The next Book Experience begins August 18.
Registration is now open.

If willpower worked, it would have worked by now.

If you've ever wished you could stop fighting food and finally feel calm, connected, and confident around food, this experience is for you.

The truth is, your struggle with food isn't about food at all. It's about safety, connection, and your nervous system. That's exactly what this 7-week guided experience is designed to support.

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How many books have you read to try to change your relationship with food?

You’ve likely highlighted pages, nodded along with brilliant insights, and thought, “This is exactly what I need.”

But then what happens? The book goes on your shelf, and the cycle continues. It becomes 'shelf help,' rather than real help.

The problem isn’t the book. The problem is that lasting change is hard to create on your own.

I wrote The Binge Eating Breakthrough to teach you why you struggle with food and how to stop. I created this experience to give you the support and actionable guidance you need to create true and lasting change with food.

The Support You’ve Been Looking For at an Accessible Price ($49)

This book and the 7 week experience will help you see the truth about your eating struggles and will give you everything you need to become a calm, connected and confident eater.

How It Works

🗓️ When: Tuesdays, August 18th - September 29th, 2026

🕕 Time: 3pm PT / 4pm MT / 5pm CT / 6 PM ET

💻 Where: Live on Zoom (replays available)

Each week, we’ll dive into a key section of the book and turn its principles into actionable steps. Sessions are interactive, supportive, and designed to meet you where you are.

Reading is encouraged but optional. You don’t need to be caught up or prepared to benefit from each call.

Weekly Schedule:
(dates marked with * include additional Q&A for Deep Dive participants)

Week 1 (Aug 18): Foundations & A New Perspective on Binge Eating

Week 2 (Aug 25): Understanding Your Brain, Your Story and Where You Are Going

Week 3 (Sept 1): Building Connection with Your Body, Emotions & Food *

Week 4 (Sept 8): Compassion – Changing Internal Dialogue

Week 5 (Sept 15): Developing Confidence & Resilience

Week 6 (Sept 22): Navigating Food Choices & Daily Eating Practices *

Week 7 (Sept 29): Integrating & Sustaining Your Breakthrough

What You Get:

• Weekly live coaching so you can apply what you're learning instead of trying to figure it out on your own.

• Get your questions answered as they come up, so you don't stay stuck.

• Experience the power of community with people who truly understand what you’re going through.

  

Pricing:

7 Week Experience: $49

Includes 7 interactive group sessions.

Deep Dive Experience Upgrade: $198

While the 7-week experience gives you the foundation, Deep Dive takes you deeper into lasting transformation. In your private 25-minute session, we'll address your specific triggers and create a personalized roadmap for your unique challenges.

Plus, the additional Q&A sessions give you extra time during the weeks we dive deep into the nervous system, internal family systems, and navigating food choices—where the heart of the transformational work happens. Limited spots to ensure intimate, personalized support.

If you’re the type of person that likes to go all in, this option is for you!

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You might be thinking:

“It’s so hard to do it alone, but if I had the right support, maybe everything would change.”

“I’ve read so many books and nothing has helped, why would this be different?”

“I don’t consider myself a binge eater, but I know my relationship with food isn’t healthy—can this help me?”

Here’s the truth: binge eating isn’t about willpower or food. It’s about understanding your brain, your emotions, and your needs in a compassionate way. Even if you don’t binge, the power of seeing your eating behaviors in a new way changes everything.

Who This Is For

This experience is perfect for you if:

• You're tired of the restrict-binge cycle.

• You've tried both willpower and removing restriction and still feel stuck.

• You're ready for real, lasting change.

• You want a safe, supportive space to work through your challenges.

• You’re tired of trying to figure it out alone and want expert guidance.

What’s Possible For You

• Freedom from food obsession

• Confidence in social eating situations

• Peace with your body

• Energy for what truly matters

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This Isn’t Your Typical Book Club

It’s an opportunity to learn directly from the author, ask questions, receive coaching, and connect with others who understand what you’re going through.

You’ll walk away with more than insight. You’ll have practical tools, a deeper understanding of yourself, and greater confidence in how to apply what you’re learning in everyday life.

Addressing Your Concerns

I don’t have time.

Each session is just 60 minutes. And even if you miss a live session, you’ll have access to recordings to fit your schedule.

What if I feel awkward in a group setting?

There’s no pressure to share unless you’re comfortable. Many participants find transformation simply by listening and knowing they’re not alone.

What if I get behind and don’t read the book?

This is a “reading optional” experience. You don’t need to have read the book to benefit from every single call.

