Julie B. Hughes's Blog, page 2

Butterflies. Self Doubt. A Letter.

Thank you!

In January 2024, I told my family I wanted to run a 50 mile race. While we were having dinner, I shared my big news with them. I had butterflies in my stomach as I looked across the table and blurted out, “I’m planning to run 50 miles in November and wanted to make sure you're all on board.”

Jeff chewed his food, the kid’s eyes widened, “Wow. cool Mom!”

I waited to see what Jeff would say as Brindsley asked, “Where is the race, and can we go?”

I smiled, “Of course! I want you all to be my crew.” Delaney and Brindsley smiled, “Awesome.”

My stomach relaxed, and Jeff put his fork down. I don’t remember what he said, but I remember feeling at ease knowing he was behind me and all in.

Doubt was loud when I sat down to register for the race. Can I really find time for this training and still handle everything else? I clicked the sign-up button, remembering what my coach said in February when I asked about the time commitment. I wanted to run this, but I wondered how long I’d be away from my family to train each week. 

Coach Joel replied, “The time commitment will increase slightly, though not in such a way that time away from family becomes a significant issue. And if it does, we can be creative with layering workouts so the impact is minimal.”

His response was reassuring that this was doable. I believed I could make it happen, especially with my family on board. Yet doubt didn’t fade as training began. It lingered during those early morning runs, whispering that I was spending too much time away. I needed to be home with my kids, not out on trails for hours, and I shouldn’t fall behind on the dishes, laundry, and dust gathering in every corner of the house. I laugh as I write this, recalling the last time I dusted.

I sometimes fell behind on these things, and you know what? The sink didn’t explode. My husband didn’t yell at me. The kids learned to pitch in, and we all worked as a team. It wasn’t about having more time but scheduling differently and prioritizing what mattered.

A few months into training, my son wrote me a letter.

He said he was thankful to have a mom who enjoyed running and writing because it inspired him to do the same. That’s when it all clicked. I realized I wasn’t taking anything away from them by training. I showed my kids what it takes to work toward a big goal, and we had many conversations about Aunt Phoebe. I want them to know that doubt will sneak in, but it doesn’t have to hold them back.

I had another lingering doubt: my stomach. My stomach was unpredictable during training. Sometimes, it behaved well; other times, it didn’t. I kept showing up regardless, practicing my fueling strategy and trying different foods. My coach gave me a plan: fuel early and often, and stop at every aid station. I wasn't sure how my stomach would feel or if it would cooperate on race day, but I kept training anyway.

The race was still months away, but I was already becoming someone different from the person who sat at the kitchen table in January. Every training run, moment in the kitchen, and entry in my notebook revealed doubts, yet I kept showing up. Doubt would not stop me.

Next Monday, I’ll share what I found in the middle miles.

Thank you so much for being here with me,

Julie

Cheers! See you soon.

You’re invited to write together! See you today at 11 am (EST).

We’ll gather in silent solidarity to work on our creative projects, starting with a writing prompt to warm up. No experience is necessary.

Be part of our creative community! Use the link below to enter our Zoom room, and feel free to invite a friend to write alongside you. Together, we’ll discover our creative voices and find the courage to put our stories on the page.

Let’s write together. Let’s grow together.

Community writing session

Wednesdays in person!

Move. Write. Connect. meets this Wednesday at 9:30 a.m. at Freedom of Espresso in Liverpool, NY. This will be our last fall session.

Click the button below to sign up and join us.

Move. Write. Connect.

Trail running on a throbbing ankle

Hey all!

If you missed part one of this series, listen or read below.

Now for part two:

Photo by author: Morgan Hill Forest

By the second aid station, the blood on my hand had dried, and I forgot about it again. My ankle throbbed and ached. It felt good to stop for a moment. I filled my flasks with Skratch, a hydration drink, and was really excited that they offered this at the aid stations. I use it for training; this was the first time I saw Skratch at a race. I ate half a banana and thanked the volunteers. Let’s go!

The three runners took off, and I wanted to catch up. Another steep climb called for power hiking, so I inhaled an energy gel, recalling my coach’s advice. Meanwhile, I lost sight of the runners. Julie, run your race. I was alone, paying attention to the pink flags so I wouldn’t get off course. The race director recommended we carry our cell phones, and I also printed out the course map just in case. I tucked both into the back pocket of my vest. This was the first race where I carried my phone, and I didn’t want it to distract me. I’m glad it never crossed my mind.

