Tag: fortitude

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.

Pearls of Morning: Lessons from Spider Webs and Stillness

by stephsimply, posted in Simple Observations and Musings

“Heavy dew this morning and every spider web in the garden is strong with pearls of moisture…. webs wherever I look, all shining things of silver beauty.–Edwin Way Teale

A close-up of a dewy spider web illuminated by streetlights in a quiet early morning setting, with blurred traffic lights in the background.

The Quiet Wonder Before Dawn 🌅

It was an early fall morning. Darkness still clung to the earth in a cool embrace. The traffic lights—green, yellow, red—continued their rhythm despite the empty streets. The air was cool and humid, and the hush before dawn rested easily upon the road. Pausing at the red light before continuing my jog, I noticed a spider web dappled with dew within the frame of the traffic light. I stopped in my tracks; upon closer inspection, I saw countless spider webs, draped with baubles of dew, hung from light poles and electric lines—even within the traffic lights themselves.

Hidden Beauty in Plain Sight🚦

I was awestruck by the beauty of the webs, looking ever-festive in the glow of lights—an unexpected wonder, shimmering high above me. After a few moments of appreciating the beauty, I jogged on through town, questions forming in my mind. How did they get so high? Why had I not previously noticed something so extraordinary hiding in plain sight? How many other marvels were hiding in plain sight, waiting for someone to notice?

A serene landscape featuring rolling hills partially obscured by a thick layer of fog, bathed in soft, diffused light, creating an ethereal atmosphere.

When We Slow Down Enough to See 🤓

It occurred to me that more often than not, we rush through the routine of life overlooking these mini-marvels—the ballet of fall leaves chasséing from tree to stream, then pirouetting along water currents; sinuous streamers of fog tendrils meandering around hilltops; or, the multiplicity of ice crystals frosting over a car’s windshield to name a few. These wonders are woven into daily life: from the cantaloupe-colored brilliance of sunrise over the Ohio River to the glimmer of moonlight on a frost-covered lawn; from flower-like fungi blooming on fallen logs to a puppy seeing its own reflection in a puddle. Beauty surrounds us, waiting to be noticed. Like the invisible art gallery of spider webs in traffic lights on my morning jog, most go unnoticed until the light hits just right. However, when we take time to pause and pay attention, beauty will often reveal itself in unexpected yet common places, including stoplights.

A close-up image of a brownish mushroom growing on a tree trunk, highlighting its textured surface and natural surroundings.
Flower-like fungi “blossoming” from fallen tree branch

The Power of Morning Stillness 😌

That early-morning observation turned meditation centered my day. It offered more than one lesson and served as a reminder that the morning placidity can bring a sense of calming clarity before the noise of the day. Making time for stillness in the morning, whether sipping coffee, walking a beloved pet, or sitting in prayer meditation—offers an opportunity for spaciousness at the day’s start. A moment to center, notice, reflect, and connect. Even a few minutes of stillness can offer us an opportunity to ground ourselves and recalibrate our perspective. If we grow quiet enough, we may remember that peace resides within us. That is not to say that peace is the absence of movement, purpose, or challenge, but rather it is a strong presence within us—much like the hidden strength within the delicate spider web. 

A close-up of a spider web adorned with dewdrops, creating a sparkling effect against a blurred green background.
Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

Lessons from the Web: Resilience and Renewal 🕸️

As I reflected on the morning jog through town, I realized that each web represented perseverance, fortitude, and tenacity–three key qualities essential for growth. Each morning, orb-weaving spiders consume their protein-rich webs to reclaim the silk for rebuilding. This ensures the new web they build in the evening is fresh, sticky, and strong enough to catch plenty of prey. Through practice, the spiders gain strength and instinctively how to rebuild after storms and strong wind.

The spiders’ resilience serves as a reminder that we, too, have the grit to rebuild after disappointments, setbacks, and loss. Like the spider, rebuilding our lives is often quiet work that begins only after we have nourished body, mind, and spirit. The spider’s persistence mirrors our own–delicate and determined–reconstructing through incremental, small steps. Life, like the spider’s web, is fragile, yet we too possess tensile strength—centered in faith—that guides us as we restore, renew, and rebuild. 

