Registration Number Seven

This week, I signed up for a 50K.

Well…hopefully.

As I was filling out my registration, I started thinking back to all the other times I’d done this. So I sat down and counted.

One…

Two…

Three…

Four…

Five…

Six…

This is actually the seventh time I’ve signed up for a 50K.

I had to laugh. I honestly didn’t realize the number was that high until I counted them all.

No, I haven’t completed six 50Ks.

In fact, I haven’t started one.

Looking back, my 50K history reads a little like a series of unfortunate events.

I signed up for my first 50K, the Seashore 50K, in December of 2019. Training was going well…until my own big toe decided it had other plans during a 16-mile training run. Who knew one toe could derail an ultramarathon dream?

In 2020, I registered for the Freight Train 50K. The race was canceled.

So I signed up for it again in 2021. This time, the race happened, but illness kept me from the starting line.

By 2022, I figured maybe the universe was trying to tell me something, so I stopped signing up for 50Ks altogether.

Turns out, that break was only temporary.

In 2023, I decided to double my chances and registered for both the Night Train 50K and the Freight Train 50K.

Surely one of them would work out.

Nope.

One became a DNS because of illness. The other because of injury.

Apparently, the universe appreciates irony.

In 2024, I was back again and registered for the Night Train 50K. This time, I tried to come back from injury too quickly.

Another DNS.

I took 2025 off from chasing ultramarathon dreams.

And now…

Here we are.

Registration number seven.

As I looked back over those six registrations, I realized something.

I don’t see six failures.

I see six different versions of myself, each one believing enough to say, “Maybe this is the year.”

As a running coach, I spend a lot of time reminding people that progress isn’t always a straight line. I coach runners through injuries, illnesses, family responsibilities, demanding jobs, and seasons when running simply has to take a back seat. I remind them that adjusting the plan isn’t the same as abandoning the dream.

Funny how sometimes the lessons we’re best at teaching are the ones we need to hear ourselves.

This registration isn’t about proving anything to anyone.

It’s about giving myself permission to keep believing in a dream that still matters to me.

Will next June finally be the year I stand on the starting line of my first 50K?

I hope so.

I’m going to train like it will be.

But after seven registrations, I’ve learned that I can’t control everything. Life has a way of rewriting even the best-laid plans.

What I can control is whether I continue to show up.

Whether I continue to train.

Whether I continue to believe this dream is worth chasing.

So here’s to registration number seven.

Not because I know how the story ends.

But because I refuse to let setbacks decide what’s possible.

Maybe this will finally be the year I earn my first 50K finish.

Maybe it won’t.

Either way, I’m proud of one thing.

After all these years, I’m still willing to click “Register.”

Because sometimes believing in yourself doesn’t look like crossing a finish line.

Sometimes it looks like giving yourself one more chance to get there.

Now…it’s time to train.

My Tirzepatide Journey: Week 8


I’m officially in week 8 of my tirzepatide journey, and I thought it was time for another update.

Over the first seven weeks, I’ve lost 4.5 pounds. Is it the dramatic transformation that some people experience? No. But after spending a long time watching the same one or two pounds come and go without making any real progress, I’m grateful to finally be moving in the right direction.

Next week I’ll increase my dose for the second time, so I’m curious to see how my body responds.

Overall, I’d say my experience has been very positive. I have noticed that my energy level is a little lower than usual, but so far it’s been manageable. The biggest difference is that the food noise has definitely quieted down. I simply don’t think about food the way I used to, and I don’t have much interest in eating just for the sake of eating.

Ironically, that means I have to be much more intentional about making sure I eat enough to support my active lifestyle. Between strength training twice a week with my trainer, training for a fall half marathon, attending yoga at least once a week, and fitting in extra walks whenever I can, my body still needs plenty of fuel—even if my appetite doesn’t always agree.

One of the biggest lessons I’ve learned is that I need to slow down when I eat. It’s surprisingly easy to eat past the point where my body is satisfied simply because I’m eating too quickly. When that happens, I definitely don’t feel my best afterward. I’ve also discovered that greasy foods and I aren’t getting along particularly well these days. My body lets me know pretty quickly when I’ve made that choice.