Steep switchbacks demanded my focus while my ankle hummed in the background. I took deep breaths, enjoying the tall evergreens, pine needle scent, and technical terrain. What a beautiful day to be in the woods. I smiled. I refused to let my ankle pain ruin my mood. This is trail running. I was getting a real taste of it today, especially as I stubbed my toe for the 20th time. I had to laugh. I was sure I was lifting my feet, then WHACK! I’d wince in pain, stumble or wobble to keep my balance, and, surprise, I didn’t fall. My poor toenails.

I repeated: It comes in waves, it comes in waves, and courage over comfort—a lot! Come on, Julie, dig deep. I was all alone—no runner ahead or behind me. I had to rely on my mental training to keep going. I worked hard to stay calm and relaxed. I’d be lying if I said my mind wasn’t trying to go to dark places. You might have broken your foot. You should stop. Why are you doing this? I countered with: I want to do this. I dedicated this run to finishing my book, MILES of MEANING. I recalled my 50 run buddies and decided I could finish the race with a bum ankle for them. A marathon was nothing compared to what they’ve endured. I looked at what was going well. My stomach was happy, no issues, and my nutrition was on point. I felt strong, except for my ankle. I repeated my mantras like a champ, remembering why I was out here.

The third aid station became my next focus. When I arrived, one of the volunteers took my flasks and filled them while I ate a banana and energy chews. It was great to have their support and chat for a bit. I tucked my flasks into my running vest and headed back the way I came. Seeing other runners heading toward me was encouraging. Maybe I’ll have a run buddy soon. 

I power-hiked a good stretch up the steep switchbacks and was thankful my ankle had only a dull ache during this part. I sipped from my flask, took deep breaths of pine, and felt content just putting one foot in front of the other. I let go of my time goal and appreciated that I could keep going. One more aid station, then the finish. Ten more miles to go.

To be continued...

Do you have questions on running, writing, or the book: MILES of MEANING: from Doubter to JFK 50 Mile Finisher? Reply to this email or submit them using the form below. I would love to share your questions on an upcoming podcast.

Questions for an upcoming podcast

Thank you for being here with me. Four years in the making!

Keep showing up.

Julie

P.S. I’ve added more videos to the It’s Your Move channel. If you want to subscribe, click the button below. My goal is to add a new movement each Friday.

It's Your Move

What's your 50 Miles?

Hey RWC,

You know that voice that whispers you can’t do the thing? The one that talks you out of big goals before you even start?

Maybe it squeaks like Aunt Phoebe: “You can’t” or “Don’t even try.”

I spent months listening to that voice before registering for the JFK 50 Mile, and here’s what I learned: the most challenging part isn’t the distance. It’s choosing to start despite the doubt.

That’s what Miles of Meaning: From Doubter to JFK 50 Mile Finisher is about. It’s what early readers tell me they’re finding in these pages—permission to face their own doubts and go for it.

Maybe your 50 miles isn’t a footrace. Maybe it’s:

That physical goal that scares you

Starting something new when you feel completely unqualified

Finally stepping out of the small space you’ve been playing in

Whatever it is, let this book be your companion during times when doubt feels overwhelming. When you face the choice to listen to the voice that says you can’t, I hope this book gives you the courage to push through that doubt and keep moving forward.

So, what’s your 50 miles? The thing you’re talking yourself out of?

Hit reply and tell me. I want to know. I want to cheer you on.

(Thank you to everyone who’s already purchased, reviewed, and shared it. Marketing a book is an endurance event—your support means everything.)

Lace up. Let’s go,
Julie

P.S. The doubt doesn’t disappear. You just learn to run with it.

Thank you, writing buddies! See you real soon.

You’re invited to write together! See you today at 11 am (EST).

We’ll gather in silent solidarity to work on our creative projects, starting with a writing prompt to warm up. No experience is necessary.

Be part of our creative community! Use the link below to enter our Zoom room, and feel free to invite a friend to write alongside you. Together, we’ll discover our creative voices and find the courage to put our stories on the page.

Let’s write together. Let’s grow together.

Community writing session

Move. Write. Connect. Two more sessions this fall.

