As a young girl, my dad often called me “bumblefoot.” While it was a term of endearment, it did what labels often do—it stuck. I internalized it to mean that I was absence of any athletic talent and that my legs were simply not made for running or any coordinated form of activity. I avoided team sports, as I was also lousy at catching or hitting a ball, and focused on hiking, including up a few mountains.
I went through my teens, then my twenties… then thirties, living inside the story that I simply “can’t run.” I didn’t mean that literally—every so often, I’d run to catch a train or chase one of my four rowdy kids. In my forties, I joined a boot camp where we occasionally had to go on a run. “You run like an elephant,” teased my instructor, Wolfgang, not realizing he was affirming what I’d long ago decided was true. Even my husband, always my champion, has a long-running joke about his “ballerina wife” because of how heavy-footed I am clumping up and down the wooden stairs in our home.
With this as context, earlier this year I decided earlier I wanted to run a marathon. Just one. And 2025 would be the year to do it. Given I’d only do one, I figured I should do the most iconic one—the New York City Marathon.
Which brings me to today, five days out from ‘race day’ and feeling both nervous and excited—though maybe a little more nervous than excited.
I’d like to tell you that I’ve followed a strict training regimen. But that would be untrue. Between work travel, long-haul flights, big projects and life in general, there have been many gaps between the training plan I printed out six months ago and the miles I actually did. Despite it not being ideal, I’ve pressed on, determined to defy the doubts of my younger self and do what this former “bumblefoot” once declared as an impossibility.
Many friends my age in their fifties, whose moments of athletic glory are often decades behind them, have asked how I’ve stayed motivated throughout the journey from struggling to run half a mile to being (sort of) ready to take on 26.2 miles (42 km) next Sunday. A few have argued that they are just ‘too old’. Others say they are simply too lazy. But I know a few have wondered if they too could run a marathon. So if any of these reflections empower someone else to take on a stretch challenge—physical or otherwise—then this article will be worth the time I took to write it.
Enlist cheerleaders, but be selective starting out
When I decided at the start of the year to run a marathon, the first person I told was my husband. Soon after, I told my sister and a dear friend who once ran a marathon herself. When none of them laughed (too loudly) and affirmed that I could do anything I set my mind to, I widened the circle—selectively at first, with those I could trust to give me a “You go for it!” high five. It was only after I had managed to run two miles (without stopping) and secured my spot in the marathon that I went fully public—and was all in!
Commit to a cause more compelling than avoiding discomfort
It’s said that when we have a big enough “Why,” we can figure out the “How.” My first “Why” was for myself—I wanted to experience how far my legs could take me, just once. I also wanted to permanently shed that old label and empower myself. Training for this marathon has been incredibly empowering.
I also had a second Why, beyond myself. I wanted to run for everyone who cannot run. In particular, for people with spinal injury like my brother Frank. While a motorbike accident left Frank with paraplegia, he has refused to let his paralysis keep him from living life to the fullest, even traveling across the world from Australia to visit me. I figured that if he could travel 10,000 miles to pay me a visit, I could run 26 miles to honor him. So, I registered to be part of “Team Reeve,” raising money to support spinal injury research with the Christopher & Dana Reeve Foundation. You can learn more about their work and support my fundraising here.
Dress for the person you’re on the way to becoming
On a friend’s suggestion, I got fitted for running shoes—a new experience for me. It seems like a small thing, but when I walked out of my local Pacers running store in bright purple Hokas, I felt a bit more like the runner I wanted to become. The first few times I went out in my new running gear, complete with a CamelBak for the humid DC summer, I felt like I was dressed up for Halloween as a marathon runner. But on I pressed .
Run your own best race, ditching the comparisions to your younger self
Another friend that I told about my marathon ambitions replied that she couldn’t bring herself to do one because she wouldn’t run as fast as she did in college. The lesson: avoid comparisons—with seasoned runners who are double your pace and with the younger version of yourself who was fitter and faster. While the Team Reeve group chat has been incredibly supportive, I’ve tried not to get pulled into a comparison spiral when others posted about their 21-mile runs long before I reached 10 miles. For me, finishing this race is winning this race. I’m not competing with anyone else—or even with my younger self (not that she was much competition!). The moment you give up competing and comparing, you win!
Embrace discomfort as a sign that you’re growing not a cue to give up
There’s no irony lost on me that while training for this marathon, I’ve been finishing my book The Courage Gap, encouraging others to “step into discomfort.” Needless to say, I’ve had to “walk my talk” many times, particularly over summer when my legs felt like bricks, and the humidity sapped my energy. But any goal that isn’t stretching you isn’t worthy of you. So embrace discomfort as a sign that you’re rising to your potential, not as a cue to give up. One foot in front of the other—however slow, however small—and it’s amazing how much ground you cover over time.
At the start of this year, I couldn’t run more than half a mile without being out of breath. Start wherever you are, and give yourself permission to be really lousy in the beginning. Just keep putting in the steps. If you sometimes need to walk or sit down, go right ahead. What matters most is that you don’t give up. While I’m not an exercise physiologist, I do know that our bodies can do extraordinary things when we set our minds to it. It’s why any marathon is as much a test of mental fitness as physical endurance.
Imagine how proud your future-self will feel
When I first decided to run this marathon, I watched videos of people crossing the New York City Marathon finish line, beaming with pride. Many times, while my weary body was “pounding the pavement,” I mentally stepping into the shoes of my future self crossing that finish line. I already know how proud that little 7-year-old “bumblefoot’ in me will feel for refusing to let her doubts and fear of not being good enough keep her from daring to run a really long way.
Research finds that our imagination is a powerful tool for peak performance, so use it to empower yourself. Imagine yourself crossing whatever finish line you’re inspired to reach—whether it’s a 5K Turkey Trot, a big project, or a long held aspiration. As research shows, the greatest reward from pursuing a bold goal is not actually achieving it, but the person we grow to become from daring to pursue it. This is as true for running a race as it is for building a business, hiking a mountain or leading a team.
I’m very aware that I’m publishing this article before I’ve actually run my best race! So yes, there’s a chance that something may happen to thwart my plans. But in the spirit of imagining my the desired future I want to experience – including me hobbling around the streets on New City next Monday with a proud smile on my face along with 50,000 others who’ve also run their own best race – I’m publishing it anyway.
If you’d like to see my exhausted/exhilarated smile, let’s connect on Linked In, Facebook and Instagram. And if you’d like to be braver in some part of your life, order my new book The Courage Gap! It will help you step into yours.