Training For My First Marathon Taught Me That Sometimes It’s OK to Quit

“I want to run a marathon,” I told my editor in late July — about three months away from the actual race. She stared back at me through her laptop, presumably assessing whether I was of sound mind. “I mean . . . if you really want to,” she eventually responded.

It’s not that I thought running a marathon would be easy. But when Every Woman’s Marathon approached me about participating in the inaugural race, it seemed like the perfect opportunity to give it my best shot. Extended race times? Check. A flat terrain for racing? Check. And perhaps most importantly: an accessible, non-judgmental environment specifically curated with women in mind? Check, check, and check.

Every Woman’s Marathon sounds like a sort of safe haven for anyone looking to brave those 26.2 miles, which probably explains why 40 percent of the 7,500 participants are first-time marathoners. But that doesn’t make the distance any less challenging — especially for a beginner in a chronically-ill body. More dedicated runners know that training for a marathon in three months (especially as a beginner) is not only dangerous, but damn near impossible. I, however, was running off of pure delusion — literally.

Having survived two strokes and recently undergone surgery to remove my right eye, I was already familiar with the fortitude of the human body. But after spending so much of my time sick and bedridden, the idea of reclaiming my strength by reaching such an extreme goal quickly turned into an obsession. Outsiders looking in may already realize I was destined to fail (which is more than I can say for myself). But having already committed to three months of marathon training, here’s what I learned in the process.

Alysha Flynn, is a road marathoner, trail ultra runner, and running coach with over 25 years of running experience and 15 years of coaching expertise.

Kristy Baumann, RD, LD, is a marathoner, registered dietitian, and marathon nutritionist.

I quickly learned that marathon training is surprisingly expensive. In addition to any marathon fees (registration, travel, lodging, etc.), I also found myself spending on a training plan through the Runna app ($18 a month), along with running apps like Strava ($80 a year), which track your distance, speed, and show you running routes in your area. On top of those costs, I invested in equipment like running shoes, compression socks, and an armband to hold my phone in place. I knew that nutrition was important for runners, but given that I was so new to running, I approached that element of my training with an “I’ll cross that bridge when I get to it” type attitude, focusing mostly on hitting my protein goals and staying hydrated in the desert heat. More on that in a bit.

I started training the morning of Aug. 1 in my hometown of Tucson, AZ. That day was a cool 95 degrees, and even by 7 a.m., the sun was already starting to beat down. “At least it’s a dry heat,” some might say, to which I’d respond, “Do you enjoy running in a sauna?” I chose a familiar stretch of desert as my runway, lacing up my shoes with all the confidence in the world. I started slow and steady down the pavement, expecting to clock in a couple of comfortable miles before work . . . and immediately realized I’d made a grave mistake.

There’s something so satisfying about seeing someone get humbled, until it’s happening to you. “Actually wtf was that,” I wrote in my day one notes. “Didn’t even make it a mile, dripping sweat, this is impossible.” But while discouraged, I wasn’t ready to give up just yet. For my next run, I stuck closer to home, running laps around my apartment complex, and waking up earlier in an effort to avoid the heat. Miraculously, I got my first mile down, and a glimmer of hope returned. “Hard but not impossible,” I wrote. Here’s a look at the rest of my training month-by-month.

It was hard for me to enjoy running in the first few weeks, because all I could focus on was how impossible a marathon would be. “Cannot imagine 26 of these, I kinda wanna throw up,” I wrote in my week one notes. I also documented the stress I felt when life got in the way of my training — from travel, to chronic illness flare ups. Interestingly, I did notice that running seemed to encourage healthier habits across all areas of my life. I went to bed and woke up earlier, I ate more mindfully, and I carved out more time for self-care. If only I could learn to hate it a little less. “I am experiencing the opposite of a runner’s high. I am a runner’s low,” I wrote on the last day of August. Hopefully September would be different.

“Has running ever sent someone to the ER?” I asked my notes app on the first day of month two. On second thought, don’t answer that. I reminded myself that I did have three stents in my brain and should probably be happy with everything I’d accomplished so far (I’d grown comfortable running two to three miles each session) — but it wasn’t enough. I wanted to run longer, faster, and have more energy in general. But it sometimes felt like everything was working against me — time, weather, even my own body. “I’m trying to be proud, not guilty” my last note of the month read, perfectly summarizing the month’s training.

