I’m sitting at the world’s best coffee shop in San Diego, California. I’m wearing my finisher’s shirt from the Carlsbad Half Marathon I ran this morning. I ran faster and longer than I have in my entire 39 years on a road that skirted the Pacific Ocean under a perfect blue sky. A dolphin played in the waves as I passed, and surfers paused to watch more than 6,000 runners as we ran.

Last year in January I decided I would run a marathon in June. I’d never really run before, unless you count the two-mile competitions I struggled through when I was 13.

Today I felt strong and powerful and fit and ready. I felt gifted by the beautiful weather and breathtaking scenery. Today I sprinted to the finish line and burst into tears. I beat my impossible dream of being able to set a pace that would cut 1.5 hours from my marathon finish time from last year.

I had hoped for a finish time of 2 hours and 30 minutes. I beat that by 8 minutes and 11 seconds. Today I proved that anyone can do something if she wants it bad enough. I’m 39, 20 pounds heavier than books say I’m supposed to be, a former couch potato and a sometimes fearful person who is afraid to fail. And today I didn’t fail.

Last year when I asked my company for donations to my fundraising to run the marathon with the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society’s Team in Training, I wrote that they should support me because the quest to become an athlete would make me a stronger, sharper, more focused employee. At the time I was simply writing things I thought would get them to donate money, but now I know what I said is true. I’m a better person today because of what I accomplished this morning. I’m a better business owner and a sharper writer and a more determined woman.

It’s going to be a great year.