Move. Write. Connect. meets this Wednesday at 9:30 a.m. at Freedom of Espresso in Liverpool, NY. Click the button below to sign up and join us. We have two more sessions left for the fall.

Move. Write. Connect.

Face down on the trail at mile 7

Photo by author: Morgan Hill Forest

I was face-down on the trail, seven miles into the Morgan Hill Forest Marathon. My right ankle throbbed, my hand was bleeding, and all I could do was laugh.

Let me back up to the beginning.

We couldn’t have asked for better weather—40s warming up to mid-60s, clear skies, and dry trails. Fast times were in store for us all. This was my first time running the Morgan Hill Forest Marathon, aka The Meat Grinder. I was looking forward to being in the woods all morning.

I was dedicating this race to finishing my latest book, MILES of MEANING: from Doubter to JFK 50 Mile Finisher. I needed a break from the screens, the editing, and the long hours sitting at the computer.

I craved silence, evergreen trees with their aroma, and no responsibilities other than placing one foot in front of the other. My only focus: run, breathe, stay upright, and eat. It was going to be a great day.

I smiled as we gathered at the start line, grateful to be healthy and strong enough to toe the line. My heart raced with excitement at what lay ahead. I was eager for this new adventure in the forest, a marathon trail race.

I stood at the start, recalling my mantras, reminding myself to fuel early and often, and to have fun. I was choosing to be here after all. Whatever happens, be grateful for this time to unplug.

Of course, I had a time goal—run under 6 hours—yet I wouldn’t let that steal my joy if it didn’t happen.

My why to keep going for this race wasn’t just time. It was celebrating being done with the book, proving to myself that I can still be an endurance runner despite all the changes my body, bones, and mind were experiencing because of perimenopause, and practicing my mental toughness.

I ran behind a group of runners for the first 6 miles. They weren’t that far ahead, and once I made my way out of the trail and onto a rocky, wide, downhill section, I was eager to gain some ground and catch up. I picked up my pace. I felt strong. I wanted to keep them in my sights.

I was moving fast but didn’t think much about it—only rocks, no roots. I got complacent. Pow! My right ankle rolled, and pain was immediate. I limped and kept trying to “run it off.” For a few minutes, I questioned whether I’d need to stop and walk or stop for good. Yet the more I ran, or hobbled, the more the pain decreased until I could return to my regular cadence.

Despite the pain, I could still see the three runners ahead and focused on them instead of my throbbing ankle. It’s okay, you’re fine. Then, a mile later, I found myself on the ground. My left foot caught a rock or root, and I fell hard on my left side and shoulder. It stung. I hurried off the ground, brushing dirt off as I ran. What just happened! I couldn’t help but laugh. A good ankle roll six miles in, and now a fall. I still had 19 miles to go.

This trail was beating me up just like the editing process beat me up. I rolled my eyes at the thought and smiled. I’m so happy to be done with editing. This is nothing.

My eyes scanned the evergreens. My nose inhaled the great pine needle scent. Despite hurting all over, I was celebrating. No more editing! I could have kept editing for another year or more—the adding, the deleting, the rearranging—but I didn’t want to, just like I didn’t want to stay on the ground overthinking this fall.

Perfect doesn’t exist. Isn’t that freeing to know?

I could lie on the ground and wallow, overthink, and yell at myself. Or I could get up and get back to it. So that’s what I did. I reminded myself to listen to my encourager and stay brave.

As I settled back into a rhythm, I got more mindful about picking up my feet. I had to pay attention to my footing. I couldn’t afford to twist my ankle again. I preferred the fall over the ankle roll. It hurt, but nothing like my ankle.

Nineteen miles to go. That’s when I noticed my right hand was bleeding. Where did this come from? I racked my brain for the next two miles. How did I cut my hand? Then it dawned on me—Oh, that’s right. Remember when you ran your fist into the tree? I was like Rocky Balboa out here on the trail. My running arms took a swing at the tree, and now it was bleeding, swollen, and bruised. Injured, but no pain. It looked like I’d been in a boxing match. Poor tree.

Pain is weird. An excellent example of why injury doesn’t always mean pain, and pain doesn’t always mean injury.

To be continued...

A BIG thank you for your reviews, spreading the word, and ordering your copy of MILES of MEANING: from Doubter to JFK 50 Mile Finisher. It means a lot. Marketing a book is like an ultramarathon; I would rather run one than market a book. It’s not a strength of mine, however, I’m learning what I know about ultras— be patient, show up, and find joy in the long game.

