Choosing to Run

Choosing to Run Plot Summary

Introduction

In the middle of the 2018 Boston Marathon, Des Linden found herself alone on the course, battling through torrential rain and fierce headwinds. Hours earlier, she had stood in her hotel room without hope, her body depleted from months of struggling with an undiagnosed thyroid condition. Her race plan had been reduced to a single goal: survive. Yet here she was, challenging the elements and leading the pack after offering unexpected assistance to her rival Shalane Flanagan during a pit stop. This moment of sportsmanship, followed by an against-all-odds victory, would become the defining chapter in the career of one of America's most resilient distance runners. Des Linden's journey embodies the essence of endurance beyond mere physical stamina. From her early days in San Diego where she rejected her father's controlling coaching to finding her own path in the sport, through the grueling years with the Hansons-Brooks Original Distance Project in Michigan, to becoming an Olympian and eventually the first American woman to win Boston in 33 years, Linden exemplifies what it means to persevere when talent alone isn't enough. Her story reveals the delicate balance between ambition and sustainability, the courage to speak truth in a sport plagued by ethical compromises, and the wisdom to redefine success on her own terms when her body could no longer meet the demands of her competitive spirit.

Chapter 1: The Outsider: Finding Her Place in Running

Des Linden grew up in a household where sports weren't optional. Her father Dennis required Des and her older sister Natalie to play year-round, conducting his own post-practice clinics in their front yard. He pushed them relentlessly, creating a complicated dynamic where his genuine desire for their success was overshadowed by his controlling methods. "Nothing is given, everything is earned" was one of his mantras, but he also made Des feel perpetually indebted for any opportunity he provided. The only person who understood this tightrope walk was Natalie, and the sisters formed an unbreakable bond as teammates in life. At age ten, Des's father signed her up for the Junior Carlsbad, a one-mile road race. Arriving in her cotton sweatsuit among kids in specialized running gear, she immediately felt like an outsider. But that feeling vanished when the gun went off. She won handily, beating most of the boys. Her father reveled in the victory: "Look at them in all their fancy gear, and you just whooped up on them." The chip on Des's shoulder was hereditary, and it became a source of motivation throughout her career. While soccer and softball filled her early athletic schedule, running eventually emerged as Des's true calling. At the MLK Blasters youth track club, where she was the only white athlete among African American sprinters, she found acceptance despite her difference. Coach Adam Henderson and his daughter Monica crafted workouts specifically for her, and Des thrived in an environment where results depended solely on the clock, not politics or parental influence. Running became her ticket to independence, offering time that was completely within her control. Frank Browne, her high school track coach, became a pivotal influence when Des was a junior. During a youth camp at the Chula Vista Olympic Training Center, Des wrote "Make an Olympic team" on a notecard as her goal. Frank didn't dismiss her ambition but rather laid out a long-term progression: improve her speed in shorter distances, shift to 5K and 10K on the track, and ultimately use that combination of speed and stamina for the marathon. It was the first time Des had heard marathon and her name in the same sentence, and she couldn't see anything competitive about an event she associated with recreational joggers. When the time came for college, Des chose Arizona State University over the University of California, Berkeley (where Natalie played field hockey) because of coach Walt Drenth's approach to developing athletes. Walt's philosophy that a champion's mentality was about more than just winning resonated with her. He valued effort and mindset over outcomes. This decision marked Des's first major step toward charting her own path, even as it meant being separated from her sister. The choice reflected an emerging pattern in her life: following her instincts rather than others' expectations, and seeking environments where she could grow not just as an athlete, but as a person. After college graduation in 2005, Des took another leap into the unknown by joining the Hansons-Brooks Original Distance Project in Michigan, a group that specialized in developing underdog marathoners. Despite her initial resistance to the marathon distance, she was drawn to the program's philosophy and the opportunity to prove herself. Moving over 2,000 miles from home with just two checked bags and a backpack, Des embarked on a journey that would ultimately lead her to become one of America's greatest marathon runners, drawing strength from her identity as an outsider every step of the way.

