"But Why Do You Do This?"

Last weekend, I crossed the finish line at the BMO Half Marathon — lungs burning, legs heavy, and heart wide open. There's a photo of that moment, and if you’ve seen it, you’ve seen the pain on my face. What you can’t see is everything it took to get there.

This weekend is Mother’s Day — and it’s not lost on me that the two are connected.

Because last month, I was talking to my mom after a physio appointment, casually mentioning the race and some lingering soreness. She paused and asked me gently: “Why do you do this?”

Not with judgment — just honest curiosity. And truthfully, I didn’t have a quick answer.

Not because I didn’t know… but because the real answer is layered. It's not about the kilometers.

More Than a Finish Line Photo

That photo at the finish line?It’s raw. Real. A snapshot of the exact moment I left nothing behind.

But it’s not what makes the moment powerful.

It’s everything you don’t see.

The Grit That Doesn’t Make the Highlight Reel

You don’t see the early mornings before the house wakes up. The solo runs in the rain. The sacrifices that meant missing out, showing up sore, or saying no to things I wanted to say yes to.

You don’t see the quiet wins: The day I ran further than I thought I could. Or the morning I got out of bed and laced up when staying in was the easier option.

We live in a world that celebrates outcomes — medals, finish lines, before-and-afters. But true strength? It’s built in the hundred quiet starts no one claps for.

You Don’t Have to Be a Runner to Get It

This isn’t really a story about running.

Because not everyone runs. But everyone knows what it’s like to chase something bigger than themselves.

A dream. A healing. A new chapter.And that chase? It takes something deeper than motivation.

It takes consistency. Commitment. Grit.

It Was Never About the Clock

You might wonder what my finish time was. But it doesn’t matter.

This wasn’t about a stopwatch — it was about showing up. For myself. For the promise I made to become the kind of woman who keeps showing up, even when it’s hard.

That face at the finish line?

That wasn’t just pain — it was power.

The moment I stopped wondering if I was ready and started owning the fact that I already was.

Your Race Might Look Different — But It’s Still Yours

You don’t need to run 21.1km to understand this.

Maybe your race is:

• Rebuilding after burnout

• Healing from something unspoken

• Learning to love your body again

• Simply showing up every day with intention

Whatever it is — it’s yours. And it’s valid. And it’s worthy of everything you’re putting into it.

This Is Why I Do It

So, Mom — if you're still wondering…

This is why I run. Not for the medal. Not for the time on the clock. But for the quiet, private victory of becoming who I’m meant to be.

For the promise I made to myself. For the strength I found in the showing up.

And if you're in your own season of becoming — whatever that looks like — I hope this reminds you that every finish line is built on a hundred quiet starts.

With love and grit,

Shannon