I did it! I ran the Chevron Houston Marathon, destroying my original goal of breaking 3:40 and finishing with a time of 3:32:07 (darn those seven seconds!). I’m incredibly proud of myself for sticking to my goal and seeing it through. The weeks leading up to the race were some of the more challenging of this training cycle. Training during the holidays, battling a sinus infection, and enduring snow and cold weather were tough enough. On top of that, two weeks before race day, my family got sick. To make matters worse, Andrew, Tristin, Dan, and Annmarie from the ZAP team also got sick. I was certain I was doomed, but being a little selfish during those final weeks paid off, and I avoided a major setback.
Despite staying healthy, I felt a bit worn down. About 10 days before the race, my spirits were lifted when I tackled the famous Yasso 800s: 10×800 meters with 2-3 minutes of rest, averaging 3:31 per interval. The workout went so well that I stopped after nine repeats, figuring that at this stage, less was more. This performance hinted that, on a great day, I could potentially run a 3:31 marathon. While I believed it was possible, I wasn’t entirely sure I could execute such a race.
As race day approached, nerves hit me harder than expected. The sheer length of the marathon began to intimidate me, and for the first time, I doubted my ability to finish the distance. My focus was only on pace and time in previous marathons, but this time felt different. The night before the race, as I lay in bed with a knot in my stomach and adrenaline surging, I told myself, “No, you’re not doing this to yourself. You’ve worked too hard to let pre-race anxiety ruin this.” I turned to relaxation techniques I hadn’t used in years: deep breathing and visualizing my most comforting place—lying in bed at home, cuddling with my favorite sleeping buddy, our dog Coco. Somehow, I managed to get six hours of sleep before my 4:30 a.m. alarm.
Race morning was colder than I’d hoped, but I’d take cold over heat or rain any day. The temperature hovered around 33-35°F, so I opted for tights and a long-sleeved shirt. I don’t like being cold, and at those temps, I figured overheating wouldn’t be an issue. I arrived at my corral about 30 minutes before the start, only to realize I was much farther back than I’d expected. It took me four minutes just to cross the starting line. I know this is normal, but I’ve never had to do this before. I planned to start slightly behind the 3:35 pace group and catch them by the halfway point. However, in the chaos of everyone moving toward the start I lost sight of them.
I don’t use a GPS watch when I race and just go by feel. This is always a bit unnerving the first mile but I went through the split somewhere around 8:20, just as planned. It wasn’t until around mile six that I began to relax and feel my body thaw out in the cold air. By then, I had caught the 3:35 pace group and, for the first time, started to feel good. By mile eight, I passed the group and was ready to push ahead, but I knew the wind would be an issue from mile 10 to mile 18. When I reached the nine or 10-mile mark, I felt the wind for the first time. I tried tucking in behind other runners, but it wasn’t very effective, and I think I might have annoyed them. Knowing the pace group wasn’t far behind, I decided to slow down and rejoin them. By mile 17, I was getting the one annoyed with running in a group and decided to move ahead. I was ready to start pushing but held back until mile 20.
In the final stretch, I felt relieved to just run and not worry about going too fast. I tried to relax and get into a flow, but my butt and hamstrings were tight. They had hurt for most of the race, which was a clear sign I’ve been neglecting the weight room. I convinced myself the pain wouldn’t get worse—and luckily, it did only a little. I trusted my fueling strategy, taking a Maurten gel every four miles and drinking water at most of the aid stations every 1.5 miles. I knew I wouldn’t bonk; I just wanted to finish strong.
Around mile 22, things started to change. My right hamstring felt tighter, my right quad seized momentarily, and my right big toe began to hurt. All I could think was, “Please don’t let it fall apart now.” I kept pushing. By mile 24, my big toe really hurt, and I knew that toenail was a goner, but there was no way I was slowing down. I finished my last two miles at my fastest pace, running 7:39 and 7:16, and rolled through the final 0.2 to the finish. If you saw the video ZAP posted, all I was thinking during those last four miles was, “Oh, this is hard.”
People have asked me whether training and marathons are harder or easier now compared to 20 years ago. My answer? It’s all hard; it’s just different. Training now feels harder because I don’t recover as quickly, and I rarely feel great. Life’s distractions make it tough to get lost in my thoughts and enjoy the miles. But in the past, the pressure to perform and have everything go perfectly was much greater. Training now is more of an “I should,” while back then it was an “I have to.” In the past, I had more confidence and excitement. The joy of performing and achieving was stronger. Now, I have to find new ways to create that same joy.
I’ve found that joy again through my running partners, ZAP Running Camp friends, and the larger running community. Sharing miles and conversations with others brings a sense of camaraderie that reminds me why I love this sport. Whether it’s a casual weekend run, encouraging messages from friends, or celebrating finish-line victories together, the connections I’ve built with others have reignited my passion. Running is no longer just about the numbers or the race results—it’s about the people who make every step meaningful.
Post-Script
Unfortunately, on January 31, during a morning walk, I hit an unexpected setback. While navigating a half-thawed hill, one foot slipped on ice while the other stayed planted, causing me to fall awkwardly onto my left leg—resulting in a fractured fibula. Now, I’m facing at least three weeks on crutches with no weight-bearing, followed by three weeks in a boot, and then we’ll see where things stand. Maybe this means another year of starting over, but who knows? Boston 2026 might just be the next big goal on the horizon!