A close-up view of a spider web adorned with numerous droplets of dew, reflecting light and creating a sparkling effect against a dark background.

The Threads That Bind Us 🕷️

The spider’s web, where no thread stands alone, echoes the interconnectedness of our own lives. We are part of a collective. As the light shone through the webs, each dew drop caught the light, refracting color and seemingly creating miniature worlds. Just as the traffic/street lights played across the spider webs’ dew drops, our connected lives reflect multiple roles–friend, spouse/partner, worker, neighbor, parent, child, citizen . . . . Each strand of life possesses a quiet strength that is integral to the whole. In fact, the integrity of the web depends upon the strength and resiliency of every strand. Each facet of our lives holds and reveals meaning; together, the varied strands of our lives unite the whole, creating an array of meaningful relationships.

A close-up view of a beautifully intricate spider web adorned with dew droplets, creating a delicate display of nature's artistry in black and white.
Photo by don chowdhury on Pexels.com

Finding the Extraordinary in the Ordinary 🌃

In the end, the light changed, and I crossed the street as the sun rose, erasing the glimmer of those webs. Yet the image remains—reminding me to keep looking for the extraordinary in ordinary places. Perhaps it waits in the quietude before dawn, a pause at a red light, or the hush of nightfall. So many interlaced moments shimmer within the droplets of daily life, waiting for those willing to see. Those silky webs may vanish with daylight, but their pearls of wisdom still glimmer within me, reminding me that beauty often hides in ordinary light.  

May we all learn to look a little longer, to pause at life’s red lights, and to notice the silken threads of beauty connecting us in the quiet hours of dawn.

Embracing Life’s Unanswered Questions

by stephsimply, posted in Simple Observations and Musings

“Be patient toward all that is unsolved in your heart and try to love the questions themselves. Live the questions now. Perhaps you will then gradually, without noticing it, live along some distant day into the answer.“–Rilke 

A vibrant sunrise with deep orange and golden hues peeking through soft clouds, symbolizing new beginnings and hope.
Photo by Bradley Hook on Pexels.com

When the Mind Won’t Stop Asking 😕

Those words of Rilke, written over a century ago, remind me that some of the hardest seasons in life are the ones that offer no answers—only questions that echo back in silence.

A silhouette of a person walking towards a bright sunrise, symbolizing hope and introspection.
Photo by Dom Gould on Pexels.com

Running into the Questions ⁉️

I was driving home Saturday morning after my weekly long run with a podcast playing in the background. The previous week had been difficult, and I had hoped the run would provide a reprieve from my worries. I started running well before the sun rose under the cloak of a starry sky, which served to keep my mind calm. Then, the rich crimson of dawn edged up the horizon, deepening from vermilion to the fiery orange of full sunrise. As if on cue, the monkeys in my mind began chattering—an endless loop of questions followed by equally endless, devastating possibilities. 

I tried to redirect my thoughts: “If only this or that would happen, then everything will be fine,” I told myself. The problem with this if–then principle is that it’s meant for building new habits or personal change; I can’t magically apply it to others—or to the world at large. Even after my run, the mind monkeys continued their spirals. Then a line from the podcast caught my attention, “What I think Rilke’s words are stating is that if we can learn to live in peace alongside the questions, this may allow us to witness the unfolding of the answers in some indeterminate future.” 

A hand reaching out towards a shimmering body of water under a bright sky.
Photo by Lukas on Pexels.com

An Invitation, Not a Reprimand 🙂

Of course, I had not heard Rilke’s words, so I had to rewind the podcast in order to focus on the original quote. Those words felt like an invitation to hope, rather than a reprimand for my monkey mind. To be clear, it did not feel like a promise of a positive outcome, but rather hope for a greater understanding one day. Rilke’s words seemed to affirm my questioning, as long as I let the questions simply “be,” like one ingredient in the stew of life. 

