The Ups and Downs of Getting Back to Running: A Personal Story
August 6, 2025
There’s something uniquely humbling about returning to something you once loved—only to find it no longer comes easy. Whether it’s a sport, a passion, or a version of yourself you thought you’d never lose, the journey back can feel more like a climb than a comeback.
Once upon a time, I was an avid runner. I am not a naturally athletic person. But I am competitive. And I’m not one to run from a challenge. There were many times I’d be running on a treadmill at the gym. I’d try to focus on my run. Focus on my pace. Focus on my breathing. But without fail, my eyes would fall to the person on the machine to my side. I had to know how fast they were running. And if they were going faster than me, well that was unacceptable. I’d adjust my speed. Maybe they glanced over and noticed so maybe they’d push the speed button up once or twice. So, would I. And we continued on with this silly game until we were both obviously running at an uncomfortably faster speed than we were used to. Eventually I’d regroup myself and refocus on my workout.
A neighbor of mine at the time spoke of running a marathon – her first. She told me just how much grit and discipline it demanded. And the feeling of triumph and euphoria it yielded. Something stirred inside me. “I can do that,” I thought. And that’s how my running journey began.
Let me tell you. It was tough. I didn’t fall in love with running overnight. I recall going out for my first run around the neighborhood. I didn’t have a fancy watch or app tracking my distance, pace and heart rate. But I just knew in my gut that it had to be at least three miles. I did this a few times before I actually mapped out the distance. One slow and painful mile! I was floored. There is no possible way running one mile could be that hard. Turns out, the truth stings more than the lactic acid. I could have stopped right then and there. But like I said before, I’m not running from a challenge, pun intended.
It took a little time but before long, that mile got to be pretty easy. That mile stretched to 3 miles. Then it was 5. It wasn’t long before I found and joined a local training group. They had a rigorous training plan and I stuck to it religiously.
Our coaches urged us to run a half marathon. I signed up for the San Antonio Rock & Roll Half Marathon. I had run my fair share of 5ks and 5 milers, but 13.1 miles? That was unchartered terrain. Nerves started to creep up. I was afraid of starting too fast and running out of gas, or worst, that I’d need someone to drag me across the finish line.
On November 14, 2010, I ran my first half marathon. The day was off to a good start, perfect cool, dry morning. The race started and I quickly found my rhythm as I worked my way through the crowd of runners. Then, not even to the 1st mile marker, a train delay. I couldn’t believe it! I stood there beside thousands of runners waiting for a freight train to pass so we could continue our race. The train may have been a blessing in disguise. I felt the need to make up the time lost and pushed a little harder. I finished the race in 1:55:45, which was later adjusted for the train delay. The sense of pride and accomplishment is indescribable.
Pleased with those results, I trained harder, increased my mileage, determined, looking ahead to the next race, the big race, 26.2 miles. I signed up for the Austin marathon. The course for the Austin marathon is filled with brutal hills making it very challenging and no one recommends it for a first marathon, but I didn’t find out about that until after I’d signed up.
On February 20, 2011 I finished my first marathon, 26.2 miles in 4:42:36. It wasn’t easy. But I crossed that finish line. I was hurting and sore. So sore, that despite hating the cold, I submerged in an ice bath in hopes of giving my achy muscles some relief. Sitting in that cold ice bath, shivering and aching, I was reminded that growth and triumph rarely feels glamorous. Most days, it just looks like showing up and trying again. And again. And again.
That season taught me that consistency yields progress. And progress leads to success. Consistency builds endurance. Whether you’re training for a race or just trying to make it through another day. And I couldn’t wait to do it all again the following year!
I took some time to rest and recover. But in that time of rest, life took over. Between work, kids, and every day responsibilities, running just didn’t feel as big a priority. That is, until training season came around again. I caught up with my old running group and hit the pavement as if I’d never stopped…big mistake. My enthusiasm outpaced my preparation, and injury soon followed. The big lesson was: you can’t always pick up where you left off.
I’ve been riding this on-again, off-again rollercoaster for 20 plus years now. It is a hard, humbling truth that not everything is like riding a bike. You don’t just get back on and go. You have to put in the work. You have to strengthen your foundation and rebuild from the ground up. You’ve got to earn back what was once yours. You have to make it second nature again. And in that process, don’t get discouraged if progress comes slowly. This reaches far beyond the pavement. We all know the frustration that stems from knowing who we were, who we are, and who we want to be.
It’s been hard to accept that I can’t make my body do what it did back then. That I may not be as fast. That I may not go as far… 26.2 miles is not easy on the knees. But running is great for my soul. Maybe I’ll never be the runner I once was. But each mile reminds me I’m still moving. So, for now, I’m not giving up. I’m back at it. Training slowly. Steady. Consistently. It’s not easy, but I’m enjoying every mile.