In just four days, I’ll run my first marathon.
I’ve said that sentence out loud more times than I can count lately, and each time it hits a little different. A little deeper. Because I’m not just running 26.2 miles—I’m stepping into a version of me I didn’t know existed.
The Miles That Broke Me (and Built Me)
One of the biggest mental blocks in this journey? The mileage.
Anything over 15 miles used to terrify me.
The first time I hit 15, it completely broke me—mentally and physically. I was sore for three weeks. I couldn’t bring myself to run more than 4 miles for a while. My body hurt, but honestly? My mind hurt more.
I doubted everything. My ability. My grit. My reason for even doing this.
But little by little, I came back. 4 miles turned into 6. Then 8. Then 12. I rebuilt mile by mile—not because I felt strong, but because I decided to keep showing up.
One Step at a Time (and a Little Song)
Long runs still test me. There are miles that feel impossible. But when things get hard, I tell myself:
One mile at a time. One step at a time.
Sometimes I even sing a little song in my head:
“Bouncy, bouncy, bouncy, bouncy…”
It sounds ridiculous—but it works. It keeps me grounded. It makes the next step feel lighter. And it reminds me I’m still moving forward.
From Shiny Motivation to Deep Discipline
At the start of training, it felt new. Exciting. Motivating.
That “new goal” energy was strong.
But now, four days from the start line, it’s different. It’s deeper.
This isn’t about hype anymore. It’s about discipline.
It’s about showing up when I don’t want to.
It’s about pushing through when the training isn’t fun anymore.
It’s about becoming the woman who doesn’t quit—no matter what.
And every time I want to stop, I remind myself:
“I didn’t come this far just to come this far.”
What This Race Means to Me
This race isn’t just about distance—it’s about growth.
It’s about who I’ve become over the last few months.
The version of me that’s committed to my sobriety.
The mom who found a way to turn running into a way of reconnecting—with herself and her priorities.
I’ve made running a part of my life, not just a goal.
And in doing that, I’ve discovered parts of myself I didn’t know were there.
Marathon training has already changed me.
Finishing the race will just be the moment I get to celebrate it.
To the One Who Thinks They Couldn’t
If you’ve ever said, “I could never run a marathon,” I hear you.
Start with a 5K. Then a 10K. Then a half.
And somewhere along the way, you’ll realize:
You were capable all along.
We hold ourselves back more than anyone else ever could.
And the only difference between those who do and those who don’t—is that one day, someone decided to start.
Running doesn’t belong to a certain type of person.
It’s for anyone willing to lace up, show up, and keep going.
What mental block have you overcome lately?
Drop a comment—I’d love to cheer you on, too.
