Two years ago, I started running.

Even 5 kilometres felt like a huge struggle 😂

Running had always felt like something that simply wasn’t meant for me. I’ve had several leg injuries throughout my life, I’m missing some muscle in my right leg because of one of them, and I carry a big scar on my knee from a childhood injury.

My legs have always been the weakest part of my body — so for most of my life, running was simply out of the question.

I started very slowly. For a long time, I ran 5–8 km just trying to teach my body what running even was. Then 10 km seemed impossible. Not impossible for other people — impossible specifically for me.

But slowly, slowly, I built it up.

Last year, I ran my first half marathon. Very slowly. 😅 But I did it.❤️

And this year, I started wondering what it would actually feel like to run a full marathon. 🏃

I had always admired marathon runners so much, especially the ones who could run those distances fast. They seemed like a completely different world, a world I never really considered myself part of.

But I didn’t want to know if I could run a marathon fast.

I just wanted to know what it feels like to run one. 🥺

So six months ago, the real marathon training began.

There were ups and downs. Hard runs. Heavy legs. Sore knees. Empty roads. Doubts. Days when I questioned the whole idea. And a lot of very, very slow kilometres.

Eventually, my goal became incredibly simple:

I just wanted to finish.

I didn’t care how fast or how slow. I didn’t care about the time. I just wanted to get to that finish line.

And yesterday, I did.

42.195 km. 🏁

6:33:17.

The last part was probably the most emotional.

By then, I was already outside the official cutoff. The roads were getting empty. Volunteers were packing up the water stations. At one point, I actually had to ask for water because there were so few runners left that nobody really expected more people to come through.

I saw some people give up around that point because they knew they were already outside the cutoff.

And I completely understood why.

But I couldn’t stop.

Because at that point, it wasn’t really about the race anymore.

It was me against me.

I didn’t care if I was officially part of the race anymore. I didn’t care about the clock. I just wanted to finish what I had started.

And I did.

One other runner even finished after me. ❤️

For some people, 6:33 might be a very slow marathon.

For me, it is one of the biggest things I have ever done.

Because I know where I started.

I know what my legs have been through.

I know how impossible 5 km once felt.

I know how impossible 10 km felt.

I know how far away 21 km seemed.

And I know that, for a long time, I genuinely believed running was something my body couldn’t do.

Yesterday, my weakest part became the part that carried me 42.195 kilometres.

And maybe that’s the biggest thing I’m taking away from this journey:

My legs might be my weakest part.

But they can still take me incredibly far.

Across roads I never thought I’d run.

Across distances I never thought I’d reach.

And towards journeys I once thought weren’t meant for me.

I started running to see if I could.

Yesterday, I found out.

I can. ❤️🏃‍♀️