Running Your Own Race

Hard but worth it

This weekend reminded me how many kinds of races we’re all running at once in our lives. Some are long marathons, some are quick sprints, and some feel more like obstacle courses.

Late last night, I surprised myself by publishing a pop culture piece on Medium about. It wasn’t something I had planned, but once the idea struck, I couldn’t let it go. By the time I hit “publish” it was 2:30 in the morning. The act of finishing that piece left me completely drained, but also satisfied enough to sleep soundly until nearly 11 AM. For me, that kind of deep, uninterrupted sleep is a small victory in itself.

Today belonged to Sophie. We drove over to The Bookery so she could pick up her gift card for winning second place in their kids’ short story competition last month. She beamed as she chose a ghost-themed sweatshirt and bookmarks—cozy picks that made her accomplishment feel real in her hands.

From there we headed to the art store, where she signed up for October’s kids’ entrepreneur sale. Last March she sold bracelets; time she wants to create a more forest-inspired booth. She’s dreaming of making earthy bracelets, homemade snack mixes, and even fudge.

Watching her plan fills me with pride. And gives me a logistics headache.

That running around was my limit for the day. Once we got home, I turned back to the realities I can’t escape: rent, bills, and the math of trying to make ends meet. The weight of those numbers always lingers, even on the best days.

Meanwhile, I’ve also been circling back to something I set aside for several years: makeup. This week I tried wearing foundation again, only to realize how awful it looked on my skin. Oily yet dry, uneven yet heavy—it highlighted everything I wanted to hide. Instead of giving up, I decided to shift focus. My skin isn’t ready for makeup yet, so I’m working first on restoring its texture and health. It’s a slower process than I wanted, but it’s the right one for me.

Somewhere in the middle of all of this—the writing, the errands, the bills, my health setbacks, the small experiments with self-care—it occurred to me just how true it is that we all have to run our own race.

We don’t all start from the same place. Some of us begin with smooth lanes and good shoes, others with rocky paths and heavy loads. Life brings detours, injuries, and unexpected terrain. What matters isn’t how fast we move compared to anyone else. What matters is that we keep showing up on the track we’re given, step by step.

Sophie’s wins, my experiments, even my rest—all of it is part of the race I’m running. And yours will look different, shaped by your own challenges and victories.

So if you’re feeling behind (like me), remember: there is no single clock, no universal finish line. Forward is forward, no matter the pace.