It’s all fun and games until you have to run 10 miles. Alone. In 9,000 percent humidity. And the life lessons you were so proud of gleaning a couple weeks ago start to feel less like little pearls of wisdom and more like little pebbles in your shoe, vexing you more with each sweaty, exhausted step.

A few weeks ago I committed to learning a new life lesson from each of my 16 weeks of marathon training. I shared my first five in an earlier column, hoping they’d resonate with some of you since they aren’t really about running as much as they’re about perspective and persevering and gratitude.

Then the 10-mile training run arrived. And thanks to scheduling conflicts and family obligations, I had to tackle it without my daughter or our weekly training group.

After mile 5, when I decided to swear off running forever, and mile 7, when I stopped trusting my ability to make good life choices, and mile 9, when I started fantasizing about a minor injury that would allow me to bow out of this whole godforsaken ordeal, the lesson finally hit me.

I was nursing my sore back and bruised ego, thinking, “How in the world am I going to run 26 miles if I can’t run 10?” when I remembered being 30 years old and equally exhausted. Only that time I was holding a crying newborn and thinking, “How in the world am I going to comfort a teenager if I can’t comfort a........

© Chicago Tribune