Hey, you.

Yes, I’m talking to you.

You’re training for your first marathon, and I can feel the tension you’re carrying.

You’re worried you won’t be able to do it. You’re worried you haven’t trained hard enough. You’re obsessing over the fuel, the gear, the weather, the shoes.

You’re worried your body won’t hold up. That you didn’t log enough miles. That you missed too many long runs. Life kept getting in the way, and now you’re beating yourself up for it. You’re afraid of what’s ahead.

You’re full of doubt about why you signed up in the first place. You wonder if you should just bail and try again another time. Or maybe never try at all. Maybe you’re just not meant for the full distance. Maybe this was a fever dream — best left to people with more experience, more training, more drive.

You wonder if your body will give out. If your mind will give out.

You’re standing at the edge of something hard and unknown.

I know all of this about you, because I am you.

And I’m here to tell you:

Take a deep breath.You’re going to be amazing.

You’re going to run that race. You’re going to face the hard parts. You’ll want to cry on that final stretch. You’ll want to quit at mile 19, but you’ll walk until you can run again. You’ll see your family, your friends, your coach, your neighbors, your whole city — all cheering you on. All believing in you. All knowing that you can do this.

You’ll feel their energy in your chest. And you’ll feel your own.

There will be a moment when your heart gently tells your brain to step aside — it’s done its job getting you here, but now it’s the heart’s turn.

It will whisper:Yes, you can.

Then louder:Yes, you can.

Then a roar:YES. YOU. CAN.

And you’ll push.

Harder than you ever thought possible.

You’ll be amazed your legs are still moving.

That your muscles are still working.

That your thoughts are quiet.

That something deeper has taken over.

You’ll tap into a part of yourself you didn’t know existed.

You’ll see the finish line.You’ll raise your arms.You’ll cross it.And you’ll cry.

You won’t believe you did it. But you did.

Your phone will blow up.

Family. Friends.

They were tracking you the whole way. Not just during the race — during the training, too. The early mornings. The skipped trips. The hard days.

They always knew you could do it.

But you had to find out for yourself.

And you did.

You found out you can do hard things.

You’ll be on the couch.

Legs sore.

Heart full.

Post-race glow in full effect.

And you’ll ask yourself one important, life-changing, epic question:

What else can I do?

Are you training for a race? Or have you run one and remember how it felt? Tell me below. I’d love to hear your story. Or send this to someone who needs it.