Tag: finish line

Running Toward Hope: A Marathon of Movement and Love

by stephsimply, posted in Simple Observations and Musings

“Every run is a work of art, a drawing on each day’s canvas. Some runs are shouts and some runs are whispers. Some runs are eulogies and others celebrations.”—Dagny Scott Barrios

A group of three people, including a man in a green hoodie, a woman in a bright orange top with a running bib, and a woman in a gray sweater, gather smiling at a running event in an outdoor setting with other runners in the background.
Just before the start of the marathon I took time to get a hug from my two biggest supporters throughout the training process: my husband, L, and my daughter, R.

A Morning of Reflection and Gratitude 🌅

A light mist fell as an overcast gray morning began to chase away the night. I stood quietly in a throng of animated runners, taking deep breaths as reflection and gratitude washed over me. Months of preparation had led to this moment, and I felt thankful not only for my health but for the loving support that carried me here—to this celebration of movement, resilience, and connection.

Running as an Act of Hope ✨

It had been ten years since I last pinned on a bib for this distance, and my body hummed with anticipation, hope, and belief—the belief that movement is for everyone at every age, and that it is, in itself, an act of hope. I was about to embark on an emotional 26.2-mile trail of faith that became more about the people who supported me than the miles themselves.

Discovering Joy in Gentle Movement 😄

I came to running later in life, and it wasn’t easy at first. Only when I learned to approach running gently—to let go of preconceived (and societal) notions of what running “should” be—did I discover paths full of freedom, clarity, and renewal. Movement, whether running, walking, dancing, or stretching, benefits body, mind, and spirit. It brings a sense of structure to an often chaotic world and offers a feeling of accomplishment—if nothing else goes right in a day, at least I moved my body. Movement brings us alive to ourselves, our spirit, and, in turn, to the world around us.

The joy, I’ve learned, is in the doing—not in attaching to a pace, distance, or goal. Those things can be part of the experience, but they aren’t required.

A man and a woman embrace warmly in a crowded setting, both smiling in a moment of connection before a marathon.
Maddie’s, my daughter, boyfriend, Connor, flew all the way from Austin, TX to be part of this event. Together, with Maddie, he helped plan the marathon surprise of a lifetime!

Redefining What It Means to Age 🧓

As I neared my 60th birthday, I began to notice messaging that framed this decade as one of limitation. I decided instead to flip the narrative and celebrate the 60s as a decade of possibilities. Why not run into this new decade the way I ran into my 50s—with eyes and arms wide to adventure?

Training with Gentleness and Grace 😌

Since I was already running regularly, I committed to training for a marathon, but this time with gentleness. Instead of a traditional four-month build-up, I created a ten-month plan that encouraged patience, routine, and presence. Twice-weekly strength training and yoga joined the schedule, as did listening to my body and using the run-walk-run method as needed. I also focused on proper hydration and fueling before, during, and after runs. Most of all, my husband and daughter supported me from the very beginning—their quiet, everyday encouragement becoming a steady foundation of strength.

A woman running on a street wearing a bright pink long-sleeve top, black leggings, and a cap, displaying a race number on her waist.
Gentleness was a large part of the 10-month training block that led to this moment of hope and celebration.

Adapting Through Life’s Curveballs 😰

Training for a marathon brings rhythm and structure to daily life—the early morning runs, the long weekend miles that lengthen gradually, and the sweet evening stretches after dinner. But life, of course, has its curveballs: weather shifts, fatigue, scheduling conflicts, unexpected events, and bouts of self-doubt. With age, though, I’ve learned to adapt rather than resist these realities, co-creating a practical, flexible approach to progress.

As my weekend long runs grew longer, my husband and daughter often appeared—driving by, stopping to cheer, or jogging beside me for a short distance. These small bursts of love in action fueled my heart and kept me going. Training, I realized, was less about mileage and more about cultivating fortitude, flexibility, and gratitude—along with a dash of fierceness—all essential life skills carried from the road.

A group of enthusiastic spectators cheer on runners during a marathon, surrounded by autumn foliage and a partly cloudy sky.
Maddie, and my husband, John, often showed up during the last few miles of my Saturday long runs to cheer me on as Maddie is seen here doing during the actual event itself.

Race Day: A Celebration of Love 💖

As the marathon began, the city of Huntington vibrant in energy, rebelling against the lackluster sky. Rhythmic footfalls and nervous chatter surrounded me as runners jostled for position. Warmly dressed spectators cheered, waving handmade signs against a backdrop of burnished orange, crimson, and yellow autumn trees. Little did I know that my daughter had turned this event into an outpouring of love.

