My foot caught on a lip of uneven concrete, and before I could even comprehend what was happening, I was down.

There is a specific, jarring shock to falling at forty-four. It’s not quite like falling as a kid, which was already bad for me; it’s a heavy, bone-rattling impact that leaves you winded on the side of a busy road, traffic blurring past while you check for blood and broken pride. I sat there for quite some time, brushing grit off my palms, wondering why I do this at all.

I had honestly forgotten how hard marathon training is. Much like I had forgotten childbirth or those first blurred months with a newborn, your brain protects you by scrubbing the intensity from your memory. We forget the bone-deep exhaustion until we’re back in the thick of it. One day, this will be a story I tell. Right now, it’s just something I’m trying to survive.

Take the weekend before last: back-to-back half marathons. Saturday was fine, but Sunday was a lesson in humility. Eight kilometres in, my legs already felt like they were made of lead. I might have walked more than I intended to, but I didn’t stop. I finished what I started, and I am proud of that.

The fall on the pavement was just the universe’s way of doubling down on the lesson. It’s a reminder that “trying” isn’t a clean, linear path. It’s messy. It’s painful. And sometimes it looks like a grown woman picking herself up off the pavement on a Thursday morning. Training doesn’t just test your heart rate; it tests your willingness to be humbled — and your resolve to get back up. Literally.

I wouldn’t trade this season for an easier one, though. Even if back-to-back half marathons are difficult, and falling is sore. The easy seasons don’t leave you with much to say. This one? It’s going to be a hell of a story.

What does “keep trying” look like in your life right now?

Less than three weeks until 2026’s first marathon. Let’s go.

#MarathonTraining #KeepTrying #WomensRunning #Resilience #HardSeasons