While I’m happy with the progress I’ve made, I wouldn’t say I’m thrilled just yet. From everything I’ve researched, many people don’t really start seeing more significant changes until months three through six. I’m hopeful that’s where I’ll begin noticing more of a difference—not just on the scale, but in my overall health as well.

As I’ve shared from the beginning, my goal has never been just weight loss. I’m hoping to improve my overall health while continuing to do the things I love—running, lifting, coaching, and staying active for many years to come.

I’ll continue sharing honest updates as I go, the good, the frustrating, and everything in between.

As always, if you have questions about my experience, don’t hesitate to reach out. I’m happy to share what’s worked for me, what I’ve learned, and what this journey has looked like so far.

Training Your Mind For The Miles Ahead

When most people think about running, they think about physical fitness. Stronger legs. Better endurance. Faster times.

As a running coach who works with both adults and children, I’ve learned that many running struggles have very little to do with fitness and a whole lot to do with what’s happening between our ears.

This is especially true for the adults I coach. Most are over 40 and bring decades of life experience to the starting line. They are balancing careers, raising children, caring for aging parents, managing households, and trying to carve out time for themselves. Their challenges often aren’t about whether they’re capable of running the miles. The challenge is managing the mental side of the sport.

The Mental Roadblocks

One of the biggest mental challenges runners face is comparison.

Maybe you have a running buddy who is naturally faster than you. Every run feels like a struggle to keep up. Instead of enjoying the miles, you’re constantly worried about falling behind.

Or perhaps your running partner brings a steady stream of negativity to every workout. The weather is too hot. The route is boring. The run is too long. The pace is too hard.

Whether we realize it or not, the people we spend our miles with can have a significant impact on our mindset. Running partners should challenge us, but they should also support us. If every run leaves you feeling defeated, it may be time to evaluate whether your running partnership is helping or hurting your progress.

Another common obstacle is unrealistic expectations.

Many runners remember what they could do ten, twenty, or even thirty years ago. They compare today’s body to the body they had when they were younger, recovering faster, sleeping more, and dedicating significantly more time to training.

The reality is that most adult runners are juggling far more responsibilities than they did in their twenties. They have careers, families, community commitments, and countless other demands on their time and energy.

The goal isn’t to train like your younger self. The goal is to train like the version of you that exists today.

That may mean adjusting expectations, extending training timelines, or redefining what success looks like. It may also mean taking an honest look at your goals and asking yourself whether they are realistic based on the time and energy you currently have available.

The Ghost of the Athlete You Used to Be

Sometimes our mental struggles during a run aren’t about the run at all. They’re about how we see ourselves.

Many runners are coming back from something—an injury, an illness, menopause, a major life event, or simply a long break from the sport. Yet when they lace up their shoes, they expect themselves to perform like the athlete they were years ago.

Sometimes we’re haunted by the ghost of our past athlete.

We remember the pace we used to run. The distances that felt easy. The races we completed. The version of ourselves that seemed stronger, faster, or more capable.

The problem is that we’re comparing today’s runner to yesterday’s runner.

It’s important to meet yourself where you are right now.

That doesn’t mean you should give up on your goals or stop believing in what’s possible. Many runners successfully return from setbacks and accomplish incredible things. But the path forward begins with accepting your current reality.

Give yourself grace.

Start from your current fitness, not from your memories.

Celebrate the small wins. Trust the process. Allow yourself the time needed to rebuild.

Your past athlete isn’t the enemy. That version of you proved what you’re capable of. But today’s athlete deserves the same respect, patience, and encouragement that you would give to any runner standing at the beginning of a new journey.

Building Mental Strength

The good news is that mental skills can be trained just like physical ones.

One of my favorite tools is having a mantra ready before you need it.

When a run gets difficult, your brain will start offering opinions. Not all of them are helpful.

A simple phrase such as:

  • One step at a time.
  • Strong and steady.
  • I can do hard things.
  • Forward is forward.

can help redirect your focus and quiet the negative chatter.

Music can be another powerful tool. Consider creating a playlist that you reserve only for the toughest parts of your runs. When your favorite songs appear at exactly the moment you need them, they can provide a surprising boost.