Surprises Along the Course 🫢

At the start, my husband, daughter, and her boyfriend—who had flown in from Texas to surprise me—stood cheering. But that was only the beginning. Every few miles along the route, my daughter had arranged for friends, family, and coworkers to appear, waving signs and calling my name. I didn’t realize the scope of her plan until near the end, but each familiar face filled me with renewed energy, gratitude, and joy.

A female runner in a bright pink shirt crosses a street marked by traffic cones, while a supporter holds a sign nearby in a lively downtown setting.
The look of complete surprise when I see my sister, Traci, and her husband, David, around the 19-20 mile mark of the marathon. I had no idea they would show up along the route!
Two women running together on a city street during a marathon, with one holding a sign. They are surrounded by a lively atmosphere and shops in the background.
Of course, I had to veer off the path to give her hug, which helped uplift me over the next few miles.

Crossing the Finish Line 🏁

As I turned toward the final quarter mile, a group of race volunteers began singing “Happy Birthday” while my daughter’s boyfriend joined for a short burst of encouragement. My husband stood outside the stadium offering final words of encouragement, and my daughter met me at the bottom of the stadium ramp to run beside me as I approached the finish line. I wasn’t just completing a marathon; I was receiving the best birthday gift—a living reminder of love: a convergence of community, family, and friendship. It was a story of hope, purpose, generosity, and perseverance—the joy and power of a shared journey.

Two volunteers wearing bright reflective vests stand by a crosswalk in a park-like setting with blooming flowers and trees. In the background, a pathway leads towards a building under a cloudy sky.
This was the point, less than a quarter mile to go, when a group of race volunteers, led by an unknown female spectator and Conner, joined in to sing “Happy Birthday” to me as approached and rounded the corner to the finish line.

The Marathon as a Metaphor for Life 🪞

This journey mirrors life: we move forward by faith and grace, one step at a time, through both joy and challenge, supported by others who believe in us. That’s the power of movement—it connects us to our bodies, to others, and to something larger than ourselves. Choosing to move, to train, to keep going even when the path feels long, is an affirmation that with faith, growth and renewal are always possible—at any age.

Movement as a Lifelong Invitation 💌

Movement can take many forms: walking, stretching, dancing, or choosing to train for something big. The point is to move with intention and persistence, to embrace your own journey, and not attach to societal and social media messaging. Just move—and let movement open the door to new possibilities, both inner and outer.

A runner crosses the finish line at a sports stadium, with spectators in the stands and a clear blue sky overhead.
Maddie runs alongside me for the last few feet, just as she did in 2015, to encourage across the finish line. Once I was close to the finish line, she dropped back behind the rope to let me finish alone. However, I really wasn’t alone. I was surrounded by a giant embrace of joy, hope, and love of family, friends, and community!!

The Joy Continues ☺️

The rhythm of footsteps, the smiles for miles, and the faces of loved ones along the route are forever imprinted in my heart—all reminders that every step matters. The marathon finish line was crossed, but the renewed sense of possibility and joy continues. Whatever your pace or path, keep moving forward—heart, mind, and spirit. You never know what acts of hope and love may be waiting for you along life’s path.

A group of runners participating in a marathon on an overcast morning, with diverse individuals wearing colorful athletic clothing and cheerful expressions.
The joy, and the journey of love and hope, continues . . .

A Grateful Heart 💜

P.S. Thank you to the countless and nameless MUM volunteers who invested hours of time to ensure the safety and success of runners, walkers, and those beloved spectators. And, an extra special heartfelt thank you to my friends and family who celebrated this milestone with me. And to Maddie and John, I love you to the moon and back.

A group of three smiling individuals taking a selfie on a subway or train, with a map visible in the background.
I wonder where the next path of adventure will lead?
An assortment of hydration and energy products for runners, including electrolyte tablets and energy gels, arranged on a wooden surface.
Shout out to Precision Fuel and Hydration for the support during this training journey! I learned a lot from your team.

Embracing Limitations: Lessons from the Asheville Half Marathon

by stephsimply, posted in Travels

“God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I can not change, the courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference.”–Prayer for serenity

The Blue Ridge Mountains outside of Asheville, NC.

“the mountains are Calling . . .” ⛰️

I had been training for months, despite the challenges winter threw at me. Cold? I can handle it. Snow? I can run in it. Gusty wind? I can run that too. However, after my husband, John, and I crested hill after hill making our way into Asheville, North Carolina, I knew the town’s half marathon would offer a whole new level of challenge. 

To be clear, participating in the Asheville Half Marathon was an insignificant hurdle compared to what the people in Asheville, and all of the other residents of the surrounding areas/towns along US 23, have been facing as they deal with the aftermath of Hurricane Helene.

Driving along US 23, John, and I were able to witness that six months after Hurricane Helene angrily chewed through a large portion of the western Appalachian region, the recovery is still ongoing. However, the willful, and not-to-be-deterred, spirit of the residents was unmistakable. 

