I Ran My First Marathon with a Stress Fracture

Let me take you back to fall of 1997. I was a third-year law student at Columbia. Stressed, overachieving, and trying to prove I could do it all. In the middle of outlining for finals, interviewing for jobs, and running on fumes, I decided to train for my first marathon. Because of course I did.

The plan was to run the New York City Marathon.
The reality was that I overtrained during my summer internship in Atlanta. Hills, heat, and hustle caught up with me. I ended up with a stress fracture in my left tibia, but I was too stubborn to stop.

So I improvised. I found a high school pool way across town where a coach taught water running. Yes, water running. I would drag myself onto a city bus in my swimsuit and run in the deep end like my life depended on it. I was doing everything except what I really needed: rest.

Race day came.
Freezing cold. Pouring rain. Icy wind.
I have Raynaud’s disease, which means my fingers and toes go completely numb in the cold. Within minutes, I could not feel my hands or feet. By mile 19, I was in serious pain. Limping. Shivering. Barely hanging on.

But then I saw her.
My friend Samantha Schreiber, one of my closest friends from law school, standing where we had planned to meet. She was supposed to run the last 7 miles with me. Instead, she took one look at me and ran to grab a hot cup of coffee so I could warm my frozen fingers.

And we walked. 

For 7 cold, painful, unforgettable miles.
It took me six and a half hours to finish.

But I finished.

And I was not alone.

My entire family flew in from Miami just to support me. My parents. My younger sister, still in high school at the time. None of us came from a culture of marathon running. I was the first in my family to even consider it. And there they were, standing in the freezing rain for over 6 hours, holding handmade signs, cheering for me and for every runner that passed.

They were so loud and so present that the NYC Marathon officials gave them official rain jackets as a thank you.

That moment lives in my bones.
They did not show up for the finish line.
They showed up for the hard middle. The mile 19 moment.

Years later, I ran the Chicago Marathon. That time, I trained smarter. I did not overdo it. I had support. I ran across the finish line healthy and strong, smiling all the way.

But I will never forget that first marathon.

Because that finish line was not about speed or strength. 

It was about the power of people who stand in the rain for you.

Your Challenge This Week

Think about your own mile 19 moment. That time you were in pain, overwhelmed, or lost, but kept going anyway.

Ask yourself:
Who showed up for you when you could not go it alone?
Who brought you the coffee, stood in the rain, or walked beside you?

Now flip it. Whose mile 19 moment can you show up for this week?
Be their steady voice. Be their warmth. Be their sign in the storm.

Leading with Courage

Real leadership is not about pretending everything is fine while you push through pain. It is about pausing when you need to, asking for help, and letting others walk with you.

The strongest leaders I know are not solo sprinters.
They are the ones who keep showing up with grace, grit, and a deep knowing that we rise better when we rise together.

Breakthrough Tool of the Week

Adjust the Plan, Not the Dream
When everything hurts, it is tempting to give up. But what if the win is not in how you thought it would go, but in how you choose to keep going anyway?

Ask yourself:
Is this still aligned with my purpose?
Am I ignoring signs I need to slow down?
Can I still finish, just differently?

There is power in choosing to walk when you cannot run.
There is wisdom in listening to your body. And there is deep, life-anchoring love in letting others help you cross the finish line.

Let us keep rising.
Even if it is mile by mile.
Even if it is slow.
Even if we are soaking wet and walking.

You do not have to run to rise.
You just have to keep going.