Training for the NYC Marathon Has Made Me A Better Mom

Over the past year and half, I found myself becoming less and less motivated with life. It was almost as if I was simply burnt out from everything. Burnt out from my job, burnt out from being a mom, burnt out from being a wife. Just so burnt to the point that I could not even accomplish the simplest of tasks that normally were just part of the every day. I started to feel so overwhelmed by the pressure of everything and not knowing how to get it all done, that I just stopped doing things. I was making it through the days just getting by, not really being excited about anything or upset about anything. I was not tackling life with the same enthusiasm and optimism that I once was. I was hitting a point where I was okay with not trying and that is a scary feeling.

One day I was asked by the Founder of a non-profit organization if I would run the New York City Marathon to raise awareness about Duchenne Muscular Dystrophy (DMD). If you do not know what it is,  I suggest you Google it. The founder’s son was diagnosed with DMD at four years old and will not make it on this earth for very long. The progression of the disease will leave him paralyzed anywhere between 9-13. But I digress.

When I was asked my immediate response was “Hell effing no. I hate running. Never in my life have I ever thought of running 26.3 miles. It is not on my bucket list. Going to Egypt and seeing the pyramids is more my bucket list style.”

We both laughed at my response and then I left for the evening. That night, while I was sitting with my three beautiful healthy children I started to think about what an inconsiderate jerk I was. What kind of response was that to say to someone whose son will never know what it is like to walk a mile, let alone run in one of the most prestigious marathons ever? My legs work perfectly fine. No they do not want to run that much, but I am healthy and blessed with the ability to run. So the next day, I went in and signed up to run the 2018 NYC Marathon….then I threw up.

I just want to make it crystal clear so there is a complete understanding of my feelings towards running. I absolutely hate running. It is on my top 5 list of most hated things in life. Agreeing to do this marathon is one of the biggest challenges and commitments I have ever made. Oh, challenges and commitments are also on that list. Just trying to paint a clear picture.

I started training on June 1, 2018. The first few weeks your longest run is 5 miles. I was barely making 5 miles under an hour. My pace was practically a 12 minute mile, which meant it would take me basically forever to run 26.3. And it was an ugly 12 minute mile and such a struggle. I was training alone. There was no one there to push me when I wanted to stop. I was my worst enemy. I was trying to talk myself out of training.

“You know, no one will know if you stop and walk. You should, you are never going to be able to run the full way.” or “You don’t have to do 5 miles today. Just do 3. That is good enough. Who is going to know if you don’t do it? Just tell everyone you did 5.”

Not having anyone beside me to hold me accountable made it easy for me to just give up. But I didn’t. As much as it sucked, and it does suck, I would run every mile that my training schedule said to do on the days that it said to do it. It wasn’t pretty, it wasn’t fun, but I just had to do it.

As the weeks went on, my stride got better, my pace got faster, my endurance grew, and I even smiled when I ran. Was this possible? Was I really finding enjoyment from running? The day that I ran 11 miles was a turning point for me. I never, in my entire life, even as a college athlete, ran anything close to 11 miles. To run 11 miles and make it was the most amazing feeling. I accomplished something that I never ever thought that I could and I did it on my own. There was no one there to cheer me on and push me. I had to motivate myself the entire way. I was actually amazed by ME. I do not think I have ever amazed myself, but in that moment I did.

Naturally I started of every conversation on that day with “Hey how are you? I ran 11 miles today. How are the kids? Are they enjoying summer camp?”

Being able to accomplish a challenge that I never thought I could, made me so proud of ME. I really can do anything that I set my mind to. I know it sounds cliché, but it is the simplest of all truths. And not only could I reach that challenge, but I could go even further. I could really run, if I worked hard enough, 26.3 miles.

I don’t really know when I started to notice the impact it was having on my life and with my family.  But it has definitely had one. Things that I procrastinated on because I was scared I couldn’t do them, I met head on with conviction. The overwhelming feeling I constantly had has been replaced with determination. If I can run 20 miles then I most certainly can figure out how to help my son with his first grade math homework (for those who might not be aware yet, first grade math is equivalent to making an origami tiger. It freaking hard.)