Reading this quote recently prompted me to share why I choose to run:

“Running mirrors life in many ways. There are hills, challenges and moments when you want to stop, but you keep going. And just like in life, we don’t cross the finish line alone — we support one another along the way. That shared experience is what makes it so meaningful.” ~ Dr. Beatrix Ohienmhen, Northside Hospital, Atlanta Business Chronicle

Twelve years ago, two weeks before major surgery, my sons laced up and ran a 5k race with me.

They were teenagers and knew how much I loved running. And they knew, even if none of us said it out loud, that this would be the last time I’d be able run again for awhile. The cancer had come back.

I was aware of the exhausting road that lay ahead and months of not knowing what my body would be capable of again. That race with my sons was them saying (without words) that wherever I was headed…they were coming with me. And they stayed right next to me the entire time.

We finished that race together. I don’t remember my time. I do remember their faces.

What followed was one of the hardest year’s of my life. Facing a recurrence can take a mental toll on you. Surgeries. Chemo. Days where just getting up felt like an accomplishment. In those dark moments, it’s easy to get trapped in the wrong questions.

But somewhere in the middle of all that, I started asking “why“ differently. Not “why is this happening to me?” but “why am I trying so hard to get back out there?” Asking why in that way changed my perspective.

That helped pull my focus away from the darkness and place it toward the light ahead, and the hope of what was possible. The answer became clear: if I ever got the chance to run again, I would. Not for speed or for a medal. But to live fully, with intentional curiosity and gratitude for every single step.

I’ve run more races than I can count since then; mostly 5Ks, scattered through the years like little checkpoints. And this year, I’ll be running my 10th Peachtree Road 10k Race.

This one feels different. Not just because it’s a double-digit milestone for me, but because the Peachtree 10k race always falls on the 4th of July — and this year marks the 250th anniversary of our country’s founding. There’s a beautiful, collective energy in lining up with 60,000 other people on a morning that’s already deeply rooted in resilience, history, and showing up year after year. A nation’s history and my own small history of getting back up, intersecting on the same hot Atlanta morning.

I think about that race with my sons every single year on Peachtree morning. I remember how scared I was and how much it meant to not be alone. And just like back then, I won’t be alone at the finish line again this year. My husband will be there at the end waiting, cheering everyone on just as he has every time.

We’ll all be in good company out there. Even Dr. Ohienmhen is taking on the course herself again this year, practicing exactly what she preaches about shared experiences.

That’s it, isn’t it? When the hills get steep, whether it’s “Cardiac Hill” on Peachtree Road in Atlanta or a hill you’re facing in your own life, that’s the exact moment to Ask Why. Connect back to your purpose, and remember who you’re running for.

Whatever hill you’re facing right now — a diagnosis, a hard season, a goal that feels too far away — you don’t have to face it alone. Find your people. Let them run beside you, even if it’s slow. Even if you don’t know your time. Especially then.

Here’s to mile eleven.

Keep moving,
Brigitte

Have you ever had a mile you almost didn’t “run” — a moment you asked “why” and pushed through even when you weren’t sure you could?

If someone in your life needs this reminder today, share it with them. Sometimes the most powerful thing we can do is be beside someone else.