QUOTE OF THE DAY
“Comparison is the thief of joy.”
– Theodore Roosevelt
IDEA OF THE DAY
This past weekend, I ran a half-marathon with my brother and a friend. Well—jogged might be the more accurate term, as I’m by no means a fast runner. But with this being my third half-marathon over the years, I’ve realized something: despite the pain of running 13.2 miles, I keep signing up for more. Why is that?
For one, the energy at these races is infectious! Whether there are 100 or 100,000 runners, everyone has made a commitment to show up—rain or shine—at 7:00 a.m. to run. At the starting line, there’s laughter, costumes, and friends and family cheering each other on. The joy is undeniable.
Another reason? I’ve never done a race alone. Having a running partner keeps me accountable, makes training more fun, and gives me someone to celebrate with at the finish line.
This particular race in Napa started that way—I ran with a friend. But about five miles in, our paces shifted. He surged ahead with his bunny-like energy, while I maintained my steady turtle pace. That left me with eight miles of running solo. And you know what? It was great. I soaked in the scenery, hydrated, and reminded myself how lucky I was to be part of this experience.
I was doing stellar—until the last mile.
By mile 13, I was hurting. My body begged me to walk, but my mind was determined to finish strong. As I rounded the last curve, coaching myself to cross the finish line in style, I heard a surge of cheers behind me. At first, I thought it was for all the runners nearing the end. But then I turned my head—and saw the first MARATHON runner flying past me.
Someone who ran twice as far as I did just breezed by me.
For a moment, I felt deflated. Like all my training, all my years of running meant nothing in comparison.
But then I asked myself: Do I even want to be a marathon runner? And the answer was a clear no.
I’d love to be a marathon painter or a marathon meditator, but I have no desire to push my running beyond where it brings me joy. Instead of feeling inadequate, I chose to be happy for the young man who finished first and qualified for the Boston Marathon. And I chose to be happy for myself—because my race was over, and the only thing I was racing toward now was a big post-run brunch.
So as you go through your week, think about what you love so much that you wouldn’t mind making a marathon out of it. Comparison can offer insight, but it isn’t necessary to recognize what naturally brings you joy.
QUESTION OF THE DAY
If you could “run a marathon” in any area of life, what would it be? What could you dedicate yourself to wholeheartedly?