How Marathon Training is Helping me Through Infertility

Sometimes life puts you on a path so you can learn lessons that you will need at unexpected times. If you follow me on Instagram, this post might seem confusing as I've had a good outcome with IVF so far. And I'll explain soon. The truth is I'm really struggling emotionally and I think of my running days almost everyday to help me going.

About 6 years ago, I was at a point in my life where I didn’t know what was next. I was single, didn’t know what was my purpose in life; what I wanted to do with it; what would make me happy.

At this vulnerable time of my life, I had recently joined a running club to try and make friends in this new town I had just moved to and was listening to this girl Melissa talk about the half marathon she had just ran this past week end.

She wasn’t the stereotype you would have in mind when thinking about a runner. She was just this regular gal with feminine curves yet she just crushed 13.1 miles.

That was the “light bulb” moment for me! I was going to run a half marathon.

Now to put this in perspective, I had always HATED running! I did everything I could in

high school to avoid the running team. See in France, the “sport class” doesn’t offer many options. The first part of the year is dedicated to one sport and then the second part of the year to an other. You don’t get to choose. Except this one year, we had to choice between running and "Gymnastics - Uneven Bars". I tried for the gymnastics group of course…

Well it didn’t last long and on my first attempt I fell off and ended up with a dislocated elbow….

So yes, running had always been torture for me and I avoided it as much as possible.

So when I decided to challenge myself and run 13.1 miles, it was really out of despair. I needed to prove myself that I was strong, independent, motivated and could do anything I had set myself to do.

Fast forward a few months, I crossed the finish line after 2 hours and 45 painful minutes. Even if I had to take a lot of walking breaks for the last 2 miles, I crossed the finished line.

I will never forget the emotions I was feeling while waiting in my corral for the race to start. I just wanted to cry… Because when you train for a race, you know that getting to that start line is the most difficult part. Weeks and weeks of getting up early, sacrificing Sundays for long runs, days of muscle pain, and forever schedules revolving around training schedule, rain or shine.

Because one was not enough, I proceeded over the following 3 years to run 12 more half marathons, with more or less success, but always feeling amazed by the accomplishment. For each race, when the split for half-marathon and full-marathon was approaching I would always tell myself: "I have nothing left in me, how are some people running twice as much as I am today. There is just no way I will ever run a marathon”.

Well spoiler alert; I did.

In November 2015, I crossed the finish line of the Las Vegas Marathon, my husband by my side.

I had 3 goals:

1. Finish

2. Not being pushed by the police car closing the race

3. Complete the race in less than 5 hours.

I accomplished all 3 goals.

It may sound easy like that, but the months leading up to the race were filled with hours and hours of training sessions in the rain, the freezing cold, the snow. One time I ran in the darkness of a natural preserve using my phone for guidance because I had started a little late and running 18 miles takes a while… I was doing a big loop so I couldn’t just turn around…

The stupid things you do when you have a goal in mind.

Those months of training were painful. The race was painful. My husband volunteered to run the race with me (he’s a far better runner than I am) and I truly believe I only finished this race because he stayed by my side.

The first 22 miles were somewhat OK. I had decided on a strategy to take a 30 seconds walking/refueling break every 2 miles and that worked really well for me.

But the last 4.2 miles were hell.

My legs were heavy, my feet hurt, I couldn’t breathe and I knew I needed at least 42 minutes to run the remaining distance at my normal pace. So at this state of fatigue, I was probably going to need an hour to finish. An HOUR people. 60 more minutes of torture when you don’t think you have the strength to even walk for one more second. 60 more minutes of mind games, self motivation followed by complete despair, yet still pushing through.

I remember the sign from some of the people cheering the runners. This one said “When you can’t run with your legs, run with your heart”.

Let me tell you, that’s a bad advice… Unless you don’t mind crying while you run.

And so even when I thought I had nothing left in me to give, I just kept going, repeating to myself why I was doing this, how proud I would be once I crossed the finish line, how the pain will be long forgotten once that medal, proof of my accomplishment, would be around my neck. Even if I could feel the bones in my hips rubbing against each other and the blisters on my toes about to burst, I JUST. KEPT. GOING.

Because I owed it to myself. Because giving up was not an option. Because I hadn’t come this far to only come this far.

This lesson I learned in the middle of the night in Vegas (It was a night race) is what I hold on to every day on this fertility journey. When it gets hard, when you think you have nothing else to give, when you want to stop the pain, when you don’t know why you are doing this anymore, you JUST.KEEP.GOING.

You owe it to yourself.

So today, as I lay in bed worried about what is yet to come, I remind myself that all I can do, is continue to put one foot in front of the other and push through.