Chapter 2: Investment: Building the Foundation for Success

The Hansons-Brooks Original Distance Project offered Des a different path than most elite running groups. Founded by brothers Keith and Kevin Hanson, the program provided a training environment for runners with unfulfilled potential but not enough star power to attract major sponsorships. Their contracts were bonus-only structures with no guaranteed income, a risky but potentially rewarding proposition for athletes willing to make the investment. Des lived cheaply in a team house, working part-time at an outdoor gear store called Moosejaw Mountaineering to supplement her income. The arrangement was simple and sensible to her: work hard, perform well, get paid. Training with the Hansons meant embracing their philosophy of "running tired" – ramping up mileage to replicate the fatigue that sets in after twenty miles of a marathon, extending that plateau with quality workouts while legs remained heavy, and skipping conventional recovery periods. It was a demanding approach that required complete commitment. Des had been resistant to the marathon distance, preferring track events, but after witnessing the 2006 Chicago Marathon – where runners battled to the finish in dramatic fashion – she gained new respect for the event and those who tackled it. Her marathon debut came at Boston in 2007, where she formed an immediate bond with the race and the city. Gloria Ratti, the Boston Athletic Association's historian and first lady, greeted Des and her teammates as if they were VIPs rather than first-timers. Gloria's passion for the marathon's history was contagious, and Des caught it. On race day, a powerful nor'easter hit, making conditions miserable. Des finished in 2:44, falling in love with every cold, soggy, challenging step of the iconic course. This experience planted the seeds for a relationship with Boston that would become central to her career. As Des built her marathon credentials, her relationship with Ryan Linden, a local runner who occasionally trained with the Hansons group, deepened from friendship to romance. Ryan witnessed one of Des's first attempts to advocate for herself with the Hansons before her second Boston Marathon. Des argued that she should aim higher than the conservative pace they suggested, believing she could perform better than they predicted. Ryan admired her passion and seconded her growing self-belief, becoming an important member of her support crew at a pivotal moment in her career. The years of investment began paying dividends as Des steadily improved. At the 2009 World Championships, she broke the 2:30 barrier with a 2:27:53 for tenth place, coming within five seconds of Kara Goucher, an athlete she had long admired. By 2010, she lowered her personal best again to 2:26:20 in Chicago. Her first major paychecks went toward reinvesting in herself – buying decent health insurance and moving out of the team house. Each success bought her time to continue in the sport, but also raised expectations. After careful consideration with the Hansons, she targeted the 2011 Boston Marathon, believing she could win on American soil against the world's best. The 2011 Boston build was special. Des strung together multiple 120-mile weeks, approaching every mile, every meal, every strength workout with the mindset of a champion. She constantly visualized success, picturing herself breaking away after Heartbreak Hill, celebrating as she broke the tape. On race day, everything went according to plan until the final straightaway, where she battled Kenya's Caroline Kilel stride for stride. With the finish line in sight, both her calves locked up, and she watched Kilel pass her to win by two seconds. Her time of 2:22:38 was the fastest ever by an American woman at Boston, but Des was hollowed out by coming so close. This heartbreaking near-miss became a turning point. It validated Des's training methods and proved she could compete with anyone in the world. It also deepened her connection with Boston, where she had audaciously gestured to the crowd for more noise as she battled through the Newton hills. The city had responded, investing in her journey, sharing her disappointment when the win slipped away. Most importantly, it confirmed that she was on the right path – investing in herself had nearly resulted in the ultimate payoff, and she was determined to create another opportunity to stand on the top step of the podium.

