Some days in training feel big and bold. Others are made up of smaller moments that quietly test your commitment.
I laced up a brand-new pair of sneakers yesterday—the kind that instantly make you want to move. There’s something motivating about fresh shoes: the promise of miles ahead, the clean slate, the reminder that this journey is still unfolding. Slipping them on felt like a small spark of excitement before the work began.
That work came in the form of hill repeats. Not glamorous, not easy, and definitely humbling. Each climb demanded focus and grit, legs burning, lungs working overtime, and that familiar internal negotiation of just one more. Hills have a way of stripping things down to effort and determination, and today they did exactly that. Step by step, repeat by repeat, the miles added up.
Today, the rain had settled in, the wind picked up, and suddenly the idea of staying dry felt laughable. But out I went with my two pups anyway. The walk was blustery, soggy, and far from comfortable, yet oddly grounding. Sometimes showing up doesn’t look strong or fast—it just looks like putting on a jacket and going anyway.
Between new sneakers, challenging hills, and a rainy, wind-blown dog walk, these last few days reminded me that progress doesn’t always come from perfect conditions. It comes from consistency, from finding joy in small wins, and from choosing to move—even when the weather, the terrain, or your legs push back.
One foot in front of the other. Every time.