What I learned by running 50 half marathons

It was shortly after 9 a.m. on a brilliant fall Sunday, with a light breeze and a small but enthusiastic crowd of spectators, when I crossed the finish line of the Montgomery County Parks Half Marathon.

It’s my favorite race during my favorite time of year, with a close-to-home course that’s been part of my Sunday long runs for ages. But this particular Parks was special.

This particular Parks was my 50th half marathon and my 15-year-old daughter’s first. She joined me for the run along with a handful of close friends.

Years ago, I’d set myself the goal of running 50 half marathons by the time I turned 50. I unlocked the milestone early, as I’ll be turning 49 in a few months.

Now that I’ve had my giant post-race meal, washed my running clothes and thanked my team, I’ve been able to reflect a bit on the experience. And I’ve realized that as in most of life, leadership lessons are everywhere.

So, here are a few things I learned about leadership from my 655-mile running journey.

I can do big things.

I’d have to look back 20 years to when I took the LSAT, ultimately choosing to get a law degree at night, for my most recent multi-year project that had a definable goal and a deadline. Nowadays, I do a lot of small things. The carpool trip, the hour-long coaching session, the little home improvement project… these are the things that grab most of my energy of late.

It feels really good to know that even though I’m not in my 20s anymore, and even though I’m easily distractible, I can still do big things.

A big goal is always a series of smaller pieces.

Running 50 half marathons is a big goal. But I declared it first to myself, and to others, once I realized I was running 5-6 races a year anyway. I knew if I stayed healthy, didn’t injure myself and kept going, I’d hit the target.

Know what isn’t working.

I ran my first half marathon in 2012. Inspired, I decided to train for a full marathon and ran one in my hometown of Chicago the following year. It didn’t go great, but I finished.

I resolved to train better and work harder as I took on the Marine Corps Marathon the following year. Instead, it went worse.

I enjoyed neither the race nor the training for it, so I decided not to run marathons anymore.

Starting late is okay, as long as you start.

Of course, I told my kid how proud I was of her for finishing her first half. I also mentioned that she was 21 years younger than I had been when I did my first one. I was a nerdy, small, unathletic kid who developed some really unhealthy habits in high school and college. I didn’t run my first 5K until I was on the cusp of 30. But I ran it, and kept going.

Habits, routines and structures really help me achieve.

The main reason I started running a lot of races wasn’t for the medals or the t-shirts. It was because having a race on the calendar meant I’d train for it. Always have a race on the calendar, always be training. It’s been years since I settled into my typical weekly routine of running 3 miles on 4 weekdays and 8-12 miles on Sundays, sleeping in my running clothes and keeping my shoes out by the door. I’ve been doing it so long that it’s become a habit. It feels weird when I miss a day.

I’m not alone in my pursuits.

Running is primarily a solo sport, and I’ve truly cherished all of the solitude that came from the thousands of miles of training runs I’ve done over the years. I’ve had incredible runs on country roads in the middle of this country, along riverfronts in Europe and the Middle East, in cities I’ve only visited once for work — all on my own. This was the very definition of an individual performance goal. But at the same time, I’ve had a village.

I’ve had a supportive life partner who’s done plenty of driving and spectating. I’ve had occasional training partners who have helped me get motivated, including my own kid. Races require hundreds of staff and volunteers to pull off. I’m also grateful to the podcasters and musicians whose work propels me along when I’m running.

Slow and steady sometimes wins the race

I hit my PR (runner-speak for best, or personal record) for the half marathon in 2019. It was my 21st race. I pushed myself really hard and felt great about it. Afterwards, and especially after 5 “virtual races” during the 2020 pandemic year, I realized I wasn’t getting any faster. I could have put effort into the hustle to improve my time. I decided to focus on enjoying myself instead. I turned off the pacing notifications on my running app and just settled into a natural pace.

My 50th race was the second-slowest half marathon I ever ran. Our group had various levels of experience and speed, and we started out together for the first couple of miles. I wanted the kiddo to enjoy herself, and that meant not pushing too hard. The day was so significant, the weather so beautiful and the community so supportive that I loved taking the extra time on the course.

In a bit of a forehead slapping moment, I realized after running 50 half marathons that not trying to run a race as fast as you possibly can… feels really good!

I’m already wondering about what happens next.

Accomplishing a goal means there’s a day after, and a day after that. You become the person who did the thing. I’ve heard plenty of interviews with astronauts, olympic athletes and others who achieve something rare and impressive, only to struggle with what normal life looks like afterwards.

I’m curious, but not struggling. I am not ready to stop running half marathons, though I don’t think I’ll aim for another 50. I’m toying with the idea of running two favorite races and one that’s new to me every year.