A few weeks ago, I ran the Santa Rosa Full Marathon — my first in more than ten years.

I remembered the pain of my previous four marathons vividly. Each one was a test of endurance, willpower, and mental fortitude. And now, at 38, I expected this one to hurt even more.

I’ve never been someone who loves running. I don’t train the way serious runners do. But there’s something about physical challenges — the simplicity, the clarity — that draws me in. They strip life down to a single truth: one step at a time.

The first six miles felt surprisingly good. My legs moved easily. My breath found rhythm. I even allowed myself to believe, maybe this won’t be so bad.‍

Then came mile 10.

My calves started to cramp. The distance left — sixteen more miles — suddenly felt impossible. My heart sank. Panic crept in. My mind went dark, whispering the familiar doubts:

You can’t do this. You’re not trained enough. You’re too old for this.

The finish line felt a lifetime away.

And then — almost by accident — I looked to my side. There was a mile marker. I turned my head back and saw the long stretch of road behind me. My starting point was so far away I could barely even see it anymore.

That small glance changed everything.

I realized how far I’d already come. Ten miles. Ten miles of effort, discipline, and resilience. My focus had been trapped on what was ahead — the endless unknown — but looking back gave me perspective, and perspective gave me strength.

My legs were still tight, but my mind was free again. I straightened up, reset my focus, and just kept going. One step, one mile at a time.

Just under two hours later, I crossed the finish line — exhausted, aching, and completely alive.

Since that day, I’ve been thinking about how often we get lost staring at how far we still have to go — in work, in relationships, in life. We see the distance, and we forget the ground we’ve already covered.

Progress hides in plain sight. It’s easy to overlook because it accumulates slowly, quietly, one decision, one effort, one day at a time.

So when the road ahead feels overwhelming, just pause — and look back. You’ll see how far you’ve come. You’ll remember what you’ve already endured. And that memory can fuel you to keep moving forward.

Because when your head says you’ve got nothing left, your heart knows there’s always more in the tank — another 50%, another 70%, if you just keep going.

Key Takeaway: When the journey ahead feels impossible, take a moment to look back. Perspective transforms fatigue into fuel. You’ve already come so far — and that means you can go even farther.

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