Running Free

How Jeff Galloway’s run-walk-run method helped me become a runner—and find joy along the way

“I hear the music. I feel the beat. And for a moment… I am free…”—Florence + the Machine

🌿Finding My Rhythm on Tobacco Road

I was running along the rolling, pine-scented path of the American Tobacco Trail (ATT), a rail-to-trail near Cary, NC, as part of the Tobacco Road Marathon/Half-Marathon. The air was brisk, and the sun had just begun its ascent. Shards of brilliant light cut through towering pine trees. The race was promoted as “fast and flat” with its gentle ascents and descents. At the start, thousands of runners packed tightly together, jostling and elbowing forward. By mid-race, I settled into a steady rhythmic cadence, independent of those around me. As “Free” by Florence + the Machine began to play in my ear, I felt “free,” lit from within. In that moment, I realized that feeling was not accidental—it was learned–taught and modeled by one of the best.

Map of the Tobacco Road Half Marathon course, showing the route with mile markers, water stops, spectator parking, and medical aid stations. Includes an elevation profile at the bottom.
Screenshot of the Tobacco Road Marathon.

Who Gets to Call Themselves a Runner?

While I would never describe myself as an athlete, I have tried to be active and exercise throughout my adult years. Aerobics, step-aerobics, biking, walking, hiking, weight lifting, and yoga have all been activities I have returned to over the decades. However, running seemed intimidating. I equated it with those who were “naturally athletic,” fast, long-legged, and thin. I believed running was for those who could run seemingly effortlessly, without walking, for 30–60 minutes or longer. It was a barrier I tried to overcome, but felt like I repeatedly “failed.” Then, I read about something called the run-walk-run method, originated by Jeff Galloway, and all of the intimidation and barriers appeared, from the outside, surmountable. 

💡A Different Way to Begin

Galloway, a former Olympic runner (1972) was the founder of the first specialty running shoe store. Through his books, classes, workshops, training camps, and destination races across the U.S. and around the world, he expounded and demonstrated the benefits of his run-walk-run method, or “jeffing,” as it is sometimes fondly called. His empowering, emphatic message that not only are walk breaks permitted, but encouraged, redefined what it meant to be a runner. If you ran ten seconds, walked five minutes, and then ran 10 more seconds, whether you repeated it once or several times, you were a runner. 

A large crowd of participants and spectators gathered at an outdoor event, with banners and a timer displaying '2:26:06' in the background, near a finish line.
Whether walking, running, or run/walk/running, everyone still has to complete the same distance and cross the same finish line!

🔄Learning to Run—One Interval at a Time

His gentle message—consistency over intensity—resonated with me—and I am certain I am not the only one. His positive and encouraging tone convinced me to start with a run-walk-run interval plan that I could maintain for 30 minutes, and repeat three days per week. Each successive week, I ran a bit longer and walked a bit less. From there, I built gradually. Galloway, for me, and I daresay for hundreds of thousands more around the world, didn’t just change how I approached running—he freed me to change how I think about running. 

🚶‍♀️➡️🏃‍♀️From Walking to Running

Like countless others who encountered Galloway’s message, I gradually shifted from mostly walking, to equal parts walking and running, to the present day—mostly running. (And I still give myself permission to take walk breaks as needed.) 

Letting Go of What I Thought Running “Should” Be

This incremental shift, spread out over months, increased my self-assurance (thinking of myself more often as a runner) and made running feel sustainable. Galloway’s method allowed me to discover enjoyment, replacing what had once felt like pressure about how I believed running “should” be. I suspect I am not the only one who found the door to running opened, not by pushing harder, but by being allowed to ease in. 

🎧✨The Moment It All Came Together

As I continued to pace along the Tobacco Road Half-Marathon route, listening to the music, I could feel my feet matching the cadence of the beat. My heartbeat was steady and my breathing deepened, but I was calm. It was as if in that moment, body, mind, and spirit aligned, and I felt free. I had a sense that “I can do hard things.” This is what Galloway’s message ultimately conveys—however we define “hard.”

🕊️A Legacy That Lives On

Galloway and his wife, Barb, practiced what he preached for over 50 years until his untimely passing in February of this year at the age of 80. His legacy, however, will live on through everyday runners. Those runners who, like me, now have access to a sport once considered undoable. He provided a path to longevity in the sport, and the chance to taste the freedom that comes from enjoying the experience rather than attaching to a certain performance.  

A smiling woman with glasses and a cap gives a thumbs-up gesture in a crowd of runners at night, with other participants blurred in motion around her.
If you are moving forward, you belong!

