I recently ran my first marathon—a grueling experience that left me with far more than just cramped quadriceps and a medal.

For three months, I ran 3 to 8 miles during the week, with Sundays reserved for steadily increasing long runs.

During these long runs, I often questioned why I chose such a time-demanding goal, especially when life already felt sufficiently full and erratic. Yet, I stuck with it, running each week. As time passed, I began to notice a few lessons that applied beyond running.

The mindset required for marathon training mirrors the mentality needed to tackle many of life’s challenges.

Here are five universal lessons I learned from marathon training:

1) Better timing isn’t coming.

When I first considered running a marathon, my brain met me with predictable resistance:

Why run a marathon now? You’re in Buenos Aires with countless social opportunities at your fingertips. Interesting destinations are just a couple hours away.

You can do this when life is more predictable. There will be a better time to train.

At first, these excuses seemed valid, but I soon realized my long-term goals offered no promise of future stability.

If I waited for the perfect moment, one without sacrifice or resistance, I would likely never run a marathon.

Understanding that, I accepted the sacrifices. I had to stop drinking for better recovery, turn down ski trips in the Andes, skip excursions to Brazil, and limit nights out with friends in a city I love.

It wasn’t perfect timing, but the accomplishment felt even more rewarding because of it.

2) It’s easier to change your identity than change your habits.

As a self-diagnosed gym rat, the thought of swapping gym time for hours of cardio was sickening. The gym had been a non-negotiable part of my routine for nearly a decade, giving me peace and clarity. Losing that felt like a huge sacrifice.

These never-ending runs were going to clash hard with my typical lifestyle of late dinners, Thursday night jazz clubs, weekend getaways, and groggy mornings.

I enjoyed that lifestyle.

It quickly became clear I couldn’t have both. I had to accept that for those three months, I was no longer a gym-goer, a night owl, or a casual drinker.

I was a runner.

That new identity became the lens by which I would make my decisions.

I would lose muscle, miss fun nights out, and choose water over wine.

Building habits like early mornings, long runs, and quiet nights is easier when they align with your identity, rather than working against it.

3) The most daunting tasks are just made up of smaller tasks.

With a 13-week window to train, I started by drafting a plan. Writing down '6 miles' three times a week and '20 miles' on Sundays made my legs ache just thinking about it.

How was I supposed to run a marathon in 3 months when the furthest I had ever run was half that distance? I vividly remembered crossing the half marathon finish line thinking, "I don’t need to double that."

Nonetheless, I started running and followed my plan (inspired largely by BPN and Nick Bare). Weekday runs became a staple. Sundays arrived, and though I often dragged my feet, I got it done.

It wasn’t until I ran my first 14 miles that I realized the power of incremental progress. It was still tough, but no harder than a half marathon had once been.

My perspective shifted then. I wasn’t trying to run a marathon in 3 months—I was just trying to run 10 miles that Sunday. Once I crossed that threshold, I focused on 12 miles, then 14, then 16.

When 18 and 20 miles came up, they were far less intimidating than they had been at the start.

Great accomplishments are built on smaller milestones.

These less notable milestones are the ones nobody will see, but they’re arguably more important than the end result.

4) You’re the only one responsible for getting the work done.

Long runs are essential for building endurance for the 26.2 miles ahead.

On the morning of my 18-mile run, I woke up to a cold winter day, bundled deep into my mattress. All I wanted was to stay in bed and catch up on sleep.

Eventually, I sat up, thinking of ways to avoid the 3-hour jog ahead.

It’s in those quiet morning moments that mental battles are the toughest. In that silence, I had a simple realization:

My legs needed to train this distance, and I was the only one who could do it.

There’s no outsourcing. No one else can lighten the load. The only way to condition your body for a marathon is to do the work.

You either do it or don’t. The choice is solely yours.

To make things more difficult, no one will congratulate you either for completing the run. Nor will they congratulate you for any others completed during the week.

No one will see your progress or the daily battles for self-discipline in your mind.

Most people will not see your progress, and even if they do, they won’t care until the medal is hanging from your neck.

This is not because people are cruel, but because they’re conditioned to celebrate results, not effort.

The journey can be lonely, so be sure you really want the result.

5) Don’t be afraid to ask for support.

I ran most days solo. I wasn’t opposed to training with others, but my schedule in Buenos Aires was unpredictable, and coordinating with others took as much time as just running alone.

I didn’t feel like I was missing anything. My rhythm was set, and I enjoyed the solitude of running without talking.

As the intensity of my training increased though, those solo days became harder.

That’s when my community showed up.

My girlfriend biked the last 10 miles of my 16-mile run to lift my spirits.

For my 18-miler, I joined friends who invited me to run with them in the city’s nature reserve.

When 20-miles hit, my friend Manu was there to run it with me.

On race day, the support was even more overwhelming. Nearly every friend I had made in Buenos Aires came out to push me forward, with some running the hardest stretches alongside me.

Despite living in Buenos Aires for less than a year, I had more friends cheering me on than I would have in any city stateside.

Training for that marathon showed me we’re capable of pushing our limits far more than we think.

Just because we can do it alone though doesn’t mean we have to.