If you’re in a long training cycle, look for ways to break up the journey. A tune-up race can provide a fresh goal, a confidence boost, and an opportunity to celebrate progress before your primary event.

Most importantly, surround yourself with people who support what you’re trying to accomplish.

Sometimes the people who love us most don’t fully understand why we’re waking up before dawn to run long distances or spending months preparing for a race. That’s okay. Seek out fellow runners who understand the process and can remind you why you started when motivation begins to fade.

Finding Joy Along the Way

Not every run needs to be about pace, distance, or performance.

Sometimes the best thing you can do is give yourself something small to look forward to.

On a long run, I often encourage runners to find a way to break up the miles. Maybe that means running to the next mailbox, the next water stop, or the next mile marker. Sometimes it means challenging yourself to take one photo of something interesting, beautiful, or unexpected along the route.

These small mental breaks can shift your focus away from how much farther you have to go and help you stay present in the moment.

Running doesn’t have to be an endless pursuit of faster times. It can also be an opportunity to explore, reflect, connect, and appreciate.

The Finish Line

The longer I coach, the more convinced I become that running is as much a mental sport as a physical one.

Our thoughts can build us up or tear us down. They can help us persevere through challenges or convince us to quit before we’ve even given ourselves a chance.

The next time a run feels difficult, take a moment to ask yourself an important question:

Is my body struggling right now, or is it my mind?

The answer might surprise you.

And once you learn to train both, you’ll discover that you’re capable of far more than you ever imagined.

My Tirzepatide Journey: One Month In

I’m currently in the middle of week five of my GLP-1 journey. This past Friday, I took my fifth injection and had my first dosage increase. The dose doubled from what I had been taking during the first four weeks.

So far, I’ve been fortunate not to experience any significant negative side effects. I have noticed that I simply don’t feel like eating very often. Because of that, I’m making a conscious effort to ensure I’m getting enough nutrition each day. My focus continues to be on protein, fiber, and plenty of water to support both my overall health and my active lifestyle.

If we’re looking strictly at the scale, there isn’t much to report. During the first month, I’ve essentially lost and regained the same two to three pounds. Surprisingly, that doesn’t bother me nearly as much as it might have in the past because weight loss isn’t my primary goal in this journey.

For the past two years, I’ve been taking a statin to help lower my cholesterol. Unfortunately, I’m one of the people who experiences muscle soreness as a side effect. Most days, the discomfort sits somewhere between a four and a five on the pain scale. While that’s manageable, dealing with it day after day for two years has become exhausting—especially for someone who enjoys running, strength training, and staying active.

My hope is that improving my health markers through the GLP-1 will eventually allow me to reduce or even eliminate my need for the statin. That possibility is one of the biggest reasons I decided to pursue this path.

While the scale hasn’t changed much, I have noticed some encouraging signs. A few shirts that had become a little snug are fitting more comfortably again. Changes like that remind me that progress isn’t always reflected in a number. Of course, I also give a lot of credit to the time and effort I’m putting in at the gym. Strength training remains an important part of this process, and I’m committed to maintaining as much muscle as possible along the way.

As always, I’m grateful for everyone who has shared their own experiences with weight loss medications and for those who have supported my decision to try a GLP-1. Hearing your stories, advice, and encouragement has made this journey feel much less lonely.

I’m committed to continuing to share both the successes and the challenges as they come. My goal is to be transparent about what this experience is really like, because I know there are many others who are trying to make informed decisions about their own health. Every journey is different, but sometimes it helps simply to know that you’re not walking the path alone.

A Little Grace Goes A Long Way

For most of my life, grace was something you said before dinner.

Then, during a difficult season of my life, a dear friend used the word in a completely different way. As she listened to me talk through my frustrations, disappointments, and mistakes, she gently reminded me to give myself some grace.

At the time, I don’t think I fully understood what she meant.

Like many people, I had become very good at holding myself to impossibly high standards. I expected myself to get everything right, say the right thing, make the right decisions, and somehow never fall short. When I did make a mistake, I replayed it over and over in my mind, often showing myself far less compassion than I would ever show someone else.

