The Ones Who Walk You In

On finish lines, friendship, and the people who carry you when you can’t go it alone

Some races are hard because of hills or heat. Others are hard because of heartbreak.

I’ve been on both kinds of courses, and I’ve learned that the difference between giving up and getting through often comes down to someone else.

A few years ago, I was pacing the Milwaukee Marathon. My fellow pacer, in a move best described as “deeply un-pacerly,” ditched the pacing plan right from the start and just ran his own race. That left me solo to guide a group of strangers through 26.2 miles. It was upsetting and demoralizing. I soldiered on, but by Mile 24, I was fried. Done. Toast. My legs were quitting and so was my spirit.

But just when I was ready to throw in the pacing flag and walk it in, I saw a friend near the course. He didn’t run me in or drag me forward. He encouraged me. He believed I could finish strong, and said so. And somehow, I did. Right on time.

Then there was last year’s 50K in Tennessee. Ten miles in, pain shot through my leg. Every step became a limp. I didn’t want to quit. After all, we had driven hours to be there. But I also couldn’t see how I’d finish. And then my friend Andrea said, without hesitation:
“Let’s walk it in together.”

This will always be one of my favorite photos. Thank you, Andrea.

She spent twenty miles, in the cold Tennessee rain, walking beside me. Sacrificing her own time, her own race, so we’d both finish together. It was one of the kindest things anyone’s ever done for me. There was no glory in it for her. No finish line celebration or shiny time to chase. Just presence, friendship, and the quiet grace that she is known for.

That kind of support sticks with you. It reshapes the way you think about struggle. It softens the edges of failure and teaches you to look outward, even when everything in your body is screaming to shut down and fold inward. It reminds you that your race isn’t just about you (and for that matter, neither is your life).

I think about that a lot now, not just in races, but in all the little moments that hurt. When someone’s confidence cracks, or when they’re going through a loss they don’t want to name. When they’re hanging on by a thread and trying to act like they’re fine. We don’t always need to fix things. Sometimes we just need to walk with someone in the rain, even if it’s only for a few metaphorical miles.

We all have chances, daily chances, to be the one who turns it around for someone else. And the best part? You don’t have to be fast, or wise, or ready with a speech. You just have to show up and say the kind word or offer the quiet presence. Lend belief when someone’s run out of their own.

Because we don’t finish alone. Not in running. Not in life.

If this piece reminded you of someone who walked you through a tough stretch, maybe send them a thank you. And if it reminded you to be that someone, well, I’ll raise my coffee cup to that. You can fuel the writing (and the walking) right here: