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Tears ran down my face as I watched coverage of the 2021 New York City Marathon while nursing my one-month-old baby girl. We were both wearing diapers. I feared I would never get to the starting line -- let alone cross the finish line -- again.

As a new mom, it dawned on me that maybe I didn't want to lace my racing sneakers up -- and that realization was even more emotional. The jogging stroller that was top of my baby shower list was stuck in walk mode. Running didn't seem like an effective or efficient exercise at the time.

So when, about two years later, the Westin team offered me a spot to run the 2024 London Marathon, I shocked myself by instantly accepting. I wasn't close to ready to run and finish 26.2, but I had faith in myself that I could get there.

At the time, I threw in a sporadic run or two with weekly mileage I could count on one hand. A 5k or 10k would be far more realistic, but I said yes to an ambitious 26.2. I wanted to be a runner again, but the last two years I avoided it due to pelvic floor issues and leaks, if I'm being totally honest. My workout routine was primarily dumbbell strength training at home, Pilates, and shadow boxing.

I had about five months to prepare, doing essentially a couch-to-marathon. I dusted off my trusty marathon training book (Run Less, Run Faster) and completed the 5k speed test to find my starting point.

I also met my virtual run coach, Chris Heuisler, senior brand manager for Westin Hotels & Resorts and global run concierge, to make a plan. I admitted that dropping everything to focus all my energy on training wasn't happening and my only goal was crossing the finish line (ideally with mostly smiling miles). To my surprise, he said that was a healthy perspective and a great way to embark on a marathon. Score!

My training plan included three key runs (speedwork, tempo, and long) with specific distance and speed targets and two cross training sessions each week (a choice of rowing, indoor cycling, or swimming workouts).

I also kept up strength training about twice a week with Kelly Bryant, CPT, on the Future app. She also programmed pre-run stretches and exercises to help engage and relax my pelvic floor. Over the 16 weeks, I built up running volume with a peak of 33 miles in one week and one 20-mile long run. Slowly but surely, I worried less about leaking and focused on running form.

This mindset was a complete 180 for me. My previous three marathons, I had the luxury of shifting into full training mode, optimizing my runs, and pushing my speed/stamina limits. I had race prep tunnel vision. For example, I'd plan out my weekends around a long run with all the recovery time I could possibly want. (Stretching and napping and just lazy-ing around all day after 15 to 20 miles, check).

This go-around, marathon training was one of many things on my schedule and nowhere near the top priority. It came somewhere after caring for and spending time with my toddler daughter, working full time, and enjoying family vacations. That often meant more active recovery after long runs, or a full day of family activities before post-bedtime miles.

I love winter. The cold temperatures and snow bring me so much joy. And the thought of running through the frigid months was exciting. It was much more appealing than sweating through heat and humidity, which was all my experience prepping for a marathon.

However, the snow and ice were sometimes obstacles to completing runs safely. I knew sprinting on slick, uncertain surfaces was a recipe for injury and often opted for treadmill miles (and miles and miles) instead of trying and failing to find clear paths or running in the dark mornings.

On those days, I cued up a series on my iPad (Suits was my go-to), set the speed, and put one foot in front of the other until I hit my mileage. It was dangerously easy to hit pause and jump off. That was a whole new mental challenge to stick with the plan.

Testing the new Technogym Run treadmill certainly helped keep me motivated and running long after I wanted to call it quits. The machine had an oversized screen, quiet motor, and run program options. The standout was the slat belt, which offered shock absorption and real running feel. I missed it whenever I was traveling and settled for whatever model was in the hotel gym.

On a few occasions, I listened to my body and gave in when it needed fewer miles and more recovery. I even missed or altered some major runs, something I had never done before. I split my 20 mile long run into 10 in the morning and another 10 in the evening. My 18-miler turned into an eight and a 10 on consecutive days. My longest single run was only 16 miles, but my coaches kept encouraging me. I knew I could just keep going to complete the full distance come race day.

