I believe that authenticity is everything in running, coaching and writing. Thank you for tuning into my Authentic Voices series this past week while I snuck away to Arizona to experience the trip of a lifetime (more on that soon). Today is the last installment of my Authentic Voices series, in which I shared the words and stories of four insightful and inspiring runners who epitomize what it means to be authentic. In case you missed it, check out the first Authentic Voices article Letting Go of Goals by Laura Norris, the second installment Missing My Runner’s Body by Christine Yu and the most recent article Running on the Downside by Amanda Loudin.

Today’s fourth and final authentic voice is my dear friend Sarah Canney, a New Hampshire-native and lover of all things outdoors, but mostly running the rural roads around her home. A mom to three little ones, she is the author of Run Far Girl and the creator of Run Far Gear, an inspirational running apparel company that gives back to the Children’s Hospital at Dartmouth-Hitchcock where her son Jack had multiple surgeries there as an infant. Sarah is passionate about helping others discover their strength through running and is the creator of Rise.Run.Retreat, an all-women’s running retreat she lets me co-host with her. She is also a USATF and RRCA certified running coach. Today, Sarah is sharing her perspective on how we can take mental and physical control of our miles.

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Staring up 25 percent grade, I will myself to keep moving forward. No matter how choppy my steps are, no matter how slow I feel, I slog up the mountain.

During the summer months, when the snow has melted off the mountains in New Hampshire, I head to our local ski area and run up the maintenance road. With 1,280 feet in elevation gain in 1.5 miles and grades ranging from 9 to 25 percent, it’s a solid workout.

When I started going back there last summer, my first time up the mountain I hiked, wondering how on Earth I managed to run up it the summer before. It seemed unfathomable. It took me 38 minutes to hike to the top.

Three or four weeks later, I tackled it again … this time running. I walked the steepest portions of it, huffing and puffing, my heart rate through the roof. I managed to finish it in 26 minutes, faster than hiking, but not anywhere near as fast as I ran it the year prior.

A few weeks later, I went back to the mountain, determined not to walk as much. I huffed and puffed but my heart rate wasn’t quite as high and the steep part (25 percent grade) felt manageable instead of impossible. I ran it in 23:57.

Toward the end of last summer, I went to the mountain feeling strong, knowing that I could tackle it and do well. Knowing that my goal of running to the top without stopping was possible. Knowing I was capable of beating my time from the week before. But when I hit that steep part, I lost all that confidence and that feeling of strength. I just slogged, head down, one foot in front of the other in a slow shuffle. I really wanted to beat my time from the week before, but as I slogged on I realized it probably wasn’t going to happen.

Then somewhere from inside came this voice that said “Own These Miles.” Own them. Put your name on them. Make them yours. Slogging wasn’t owning it, and I knew it. Sometimes, when we know we aren’t going to hit our goal, in a small way we give up. We’re already disappointed, so we quit a little. Maybe we don’t walk off the course, but we stop giving it our best because there won’t be a PR at the end. But not every run, not every race has to or can be a PR. The circumstances will always yield different results. We want them to be better than the result from before, but often they are not. And when the results aren’t what we hoped them to be, that’s the very moment when we need to Own These Miles. Own it. Put your name on it.

My stride quickened, my arms pumped more. Damn it, I was going to own those last 200 yards to the summit even if I fell to the ground in a heap at the end. I pushed just a little more and reached the top. 24:31. Not better than last week by the clock, but better than last week.

Ever feel like giving up because you know you’re not going to improve or hit a PR? What do you need to own?