April 5, 2025 marked our first full marathon as a family, 26.2 miles. With barely any training, we still managed to cross the finish line and complete the race together. We were exhausted, limping from pain, and questioning how we even made it to the finish. It may not have been our fastest race, but it was the most meaningful.

Running a full marathon together wasn’t just a new milestone in distance. 26.2 miles didn’t stop the connection and support we have for each other. No matter how painful any race is, I know I’m never doing it alone. Running with my family has brought us closer together than ever, and our running journey will keep on growing. 

It all started in April, 2023. My brother and I were swimming competitively as a sport.We had never run for more than a mile without feeling like we were going to die. 

As every parent wants the best for their children, my parents wanted us to get really good at swimming. Like, Olympic level. To really help us improve with swimming, they decided we should start running to increase our endurance in the water. When they told us at first, I thought they meant short distance running, one hundred, two hundred, maybe even 50 meter dashes. What my brother and I got into the next Saturday was definitely not short distance, not even mid distance. With a pair of Nike Air Forces, we ran a total of six miles with the K.A.R.T (Korean American Running Club, a running club for all ages). That was just the beginning of our running journey. 

Two years later, we sign up for half marathons several times a year.  Waking up at the crack of dawn to run 13.1 miles with each other is painful, exhausting, and sometimes makes me hate running so much that I want to quit, but it’s also the one thing that brings our family closer.

The day before a race, we check into our hotel and head to the race expo to pick up our race packets and gear. The race expo is packed with thousands of runners, all preparing for the same race ahead. Runners walk past each other, exchanging nods and quiet good lucks. That night, we gather in our hotel room and eat absurd amounts of doodrashed pasta. We joke with each other and crack up while we share the most embarrassing moments of our past races. Our favorite memory to laugh about is my brother’s, justin, dramatic finish-line collapse during our second ever half marathon. Sitting there, surrounded by my family, cracking jokes, and teasing each other, I felt a sense of closeness and connection with them. 

Before I even realize my eyes are shut, we are back up around 3 a.m., barely able to function. Although we layer up in old sweaters we plan to toss at the start line, my mom constantly reminds us to layer ourselves in sunscreen. By 5 a.m, we are on board the shuttle, making our way up the mountain to the start line. 

At a temperature of what feels like a negative 100 degrees, my family and I all huddle together in foil blankets to keep each other warm. We stretch, constantly complain about how cold it is, and encourage each other. The worst part of this morning is the enormous line for the porta-potties.

As the clock slowly ticks towards the start time, the nervous chatter dies down, and we make our way toward the race line, walking through the packed crowd of runners. My family and I exchanged one last talk of encouragement, Good luck! See you at the finish line! before heading towards our pacers. The announcer’s voice booms over the speakers, counting down the final moments. Then, the gun goes off. 

The race itself is a mix of highs and lows. Some miles feel effortless, others feel like the most painful moments of my life. Since we all run at different paces, we meet each other at the finish line around three hours later.

One by one, my family of four finishes the race, and we celebrate and hug each other over and over.

As the runner’s high dies down, we limp back to the hotel, collapsing into bed and taking the best naps of our lives

Later, we enjoy family time in the pool, letting the warm water soothe our aching legs as we talk about everything that happened during the race. Most of the time, I’m complaining about how disgusting the running gels taste while my brother boasts about his time and how amazing he ran. We laugh while we share stories about the race, especially the funny signs we saw along the course. My personal favorite was one that read, “I don’t even know you, but I’m proud of you!” with pink glitter stars and smiley faces painted all over the poster. 

The next morning, walking is nearly impossible. Every step feels like torture, and the stairs are our worst enemy. We groan, limping and waddling around the hotel like penguins. Despite the soreness, we all pile into the car, stopping for a celebratory meal of delicious korean barbecue. Over our meal, we continue to joke around and laugh with each other, already planning our next race.

Every time I cross the finish line, exhausted and barely able to walk, I think, Why did I sign up for this? The race is painful, the early mornings are brutal, and my entire body is tired. But somehow, I always come back to do more. I go back because, throughout the struggle, my family is always there with me, pushing through the challenges together. No matter how hard the race gets, my family is always there, at the start line, bundled together in the freezing cold, and at the finish waiting with open arms. Running 13.1 miles is tough, but that’s OK because we run them together.