What Training for My First Marathon Has Taught Me (That Has Nothing to Do With Running)

When I signed up for Grandma’s Marathon, I knew I was committing to something physically hard. Long miles, sore muscles, early alarms. I expected blisters, tight calves, and maybe a few tears.

What I didn’t expect was how much training for a marathon would change me outside of running shoes.

Here’s the truth: marathon training has stretched me in ways that have nothing to do with pace or mileage. It’s taught me more about life, patience, and self-respect than I ever thought possible from something as “simple” as running.

1. Progress isn’t always linear—and that’s okay.

Some weeks I felt on top of the world. I crushed my long runs, felt strong, and thought, “I’ve got this.”

Other weeks? Total mess. My legs were dead. My energy was gone. My sleep and nutrition weren’t ideal, and I wondered if I was even cut out for this.

But I kept going. I learned to zoom out and look at the whole picture. One bad run doesn’t define me. One missed workout isn’t the end of the world. Growth doesn’t happen in a straight line—and it doesn’t need to be perfect to be real.

2. Discipline can coexist with grace.

I used to think discipline meant being hard on myself—forcing myself through every run no matter how I felt. But I’ve learned that real discipline includes knowing when to rest. When to back off. When to eat the cookie. When to say, “I need to sleep instead of squeezing in 5 miles.”

I’ve learned how to listen to my body while still honoring my goals. I’ve learned how to hold myself accountable without punishment. That’s the kind of discipline I want to carry into every part of my life.

3. Small habits add up to big things.

Marathon training is mostly… unglamorous. It’s early mornings. Repeating the same routes. Planning your weekend around long runs. Choosing water over wine (sometimes). Stretching even when you don’t want to.

But over time, those small, boring decisions become powerful. They build something bigger than just endurance. They build trust in yourself. They remind you: “I show up, even when it’s hard. I keep promises to myself.”

That’s a lesson I’ll carry long after race day.

4. There’s strength in showing up when it’s messy.

This journey hasn’t been perfect. I’ve had weeks where my nutrition was off. I’ve skipped strength workouts. I’ve run on way too little sleep. I’ve cried mid-run. But I’ve also kept going.

Training for this marathon has shown me that I don’t need to be perfect to be strong. I just need to show up, even when I’m tired, overwhelmed, or unsure. That’s where the magic lives—in the showing up.

In two weeks, I’ll stand at the start line of my very first marathon—not just as someone who trained to run 26.2 miles, but as someone who showed up again and again when it wasn’t easy. No matter how race day unfolds, I already know I’ve gained something bigger than a medal: resilience, self-trust, and the quiet confidence that comes from doing hard things—even imperfectly. That’s a win I’ll carry with me long after the finish line.