Marathon. The dream.

The first time I attempted to train for a marathon I hadn’t done my research. In fact, I hadn’t even done a 5K. All I had done was print out a training schedule I’d found online and run with it—literally! Several weeks in I came to the sad realization sheer will and determination would only get me so far—14 miles to be exact. That little discovery landed me in a doctor’s office, staring at x-rays and blinking back tears while I had the phenomenon of “overtraining injuries” explained to me. I was also told no marathon would be in my near future and unless I took some time off from running I’d risk causing permanent damage.

I was heartbroken. But I also had high hopes for a speedy recovery. So much so, I signed up for a “fun run” a couple months later. Sadly, when the day arrived it was all I could do to slowly limp my way along the course. Every step hurt—my knees, my ankles, my pride; it didn’t take long for my frustration and disappointment to turn to tears. By the time I crossed the finish line I’d shed my dream of ever running a marathon. If barely being able to walk was where I’d have to start from, I figured I might as well give up.

And so I did.

Almost a year went by.

A year in which, every time I saw someone running, I suffered intense envy…plus an urge to throw something at them.

Also during that time, my body healed.

Then one day I dug out my running shoes and went for a run—just for fun. I couldn’t go far and didn’t go fast but it sure felt good—good enough to do it again…and again. The next few months were a lot of work and my progress was painfully slow. But I kept at it and eventually worked up from running 30 seconds at a time to a full 3 miles.

By this time another year had passed. And somewhere along the way my dream of running a marathon resurfaced. I didn’t know if I could make it happen, but I found myself willing to try.

I started with a series of short races. Then a 10-miler. Then my first half-marathon. Then another. And then I picked a race date 6 months down the road and started training for a full. I did my research this time: everything from hydration and nutrition to proper form and black toenails. I strength trained and crossed trained. I did long runs and climbed hills. I braved the weather, drank tons of water and got plenty of sleep. I even bought a running cookbook and tried over 70 new, super-healthy recipes (no applause from my kids on this one!).

And then, there I was…crossing the finish line of my very first marathon! I’ll never forget what an intense sense of accomplishment that moment held for me…and not just because of the 26.2 miles I’d just covered, but because of all I’d learned along the three year journey it took me to get there. Like how, sometimes, the best gift we can give ourselves is time to heal. How sometimes starting over is the only place to start. That just because something’s harder than we ever imagined it would be doesn’t mean we can’t make it happen. How our mistakes are often our best teachers. And how even though giving up—on our dreams, on ourselves, on each other—is always an option, the true reward comes when we dare to keep trying.