June 23, 2026 · Matt Citardi
There's a moment in every marathon where I seriously question my judgment. Around mile 18, the legs get heavy and the math gets brutal. After 30 years in LIMS, I've stopped thinking that feeling is a coincidence.
There's a moment in every marathon I've run where I seriously question my judgment.
Not at the start line — the start line is electric. You're rested, tapered, and surrounded by people who made the same questionable decision you did. Not at mile ten, either. Mile ten feels fine. Mile ten is a lie.
It happens somewhere around mile 18. The legs get heavy. The math gets brutal. You've come too far to quit and you're not close enough to smell the finish. You're just... in it.
I've been in LIMS implementations that felt exactly the same way.
After 30 years in this industry, I've stopped thinking of that as a coincidence.
Nobody just shows up and runs 26.2 miles. You build a schedule. You log long runs on Sundays. You hit midweek targets, rest when the plan says rest, and trust that the cumulative work will carry you across the finish line on race day.
LIMS implementations work the same way. The projects I've watched succeed had one thing in common before go-live: a plan that everyone believed in, with milestones that actually meant something. The ones that struggled either had no plan, or had a plan nobody looked at after kickoff. Winging a marathon gets you injured or DNF'd. Winging an implementation gets you a go-live that isn't.
Every marathoner knows the wall. Mile 20 is where it lives — though sometimes it waits until 22 when you thought you were clear. But it comes.
In implementations, that wall has a name: go-live week. Data is messier than expected. A workflow that passed UAT behaves differently with real samples. Someone in accounting just realized the report they need wasn't in scope. The go-live date is fixed. Everyone is tired.
This isn't a failure. This is the wall. The teams that make it through trained for it. They had a cutover plan. They had a hypercare window built in. They defined what "good enough to go live" looked like before the wall hit, not during it. You can't think your way through mile 20. You execute the plan you built when your head was clear.
I've run with pacers. The good ones are invaluable — they know the course, they set the tempo, they keep you from burning out in the first half because you felt great and got ambitious. They tell you when to push and when to hold.
But they're not running the race for you. My job is to set the tempo, flag the hazards, and bring 30 years of pattern recognition to your implementation. What I can't do is run it for you. The lab director who owns the process still owns the process. The end users who will live in this system every day need to be part of shaping it. A good implementation consultant builds your capability, not your dependency.
After my first marathon, I crossed the finish line, collected my medal, called my family, and sat down on a curb for twenty minutes because I genuinely wasn't sure my legs would work again.
Go-live day feels like that. The system is live. The team is exhausted and relieved. There's usually a cake. And then, the next morning, the real work starts: recovery, post-race analysis, what hurt, what worked, what you'd train differently next time.
In LIMS terms: hypercare, optimization, user adoption monitoring, and the Phase 2 conversations deferred to get across the finish line. The labs that get the most value from their LIMS treat go-live as the starting gun for continuous improvement, not the end of the project.
In road racing, DNS means Did Not Start. DNF means Did Not Finish. DNF is brutal — you trained for months, you got to the start line, and something went wrong. It hurts. But you got there. You learned something. You'll come back.
DNS is different. That's the race you registered for and never got to. The implementation that stayed in committee until the budget expired. The vendor decision deferred until the champion who drove it left the company, and the whole thing quietly died. I've seen labs spend more time analyzing the decision than they would have spent on the implementation itself. A messy finish line is still a finish line.
I've run 11 marathons. I've been in this industry for 30 years. The pattern is the same every time.
Respect the distance. Build the plan. Trust the process. And when you hit the wall — and you will — keep moving.
Think. Plan. Deliver. Experience Matters.
If your lab is planning a LIMS implementation, selection, or optimization project, I'd welcome the conversation.