Half Marathons and Tofu Aid Stations: Running Charlotte without a traditional training block

Ten years ago, Theresa Dornburg hated exercise.

The thought of movement for fun—or worse, for sport—was foreign until she found herself reluctantly signing up for cross country in high school. To her surprise, she liked it. Maybe even loved it. Not because she was the fastest. But because it was quiet. Independent. Less about team pressure, more about chasing her own progress.

Fast forward a decade: she’d dabbled in 5Ks and 10Ks, but it wasn’t until she rallied a group of restaurant coworkers to train for a local half marathon that she really considered distance running. Their “training plan” was mostly running together on shared Mondays off. Some weeks it was three miles. Sometimes five.

But what stood out to Theresa wasn’t the finish line. It was the camaraderie. The shared effort. The fact that she, someone who once dreaded movement, now found herself rounding up coworkers to run 13 miles... for fun.

That half marathon was in December. By the following fall, Theresa was toeing the line at the Charlotte Marathon.

Summer in North Carolina hit hard. Her hours at the restaurant ramped up. She was on her feet all day and couldn’t stomach the idea of long weekend runs when rest was already hard to come by. Her peak long run was 12 miles (one week before race day).

And yet: she showed up. With a playlist her family made her. In brand-new running socks from the expo. With her friend—who showed up at 7:20am on the dot, just as the gun was going off.

They started together. Talked through the early miles. Shared a moment around mile 10 when emotions started to rise. “I’m just so glad we’re doing this together,” her friend told her.

The course split at mile 13. Half marathoners peeled off toward the finish line. Marathoners looped away into another figure-eight through Charlotte.

Theresa didn’t quit.

She ran through familiar streets near the restaurant. Her coworkers surprised her around mile 16 with what she describes as a “secret tofu and beer aid station.” She couldn’t stomach the tofu. But the gesture carried her.

Her friend, slightly ahead by then, waited for her at the same aid station on the way back. They ran the final miles together—laughing, pushing, walking the hills at mile 25, and willing each other forward.

She crossed the finish line as the announcer said her name.

She teared up. Her family was there. Her boyfriend told her she was the coolest person he knew. Her mom was shocked she ran the whole thing.

It wasn’t perfect. She didn’t have a coach, or a long taper, or even a structured plan. But Theresa ran a marathon on grit, friendship, and the stubborn belief that she could.

She’s planning to do it again. This time with a real plan.

And maybe fewer tofu-based aid stations.

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