Road to 26.2.
What A “Yes” Can Lead To
Two years ago, running a marathon wasn't even on my radar.
Back then, a half-marathon felt like a world away. Twenty-six point two miles? That belonged to a different group of people. The crazy ones.
Yet here I am.
Two Weeks Before Race
With only two weeks until Grandma's Marathon, I was still battling plantar fasciitis.
As a chiropractor who studies the human body every day, it's humbling when your own body reminds you that knowledge doesn't always make you immune to injury.
The pain refused to disappear.
Instead of chasing the pain at the bottom of my foot, I went after the muscles responsible for creating the tension. Every day, I dug my thumb into my flexor digitorum longus, extensor hallucis longus, extensor digitorum longus, and fibularis longus. They weren't pleasant treatments, but little by little things began to change.
By race morning, my foot was still sore. But the sharp pain that had threatened to derail years of training had disappeared. The problem isn't where it hurts.
Race Day
I high-fived my crew, threw up a peace sign, and headed toward the starting line.
My goal wasn't a personal record. It wasn't even about me. It was about pacing my sister-in-law to her goal of finishing a marathon between four and a half and five hours.
For the first nineteen miles, everything was going exactly as planned. I made a strong little old lady smile while singing “What a Wonderful World” by Louis Armstrong, all while collecting tiny five-finger high-fives and Power Up Mushroom Heads.
We cruised through the half-marathon at under an 11:30 pace and stayed under 11:45 through mile nineteen. (What is more impressive is the shirtless guy with Hawaiian shorts and flip-flops. This is somewhere between mile 9 and 12).
Then...
Mile twenty.
If you've ever wondered why marathoners call it "the wall," I can tell you exactly why. It felt like getting hit by a semi-truck traveling full speed.
I looked over at my sister-in-law. "I've never had my quads and calves want to cramp at the same time or interchangeably before. If I fall back, keep going. Don't wait for me." For the first time in my life, I was experiencing muscle cramps.
She smiled.
"Same for me. Don't wait for me."
Not long after that, she slowly disappeared into a sea of determined, exhausted runners. A sense of pride and hope bolted through me, pride that she had a chance, hoping I had done enough to help her reach her goal. Suddenly, I found myself battling my own inner demons.
The Longest Few Miles
For what felt like forever, tears randomly filled my eyes.
Not because I was injured.
Not because I wanted to quit.
Because I thought I had failed.
I had set out to help someone else accomplish a goal, and now I couldn't guarantee it would happen.
My pace slipped to fourteen minutes and thirty-five seconds per mile. Every mile felt longer than the last. The physical pain was real.
But the mental pain hurt even more.
Redemption
Then another thought entered my mind. “I’ve been here before!” I knew if I didn’t figure this one out quickly, it would be a repeat of past trial runs. A thought finally crossed my mind: Did Not Finish (DNF). I didn’t drive train for almost two years, drove 12 hours, and spent thousands of dollars, only to DNF!
FOAM ROLL!
As strange as it sounds, that's all I could think about. Of course, there wasn't a foam roller anywhere. I laughed to myself.
"Only I would think to bring a foam roller to spectate a marathon."
“I need to think fast and get creative quick.”
I spotted a gentleman sitting alone, with a stainless-steel Contigo mug lying on its side. I, whatever you want to call it, over to the gentleman. "Sir... would it be possible if I used your bottle to roll out my quads?" Trying to help, he immediately started searching for empty plastic water bottles.
I laughed.
"No, sir... I meant the mug.” I looked at the well-used mug and realized what I was about to do to it, looked at him, and said, “I'll buy you a new one."
He smiled.
"Don't worry about it."
I wonder how many times he’s encountered something similar before?
For thirty seconds each leg, that Contigo Mug was my heaven. Sandwiched between the concrete sidewalk and muscles. I rolled my quad, IT band, and tensor fascia latae for 30 seconds each side. (Thank you, generous random gentleman!)
Thirty seconds!
That's it!
What felt like an eternity of suffering ended in less than a mile. By mile twenty-five, I had worked my pace all the way back to around 11:32 per mile.
The Finish
As I turned the final corner, I heard the announcer call my sister-in-law's name.
"She's not far ahead."
That was all I needed.
The finish line came into view.
At that point, who cared about pace?
Who cared about the clock?
I sprinted.
Not because I had anything left.
Because I wanted to finish strong.
Hindsight
After reflecting, I realized something. Everything I believed had gone wrong had actually gone right.
My sister-in-law ran the fastest marathon of her life. I finished my first marathon in 5 hours and 15 minutes without plantar fasciitis returning. I got to tackle something incredibly difficult alongside my brother and sister-in-law—people I love dearly.
Most importantly, I got to share this entire journey and opportunity with my incredible wife. Watching her transform from someone who complained about every training run to crossing the finish line of her very first marathon inspires me to continue to test my boundaries.
In the middle of the race, I thought I had failed. The truth is, I was digging myself into a rabbit hole and didn't know it.
What the Body Taught Me
One lesson stood out more than any other. Pain isn't always the problem. Sometimes it's simply the body's way of asking us to look deeper. The pain under my foot wasn't truly a foot problem. The source was higher up the kinetic chain. Once I treated the muscles creating the tension, the foot finally had a chance to recover.
The same principle applies to life.
When things get hard, our first instinct is to focus on what's hurting. Sometimes we need to stop chasing symptoms and be honest with ourselves and start looking for the cause. Sometimes, thirty seconds of the right solution is worth more than thirty miles of unnecessary suffering.
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