What if I miss some of the calls?

No problem. Every session is recorded and you’ll have access to the replays through October 31st. You can attend live, watch on your own schedule, or even join after the experience has begun and catch up with the recordings.

Take the First Step

Imagine 7 weeks from now: feeling calm, confident, and connected around food. Knowing that you’re not alone and that you have the tools to create a peaceful relationship with eating. This transformation is possible for you.

For $49, you can join The Binge Eating Breakthrough Book Experience and take the first step toward a life free from feeling out of control around food.

Ready to Begin?

Click below to secure your spot (for just $7/call!)

Sign Up Now

(Optional Deep Dive Upgrade: Add a 25-minute 1:1 coaching session and two group Q&A sessions and for $198. Spots are limited.)

Want a Sneak Peak of the Book?

Not sure if this book is for you? Listen to me read a chapter of the book and decide for yourself.

Meet Your Guide - I’m Jane Pilger

I still vividly remember my first binge – the aftermath of a care package filled with fun-sized candy bars during my first semester in college. Surrounded by empty wrappers, I felt broken and ashamed. Little did I know that this moment would kickstart a 25+ year cycle of restricting and binging.

Over the decades that followed, I tried everything:

• Multiple therapists

• Two rounds of intensive outpatient treatment

• Countless restrictive diets

I desperately attempted to change my thoughts and seek control. But something was missing. What I didn't understand then was my body, its needs, and how to cultivate trust within myself.

The real breakthrough came when I started exploring:

• The science of the brain and body

• A trauma-informed approach

• The power of self-compassion

Through this journey, I learned to create safety, trust, and connection within myself. Food no longer fills that role. It’s my passion to help others learn how to cultivate this for themselves.

With over 25 years of personal experience and hundreds of clients coached, I bring a unique blend of empathy, understanding, and practical knowledge to anyone who struggles with food.

Are you ready to transform your relationship with food and your body for good?

Sign Up Now

Frequently Asked Questions

1. I don’t binge. Will this book help me? If you struggle with food this book will help. You do not need to have personal experience with binge eating to benefit from the concepts in the book and support from each call.

2. Do you provide the book? No. You will purchase the book separately (available on Amazon.) There is also a companion workbook that you can purchase to take your work deeper.

3. What if this doesn't work and I'm disappointed again? If you're asking this question, you've likely blamed yourself for every program that didn't "work." Here's the truth: you didn't fail those programs—they failed you by not addressing the real reasons behind your eating patterns. This experience is different because there's no way to fail. Every insight, every moment of awareness, every small shift is progress. You're not trying to be perfect; you're learning to be human.

4. Do I have to share my personal experiences? No. Sharing is entirely optional. Many participants find value just by listening, learning, and reflecting on their own journey. You can attend anonymously if you prefer or simply watch the replays on your own time.

5. What's the refund policy? If you attend the first session and feel this isn’t the right fit for you, I offer a full refund as long as you notify me within 24 hours of the first session.

Any Other Questions?

If you have any additional questions, ask them in the comments, send me a DM or email me at hello@janepilger.com and I’ll get them answered!

Join now and in just a few weeks you will have new awareness and tools that you can use in every aspect of your life.

Sign Up Now

I did my first triathlon in May of 2002. A friend from high school had signed up for a class that ended with a sprint triathlon, and it sounded like fun, so I started searching online for something similar near me, back when that kind of search actually took some digging. I found a local sprint triathlon, joined a masters swim group and a running group, and signed up.

Todd wasn’t interested in triathlon back then. He was deep into kayaking and competitive paintball, which was very much his thing at the time, so I asked him to come watch. My first triathlon was a reverse sprint, a 5K run, a 12 mile bike, and a 400 yard pool swim. He brought a chair and a book and set up somewhere he could see both the run and bike course.

As I rode past him he yelled, “Your helmet is on backwards!” I stopped to turn it around, and while I was fixing it, a police officer up ahead at the intersection stood with his hand out. I figured that meant stop, so I waited. He yelled, “I’m stopping the cars, you go!” Mistakes and all, I crossed that finish line already wanting to do it again.

The next year I asked Todd if he’d come watch me race again. “No,” he said. “I went last year.” I convinced him to come anyway, and by the time I finished that race, he was standing there thinking he could do this too. We did our first race together two months later, in July of 2003. There’s a good story behind that one too, for another time.

After every race since, I’ve asked myself the same question. What else could I do? What else is possible?

