How a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity convinced me to run another marathon six weeks before race day.
I had a plan.
Chicago was the plan.
I was committed to running the Chicago Marathon and had already started thinking about the training, the fundraising, the logistics, and everything that comes with preparing for another marathon.
Then Sydney happened.
And suddenly, I had a decision to make.
It started with an application
Team Abbott was looking for runners who had experienced a medical journey to apply for bibs to one of the Abbott World Marathon Majors.
I was immediately intrigued.
I had dreamed about running an international marathon, and Australia had been on my travel list for as long as I can remember. So when I saw the opportunity to apply, I thought, Why not?
I submitted an application sharing a little bit of my story.
About discovering my Vestibular Schwannoma.
About brain surgery.
About recovery.
But more importantly, I wrote about what happened afterward.
I had gone through a huge life event that changed things I had taken for granted. I knew I couldn’t control everything that had happened to me, but I could decide what I wanted to do next.
For me, that meant challenging myself.
Finding my calm.
Finding my strength.
Finding my sense of self again.
And somewhere along the way, running became the place where I found all of those things.
So I hit submit.
And then I went on with my life.
And then I got the email.
I was selected.
My first reaction?
Panic.
Wait… am I actually going to run a marathon in six weeks?!
Was I ready?
Could my body handle another marathon?
Could I ask my girls to get on a plane for 15 hours?
Was this completely crazy?
Part of me thought I should pass.
Chicago was already on the calendar. I had committed to it. There was a plan.
But another part of me really, really wanted to say yes.
Because how often do you get the opportunity to run a marathon on the other side of the world?
How often does a dream you’ve had for years suddenly become possible?
Thankfully, I have a husband who is very good at reminding me when I’m overthinking something.
His response was basically:
“This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.”
So we started looking at flights.
Then Airbnbs.
Then schedules.
Then school.
Then logistics.
Then more logistics.
And voilà!
Okay… it was absolutely not that simple or magical. 😂
But eventually, we figured it out.
We were going to Sydney.
Six weeks later, I was standing at the start line.
Sydney was tough.
Really tough.
And I don’t say that as a criticism of the race. I say it because I wasn’t nearly as prepared for Sydney as I had been for Boston.
Boston was different.
Boston was home.
I had support every few miles. I knew the course. I had run portions of it multiple times. I knew where the hills were coming. I had my gear, my routines, my favorite foods, and a huge support system through the Dana-Farber Marathon Challenge community.
I had people cheering for me everywhere.
Sydney?
Sydney was on the other side of the world.
I was adjusting to the time difference. I was figuring out kilometers. The weather was warmer than I expected. I didn’t have months of preparation behind me.
And there was the course itself.
The in-and-back sections were mentally challenging.
There’s something uniquely cruel about seeing runners who are eight miles ahead of you coming back in the opposite direction.
You think:
I’ve GOT THIS!
And then you see someone who is almost finished and suddenly your brain says:
Holy crow. They’re almost done.
That takes a toll.
And then there was the weather.
Apparently, my definition of “winter in Australia” needed some work.
Somewhere around the middle of the race, my brain started negotiating.
This is so long.
How many miles is that?
Wait… kilometers.
How many kilometers is that in miles?
Why is it so warm?
How much farther?
My brain was tired.
And then came one of my favorite moments of the entire race.
A fellow runner looked over at me and said something along the lines of:
“I have a credit card and there is a McDonald’s over there. Think we should just go?”
I don’t think he knows how much that moment meant to me.
It made me laugh.
And somehow, that little interaction broke the cycle my brain had been stuck in.
For a moment, I wasn’t calculating kilometers.
I wasn’t thinking about how far I had left.
I wasn’t wondering whether I was ready.
I was just laughing with another runner who was also tired and questioning all of his life choices.
And that is one of the things I love most about running.
The running community.
We may be strangers, but we understand each other.
We know what it feels like to question why we’re doing this.
We know what it feels like when our legs are tired and the finish line feels impossibly far away.
And sometimes all it takes is one person making a ridiculous joke at exactly the right moment to remind you that you’re not alone.
I wish I had gotten his name.
I wish I remembered his bib number.
Because I would absolutely love to thank him.
And somehow, I made it.
I finished my first international marathon.
I got to experience Sydney in a way I never could have from a car or a tour bus.
I saw the crowds.
I saw the incredible energy along the course.
I experienced the party stops.
I ran alongside people from all over the world.
And I got to check Australia off my travel list while doing something that, just a few years ago, I wasn’t sure I’d ever be able to do again.
Was Sydney the marathon I felt most prepared for?
Absolutely not.
Was it the easiest?
Definitely not.
But I’m so glad I said yes.
My husband was right.
It was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.
And maybe that’s the biggest lesson Sydney gave me.
Sometimes we wait for the perfect time.
For the perfect training cycle.
For the perfect schedule.
For everything to line up.
But sometimes the opportunity comes when the timing is completely inconvenient.
Sometimes you have to look at the plan you’ve already made and decide whether you’re willing to make room for something unexpected.
Sydney wasn’t part of my plan.
But it became part of my story.
And I’m pretty grateful I said yes.
Life doesn’t always follow the training plan.
Sometimes you just have to run with it.
