As a longtime writer covering running and triathlon, I occasionally get invited to some pretty incredible events. Most recently, the folks at Team Milk offered me the chance to experience Every Woman’s Marathon in Scottsdale, Arizona—including a race bib. Life has been life-ing lately, and I’ve been focused on strength training, so the idea of actually training for a marathon wasn’t remotely on my radar. But when you’re handed a free entry, you squeeze every ounce of fitness and muscle memory out of your body and give it your best shot. And that’s exactly what I did.

Disclaimer: As a lifelong runner and a running coach, I know it’s more than a little reckless to “just jump into” a marathon with minimal preparation. But once in a while, playing fast and loose with the marathon gods might just work out. Here’s how I got through it all.

1. Find a Running Buddy

Running solo is great. Running with a friend? Pure magic. The day before the race, I met Cindy—a fellow writer I’ve admired from afar for years. She was coming off an injury and planned to run four minutes, walk one, for as long as her body allowed. Since I had no goals and no real plan, I asked if I could tag along for the run-walk adventure. I knew that if I ran solo, I’d get into my head, run too fast at the start, and crash and burn by mile 11. But three hours into the marathon, we were still chatting, swapping stories, and casually making our way through the miles. Peak running joy.

2. Run/Walk Like a Pro

I’d heard of “Jeffing” (the run-walk method popularized by Jeff Galloway), but I’d never considered trying it myself…until race morning. And let me tell you—it was a revelation. No pressure. No rigid structure. Just a rhythm my body immediately embraced. Was it strange to take a walk break five minutes into a marathon? Absolutely. Did it go against every competitive fiber in my being? Of course. But did it help me last far longer than I should have? Without question. Consider me a Jeffing convert.

3. Feast Your Eyes

Marathons are visual candy stores if you’re willing to look up and take it all in—and the runners at Every Woman’s Marathon definitely understood the assignment. Chic coordinated sets, intricate braids, glitter everywhere. Instead of zoning out, I soaked in the energy, the creativity, the joy. I cheered strangers, complimented every cute outfit I saw (there were many), and embraced the electric, empowering vibe of a women-only marathon. It helped pass the time and reminded me that life’s too short not to stop and appreciate the sparkle.

4. Listen to Your Body

While I started my watch at the gun, I barely looked at it the entire time. I had no need to (Cindy was keeping track of our run/walk intervals and I wasn’t trying to stick to pace). There’s a special kind of freedom in running a marathon without being tethered to your wrist.  Without a training plan—or really any plan at all—I let my body take the lead. I tuned into my breath, settled into whatever rhythm felt natural, and allowed the miles to unfold on their own terms.

5. Recover Like a Champ

Once we crossed the finish line, I made a beeline for the post-race festival stretching stations, later slid into Normatec boots, and chugged chocolate milk like it was my job. I’d never been so intentional with post-race recovery, and it definitely paid off. By Tuesday (typically the day I feel my worst after a Sunday marathon), I was back in my strength class feeling remarkably normal. Chocolate milk (and all the other things) definitely does a body good.

6. Celebrate Your Wins

By mile 20, I was ready to ditch the walk breaks. Funny how the body works: my tight hip flexors actually felt better without stopping. So I ran. I passed runners, returned every cheer, and felt genuinely strong—something I’ve dreamed of feeling that late in a marathon. By the time I crossed the finish line, I was celebrating like I’d won the whole thing. Slowest marathon of my life? Yep. Happiest? Without a doubt. Not all victories are measured in minutes or seconds—some are measured in joy, connection, and the quiet confidence that you can do hard things…even if you’re a little underprepared.