Rooftop view from Asheville of surrounding Blue Ridge Mountains.

A Tale of Two Sisters 👧 👧

This past fall, not long after Helene hit, the high school in which John and I work, welcomed two sisters into the student body.  They were from the Asheville area and were staying with relatives while their parents and older brother dealt with the devastation and destruction back home.

The girls were engaging and well-poised, especially considering their circumstances. Over the course of a couple months, I got to know them–not well due to the short duration of their stay–but well enough to swap personal stories from time to time. 

When they learned that like their dad, I often trained for half marathons, they immediately invited me to run the Asheville Half Marathon in March. They explained that by the time spring rolled around, the community would not be fully recovered, but the local economy would need the boost that runners and the accompanying spectators could bring. 

“You should definitely come, Ms. Hill.  You’d like the people of Asheville, especially the running community.” 

Once Asheville High School opened, the girls returned back home. And though I haven’t heard from them since, they planted a seed that grew into a shoot of curiosity. 

Runners were asked to sign the board stating why they ran.

Sign me up! 📝

Around Christmas, I checked the Asheville Marathon/Half Marathon website, and the powerful and persuasive prose describing the event increased my interest. The website’s editors artfully articulated the community’s belief in the significance of the annual running event. They stated the course’s route would not be “pristine or predictable.” Therefore, the event was for those who “thrive on resilience.” However, the line that sealed the deal stated, “If you’re ready to run in the face of adversity and be a part of Asheville’s comeback story, we can’t wait to see you on the start line!” 

John and I at gathering with other runners and spectators at the starting line before the race began.

Ready, set, Go! 🏁

Soon enough, on a chilly, dark March morning, I waited at the starting line with approximately 2,200 runners from 40 states and three countries who also heeded the call to help support Asheville, according to The Weather Channel. The positive vibe was palpable as runners mingled with spectators. Nonetheless, I was feeling a bit nervous as I recalled the half-marathon route’s elevation gain was nearly 800 feet, and its elevation loss was over 900.  

And, it was hilly.  From start to finish, there were no flat stretches. In the beginning, I read spectator signs claiming, “It’s all downhill from here,” with hope. It didn’t take long to realize those signs lied!  Even the finish line required running uphill, but I am “running” ahead of myself.

Running is a metaphor for living life, and it is always whispering (or sometimes shouting, as this event seemed to do) lessons to those of us willing to listen. Accepting limitations–was the lesson those relentless hills of Asheville taught me. Which makes sense since this is what many of the residents of Asheville and the western Appalachian area had to do during, and now after, the storm–accept and deal with limitations. 

Whether literal or metaphorical, storms of life cause us to suffer. As I repeatedly tried to power through those uphills during the first half, my ego kept telling me to push harder, creating suffering. However, as a late-in-life runner lacking inherent running talent, the reality is that race events for me are more about creating motivation and structure to consistently get me out the door to exercise. At the end of the day, I am not about to set any records; I am not even close to winning my age group, so why was I pushing so hard?

And so, it was on a hill, not long after milepost seven, that I decided to accept my limitations. Sure, I had trained on hills at home, but nothing like this. Why not power walk up the rest of the hills, and then run the downhill portions?

Asheville taught me to accept my limitations.

There is a newfound freedom in accepting one’s limitations 🏃‍♀️

Once I accepted my limitations, there was freedom. I had a new way of being present with the race challenges as they unfolded. This acceptance gave me permission to slow down, take in the sites, and feel a sense of gratitude for my health and ability to make this trip. 

Additionally, by walking the hills, I had more energy to offer encouragement to fellow runners I encountered who also seemed to be struggling. (After all, I run at the back of the pack, where we could all benefit from a little encouragement.) Furthermore, I was also able to offer thanks to the spectators who manned drink stations, rang cowbells, or waved motivating signs with clever phrases such as, “Touch here for power,” “You’re stronger than any storm,” or “You’re running better than our government.” 

By the time I crossed the uphill finish line, tears filled my eyes as I raised my hands in the air.  No, I wasn’t celebrating a personal record, but instead, I was able to celebrate that I crossed the finish line with grace, humility, and a lesson learned. 

The AVL finish line of through which I would later cross humbled, and grateful, by another lesson running once more provided me.

The lesson? Transforming suffering can only occur if we are willing to be with it and accept the limitations it creates. Accepting limitations can be transformatively freeing, allowing us to lean into newly created possibilities we may not have been able to previously envision. I am not saying that accepting our limitations is not easy. However, once we let go of ego and embrace humility, it is possible to embrace the freedom that comes with focusing on what we CAN do.

Thank you , Asheville! I walk away from the finish line with grateful heart and a lesson learned. Furthermore, thank you, Hannah and Allison! I wish your family the best! 💜