Hands holding a small, gift-wrapped box with a ribbon against a soft, patterned background.
Photo by Kim Stiver on Pexels.com

The Unsolved Nature of Life 🧐

While I cannot speak for everyone, I think many of us live with unanswered questions—and I’m probably in the camp that has more than a few. Seasons of life bring different questions, but they often center around themes of health, purpose, relationships, concern for others, and the future. It is often uncomfortable–the unsolved nature of life. We desire, like the fairy tales of our childhood, resolutions to problems in which we “all lived happily ever after.” We like knowing what is next; we desire to wrap up answers neatly and hand them over like a present. But life, as we eventually learn, isn’t wrapped in tidy endings. 

A serene landscape shrouded in fog, featuring two swans gliding on a calm body of water, with bare trees reflecting in the misty surroundings.
Photo by Karol Wiu015bniewski on Pexels.com

When Answers Refuse to Come 🤨

If you have ever encountered a personal crisis, or that of a loved one, you know the “hurry up and wait” sense of time that often accompanies these scenarios–appointments scheduled off into the distant future, followed up by more appointments with no answers, only more maybes and/or more questions or concerns. It can feel like an autumn fog settling over a town in the early morning hours. You can see outlines of various possibilities, but still not know what the future holds. And yet, even in that fog, life quietly continues. 

A chalk-drawn question mark on a black background, symbolizing uncertainty and curiosity.
Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

Coexisting with Uncertainty ❓

On one hand, Rilke seems to invite us to love the questions—an improbable ask, given the weight of so many of life’s uncertainties. Perhaps, as the podcaster suggested, Rilke’s words invite us to coexist with uncertainty rather than chase quick answers. Personally, when I face challenges, my first instinct is to “fix it,” whatever “it” may be. However, most of life’s bigger questions are not, per se “fixable” in a vacuum. There are many uncontrollable variables that often fill me with an anxious energy. 

This is when I tend to lean into writing, outdoor movement (especially running and walking), as well as reading–trying to learn as much as I can about the current challenge I am facing. Additionally, I will offer help (if I can be of service) to those for whom I am concerned. In this way, I feel like I am stretching and growing in understanding and empathy, rather than grasping and silently suffering. 

A close-up image of colorful daisies, featuring hues of pink, yellow, orange, and purple, surrounded by green foliage.
Photo by Leigh Patrick on Pexels.com

The Garden Rule: Sleep, Creep, and Leap 🪻

I’ve lived long enough to know that many answers only emerge with the sweet relief of distance and time—like the three-year rule of a perennial garden: sleep, creep, and leap. A long-ago biology professor once explained that in the first year of a newly planted garden, the plants appear to grow very little because they’re focused on developing and strengthening their roots. The following year, roots are still growing and establishing, but they do have enough energy to create a bit more growth above ground. However, by the third year, the roots are fully established and the plant appears to “leap” out of the ground with growth. So it can be with the answers to life’s questions. 

Three white blocks arranged to spell 'WHY' in black uppercase letters.
Photo by Ann H on Pexels.com

Growing Through What We Don’t Yet Understand 📈

There are times in life where we cannot figure out why we keep facing one roadblock and one challenge after another. We wonder how much more we can endure, why we are faced with a certain situation, or why things are not going the way we imagined. Like that early decorative landscaped garden, we cannot see that our experiences are developing roots of strength and stability. We may not see that our ability to empathize, our talents, our emotional well-being, and even our souls, are stretching and strengthening. Later, we may look back and see that those setbacks were quietly shaping us—building the strength we’d need for what came next. 

A person kayaking on a calm body of water during sunset, with vibrant pink and orange clouds reflected in the water.
Photo by Taryn Elliott on Pexels.com

The Ineffable Beauty of Living with Questions ✨

As I further reflected on Rilke’s words and my own lived experiences, I realized that there is a certain ineffable beauty that is created by living with questions because it asks us to rely upon faith and grace, granting us a greater purpose as a seeker and a doer. 

We are not here to solve life, but to live it—with curiosity, patience, and hope.

