I was about four miles in, blasting Olivia Rodrigo in my headphones, and I began to sob. ![]() Photo credit to my cute ass husband who came to support…and supported me every day for nine months of this journey. And on Thanksgiving morning, I reached my goal. Through the blood blisters and the soreness, I kept going. It was challenging myself to run the four miles straight down to Coney Island at the beginning of October, then treating myself to a big iced coffee and a donut in celebration. It was jogging through the sweaty months of summer, working myself up to three miles on a particularly sticky day in July. ![]() The cold mornings of waking up, putting on my running shoes, and forcing myself to do the run-even if it meant I needed to walk every quarter mile when I started. Going from not running at all for eight years to getting to a point where I could run five miles straight for a turkey trot. It was training for this race these past nine months that have been the challenge. It wasn’t exactly the run itself-although five miles was certainly no easy feat. ![]() It was one of the hardest things I’ve ever done in my entire life. This Thanksgiving I woke up, ate an everything bagel with cream cheese, then ran five miles.
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