From One-Tenth of a Mile to Here

I often get asked how I got started running, so I thought I’d share my story.

Technically, my running journey began in the late ’80s at Benton Jr./Sr. High School. Every spring, my best friend Jill and I would decide to run the 5K that was part of our annual field day. Each year we confidently declared that we were going to train for it… and each year, that never happened.

We would line up anyway and spend most of the race jogging just ahead of the truck that followed behind to pick up the stragglers.

We always finished—but we paid for it. For the better part of a week afterward, we’d walk around sore and wondering why we had done that to ourselves. Back then, running was something you survived, not something you loved.

Fast forward to the spring of 2002. I had been doing Weight Watchers for nearly nine months but couldn’t lose the last five pounds to reach my goal. After yet another frustrating weigh-in, I went home determined to try something different.

I decided to start running.

The path near my house was marked in tenths of a mile, so I ran one-tenth of a mile… and then walked until I could breathe again. I repeated that over and over. Slowly, I built up the distance until I could run the full 1.5-mile loop without walking. Then I kept going. Before long, I was regularly running as much as ten miles at a time.

Eventually, injury and surgery sidelined me, and I stepped away from running for a few years.

In 2011, as I faced the reality of an empty nest, I realized I needed something that was just mine. I returned to running and signed up for a 5K on January 1, 2012—my first official race. For a while, I ran mostly on my own. Then, in September of 2012, I joined a local training program.

That decision changed my life.

I found a community of supportive, motivating people who challenged me and helped me believe I was capable of more than I ever imagined.

And somewhere along the way, running stopped being just something I did for myself. I realized I wanted to help other people discover what movement could do for them, too.

In February of 2014, I earned my RRCA coaching certification, and the following month I began coaching with RunFit Kidz, helping kids learn that running and movement could be fun, empowering, and something they could carry with them for life. I also began coaching adults that year.

This September, I’m beginning my 13th year of coaching adults, and I’ve now been coaching RunFit Kidz for more than 12 years. In May 2024, I became the Director of RunFit Kidz, giving me the opportunity to help shape a program that introduces hundreds of young athletes to running, healthy habits, confidence, and the joy of movement.

Since joining that first training group in 2012, I’ve completed more than 200 races, including nine marathons. But these days, I don’t define myself—or fitness—only by miles and finish lines.

I strength train. I hike. I walk. I run. I coach. I keep learning. And I believe more than ever that movement should support the life we want to live, not become another way to judge ourselves.

I’ve also learned firsthand that our relationship with fitness changes as we do. I’ve moved through injuries, setbacks, menopause, celebrations, disappointments, comebacks, and now life as a grandmother—Ree. I’m stronger in some ways than I was 20 years ago and still working on others. I think that’s exactly how it’s supposed to be.

And now I’m stepping into another new chapter.

Along with a group of incredible women, I’m helping build Fuel Your Fire, a women’s wellness community created to connect women with information, resources, practitioners, and—maybe most importantly—each other. It feels like a natural extension of everything I’ve learned through coaching: wellness is about so much more than exercise, and none of us should have to figure it all out alone.

When I look back, it still makes me laugh that all of this started because I wanted to lose five stubborn pounds.

Running gave me confidence when I needed it, community when I was searching for connection, and purpose when I wasn’t sure what came next. Coaching gave me the chance to pass those things along to someone else.

And over the years, my definition of wellness has gotten a whole lot bigger.

It’s running and strength training and hiking. It’s taking care of our bodies while still enjoying our lives. It’s finding people who make us better. It’s trying new things, starting over when we need to, and refusing to believe there’s an age when we’re supposed to stop setting goals for ourselves.

I’m still a runner.

But I’m also a coach, a strength-training enthusiast, a hiker, a community builder, a business owner, a wife, a mom, and Ree.

And the best part?

I’m still not done.

Training Your Mind For The Miles Ahead

When most people think about running, they think about physical fitness. Stronger legs. Better endurance. Faster times.

As a running coach who works with both adults and children, I’ve learned that many running struggles have very little to do with fitness and a whole lot to do with what’s happening between our ears.