Sometimes it’s a nudge to try a longer distance. Sometimes it’s a new place to race. There were things I was sure I could never do, a full Ironman, a particular hill near our house, and then one day I’d find myself standing on that start line or climbing that hill anyway. Twenty-three years later, Todd and I have raced all over the world together. He still leans toward shorter distances and off road racing, and I still prefer the long stuff with no dirt involved, and somehow that combination of doing our own thing and doing it together has worked for over two decades.

This year the nudge came from home. For the first time, Ironman brought a race to New Mexico.

Back in New Mexico

Ruidoso sits at nearly 7,000 feet in the Sierra Blanca mountains, and it’s a place I already loved before this race existed. My grandfather had a cabin there, and some of my fondest childhood memories are from the golf course with him, where he’d let me play the last thirty yards of every hole. When we heard Ironman was bringing a 70.3 there, we knew we wanted to be part of it.

I’d also been dealing with a high hamstring injury for close to a year at that point, so I genuinely didn’t know what my body would do on race day. I’d had a solid training block leading in, but altitude and injury and racing don’t always cooperate with each other. Going in, I set one intention: let the race come to me. Not chase numbers, just trust my body and respond to whatever the day handed me.

We drove down Friday morning, checked into Ironman Village, and grabbed a picnic lunch while half-listening to the athlete briefing. We drove the bike course, made a grocery run, and got caught in a downpour so heavy the parking lot turned into a small river. The flash flood warning on our phones wasn’t exaggerating. By evening it had cleared, and the rest of the weekend looked nothing like that storm: a deer in our driveway, wild horses on our running route, a pancake breakfast, dinner with friends who were racing too.

Because the race used two separate transition areas with almost no parking at the lake, we had to shuttle our bikes out the day before and decide what to leave overnight versus carry with us on race morning. We kept our bike bags with us rather than risk them getting soaked again.

Race Morning

We’d planned to wake up at 3:30 and be out the door by 4:00 to catch the shuttle to the lake. Somewhere in the night I woke up certain the alarm was about to go off, but I didn’t check the time, and fell back asleep. When I finally looked at my watch it was 4:00, the exact time we were supposed to already be leaving. We threw on our gear and made it out the door by 4:18. It felt stressful right then, but we still had plenty of time, and I’m fairly confident that’s the last time either of us forgets to set an alarm before a race.

The water was 71 degrees and clear, easy to sight in even with two full loops to swim. I started easy on purpose, knowing altitude can make it hard to catch your breath if you go out too hard. I never felt short of breath, but I felt tired early, tired enough that I just wanted to take a break. What I’ve learned after enough years in open water is that forward momentum matters more than anything else. You can slow down, you can look again on the next stroke, but if you actually stop, it takes a lot to get moving again. So I kept telling myself to be like Dory, just keep swimming, and toward the end of the first lap I started to smell skunk, which sounds strange, but it’s become my personal sign that a race is going to go well.

By the second lap, I was swimming past the slower swimmers who’d started behind me, and it was surprising to see how many people were struggling out there. We heard later that nearly 80 athletes had to be pulled from the water, likely a combination of altitude and nerves. I came out in 33 minutes feeling like I’d had a solid swim, not a great one, but solid given the conditions.

I peeled off my wetsuit soon after climbing out of the lake, then ran up the hill and a flight of stairs into the transition area. That’s where I stuffed the wetsuit into my bag and sat down to put on my socks and shoes, since my hamstring had opinions about standing on one leg. From there it was a steep, tricky descent down to the mount line, extra challenging in bike shoes, so I took my time and got on the bike in one piece.

Let the Race Come to Me

The ride opened with a steep, technical drop from the lake to the main road, still covered in loose dirt from the storm. I settled into the plan, let the race come to me, and watched Todd and my friend Liz pull ahead early. Around mile 25 the fatigue settled in more than I expected. I’d nailed my nutrition, but looking back, I hadn’t had nearly enough water. By the final climb up Gavilan Canyon Road into transition, I was ready to be done. Not a great ride, not a bad one either, just one of those days where you can’t fully explain why it wasn’t there.

I’d needed to pee for the last ten miles of the bike, so I stopped at a porta potty on the way to my rack, wondering the whole time how I could make it faster. The only thing I came up with was unbuckling my helmet early.

Turns out that’s against the rules. An official flagged me down at my bike. “Number 110, you got a yellow card.” Twenty-five years of racing and I had somehow never learned you’re not supposed to unclip your helmet before it’s racked. I served my thirty seconds, laughed about it, and headed out onto the run course, encouraged by all the familiar faces I saw right away.