It took me years to truly understand what my friend was trying to teach me.

The older I get, the more I realize that grace is not about excusing our mistakes or avoiding responsibility. It’s about recognizing that we are human. We are going to stumble. We are going to make poor choices, say the wrong thing, misunderstand someone, or simply fall short of our own expectations from time to time.

And that’s okay.

When a friend is struggling, most of us naturally offer kindness, understanding, and encouragement. We remind them that one mistake doesn’t define them. We tell them they’re doing the best they can. Yet so often, we refuse to offer ourselves that same compassion.

What if we did?

What if, instead of immediately criticizing ourselves, we paused and extended the same kindness inward? What if we acknowledged our imperfections without letting them become our identity?

I’ve found that life feels a little lighter when I do.

Giving ourselves grace doesn’t make us weaker or less accountable. It gives us room to learn, grow, and move forward. It softens the sharp edges of perfectionism and reminds us that our worth isn’t tied to flawless performance.

These days, I find myself using that word more and more—not just for myself, but when talking with others who are struggling. Maybe that’s because I finally understand what my friend was trying to tell me all those years ago.

Sometimes the most powerful thing we can do is simply offer ourselves a little grace.

Redefining Discipline

Discipline.

For most of my adult life, I wore that word like a badge of honor.

I was the person who got up at 3:30 in the morning to run 14 miles before work. For six summers, after those early morning runs, I spent my days working as a nanny for four children, taking them hiking, exploring parks, and keeping up with their endless energy.

I never questioned whether I could do it all. It wasn’t easy, but it felt normal. It was simply who I was.

Then, a few years ago, something changed.

The things that had always felt easy suddenly felt impossible. Some days I could barely get myself off the couch. Work that should have taken an hour seemed to take all day. Certifications I wanted to pursue sat unfinished. Even when I did accomplish something, it felt hard-fought and exhausting.

Most afternoons I needed a two-hour nap just to make it through the day.

The physical exhaustion was difficult, but the emotional toll was even harder.

I wasn’t just tired—I was questioning who I was.

Because when you’ve spent years identifying as someone who is disciplined, productive, and dependable, it’s easy to assume that struggling means you’re somehow failing.

I started wondering if I had become lazy.

Maybe I wasn’t working hard enough.

Maybe I just needed more willpower.

When I talked to my doctor, I got the response so many women hear:

“It’s probably just menopause.”

But deep down, I knew something wasn’t right.

Eventually, I sought a second opinion and finally got some answers. It turned out there was more going on than menopause alone. A thyroid issue was contributing to many of my symptoms. Treatment helped me start feeling more like myself, and more recently, adding estrogen has brought even more improvement.

As my energy returned, so did many of the things I had been missing.

I’m training consistently again. I’m completing my workouts. I’m getting my work done. I’m studying for a new certification. My colorful to-do lists are back, and I still get an unreasonable amount of satisfaction from checking things off.

But something else has changed too.

For a long time, I thought discipline meant pushing through no matter what.

Now I’m not so sure.

Looking back, I realize that during those difficult years, I wasn’t lacking discipline. In many ways, I was demonstrating it every single day. I kept showing up. I kept searching for answers. I kept doing what I could with the energy I had.

That may have looked different than it did before, but it still required strength.

Today, I feel more like myself than I have in years.

But I don’t think I’m becoming my old self again.

I think I’m becoming someone new.

Someone who still values discipline, goals, and hard work. Someone who still loves training plans, certifications, and crossing things off a list.

But also someone who understands that productivity is not the same thing as worth.

Someone who knows that rest is not weakness.

Someone who has learned that sometimes the strongest thing we can do is listen to our bodies instead of fighting them.

For years, I thought discipline was about never slowing down.

Now I think real discipline might be learning when to give yourself grace.

Two Weeks In: My GLP-1 Journey Update

Today marks two weeks since I started my GLP-1 journey, and I took my third injection this evening.

So far, things have been going well. I’ve lost 2.3 pounds, which may not sound like a huge number, but I’m happy to see the scale moving in the right direction. More importantly, I haven’t experienced any negative side effects. One of the biggest changes I’ve noticed is that I stay full much longer than I did before.

