Beyond the Finish Line

What Hitting the Wall at 30km of a Marathon Taught Me About Juggling Life

A Tearful Finish

Hey Jugglers,

Remember that feeling? The one where you know you should be doing something good for yourself – eating well, getting enough sleep, prepping for that big challenge – but somehow, indulgence wins? Yeah, me too.

The night before my first official marathon, I was at a wedding. Let's just say the celebration involved more creamy sauces and cake than proper nutrition. Waking up still full, I forced down my overnight oats, telling myself, "At least I won't run out of calories". 

Standing at the starting line, surrounded by thousands of buzzing runners, the energy was palpable. Despite the less-than-ideal prep, the morning sun felt promising. I even had a plan: find my friend. As they say, "If you want to go fast, go alone; if you want to go far, go together". A marathon felt like "far." Community, even just one person, is essential when you're doing something big.  

The race started with the most anticlimactic shuffle I've ever seen. Eventually, gaps opened, and I pushed harder than planned, catching up with my friend after 5km. He’s the kind of guy I wish I had more of in my life—he challenges himself and is always learning something. For a while, we ran together.  

The Inevitable Wall

Passing the halfway point, the crowd thinned. The cheerful signs ("You paid for this!" ) started getting weaker smiles from me. Then came kilometre 30. My friend was hurting. And honestly? So was I. Supporting him felt like the right thing to do, but a deeper voice whispered that I needed to run my own race.  

I pulled away, turning onto a long, brutal stretch of road. Then onto another, even worse – a patchwork of cracks and poorly filled holes. This wasn't the scenic route anymore. This was the dirty thirties.

And the wall? It wasn't metaphorical. It was a physical, mental, and emotional wall that felt insurmountable. My usual strategy of walking the water stations devolved into sipping to prolong the walking. Starting to run again felt harder every time. The cheers faded. The path felt desolate, littered with the debris of runners who'd passed through. Seeing someone getting loaded into an ambulance nearby didn't help. Every step felt precarious, my legs threatening to cramp.  

My audiobook distraction? Useless. Motivational music? Empty noise. Nothing external helped.  

Why We Push Through Discomfort

This is the point, isn't it? The point where easy choices disappear. The point where you face the raw reality of the commitment you made. Many of us hit the same point in our careers, relationships, and personal growth journeys in our 30s. The initial excitement fades, the path gets rough, and the desire to just stop is overwhelming.

But something kept me going. Not inspiration. Not motivation. Just... stubbornness? A refusal to quit? A need to finish the damn thing. I walked. I ran. I walked. I ran. 

Those last few kilometres were a blur of false peaks – gates that promised the end but lied. And then, finally, the real one. An unexpected surge of energy carried me across the finish line, tears streaming down my face. It was over.  

Leaving Something on the Road

In contrast to my tears, there was an ecstatic smile on my friend's face when he crossed the finish line. He looked like someone running towards something. I felt like I'd been running away from something – like I’d left some heavy baggage on that broken, desolate road.  

I don't know exactly what I left behind. Maybe self-doubt? Maybe the residue of poor choices? Maybe the belief that I couldn't handle discomfort? I don’t know what it was, but something shifted.

We pay money, sacrifice time, and endure pain for these arbitrary markers of success. Why? Because the race isn't just about the finish line. It's about confronting the wall. It's about the internal conversation when everything screams "stop." It's about proving to yourself that you can keep juggling – Mind (mental fortitude), Body (physical endurance), even Money (the investment in the race itself) – even when every ball feels like it's about to drop.  

Finishing that marathon didn't magically solve all my problems. But it clarified something: enduring chosen hardship builds resilience. It proves you can navigate the rough patches. It reminds you that internal commitment can carry you through even when external motivation fails.

What's Your Marathon?

Maybe your marathon isn't 42.2km. Maybe it's finally quitting that job that feels meaningless. Maybe it's building the discipline to take care of your health. Maybe it's finding the courage to build a real community.  

What challenge are you facing that feels like running through the Dirty Thirties? What are you running towards, or running away from? And most importantly, what will it take for you to keep going, even when everything tells you to stop?

Keep Juggling, Jessy

If you're navigating your own "quarter-life marathon" and feeling stuck, maybe it's time for a different kind of conversation. Subscribe for more reflections on juggling Mind, Body, and Money for a more meaningful life.