I just realized another week has almost passed, and I still haven’t reviewed last week. Last Sunday, I finished the Hokkaido Marathon in 5 hours and 19 minutes. Not a personal best, but I was really happy about it—because it was my very first marathon abroad, and I did it all by myself. Finishing a marathon is always a rewarding experience, but this one felt different. Even though I’ve completed marathons before, finishing a marathon in a new country, with no familiar faces around, made it even more meaningful to me.

That day, I wasn’t in great health. By the time I reached 10 km, I almost felt like I needed to quit. But I didn’t. I kept going and made it to the end, no matter what. I was so proud of myself. Crossing the finish line, I almost burst into tears—like a crazy cry I couldn’t hold back—but somehow, I swallowed it.

I didn’t know anyone in that city, not even in that country, yet I didn’t feel alone. The crowds were so warm, and I truly enjoyed my own company. No music, no distractions—just my footsteps, one after another, for more than five hours. It was just me and myself the whole way.

The feelings were overwhelming. Running that long, alone, in a foreign city brought so many emotions rushing in. And when I finally crossed that line, it felt like all the years I’d spent practicing, all the times I’d broken myself down and built myself back up, had led to this moment. Finishing a marathon once seemed impossible, but looking back, getting here felt like a long, long journey. Almost like another lifetime.

I’ve walked alone, struggled alone, carried self-doubt and all kinds of pain. For years, it felt endless, like torture that would never stop. But at that exact moment of finishing, I felt… perfect. Nothing else mattered. I felt I had lived a life worth being proud of. Maybe not perfect to anyone else, but good enough for me—as a woman, as myself.

Life is a long journey. Along the way, you get hurt, you feel blessed, and you survive. That’s what matters—you survive. Finishing a marathon was part of that survival. I survived the brutal heat, the body aches, the exhaustion. After 5 hours and 19 minutes, my legs were completely numb, sore for days. But back at the hotel, soaking in a bath, then napping deeply, I knew—I had changed.

I even started to think maybe one day I could write about running, just like my idol Haruki Murakami. I lost most of my toenails—probably because of shoes that didn’t fit well, or maybe something else. But I guess that happens to many runners, and honestly, I shouldn’t complain. I’ve been lucky enough not to suffer any major injuries through all these years.

Running made me who I am. Since I started, I’ve become more resilient, and more at peace with being alone—actually enjoying my own company. I’m deeply thankful for running. It turned possibilities into realities. It gave me confidence. It made me care about my own feelings more than ever.

That’s life, I think. I believe in myself now. I’ll keep working toward a better version of me, always looking for new possibilities. Life is full of ups and downs, but as long as I have this pillar—running—I know I have strength. Finishing a marathon is just one of the many milestones along the way. It’s the thing that steadies me, the thing that makes me better.

I hope you find something like that, too.

See you next week. Have a good one.