I ran a few more 5Ks, and each time I trained that slow-moving fifth grader was there with me.

In an effort to up the ante, this past summer I participated in a triathlon — what I thought would be the ultimate test — and I actually finished it. I thought doing so would be proof that I'd finally moved from out of shape to vaguely athletic. But throughout the swim, the bike ride, and the run, I felt like an impostor. I gasped for breath as the real athletes passed me, offering the kind of reassuring, "looking goods" you'd give to a kid who was totally going to wipe out soon. By the time I crossed the finish line, the front runners already looked rested and refreshed, and I later learned that the kind volunteers who handed me a water bottle at the finish line only held their posts long enough to greet me because my mother was there to assure them that, yes, there was another competitor still on the course. I don't think I was dead last, but I know I was close to it. I know I should have felt accomplished, but I didn't. I finished a triathlon, yet I still felt held back by something.

So, the autumn after my technically successful tri, I signed up with a personal trainer, thinking that might be the missing piece in my fitness quest. For the last three months, twice a week, I have done awful things called "dynamic planks" and "burpees with weighted jumping jacks" and something involving a large inflatable ball I just call "it would be so embarrassing if this is how I die." And eventually I realized what I needed to do to convince myself of my own progress — I needed to run and pass my very own mile assessment as an adult.

After three months of training with a pro, I finally felt ready to see how far I'd come. I decided to attempt the run on a weekend at my parent's house, figuring sprinting through the same streets I had walked home on after so many unsuccessful mile attempts would be symbolic. I had remembered 10:00 minutes as the time I had needed to be under to pass, but after looking it up I realized I'd have to run it in under 9:45.

By minute five I was seriously considering giving up, looping around the same block until a woman walking her dog became a whitish blur. I nervously looked down as the seconds ticked by on my watch, getting to .8 and then .9 and I pushed and pushed...until I finished in 9:49. A failure by four seconds.

Yup, I still couldn't pass. But despite that I honestly felt victorious. I didn't need to collapse after I finished. I calmly walked home, huffing discretely, proudly realizing that I didn't hold back.