Thank you for being here with me,

Julie

What are you grateful for?

This is the question we end every Move. Write. Connect. session with. We take a moment to write one or two sentences in our notebooks.

In a world where so much feels beyond our control, pausing daily to practice gratitude matters— not just for you but for those around you.

What are you grateful for today?

Would you share in the comments below?

You'll Never Be Ready

Felicia and I at the start line of the JFK 50 Mile (2024)

I stood on that start line of the JFK 50 Mile and questioned everything.

Did I do enough long runs?

Will my gut handle the nutrition?

Am I ready for this?

I even questioned my power walking speed when runners pulled ahead at mile 1. I’ve recognized that readiness is a story we tell ourselves to avoid starting. We collect information, plan, and wait when we feel “ready enough.” But we will never feel ready for something big or new—for something we’ve never done before.

MILES of MEANING: from Doubter to JFK 50 Mile Finisher is my fourth book, and I still didn’t feel “qualified” or “ready” to hit publish. So the question becomes: Will we go for it when doubt stirs our minds and hearts?

HECK YES! (say it with me)

At mile 27, I wasn’t more prepared than I was at mile 1. I was just in it. The doubts didn’t vanish; I just got better at not letting them consume me. I heard the doubt, but I listened to the encourager.

Maybe your 50 miles isn’t a race. Maybe it’s the conversation you keep rehearsing but never have, the creative project you’re almost ready to start, or the career change you’ll make when the timing is right.

Is the timing ever right? Will we ever be fully ready? I don’t know about you, but I’m not sure I'm fully ready for much of anything. (hello motherhood)

Take a chance on yourself and go for it. Even if it doesn’t end up how you expected, you’ll learn and grow more than if you’d waited. The miles teach you, but only if you start them.

Are you willing to feel the doubt and show up anyway?

I believe in you!

Julie

What’s your mile 1—the thing you keep waiting to feel “ready” for? Reply and tell me. If you’ve already started something while unready, tell me that too. What did the first mile teach you?

Join us! Write together each Monday on Zoom

You’re invited to write together! See you today at 11 am (EST).

We’ll gather in silent solidarity to work on our creative projects, starting with a writing prompt to warm up. No experience is necessary.

Be part of our creative community! Use the link below to enter our Zoom room, and feel free to invite a friend to write alongside you. Together, we’ll discover our creative voices and find the courage to put our stories on the page.

Let’s write together. Let’s grow together.

Community writing session

Is your body asking for movement, but your mind keeps saying “later”?

Move. Write. Connect. meets this Wednesday at 9:30 a.m. at Freedom of Espresso in Liverpool, NY. Click the button below to sign up and join us.

Move. Write. Connect.

What Readers Are Saying About MILES of MEANING

Today’s episode is special. My book MILES of MEANING just launched, and the response from early readers has blown me away. Instead of me talking about the book, I’m going to step back and share what early readers are saying—in their own words. I think their words will resonate with you.

If you’ve ever doubted yourself, wondered if you could do something hard, or needed proof that transformation is possible, these stories are for you.

So grab a coffee, a tea, and settle in.

If these stories inspired you, grab your copy on my website or head to Amazon and tell me what resonates.

Thank you, Mom, Leigh, Felicia, Syl, Stephanie, Errol, Georgia, and Aunt Linda, for celebrating with me. What a great day to move, write, and eat cake!

Pub Day is Here!

I’m dropping in an extra day into your inbox to share some exciting news! MILES of MEANING: from Doubter to JFK 50 Mile Finisher is now available.

Woohoo!

Buy now

Here are what readers are saying…

Julie’s dedication to running and family is fierce. Not wanting to sacrifice time away from her family, she shows how it’s possible to still pursue her goal of completing the JFK 50 Mile, and she shares what she has learned along the way in this very insightful and inspiring book.

— Felicia Case, JFK finisher

The JFK 50 Mile is more than miles on a map—it’s a journey of the mind and heart. In Miles of Meaning, Julie reminds us that resilience is not the absence of doubt, but the choice to keep moving through it. Her stories prove that the human spirit, fueled by courage and positivity, can carry us farther than we ever imagined—on the trail, and in life.