While hope does spring eternal, it is not the same as knowing the answers. Perhaps, that’s the point–it is more about trusting that our life story is continuing to unfold in its own time and season. 

A calm, reflective body of water at sunset, with vibrant streaks of orange and blue in the sky, and a small island featuring lush greenery and palm trees.
Photo by Johannes Plenio on Pexels.com

Light, Grace, and the Unfolding of Answers 💫

Finishing the drive home, I realized that Rilke had a point. As long as I have questions, as long as I seek answers, I am not only living, but I am living with an open, loving heart and a curious, empathetic mind. I have been fortunate to live to see questions answered, but I still have more questions to go–about loved ones, about the world, and about myself. 

Like the sunrise that began my run, the light of understanding will come again—slowly, beautifully, and in its own time. Until then, I feel grateful for life’s questions. They have strengthened my life in numerous ways and provided me with unpredicted opportunities for growth. In the words of John O’Donohue, “Perhaps the beauty of not knowing is that it keeps our hearts open enough to be surprised by grace.” I welcome that grace into my life—and I hope you do too.

Running with Purpose: The Charleston Distance Classic and My Marathon Journey

by stephsimply, posted in Travels
The West Virginia State Capitol building with a golden dome, surrounded by trees and a pastel sky at dawn.
The CDC starts in front of the state capitol of WV.

A Quote to Carry Me to the Start

Dean Karnazes is often credited with saying, “Run when you can, walk if you have to, crawl if you must; just never give up.” His words echoed in my mind while I was experiencing a case of collywobbles as my family and I drove to Charleston, WV, in the predawn hours of Labor Day weekend. Only weeks earlier, I had decided I had built enough base fitness to run the Charleston Distance Classic (CDC), “America’s 15-miler.”

A joyful runner in a race, wearing a white shirt with a 13.1 badge and black shorts, excitedly posing with a water bottle while making a peace sign.
Ready to run the CDC!

Returning to the Classic After Ten Years

It had been more than ten years since I last ran it. In my previous two runs of the CDC, the weather was formidable, with the typical August heat wave bringing high heat and humidity. In fact, it wasn’t unusual to see runners collapse on the course—or cross the finish line only to collapse into the arms of medics from heat exhaustion.

Two women pose together smiling in front of a large government building with a golden dome, one wearing a race bib and athletic attire while the other is in casual sportswear.
My daughter was texting me messages of support throughout the race, so Siri could read them to me in my ear as I ran.

How Running Has Changed for Me

Life was different ten years ago. Besides being younger, I was fairly new to running and relied heavily on veteran runners for guidance. On one hand, I was fortunate to have others with whom to train; on the other hand, I didn’t yet have the aerobic base they had built over years. Plus, when I started running, I gave up strength and flexibility exercises, which I now know would have helped me. Instead, I focused on keeping up with others and hitting the weekly mileage goals.

Runner stands on a swing-shaped structure in front of the West Virginia State Capitol, smiling and wearing a race bib, under a clear sky.
Ready to swing into action.

Building Balance and Training for a MarathoN

Over the past decade, I’ve taken breaks from running—first from burnout, when I missed other forms of exercise. I rotated through strength training, yoga, walking, and cycling, always circling back to running. The pandemic brought running back to the forefront, as gyms and studios were closed.

Since then—and one major surgery later—I’ve learned to build a more balanced approach to exercise that includes a wide array of modalities, running among them. I exercise now for the joy of movement, as well as overall wellness. Still, I enjoy the discipline of a challenge. This year, in honor of another decade milestone, I’m training for the Marshall University Marathon (MUM)—the full 26.2 miles. Rather than follow a standard 16-week plan, I began in January, gradually building my aerobic base.

Runners lined up at the starting line of a race on a road, with traffic lights and spectators in the background.
The starting line for the CDC.

A Perfect Day to Race

It was this extended training that gave me confidence to run the CDC again. In addition, the weather worked in my favor. Temperatures were in the 50s when the race began in front of the state capitol. Running along the Kanawha River in the first mile, runners quickly spread out as paces varied.

