Growing up, I was the least sporty person you could imagine. Physical education classes were more of an exercise in avoiding embarrassment than building fitness. I wasn’t the fastest, the strongest, or the most coordinated. But here I am today, sharing the story of how I completed – and won – a grueling 268-mile race. It’s a journey that’s as much about mental endurance as it is about physical strength.
My foray into ultra-running didn’t happen overnight. I stumbled upon it during a transitional period in my life, when I was searching for something meaningful to channel my energy into. I started small, with 5k jogs that felt more like trudges. I had no idea how to train properly, and I certainly wasn’t thinking about races. But each step I took sparked something within me: a desire to push my limits, even if those limits seemed modest at the time.
Over the years, I began setting small but incremental goals. A 10k turned into a half marathon, then a marathon. Each finish line brought not just pride but a deep curiosity about how far I could go. I wasn’t a natural athlete, but I learned to work with what I had: determination, discipline, and a willingness to embrace discomfort.
The pivotal moment came when I discovered the world of ultra-running – races that take you far beyond the traditional marathon distance. It was intimidating but exhilarating. When I signed up for the 268-mile race, I was met with incredulity. Friends and family questioned whether I had lost my mind. After all, I wasn’t “sporty.” What business did I have attempting such a feat?
Training for an ultra-distance event is as much about building mental resilience as it is about physical preparation. My days were a mix of long runs, strength training, and learning how to fuel my body for endurance. But the real growth came in the moments when I wanted to quit – when exhaustion or self-doubt crept in. I had to develop an inner dialogue that kept me moving, one step at a time.
When race day arrived, I wasn’t thinking about winning. My goal was simple: finish. But as the miles ticked by, I found myself in the flow. I embraced the pain, leaned into the challenge, and stayed present in the moment. By the time I crossed the finish line as the winner, I was overwhelmed with disbelief and pride.
This experience taught me that being “sporty” isn’t about natural talent; it’s about showing up, giving your all, and defying expectations – even your own.