Let’s start with the obvious: running takes time, and if you are training for a marathon it can take a lot. It borrows hours from family, friends, and the routines that keep life feeling steady. It means early alarms and earlier bedtimes, saying no to late nights, and sometimes missing a dance practice so I can slip in a run before the day gets away. I feel that guilt, and on some days it is loud. But over and over I have learned that the time I give to running gives more back to me, and to the people I love, than it takes.
Running has changed my life in the slow and practical way that repetition changes a person. There was no single breakthrough, just the steady work of setting a goal and keeping a promise to myself. That practice built discipline I can carry into the rest of my life, into a classroom full of kindergarteners, into parenting when my patience is running thin, into those elements of life that require showing up even when it is inconvenient. The miles have taught me grit too. When my legs feel like lead and my lungs are burning, I can still carry on and take the next step, and that ability does not disappear when the run ends. Showing up in all kinds of weather, on the days I feel strong and on the days I would rather not, has given me a surprising kind of peace: I do not control much about the world around me, but I can choose my next action. That choice is enough to keep moving.
On the run, you eventually meet your mind. Some days it is a coach with clear cues and a calm voice, and other days it is a toddler with a whistle and endless opinions. I have learned to notice the noise without obeying it, to let the messy thoughts pass like clouds, to breathe through feelings and return my attention to what is actually in my control—cadence, form, effort, one landmark at a time. That skill comes with me off the trail. It helps on the busy mornings when I’m running late and the dog still needs to get outside., in the long afternoons when my students need more than I have planned, and in the sudden life changes that arrive unexpectedly. The same tools of breathing, noticing, and choosing how to react, apply.
And then there is my daughter, Dot. She watches me train and sees the unglamorous parts as well as the highlight reels. The early alarms, muddy shoes by the door, a Sunday long run that ends with me raiding the fridge and working out a cramp on the living room floor. She sees me toe start lines, sometimes nail it and sometimes come up short, and either way return to the process. She is learning that strong is not a mood; it is a practice you build and rebuild. For her, being active and outside is not something out of the ordinary, but a normal way to spend time. She knows her mom runs marathons and 100 milers with thousands of people who decided that comfort is not the ultimate goal, but that rising to the challenge is. She has felt the shared joy that comes from tackling something that looked impossible at the start. If that example is selfish, I will happily accept the charge, because I want her to know we can take up space, sweat on purpose, and pursue big goals with a full heart. Those habits will carry her far.
Running also gave me a community I did not know I needed. The sport introduced me to friends who show up to a starting line to cheer me on in the wee hours of the morning, a perfectly timed joke to turn things around, and the last sip of their bottle when yours runs dry. They have made this town feel like home and turned hard times into something manageable. We celebrate personal records, and we also celebrate the finish lines where nothing went according to plan except the part where you refused to quit. The best part is how those relationships stretch beyond training; the brunches that stretch late into the day, group camping trips, meme exchanges that arrive exactly when you need a laugh, and the steady showing up for each other when life gets complicated.
Most importantly, running has been a steady anchor for my mental health. I use it to manage anxiety and depression, not as a cure-all but as a reliable tool. Moving on purpose every day, especially clicking a way miles on the pavement or trail, turns down the volume on anxious thoughts. The rhythm of footfalls and breath clears space in my head, and the physical effort gives my mind something useful to do with its restlessness. I finish hard runs with shaky legs and a quiet mind. Actively pursuing those difficult challenges and breaking them down; one mile, one hill, one repeat, reminds me I can do hard things, and that reminder makes the rest of life more workable.
If you like metaphors, here is mine, life often feels like a marathon. And like a marathon, it requires taking things one mile at a time. Some stretches are light and fast. Others demand bargaining, patience, and a little creativity to keep going. Yet there is always the possibility of a second wind, a friendly face, or a view that completely changes your outlook. You do not get that if you never start, and you certainly do not get it if you stop.
So no, running is not selfish. It is an investment that pays out in patience, resilience, physical and mental health, and a version of me that is more present, kinder, and steadier. My daughter gets a mom who can meet the moment with flexibility and calm. My students get a teacher who models effort and accountability. My friends and family get someone who focuses on what matters and lets go of the rest.
If you are wrestling with guilt or logistics, here are a few practices that help:
- Put your runs on the calendar like any other commitment, and protect most of them while letting a few go without drama so running adds to your life rather than takes it over.
- Involve your people when you can. Utilize those stroller miles, get those kids on bikes, or plan meetups at the finish, so your community can feel included in the thing you love.
- Trade perfection for consistency. If you have twenty minutes, use them. Don’t feel bad about being the parent who’s running miles while the rest watch batting practice from the bleachers. Your children will see that it’s okay to see that you have your own goals and prioritize your own health.
- Write down why you started and keep it where you can find it. You will need it around week ten when motivation starts to wane.
- Remember it’s okay to put yourself first in some areas of your life. You always hear the saying, you can’t pour from an empty cup. Let running be your healthy, productive, and enjoyable beverage.
Running gives more than it takes. It builds the kind of strength you bring back home and share with those around you. And if you let it, it can transform every area of your life. If you see me out there, say hello. I will be the one with the messy ponytail, the under eye bags, a stubborn grin, and a very firm belief that while it may appear selfish on the surface, this sport and the people in it, can be pretty darn selfless.
Shannon Hogan
Shannon is a 2026 Grambassador. Meet the other ambassadors here.
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Favorite Grandma’s Marathon Memory: When I think of Grandma’s Marathon, my fondest memories aren’t really about the race itself—they’re about the people and the feeling of community that surrounds it. Grandma’s has given me so much more than miles on the course; it’s given me friendships and traditions I cherish year after year. I think about my Hoops Running Club teammates who bring endless laughs and encouragement, the familiar “Grandma’s regulars” I catch up with once a year like it’s a family reunion, and the welcoming Grandma’s staff and Grambassadors who make every runner feel like they belong. And maybe best of all, my kiddo, Dot has joined in on the tradition too, lacing up for the 5K each year and joining in all the weekend festivities—it’s become our shared celebration of running, joy, and this amazing community.
Quote that guides, inspires, or embodies your training, racing, or life: “Nothing lasts forever.” Both the joy and the struggle are temporary. The good moments are gifts—pause, savor them, and let yourself be fully present. And when challenges come, in training, in racing, or in life, remember that they, too, will pass.
Song that must be on your running playlist: My musical inspirations are always changing, but right now it’s “Passenger” by Noah Kahan.
2026 running goal: Soak in the 50th Anniversary and run my first Great Grandma’s double (from the finish to the start and back)! PR the 100 mile distance.
Advice to other runners: Dare to do something that feels impossible. Set goals that seem out of reach, where the risk of falling short is real. It’s in those moments—when the outcome isn’t guaranteed—that true growth happens. These challenges not only reveal your limits, they expand them, reshaping you again and again into a more resilient, peaceful, and grateful person.