just be you.

I had been trying to think of what to write about next, which is why I haven’t posted in a little while. One of the runners I coach recently asked if there was a new blog up for him to read, and I told him no…I just hadn’t figured out what I wanted to write about yet. He gave me an idea, and immediately I was like, okay yes, that’s it. Shoutout to Day for the help! I love that these connections go beyond the typical athlete/coach relationship and turn into friendships. Honestly, the running world and community are just the best.

So, here we go…
Expectations.

Since the start of this marathon journey, my goals and expectations have been set high. But let’s be real, that’s nothing new. I’ve always held myself to an extreme standard, sometimes to the point of unhealthy pressure. Even as a little girl, perfectionism ran deep. If I wasn’t perfect, I felt like I wasn’t enough.

I still remember the first time I got a “bad” grade, okay, it was a B+, and I cried. I was devastated. I had gone so long getting straight A’s that it felt like I had failed. But with time, I realized that B+ taught me more than the A’s ever did. It showed me that I was okay even when I wasn’t “perfect.” It taught me grace. That if I tried my best, even without perfection, I was still worthy.

As I went through college, the lessons stacked up. Injuries, personal life struggles, the occasional C on a brutal chemistry exam, all of it chipped away at that rigid perfectionism. Each imperfect moment forced me to adapt and grow. I became tougher, more resilient, more me. I learned to trust my gut even when things felt impossible. And every time, that gut instinct pulled me through.

Fast forward to my final year at the University of Utah. That was when I truly started to thrive. I became more well-rounded, more present in my own life. I worked a part-time job, went out more, explored Utah, and just enjoyed the little things. For the first time, I wasn’t obsessing over running or whether I’d land a contract. I had peace knowing that if running didn’t work out, I had other paths: PA school, nursing school, something else. And ironically, that freedom led to some of the best running of my life.

When people asked me why things were clicking that year, I’d say: because I just stopped caring so much in the best way. I let go of suffocating expectations and just ran free. I still get chills thinking about my 31:48 at Stanford. That night I felt unstoppable, no fear, no doubts, no weight on my shoulders. Just running like Emily. And that’s the version of myself I want to find again.

A couple weeks ago in a session with my sports psych, we dug into my best races. I listed them out: the one I ran sick, the one after being knocked down with COVID, the Houston half where I fell at the start and laid there for 30 seconds before deciding to keep going, and that Stanford 10k where I hadn’t wanted to race at all. What did they all have in common? Lowered expectations.

Because of circumstances, being sick, falling, not even planning to race, I went into each of those races with nothing to lose. No pressure, just the mindset of let’s see what I can do. I even joked with my sports psych, “Maybe I just need to trip at the start of Chicago and I’ll be good.” But underneath the joke, I realized the real lesson: I need to lower expectations from within without relying on chaos or outside circumstances to free me from pressure.

A couple days later, Day texted me, “A person with nothing to lose is the most dangerous kind of person.” He was talking about how you never get to run your first marathon again—when it’s your first time, you really do have nothing to lose. That idea has been echoing in my mind as I get closer to race day.

So as I head toward Chicago, yes, I have big goals. But I’m loosening the grip on expectations. Instead of the “I have to run this time” mindset, I’m shifting into “let’s see what I can do.” That’s a much more exciting place to be. It’s the magic of racing: going in with wide eyes, running your own race, staying positive, and seeing what unfolds.

And come on, it’s my very first marathon. No matter what happens, when I cross that finish line it will be a personal best. And yes, I’ll definitely be crying. Like I said, when do you ever get to do something for the first time again? Never. That’s the beauty of it.

Of course, I still have doubts. Can I hold pace for 26.2 miles? Will my nutrition go smoothly? What happens if I hit the wall? But the difference is, I’m learning to be okay with that uncertainty. I’m choosing to trust. Trust my training, trust the mental work I’ve been doing (even when the positive thoughts feel forced, apparently that’s a sign it’s working, lol), trust that I already have everything I need inside me.

Because at the end of the day, all I can do is show up, run my race, and just be Emily.