I have one more week at my current dose before increasing it, and I’m curious to see how my body responds as the dosage goes up.

From the beginning, I’ve been committed to approaching this process thoughtfully. I’m making a conscious effort to get enough water and protein each day, and I’m also making sure I’m eating enough to support my activity level. As a runner and coach, fueling my body properly is incredibly important to me.

I’ve spent quite a bit of time researching the relationship between endurance sports and GLP-1 medications. I know that as my dose increases and my appetite potentially decreases, I’ll need to pay close attention to my nutrition and make sure I’m giving my body what it needs for training, recovery, and everyday life.

I’m also staying consistent with strength training. Preserving muscle mass is a priority for me, and resistance training is one of the best tools we have for maintaining strength while losing weight.

While the number on the scale isn’t my primary measure of success, I won’t pretend it isn’t encouraging to see it move. At the same time, I’ve noticed something else: a few pairs of shorts that had been feeling a little snug are noticeably more comfortable. That’s a reminder that progress isn’t always fully reflected by a number. Sometimes the changes show up in how our clothes fit, how we move, how we feel, and how confidently we show up in our lives.

For now, I’m feeling positive and optimistic. This journey is still very new, but I’m learning a lot, paying attention to what my body is telling me, and taking things one week at a time.

As always, I’ll continue to share honest updates along the way. If you’re on a similar journey or have questions you’d rather ask privately, please feel free to reach out.

Starting a GLP-1: Why I Finally Said Yes

I started a GLP-1 medication this past Friday. Going on tirzepatide is something I resisted for a long time for a variety of reasons. Honestly, I thought I could do it on my own, just like I had so many times before.

My weight has gone up and down since my 30s, but eventually I was always able to lose it. And even when my weight fluctuated, the other numbers that mattered — blood sugar, cholesterol, blood pressure — were not just normal, they were really good.

A few years ago, though, things started to change. I began gaining weight again, and this time getting it off felt nearly impossible. My cholesterol climbed, and because of my strong family history of heart disease, that was concerning. Both of my parents died at the age of 70.

My doctor immediately put me on a statin, but unfortunately, like many women, I experienced significant side effects, including extreme muscle soreness and liver issues. I also worked to lower my cholesterol through diet changes and daily CoQ10 supplements. Around that same time, I discovered my thyroid levels were off as well. It took a while to get my thyroid regulated, but even after that, the weight still wasn’t coming off.

Of course, when you’re overweight, most people assume it’s simply a matter of eating too much and not moving enough — the old “calories in, calories out” argument. But bodies, especially women’s bodies in midlife, are often far more complicated than that.

Over time, my cholesterol slowly began to improve, though not as quickly as I would have liked. A couple of months ago, I also started working regularly with a trainer again. I’ve been running more, walking more, focusing on strength training, and making protein a priority. Those changes have helped, and my numbers are moving in the right direction, but I’m still carrying more weight than is healthy for me.

My goal is not to be skinny. My goal is to be healthy, strong, active, and capable for as long as possible. I’m hopeful that this GLP-1 medication will simply become one more tool in my toolbox to help me get there.

I’m sharing this because I think it’s important to be transparent when talking about weight loss, health, and fitness. Too often, people gate-keep the methods or tools they’re using. I understand that everyone has their reasons for that, but I also think it can unintentionally do a disservice to the people watching and looking to us for guidance.

When we make health or weight loss look effortless without being honest about what’s actually helping us, we can create unrealistic expectations and potentially make others feel like they’re failing when they’re not. The truth is many of us are using a combination of tools, support, education, and lifestyle changes to improve our health. There shouldn’t be shame in being honest about that.

This is just the beginning of this chapter for me, and I plan to share updates along the way. If you have questions or want to reach out privately, please feel free — I’m always happy to have honest conversations about health, fitness, and this stage of life.

It’s Never Too Late To Fuel Your Fire

At 57 years old, I’m starting a new business.

There are days when that feels exciting and empowering… and other days when it feels absolutely terrifying.

