It’s been a demanding season. The sale of my business has brought a wave of transition, requiring time, focus, and much energy. In the middle of that, many of the “extra” things in life—like writing—have taken a back seat.
But one thing hasn’t—my training
.
In June, I’ll be running Grandma’s Marathon—not just as a personal challenge, but as part of a mission to bring clean water to communities that desperately need it. My goal is to raise $15,000 for water projects through the Prairie Fire Foundation. Access to clean water changes everything: health, education, opportunity, and dignity. It’s a simple need that still isn’t met for millions of people around the world.
If you feel led to be part of that impact, you can donate or share the mission at www.prairiefire.foundation.
With less than eight weeks to go, I’m deep in the most difficult stretch of training. This is the part where progress isn’t glamorous. It’s early mornings, tired legs, and choosing discipline over comfort. It’s showing up even when life feels full in every other way.
The past few weeks have pushed me. Long runs have stretched to 20 miles, with pace work layered in on already fatigued legs. Some days feel strong; others feel like a grind. And if I’m honest, there’s always that quiet question in the back of my mind—will I hit the wall again at mile 20?
Mondays and Fridays tend to be rest days. Tuesdays, Wednesdays, and Thursdays, pretty average 3–4-mile runs. The main training is accomplished on the weekends. My past three weekends of training have looked somewhat like this:
Saturday: 10 miles at 7:53/mile pace (goal marathon pace ~8:15/mile)
Sunday: 20 miles at 9:12/mileSaturday: 2-mile warmup, 4×1 mile intervals (6:58, 6:56, 6:47, 7:00), 2-mile cooldown
Sunday: 18 miles at 8:37/mileSaturday: 2-mile warmup, 3×1.5 mile intervals (7:00, 7:20, 7:17), 2-mile cooldown
Sunday: 20 miles at 8:49/mile
When the training gets tough, water motivates me!
The miles don’t get easier. In fact, they might get more difficult. But the purpose becomes clearer. Every mile is now tied to something bigger than a finish time. Every step is connected to the hope that someone, somewhere, will have access to clean water because of this effort.
That changes how you run. It changes how you feel.
It doesn’t eliminate the fatigue, but it gives it meaning. It doesn’t remove the doubt, but it gives you a reason to push through it.
There have been small setbacks. Strength training hasn’t been as consistent as I would like it to be. Cross-training has slipped. Life has a way of interrupting even the best plans. But the core work—the running, the commitment, the forward movement—continues.
And in many ways, that’s what this journey is about: not perfection, but persistence.
On my last training run, my Garmin watch told me that my heart rate was higher than usual and my VO2 Max (efficiency) slightly lower. I’m sure it’s right. After weeks of hard effort, my body is asking for rest. So, I’ll listen. Because strength isn’t just about pushing forward—it’s also built in knowing when to recover. It’s time.
My next difficult run will be on May 6th, a 5K race in Pella. It’s a short distance (3.1 miles), but I’ll be running with my 25-year-old son, Luke, who will likely push the pace to around 7:00 per mile. So, I’ll scale back until then and hope with some rest and fresh legs that I can keep up—at least for a while.
But there’s still work to do. The hay is not in the barn! Six more weeks of training. More miles. More discipline. More opportunities to choose purpose over comfort.
And along the way, here’s an open invitation:
If you’ve ever wanted to make a tangible difference in someone’s life…
If you’ve ever believed that small efforts, multiplied, can create real change…
If you’ve ever needed a reason to believe that something as simple as a run can matter…
Your support—whether through giving, sharing, or simply encouraging—goes far beyond race day. It becomes part of a story that reaches across the world and into lives we may never personally see, but can still profoundly impact.
Race day is coming. The miles will be hard. But the mission is worth it.
And that makes every step count.
I hope you will follow my story and follow my mission.
Comments
Nothing yet. Say the first thing.
Sign in to join the conversation.