Last summer’s vacation goal: unplug completely. No laptop. No phone. Just sunshine, food, beach naps… and, somehow, a 5K.
Let’s be clear: I. Do. Not. Run.
The last time I ran a race was sixth grade. I hated every second and swore I’d never put myself through that again. But this one supported a cause I love, lined up with my trip, and came with a T-shirt. So yeah, I signed up.
I set three goals:
1️⃣ Finish
2️⃣ Don’t finish last
3️⃣ Beat a beginner time I found online
(Okay, four). The last one was to prove to the naysayers wrong that I could do this. Aside from the biggest one (me), none of them knew I was running. This was for every time someone told me I couldn’t do something or underestimated me.
Training? I’m a gym mouse. I hit the bike, did strength training, and ran on a treadmill exactly once. Most of my cardio came from my dog, who treats every neighborhood walk like it’s Olympic time trials.
Race day energy was electric — people of every age, speed, and stride showing up to support something bigger than themselves. I tucked myself into the crowd, three-quarters back, excited but realistic.
When the horn blew, I took off: steady, focused, all in.
Halfway through, the doubts hit hard. What was I thinking? But I didn’t veer off course — I adjusted. I ran when I could, jogged or speed walked when I needed to, and made sure to high-five every kid with an outstretched hand along the way. My legs felt like Jell-O, but I just kept putting one foot in front of the other.
At one point, it was just me and the road. No crowd. No other runners. Just silence and effort. And in that quiet, something shifted. It wasn’t “I think I can.” It was “I know I can.”
Sometimes, you’ve got to be your own loudest cheerleader.
I was finishing this race — even if I had to crawl.
Then came a boost I didn’t expect: the race winner — on his third loop and now on his way to support his mom — spotted me and shouted encouragement as he flew past. He didn’t have to say anything, but he did. And it stuck.
Total boss move. Proof that a few kind words from someone on top can make more of an impact than they know. I picked up my pace as I rounded the corner to the finish line.
Final time? Four minutes faster than my goal. And nowhere near last. 🙌
Am I a runner now? Nope. But I’m someone who finished a 5K, and felt unstoppable doing it.
Will I do it again? All signs point to yes.
In fact, I’m already doing legit running prep. I’ve already got a tie for my hair, too.
I’m still going to slow down for every outstretched hand. Who knows? Maybe I was giving those kids a lift too, just like the race winner gave one to me.
Those split-second connections can make all the difference. Sometimes that’s all it takes to turn a tough stretch into a second wind.
It’s been months, and I’m still riding high. I can feel the shift — in my mindset, my energy, and the way I show up for everything — especially during tough times.
Crossing the finish line — especially one that took sweat, hustle, and a few “why did I do this?” moments — has a way of showing you just how strong you really are and remind you what you’re capable of.
The real win? Stepping out of my comfort zone and proving I could do it — embracing the stretch between start and finish, digging deep, pushing through, and walking away with lessons I can carry into every part of my life.