26.2 miles of leadership lessons

I am blessed to regularly join in the celebrations of the leaders I work with. At TDL, "celebrate the wins" is a mantra for a reason: bad is stronger than good, so we intentionally notice, name, and honor the good. It's fuel for the race.

Recently, one of those wins left a leader breathless and the lessons took my breath away, too.

One of the leaders I regularly work with recently completed a marathon. That alone is impressive (I told her I get tired driving 26.2 miles,) but what stunned me was this: it was her first marathon. She had never run a marathon. She had never run a half-marathon. Not a 10K. Not even a 5K. She didn't even jog for exercise. And yet she decided to challenge herself with 26.2 miles…and she finished.

She told me it was the hardest thing she had ever done—even harder than labor (though she confessed to an easier labor than most and felt for those whose labor was more difficult.) There were many moments when quitting would have been easier. But the joy at the finish line was overwhelming. She texted me:

"I just did the most challenging thing I've ever done—physically, mentally, emotionally. There is nothing that compares to this. I'm so emotionally overwhelmed."

I celebrated with her. Then she added:

"At one point, women were told they were incapable of doing a marathon. Incapable. I just ran a marathon—walked parts of it—and I finished it. Period. I need to always remind myself: I can do it. There is nothing I can't do."

Transformative leaders celebrate the wins—but they also learn from them. In our sacred hour, I asked her what the marathon taught her. Her answers were profound.

• I can do anything. The biggest limits are usually the ones we place on ourselves.

• So many things suddenly seem small. When you're running a marathon, focus becomes survival. Only what matters survives.

• Sometimes you have to put yourself first. Energy, rest, and wellbeing aren't luxuries—they're leadership fuel.

• You can't go it alone. Even the strongest runners rely on aid stations, cheers from strangers, and text messages from loved ones. (Her three-year-old yelling "GOOOOO!" in a voice memo kept her going.)

• You don't have to be perfect. Finishing—not flawlessness—is the point.

• You can't listen to everyone. There were naysayers: You can't do it. It doesn't count unless you run every step. You'll quit. Not all opinions are useful.

She made two phone calls during the second half of the race—not to seek permission to quit but to get the support she needed to continue. She described her pain, her fatigue, her bad ankle.

So I asked the obvious question: "Why didn't you quit?"

Her answer was perfect:

"Because I had come too far to quit. And I don't mean today—I mean the months of training. The marathon was my 100th run. Ninety-nine training runs and then the marathon. I am not a quitter. The worst of it was already behind me."

Perspective.

When I asked what part of this applies to her leadership, she didn't hesitate:

"All of it."

Her 26.2-mile journey is more than an athletic milestone—it's an essay on leadership. Every leader faces doubt. Every leader faces long stretches of fatigue and unexpected pain. Every leader faces voices saying they can't. What her marathon revealed is that growth lies on just the other side of endurance. Often, when we face what can't be done, it gets moved to the list of things that can. Either way, the lessons are tremendous.

From 26.2 miles of leadership lessons:

• Set a bold goal that scares you a little

• Focus on what truly matters

• Putting your mask on first is not a selfish act

• Ask for help sooner than feels comfortable

• Celebrate progress instead of perfection

• Tune out the noise that doesn't serve you

And remember: the hardest part is often already behind you. Your job is simply to keep moving, one steady step at a time.

And celebrate the win.

You got this.