Where belief can take you. And how far and fast it can get you there.

I can't explain yesterday's race other than I believed I could. 

I'm still trying to process what happened yesterday on the course of the California International Marathon. All I know is that I do have a race report to write that will come with time and reflection. 

So first, about barriers. How we put them up. How we stare at them with fear. How we think they'll always be unbreakable. And how we take the steps to reconcile what barriers are -- by tactically scaling them, avoiding them altogether, by taking them with a head and heart full of steam. 

When I relate barriers to my running life, I think about how far I can run, how fast I can run far and whatever limitations I have, whether it's an imperfect stride or a straying diet, gets in the way of the barrier, let alone any goals. I've written of the notion of fear, and how it can motivate you to greatness. 

Belief is a strong thing. Yesterday, I could feel it envelope me. By the time I had made it to the start line, I had heard from my coach who said she believed, from friends who thought I had it in me. Even as I was at the start, blissfully unaware of the three plus hours ahead of me, I was happy, confident, purposeful. I believed. 

On the course, I would draw upon it step after step. I asked myself so many questions. Can I run this fast this late? Can my hamstring hold? Can I catch up to that pace bunny that I could only see with my minds eye and a glance at my watch. Can I break that barrier?

Boston's ultimate qualifier is a 3:05. When the bar was moved higher and higher, years back, I got so intimidated that I would only wait for myself to age, which would move that bar just a little lower. My comeback this year, I thought about how I want to take that down that I would look past 3:15. I removed the barrier. I just wanted to go as fast as I could aspire to. I wanted to train up to my potential, not to a barrier one race put in front of me. 

So yesterday, when I passed the 3:05 bunny with 5k to go, I thought nothing of how comfortable it would be to settle in for the ride. The barrier was no longer a number, but a measure of effort, a test of will and a expression of fitness and of belief. 

Belief is a tricky thing. Some blindly believe, just trusting that great things will happen. My version of belief is spiritual yet grounded in reality. Yesterday I thought of the miles I put in, the run streak, the fast times I've closed in workouts and races. 

Belief was manifested yesterday in the reflection of the work put in, in mantras I uttered on the course and of the experience I bought to my 29th marathon. Belief was spurred on by the emotional and logical sides of my makeup, expended with each stride that at one point was happy go lucky and on the next step purposeful.  At the end of it all I couldn't believe I had crossed the finish in 3:02:55 but I had been present in every second that preceded the finish and it was belief that fueled the run. Only this morning I have come to that conclusion and it's the most happy-amazing-gratifying-emotional feeling you can think of. I ran my fastest yesterday simply because I believed I could. 

I ran every day for 365 days. Here's what I learned.

I ran today.

Running streaks have to start somewhere and it was a year ago tomorrow, U.S. Thanksgiving Day, I went on a run.

This morning, I ran for the 365th straight day.

This is a post that in theory I've been thinking about writing for hundreds of days. If I had my way, I would write the entire piece while on the run, as opposed to on the couch long after I've put away my running shoes. In front of my laptop, I can't ever match the emotions, sensations, thoughts that I'm having each day while I am out on a run.

I ran today.

Today, I felt speed, as I accelerated while weary of the lights threatening to turn red. Even typing the word "speed" doesn't begin the describe it. How does one feel speed? My head says go fast and my legs respond, firing off those commands to move arm, muscle, bone, leg, feet -- while my lungs suck in extra air that will be parcelled out to areas that need it most. In the span of a few seconds, speed is not just movement that is done rapidly, but speed is expressed as motion executed by a series of strides, only to be spurred on by a series of decisions -- one decision overrode them all. The decision to run. And today I decided to run.

Race Report: Scotiabank Toronto Waterfront Marathon 2014

Three words. That's all I needed. That's all, really, I could muster in my mind that late in the game.

I had 36 kilometres before I wanted to start using the three words, my motivational running mantra. But through the race, I had also been anticipating that moment when the healing left calf would rebel, when the waves -- bursts -- would strike deeper into the muscle. My legs were spinning, maintaining the pace I had taken to heart, but I could feel it building.

