I ran a marathon a year after brain surgery
Let’s journey together down the literal road to recovery.
After the prompting of my buddy Chris, I signed up for the Honolulu Marathon in September — back when December seemed a reasonable amount of time away.
Three months may seem short but in reality, I’ve been training for this race for a year. I’ve also been writing and rewriting this draft almost longer than I took training for the dang thing, so here — pressing publish and calling it a day.
One year before race day, my neurosurgeon cleared me to start lifting weights over 10 pounds. It was three months post-brain surgery and I was finally able to grasp a barbell, bend over, and raise my heart rate for more than a few minutes at a time.
Then one year after that call, I crossed the line of my first marathon.
And I loved every step of it.
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After a summer of moving and road-tripping to our new home in Oahu, I was trying to adjust to working early morning hours and create my new life in a place that once felt like home.
Training for a race seemed like the ideal anchor for my days. While crafting a new routine, this goal kept me active and moving in some capacity daily — a necessity for keeping my mind and body functioning optimally.
I typically ran three times a week with one long run on the weekends and split the rest of my days with treadmill incline walks, yoga, foam rolling, and rest.
My goal? Finish without injury. Not run every mile or go for XX time. Fighting recovering perfectionist and over-performance tendencies, this wasn’t the easiest thing to do. It required me to reassess daily and be honest when I needed to pull back or press pause, two lessons I can’t seem to escape (still) and may never.
Weekend long runs became my sacred space, trotting through a waking-up Waikiki and still-peaceful Kapiolani Park, taking in the sunrise from Diamond Head, and smiling at the familiar runner faces I’d begun to see training run after run.
When choosing a word to describe your marathon training experience, gentleness is not one typically reached for.
But it’s my word.
And when I crossed the finish line after running 26.2 miles during the Honolulu Marathon on Sunday, December 10th, it was gentleness that got me there.
Not striving. Not fighting. Not punishing. Not intensity.
During my race, I felt present. I was in it with my full self. Buoyed by the gooey overwhelming pride for myself and for everyone around me. Wall-hitting and injury-free (minus the loss of two toenails).
My dear friend Adrienne and sister Kendall both flew out to cheer me on, and Joshua’s fully-charged Airpods came in handy at mile 22 when mine died at mile 14. And of course, running the first 17 miles side-by-side with my training partner Chris, plus the sight of my bestie Liv and her sweet boy at mile 17 gave me another jolt to keep going.
Preparing for this race propelled a reconnection between me and my body, a calling back of the scattered pieces still trying to feel safe again after facing their mortality and a newly altered worldview — a journey I’m very much in the thick of.
Learning how to train gently requires a deeper knowing — rather than pushing myself into shape or punishing myself for not being where I *thought* I was supposed to be, it’s about working with who I am now and where I am now. Patience, love, and grace.
What’s next? I’ll be continuing my running streak at the Hapalua Half Marathon in Honolulu on April 14. All the love and mahalos to everyone who’s been cheering me on. You’re with me every step of the way.