The idea of building resiliency has become a popular concept as we continue to adjust to life after the pandemic. For many, the anxiety once tied to a single traumatic event has seeped into the everyday; into our routines, our roles, and the constant pressure to keep going. We are stretched thin. We navigate fear and uncertainty in our society, our politics, our personal lives, and our workplaces. And often, that stress turns inward, showing up as imposter syndrome—the quiet but persistent voice telling us we aren’t enough, even when everyone else can see our potential clearly.
But it’s in the face of this adversity where the true meaning of resiliency reveals itself. It is not about pretending hard things do not happen or convincing ourselves we are unaffected. It is not just “rubbing some dirt on it” and pushing the discomfort aside. Real resiliency is the willingness to acknowledge the hardship, the fear, the failure—and still choose to move forward.
As a marathon runner, I’ve learned this lesson countless times. Every runner hits a point where quitting feels easier than continuing, where the pain makes you question why you ever started. But in those moments, you remember the months of training that led you to that mile, that moment. And you take a step. Then another. Those steps become miles, and those miles eventually deliver you to the finish line. When people say, “Life is a marathon,” this is what they mean.
I ground myself in the understanding that I am a dream fulfilled—a dream of slaves and suffragists. I stand where I stand because people I will never meet, whose names I will never know, chose courage in the face of darkness and challenge. They kept moving forward so someone like me could begin miles ahead of where their fight began. Resilience, for me, is honoring their sacrifice by doing the same—meeting today’s challenges with courage so those who come after me are even closer to the finish line.
