resiliency in training.
I know a thing or two about resilience.
The first time I signed up to run a half-marathon at Disney was in 2014. Four months before race day, I got sick with viral meningitis. I was hospitalized for four days, missed my sister’s wedding (an entirely different blog post for another day), and suffice it to say, the recovery was rough.
When I finally started feeling like myself again, the time to start training for the race was tight—but I took it week by week, run by run, and in November 2014, I finished my first runDisney race, the Wine & Dine Half Marathon.
It was anything short of easy. It was a 10 pm race, which was interesting in and of itself. I had no idea how to eat and nourish myself for a night race, a 10 pm night race! And it was really strange to run 13 miles and then go to bed. As if everything leading up to the race wasn’t tough already, it then proceeded to rain almost the entire night. By mile three, I wanted to quit. I remember seeing a volunteer around that point and seriously contemplated throwing in the towel, but I didn’t. I kept going and eventually crossed the finish line, soaked but proud.
In 2019, I ran a second time in Florida, this time in Celebration. No wild stories leading up to that race, other than it poured again, the entire run. After that race, I always said I’d come back a third time for redemption—hopefully with actual sunshine in the Sunshine State.
Years passed. I stopped running altogether. Walking felt great, but running didn’t. I said out loud many times, “I’ll never run again” and “If you see me running, look behind me because something is probably chasing me”. I held onto this narrative for almost five years. That story left little room for change, compassion, or curiosity. The version of me that created that narrative was no more, so a few weeks ago, when I got a random urge to jog again, I nearly dismissed it. I started with short, very slow (I mean very slow) intervals, and much to my dismay, it actually felt good.
Backing up to a bit earlier this year, on a spring break hike in the Smoky Mountains, I met a man on a rather steep mountain trail. I struck up a conversation as he passed and asked him if he’d done this hike before. He said yes and that he’d done it many times before, but that he was doing the trail for the first time since recovering from blood cancer. He recalled that he was moving more slowly than before, but he was there, showing up and trying it again. His determination and perseverance to show up and do something hard stuck with me long after the hike ended.
Fast forward to a few weeks ago, Bret Shuford, a content creator I’ve followed on Instagram for a long time, opened up about his recent lymphoma diagnosis and shared a story about the Blood Cancer United Team in Training for runDisney.
Something stirred in me. I thought of that man on the trail, my rainy Florida races, and the promise I made to come back one more time. It seemed like all the pieces were falling into place. So here we are. I’ve officially joined Team in Training for the 2026 Run Disney Half Marathon.
I’m on week four of training, and I’m surprising myself nearly every time I step out for a training run.
Since the time I signed up and started training, another friend whom I know from social media shared that her mom was diagnosed with blood cancer. The fire in me to keep going is stronger than ever. The resilience to get outside, even on these colder and windy days, to train is bigger than before. There is a strong purpose in this journey. I know that every mile, every dollar fundraised, and every step that I take is for something so much bigger than myself.
If you’re still reading, thank you. I could really use your help, not only in encouragement to cross the finish line, but in helping blood cancer patients and their families. I’ve set a big fundraising goal, and every donation brings me one step closer. Your support means a lot, not just for me but for anyone affected by blood cancer.
