In early spring, a client came to me with a dream.

He wanted to run his first marathon, not just any marathon, but his bucket-list race. And he said something that stopped me:

“No one in my circle runs. I don’t have anyone to do it with me.”

So I said yes.

I hadn’t run a marathon since 2018. I still considered myself a distance runner, but I hadn’t touched that distance in years. And it felt like the perfect time to chase one of my own goals too, my first ultra, a 50K, just a couple weeks after his race.

So we trained.

From April through October, we showed up week after week:

• weekday runs on our own

• strength training at the gym

• and every single Saturday, long runs all over town, building up to 20 miles

It was a BIG commitment, early mornings, heat, humidity, sacrifices, but we did it.

Race day came.
We completed the Marine Corps Marathon together.
A couple weeks later, I traveled to Louisiana and completed my first 50K with my brother.

Months of purpose.
Months of structure.
Months of identity.

And then, suddenly…

My weekends were free.
Just like that, it was over.

One beautiful Saturday morning, I stood in my kitchen and cried. Not a cute, single-tear cry, an emotional, full-body “something is wrong but I don’t know what” kind of cry.

Nothing had happened.
But everything felt… off.

It hit me later that day:
I was in a success hangover.

I hadn’t run since coming back from the 50K. I didn’t need to, the big goals were done. My schedule had opened up. The pressure was gone. And I figured, “I’ll get back to it before spring when I have to show my arms again anyway.” (If you know, you know)

But underneath all of that?

I felt disconnected.
Unmotivated.
Drifting.

So I forced myself to go for a run that afternoon because I know, from experience, that fresh air, sunshine, and getting my heart rate up ALWAYS makes me feel better. Even when I don’t want to.

But the truth?
For the next few weeks, I floundered.

I went through the motions.
Skipped workouts with the excuse that “I was busy.”
Let other things take priority.
Told myself the weather was too cold.
(I don’t love running in the heat OR the cold, I’m never satisfied)

Then a client mentioned wanting to run a half marathon and asked if I’d run it with her. And I said yes… but it didn’t light me up.

Because it wasn’t my goal.

And without my own goal, I drifted.

Then came the Turkey Trot.

Earlier that week, one of my clients, a sprinter turned distance runner, had asked me if I ever actually raced a race. Not just ran it, but truly raced it.

I told him no, my goal has always been to finish, not to race.

He still calls himself a sprinter, even though he’s about to run his first marathon. I’ve been gently working on getting him to see himself as a distance runner now. Funny how we all cling to old identities long after we’ve outgrown them, even when our actions prove otherwise.

And that’s why what he said next hit me so hard:

“Yeah… if you don’t try, you can’t fail.”

That sentence echoed in my head all morning.

Because I live with a fear of failure every single day, but I still get up and do the hard things anyway.

So when the Turkey Trot started, something inside me said:
“Try.”

I started in the middle of the pack. I wasn’t dressed for speed. I had to weave around people, run through grass, and I even ran into someone who moved suddenly. But I ran as hard as I believed I could maintain without stopping.

And guess what?

I placed second in my age group.
Without speed training.
Without prep.
Just effort.

And that moment snapped me out of the fog.

It reminded me of something I’d forgotten:

I’m stronger than I think.
I just needed a target again.

So now I’m training for a FAST 5K while also training for the half marathon, but more importantly, I’ve got momentum again.

And here’s where this becomes about YOU.

You Don’t Need a Marathon to Feel a Success Hangover

As I reflected on what I’d been feeling, I realized something powerful:

Everything I felt, my clients feel long before they ever walk into my gym.

For them, it looks like:

• repeating the same year over and over

• quitting before they even start

• waiting for January to magically fix everything

• being overwhelmed by life and everyone else’s needs

• running on empty and calling it “normal”

• feeling like they can’t slow down or breathe

• bumping into expectations and guilt

• feeling like they’re failing, even though they’re trying so hard

Truth is… you don’t need a big goal to hit a success hangover.

You can hit one simply by:

• not having a goal

• drifting

• avoiding the steps you know you need to take

• staying stuck because life is just “too much”

Stagnation has a hangover, too, and a lot of people are living in it quietly.

Momentum Doesn’t Happen By Accident

What pulled me out wasn’t motivation.
It wasn’t inspiration.
It wasn’t waiting to “feel ready.”

It was one tiny, intentional decision.

And that’s how YOU break out of your hangover too:

Micro goals

Small wins rebuild trust with yourself.

Strength training as an anchor

Lifting gives you stability, identity, and confidence.

Movement as mood medicine

Your brain clears when your body moves.

Strength as identity

Your actions shape how you see yourself.

Accountability

You rise to the level of your systems, not your motivation.

Structure

Your calendar is a boundary, not a burden.

The Turkey Trot wasn’t about my time.
It was about remembering I still had another gear, a gear I forgot was there.

You do too.

What I Want For You This December

December is the month people drift the most.

They wait for January.
They repeat the same patterns.
They lose themselves in busyness and stress.

But you don’t have to.

This month, I want you to:

• choose one small goal

• take one small step

• get one workout on the calendar

• drink your water

• move your body

• anchor yourself again

Don’t drift into January.
Don’t start over again.
Just start NOW.

One step.
One decision.
One act of courage.

And if this hit home… if you saw yourself anywhere in this story…
Send me a message and tell me what your December anchor is.

And if you’re ready for structure, guidance, and a place to rebuild your momentum?

Book a no-sweat intro.
Let’s get you moving again.