—Katie Lowe, JFK 50 Communications Director, three-time JFK 50 Mile Finisher and counting

The JFK 50 medal signifies so much more than completing the race. The journey to get ready for an Ultra Marathon requires the type of discipline, determination, family support, and grit that very few people are willing to commit to. In this memoir, you’ll discover how these principles can revolutionize your approach to any big goal—business, relationships, or personal growth.

— Billy Rudd

Julie’s engaging writing truly encapsulates the grit and dedication required to successfully complete the JFK 50 Mile. The attention to detail in race preparation and the race itself provides a credible resource for future ultramarathon runners.

— Quinn Rundgren, JFK runner, 2LT US Army

Julie lays her heart bare in her brilliantly captured journey of training for, and finishing, the JFK 50 Mile Ultramarathon. Through grit, laughter, injury, tears, and determination, she draws the reader into what it feels like to be a true champion. Grab your tissues and be prepared to cheer.

—Spice, Three-time Top 100 Female Finisher, JFK 50 Mile Ultramarathon

Thank you for being here each week with me. Please feel free to share with someone you love. It means a lot.

God bless,

Julie

Another Sneak Peek

Hi Run to Write Community,

I’m excited to share another excerpt from my upcoming memoir, MILES of MEANING: from Doubter to JFK 50 Mile Finisher. The paperback book will be published tomorrow (Woohoo!) The eBook will be available on October 14, 2025. If you prefer the eBook over the paperback, you can pre-order now.

Thank you for your interest and for spreading the word. It means a lot to me.

Keep showing up,

Julie

Pub day is tomorrow!

Chapter 17

Meaning to the Miles

I arranged my race clothes and bib number on the coffee table. I placed four safety pins in each hole to secure the number to my shirt in the morning. I stared at the number, 843, in disbelief. I was really here. I get to pin this bib number on. I get to run the JFK 50 Mile.

The final item in my running vest held special significance: the string of beads with fifty names, each mile dedicated to someone touched by cancer. Their courage and resilience would fuel each step forward, adding meaning to every mile. When the going got tough, their names would keep me moving. Remember your why, a mantra to shift my thoughts to the names accompanying me on the run. I had 50 running buddies to support me every step. I was honored to run with them and for them.

The JFK 50 Mile course was unique. It comprised three distinct sections: the Appalachian Trail, the Chesapeake and Ohio Canal towpath, and rolling country roads for the final 8.4 miles. The race organizers positioned crew stops at critical junctures: Weverton Cliffs at mile 15, where runners emerge from the Appalachian Trail; Antietam Aqueduct at mile 27.3; and Taylor’s Landing at mile 38.7, my lifelines, where I could refuel, adjust my gear, and draw strength from my crew. I felt relieved when Felicia offered to share her crew members with me. Jeff wasn’t able to get the weekend off from work. Every ultrarunner knows the importance of dedicated crew members; they assist with nutrition timing, manage gear transitions, and provide essential moral support when the miles grow long. I was grateful I wouldn’t have to do this alone.

As I zipped the final bag closed and double-checked my lists, I felt that familiar mix of anticipation, pre-race nerves, and respect for the challenge ahead. I had no idea what would happen the next day, but I promised to bring a smile and enjoy this new adventure. I was toeing the line of this historic race—I get to do this. I’m choosing to do this.

*****

I tossed and turned all night. As one of the many runners who didn’t sleep well the night before a race, I had anticipated this. My eyes closed as I recalled Joel’s coaching: “Don’t get behind on your nutrition. Stop at every aid station and have fun.”

Should I pack one more gel just in case? Do I have enough nutrition? Should I wear pants instead of shorts? It’s going to be over 40 degrees—wear shorts. I questioned every decision. I’d hoped that writing everything in my notebook before bed would quiet my restless mind, but here I was, wrestling through the same doubts. This was to be expected, I reminded myself. I was attempting something I’d never done.

Oh, I’d better check my phone. Is my alarm set? I rolled over and reached for my phone on the nightstand. I squinted at the screen. It was set. I rolled back over. Okay, let me try to get some sleep.