🌱The Quiet Confidence of Belonging

As I witnessed countless participants take walk breaks in the Tobacco Road Marathon/Half-Marathon, I sensed that Galloway’s legacy isn’t just in the finish lines. Rather, it’s in the unassuming confidence of runners who finally believe they belong. It is a quiet kind of wonder.

👟An Invitation to Begin

To anyone reading this who thinks they are “not a runner,” are beginners, or feel intimidated by pace, age, or comparison, I invite you to try it. Start with a walk that includes short bouts of slow, controlled running. 10–30 seconds is enough. Take a walk break. Take as many as you need. Start where you are. You don’t have to run without stopping to be a runner—you just have to begin. And if you listen, really listen—you just might find, somewhere along the way—maybe even on the ATT—that you’re free too. 

🌅Running Free

May we carry Galloway’s rhythm forward—one run, one walk break, one brave, freeing step at a time.

A smiling older man wearing a cap and light-colored jacket gives a thumbs-up gesture outdoors, surrounded by trees during dusk.
Thank you, John, for your never ending love and support of my running adventures!

I Don’t Know Where I’m Going, But I’m Following My Map: How discipline, values, and small steps help us move forward without certainty

When a Casual Comment Becomes a Lifeline

I was briefly chatting with my brother, Scott, a few months ago while he was driving through an unfamiliar town for a job interview. He was using a maps app to help him navigate, and I could hear the navigation system giving him verbal directions. Scott laughed and said, “I don’t know where I am going, but I’m following my map.” 

I teasingly told him that I was stealing that line–it sounded like an earworm lyric from a pop song, the kind that gets stuck in your head after hearing it once. Turns out, the line did stick with me, though not as a song. Instead, it became a phrase of comfort when answers to life’s questions felt far away. As I repeated it to myself, I realized that–contrary to what popular self-help and purpose-driven culture often suggests–we are frequently moving forward without clarity. And that’s okay.

The Maps We Follow in different seasons of life

The maps we use in life vary depending on the season we’re in, and they’re often shaped by our current goals. There are personal, professional, or inner-life maps to guide us: growth plans, workout schedules, work routines, creative practices, calendars, and goals of all kinds.

Listening to the Inner Compass

Alongside these maps, we possess an inner compass. This compass is rooted in our values. It helps us recognize which actions and choices align with who we are, and it often points us to what brings us meaning or joy. When we allow our inner compass to work in tandem with our life maps, even when neither promises certainty, they can still guide us forward. 

Why Consistency Matters More Than Certainty

As a runner training for a spring marathon, I rely on a training plan, a literal map. It requires me to show up even on those single-digit mornings when motivation is low. I trust this plan, knowing that it’s probably not perfect. Still, it moves me forward mile by mile. I do not need to know how strong I’ll feel weeks from now; I only need to follow today’s plan, step by step.

The same is true for maps focused on career progression, creative pursuits, and even healing journeys. Momentum is built through consistency, not certainty.

Progress Isn’t Linear

That momentum rarely moves in a straight line. It builds, rises, dips, and rebuilds again. It reminds me of using a navigation system that reroutes unexpectedly–or worse, sends me off at the wrong exit. Getting back on course can feel like a setback, even when it isn’t.

This mirrors life. Not every day is joyful. Some days are ordinary. Others are heavy and disappointing. Forward movement does not guarantee constant and abundant happiness. Sometimes, in order to recognize how far we’ve come, we have to pause long enough to feel gratitude for the distance already traveled. We also need to notice subtle signs of progress–the quiet evidence that we are, in fact, moving forward. 

At other times, we are nudged towards redirections. These reroutes aren’t a sign of failure; they’re simply adjustments–responses to the curveballs life inevitably throws our way.

Staying Aligned With True North

The key is remaining aligned with our True North. This means saying no to paths that look “successful” but feel hollow or ring untrue. When our thoughts, actions, and choices align with our core values, we maintain integrity–personally, professionally, and creatively. Our internal navigation stays intact, helping us to find our way, even when life reroutes us again and again.

The Quiet Freedom of Discipline

Staying true to our True North does require discipline, a word that is often misunderstood. When we live by deeply held values, we reduce decision fatigue. Our choices become acts of self-care, rather than sources of stress. Over time, this value-based, disciplined approach to life creates containers for joy–often found in small, quiet milestones along life’s way. 

When Scott said, “I don’t know where I am going, but I’m following my map,” he was acknowledging–intentional or not–that most of us don’t know exactly where our lives are headed. Yet as long as we remain tuned-in, to our True North–that still small voice within, we are allowed to trust that forward movement is occurring–even if it unfolds along a less straightforward timeline than we might prefer.

In a world filled with loud and distracting voices, I invite you to listen to the compass you trust and follow the map it provides. Have faith. Keep going, even when it feels as though you are going nowhere. Keep going. Your faith knows the way forward.