This is especially true for the adults I coach. Most are over 40 and bring decades of life experience to the starting line. They are balancing careers, raising children, caring for aging parents, managing households, and trying to carve out time for themselves. Their challenges often aren’t about whether they’re capable of running the miles. The challenge is managing the mental side of the sport.

The Mental Roadblocks

One of the biggest mental challenges runners face is comparison.

Maybe you have a running buddy who is naturally faster than you. Every run feels like a struggle to keep up. Instead of enjoying the miles, you’re constantly worried about falling behind.

Or perhaps your running partner brings a steady stream of negativity to every workout. The weather is too hot. The route is boring. The run is too long. The pace is too hard.

Whether we realize it or not, the people we spend our miles with can have a significant impact on our mindset. Running partners should challenge us, but they should also support us. If every run leaves you feeling defeated, it may be time to evaluate whether your running partnership is helping or hurting your progress.

Another common obstacle is unrealistic expectations.

Many runners remember what they could do ten, twenty, or even thirty years ago. They compare today’s body to the body they had when they were younger, recovering faster, sleeping more, and dedicating significantly more time to training.

The reality is that most adult runners are juggling far more responsibilities than they did in their twenties. They have careers, families, community commitments, and countless other demands on their time and energy.

The goal isn’t to train like your younger self. The goal is to train like the version of you that exists today.

That may mean adjusting expectations, extending training timelines, or redefining what success looks like. It may also mean taking an honest look at your goals and asking yourself whether they are realistic based on the time and energy you currently have available.

The Ghost of the Athlete You Used to Be

Sometimes our mental struggles during a run aren’t about the run at all. They’re about how we see ourselves.

Many runners are coming back from something—an injury, an illness, menopause, a major life event, or simply a long break from the sport. Yet when they lace up their shoes, they expect themselves to perform like the athlete they were years ago.

Sometimes we’re haunted by the ghost of our past athlete.

We remember the pace we used to run. The distances that felt easy. The races we completed. The version of ourselves that seemed stronger, faster, or more capable.

The problem is that we’re comparing today’s runner to yesterday’s runner.

It’s important to meet yourself where you are right now.

That doesn’t mean you should give up on your goals or stop believing in what’s possible. Many runners successfully return from setbacks and accomplish incredible things. But the path forward begins with accepting your current reality.

Give yourself grace.

Start from your current fitness, not from your memories.

Celebrate the small wins. Trust the process. Allow yourself the time needed to rebuild.

Your past athlete isn’t the enemy. That version of you proved what you’re capable of. But today’s athlete deserves the same respect, patience, and encouragement that you would give to any runner standing at the beginning of a new journey.

Building Mental Strength

The good news is that mental skills can be trained just like physical ones.

One of my favorite tools is having a mantra ready before you need it.

When a run gets difficult, your brain will start offering opinions. Not all of them are helpful.

A simple phrase such as:

One step at a time.
Strong and steady.
I can do hard things.
Forward is forward.

can help redirect your focus and quiet the negative chatter.

Music can be another powerful tool. Consider creating a playlist that you reserve only for the toughest parts of your runs. When your favorite songs appear at exactly the moment you need them, they can provide a surprising boost.

If you’re in a long training cycle, look for ways to break up the journey. A tune-up race can provide a fresh goal, a confidence boost, and an opportunity to celebrate progress before your primary event.

Most importantly, surround yourself with people who support what you’re trying to accomplish.

Sometimes the people who love us most don’t fully understand why we’re waking up before dawn to run long distances or spending months preparing for a race. That’s okay. Seek out fellow runners who understand the process and can remind you why you started when motivation begins to fade.

Finding Joy Along the Way

Not every run needs to be about pace, distance, or performance.

Sometimes the best thing you can do is give yourself something small to look forward to.

On a long run, I often encourage runners to find a way to break up the miles. Maybe that means running to the next mailbox, the next water stop, or the next mile marker. Sometimes it means challenging yourself to take one photo of something interesting, beautiful, or unexpected along the route.

These small mental breaks can shift your focus away from how much farther you have to go and help you stay present in the moment.