The hotel was silent. All I could hear was the heater humming. Julie, take some deep breaths. You are ready. I drifted off to sleep for what felt like mere minutes before my alarm rang. I sat up and looked at the clock—3 a.m.—race day! I turned on all the lights, prayed, and reviewed the mantras I had written down the night before. Then, I jumped in the shower and repeated them over and over. Once dressed, I had oatmeal, a banana, and almond butter. I took a few sips of the hotel coffee before returning to my glass of water. My stomach was tap dancing, yet I managed to finish all of my breakfast. I did not want to start the race without fuel.

Deep breaths.

I fastened my watch and placed the ‘keep going’ beaded bracelet that my daughter, Delaney, made for me on my wrist. The blue and yellow beads made me smile as I laced and double-knotted my sneakers. I stuffed my black gloves in my vest, then grabbed all my bags to head down to the hotel lobby to meet Felicia and our crew. They would be driving us to the start line.

Today we will run and finish 50.2 miles. Let’s Go!

I hope you’re curious to read more of the story. MILES of MEANING: from Doubter to JFK 50 Mile Finisher will be available tomorrow for purchase on Amazon and Bookshop. (Bookshop option may take a few weeks, just FYI).

If you would like a signed copy, please reply to this email.

Thank you so much!

Julie

Go, Writers, Go!

Join us!

You’re invited to write together! See you today at 11 am (EST).

We’ll gather in silent solidarity to work on our creative projects, starting with a writing prompt to warm up. No experience is necessary.

Be part of our creative community! Use the link below to enter our Zoom room, and feel free to invite a friend to write alongside you. Together, we’ll discover our creative voices and find the courage to put our stories on the page.

Let’s write together. Let’s grow together.

Community writing session

Join me in person at Freedom of Espresso in Liverpool, NY to— Move. Write. Connect. and celebrate MILES of MEANING: from Doubter to JFK 50 Mile Finisher.

9:30 a.m. - Full event - $20 drop-in fee. Click the button below for details and to sign up.

11 a.m.-11:30 a.m. - Free celebration! No registration is needed, so stop by to celebrate! We would love to see you. Come eat cake with us!

Move. Write. Connect.

You don't need to be a runner

Last month, I stood before a group of high school cross-country runners, sneakers laced, with my children by my side. My former coach—the same man who coached me decades ago—asked me to share something inspiring. I thought for a long time about what I wanted to say. I wanted to share something that might matter. I wanted to tell the truth about the voice that sneaks in when the pain and doubt come.

Here’s what I said:

When you toe the start line or have a goal you want to achieve, whose voice do you hear? The inner critic or judge, or the encourager and believer? In my book Staring Down a Dream: A Mom, a Marathoner, a Mission, I discuss my inner critic (whom I’ve named Aunt Phoebe) and why it’s important to recognize the thoughts that keep us playing small or hinder us from reaching big goals or dreams. The voice we choose to listen to matters—not only in running but in life.

Let me give you an example.

Below is an excerpt from Staring Down a Dream. This begins with me running a half-marathon as a training race. The focus was on my nutrition timing and practicing my mantras when the pain came.

I got to mile five, taking in a gel and hydration, focusing on nutrition while staying relaxed. Around mile eight, a few runners passed me, and my chest tightened. My arms felt heavy and my shoulders tensed. I felt rigid as I watched them pull ahead of me. I noticed it right away, the old Julie decided to show up and run with me.

Oh no, you are going too slow, you aren’t good enough.

I knew what to do. I’d been practicing this in my training and visualization. This was an old narrative of mine, the fear of not performing as expected or anticipated. In the past, the mental aspect would affect my performance, and I didn’t know how to handle it. I’ve carried this around since high school cross country. Yet, over the years, I’ve done the work to confront this fear and manage my mind.

I was surprised it came up, but I welcomed it. It was my chance to prove to myself that I could work through this. I shook my arms down by my side and took some deep breaths.

Breathe, relax, run. Breathe, relax, run. There is nothing that’s gone wrong here.

Then, to my surprise, I heard— Julie, you are right where you need to be, you are a strong runner, and you have a strong mind. What a gentle and kind thought. My body listened, and the tension released.

What will you say to yourself when the pain comes, when you’re tired, and when your inner critic tells you to stop? Do you have a mantra to shift your mindset?

As runners, you have an incredible advantage. You’re not just training for a race but for life. Every hill you conquer, every time you show up on a day you don’t feel like it, every moment you push through when your legs scream to stop—you’re building resilience, determination, grit, and mental toughness.

And you get to practice this when you run.

