Running - A metaphor

1 hour 25 minutes. This was the goal. These might seem like arbitrary times to you, but to me they represented months of 5am wake-up calls, sweat-soaked shoes, and hours of audiobooks to drown out the fatigue and desire to quit. One hour and twenty-five minutes was the difference between a dream realized and a long mental battle of questioning whether months of effort had been worth it. It was the dividing line between accomplishment and the exhausting work of reframing setbacks into growth. It was the difference between sitting at home on a quiet November weekend in Texas and the opportunity to participate in the largest marathon ever run, The 2024 New York Marathon.

The starting line was thick with anticipation. The cool morning air with a biting wind hummed with nervous energy as runners stretched, checked their watches, and set their attention on their personal goals. There is something calming about start lines—not because the moment lacks significance, but because the work has already been done. Now, it’s simply about showing up, trusting the preparation, and letting instincts take over. This also wasn’t just about my effort alone. It was a shared experience with a friend—weekly calls discussing the miles we endured, holding each other accountable, and offering the small but essential encouragements that made the tough runs easier to navigate. The race was ours to run together—not in the sense that we stayed side by side the entire time, but in the way our shared preparation and support became a source of motivation, pushing us forward even when the miles felt relentless.

Running has never been about sheer willpower for me. It’s a rhythm, a system—an ongoing process of training, adjusting, and trusting that the work I put in will carry me on race day. Much like life and mental health, progress isn’t linear. Some days, everything is working; other days, my legs feel double their weight. The key is in showing up, in having the systems and supports to remind you there is meaning in the struggle.

At mile three, it was clear the goal we set was aggressive. I was on pace, but the assurance I typically feel early on in a race was not going to be today's story - I was running on the edge of my limits and I was going to need every tool and trick available to me to hold on for the remaining 10 miles. This is where mental resilience—the ability to stay present and engaged even when things get difficult—mattered more than physical preparation. My friend and I exchanged only a few words throughout the race, but our presence with one another spoke louder than any words. We had been here before - in training, in other races, in the difficult moments of our lives. Instead of battling against the discomfort, we leaned into the familiarity of the work, reminding ourselves that we didn’t have to do it alone and that our bodies have the capacity to endure hard things.

With one mile to go, the upper NYC bay in view and less than 7 minutes between my current spot and the finish line...it was now about holding on. With my legs on fire there were no grand declarations, no dramatic push—just the quiet understanding that we had done what we came to do and we were now in good position to reach our goal. The finish line came into view, and with one last surge, we crossed —1:24:00. Elated and relieved, a full minute under our goal! The number on the clock mattered, but what stood out more was the journey to get there, the foundation of belief it was built on, and the shared life that made the whole experience meaningful.

Life isn’t just about setting goals and chasing them down; it’s about understanding what sustains us in the pursuit—how preparation, support, and perseverance shape the journey just as much as the finish line. It’s about the systems we create, the people who support us, and the rhythms that keep us moving even when motivation fades. Running has taught me that progress isn’t about force or willpower alone—it’s about consistency, adaptation, and the relationships that sustain us through the hardest miles. This race wasn’t just about qualifying for the New York City Marathon. It was about the quiet work of taking risks, preparation, the mental shifts that happened along the way, and the realization that success is rarely a solo effort. Sometimes, the greatest victories come not from pushing harder, but from learning to move forward.