Chapter 3: Dreams and Dust: Olympic Ambitions and Setbacks

The 2012 US Olympic marathon trials in Houston marked a dream realized for Des Linden. After years of visualizing the moment, she finished second behind Shalane Flanagan, securing her spot on the Olympic team. It validated her life choices and increased her professional value overnight. Yet the triumph came with complex emotions, particularly when her longtime friend Amy Hastings finished fourth, just missing the team. Des embraced Amy at the finish, certain they'd still walk into the London Olympic opening ceremonies together, as Amy would likely qualify in the 10,000 meters on the track. This accomplishment also presented an opportunity to restructure her professional relationship with the Hansons. Des asked them to advocate for multiyear contracts and salaries from Brooks rather than the single-year, bonus-only structure that had defined the Original Distance Project. She also decided to separate her coaching and business arrangements, bringing in agent Josh Cox to handle her sponsorships and race appearances. Though the Hansons accepted these changes, the relationship seemed strained, and Des sometimes wondered if the conflict was real or something she'd constructed to prove someone else wrong. Just months before the Olympics, disaster struck. During a training session on a course Kevin Hanson had designed to mimic London's twisting route, Des developed sharp pain in her right hip and groin area. An MRI showed nothing, and physical therapy provided little relief. Relegated to training on an anti-gravity treadmill, Des watched her Olympic dreams slipping away as the Games approached. The uncertainty was agonizing – she'd worked her entire life for this opportunity, and now her body was betraying her. Upon arriving in London, Des faced a difficult decision. If she withdrew completely, she would lose her official Olympian status, affecting both her identity and her contract incentives. If she started and quickly dropped out, she'd at least retain the title she'd earned. After much deliberation and with her leg still painful, Des chose to march in the opening ceremony with Amy, experiencing the magnificent spectacle she'd dreamed of since childhood, though her enjoyment was tempered by self-scolding about whether she deserved to feel happy. On race day, Des made it just two miles before the pain forced her to stop – her Olympic experience reduced to fifteen minutes of effort. She faced reporters afterward with composure: "The last month especially, I put everything I had into getting here. I think I have another Olympics in me." Messages flooded in, mostly supportive, but some scathing ones accused her of selfishness for not giving up her spot. The diagnosis that finally came weeks later brought strange relief: a stress fracture in her femur, the largest bone in her body. The injury justified her inability to continue and provided a clear path to recovery. During this lowest point, Des received an email from John Ball, a chiropractor with a gift for rehabilitating injured runners. Though initially optimistic about getting her ready for Boston 2013, John quickly recognized the severity of her fracture and told her the road back would be long. His honesty and comprehensive approach to her recovery inspired confidence. Des came to lean on his patience and expertise as she began the slow climb back to competitive form. The 2013 Boston Marathon became another pivotal moment in Des's career, though not in the way anyone could have anticipated. Unable to race due to her recovery timeline, she attended as a guest. After completing a ten-mile training run with Ryan on race morning, she was showering in their hotel when the bombs exploded near the finish line. The terrorist attack that killed three and wounded many more strengthened her connection to Boston and its resilient community. When she returned to race in 2014, finishing ninth, she witnessed Meb Keflezighi become the first American man to win Boston since 1983 – an inspiration that reminded her that comebacks were possible and that perseverance could eventually lead to breakthrough moments.

Chapter 4: The Deepest Well: Confronting Health and Identity Crisis

In the summer of 2017, Des Linden's body began shutting down without explanation. After a disappointing half marathon in Australia, she struggled through simple training runs, moving a minute per mile slower than usual while finding them significantly more difficult. Hair fell out in clumps when she showered. Her legs tingled, and her feet fell asleep even when she wasn't running. She felt cold all the time, even in August heat. Most alarmingly, her once-meticulous training log resembled Swiss cheese, with more holes than substance as her motivation inexplicably disappeared. The decline was swift and mysterious. Des could barely climb a flight of stairs without becoming winded. She spent days huddled under blankets on the couch, unable to concentrate enough to hold a book upright. One night, she woke with a gasp, terrified that she'd stopped breathing. Her heartbeat was alarmingly slow, and she fought sleep, afraid she wouldn't wake up. "If I wake up," she thought, "I'll take the medication." The next day, after blood tests revealed severe hypothyroidism, she reluctantly began taking Synthroid, synthetic thyroid hormone that would replace what her body could no longer produce. The diagnosis forced Des to confront conflicting emotions. In the running world, thyroid medication carried controversial baggage, often associated with athletes seeking performance enhancement without medical necessity. Now she faced the reality that without treatment, her condition was life-threatening. Her body's thyroid hormone levels were so low that doctors warned she could slip into a coma. Her muscles were breaking down, her liver was being damaged, and everything non-essential was shutting down. The medication wasn't a shortcut but a necessity. As her mental fog slowly lifted, Des realized her thyroid issues had likely been brewing for at least a year. She'd ignored symptoms like unexplained sore throats and energy fluctuations, dismissing them as temporary setbacks. Her capacity to tolerate what most would consider intolerable – a hallmark of endurance athletes – had prevented her from recognizing how much trouble she was in. Now she needed to apply that same discipline toward something more sustainable: rebuilding her health with patience rather than pushing through at all costs. This health crisis coincided with growing disillusionment about her sport. The Hansons had recently signed Dathan Ritzenhein, who had been part of Alberto Salazar's Nike Oregon Project – a group under investigation for questionable medical practices and ethical violations. Des felt this contradicted everything the Hansons claimed to stand for regarding clean sport. Communication between them broke down, creating a rift that couldn't be patched. Meanwhile, her results at the 2017 Boston Marathon, where she finished fourth, had left her questioning whether she could ever win a major marathon in an era of technological advances and questionable practices. The process of recovery forced Des to redefine what progress meant. No longer could she measure success solely by race results or training paces. Some days she could run effortlessly at her old speeds; others, despite maximum effort, she'd be a minute per mile slower. She had to learn to gauge workouts by relative effort – How do I feel? – rather than hitting prescribed paces. This approach was foreign territory for someone who had judged her self-worth by the stopwatch for twenty years. Through this darkness, a glimmer of hope appeared when Shalane Flanagan won the 2017 New York City Marathon, becoming the first American woman to do so in forty years. Des watched the race on television and tweeted her emotional support: "In tears. Thank you @ShalaneFlanagan for giving us something to believe in." Shalane's fierce, joyous "Fuck yeah!" at the finish line marked the end of an era of frustration for their generation. It restored some of Des's faith in running and gave her hope that it would be worth continuing her own climb out of the deep well of fatigue. As Des slowly rebuilt, she realized that hitting the purest groundwater didn't require drilling through quite so much rock. The places and people that endured were those with the capacity to be dynamic, to evolve and reinvent. She needed the comfort of familiar rhythms combined with the possibility of change. Running would remain her constant companion, but her relationship with it – and how she defined success – would never be the same.

