Marathon Miracle

As a psychologist, I have spent years helping clients understand the power of thoughts. Cognitive Behavioral Therapy (CBT) teaches us to challenge negative, unhelpful thoughts and replace them with more rational, productive ones. But there’s something that isn’t always emphasised enough in CBT, and it’s something I learned in a very painful way: sometimes the most helpful thought isn’t the one you actually believe. It’s the one you harness, even when only a tiny part of your mind even thinks it might be true.

I didn’t come to this realisation through textbooks or clinical experience, but in a moment of panic at the start line of a marathon for which I was entirely unprepared.

The Marathon

The story begins when I agreed to be part of a relay team for the Edinburgh marathon, in 2008. My section was a manageable five to eight miles. As luck would have it, two teammates dropped out a month before the race. At first, I felt a real sense of relief - my knees were already damaged, and I was someone who only ran for about 20 minutes on a treadmill.

Then, two weeks before the event, a charity T-shirt arrived through my letterbox, a reminder that we were running for a charity and one very close to my heart. I’m not usually superstitious but I didn’t feel I back out. I decided to run the marathon. I told only one person about my decision - someone who, whilst supportive, thought I was crazy.

I did what any responsible, untrained runner would do and Googled “how to run a marathon”. I found Hal Higdon’s training plan that suggested tapering your runs two weeks before the race and eating pasta. So, with less than ideal preparation, I went on one hour-long run, got sore knees and, for the rest of the time, focused on carbo-loading.

The Power of Panic and Self-Talk

It was only as I stood at the starting line that the naivety of my decision hit me - like a tidal wave. I had never run any more than a half-marathon - and that was several years before this. 26.2 miles, in my mind, was something you drove, not ran. My heart raced, whilst my mind spiralled with unhelpful thoughts: “I’ll only make it a few miles,” “This is a terrible idea,” “I’m going to collapse.”

These weren’t fleeting worries; they were thoughts I really believed. I tried to challenge them, repeating the facts I knew: “I ran a half marathon three years ago,” “My cardiovascular fitness is actually pretty good, according to gym tests,” “I ran for an hour two weeks ago.” But honestly, only about 1% of my brain believed these reassurances. The other 99% was convinced I was about to fail.

Here’s the point: even though I didn’t believe those helpful thoughts, I tried my best to focus on them anyway, forcing my mind to latch onto that 1% of my brain that might even begin to believe them: “Harness the helpful thought.”

The Kindness of Strangers

Thirteen miles in, someone asked me how I was doing. “I’ve never run further than this, so I don’t really know,” I replied, truthfully. By mile 21, every step was agony. By mile 22, I had stopped, starting to cry on the side of the road, overwhelmed by pain. I had convinced myself I couldn’t go any further.

That’s when a stranger, a fellow runner and hugely kind man, stopped and said to me, “You don’t stop running now. You bargain with yourself. Walk for 15 seconds, then run again.” Without giving me time to think, he counted down, before pulling me along with him. And there I was – running again.

It wasn’t about challenging my unhelpful thoughts anymore; it was about focusing on the sliver of belief that I could just get to the next lampost. The crowds offering jelly babies and clapping helped too. I remember another runner, a woman in a red t-shirt, encouraging me to keep going. I crossed the finish line faster than I ever imagined I could - and I couldn’t quite believe it.

Learning to Harness the Helpful Thought

Looking back on that day, I realised something fundamental about the way in which we need to handle unhelpful thoughts, especially in therapy. In CBT, we often focus on challenging and replacing negative thoughts. But clients often say, “I can challenge my thinking, but it doesn’t change the way I feel.” The vital learning is to normalise this – we often don’t believe the thoughts at all when we start out -  so new need to push ourselves to find even a 1% belief in the helpful thought and focus on that. We can’t allow the 99% of disbelief to dominate.

In my marathon experience, only the tiniest part of my mind believed I could do it. But by focusing on that, I was able to start out. And with the emotional support of a very generous stranger, I was able to finish.

Applying This Lesson in Therapy

Now, when I work with clients, I don’t just encourage them to challenge their thoughts. I remind them that the most helpful thought is likely not the one they believe, but it’s the one they need to focus on. Even if only 1% of their brain believes it, that’s enough to make a difference. It’s about training our minds to stay with the helpful thought, no matter how fragile it feels.

We often think change has to come from believing in a new way of thinking, but sometimes change starts with acting as if you believe it. Over time, that 1% grows, and with practice, you begin to feel the shift – sometimes helped along by the emotional support of others - even the kindness of total strangers. Sometimes, that’s all you need to keep moving forward.

Post note

Ironically, eight years after this first marathon, I stood on the start line of the Edinburgh marathon again, similarly unprepared. But this time, I knew I’d done it before - and that made it easier – familiarity helps anxiety! And I finished again – much less quickly, but for a brilliant cause. Someone who wins all prizes hands down for her ability to harness the helpful thought: Kira the Machine. To read her story, a Google search is all that’s needed