I knew training for a marathon would be hard. But I thought the hard parts would be consistently working out six days a week, motivating myself for the early workouts and completing long runs. Ironically, the greatest challenge I’ve suffered is the desperate yearning to run when I am physically unable.

I anticipated pain — sore muscles, chafed skin, cramps and post-long-run fatigue — but two injuries were certainly not in my expectations for how marathon training would go. That being said, I’ve felt pretty defeated the past month or so, and I’ve had to accept some pretty hard truths.

My most repeated sentence for the past two weeks has been, “I swear to god if I can’t finish this marathon and did all this training for nothing I will be so pissed.” Naturally, for the sake of gentle support and encouragement, those I vented to have responded with, “Jess come on, it’s not all for nothing.” I would be lying if I said I didn’t roll my eyes behind their backs — they don’t understand and how could they? They haven’t been through what I have. 

Begrudgingly, I now admit they were right. I’m currently in a position where I have to accept that failing the Eugene marathon is a very likely outcome. My injuries have almost completely healed and I’m back to running, but I’m nowhere near where I should be in training. Today, I ran 12 miles, a huge success in the context of rehab, but also a huge failure when considering the 18-mile run I originally had planned for this week. So with the finish line fading from sight, I’ve had to ask myself, was it all for nothing? 

No. Of course, it wasn’t. Even if I can’t run a marathon, I’ve still run farther and more frequently in the past three months than I ever thought possible. I learned just how much discipline I’m capable of and I completely changed my lifestyle (for the better). I’ve mentioned several times how much I’ve sacrificed to make my training block possible. But I’m now realizing, the things I gave up were never worth holding on to.

The biggest thing I gave up for running was partying. I already wrote a whole column about my decision to stop drinking for marathon training, so I’ll keep this brief. Being sober has changed my life entirely. It’s completely fixed my sleep schedule, it’s reduced my anxiety by a notable amount and it’s redefined how I view fun, friendships and fulfillment. I can honestly say that giving up alcohol was the best decision I’ve ever made, and I don’t know if I would have ever come to this realization without running. 

Aside from sobriety, running has largely repaired my relationship with food and my body. It’s given me energy, joy and renewed motivation for life. It’s become a gateway into discovering new hobbies that I love (swimming and hopefully soon biking). It’s given me this column, which has been fun and rewarding as hell. But most importantly, it’s given me a passion.

Since quitting competitive ski racing when I was 16, I’ve felt a little lost. (In case you missed this chapter of my story, I ski-raced for eight years. It was really cool, and it took up a lot of my time…moving on). Skiing was my whole world, and after I quit, I didn’t know who I was without a sport to define my identity. Being a writer became my new personality in the absence of skiing, but it wasn’t enough, so I got super into weight-lifting on the side. As I’ve explained before, I had an extremely toxic relationship with lifting — it was less of a sport and more of an appearance-focused obsession. 
Since committing myself to running, I’ve become an athlete again for the first time in five years and it feels damn good (yes, I am calling myself an athlete, and I feel good about this assessment so please don’t tease me). I might not be on a team or have a coach and fancy UO-branded gear, but the delusion of pretending I’m a student-athlete has made this whole process a lot of fun. I feel like I belong to an athletic community again, and meeting other runners is always a treat. I’m so proud to finally be able to relate to the people I once envied and didn’t understand. 

So no, I don’t feel like the past 13 weeks of my life have been all for nothing. Plus, I have absolutely no idea what the future has in store for me. I’m six weeks out from the race. In the past six weeks I have suffered and recovered from TWO injuries, so from where I stand, six weeks is an eternity. I won’t make any promises — to you or myself — but I think I might just be able to pull it off. 

If I’ve learned anything, it’s how to not give up. I persevered through the rehab of my two injuries like a champ, and I’m sure as hell not quitting now. I will continue with my training plan and attempt to build up enough mileage to feel confident about finishing on race day. If all goes smoothly, I will run 16 miles next weekend, 18-20 the following, 16 the weekend after that and 22 before my two-week taper starts. 

Since my running confidence has been obliterated by injury, this build feels incredibly daunting. But I’m just going to take it one step at a time and see where I end up. If not the Eugene Marathon, there are other races in the weeks after that I might consider signing up for. After all, every journey comes with a few twists and turns. So I’m saying if not now, eventually.