Jack N Jill Marathon- 2026

Jack & Jill Marathon: The Gifts Beyond the Finish Line

There was so much before, during, and after this race that are a gift. Some lessons came through my training. Others came through life itself.

I know this blog post won't capture all of it, and that's okay.

Some parts of my running life feel aligned and consistent—my treadmill workouts and my long track runs. Other areas still feel unfinished or avoided—stretching, strength training, and dialing in my nutrition. Just like in my life too. I have areas I show up to, and other areas that need my attention.

What I love is that I'm becoming more aware.

I am practicing approaching myself with compassionate curiosity, learning not only about how I train, but how I live. It feels as though life reveals another layer of its wisdom only when I'm ready to receive it.

Running is one of my greatest teachers.

Believing Before the Evidence

I truly believed I had a 3:45 marathon in me.

Leading up to the Jack & Jill Marathon, I showed up well for my treadmill workouts. I showed up well for my long run days on the track. While I hadn't yet collected enough evidence that I could hold an 8:30 pace for 26.2 miles, I trusted the process.

My belief was there.

At the same time, I also knew where I hadn't fully shown up. My strength training lacked consistency. My stretching was minimal. My nutrition can still be dialed in.

I knew and now I KNOW. Sounds like my life outside of running too.

The goal remains the same.

I still choose to stay on the path.

The Weekend

When I signed up for Jack & Jill, Tony surprised me by planning a beautiful hotel stay for the weekend.

His confidence in me made me smile. I received that belief and the weekend getaway experience.

At the same time, I wanted him to understand something important.

"I believe," I told him. "But this is a journey. It might not happen this time."

Friday we settled into the hotel, and I turned in early knowing I'd be leaving around 3:00 a.m. for the race.

I like arriving early.

I like quiet.

I like giving myself time to think, walk, stretch, and simply observe.

As runners gathered in the darkness, I watched everyone prepare in their own way.

I didn't feel nervous.

I felt ready.

I am a Marathoner

This race held firsts for me.

It was my first marathon where I followed a fueling and hydration strategy that I had actually practiced during training.

Somewhere during the race, I had a simple thought.

I am a marathoner.

Not someone trying to become one.

I was one.

I had my gels. My water. My plan.

That realization alone felt like success.

The Race

Before the start, I found the 3:45 pacer and listened to his strategy.

We'd average around an 8:40 pace to the tunnel and then make up time on the downhill.

It sounded perfect.

The first five miles felt fresh.

The pace felt strong but manageable. I believed. I settled in.

Through the first several miles I could still see the 3:45 pace group ahead.

Everything still felt possible. My legs were fresh. I loved my taper. Ok! Let’s do this!

Around mile eight, they slowly drifted farther away.

I didn't panic.

I simply kept running.

Around mile fifteen, I caught sight of the 3:50 pace group instead.

"Darn," I thought.

I wondered if I could somehow close the gap.

A bathroom stop cost me a little time, but thankfully there was no wait.

After that, I never saw the 3:50 pacer again.

So I simply kept running.

One foot.

Then another.

Thinking.

Reflecting.

Amusing myself with all the thoughts flowing.

Learning.

Running is one of my favorite places to think about life.

Acceptance

Somewhere around mile twenty, I accepted that today wasn't going to be my 3:45 race.

Acceptance felt peaceful.

I became curious.

What does it really feel like to dig deep?

Not from desperation.

Not from disappointment.

But from love.

One realization surprised me.

For much of the race, I hadn't actually been enjoying the running itself.

My bigger goal isn't simply running an 8:30 pace.

My bigger goal is to feel strong, relaxed, joyful, and in flow while running at that pace.

That IS the goal I choose to pursue.

The Finish

When I saw the finish line, tears began to rise.

Not because I was physically exhausted.

Because my reality hadn't matched my expectations.

Looking back, reality had probably become clear somewhere between miles eight and fifteen.

I just wasn't ready to believe it yet.

That feels familiar.

Not just in running.

In life.

As I crossed the finish line, I held the tears back.

There would be time for them later.

Instead, I filled my heart with gratitude.

The distance had flown by.

Twenty-six miles hadn't felt long.

Each mile arrived surprisingly quickly.

That told me something I already knew about myself.

I am built for endurance.

I truly believe that and love that about me.

The Walk to the Shuttle

I picked up my drop bag.

Accepted my medal with a quiet "thank you."

Grabbed a bottle of water.

Then I began the walk to the shuttle.

That's when the tears came.

As I walked, I thought about an area in my life that currently feels difficult.

The emotions weren't only about the marathon.

My emotions are about becoming.

And as the tears flowed, so did gratitude.

Gratitude for my family.

Gratitude for friends who support me and believe in me.

Gratitude for people whose encouragement feels like a warm hug from heaven.

By the time I boarded the shuttle, I realized I had experienced exactly what I had hoped to experience.

The beautiful solitude of pursuing a deeply personal goal.

I am not alone.

I am incredibly loved.

This is my race to run.

My work to do.

My lessons to learn.

Thank You

This entire weekend—from the drive over to the drive home—felt like a gift.

Some experiences change us in ways we can't immediately explain.

This is one of those experiences.

I'm not sure I'll ever have words for everything I learned.

Some lessons need time before they can be spoken.

For now, one phrase feels complete.

Thank you.

Thank you for the miles.

Thank you for the disappointment.

Thank you for the joy.

Thank you for the love.

Thank you for the next chapter.

Because I'll be back on the track.

One lap.

One workout.

One lesson.

One gift at a time.

I love life and life loves me back.