View of a bridge with steel beams and a roadway, featuring a few pedestrians in the distance.
The South Side bridge, which runners crossed twice–near mile 3 and again at mile 8.

“Capital Hill PUnishment” and the Course Challenge

Before long, we crossed the South Side Bridge and began the long trudge up Corridor G, aptly nicknamed “Capital Hill Punishment”—two miles of climbing. As if that weren’t enough, the course then wound through three hilly miles of Charleston’s South Hills neighborhoods. By the time we returned to the South Side Bridge, eight brutal miles were behind us. The final seven were mostly flat, except for one last incline near the end—just when our legs were good and toasted.

My Cheer Squad: John and Maddie

The CDC is a great spectator race, and I was lucky to have my husband, John, and daughter, Maddie, there. They were tireless cheerleaders, walking all over Charleston to encourage me. At the start, Maddie urged me on with excitement. At mile eight, as I crossed the South Side Bridge for the second time, she even ran alongside me for a short stretch, offering encouragement.

Between miles 11 and 12, they found me again, cheering and taking my empty handheld water bottle—by then more of an annoyance than a help. At Laidley Field, Maddie’s voice carried as soon as I stepped onto the track, her shouts of encouragement giving me the final push.

A person jogging on a city street with a garbage truck parked nearby and a multi-story building in the background.
This was mile 8. Afterwards, there was mostly flat course, EXCEPT for a last incline during the very last mile before the finish line. UGH!

Lessons from the Endless Last Mile

Honestly, that last mile seemed endless, and I learned a powerful lesson: even the final mile is still a mile long. My mental discipline slipped, and the fortitude that carried me there begged for rest. I grew whiny and irritable, which only amplified the aches and pains I had managed to ignore until then. It reminded me of my reaction in the last mile of a half marathon I ran this past spring in Asheville, NC.

Scenic view of a riverbank with lush greenery, walking path, and a bridge in the distance under a clear blue sky.
The beautiful Kanawha River that flows through Charleston, WV.

Strengthening My Fortitude

That last mile taught me what I must carry into the last weeks of marathon training: when the long runs get longest, I need to focus on strengthening my fortitude—especially at the very end. This, for me, is the hardest part. I try to follow the advice of Olympian Jeff Galloway (who is also credited with establishing the “Run-Walk-Run” method) to smile at each mile marker—since smiling releases those feel-good chemicals and helps relax the body. He also suggests repeating a mantra or power word. Perhaps I need to lean into this more.

Remembering My “Why”

I also need to remind myself of my “why” when the going gets tough. With the MUM, I hope to raise awareness for Branches Domestic Violence Shelter. Branches provides emergency shelter, legal assistance, counseling, case management, and even meal delivery for domestic violence survivors. Their work saves lives. If my miles can help encourage even a few people to support them, that will mean as much to me as crossing the finish line.

A smiling woman holding a medal, wearing athletic clothing, stands next to a post in a race finish area, with a crowd and tents in the background.
Feeling so grateful for my family, love, and support at the end of the CDC.

Running Differently, Running with Gratitude

Ten years later, I run differently. I take walk breaks when needed, and I’m grateful to still have my health. Running gives me energy, provides structure, and fills me with joy and purpose. Not every run is great, but each mile contributes to my community by keeping me connected to local races and to my own mental, physical, and spiritual well-being. Running also pulls me outdoors, connecting me with the Creator and with the delight of each season.

Never Give Up—In Running or in Life

Running the CDC reinforced the lesson of never giving up. I may be entering a new decade, but that doesn’t mean I have to give up striving for new goals—even if it means crawling to achieve them. Perhaps I’ll see you at the MUM. If not, I hope you’ll create your own journey. Either way, I invite you to celebrate with me—by supporting Branches or by committing to your own goal. Adjust as you must, but never give up. Step by step, with fortitude, tenacity, and a few deep breaths, you can do it.

A running event starting line with an inflatable arch labeled 'Appalachian Timing Group' on a red track, set against a clear blue sky and distant hills.
Never give up! You can cross whatever finish line in life you need to cross!