Growing up I was an athlete. While being a perfectionist and competitive by nature helped me reach some goals, it has also held me back. There were times in my life where I avoided things because I was afraid to fail. In 2009, I took a chance and trained for a ½ marathon. Despite playing multiple sports, long distance running has never been “my thing”. I was nervous to participate for fear of failure, but I put these thoughts aside and I trained. I followed a plan, I was consistent, and I didn’t get hurt. When race day rolled around I was nervous but I felt I had prepared well. I had been experiencing some mild health issues at the time which had altered my diet, but I didn’t worry too much about it. I woke up the morning of the race with my legs feeling like lead. I attributed this to being nervous and over-thinking things. I started the race hoping I just needed to get into my rhythm, but I never did. I trudged on for 12 of the 13.1 miles willing my non-cooperative body to keep moving. Just past mile 12, there was a hill. I knew there was no way my body would carry me to the finish line if I tried to run up it. My entire body was letting me down in a way it never had during any of my training runs. As I began to walk, a medic asked if I was okay. I stubbornly said yes, but when asked to walk a straight line, I couldn’t come close. He checked my blood pressure, oxygen, and blood sugar, all of which were too low. I had to stop. My body had failed me. I had failed.