You’ll Never Know Your Limits If You Don’t Try

Over the weekend, I ran my 8th Los Angeles Marathon.

Every time I cross the finish line, I feel grateful more than anything else. Grateful for a body that has carried three children, and grateful that it still has allowed me to run 14 full marathons. Running that distance is never easy, and every year my body reminds me in different ways that it deserves patience, respect, and care.

Over the years, one lesson has become very clear to me: progress almost always comes from consistency, not intensity. And, you don’t really know what your body is capable of until you try. I was never an athlete growing up, and certainly did not envision myself as a marathon runner.

When I talk to patients about movement and health—especially those living with chronic pain, fatigue, or autoimmune disease—my #1 favorite phrase is:

Start low, go slow.

You don’t need to run marathons to experience success with your health. For many people, success might look like a short walk around the block. It might mean stretching in the morning, or rebuilding strength after a difficult period of illness.

What matters most is the willingness to start somewhere.

Setbacks happen. They are part of the process. I try to think of them as small hiccups in the road rather than signs that something has failed. The important thing is not to “rabbit hole” into discouragement when things don’t go perfectly. Healing, fitness, and resilience are rarely linear.

My #2 favorite phrase is:

Know your body.

Our bodies are constantly communicating with us. When we become more self-aware—when we pay attention to pain, fatigue, recovery, and energy—we start to understand those signals better. The body often tells us where our limits are.

But we can’t discover those limits if we never try.

For some people, trying might mean returning to gentle movement after months or years of feeling unwell. For others, it might mean building the confidence to move again after pain or injury.

Movement does not have to be extreme to be meaningful. It simply needs to be consistent, thoughtful, and kind to the body.

What inspires me even more than crossing a finish line is watching patients I care for rediscover what their bodies can do—whether that’s walking without pain, building strength again, or simply feeling more connected to themselves.

You don’t have to run 26.2 miles.

But you might be surprised by what becomes possible when you take that first step.