For the first time in my now middle-aged life, I recently ran a half marathon. If you would have asked me a year ago what I thought of such athletic endeavors, I might have called them a popular form of torture. So what in the world could have inspired me to do this?

Positive peer pressure.

A friend invited and challenged me to train for the race and run it with her. Knowing her enthusiasm for athletic feats, I said, “Sure. Why not?” She sent me a training plan, and we began to train, each in our own cities. On the day of the half marathon, as we were preparing to drive downtown to the starting line, she told me she had decided not to run due to an injury from which she had not sufficiently recovered. It was wise not to tell me beforehand. Already dressed and ready to go, I wouldn’t back out—despite the freakish cold front that had dropped the temperature to 33º on a March morning in Alabama.

And so with all the other runners, I gathered in downtown Montgomery for the start of the race. I had trained at just under a blazing fast 12 minutes per mile, so I placed myself between the appropriate pacing groups and waited for the gun to crack the air. We were off, and more motivated than ever not to stop, for who would want to walk in such cold?

It turned out to be a lovely jog through the city. I had gotten the clothing right and was warm enough. The course was laid out well. The water stations were adequate—and it gave me joy to see a few parishioners of the small Greek Orthodox community where I serve part-time staffing the first water station. Of course, the half marathon wasn’t without its challenges: running up the hill and over the interstate on Perry Street at mile 10 was brutal, as was the wind on the overpass. At no other point did I want so much to stop.

But I didn’t stop. I ran the whole thing, 13.1 miles. And (probably due in part to adrenaline) at an average mile pace 30 seconds faster than that at which I had trained.

All because of positive peer pressure. And fittingly for this reflection, my training partner met me at mile 12 and ran the last mile with me. 

I’m not sure I’ll ever run another half marathon. If I reach old age, I’d like to enjoy the functioning of my knees without unnecessary pain. But the whole experience was an immensely gratifying achievement. I hope I never forget it and that I apply the lesson and strategy of positive peer pressure over and over again. And as you, dear reader, work toward your goals, which are often in a “discomfort zone” if they truly have transformative potential, I hope you will remember the immense power of positive peer pressure and consider ways to give yourself this incredible support for your challenge. 

May your efforts be blessed!