More than a year of training, three World Marathon Majors in six months, and over $22,000 raised for two incredible causes.

Three Marathons. Three Stars. One Incredible Journey.

More than a year of training, three World Marathon Majors, and over $22,000 raised for two incredible causes.

I’m not sure I’ve fully processed it yet.

Three marathons. Six months. Three World Marathon Majors. Three stars added to my journey. And more than $22,000 raised for two charities that mean so much to me.

And just like that, this chapter is over.

When I look back at everything that went into these races, I realize that the marathons themselves were only a small part of the story. The real journey started long before I stood at the starting line.

More than a year of running

For more than a year, my life has revolved around marathon training. One training plan flowed into another, and before I knew it, I was preparing for the next big race while still recovering from the last.

Boston came first, running for the Dana-Farber Marathon Challenge. That experience reminded me how powerful it is to run for something bigger than yourself. The people, the stories, and the incredible generosity surrounding Dana-Farber made those miles mean so much more.

Then came Sydney.

Sydney wasn’t part of the original plan. It was an unexpected opportunity to run another World Marathon Major, and saying yes meant taking on a new challenge while already committed to Chicago. It meant traveling halfway around the world, adjusting to a different time zone, and lining up for a marathon without the preparation I would have ideally wanted.

It was challenging, beautiful, and an experience I’ll never forget.

And then there was Chicago — the final marathon of this extraordinary stretch. I ran to raise money for the Dave McGillivray Finish Strong Foundation, an organization helping children access sports, books, and communities that build confidence and show them what they’re capable of.

Three races. Three very different experiences. Three World Marathon Majors.

Three stars. And memories I’ll carry with me long after the medals are put away.

The miles nobody saw

As incredible as the race weekends were, they don’t tell the whole story.

Marathon training asks a lot of you. Not just physically, but from your family, your schedule, and your ability to keep showing up when you’d sometimes rather stay home.

For months, Saturdays often meant running at least a half marathon.

While other people were enjoying a relaxing morning, I was heading out for 13, 16, 18, or 20 miles. There were weekends when I missed time relaxing with my family because the training plan said it was time to run.

And unlike the big race days, those training runs didn’t come with road closures, aid stations, or cheering crowds.

They came with plenty of hills, familiar roads, weather that didn’t always cooperate, and a whole lot of time alone with my thoughts.

Sometimes I felt strong. Sometimes every mile felt like a negotiation with myself. Sometimes I had to find my own reasons to keep going.

Those quiet miles taught me just as much as the races did.

They taught me that consistency isn’t always exciting. That progress often happens when nobody is watching. And that doing something hard doesn’t always mean feeling strong while you’re doing it.

Sometimes it simply means putting one foot in front of the other until you’re done.

More than $22,000 for two incredible causes

Of all the things I accomplished over this year, raising more than $22,000 for charity is one of the things I’m proudest of.

Through the Dana-Farber Marathon Challenge, I helped raise money supporting cancer research. Through the Dave McGillivray Finish Strong Foundation, I raised money to help children access opportunities that encourage movement, learning, confidence, and community.

Two different organizations. Two important missions. One common thread: helping people have opportunities for a better future.

The money raised matters so much more than the distance I ran.

A marathon medal is a wonderful reminder of what you’ve accomplished. But knowing that the miles helped raise funds for something meaningful? That gives the journey a different kind of value.

And I didn’t do it alone.

To everyone who donated, purchased a raffle ticket, bought a calendar, participated in a fundraiser, shared a post, sent an encouraging message, or took a moment to cheer me on: thank you. Truly.

To the local businesses that donated prizes, the friends who helped spread the word, the people who showed up to events, and the community members who supported me in ways both big and small — you were part of this journey, too.

Some of your kind words arrived exactly when I needed them. Some donations surprised me. Some people supported multiple fundraisers. Others simply reminded me that they were following along and cheering me on.

Every bit of that support mattered.

You helped turn my running into something that reached far beyond me.

And that is something I’ll never take for granted.

I’m ready to run just because I want to

Here’s something I never thought I’d be quite so excited to say:

I’m looking forward to running without a plan.

No more checking the schedule to see how many miles I need to complete. No more planning the weekend around a long run. No more calculating whether I have enough time to fit in the miles before the rest of the day begins.

I want to run because it’s a beautiful morning. Because I feel like exploring a new route. Because I want some time to myself. Because I need to clear my head or simply enjoy moving.

I want to run three miles one day and five the next because that’s what I feel like doing — not because I need to hit a specific distance.

I want my weekends back. I want those slower mornings with my family. I want to enjoy running without every mile being part of a larger plan.

After more than a year of structured training, I am excited to regain the freedom of running.

And honestly, I’m excited to rediscover that feeling.

The feeling of running simply because I love it.

Will I run another race?

Most likely.

Will I run another marathon?

Possibly. And if I get the opportunity to run Tokyo, London, or Berlin, the answer is definitely yes.

I’m still dreaming about completing the Abbott World Marathon Majors, and the thought of standing at the starting line in another incredible city is exciting.

But I’m not in a hurry to commit to the next one.

For now, I’m happy to let my body recover, enjoy some unstructured miles, and appreciate everything this chapter has given me.

The finish line isn’t the end

When I started this journey, I knew marathon training would be hard. I knew there would be early mornings, long runs, tired legs, and sacrifices.

What I didn’t fully appreciate was how much the journey would give back to me.

The experiences. The places. The people. The confidence that comes from doing something difficult. The generosity of a community that rallied around two causes. And the reminder that running can be about so much more than a finish time.

Three marathons in six months. Three World Marathon Majors. Three stars. More than $22,000 raised.

I’m proud of those numbers. But I’m even more grateful for the people and purpose behind them.

To everyone who was part of this journey, whether you ran alongside me, supported me from home, donated, shared a post, or simply sent a kind word: thank you for helping make this chapter so meaningful.

For now, I’m putting the training plan away and heading out the door on my own terms.

No pace goal. No mileage requirement. No finish line waiting at the end.

Just me, my running shoes, and the freedom to enjoy the miles.

And if you happen to see me out on the roads, I’ll still be waving, smiling, and stopping to pet all the dogs.

Because some things about running will never change.

Here’s to the miles we’ve run, the lives we’ve helped, and whatever comes next.

Enjoy your runs.

— Sarah
Running Sarah