A Letter to Every Runner That Has Second-Guessed Their Ability

Today I experienced what I am going to call “the marathon crazies”. Let me start off by saying this: there is no doubt in my mind how much I love running, how much the discovery of this love has changed my life, and how lost I feel when/if I can’t run. I think it’s pretty obvious at this point what this sport means to me, and how it makes me feel stronger and more capable than anything I’ve ever done. My marathon changed me. And not just in a small way, in a this-will-be-the-story-I-tell-my-grandkids way. I will never forget that moment, and I cannot wait to experience it again in Boston – my dream. But the truth is, marathon training is brutal. And ugly. You literally put your body through so much rigor; adding more miles each and every week… and there are times where it feels like it just might break you.

Today was that day for me.

It’s Sunday. I’m here, looking out on my last week before taper; the week with the highest mileage this round of training. When I sat down and looked at my schedule for the week, I lost it. My body is tired, and I know that. I’ve been completely aware of it for about 2 weeks now. Twelve weeks in, with only four to go… I think it’s pretty normal to be tired. And I don’t mean “didn’t sleep enough last night” tired. I mean “to the core” tired. Hell, I’ve been on 68 runs and run 413 miles this round. But today, I came to two realizations at the exact same moment: 1. That this is the last week of the real, true, dig-down-deep HARD work, and 2. It will also be the hardest week to date.

It is easy to get swept up in the process. When people around you hear that you’re training for something, you are constantly being asked, “how is training going?” and “do you feel ready?” with the occasional “you rock!” or “I could never do that”. This is what has helped me get through it. The reminder that I am out there everyday, getting my body ready for those miles, when I could just be on the couch. There have been some days when I’ve been asked those questions, though, and it has been all I can do to put on my big girl face, pull myself together, and respond “it’s going great!”. To be completely honest, this training season has put me through the ringer. I started off with a fall – a minor one that only left me with some painful road rash – on my very first “long run” of training. Then there was the hamstring issue that I feared would be my end game. After getting over that, I got a blister on a long run that I tried to tough out (because, okay, it’s a blister, really?), but I only ended up making it worse and got to the point where I couldn’t even wear a shoe. That knocked me out for a few days. Then, my bad fall(s) happened – which left me with a face looking like I was in a bar fight, whiplash, and some really banged up knees. That last one really rocked me… I contemplated throwing in the towel completely at that point. I lost all confidence in my ability as a runner and was terrified to even lace up my shoes. But the next day, scared as I was, I got back out there. A few days later I went back to the same exact path where I fell and threw up some middle fingers to the two spots where I fell as I ran by, vertically this time.

But rather than explaining all of that each time I am asked – I always respond with “it’s going great!”.

Up until this point, I’ve done pretty well holding it all together. I’ve absolutely had challenging moments along the way (mentioned above), but today, all those moments came flooding out.  I had a power (aka sprints) workout at Orangetheory this morning. I got through it, but I struggled so hard. I was so tired. I got the appropriate amount of sleep last night, had breakfast, and was well-hydrated. I ran 19 miles last weekend just fine. Why did this workout feel impossible? Aaaaand cue the paranoia.  Have I trained enough? Have I run enough miles? I’m tired already; how am I physically going to make it through this week? Not to mention the joys of social media – and the awful, awful habit we’ve inherited of comparing ourselves to others. I will admit, I am 100% guilty of seeing someone post about a long run and wondering if I should have done the same… even if I did it yesterday, or last week, etc. Add up all the bumps in the road, the pressure I create for myself by comparing my journey to others, and a bad workout… recipe for disaster. I think I just reached that breaking point, the one that is bound to happen at some point during a 16-week training period.

After about ten minutes worth of a meltdown, I felt better. I have run farther and harder this round of training than I did during round one. I am seasoned, and I have had a whole year of new challenges, new advice, and new motivation. A friend of mine posted something yesterday that caught my eye, “hold the vision, trust the process”. In the middle of my meltdown, this came back to me. I am twelve weeks in. This is it. I am SO close to what I’ve been working towards for two years. The vision of the yellow and blue finish line and the thought of “Right on Hereford, Left on Boylston” – that is what all of this has been for. I am prepared. It doesn’t matter if anyone else has run more than me, or had a better run than me… they are not me. This is my journey, and my journey only. I have made it this far, I have worked this hard, and I will be ready. I am trusting the process.

Will this day and this moment of weakness break me? No. Will this week break me? No. Will I throw in the towel? The answer is absolutely not. It was just that – a moment of weakness. A justified one, in my opinion, after how hard I’ve worked. If anything, it has inspired me to keep pushing through and crush the last few weeks of training. So, if there are any runners out there having “the marathon crazies”, or you find yourself wondering if you’ve done enough… please remember this. (Let it out if you have to… but breathe. Collect yourself.) You’ve put in the work. This is YOUR journey. Hold the vision, trust the process. You’re a rockstar and an inspiration.

See you on Boylston.