Just over a week ago I finished the Eugene Marathon, my ninth full marathon, in 2:46:10 — a minute off my personal best of 2:45:16 from the 2024 Portland Marathon. Looking back at the arc of these races, progress was never a straight line:
- 2009 BMO Marathon — 3:20:12
- 2010 BMO Marathon — 3:18:53
- 2014 BMO Marathon — 2:57:26
- 2016 BMO Marathon — 3:02:36
- 2017 BMO Marathon — 2:52:53
- 2018 Seattle Rock 'n' Roll Marathon — 2:51:20
- 2024 BMO Marathon — 2:52:50
- 2024 Portland Marathon — 2:45:16
- 2026 Eugene Marathon — 2:46:10
We train for months, sometimes years, hoping nutrition, pacing, mindset, and recovery all line up on race day. Sometimes they don't. As I've gotten more seasoned, I've stopped measuring success purely by the clock. What matters more is whether I gave everything I had throughout the process — it's a game of percentages, not perfection.
The race
I talked my sister Tiffany, her husband Bryan, and my training partner Patrick into racing Eugene with me. Patrick and I run similar paces and saw it as a shot at pushing each other toward a Berlin qualifier; meanwhile I was helping Tiffany chase a PB under her 3:48:13, and Bryan was aiming to beat 4:24.
My plan was to use Eugene as a build toward Ironman Nice two months later — in hindsight, stacking two big goals that close together wasn't the smartest call. Training was solid until four weeks out, when a hip flexor injury showed up during a long run and got worse with every session. Mileage dropped, confidence dropped with it. A week before the race I genuinely wasn't sure I should start.
On the drive down, Patrick and I talked strategy, but I had doubts — his training had been building while mine had been unraveling. Then we met up with Tiffany and Bryan, who were just relaxed and happy to be there, and something shifted. None of us are paid to do this. That's the whole point.
We went out faster than planned. Patrick pulled ahead around 5K; I let him go but kept him in sight, slowly closing the gap over the next 25K until I caught him fighting a calf cramp. I told him to hang on, we'd finish together. With 7K left, my own quads started cramping and my pace slipped. We did the math — it was going to be close. In the final kilometer we gave everything we had and still missed it by about a minute.
I was disappointed but also proud — we left everything out there. Back in the stadium, watching finishers come in, I was genuinely thrilled for Tiffany and Bryan, who smashed their PBs at 3:41:16 and 3:53:57.
What I'm taking from it
As a recovering "anxious overachiever," I used to draw a hard line between success and failure — anything short of a Berlin qualifier felt like coming up short. That mindset pushed me to show up, but it also quietly eroded my motivation, because if the outcome wasn't guaranteed, the risk of falling short felt too high.
On the drive home, Patrick asked if I was disappointed I hadn't PB'd or qualified. I'd narrowly missed the Berlin cutoff of 2:45 back in 2024, so it was a fair question. My first reaction was frustration. Then I caught myself: isn't uncertainty the whole point? If success were guaranteed, it wouldn't mean much. If failure were guaranteed, there'd be no reason to try. The value lives in the uncertain space between.
Everyone on that start line is carrying something — work, stress, fatigue. There's no such thing as perfect conditions. I didn't have a perfect race, but I executed the race I had in me that day, and that has to count for something. Success doesn't require perfect execution — it's about continuing to show up, to the start line, to the process, to the discomfort, in pursuit of getting better.
What's next
Bryan and I head to France in under two months for Ironman Nice — Mediterranean swim, 2,500m of climbing through the Alpes-Maritimes, and a run along the Promenade des Anglais. After that I'll shift back to the marathon for another shot at Berlin at the Toronto Marathon. Shortly after, I'm leaving to travel the world for a year.
Progress doesn't come from perfect days — it comes from refusing to stop. One step at a time is enough.
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