Running doesn’t have to be an endless pursuit of faster times. It can also be an opportunity to explore, reflect, connect, and appreciate.

The Finish Line

The longer I coach, the more convinced I become that running is as much a mental sport as a physical one.

Our thoughts can build us up or tear us down. They can help us persevere through challenges or convince us to quit before we’ve even given ourselves a chance.

The next time a run feels difficult, take a moment to ask yourself an important question:

Is my body struggling right now, or is it my mind?

The answer might surprise you.

And once you learn to train both, you’ll discover that you’re capable of far more than you ever imagined.

What Does A Runner Look Like?

She looks like a runner.

It was a simple comment. Casual. Probably not meant to carry much weight.

But it has stayed with me.

Because the person it was said about… doesn’t run.

She’s strong. She’s fit. She shows up for herself in ways that deserve respect. But running? That’s not her thing.

And yet—that’s what a runner looks like?

I haven’t been able to shake it.

Not because there’s anything wrong with her. But because of what it quietly suggests about me.

Because here’s the truth—I don’t look like what people picture when they think of a runner.

I’m not the image you see in ads or magazines. I don’t fit the mold that so many people have been taught to associate with speed, endurance, or strength.

And yet…

I’ve run over 200 races.
Nine marathons.
Countless miles in between.

I’ve shown up on the days when it felt easy—and the days when it felt impossible.
I’ve run through stress, through change, through seasons of growth and seasons of doubt.

Running is not something I look like.
It’s something I live.

And maybe that’s the part we’ve gotten wrong.

Somewhere along the way, we started believing that movement has a “look.”
That strength has a shape.
That being a runner is something you can determine with your eyes.

But being a runner isn’t about appearance.

It’s about choosing to show up.
It’s about putting one foot in front of the other—again and again—whether anyone is watching or not.
It’s about building something within yourself that no one else can define for you.

This season of my life has reminded me of that in a deeper way.

My body has changed.
My pace has changed.
My routines look different than they used to.

But none of that takes away from who I am.

If anything, it’s made me more certain.

Because being a runner was never about fitting into a box.

It’s about showing up—especially when it would be easier not to.
It’s about choosing to keep going, even when things feel different than they used to.

It’s about learning how to trust yourself in new seasons.

And maybe that’s what we should start recognizing when we look at someone and think—

She looks like a runner.

Not a body type.
Not a pace.
Not a number.

Just someone who knows who she is…
and isn’t afraid to keep showing up for it.

To keep showing up for herself.

To keep fueling what’s still there.

Starting Over—Again!

Since the fall of 2019, I’ve been determined to complete my 10th marathon. Each time I signed up, though, life threw a new obstacle in my path. Turning 51 brought unexpected changes—perimenopause and menopause—that left me exhausted, gaining weight, and struggling to recognize myself. My energy was low, my mind felt foggy, and I wondered if I’d ever feel like the runner I once was again.

Then the pandemic hit, shutting down races and routines. In those early months, I suffered a significant ankle sprain, followed later by Covid. Somewhere in the chaos, I became anemic, sprained my ankle again, and lost my motivation for the gym. Just as things finally seemed to be improving, a serious knee injury sidelined me for nearly a year.

Despite all of this, I refused to give up. I kept signing up for marathons—and even a few 50Ks—but each time, something went wrong. I found myself stuck in a cycle of disappointment and self-criticism. Not making it to the start line became a pattern, and with every missed opportunity, I grew harder on myself.

A few weeks ago, something shifted. I realized I’d lost sight of the basics—both physically and mentally. Instead of focusing on what I couldn’t do, I chose to start fresh. Now, I’m training for a 5K, just like I did for my very first race on January 1, 2012. My hope is that once I cross that finish line, I’ll feel strong enough to move on to a 10K, then a 10-miler, a half marathon, and eventually, marathon number ten.

This time, I’m celebrating every step forward. I’m learning to be patient with myself, to honor the progress I make, and to remember that every new beginning is a victory. If you’re facing your own setbacks, know this: starting over isn’t a failure—it’s a courageous choice. Progress is possible, one step at a time.