About Mary
I still don’t know the first thing about myself.
In the name of transparency, I wasn’t going to write an “about me” section for this blog. I turned to ChatGPT when I thought I might need some form of introduction for those who don’t already know me—or those who think they know me but are only getting half or none of who I actually am.
ChatGPT made me sound like a woman who struggled by no fault or her own, a mother who had overcome mountains to figure out how to run ultras, and a woman who loves and thrives on competition. At first glance this could certainly be an accurate way to describe who I am. I have an extremely competitive nature. I am a mother who had to figure out how to train for ultramarathons without a ton of help…and I have struggled. But that’s not really what defines who I am.
In the name of transparency, I wasn’t going to write an “about me” section for this blog. I turned to ChatGPT when I thought I might need some form of introduction for those who don’t already know me—or those who think they know me but are only getting half or none of who I actually am.
ChatGPT made me sound like a woman who struggled by no fault or her own, a mother who had overcome mountains to figure out how to run ultras, and a woman who loves and thrives on competition. At first glance this could certainly be an accurate way to describe who I am. I have an extremely competitive nature. I am a mother who had to figure out how to train for ultramarathons without a ton of help…and I have struggled. But that’s not really what defines who I am.
I was always a dirty kid. I loved playing with sticks, jumping in mud puddles, running through the woods, and playing capture the flag and tag. I got a rise when one of the boys would try to catch me, only to fade off as I continued to run hard. I played flag football, which usually turned into tackle. I liked falling down and scraping my elbows. I liked falling in mud. I liked stomping recklessly around the woods and falling over tree stumps and logs. The gnarlier the injury, the harder I played. It hurt in the moment, but every scrape and bruise I wore as a badge of honor around the playground. I liked being and feeling tough.
I liked getting thrown around so much that the sport I chose in high school was rugby. I played Flyhalf. It felt like being the captain of a ship, calling plays and running for your life against the opposing team. Getting hit as hard as somebody could hit you, rolling on the ground, and getting back up to do it again was a form of play that gave me joy I can’t even begin to describe unless you’ve experienced it yourself.
I didn’t want to write an “about me” because I don’t entirely know what to write about myself. The task of writing out who you are and having it be an accurate picture of the truth is impossible. I believe the person that we are changes from moment to moment. I wouldn’t even recognize the person I was 5 years ago if I had met her on the street today. She had long brown hair, a baby on her back, a baby in her arms, and plenty of reasons to give up on the running journey she had just begun. At this time 5 years ago, I was tackling my first 10k…not a race, just a run by myself (or rather, myself and two children sitting in a double jogger in the Texas heat).
As a child, my favorite Disney movie was Mulan. You could say I was a big fan of a woman chopping off her hair and going off to war because she wanted to protect her father. I was a daddy’s girl myself. My favorite song was from that movie as well: Reflection.
In college, my love of rugby continued for a short stint. I played for one semester before alcohol began to rule my life, but I learned a very important part of play that I used to fear in high school: I can hit back, and I can do it well.
Learning to hit back and grounding opponents twice my size gave me confidence that I carry with me to this day. There have been ebbs and flows in my life, things that broke me in my past, medical and mental health issues that left me afraid to even go out into sunlight, intense battles with demons, so on and so forth (the classic and tragic ultrarunner story). Despite it all, underneath the surface, I was still that little girl who loved to get dirty, run hard, and hit back.
I started running in 2020 and had a good dance with it for about a year. I learned about ultrarunning and hatched my little plan to build up to 100 miles one day. I had finally mastered running with the double jogger and was ready to tackle my first marathon, starting in January of 2021. But two weeks later, I found out I was pregnant. For personal reasons, I choose not to run while I’m pregnant. My primary thought after the two pink lines popped up unexpectedly was, “How badass would it be to have this baby and then run a marathon?”
And so, I hit back for the first time in my adult life. I waited for nine months, had my third baby, and jumped right into marathon training after getting my clearance from the doctor. Nine months later, I had run a marathon and was planning to run my first ultramarathon four months after that.
Life had hit me with an unexpected pregnancy, and I had hit back by continuing to pursue the dreams I had dreamt before becoming a mother of three.
I feel that it’s important to note here due to the strong verbiage used in the above paragraph that I love being a mother, and I love all my children. But what you’ll find with this blog…and all my social media…is that it’s for me. I choose not to write or talk much about my children because I want them to be able to tell their own stories one day, and I believe mothers deserve to have space for themselves. I’ll talk about what it’s like being a mother and training for ultraruns, how it feels to see my children at the finish line, but this is not a blog about motherhood.
I am Mary. I’m a mother of three, an army spouse, an ultrarunner, a running coach, and a fitness instructor. I wear all these hats and more on most days. But underneath all of that, I am just a girl who likes to get dirty, run hard, and hit back.