Ex-Dancer Tries Running a Marathon
**Title: From Dancer to Runner: A Journey Through Training for a Trail Half Marathon**
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As the title might have suggested, I grew up dancing from the ages of 10 to 17, and the idea of running was never something that crossed my mind until I married a Division 1 athlete. My husband casually talked about running a marathon in two hours and 30-something minutes as if it were nothing, which made me think, "Why not give running a try?" At 19 years old, I decided to take up running, but it turns out that my dance training had left me with the skills of a very slow runner. For two years, I couldn’t even run past 1.3 miles in a row. That was until someone gave me what seemed like *bonkers* advice: "Just run slower and at a pace where you can hold a conversation." To my surprise, when I tried it, I managed to run four miles in a row!
Then, on a random Sunday afternoon, I decided to sign myself up for a half marathon. Little did I know that I had just signed up for a *trail* marathon, which is vastly different from running on roads. With only eight weeks to train, I knew I had my work cut out for me.
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### The Training Journey
Let’s start back at the beginning. Good morning—I’m out here for my third run of the week. Three miles today, but actually, I did 2.5 miles on Monday because my legs went numb from the knees down. No idea what that was about! My calves were already tight, and running was proving to be a challenge. On Tuesday, I pushed through and managed 2.6 miles, but it wiped me out completely. By the end of the week, I had done three miles, but it was a rough one. Tomorrow is a rest day, and then Saturday is four miles—my first mini long run.
Week two brought more challenges. I was supposed to do six miles in Florida’s intense humidity, which felt almost like 90 degrees. At three miles in, I couldn’t imagine finishing the full six. Eventually, I managed to get through it, but it wasn’t easy. Week three had its own struggles. I was supposed to run three miles today, but I missed another three-mile run earlier in the week. The day after landing back, I was supposed to tackle eight miles—a distance I hadn’t done since last year and only once in my life.
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### Race Day Preparations
As August turned to September, the race loomed closer. On one particularly tough training day, I was supposed to run four miles but could barely make it two due to horrendous allergies that left me feeling exhausted even before starting. The next morning, I pushed through and ran 4.16 miles by going really slow—proof that the advice to run at a conversational pace had paid off.
Week five brought more training highs and lows. I was supposed to do three miles on Monday but skipped it, so I had to make it up today. Tomorrow is rest day, followed by a 10-mile run—a distance I hadn’t attempted in years. I couldn’t afford to slack off on the smaller runs if I wanted to tackle that 10-mile challenge.
In week six, I decided to treat myself with some rewards. Originally, I wanted to buy a cute running vest, but when I walked into the store, all I could think about was how awkward it would be to try them on in public. Instead, I left with two Goos and a new pair of Hokas—the Clifton Nines, in white, gray, baby blue, and chartreuse. It wasn’t what I planned, but it sure felt like a win.
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### The Long Run
The morning of my 11-mile run arrived bright and early at 6:25 AM. Waking up at 6:15 to get ready for this mileage was surreal. My new shoes felt great as I laced them up, but the heat was already starting to take its toll. By mile five, I was thinking about water breaks and whether I should eat my Goos. It wasn’t until mile nine that things got tough, but mentally, I pushed through. The pain of long runs doesn’t hit you mid-run—it creeps in after you shower and settles into your body like a slow-moving storm.
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### Race Week and the Big Day
Race week brought mixed emotions. On Monday, I did my three-mile easy run. Tuesday was supposed to be two miles, but rest day. Wednesday: another two miles. Thursday: rest. Friday: the big day—13.1 miles of trail running. When I told myself it was just a 13.1-mile run, it didn’t feel like a race. But deep down, I knew this was no small feat.
The night before the race, nerves set in. I had friends and family coming to support me, and I worried about finishing slower than expected. My husband, who’s run some of the fastest marathons, even decided to join me despite breaking his pinky toe weeks earlier. We weren’t sure what to expect, but we were ready.
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### The Race Itself
The race began with a surreal sense of excitement. My friends cheered me on, and I was shocked when they found me early in the course. The trail was narrower than I expected—just one person wide—and lined with rocks that tested my balance. This wasn’t just a dirt path; it was a real hiking trail with hills, rocks, and tree branches blocking my way. It felt like I was foraging through the woods.
By mile five, I realized how challenging this trail was compared to road running. My calves and feet were working overtime, and I couldn’t help but smile as I focused on navigating the rocks instead of worrying about my time. The goal was just to finish.
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### Midrace Struggles
Midway through the race, confusion set in when a group of full marathoners stopped to figure out where they were going. After standing around for five minutes, we finally moved forward. By mile 11.5, I realized something was wrong—the map said 13.1 miles, but all I could see was the finish line at 11.5. I knew I had to turn around to hit my mark.
The heat was oppressive by this point, and running in circles under a tiny patch of shade felt like the only way to stay hydrated. Finally, at 12:45 PM, I pushed out of the shade and toward the finish line. Playing "Long Live" by Taylor Swift on repeat, I reminded myself of how far I’d come.
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### Reflections
As I crossed the finish line, a wave of relief washed over me. The experience was everything I thought it would be—challenging, exhausting, and ultimately rewarding. Completing that half marathon taught me that with persistence and the right mindset, I could achieve something I never thought possible.
And so, as the title might have led you to believe, my journey from a dancer to a trail runner was anything but linear. It was filled with trials, triumphs, and a whole lot of lessons about what it means to push yourself beyond your limits.