This season has been full of gratitude, growth, and quiet victories — both on and off the pavement. By the time you read this, I will have crossed the finish lines of two meaningful races: the Turkey Trot I ran with my oldest daughter, and the Blue and Gray Half Marathon, which I completed just yesterday on December 7th.

This year’s Turkey Trot was more than just a race. It was a celebration, a tradition, and a moment of connection I’ll always hold close. Running it with my daughter made it even more special. She is one of the biggest reasons I strive to grow — emotionally, academically, and professionally. Sharing those early-morning jitters, the laughter, the determination, and finally the pride of reaching the finish line together reminded me why these moments matter.

Races like this aren’t just about miles or pace. They’re about memories. They’re about showing our children what resilience looks like. They’re about joy, community, and carrying traditions forward in ways that feel both familiar and new.

And then came the Blue and Gray Half Marathon — now in its 25th year. Yesterday was my first time running it, and it lived up to everything I had heard. There is a different kind of magic in running through familiar streets, surrounded by neighbors, friends, and volunteers who cheer because they recognize you, or simply because they want to see you win.

Completing this race also marks a personal milestone:
My first time finishing two half marathons in one calendar year.

I showed up yesterday with more confidence, more experience, and a deeper appreciation for what my body can do. Running has been an anchor for me in seasons when I needed strength, clarity, and a sense of grounding. And crossing that finish line reminded me, yet again, that I am capable of so much more than I often give myself credit for.

Every early morning run, every long training day, every mile logged led to that moment — and I’m proud of myself for trusting the process and honoring the journey.

December feels like a month of finishing strong, celebrating progress, and stepping into the new year with purpose.

5 Things I Learned from Racing This Year

1. My body is stronger than I thought.

Every race — from 5Ks to half marathons — revealed strength I didn’t know I was building. Growth often shows up at the finish line, long after the work is done.

2. Showing up matters more than speed.

Some days felt effortless; others were a struggle. But every time I laced up and stepped outside, that was the real victory.

3. Running with family brings a different kind of joy.

Sharing the Turkey Trot with my daughter reminded me that movement can be a source of connection, laughter, and memories that last long after the race ends.

4. Community energy is its own kind of fuel.

From volunteers to cheering strangers, the support along the course gives you a lift you didn’t know you needed — and carries you farther than you expected.

5. Every race teaches you something about yourself.

Each finish line offered a lesson — patience, resilience, self-trust, gratitude. The miles helped me see who I’m becoming and what I’m capable of.

As I close out this year, I’m already looking ahead to my 2026 race season — a year I plan to challenge myself in new ways. My goal is to complete two half marathons, one full marathon, one 5K every month, and three 10Ks within the same calendar year. I already have a few races in mind, and right now I’m focused on creating a realistic financial plan to make it all possible. Running has become more than a hobby for me; it’s a commitment to my growth, my health, and the example I’m setting for my children. Stepping into 2026, I’m excited to continue building consistency, discipline, and joy — one race, one mile, one moment at a time.

🕊️ Reclaiming My Health: A Journey Back to Myself

For as long as I can remember, being active has been part of who I am. I loved the rhythm of movement — the way running clears my head, the way a good stretch makes me feel strong and centered. But somewhere along the way, life shifted.

Motherhood, work, and injury quietly rearranged my priorities. My days filled up with responsibilities and fatigue, and what used to be a daily ritual of self-care slowly became something I did “when I had time.” For years, that time never came.

Then, I lost my mother to complications related to diabetes.
Her passing shook me to my core. It forced me to look closely at my own health — not from a place of guilt or vanity, but from love. I wanted to live fully and care for myself the way she always wanted to.

🏃‍♀️ Finding My Way Back

In the months that followed, I made a promise to myself: to honor my body the way I once did, and to build a sustainable routine — not a punishment, but a lifestyle.

Now, I try to run at least three days a week. Those runs have become my moving meditations — a space to breathe, think, and heal. On alternating days, I lift weights, focusing on strength and endurance. Sundays are my rest days, a gentle reminder that recovery is just as sacred as effort.

Movement has become my anchor again — not a chore, but a celebration of what my body can do.

🍎 Nourishing from the Inside Out

For years, I had a complicated relationship with food. I often ate for comfort, for escape, or out of habit — rarely out of intention. But as I began to move more mindfully, I also started to eat that way.

I gave up meat and dairy and began to focus on foods that truly energize me — fruits, vegetables, grains, and plant-based proteins. I don’t chase perfection; I simply choose what makes me feel vibrant and alive.

Eating this way has taught me to listen — to my body, to my cravings, to my emotions. Food no longer feels like an enemy or a reward. It feels like care.

🌸 Rest as Resistance

One of the biggest lessons I’ve learned is that rest is not laziness — it’s necessary. Between work and motherhood, I’ve learned to carve out small pockets of peace. A long, relaxing bath three times a week has become my favorite ritual. It’s where I reflect, release tension, and reconnect with myself.

I also take time to journal before bed, even if it’s just a few lines. Writing helps me empty my thoughts and end the day with gratitude instead of worry. Some nights I write about what challenged me; other nights, I jot down what made me smile. Either way, it’s a gentle exhale before sleep — a way to honor my growth, my grief, and my progress.

If you’d like the same journal I use, you can check it out here: Spiral Notebook – 3 Pack A5 Ruled Journal

Those quiet moments — the bath, the pages, the silence — remind me that I’m more than the roles I play. I’m a whole person, deserving of rest, joy, and softness.

🌿 Moving Forward

This journey isn’t about perfection. It’s about consistency, grace, and gratitude. Each run, each meal, each journal entry, and each quiet bath is a reminder that I’m still here — choosing life, choosing strength, choosing myself.

If you’re reading this and trying to find your way back, start small. Take a walk. Drink more water. Eat something green. Write down what you’re grateful for. Rest when you need to. You don’t have to do it all — just begin.

💭 Reflection Prompt for Readers

What’s one small way you can honor your body or your peace this week?

(Leave a comment — I’d love to hear your journey.)

Tag: fitnessjourney

🏃🏾‍♀️ Thanksgiving Traditions: Our Health & Fitness Update