Chapter 5: The Right Why: Redefining Purpose and Motivation

In November 2017, Des and her sister Natalie embarked on a two-week trip to Rome and Marrakesh. This wasn't a post-marathon vacation or a dedicated training camp, but a hybrid experiment to see if Des could balance immersing herself in new cultures while maintaining a training schedule. No longer bound by the Hansons' rigid structure, she could train however and whenever she wanted. Her first priority was building in more rest – sleeping later, scheduling more days between hard sessions, and giving herself the option to adjust workouts based on how she felt each day. Along the Tiber River in Rome, Des completed quality sessions while appreciating the beauty of her surroundings. In Marrakesh, she explored marketplaces and museums between runs. By the trip's end, she was convinced she could weave travel into her schedule and maintain discipline – perhaps even improve it. The work would be the same whether she was running through one of the world's ancient capitals or on familiar Michigan roads. Keeping herself curious and engaged seemed increasingly vital to her professional well-being. Back in Charlevoix, Des settled into the routine of winter training. Despite her aversion to monotony, she thrived on structure once she reestablished it. "The grind" had positive connotations for her – a challenge to embrace repetition creatively. There were only so many hours she could spend running, and the rest of her workday included naps, massages, playing with her dogs in the snow, reading voraciously, and evenings sipping bourbon with Ryan by the fireplace. These varied pursuits gave her life balance and would provide footing if running disappeared. As she logged miles on rolling farmland or flatter stretches near Lake Michigan, Des had to change her approach to training. The philosophy of cumulative fatigue ingrained during her years with the Hansons – "It doesn't matter if you're tired. Do the mileage you're supposed to do" – no longer served her recovering body. Instead, she had to structure training around what was rational day by day rather than following an exact assigned mileage. On any given day, she might extend a run that felt good or cut one short that seemed counterproductive. This flexibility was foreign territory for someone accustomed to forcing predetermined splits. In February 2018, Des traveled to Arizona to work with John Ball and continue her Boston preparation. She connected with Reid Buchanan, a younger runner who served as both training partner and source of lively debate. Arizona provided familiar routes that grounded her when everything else seemed to fluctuate day to day. The vast, bold paint strokes of desert sunsets lit up her evening runs, reminding her why she appreciated the act of running itself, apart from competition. During this period, Des was inspired by watching Olympic skier Lindsey Vonn compete in the 2018 Winter Games. At 33, Vonn was considered past her prime, yet she hurled herself down mountains at 80 miles per hour, refusing to accept the notion she should worry about her "legacy." This resonated deeply with Des, who at the same age was fighting her own battle against time and physical limitations. Vonn's bronze medal performance reinforced that self-determination mattered more than others' expectations. This realization crystallized into a mantra that Des shared on social media: "Some days it just flows, and I feel like I'm born to do this, other days it feels like I'm trudging through hell. Every day I make the choice to show up and see what I've got, and to try and be better. My advice: keep showing up." The simple statement captured her evolving philosophy – that consistency and presence mattered more than perfection. When Des ran the NYC Half Marathon in March, a crucial test before Boston, she performed well enough to justify continuing her journey. The race reminded her that pushing the pace and competing at the center of the running universe still motivated her. Though her prospects remained uncertain, she allowed herself to drift toward possibility: Maybe I can. After years of resisting being "just a runner," Des had finally made peace with her identity. If running was what she did, not who she was, then it was up to her to decide how long it would remain central to her life, and on what terms. In this moment of clarity, Des realized she wanted to be a runner for at least a little while longer. She was ready to scrap for that identity instead of fighting against it. The secret had been hiding in plain sight all along: she was most at home and in her element when immersed in learning, when pushing boundaries not just physically but intellectually and emotionally. With Boston less than a month away, she didn't know if she could win, but she knew why she would try.