Winter training also introduced new cross training possibilities. Instead of my usual rowing, indoor cycling, and swimming as complementary cardio, I swapped in hours and hours on my snowboard. I called my beloved hobby "cross training" and most of the time it was effective. I worked my leg muscles, core, and cardiovascular system at high altitude on off-days and sometimes in addition to a run.

"Cross training is a phenomenal way to avoid injuries," Heuisler told me. "I'd argue your snowboarding benefited your training because it kept you happy and engaged. What I appreciate the most about snowboarding is the emphasis it puts on core strength, which is foundational to any runners' workout regimen."

I logged more than 30 days of snowboarding in addition to my more than 40 runs. This was the biggest training change from previous marathons. My family and I traveled to Alaska, British Columbia, Alberta, and New Mexico for ski trips plus as well as a handful of day trips around our home base of Colorado.

It was ambitious, but I didn't want to miss a moment. I became the crazy person running on the treadmill in the lodge gym after a full day on the slopes.

The best part: My unconventional training was working. I felt stronger on my board thanks to running and vice versa. After three months of high-altitude training (between 5,000 and 9,000 feet), I allowed myself to consider a goal race pace and the possibility of a PR, which my coaches supported.

"You had phenomenal work, life, and play balance," said Heuisler. "You got long runs done at altitude and spent a decent amount of time at altitude because of your snowboarding."

I no longer dreaded the distance or time spent pounding the pavement. This running time was all about me. I had only one task: run. I could soak up my surroundings with all my senses, enjoy music I chose, a route my feet took me on, my own snacks, and hours to just be me. With that in mind, my two- or three-hour run was something I looked forward to and truly enjoyed.

Becoming a mom was all I needed to make that switch and appreciate the single responsibility of running. Someone always needed or wanted something from me during my waking hours. But during my run, I could be selfish. Back at home, my daughter was safe and happy and spending quality time with grandma or dadda. My time away gave them more opportunities to bond, and I returned more present and excited to play. It was ultimately good for everyone.

Afterward, I showered and gobbled down as many calories as I could and switched into mom mode with a playground trip, playdate, or grocery store outing.

My daughter's growing vocabulary included the phrase "mama run." She would repeat it when I laced up my sneakers and headed to the treadmill or out the door. Her little voice made me feel invincible.

I hoped traveling would offer a reset after all the big mileage weeks and increasingly meh sleep. I crammed in as much recovery as I could at The Westin London City. I floated in the pool, soaked in the hot tub, completed a Hyperice Normatec Compression Boots session, took advantage of the Gear Lending program, and ate nutritious meals. I hoped a few nights in a Heavenly bed with no toddler wakeup calls would surely do the trick.

I was as comfy as can be, but jetlag knocked me down and come race day my Garmin recommended "rest." I tried to erase it from my mind as I tapped out of the module and into my pre-race ritual. I went into auto-pilot: Make oatmeal, drink coffee, pull on clothes, lace up sneakers, foam roll. I told myself it's just a running tour of an awesome city. What does a little piece of tech know anyway? I've been more sleep deprived before, let's see what I can do.

I started off strong with early miles right on my goal race pace to hit sub 4-hours. I slowed around mile 6 when the crowded course narrowed, still tracking toward a PR. The middle miles blurred together, and I maintained a steady pace close to my previous long runs, conserving energy and still passing as needed. I focused on the cheering crowds and checked in with my muscles regularly (all good and going strong), all the while eating and drinking consistently. I waited for pains or cramps to kick in, but they never did.

Hat tip to snowboarding for that marathon miracle. "I have to believe that because your cross training was such a large component to your overall training, it shouldn't come as too much of a surprise that you finished without aches and pains," Heuisler said.

When mile 20 came around, I kicked into racing mode and pushed myself to bob and weave around runners in my path. It wasn't until I crossed the finish line with arms punching into the sky that I slowed to a walk.

The clock showed my third fastest 26.2, but I hit a new milestone. I ran nonstop, no porta potty breaks, pauses to stretch, or walks through water stations. I could hardly believe I really did it -- but my medal proves it.

So does the finish line video from the organizers that lets me see my final strides over the finish. Each time I watch it, my eyes well up. It might even make me want to do it again.