My last month of training was characterized by several energy crashes, characteristic of my undiagnosed autoimmune condition. I had to take several days off of training at a time, leading to regression in my progress, and made rest the number one priority. I was truly excited by how far I’d come since those first few impossible steps back in August, and I finished strong with a running session that actually felt enjoyable. But taking a step back, I knew my body wasn’t anywhere close to marathon ready.

“Quitting” is such an ugly word in American culture. We’re told that quitting means to fail, to abandon all hope, to submit to the first obstacle you encounter. But my version of quitting doesn’t feel this way. I gave that marathon training my all, and I still wasn’t ready. So rather than putting myself through something I knew would hurt me in the long run, I chose to listen to my body, acknowledge that my current plan wasn’t serving, and give myself some grace.

Of course, looking back it’s easy to see that my goal was unrealistic from the start, and ignored the very real variables that continue to compound my life (chronic illness, unexpected flare ups, pain, etc.). A marathon is an enormous feat for anyone to accomplish, let alone someone with my medical history. But don’t unrealistic goals sometimes lead to great personal triumphs? And in this case, learning that it’s OK to reframe your goals — to give yourself more time, to rest, to quit — is what will allow me to finally finish the marathon . . . one day.

Shortly after my decision to quit, but before the race took place, I spoke to two experts from Every Woman’s Marathon. As I sent over interview questions and joined Zoom calls, I tried to shake off the lingering guilt from not being able to run myself. But just because I had decided to quit the marathon, didn’t mean I had given up on running altogether — and I definitely had a lot left to learn.

Starting with my training timeline, I wanted to know how long it would actually take a beginner to properly prepare for a race of this caliber — should I ever decide to give marathoning another go. Assuming the fitness of about a 5K, running coach Alysha Flynn says the ideal timeline for marathon training is actually closer to seven to 12 months, which is a far cry from my measly 12 weeks. “That’s ideal because it doesn’t just allow you to physically condition yourself — mentally, you have to condition yourself as well,” she says. “If you just hit the gas pedal on, ‘Hey, I want to go do this,’ you didn’t give yourself the chance to navigate challenge, to navigate setbacks, to navigate illness.” I had, indeed, hit the gas pedal.

As it turns out, my non-existent nutrition plan also wasn’t doing me any favors. According to marathon nutritionist Kristy Baumann, RD, LD, you should always think about fueling your body before and after hitting the pavement. “Without adequate carbohydrates and proper hydration, runners can ‘hit the wall’ or experience energy crashes, particularly during longer runs,” Baumann says. “Strategic nutrition and hydration plans prevent these energy slumps, giving runners sustained energy and improving both pace and endurance.” She suggests being intentional about electrolytes, grabbing easy-to-digest carbs pre-run, and fueling up post-run with carbs and protein for muscle repair and recovery. You may also want to experiment with energy gels while running for fast-digesting carbs that’ll help keep your energy levels steady.

At this point, I was feeling sufficiently embarrassed, but also motivated by the idea that — with the proper tweaks and a lot more patience — a marathon could still be attainable for me. But even if it wasn’t in this moment, that doesn’t make you a failure, Flynn says. “I’ve had to walk off of a course three different times in my life, because of my body telling me, ‘This isn’t the experience for me. This is where my story ends on this course, and I’ve honored my body’s needs today by doing this,'” she explains. “It’s really hard to walk off the course when you pour a lot into what you wanted for that experience. But ultimately, if you’re doing it for the right reasons, that is your win.”

With this advice in mind, I ended up attending Every Woman’s Marathon as a supporter instead of a participant, and had the time of my life. While boarding a plane full of female runners, one woman told me she intended to cheer on her sister, who’s currently in her second trimester. Another woman said she hoped this marathon would help her gear up for another upcoming race in London. I listened to them both in awe.

On race day, energy was high as women from all walks of life entered their respective corrals. I quietly wondered if I’d ever have the discipline, drive, or resilience to do what the front runners could. But the final finishers also moved with intention and joy, making an extraordinary feat seem just a little less out of reach.

I don’t know if I’ll ever complete a full marathon in my lifetime, but I do know it’d take a lot longer than three months to prepare. In the meantime, I’m grateful for an experience that taught me to genuinely enjoy running, build better habits, and listen to my body (for real). Quitting doesn’t make you a failure, and if you ever need a reminder of that — three months of marathon training ought to do the trick.

Travel and expenses for the author were provided by Every Woman’s Marathon for the purpose of writing this story.

Chandler Plante (she/her) is an assistant health and fitness editor for PS. She has over four years of professional journalism experience, previously working as an editorial assistant for People magazine and contributing to Ladygunn, Millie, and Bustle Digital Group.