Chapter 6: Against All Odds: The 2018 Boston Marathon Victory

Four days before the 2018 Boston Marathon, Des received prototype racing flats from Brooks, painted black to obscure the logos. Getting new shoes this close to a major race was almost unheard of, but the company was racing to match Nike's state-of-the-art technology. The shoes were emblematic of Des's bigger questions: Should she risk using untested equipment? Could she finish the race without setting back her health recovery? Most fundamentally, was she still capable of competing at the highest level? The Friday before the race, Des sat for media interviews in the Fairmont Copley ballroom, fielding questions about her year-long absence from racing. When reporter Jonathan Gault asked about the Hansons signing Dathan Ritzenhein from the Nike Oregon Project, Des gave an unexpectedly honest answer: "No. Not especially... It puts me in a tough spot. It's hard to be vocal about anti-doping when someone can say, 'What about you? What about this?'" Despite appearing composed, Des was fighting panic during her response, knowing it would permanently rupture her relationship with the Hansons. By race eve, Des felt emotionally drained. The weather forecast had turned ominous: temperatures in the high thirties, relentless heavy rain, and winds gusting to forty-five miles per hour. When Josh Cox, her agent, arrived at her hotel room after a meeting with Brooks representatives, he assured her that despite her controversial comments, the company was committed to her future. Ryan, sensing her improved mood, encouraged her to approach the race differently: "You have a shot. Everything's really good for you. Everybody is going to freak out, and you know how to run in this garbage... Just try, and see what happens." Race morning brought the full fury of the storm. When Des and Josh stepped outside the Fairmont, a howling blast of frigid wind hit them like a physical blow. Stinging, freezing rain pelted their faces. The absurdity of the situation made them laugh hysterically. Des realized that everyone would suffer that day, but perhaps no one had managed suffering the way she had over the previous eight months. Before boarding the athletes' bus to Hopkinton, Josh hugged her and said what she had come to expect but never took for granted: "I'm proud of you no matter what happens out there." On the bus, Des found John Ball, who had been helping rehabilitate her since 2012. They shared a silent understanding that the torrential downpour might change their cautious race plan. When Des asked if he thought she could finish, John smirked slightly: "If it goes out slow enough, yeah. When the gun goes off, it's going to be a fight to get to the back of the pack. Just take it mile by mile." They suppressed giddy laughter at how the weather might work in her favor. The race unfolded unlike anything Des had envisioned. The elite women's pack jogged through the early miles, no one willing to lead into the headwind and rain. Around mile 13, Shalane Flanagan made a bathroom pit stop, and Des slowed to wait for her, promising to help pace her back to the pack. This unexpected act of sportsmanship became a turning point. Working together against the elements awakened Des's competitive instincts, and by mile 21, she found herself chasing Kenyan runner Gladys Chesir, who had closed the gap on Ethiopian leader Mamitu Daska. At the crest of Heartbreak Hill, Des passed Chesir with authority she couldn't have summoned months earlier. She accelerated down the steep hill past the Chestnut Hill Reservoir, drawing on her deep reservoir of experience on this course. The rain still hammered down as she approached the Citgo sign, but Des maintained her lead. Making the iconic final turns – right on Hereford, left on Boylston – she found herself alone, the center of attention in a rarefied space. Des charged toward the finish, passing the spot where her legs had seized in 2011. This time, nothing would stop her. Breaking the tape, she instinctively brought her hands to her mouth in shock before being embraced by running legend Joan Benoit Samuelson. Minutes later, Josh physically dragged Ryan into the finish area, and the three embraced in a moment captured by television cameras but intensely private in its significance. "I can't believe that just fucking happened," Des managed to say, though Ryan's radiant smile suggested he had never doubted her. In the most challenging conditions in race history, Des Linden had become the first American woman to win the Boston Marathon in 33 years. The outsider who had always felt most comfortable on the margins now stood at the very center of her sport, proving that sometimes the path to the greatest triumph runs directly through the deepest adversity.

