What Coaching Three First-Time Runners Taught Me About Confidence
Marine Corps Marathon, October 2022
Another marathon down. My sixth year of running longer races. I crossed the finish line in Arlington, Virginia, checked my watch, and smiled: goal time met.
Waiting for me was a college friend from Randolph, a Washington, DC native. We hadn’t seen each other in years, but he made time to come support me.
“Dom, are you really using PTO to punish yourself?” he laughed.
“Yeah, I guess you can say that,” I replied, grinning.
At the finish-line reception, he congratulated me, and we walked to a Mediterranean spot nearby. I demolished my food like any runner who has just finished 26 miles, pausing only to answer questions.
“Bro, how did you even get into marathons?” he asked, marveling.
It surprised me. This was someone I’d once looked up to as an upperclassman, someone who remembered me jogging before dawn or late at night after my work-study shift. He knew that running was part lifestyle change, part necessity, encouraged by my doctors.
And then he said it: “I’ve been thinking about running. Like, a half marathon.”
“Yes, you can do it,” I told him. “If there’s anything I can do to help, let me know.”
The words hung in the air. Running had always been my outlet and my therapy. At that point, I had been featured on local news, but still, my training belonged to me. Sharing it, teaching it, was new territory.
He mentioned two more classmates we were both still close with. “Dom, I think I can convince them, too.”
We said our goodbyes, but I walked to the metro already thinking about what this might mean. I texted him later, thanking him for the support, and reconfirmed that I would help however I could.
The Group Chat
A few days later, back to ordinary life, my phone buzzed in the checkout line at the grocery store. By the time I got to the car and checked, I saw a brand-new text thread: “Rock ’n’ Roll DC Half.”
There they were: my original friend, plus two more Randolph classmates: one a former basketball player, the other one of our sharpest engineering students. Both sounded hesitant, but they were in.
I typed back immediately: Let’s go!
Secretly, I’d always wanted friends from my personal life to give running a real shot. But committing to a half-marathon? That was another level.
The questions came flying in:
“How many miles should I run this week?”
“What exactly is a long run?”
“Easy run? None of this sounds easy.”
I answered as best I could. But inside, I asked myself: What do I know about coaching? I’ve only ever trained myself.
And then, I remembered my dad.
Flashback: Lessons From My Dad
My father still holds several high school track and field records, decades later. Meanwhile, I grew up clumsy, with a heart condition, far from the natural athlete he was.
But every Saturday morning, he would take me out running. He taught me how to lace my shoes for ankle support, how to breathe properly, how to handle hills, and how to pace myself.
I’d ask him why I wasn’t training the way he once did, chasing records.
He told me, “I’m not training myself. I’m training you.”
No two paths are the same.
That lesson hit me all over again as I tried to answer my friends’ questions. Coaching wasn’t about giving them my path. It was about helping them find theirs.
The Road to the Half Marathon
At the time, I was still working a conventional 9-to-5. When I realized their half-marathon landed on a workday, my heart sank. I couldn’t be there in person.
I broke the news, but promised I’d guide them as much as possible. From the very start, I shifted their language from “If I finish” to “When I finish.”
What I didn’t admit then was that I was fighting imposter syndrome. Who was I to call myself a coach?
But over the next four months, something changed. We grew closer than we had even been in undergrad. I shared everything I knew: pacing strategies, daily mileage targets, shoe recommendations, recovery methods, mental tricks. I even managed to run in person with one of them during a crucial part of training.
They shared their ups and downs. I encouraged them through every setback. They kept showing up.
And then I felt it: that unique adrenaline rush I usually only get while competing. Except this time, I wasn’t the one racing. I was coaching.
Race Week: DC Half Marathon
There’s nothing like race week. The nerves, the excitement. Even from afar, I felt it with them.
I gave my final advice:
Don’t waste energy wandering around the expo.
Stay off your feet as much as possible.
Stretch. Hydrate.
Most importantly: Run YOUR race.
A half-marathon is not an easy distance to choose for your first official race. But they were ready.
On race day, I was at work when they lined up. I signed up for notifications on my phone to track them live. As the updates came in, my grin grew wider. They crushed it.
All three. Times that were beyond impressive for first-time half-marathoners.
Driving home after my shift, I couldn’t stop smiling. That joy, that fulfillment; it planted a new thought: Could I become a coach?
The Confidence Shift
That day shifted my perspective completely. Coaching forced me to reframe not only how I guided others, but how I spoke to myself.
I had pushed them from “If I finish” to “When I finish.” Somewhere along the way, I adopted the same language for myself. I started to believe that maybe I did have the experience and the perspective to help others.
Confidence, I realized, isn’t built by knowing everything. It’s built by showing up consistently, doing the work, and supporting others to do the same.
Present Day
Now, two of the three still run competitively. The same friend who first came out to support me at the 2022 Marine Corps Marathon? He’s signed up for the Las Vegas Marathon in a few months.
This time, I’ll be there on the sidelines, supporting him. Coaching him.
What Coaching Three First-Time Runners Taught Me
Looking back, guiding my friends to their first half-marathon taught me as much about myself as it did about running.
Confidence grows when you share it. Running had always been personal, but giving my knowledge away multiplied my own belief in what I could do.
Language matters. Changing one word—“if” to “when”—shifted their mindset. It shifted mine, too.
No two paths are the same. My dad was right. Coaching isn’t about creating clones. It’s about helping someone succeed on their own terms.
Imposter syndrome fades with action. I didn’t feel like a coach until I acted like one. Confidence followed the doing, not the other way around.
Community makes the journey richer. Running is often a solitary sport, but guiding friends created bonds deeper than any single race.
When I crossed the Marine Corps Marathon finish line in 2022, I thought my biggest victory was hitting my goal time. Looking back now, it wasn’t. The true victory was sparking three friends’ running journeys, and in the process, discovering a new kind of confidence in myself.
Sometimes, the greatest races we run aren’t the ones where we’re chasing our own PRs; they’re the ones where we help others cross the finish line.
