Like the marathon, life can sometimes be difficult, challenging and present obstacles, however if you believe in your dreams and never ever give up, things will turn out for the best.

When life hurls lemons at you, I believe there are two ways to return the serve: Lay down and let the sourness blind you or strap on your running shoes and boot those lemons back. Running was my way of escaping the mental mess as my outside world was crashing down. Those mornings spent pounding the pavement helped to clear the negative clutter in my head. The more I ran, the better I felt. The better I felt, the healthier I ate. And soon I started seeing the world in a brand new (leaner) light.

I take off one day a week. Usually on those days I don't wear a running watch and I don't wear running shoes. Not because I don't want to be reminded of running, but I just think, 'Okay, today you're a normal person. Don't stretch, don't roll on a golf ball, don't ice, just be normal.' Taking that one day a week keeps me in check and reminds me that there's more to life than competing in marathons. Also, when I know that off day is coming, I can push myself harder in training on a day-to-day basis. Because I know I'm getting time off in a couple more days.

Successful distance running draws on many traits. Speed is a gift from our parents. Physical strength helps, as do leanness of the body and efficiency of movement. Mental strength – sometimes defined as a 'high pain threshold' – plays a big role, as does a strong motivation to succeed. But no trait better defines a distance runner or is admired by runners than endurance. This is the ability to persist, to go the distance, and come back for thousands of tomorrows. The best one-line statement ever written about distance running didn't come from a coach or author. It came from an anonymous ad writer for the Nike shoe company, who coined the phrase 'there is no finish line.' As a runner, you aren't looking for places to stop but for ways to keep going. You greatest victory doesn't come at the end of any race but in running that never ends.

Somebody once asked me what I would do when I could no longer run. During the 10 minutes of silence that followed, I realized I had never even considered that possible. That was the most depressive question anyone ever asked me!

You feel like if you're taking time off you didn't really earn it. But if you come out of a rested state, you perform better. I was amazed I had so much pop in my legs. After having trained so hard for so long and looking at other athletes, thinking, 'I trained 10 times harder than these guys and they're killing me in races,' you learn that more is not always better.

It hasn't always been smooth sailing. There have been many times when I have struggled in my running. I've dealt with injuries. I've wilted under pressure to perform. But through it all, running has always been a relief and a sanctuary—something that makes me feel good, both physically and mentally. Which is why I want to help other people fall in love with running. For me it's not so much about the health benefits. Those are great, but I believe that the best thing about running is the joy it brings to life.

A run begins the moment you forget you are running.

Running is a 'no B.S.' sport. You earn the success you achieve. There's no way to fake it. You must do the work, put in the time. There is no other way.

I believe in using races as motivators. It's hard to keep an exercise program if you don't have a significant goal in sight.

Don't be concerned if running or exercise will add years to your life, be concerned with adding life to your years.

Normally I recommend that runners do their long runs anywhere from 30 to 90 or more seconds per mile slower than their marathon pace. This is very important. The physiological benefits kick in around 90-120 minutes, no matter how fast you run. You'll burn a few calories and trigger glycogen regenesis, teaching your muscles to conserve fuel. Running too fast defeats this purpose and may unnecessarily tear down your muscles, compromising not only your midweek workouts, but the following week's long run. Save your fast running for the marathon itself. There are plenty of days during the rest of the week, when you can run race pace.

I always loved running... it was something you could do by yourself, and under your own power. You could go in any direction, fast or slow as you wanted, fighting the wind if you felt like it, seeking out new sights just on the strength of your feet and the courage of your lungs.

It's an odd thing, when your body says no and your mind and your spirit say yes. It's frightening and empowering and clarifying and beautiful all at once. It was the past year of my life, shortened into a span of 26.2 arduous miles. It was the culmination of experiences, the knowledge that my body can be pushed pas its breaking point, just like my heart.

 If I am still standing at the end of the race, hit me with a board and knock me down, because that means I didn't run hard enough.

It feels good sometimes—old fashioned, wholesome and gratifying—to do work that isn't on a computer. I need some kind of distraction, some kind of release. Running has been helpful, making myself ache in a physical way to release the emotional—kind of like an acupuncture needle. My running group here is in a phase our coach calls 'threshold training,' which is basically his foundation for strength and endurance. Threshold pace differs for everyone, depending on your fitness and experience. So we hold steady right at the spot where it hurts, but without crossing over into real pain. Kind of like a physical therapist or masseuse who finds the exact spot that is killing you and jabs her finger right there and holds it while you pant, sweat and squirm. If she pokes there long enough, eventually the discomfort becomes tolerable. I guess that's the point of threshold training—find your point of discomfort and work right there until you eventually acquire a vague sense of comfort. I'm glad to be here right now, poking at my threshold. I need to do this. I need the hurt, the understanding, the work and the metaphor. I want to get more comfortable being uncomfortable. I want to get more confident being uncertain. I don't want to shrink back just because something isn't easy. I want to push back, and make more room in the area between I can't and I can. Maybe that spot is called I will.

Running is a thing worth doing not because of the future rewards it bestows, but because of how it feeds our bodies and minds and souls in the present.

Let's just say it and be done with it. Racing hurts. But here's another truth: having put in the effort to prepare for a race and then not giving it your all hurts even more. The first kind of hurt goes away in hours or a day. The second kind of hurt can last a lifetime.

Although we runners claim to be minimalists, we're good at making running complicated. It has to be the right time of day, the temperature just so, shoes broken in but not broken down, iPod fully charged, not to mention the pressure of making a time goal. It's a wonder we ever get out the door. It wasn't always this way. Once upon a time, most of us ran with pure intentions - no race to train for, no PR to beat - just the expectation of feeling better for having done it.

If you find yourself saying, 'I can't run unless...' or 'I can't run without...' your running is being dominated by ritual clutter, says Julie Morgenstern. 'Ritual clutter comes from making something into such a production that the activities and thoughts associated with that thing become almost paralyzing,' Morgenstern says. 'You've externalized your power to run with all these conditions. You need to disengage your running from all those thoughts and say, 'I can run. Period.'

Decluttering your running - stripping it of physical and mental accretions and streamlining your routine - will help you rediscover that 'spirit of running.' As a result, you'll enjoy running more, and you'll probably do it more often.

It is not the finish line that matters. It is the struggle that went before.