When the 36th kilometre struck, the cramps hit, threatening to tighten completely. I pointed my left foot forward so the balls of my feet would absorb more of the impact, shielding my calf. I had been running for two hours, 40 minutes, and the three words I had planned to use on repeat were hastily replaced. I'd need that mantra later. I wasn't going to waste it now.

"Push, push, push," I muttered between breaths. "Push, push, push," I said, wishing, willing the cramps away.

The leg throbbed. I thought about stopping.

I said for the third time as the spasms hit, "push, push, push."

***
A FEW DAYS AGO, I sat down with my coach to talk about our plans for the marathon. I was four weeks out from a calf pull, and four days until my next marathon. I had healed enough so I could start attempting faster paces. We had agreed on a 3:07 marathon plan, which was the goal time I set back in June. In my mind, my fitness had me with the potential to go faster, but we ended up agreeing on the plan. I promised to go out on pace. "You'll see, once I get on pace, I'll stick to it," I assured her.

My build this season went almost flawlessly until I pulled the calf. I was getting stronger, working on my stride and running technique. I was paying attention to the details -- strength work and healthy diet. I was listening to the body. Races were solid this summer, including a new 5K and 30K PB and I had run long enough runs to be confident in the distance -- even with the injury and the reduced mileage in the past few weeks.

Calf aside, I was fit, and ready to race.

By the time I woke up on race morning, a weather system with gusting winds had swept through the city, leaving us with a gorgeous cold race morning. There was a wind but it was a mere 15km/h and the temperature was calling for 3C at the start, rising to 6-8C by noon. Perfect weather conditions. I had opted for light armwarmers, double singlet, gloves, shorts and a headband. It ended up being the perfect gear as I was never too warm or cold.

I arrived at the start line pumped, confident, focused. But something was different this time around that I had at no other Scotiabank. I was surrounded by so many friends -- teammates who I've run hundreds of miles with; friends I've known for years on the running scene; social media runners from this city and far off places. Everywhere I looked at the start corral, I could trade a hug, a handshake and wish good luck. I was going to run this race solo, but I wasn't alone.

Yes, I got it autographed by Reid and Lanni. Good luck charm?

First-time marathon tips 48 hours before the race (VIDEO)

Ever wondered what are the routines other marathoners get into before the big race? What do you eat, how much sleep do you get? Awesome video put together with members of my running team (myself included) and my coaches and Reid Coolsaet among the guests.

Fear Is The Greatest Motivator - So Be Fearless

I was ready to give up on my goal. A pulled calf a few weeks ago, just as I was about to go into my taper, reminded me how much humility I need to bring to my training. It gave me perspective on what running is to me -- that while I want to run fast, I want to run long, and for a long time.

In the past few weeks, I've been making plans for another marathon past Scotiabank, going back and forth on whether I'll truly race this goal marathon I've been building up to all summer.

Was I finding a way to opt out? What was I afraid of? Today I think I found the answer, and it surprised me.

I have some unfinished business. My coach thinks I'm fit and ready to go. The game face is back and it is good.

And I'm not alone.

***

How do you measure success? It's a question I often ask when I'm interviewing potential candidates in my day job, knowing there is no right answer. For me, the answer to that question helps me judge character more so than to let someone talk about how great they inevitably are.

Success in the corporate environment takes different forms. Meeting targets, heading a project, doing something that you'd tell at the dinner table or ultimately put in your resume. What one sees as success often tells a lot about them. The answers speak show one's self confidence, self awareness and how they strive for greatness in the wake of the always-present risk of failure.

I've thought a lot about failure and fear ever since one of my first work mentors taught me a phrase that shook me so much so that I printed out it, and stuck it to the side of my desk. It became one of my first guiding principles that reminded me that to be extraordinary, you had to find motivation. And I found one source of it.

"Fear is a great motivator," he told me.

Fear, and fear of failure, is a powerful thing. It can act as a deterrent to taking risks. Or it can motivate you to take the elements of fear -- self doubt, dread, apprehension, limitations -- and propel you into effort, effort that will help you find courage, calm, confidence and -- if you're lucky -- success.

From The Oatmeal's new running book -- BUY IT