Today, I’m taking a brief detour from my story.
Two years ago, I ran my first—and, so far, only—marathon.
Leading up to it, I had been running and exercising consistently, tackling distances up to a half marathon in all kinds of weather. I had always thought about running a full marathon and wanted to cross it off the list before turning 50, but it wasn’t a hard-and-fast goal.
Then, in December 2023, I learned about a local marathon with a generally flat course. Between the convenient location and the forgiving terrain, I figured, why not? Part of it was calling a friend’s bluff, but deep down, I genuinely wanted to prove to myself that I could do it. So, I signed up.
The Grinding Phase
Training kicked off in January 2024 for a race at the beginning of May. I already had a decent base, but this required essentially doubling my mileage.
I ran through absolutely everything—cold, snow, rain, wind, and sun—at whatever times of day I could squeeze it in. There were brutal Saturday long runs, a bout of COVID, and the usual aches and pains. But I pushed through, building up to distances I’d never touched before. The training culminated in a solid 20-mile run, followed by a much-needed taper period.
May arrived, and with it, race day. It was a cool, drizzly morning. When the gun went off, things moved along smoothly, and I hit the turnaround feeling good. That’s when the rain picked up—not a downpour, but enough to get thoroughly soaked. I kept grinding, walking when necessary, and staying on top of my hydration and nutrition.
Finally, I hit the last mile and saw the finish line. A whole crowd of people was there cheering me on, and I sprinted that final stretch with every ounce of strength I had left. I still joke that if anyone had gotten in my way, they would’ve ended up as a smear on the course. I was targeting a 5-hour finish and crossed the line around 5 hours and 15 minutes. Needless to say, I was incredibly proud of the accomplishment.
The Crash and the Slide
After the race, my body and mind needed a break. I fully intended to jump back into a routine, but it just didn’t happen. My running didn’t completely stop, but the momentum slowed to a crawl. I managed to finish a few smaller races, but I began pulling back from all my usual activities.
I didn’t realize it at the time, but I had completely burned out, and that exhaustion carried forward. My last race was in October 2024, and even then, it was a massive struggle just to finish.
The downward slide continued. I’d train on and off, but I never really pushed myself. I’d sign up for races only to skip them. As 2025 ground on, I was dealt a heavy hand: a nagging injury, two significant personal losses, and a steep decline in my mental health.
That rough stretch rolled right into 2026. After a miserable winter, my depression deepened, and I was well on my way to hitting my highest weight since 2017.
Turning the Corner
As spring finally arrived, I knew something had to change. I started working with a new therapist, sought out bereavement support, and worked with my physician to adjust my medications. Slowly, the fog started to lift. I began working out more and lacing up my running shoes a bit more frequently. I signed up for three races this season—and true to form lately, I ended up skipping the first two.
Today was that third race.
For the first time in almost two years, I found myself standing on the starting line of a 5K. I felt a wave of anxiety, and my only real goal was just to finish under 40 minutes.
It turned out to be a beautiful morning—you really couldn’t ask for a better day to run in mid-July. When the race started, I found my rhythm, running most of it and walking only when I needed to.
I am incredibly happy to report that I completed the entire race with a time of 37 minutes and 35 seconds. While it is a cry from my personal best, I am genuinely proud of what I accomplished today. I am finally looking forward to getting back into racing, and I’ve already set my sights on a new goal for next year: coming back for the 15K.
