The conditions of will

On April 19, 2025, I completed my third marathon. Within the past calendar year, I have run three full marathons. My first marathon was unexpected; it was a game between my friends called the Beer, Donut, and Miles challenge, where I had run the 26 miles, followed by six beers and five donuts. Would not highly recommend this. My second marathon was my first official race in Albany, New York, where I set my PR of 3 hours and 54 minutes. My third and most recent marathon was at Newport, Rhode Island, preceded by my toughest training block and the most difficult course I have run on thus far. It is not lost on me how big of an accomplishment these feats are. 

My journey with running began in college. After having played soccer and tennis all my life, graduating from high school left me with a sports-sized void in my life. With no access to a gym or club teams to play on, I fell into the high school athlete-to-runner pipeline. This type of cardio was the only thing that seemed to fulfill the rigorous movement I was used to as a child. Over quarantine, with nothing else to do, it became a part of my daily routine. I never thought much of it back then, just one mile every day to keep my body moving. There are days now where I miss the simplicity of what running was to me, envious of myself a couple of years ago, who only viewed running as a cheap and accessible way to exercise. 

My relationship with running is like that of a toxic ex. It’s like being in love with someone so perfectly wrong for me, a puzzle piece that fits so well into my life, but only at the wrong times. Don’t get me wrong; I am deeply proud and grateful for a healthy body that allows me to do hard things. But somewhere down the line, running became more than just an outlet for me. On the good days, a run heals me. It reminds me of all the good things in the world, the community it brings about, the dreams it inspires. On those days, my legs feel like they can move forward forever, each stride taking me one step into a bright future. On the bad days, a run slowly beats me down. On those days, my lungs feel caged in by metal bars, and I am reminded of every dessert I’ve binged and the way the band of my shorts digs into my waist. These are the days when I’m tempted to hang up my laces and retire my gels. 

The odd thing is that the good days don’t outweigh the bad. Or maybe they do, but not significantly enough for me to ignore the bad days. The bad days weigh heavily on my shoulders, a poor run lingering in my head for the rest of the day. But what keeps me going, what pushes me to continue to pull out my sneakers and force myself out the front door every morning, is the feeling after any run. Even in the scalding Boston summers, in the sub-10-degree winters where the sun doesn’t rise until I’ve completed my miles, in wind gusts that climb up to 50 mph, the feeling of completion, the relief of perseverance, can never be replicated. It is the feeling of achieving something great, even if it is just an easy run, that fuels you into your next one. 

When there is no more motivation to get something done, all that is left is self-discipline. This sort of austerity does not come easily. It is something that is beaten into you, time and time again. It is like laying brick, slowly but surely. It demands consistency, it demands diving headfirst into the deep end. It requires stepping outside of your comfort zone and learning how to say “no”. When you lie awake in bed at six in the morning on a dark December morning, not much can pull you out from the warm cocoon of your bed. There is no motivation waiting for you outside your bedroom door. There is no hand pulling you out from under your covers. In moments like these, nothing is stopping you from snoozing your alarm, nothing except for self-discipline. 

People can do hard things. You can do hard things. When it comes to running, your body can achieve more than you believe. A tired saying, but not without truth: running is a mental sport. As you train your sprints and hills and intervals, you are also building upon your mental strength. When your body tells you to stop, your mind knows it can keep going. Are you tired, or are you done? Nothing changes if nothing changes. You do not need to run a certain distance or a certain speed to begin. The first step of any running journey is to just get out there. There is no delineation of what makes anyone a runner, besides just doing it. So if you’ve been thinking about going out for a run, put your shoes on and do it. There is no better time than now. 

I told myself after I finished my third race that I would never run another marathon, but I know (and everyone else in my life knows) that the fatigue speaks louder than my ambition in moments like those. Though I do not have any training lined up, nor will I have anything planned for the near future, I know that my running journey does not end here. Not while I still have the strength to carry on, not when I still have the willpower for 5 am runs, not while I still have the passion and the drive to achieve greater. No, this is definitely not the end.