Starting something new later in life comes with a unique kind of vulnerability. You’re old enough to understand the risks. Old enough to know things may not go perfectly. Old enough to hear all the voices that tell women at this age to stay comfortable, stay realistic, and stop chasing new dreams.

But deep down, I knew I wasn’t done growing.

And maybe that’s exactly why Fuel Your Fire came into my life at the right time.

One of the things I love most about this business is that it was created from real conversations between women who are living full, complicated, beautiful lives. Women balancing careers, families, aging parents, changing bodies, shifting identities, big dreams, and the constant pressure to take care of everyone else first.

Somewhere along the way, so many women stop asking themselves an important question:

What lights me up at this stage of my life?

That question matters.

Because I don’t believe women are meant to slowly disappear into the background as they get older. I believe we are still meant to evolve. To explore. To build. To learn. To connect. To rediscover parts of ourselves that may have been buried under years of responsibility and survival mode.

That’s the heart of Fuel Your Fire.

We want to create community-based experiences where women can reconnect with themselves and with each other. Spaces where wellness is looked at holistically—not just fitness or nutrition, but confidence, purpose, connection, joy, growth, creativity, and support. We want women to walk away feeling inspired, energized, and reminded that they matter too.

And honestly, this business is doing that for me already.

It’s reminding me that excitement still matters at 57.

Passion still matters at 57.

Dreams still matter at 57.

I think there’s this unspoken idea that reinvention belongs to younger people. That starting businesses, chasing big ideas, or trying something new should happen in your 20s or 30s. But I don’t think growth has an expiration date.

Sometimes the second half of life is where the real magic begins.

Not because we suddenly become fearless, but because we finally understand how precious time really is.

I also think a lot about my granddaughter when I reflect on this journey. I want her to grow up seeing women who continue becoming. Women who are willing to take chances on themselves. Women who understand that fear and courage often walk side by side.

I want her to know she never has to stop growing into herself.

Truthfully, I don’t know exactly where this journey will lead. Building something new is messy. It’s uncertain. There are moments of self-doubt and moments where I wonder if I’m completely out of my mind.

But there’s also energy.
Purpose.
Connection.
Hope.

And maybe that’s the biggest lesson I’m learning right now:

It’s never too late to fuel your fire.

Not at 40.
Not at 57.
Not ever.

Because the things that excite us, challenge us, and call us forward are often the very things that keep us fully alive.

When Grief Shows Up

Grief is a funny thing. It can hit you at the strangest times.

Just today, I had finished my run and sat down to stretch when a wave of overwhelming sadness came over me. Like most people, I’ve experienced moments like this off and on for as long as I can remember. Sometimes these waves are tied to childhood, other times to more recent losses.

There was a time when I used to fight these moments. I didn’t want to feel them. But as I’ve gotten older, I’ve come to understand that it’s important to embrace grief when it shows up.

Sometimes it’s the loss of someone I’ve loved that rises to the surface. I think of my grandmother, Mary, who I lost when I was six years old. I loved her deeply, and I know she loved me just as much. Other times, it’s dear friends—Joanna, Rachel, Catherine—whose absence I feel.

And sometimes, the grief is more abstract. It’s the loss of a relationship I never really had, like the one with my own mother, who chose to leave when I was just eight years old. Other times, it’s grief for something I thought might be part of my life, but never came to be.

Whatever form it takes, I’ve learned to let the grief come. I try to ride the wave instead of resisting it. There are usually tears. But eventually, when I’m thinking about the people I’ve lost, the memories begin to soften the edges, and sometimes even bring a smile.

Not all grief transforms that way. Some losses—like the relationship with my mother—still sit heavy.

Not all grief turns into something soft or beautiful. Some of it stays heavy. Some of it still hurts in ways that time hasn’t fixed—and maybe never will.

And I’m no longer trying to fix it.

Because grief isn’t a problem to solve. It’s a reflection of love, of longing, of what mattered—and still matters.

It’s part of me now. Not something I carry reluctantly, but something I’ve made space for.

Because every loss, every absence, every “what could have been” has shaped the way I see the world, the way I love the people who are still here, and the way I show up for myself.

Grief didn’t just break me open.

It changed me.

And at some point, I stopped resisting that—and started honoring it.