Not From Scratch

 

The last time I wrote here, I talked about tired legs surprising me.

What I didn’t know then was that life was about to completely take over my training.

Tax season happened.
Business happened.
Life happened.

And somewhere in the middle of balancing clients, deadlines, kids, businesses, stress, exhaustion, and everything else that comes with being an adult trying to do all the things…running quietly disappeared.

Not intentionally.

I didn’t officially quit training. I didn’t decide I was done with marathon goals. I just kept telling myself I’d start again “next week.”

Then suddenly weeks turned into months.

And honestly, that messes with your head more than your legs.

When you’ve been a runner for a long time, especially when running has been part of your identity, it’s hard to explain the guilt that comes with stopping. You still think like a runner. You still want the goals. You still follow races and training plans and motivational posts.

But you’re not actually running.

At least not consistently.

For a while, I let that make me feel like I was failing.

But lately I’ve started looking at it differently.

Sometimes survival mode seasons are not building seasons.

Sometimes your focus has to shift temporarily so you can handle the responsibilities in front of you. And this tax season required every ounce of energy I had.

The important thing is this:

I’m still here.

And I’m starting again.

Not from scratch — from experience.

That matters.

The goal now is the Manchester City Marathon on November 8, 2026.

New race. New focus. New mindset.

This training cycle feels different already because I’m not chasing perfection anymore. I’m chasing consistency. I’m chasing progress. I’m chasing the version of myself that feels strongest mentally, not just physically.

The first run back was actually better than I expected.

Two miles.
Run/walk intervals.
Hot and humid Kentucky morning.

But somewhere during that run, I remembered something important:

I still have a runner in me.

The pace wasn’t elite. The mileage wasn’t impressive. But after months of barely training at all, it felt good to move again. Good to get outside before the world fully woke up. Good to remember that starting over doesn’t mean starting from zero.

Sometimes the hardest part isn’t the running itself.

It’s believing you can come back after stepping away.

Today reminded me that maybe I’m closer than I thought.

I think a lot of busy adults — especially moms, business owners, caregivers, and people carrying heavy mental loads — quietly struggle with this exact thing.

We assume if we can’t train perfectly, we shouldn’t train at all.

But maybe the real win is refusing to fully give up.

Maybe the real victory is returning.

So this is me returning.

To running.
To goals.
To this blog.
To myself a little bit.

And this time, the focus isn’t just finishing a marathon.

It’s building a life where I don’t disappear from my own priorities every time life gets busy.

We’re starting again.

And that counts too.