I hate running, but I'm running a half marathon in 100 days
Why I'm going all in on my first postpartum race
In fall 2013, I wanted to do something radical to change my life.
I was living in New York City, had just gotten over a bad breakup, and was feeling completely out of shape mentally and physically. So I signed up with friends to train for a half marathon through the brutal New York winter.
At the time, I was working in private equity with long, unpredictable hours. Getting in the miles each week required serious discipline: waking up early, braving the cold, not staying out late so I could do my long Sunday runs.
When I started training, I could barely run a mile. My lungs burned, my legs cramped, and I wanted to quit every day. But I stuck to my 10-week training plan and gave it my all on race day. Crossing the finish line, I felt euphoric, glowing with an inner confidence I never knew I had.
After that first race, when I could still barely walk, I immediately signed up for my second, then my third. Within a year, I went from never running to being a "runner."
What I grew to love about running wasn't about keeping pace or setting records. It was about going inward.
The miles on the New York City streets gave me space to escape my daily grind and think deeply about my life. I started having conversations with myself I'd been avoiding. Questions about whether I was happy, what I actually wanted, who I was becoming.
Running transformed my identity. I became the type of person who planned, who showed up, who does what she says she'll do. It was the first thing I'd done purely for myself, outside of a job that consumed me.
Most importantly, it taught me I could commit to hard things, even when they felt impossible.
Then over time, somewhere between business school, moving across the country, fertility struggles, pregnancy, and postpartum, that part of me faded. The person who made bold commitments to herself got buried under everything else.
Fast forward to now, over a decade later. As a mom of two under four who's starting a company, running a half marathon sounds nuts.
My schedule is already packed. Training requires consistent long runs, but with young kids, someone always needs a snack, has a meltdown, or gets sick right when I’m supposed to head out the door.
But it's also the first time in five years that I can prioritize an offline hobby. I'm not pregnant or nursing, and my hormones have stabilized at 18 months postpartum. Since leaving my corporate job, I finally have flexibility in my schedule and the energy to commit.
It's "summer" in San Francisco (perfect 60-degree running weather), I live by the park, and the streets are flat - I even bought new running shoes!
Nothing is standing in my way except my own ability to show up and put in the work.
The timing feels particularly meaningful.
The race falls the day before my grandmother's birthday, the first since she passed. I felt drawn to running as a way to process my grief. I even convinced my cousins, aunt and uncle to run it with me.
But the deeper motivation is about reclaiming myself.
I want something in my life that I can completely control, that gives me a sense of progress and focus, especially now that I'm not getting that validation from my job. I want to reclaim the version of myself that got lost in motherhood - the one who made bold commitments and followed through.
This isn't about getting my body back or losing baby weight. It's about reconnecting with my momentum, the driving force that fuels me, that is growing louder now that I'm past the all-consuming baby phase.
There are seasons of motherhood. I've been in a season of survival mode, of putting everyone else first. But I'm ready for a season of choosing myself.
Some people say if you want to make a change, start small. Tiny habits matter over the long run. And for the most part, I agree.
But there's also power in starting big. In making a commitment that scares you a little, that requires you to stretch beyond who you currently are.
Real transformation requires a spark of motivation and a goal that feels achievable yet uncomfortable. Something that demands you show up differently, consistently, even when you don't feel like it.
I'm the type of person who does what I say I will do. I don't break commitments to others or myself, so sharing this publicly keeps me honest.
Committing to this challenge is both terrifying and empowering. I haven't run in eight years, but I know I can do it.
Here I go - will report back in 100 days!
Namaste,
Tamara
If you're nodding along thinking "I need to do something for me too," hit the heart and tell me what bold move you've been putting off. Sometimes we just need to say it out loud to make it real.