Baby ran her first marathon this weekend. The week leading up to my commute to Richmond, Virginia, and my tour of that city on foot during the marathon had me attending classes and meetings like a zombie. For once, the culprit of my zombie-like state wasn’t because I chose coffee and textbooks over sleep one too many times as I tend to do, but rather due to my anxiety as the marathon loomed in the ever-approaching future.

Twenty six miles is a lot of distance, and doing anything for 4+ hours is a lot of commitment. I’ve been training for six months, and I’d be conquering this monster with one of my best friends, but no amount of rationalizing and talking myself down from the tower of nerves seemed to have made a difference. I kept asking myself “Why am I afraid? Why am I nervous? Who am I afraid of disappointing?” Ultimately, I think the answer was rooted in a fear of letting myself down, of not being able to finish, of feeling weak.

I didn’t sign up for a marathon to gain a few points on the “hardcore or nah” scale in my friends’ eyes. I didn’t commit myself to months of training, hours of racing and days of recovery for a 26.2 sticker for my car. Running a marathon is the ultimate test of perseverance and mental toughness for myself. The entire concept of a marathon terrifies me, and that’s exactly why I signed up.

In willingly confronting and conquering that which scares you the most, you’re essentially preparing yourself for the world-shattering events the future will inevitably hold. You’re polishing your mental and emotional armor, and you’re learning how to cope with the toughest thing life can throw at you by drawing on an inner strength. You’re protecting a calm space alongside the busily spinning gears of your mind that you can return to when the going gets rough. The reward waiting for you at the end of the tasks you challenge yourself to are lessons of mental ability and serenity, self-control and dedication.

You see, running for me is the ultimate form of meditation. I can physically handle way more than my mind thinks I can, and long runs where everything is left on the pavement are the only way for me to access this restricted corner of my mind; to push its outer limits, to trust myself to know when to stop and when to dare to continue.

Maybe you can find this enlightened high in some other medium. In fact, most of you probably do not need to run around a strange city for four hours while sucking down 100 calorie packets of goo every forty-five minutes to prove something to yourself. Yet we all have ‘marathons’ that terrify us at the back of our minds. Don’t wait for them to find you, but look them in the eye and sign up. Issue that challenge to yourself and revel in a newfound source of power that can propel you through nearly anything.

Don’t run from the unknown — run directly into the heart of it.

Kenna Rewcastle is a senior in college scholars. She can be reached at [email protected].