“You’re, like, in your marathon era!” my friend Vivian said at a girls dinner in early December of last year. Over wine and all-you-can-eat sushi, I was filling in my college friends on my latest personal project: my very first full marathon. To be clear, I’ve been a runner for years — on and off for the last 15, actually. I’ve run countless 5Ks and even completed a half marathon and, most recently, a 19-mile trail run. But, at 39, I was finally attempting the full 26.3-mile enchilada.
To be honest, it hadn’t really hit me that I was reaching the end of another decade. My 30th birthday seems like only yesterday — singing Madonna karaoke in a Carrie Bradshaw-inspired tutu and drinking wine straight from the bottle. I attribute this flashing time progression largely to COVID. Like so many, I feel like I sacrificed a good three years of 30-something experiences to long days on my couch ordering from Uber Eats and binge-watching Bridgerton.
For context, before the pandemic, I considered myself a pretty active, albeit inconsistent, person. With a super social, demanding work schedule, I went through spurts of fitness obsessions that bounced from HIIT, hot yoga, boxing, and even a brief spin phase. I’d obsessively stick to a modality for a few months then get bored and take long inactive breaks before jumping into my next focus. During the lockdown years, however, I lost all sense of motivation.
But, suddenly, the wakeup call I needed hit: my 39th birthday. Faced with a new batch of achy, out-of-shape muscles, a fresh crop of gray hair at the crown of my head, and chronic exhaustion I just couldn’t shake, I realized I couldn’t go down like this. I would not succumb to the traditional, dread-filled tropes of getting older — I would challenge them. And I would start by running the Los Angeles Marathon.
The Why
If I’m being completely honest, a big motivator behind my marathon decision was pure vanity. As we all know, bodies — and everything else — really start to change in your mid-30s and mine was no exception. My metabolism was slowing, my energy levels were dropping, and my body was getting, er, softer. It was starting to take its toll on my self-esteem. I wanted to enter my 40s not just in great shape, but in the best shape and physical stamina of my life. I wanted my new era to represent a stronger, more confident — and yes, hotter — version of myself. And I was willing to push myself to the limits to get there.
Sure, a consistent fitness routine and healthy eating habits — not to mention an airtight skin care routine — could make for an easy fix. But, for a person like me who has a hard time sticking to things when left to her own devices, I often need specific goals to work toward to keep me on track. This is especially true as it relates to health, as my demanding work schedule and long hours often lead me to cut corners and fall off the wagon in the name of convenience. So, I decided a 26.3-mile run was the perfect dual-purposed goal to kick my fitness routine into high gear and give me something other than work to occupy my brain and time. Because, you know, balance.
The Training
As I mentioned before, taking on a marathon journey all by myself would not have been wise, considering my history of inconsistent fitness and health habits. I knew I would need some coaching and accountability, so I brought in the big guns. I teamed up with activewear juggernaut Athleta (who sponsored me for this event and supplied me with all my fabulous gear and apparel) and coaching program Brave Body Project to help me carve out a realistic game plan that would set me up for success. How exactly did I measure success here? Well, for some marathon runners, a specific time goal is crucial. For this first-timer, I just wanted to focus on finishing strong and without injury.
For context, the Los Angeles Marathon took place on March 16, 2025. My official training began back in mid-October of 2024. From a physical standpoint, the runners’ legs of my 20s that I used to be able to activate and recover sans stretching and prep — I know, so bad — were not so easily charged or resilient at 39. Without a solid stretch and warmup routine before every run, I would start to ache and cramp pretty early into my session. Post-run care via foam-roller and massage gun also proved crucial to allow my muscles to recover quicker and alleviated soreness and tightness. If I skipped either step, I knew I would pay for it the next day and the next run. To help me prioritize these steps, my brilliant running coaches Amber Rees and Lindsey Clayton worked specific warmup routines into my weekly training plan and even incorporated cross-training workouts for non-running days to help strengthen my muscles and prevent injury.
While I was expecting the physical demands, it was the mental component that truly threw me for a loop during my training. I knew going into this that my marathon plan would be hard to balance with an equally demanding work schedule, which really kicked into high gear at the top of the new year thanks to award season, fashion month, and quite a bit of travel. There were days where I would have zero desire or energy to run, due to mental and physical exhaustion. I resented tying up my running shoes and throwing on my vest, which of course impacted my performance overall. On these days when my head wasn’t in the game, I’d find myself struggling to keep pace, sometimes eventually giving in to my fatigue altogether and walking the rest of my run.
These days would, of course, send me down a shame spiral, making me angry with myself for not being strong enough or disciplined enough to stick to my training plan. There were a few check-in calls with my coaches where I would tear up and admit to falling short in the carefully curated plan they’d created for me based on my believed fitness and endurance levels. Why couldn’t I just turn my body on when I needed to? Why couldn’t I simply summon the strength to get up and go like some of my fellow running buddies? What was wrong with me?
The truth is, I was really starting to feel my age, and I didn’t like it. But I couldn’t change the facts — my body was different, as were its needs. At 39, I needed more rest and recovery time and that’s what my brain and muscles were trying to communicate to me as I mindlessly burned the candle at both ends. My saintly coaches were invaluable during these dire moments, explaining that listening to my body was important, even if it meant taking a break. All plans can be adjusted and, at the end of the day, completing this race was something I should want to do for myself and not solely to prove something to anyone else.
Eventually, I submitted to this advice and allowed for a bit more down time in between my long runs. It surprisingly — or unsurprisingly — worked in my favor. I found that after a day or two of light to no activity, I had much more energy and strength conserved for more strenuous activity. This may seem obvious to many, but to an overachiever like me, it was something I had to struggle to accept and put into practice.
Finishing The Race
Before I knew it, the big race day was finally here. I had delusions of grandeur about the moment, thinking I’d have all this mileage clocked in leading up to the race, including a mock marathon (which you’re ideally supposed to run a few weeks prior to the main event). I admit my progress leading up to this point was nowhere near that, as my longest run thus far had been about 18 miles, and I no longer cared.
When all was said and done, my finishing time for my first marathon was just short of six hours — my goal was to finish in five and half. I didn’t care. These past five months had shifted my relationship with ambition and discipline in an interesting way. The all or nothing mentality I clung to in my 20s and 30s had evolved into something else. Something akin to balance, which allowed me to challenge myself but not break myself.
I’m all for nurturing ambition and new goals — it’s in my nature — but not at the expense of my well-being and mental health. Success doesn’t have to mean doing everything perfectly or being the best. It can mean showing up, putting in the work, and allowing room for setbacks, rest, and growth. The real test isn’t in flawless execution — it’s in perseverance. Sometimes, the greatest achievement is simply finishing… and finishing strong, on your own terms.
Reflecting back on this, I feel like my marathon journey teed me up nicely for my next decade. Originally I envisioned entering my 40s with a Jennifer Lopez-like body along with a supernatural will to work out, eat healthy, and be constantly productive. I can confidently say that is no longer the goal. At this point, I just want to focus on conserving my happiness and health the best I can, checking comparisons at the door, and most importantly, be gentler with myself. If that means working out twice a week instead of five, ordering the occasional greasy takeout, and designating a Saturday to lounging on my couch with my dog, so be it. I have nothing to prove at this point in my life and my next chapter will certainly reflect it.
