In every family, certain legacies and traditions weave through the generations like threads in a tapestry, binding members with invisible yet unbreakable bonds. In my family, one of those binding threads is running—a constant, pulsing line that connects us, challenges us, and teaches us. It’s a legacy not marked by grand ceremonies but by the quiet passing of the baton from one runner to the next, from one generation to the next.
My family had success in running for years since an early age. To the left is a picture of my senior year cross country team. Myself and the other 2 co-captains, my brothers, and 2 others between our year made up the top 7 runners. While my sister is a lot younger than myself, so we would never run on the same teams, she saw success as well, about a decade later.
The Starting Line: A Legacy Begins
My earliest memories are the sight of my father disappearing around the bend for his run, and the vibrancy of his race days. There was always a hustle about the start line, the finish line, and the coveted free snacks at the end. Yet, running wasn’t just a hobby in our household; it was a part of our identity, beginning with him. But this legacy was never handed to me with pomp and ceremony; it was a quiet baton passed in small, significant moments—the invitation to a .25-mile fun run, the encouragement as I navigated the blocks around our home, the challenge of “just one more mile.”
Watching my dad run races was like peering into a world of endless possibilities. From small local 5Ks to the grand spectacle of the NYC marathon, each event was a lesson in dedication, perseverance, and the joy of running. I was about 7 or 8 when he first invited me to join a fun run. Initially overwhelmed with fear, I declined. But as is often the case with missed opportunities, regret quickly set in, paving the way for a determined “yes” the next time around.
Thresholds Crossed: From Hesitation to Determination
That initial .25-mile fun run, though brief, was a revelation. Running wasn’t so bad; in fact, I was eager to do it again. Under my dad’s patient guidance, my running journey began. From cautious laps around the block to the momentous day he invited me for an “easy run”. Guiding me throughout the run with instructions like “turn left at the corner” and “turn left at the light and we will start heading home”. These instructions helped keep my mind on going the right way and off the stretched, unexpected, distance. My perception of distance and my own capabilities transformed that day. We finished that run and my dad asked “how far do you think we ran today?”. Not having a GPS watch, phone, or even internet to check, I guessed about 1 mile. He smiled big and said, “you just ran 2.5 miles!” That run wasn’t just about covering ground; it was about crossing the thresholds of doubt and self-imposed limits. With each step, the world expanded before me, offering not just paths to run, but paths to explore, learn, and grow.
From that point forward, I knew I could do more than I initially thought. It started at a race at the local park where a man, who I thought was ancient at the time, was nursing an injury and was planning to run with a cane. He approached me and tried to nurture my running by challenging me in the race. I knew I’d win, but he helped me get to the finish line faster. That ‘ancient man’ is now still wearing the same jersey and working with today’s kids, including mine, at the start of fun runs. That’s him in the green shirt below leading the children in some silly warm-ups.
My dad ran the LI half marathon and invited me to jump in an keep him company for about a 5k stretch. Knowing that was basically just an easy run, I took the opportunity. The following year, I took him up on the opportunity but then tacked on an additional 5k, my new longest run. I even saw my 7th grade math teacher way ahead running his way to his first LI Marathon win (he won 3 in a row). The year after that, I ran 10 miles with my dad on the LI half marathon course, and finally I wanted to register to run the whole thing. The irony, I was too young to register. Outside of legal limits, mental limits and physical limits were no longer a barrier to me.
The Medals of Life: Embracing the Competitive Spirit
As I was open to running longer distances now, I was also open to running those distances in races. Being so young, I didn’t start winning races right away, but eventually I started to see success in my age group. As I started to collect medals and accolades, the pride I felt was about more than just the physical token of achievement. It was a validation of effort, a symbol of pushing past what I thought was possible. This was not about the solitary victory of crossing the finish line first but about the shared journey of every training session and every moment of doubt I had overcome. My family’s reaction evolved from casual acknowledgment to active encouragement, fueling my competitive spirit and driving us to to push each other further.
Victory in running taught me early lessons in persistence and pride. Winning my age group wasn’t just a personal achievement; it was a moment of shared joy and pride for my family. It signaled that the quiet dedication to training, the countless hours spent running together, and the sacrifices made along the way were all worth it. These moments of victory sent my competitiveness—and my dad’s—into overdrive. We dove deeper into the world of running, participating in more races, developing strategies, and even attracting the attention of local running store sponsors.
There is also a cautionary tale hidden in here about burnout. Seeing success can lead to additional training and racing which could eventually lead to burnout. While persistence is important, know too, that so are rest days and easy run days. Don’t go out and run your best workout or tempo run every day, even if you are mentally ready.
Beyond the Finish Line: Running as a Life Philosophy
Running has taught me that the real race is in the mind. Speaking with fellow runners, I’ve often encountered the fear of the unknown—”I’m not sure I can do it.” But running success is so heavily reliant on mindset. You need to believe you can do it before your body can attempt it. This realization—that so much of it is in your own head—has been a game-changer for me, making the pursuit of new challenges and pushing my limits so much more attainable.
This was evident when I ran my 52.5 mile ultra marathon. I decided to take on double my longest distance run in one go. The only reason something that, well, crazy is possible is because I had the right mindset in place going into the race.
Mindset Matters: The Universal Application
This shift from hoping to succeed to knowing you can achieve something is powerful, and it transcends running. The mindset of “I can do it” is transformative. It’s a lesson that’s not confined to the track or trail; it’s a life lesson.
No, this isn’t a ‘yes day’ type mantra. There are things you can’t do, like fly off the roof of the house. However, start with baby steps. Need to diet? Set a realistic goal and know that you will succeed at meeting the goal. Tired at your job? If you believe you are worthy of a better job (maybe one that pays more too) then you will do what it takes to get hired. Looking to break a new racing barrier? Yea, you can do it!
Knowing something to be true, even when it hasn’t happened yet, can be powerful! Use that to your advantage.
Passing the Baton: Fostering a Love for Running
Now, as I watch my own children take their first stride into running, the legacy of running continues to unfold. Sharing stories of my races, explaining the emotions tied to each part of a marathon course, and reminiscing about my experiences all serve to inspire and ignite a passion for running in them. Running has become a medium through which I connect with my family, share life lessons, and foster a positive mindset.
The Race Goes On: Living the Lessons
As I set my sights on new distances and challenges, like the 50 miler I conquered and the upcoming 100k I plan to do this year, I do so with a mindset fortified by years of running. Each race, each training session, and each conversation about running is a step in the ongoing journey of personal growth, family bonding, and the continuation of a legacy that began long before I laced up my first pair of running shoes.
Running in our family is more than a tradition; it’s a testament to the enduring power of belief, perseverance, and the joy of shared experiences. It’s about setting an example, not just for my children but for anyone doubting their capabilities, that with the right mindset, any distance is conquerable. As we pass the baton from one generation to the next, we’re not just sharing a love for running; we’re sharing a philosophy for life: believe in yourself, embrace the challenge, and never stop exploring your potential.
In running, as in life, the journey never truly ends. Each finish line is a new beginning, a gateway to untold adventures and unexplored paths. The lessons learned along the way are the true legacy of running in the family, offering not just a blueprint for personal achievement but a guide for living with courage, determination, and joy.
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