Navigating Life’s Uncertainties One Moment at a Time

Take one moment at a time and do the next right thing.”–Eleanor Amerman Sutphen

Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

What Did I hear? 👂

My ears perked up when I heard the guest on a podcast share the above phrase based upon  a poem by Sutphen, but made popular by both Elisabeth Elliot and Carl Jung. I had just arrived home with several bags filled with groceries to put away. Setting down the bags, I typed the phrase into my phone’s reminder app in order to remember it. Then, ironically enough, I returned to the next moment: putting away the groceries.

Like a persistent earworm, that phrase kept looping through my brain. Maybe it was Divine Providence, or maybe my subconscious niggled me to recognize the words I needed to hear. Regardless, the universe had offered me a nugget of wisdom to the question I had been asking, but had not yet been able to fully articulate: What can I do in the face of the difficult and uncertain life moment in which I found myself?  

Photo by Sergey Guk on Pexels.com

Snowy Days can lead to Sluggish Ways 😏

The month of January was a slippery, and less than stellar, start to the new year.  All around me, icy roads, alleys, and sidewalks served as a reminder that I was struggling to find my footing. As one who is not naturally organized and often has no sense of time, I function optimally with a routine/schedule.  It’s not that I can’t “go with the flow.”  I can do that quite brilliantly, but I don’t accomplish nearly as much, nor do I make as many–if any–inroads towards goals.

It is as if I have been dropped deep into a dark and menacing forest filled with a multitude of statuesque tree shadows and brambling thorny briers. Meanwhile, a multitude of strands in life’s web are criss-crossing in ways that make it feel less integrous, as if at any moment, the winds will shift and blow a hole in the tenuous gossamer nexus of life. I sense time sliding sideways, and I am trying to find my footing, so I don’t fall into the thin ice at the center of the mostly frozen pond. Arms flapping this way and that way, steps shortening, stumbling, and struggling to remain upright because I need to find my stride once more. 

Photo by Christina & Peter on Pexels.com

The Struggle Can be Real 😞

I am not the first, nor am I alone, I suspect, in feeling “something” akin to a crisis–a time in life when I find myself deeply questioning my purpose, my identity, and my role in all that is occurring. It is a time where I feel helpless to help others who need it but won’t accept it; a time with still unachieved goals and dreams, but I struggle to see, much less find, the path forward; and, a time in which I frequently ask myself: Am I doing the best I can with this one precious life I have been given?

Personally speaking, it feels as if the to-do list grows longer by the day, but few items are getting marked off.  While all around me, events, completely out of my control, dictate more chaos. Pixelated ideas frequent my mind, but my brain resists zooming in and focusing on any one thought as if the identity of each idea has been hidden like a person being interviewed for an investigative, undercover documentary. Overthinking, second-guessing, and a feeling of dormancy have entered my mental home and overstayed their welcome. 

Photo by Todd Trapani on Pexels.com

The Sweet Lesson of Winter Trees ❄️

As I write these words, I pause to gaze out at the trees in my backyard. They too are experiencing dormancy. Deciduous trees have slowed their internal processes and metabolism, halting their own growth in order to conserve energy. Inside the trees, cells have hardened and shrunk. Additionally, the water between the cells has frozen, and the water inside cells is becoming more dense and syrupy. Some trees even grow thicker bark in the winter to create a sheath of preservation until warmer temperatures arrive when growth and leaf production can once more occur.

I take a deep breath and feel the rise of my belly. Dawn’s light has gifted another overcast winter morning. The birds have also risen–chirp, chirp, chirping the gossip of a new day. The rise and fall of their flight, along with their up and down hip-hops along tree branches make me smile. I sigh out the exhale I had been holding, noticing the fall of my belly. With each breath I take, as I continue to ponder the nature beyond my window, I can’t help but notice the rising and falling of my stomach.

Photo by Aleksandr Sochnev on Pexels.com

The Rising and the Falling 🌅🌄

The sunrise, the trees, the birds, and even my breath remind me that everything is subject to rising and falling. Our pain and sadness, our joys and happiness, and even current events are all impermanent, rising and falling with the various seasons of life. This season of personal dormancy that has banked to new heights in my mind will eventually thaw like the melting of the once-deep snow. This is the nature of impermanence–the rising and the falling–nothing can last forever. 

Thus, these dark doldrums of winter housed in my mental guest room might be offering me an opportunity to do less, perhaps allowing my creative juices and energy to fully concentrate and thicken, much like the trees in my backyard, into the sweet syrup of forward progress. It will just take the sweet essence of time. And the only way to get there from the dark passages of here is to take one breath, one moment at a time and keep choosing to do the next right thing.