Almost six years. It has been almost six years since I laced up a pair of running shoes, put on a race bib, and stepped up to a starting line. During this time, I have grieved my father’s passing, given birth to baby #3 (Baby G), stepped away from a career, stepped down from pursuing a PhD, started a business, and attempted to get my running groove back several times. I also never stopped thinking about the next marathon I would race, though that dream often felt like it would never happen again.

Baby G was born in February 2020, just before the pandemic and lockdown. When she was three months old, I tried to ease back into running, but my body was not ready. I was nursing an exclusively breast-fed baby and the stress of being older, work, homeschooling two older kiddos, all took a toll on my milk supply. I spent the next several months prioritizing efforts to maintain my milk supply while occasionally getting out for a 20-minute walk. When Baby G turned a year old, I started trying to ease back into a running schedule. Over the next year, I would build a few weeks of running, logging runs three or four days a week (totaling 6-8 miles), then something would happen… a minor injury/ache, a sick kid, which meant a sick mommy, tummy troubles, weird fatigue issues, or simply a lack of time and running not feeling good. The perpetual pattern of not being able to stay consistent and being 30 pounds heavier since my last race made me feel like a failure, like I would never find my stride again, like I was too old to do it anymore.