A rough marathon only strengthened my love of running.

I knew by mile sixteen of the OC marathon here in Southern California that for the first time in several years, my ego would have to suffer, in addition to my body. There was no longer a chance to PR, and that was my goal — to improve over my previous 2.43 marathon earlier in the year. I don’t sign up for a race unless I believe I have a shot at setting my personal best time. At some point, this mindset will have to shift, but for now, it defines my approach to racing. The first half of the marathon went okay, strong wind notwithstanding.

At mile sixteen, my body started to feel like it had already crossed the twenty-two-mile mark. I struggled both mentally and physically. I thought I had — and maybe I did — the required fitness to run my fastest marathon yet. The hard work had been put in, without compromises. But now I knew that all that near-perfect training was for nothing in terms of my ability to hit my goal in this race. Many hundreds of miles, numerous twenty-plus milers on the weekends — none of it would culminate in a stellar marathon. My pace slowed down to a level I couldn’t imagine. I was being overtaken again and again.

I finished in 2 hours, 46 minutes, and 49 seconds. It was my third-best marathon but a far cry from my target of 2.42.

I wrote a detailed note about the race on Substack.

The best thing about the race?

Surrendering to a kind of defeat, but not quitting, in those final ten miles. It…