The Marathons That Built Me (And the Pause That Followed)


I’ve run a lot of marathons.

When I look at the list now, it almost surprises me. Years of training cycles, early mornings, finish lines in cities all over the country, and versions of myself that no longer exist in the same way they once did.

From my first Derby Marathon in Louisville in 2011, to Chicago, Indianapolis, Cincinnati (more times than I can count), Disney, Marine Corps, Rock ‘n’ Roll races, and finally Pocatello in September 2023 — these races span over a decade of my life.

Some were fast.
Some were ugly.
Some were done on tired legs, broken plans, or sheer stubbornness.

A few highlights (and lowlights):

  • Sub-4 in my early years, when everything felt possible

  • Learning how hard patience actually is

  • Multiple Flying Pig Marathons — because Cincinnati has a way of pulling you back

  • A 12:58:30 50-mile ultra that completely changed how I define “hard”

  • Finishing marathons when I was undertrained, overworked, or just mentally exhausted

  • And plenty of races where the goal wasn’t a time — it was simply to finish

Each one taught me something different. About pacing. About humility. About listening to my body (or ignoring it). About how much life outside of running affects what happens on race day. They also gave me friendships I never would have found otherwise — people connected by miles, effort, and showing up even when it was hard.

And then… I stopped.

The Gap No One Likes to Talk About

My last marathon was in September 2023.

Since then?
No full marathon finish lines. No big marathon medals or celebratory race photos.

I still ran. I still showed up for races here and there. But I didn’t make it back to 26.2 — not with injuries lingering, including an almost torn hamstring, and a body that kept asking for more recovery than I wanted to give.

At my peak, I was running well over 1,000 miles a year without thinking twice about it. Training was routine. Miles stacked up quietly in the background of my life.

And then there was 2025 — a year where I didn’t even crack 100 total miles. Not because I forgot how to run, but because everything else demanded more than my body had left to give.

Not because I stopped being a runner.

But because life happened.

Injuries piled up.
Work got heavier.
Family needed more.
Recovery took longer than expected.
Motivation didn’t always show up when I needed it.

And yes — excuses crept in too.

I could dress it up and say “strategic rest” or “intentional pause,” but the truth is messier than that. There were weeks where I didn’t train like I wanted to. Months where running felt more frustrating than freeing. Times where I questioned whether I even wanted to chase another marathon at all.

And that’s hard to admit when you’re someone who has built part of your identity around being “the runner.”

What I’ve Learned From Stepping Away

Stepping away didn’t undo the work I put in — but it did force me to see it differently.

Those marathons still matter. The miles still count. But I’m not the same runner I was when most of them happened, and I don’t think I’m supposed to be.

Time changes your body. Life changes your priorities. Experience changes how you approach hard things.

I’m more aware now — of what recovery actually requires, of how quickly injuries can stack up, and of how thin the margin is between pushing through and pushing too far. I still care about running, but I care more about being able to keep running.

This isn’t about proving anything anymore.
It’s about rebuilding in a way that fits the life I have now — not the one I had ten years ago.

Why I’m Writing This Now

This post isn’t about bragging or listing finishes for validation.

It’s about honesty.

About acknowledging both the consistency and the interruptions. The strong seasons and the stalled ones. The fact that you can love running deeply and still step away for a while.

This is me laying the groundwork for what comes next — not with pressure, but with clarity.

The next post won’t be about “getting back to where I was.”

It’ll be about moving forward from where I am now.


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