When Things Don’t Go Perfectly (and You Still Show Up Anyway)
Resetting with some sand and sea
A reflection on confidence, self-trust, and holding ambition through life’s interruptions.
Even when training doesn’t go perfectly, you can reconnect with the strength you’ve built over months—and decades—of work, both on the road and in life.
This post is part of my CIM buildup (four weeks out this weekend), but it’s also about something much bigger: how we hold confidence through life’s setbacks. Whether you’re training for a race or navigating your own version of a tough stretch, this is about trusting what’s already within you—and finding steadiness when things feel uncertain.
Another quiet shakeout run
I did my shakeout run on the course this morning with my husband—just like we’ve done before so many races over the years. As always, he is my number one supporter, believing in my abilities far more than I ever will. He was giving me tips the way he always does: “tuck in behind someone when it gets windy”, “push up this hill then relax”, “flow here”. His words and guidance felt familiar and comforting, like muscle memory for my mind as much as my body. Waves crashed against the rocks, pelicans glided overhead, and the familiar smell of saltwater filled the air. Our 30-minute jog reminded me that I’ve done this so many times before—that my body knows how. The course is beautiful, and I tapped into that deep gratitude of just being here—to run, to test myself, to be in this place, to spend a quiet weekend with Mike away from all the distractions of life. It will be hard, yes. But I’ve trained for hard.
When Plans Don’t Go Perfectly
This weekend was supposed to be my tune-up race—the half-marathon, four weeks out from CIM—where I could check in on my training and see if my marathon goal still made sense. As I wrote in my last post, those plans were hijacked when I came down with a nasty flu. The past two weeks didn’t unfold as planned: I got incredibly sick, had to reshuffle work, and juggle all the moving pieces of parenting while trying to hold on to training. Sleep was scarce, work demands stayed high, and family life remained as rich and full as ever. This isn’t a complaint—it’s the reality (and gift) of a full life. There’s that familiar feeling of trying to keep everything from falling apart—showing up for the people who need you most, staying on top of all the things, and still carving out space to do this thing that matters deeply to you, too.
And yet—here I am. Still here. Showing up. Still believing that big things are possible.
Holding Goals with Curiosity and Ambition
I’m not lowering my goals; I’m just holding them a little differently. I want to show up with both ambition and curiosity—to run hard and get the most out of myself for the day, while also staying open to what’s here, right now.
The good news that I have had to remind myself of lately: fitness doesn’t disappear in just a couple of weeks. Research shows that the endurance gains you’ve built over months of consistent training stick around for at least 10–14 days, and often longer. Even with a short break, your body still remembers how to run strong—it’s more often your confidence that needs a little firming up. Life stress can make you feel heavier or slower, but it doesn’t erase the strength and resilience you’ve built. The key is noticing it and gently setting it aside for the moment—taking a deep breath, letting the noise wait, and focusing on what’s in front of you: the next step, your breath, the flow of your footsteps.
My Race-Day Anchors
Here’s what I’m holding onto heading into race day:
Zoom out. One race is just a single chapter in a bigger story.
Zoom in. Feel the rhythm of my stride, my breath, my feet on the road, the waves crashing against the rocks. Stay fully present, even if doubt creeps in.
Lean on routines. Pre-race strides, a short warm-up, familiar cues—they remind me my body and mind know the work.
Stay process-focused. Control effort, mindset, and courage. The rest is out of my hands.
Remember the evidence. I’ve faced sickness, long training blocks, and early-morning hilly miles. That grit and focus—I can bring it with me.
Let my goal excite me. Let it open me up, fuel me, and remind me why I do this.
Trusting the Work
I’ll line up this weekend knowing the work is there, trusting the strength, fitness, and resilience I’ve built over months and years. Step by step, mile by mile, I’ll meet whatever the day brings, staying fully present and focused. When it gets hard, I’ll remember that I can hang in there—because I’ve done this work before. Belief isn’t blind optimism; it’s trusting what you’ve already proven to yourself. My goal excites me, my training has prepared me, and I will show up ready to embrace the challenge, thankful for the chance to test myself.
Reflection
In running and in life, belief isn’t about hoping everything goes perfectly—it’s about remembering that you’ve already built what you need to meet the moment. Whether you’re chasing a goal, returning from a setback, or navigating uncertainty, trust that the strength you’ve cultivated will rise to meet you when you need it most.
