One More Mile Forward

Some runners dream about Boston and others dream about ultras. There are those that think about standing on top of a podium.

Orla McCarville just wanted to finish a 5K. She laughs about it now, but there was a time when running outside felt impossible. She could run on a treadmill, but the first time she took those steps onto pavement, everything felt different.

“It was so much harder,” she told me during our Fireside Chat.

If you’ve ever started running, you probably smiled reading that. Because you know exactly what she means. The treadmill doesn’t prepare you for wind or how hills will feel, exactly. It definitely doesn’t prepare you for your own thoughts out in the wild. Those are different than on the treadmill.

For Orla, those first miles were filled with doubt. She didn’t think she looked like a runner nor did she feel like an athlete She was carrying almost 80 extra pounds and struggling with confidence.

But someone invited her to run a 5K. She said yes.

That single decision changed her life.

Running Changed More Than The Scale

Like so many everyday athletes, Orla didn’t begin running to chase medals.

She wanted to become healthier. She had watched family members battle heart disease and cancer and didn’t want that future for herself.

So she started walking. Then running. Then walking again.

Eventually those run-walk intervals became uninterrupted miles. Those miles became 5Ks. Those 5Ks became half marathons. Then came marathons.

Along the way she lost 80 pounds. She quit smoking. She discovered confidence she never knew she had.

None of this was because of a finish time. It was because every mile reminded her she could do hard things.

One thing she said during our conversation stuck with me.

“The first mile is a liar.” Every runner knows that feeling.

The body feels heavy. The legs question your decision. Your brain starts negotiating.

Then something changes. The rhythm appears and your breathing settles down. The run begins.

Life works that way too.

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Then Everything Changed

In 2024, Orla was diagnosed with breast cancer.

After years of becoming healthier…building confidence…..training for another marathon…..everything stopped.

Or maybe it didn’t. Because while chemotherapy, radiation and surgery became part of her calendar, running never completely disappeared.

In fact, she did something that amazed me. She ran a race after every chemotherapy infusion.

Read that again.

Every. Single. Infusion.

Not because she felt great. She didn’t. She spent days afterward dealing with exhaustion, pain and neuropathy that still affects her feet today.

She did it because running reminded her who she was.

It wasn’t about pace anymore. It most certainly wasn’t about personal records. It became about refusing to let cancer write the final chapter.

One More Mile

Toward the end of our conversation I asked how she keeps going when the neuropathy becomes almost unbearable.

Her answer was simple: “I just tell myself one more mile.”

Not six more. Not ten more. One.

That mindset applies to so much more than running. Sometimes life only asks us to take one more step.

One more phone call or one more treatment. One more walk around the block and one more day.

Running teaches that lesson better than almost anything else. You don’t finish a marathon by thinking about mile 26.

You finish it by running the mile you’re standing in.

Everybody Belongs

One of my favorite parts of this conversation had nothing to do with cancer.

It had everything to do with belonging. Orla believes walking counts.

Run-walk counts. Slow miles count. First races count.

She understands something that too many people forget.

Nobody starts as a marathoner. Everyone starts somewhere.

Maybe that’s one lap around the neighborhood and maybe its one mile. How about, one block?

The distance doesn’t matter. Showing up does. That’s what makes Orla’s story so powerful.

Yes, she survived cancer and lost 80 pounds. Sure she is training for another marathon.

Those are incredible accomplishments. But they aren’t what I’ll remember most.

I’ll remember a woman who reminded all of us that the first mile is a liar. That one more mile is enough.

And that there is always a spot at the starting line for everybody and every body.

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