When life’s challenges, academic pressures, or future goals come, you’ll be ready because you’re already practicing handling discomfort and moving forward when it gets hard. That’s the real race.

So here’s what I want to leave you with this morning. In each book is an index card. I would encourage you to write down at least one mantra that resonates with you—something you can start practicing when your inner critic wants to take over.

Remember: you get to choose which voice to listen to. Choose wisely.

You know Aunt Phoebe well if you’ve read  Staring Down a Dream . She’s back in MILES of MEANING: from Doubter to JFK 50 Mile Finisher —because here’s the thing: she never leaves.

But I’ve learned something that changed everything: I don’t have to listen to her.

Which voice will you choose today? The critic or the encourager?

My challenge to you: grab an index card and write down a mantra to use this week. If you’re feeling brave, share it in the comments. Let’s support each other with better ways to talk to ourselves. Maybe the one you share is just what someone else needs today.

Thank you for being here with me,

Julie

Leave a comment

MILES of MEANING: from Doubter to JFK 50 Mile Finisher will be in the world in five days! I can’t wait to share this book with you. Thanks to my early readers and reviewers for your generous time and thoughts. Thank you for spreading the word. It means a lot!

50 Names for 50.2 Miles

Hi Run to Write Community,

I’m excited to share another excerpt from my upcoming memoir, MILES of MEANING: from Doubter to JFK 50 Mile Finisher. The paperback book will be published on October 7, 2025, and the eBook on October 14, 2025. If you prefer the eBook over the paperback, you can pre-order now.

Thank you for your interest and for spreading the word. It means a lot to me.

Keep showing up,

Julie

Check it out

Chapter 15

50 Names for 50.2 Miles

I was grateful for my health and the opportunity to run this race. Many of my friends and family reached out to check in. I asked for their prayers, especially for my protection on the Appalachian Trail, that I would lift my feet, not fall on my face, and have fun.

For the last four years, I’ve had the opportunity to connect with many people who run and write on a platform called Substack. This was where I shared my writing and connected with other runners and writers. I wrote about my family’s cancer story and my why for running the JFK 50 Mile adventure.

I dedicated each mile to someone touched by cancer and invited my readers to share their loved ones’ names with me. I was honored when they responded, trusting me to carry their stories on the trail. I pulled out three index cards from my desk drawer and numbered them one through fifty in black ink. Beside each number, I wrote a name—Howard at mile 3, my friend Terri and her son at miles 11 and 12, and my husband Jeff at mile 50. I had 50.2 miles to cover and 50 names covering the small cards. I would bring these with me to memorize each person at each mile.

My initial idea was to wear 50 bracelets, each with a name in beads. However, that didn’t quite work out. It was too jingly, and how would I wear 50 bracelets on my wrist? So when life gives you too much jingle, you adapt! Instead, I made two necklaces, weaving all the precious names together. I would place them in my running vest. This small challenge was a beautiful reminder that adaptability is our superpower, in running and in life. I planned to use this to my advantage on race day. When challenges arose (and they would), I would stay calm, smile, and pivot.

There were countless paths to the finish line—and I was ready to embrace whichever one unfolded. I just needed to keep moving, eating, and breathing. But I wasn’t running alone. With each step, I carried the weight of fifty names close to my heart, honoring their stories, struggles, and courage. These weren’t just names on a necklace; they were reminders of why I was out there, of the lives that cancer had touched, of the love that endured. Every mile was a tribute, every breath a promise to remember. This wasn’t just my race anymore—it was theirs too.

Run. Eat. Breathe. Honor.

Monday’s beautiful faces! You all ROCK!

Join us!

You’re invited to write together! See you today at 11 am (EST).

We’ll gather in silent solidarity to work on our creative projects, starting with a writing prompt to warm up. No experience is necessary.

Be part of our creative community! Use the link below to enter our Zoom room, and feel free to invite a friend to write alongside you. Together, we’ll discover our creative voices and find the courage to put our stories on the page.

Let’s write together. Let’s grow together.

Community writing session

Move. Write. Connect. meets this Wednesday at 9:30 a.m. at Freedom of Espresso in Liverpool, NY. Click the button below to sign up and join us.

Move. Write. Connect.

Writing topic for today:

Think of a challenging goal you’re working toward or a difficult task. Write about what motivates you to keep showing up for it.