Online Run & Mindset Coaching - Before My First Race

What I Wish Someone Had Told Me Before My First Race

Three first times. Three start lines. A whole lot of nerves. Here's what I know now that I didn't know then.

If you're reading this the night before your race, hi. I see you. You've probably checked your gear bag three times, looked up your wave start time twice, and had at least one moment today where you thought: am I actually ready for this?

I've been on that start line. Three times, in three different races, at three different distances. And every single time, I stood there with butterflies in my stomach, self-doubt in my head, and a very real question rattling around: what if I can't do this?

So let me tell you what I wish someone had told me before each of those races. Because a lot of unnecessary suffering could have been avoided. Not the good kind of suffering, like the last 5K of a hard effort. The kind that sneaks in and robs you of an experience you've spent months earning.

Start Line Number One: Lausanne, Switzerland

I was 16 years old. It was a quarter marathon, 10.5 kilometres, in one of the most beautiful cities in the world. I had no idea what I was doing. I just knew I was nervous, I wanted to finish, and I was very aware that my legs felt weird.

That's the thing about your first race: everything feels unfamiliar. The adrenaline, the crowd, the pace feeling off in the opening kilometres because your body is flooded with cortisol. Nobody told me that was normal. I thought something was wrong with me.

Nothing was wrong with me. Nothing is wrong with you either.

Start Line Number Two: Vancouver, at the Seawheeze Half Marathon

I was 23. It was the Lululemon Seawheeze Half Marathon in Vancouver, which, if you know it, you know it's an experience unlike any other. The energy is electric. The course is stunning. And I was still just as nervous as I had been at 16, if not more! It wa my first 21.1km!!

I remember thinking I should feel more confident by now. I'd run before. I'd trained. But the nerves showed up anyway, right on time, doing exactly what nerves do.

Here's what I understand now that I didn't then: nerves don't mean you're not ready. Nerves mean you care. They mean this matters to you. And something that matters to you is worth being nervous about. The goal isn't to eliminate the nerves. The goal is to stop letting them convince you that you're not capable.

Lululemon Seawheeze - my first half marathon

Nerves don't mean you're not ready. They mean this matters to you. And something that matters to you is worth being nervous about.

You've done the work. The nerves are just the signal that you know it.

Start Line Number Three: The Vancouver Marathon

I was 29 years old. My first full marathon. And let me tel you, those nerves were on a whole other level.

I had set a time goal that, looking back, I had absolutely no business setting on my very first marathon attempt. It was arbitrary. It was based on nothing real. And when race day came and went, I crossed the finish line 20 minutes slower than I wanted to be.

Everything hurt. I was exhausted. And instead of standing there thinking holy hell, I just ran a marathon before I turned 30, I stood there thinking about the gap between my goal and the clock.

I didn't celebrate. Not really. And I regret that more than I can say.

Because the facts are, only about 1% of people on this planet will ever run a marathon. I was one of them. You might be one of them this weekend. And the number on the clock does not change that. It does not change what you sacrificed to get there, what you showed up for on the early mornings and the late nights, on the days you didn't want to go but went anyway.

The Work Is Already Done

When you stand on that start line this weekend, the training is finished. You cannot add to it. You cannot take anything away. Every long run, every tempo, every morning you dragged yourself out the door, every workout you did when you really didn't feel like it: it's all in the bank.

The only thing left to do is go run your race!

And when you cross that finish line, I want you to look back on the day and notice what you actually remember. Because I can almost guarantee it won't be the time on the clock. It'll be the cheer station that made you laugh out loud. The volunteer who handed you water and you actually made eye contact with. The teammate you spotted on course. The ridiculous costume someone was wearing at kilometre 30. The feeling of turning the final corner and seeing the finish line for the first time.

The time is just a number. The memory is yours forever.

The time on the clock will not change who you are or the work you put in to get to this day.

Coach's Corner

How to Set Your Goals (Even If Race Day Is Tomorrow)

Most runners set their goals with A at the top, like this: A goal is the best-case scenario, B is okay, C is a fallback. The problem? If the weather turns, your stomach flips, or the course fights you, your A goal is gone before kilometre five and you spend the rest of the race chasing something out of reach.

I flip the whole thing. Here's how I set goals with my athletes:

A Goal

Your minimum. Always a feeling, not a time. "To finish feeling strong." "To enjoy every kilometre." "To simply cross the finish line." This is the one that should always be within reach, no matter what the day throws at you. It's not a fallback. It's your foundation.

B Goal

A realistic stretch. Based on your training, your fitness, an average day. Something you could realistically hit if things go reasonably well. This is where most of your mental energy should sit on race day.

C Goal

The big scary one. Stars align, perfect conditions, everything clicks. This is your ceiling, not your floor. Chase it if the day allows. Let it go if it doesn't. Your A and B goals are waiting for you either way.

Setting goals this way means you almost always finish feeling like you succeeded, because your baseline is built on something real: the experience, the feeling, the act of showing up. The big time goals are still there. They just don't get to define whether you had a good day.

You Are Already Successful

Whether this is your first 5K, your first half, or your first full marathon: the work you did to get to that start line is the success. Everything from the finish line forward is a celebration of that work.

Go out there this weekend. Run your race. Thank the volunteers. High-five strangers. Soak it in.

And when you cross that finish line, no matter what the clock says, please celebrate. Your future self will thank you for it.

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