Chapter 7: Another Season: Embracing New Challenges

Following her Boston victory, Des Linden's life divided into Before and After. The win secured her place in marathon history – her face would appear on banners during race week, her name permanently entered in the 122-year-old record books. Yet even as she celebrated this achievement, Des faced the question of what would come next. Her relationship with the Hansons had reached its breaking point, and she needed to chart a new course for her career. In a meeting with Keith and Kevin Hanson after Boston, Des was direct about no longer fitting into their group from either a training or personal perspective. Though they discussed potential compromises, communications afterward suggested they expected her to continue wearing their jersey because of "what they'd done for her." This reminder of feeling indebted made Des's decision to leave the Original Distance Project easier. With Josh's support, she chose her own happiness, eventually reconnecting with her college coach Walt Drenth. Des also reached out to Dathan Ritzenhein, inviting him to her home in Rochester for a private conversation. She wanted to make clear she had no personal ill will toward him and no interest in pushing him out of the Hansons' group. Their discussion about his experiences with Salazar and the Nike Oregon Project reaffirmed her instinct to move on, but also provided closure on a situation that had caused her significant stress. As defending champion, Des approached the 2019 Boston Marathon with a different mindset. Though her thyroid condition was better managed, she still faced the challenge of balancing increased media obligations and sponsor commitments with training. When she found herself dropped from the lead pack at mile 18, feeling mentally and physically fatigued, she considered easing up. Then she thought of Gabriele "Gabe" Grunewald, a middle-distance runner battling terminal cancer who had recently told Des on Twitter: "Sometimes, life happens, and your only choice is a comeback." Gabe's words provided powerful perspective. Des realized her situation – being dropped, feeling ambivalent about working hard – wasn't a problem but a luxury that Gabe no longer had. Des dedicated the final miles to Gabe, fixing her eyes on each runner ahead and steadily picking them off. This renewed purpose carried her forward in the race and symbolized her approach to the next phase of her career. When the COVID-19 pandemic hit in 2020, canceling major marathons worldwide, Des faced another crossroads. Rather than becoming discouraged, she created the "Destober Calendar Club" challenge – committing to run the equivalent mileage of each date in October (1 mile on October 1, 31 miles on October 31). The project engaged thousands of runners online and provided Des with fresh motivation during a time of uncertainty. In April 2021, Des took on a new challenge: breaking the women's 50-kilometer world record. On a flat course in Oregon with a small group of supporters, she pushed through the familiar pain of the marathon distance and then beyond into unknown territory. In the final miles, she faced a choice familiar to every runner: settle for the record that was already secured or push harder for a sub-three-hour finish. True to form, Des chose to find out how much more she had to give. "Let me take it," she told her running partner Charlie Lawrence as the clock ticked toward 2:59:50, and sprinted to the finish, breaking the tape in 2:59:54. This performance exemplified Des's evolution as an athlete: still fiercely competitive but more flexible in how she defined success. The woman who once resisted being "just a runner" had found deeper meaning in the sport by expanding its boundaries. Whether racing against the world's best on historic courses or challenging herself on new terrain, Des Linden had learned that loyalty – to herself, her values, and the people who supported her – was the foundation that allowed her to keep showing up, day after day, choosing to run toward whatever challenge awaited around the next turn.

Summary

Des Linden's journey from outsider to champion reveals a universal truth: the path to greatness often runs directly through our deepest struggles. Her 2018 Boston Marathon victory in apocalyptic weather conditions wasn't just the culmination of years of near-misses and disappointments; it represented a profound redefinition of success that came only after confronting a life-threatening health crisis and embracing vulnerability. In her darkest moments – whether battling hypothyroidism that nearly ended her career or facing the heartbreak of missing an Olympic team by seconds – Des found strength in her mantra: "Keep showing up." The power of Des Linden's story extends beyond running circles because it speaks to how we all might approach adversity. Her willingness to question conventional wisdom, to separate effort from outcome, and to stand for clean competition even when it cost her professionally demonstrates that integrity matters more than achievement. For anyone facing seemingly insurmountable obstacles, Des offers a blueprint: be patient enough to rebuild from the ground up when necessary, brave enough to speak truth regardless of consequences, and wise enough to redefine success on your own terms. Her evolution from someone who resisted being "just a runner" to someone who embraced that identity on her own terms reminds us that sometimes our greatest fulfillment comes not from fighting who we are, but from discovering how to be that person authentically and completely.

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Des Linden

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