What I Could Do

I’d been dealing with that hamstring injury since last August, first on one side after Boise 70.3, then the other side after Boston, likely from compensating. It had been healing, slowly, and a few recent runs had given me hope. The course was three loops with rolling hills, uphill for the first mile, and I made it maybe a hundred yards before my body told me to walk.

Before every race I collect prayer requests from people, something I’ve done for years, and working through that list when things get hard pulls my attention off my own discomfort and onto something bigger than the next aid station.

The first loop was rough. I tried every trick I know, reminding myself that any running would be faster than walking, telling myself walking felt worse even though I genuinely couldn’t decide if that was true, repeating my go-to mantra, no regrets, and thinking, honestly, that I was probably going to have some anyway. I saw the top three women run by behind their lead bikes and cheered for the one I knew, and I found Todd on an out and back stretch where he yelled, “I love you, baby!” and I yelled it back, and a stranger behind me yelled, “I love you guys!” so I yelled back, “I love you, man!” It was silly and it helped more than it should have. So did seeing so many familiar faces out there, other athletes I knew on the course and friends who’d come out to watch. It changed how the whole day felt.

Somewhere on the second loop, things started to change. I stopped paying attention to the numbers, and even to how I felt, and started paying attention to what I could do instead. I leaned harder into praying through my list, and I started noticing anything that felt like improvement over the first loop, even small things. I kept reminding myself that anything was possible, and I thought about something my coach had told me before the race, that this was going to be a race of attrition and I probably wasn’t the only one out there struggling. That’s what kept me moving when the hard parts hit. By the third loop I finally felt like I had it in me to run the whole thing, hills and aid stations included, and I finished it feeling closer to how I’d hoped to feel from the start.

I came through the crowd, put my sunglasses on the back of my head for the finish photo, and ran down the chute with my arms in the air. Todd had already finished and was waiting for me. I cried, the way I always do when there’s nothing left in the tank, and we hugged it out.

The Story That Actually Happened

Total time just under six hours, third in my age group, and one of the last few slots to next year’s 70.3 World Championship in Chattanooga. Less than five minutes separated me from fourth place. If I’d let that first loop be the whole story, none of that happens.

Todd also beat me at this distance for the first time in years, after being sick the weeks leading in, and I don’t think I’ve ever been happier to lose to him. We did a little Instagram interview with a local announcer after the race if you want to check it out here.

There were plenty of stretches on that first loop when it would have been easy to decide the day wasn’t going to go the way I’d hoped, and the story I was telling myself out there wasn’t close to the story that actually happened. That’s true more often than I’d like to admit, and it’s the thing I keep having to relearn, race after race.

We’re already hoping this race comes back next year, and if it does, we’ll be there, because I know there’s more in me than I showed on this course. For now, I’m turning my attention to getting this hamstring fully healed and getting ready for the Athens Marathon in November.

Twenty-three years ago, one small decision led me to start asking what else was possible. I’m still asking it, and these days I’m asking something else too, right in the middle of the hard part, when I’m most sure I already know how the story ends. What else could actually be true?

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We’ve been racing Deuces Wild off and on for over 20 years. It’s one of those events that keeps drawing us back because of the location, the people, and the overall vibe. Nestled in the mountains of Arizona, it’s a welcome break from the heat and a chance to spend a weekend doing something we love with people we enjoy spending time with.

We hadn’t raced there in several years and were excited to return.

This year looked a little different for both of us.

Todd raced the Olympic distance triathlon. In years past, he had always done the Xterra off-road race that took place on Sunday. That race is no longer part of the festival, so this was his first time racing the road course.

I had originally signed up for the long course triathlon, which includes a 1.2-mile swim, 41-mile bike, and 13.3-mile run. But after dealing with a hamstring injury for the better part of a year, I decided to switch to the aquabike event and skip the run. My body simply wasn’t ready to run that many miles.

When we arrived Friday afternoon and drove out to the lake, we were shocked by how much it had changed. The water level was incredibly low. There was a dust bowl where there is typically water. I’ve raced here through drought years before, but I had never seen anything like it.

The boat ramps were closed because the water didn’t even reach them. At the time, I thought the low water levels would simply be an interesting detail about the weekend.

I had no idea how much they would impact the race itself.

Passing It On

One of my favorite parts of endurance sports is helping people who are newer to the journey.

Friday night, we met our friend Alicia and her family for dinner. We met Alicia at the gym, often arriving at the same time and standing outside waiting for the doors to open at 5am so we could swim. Early last year, she started asking me questions about open water swimming and triathlon, which eventually led to me giving her my old wetsuit. This weekend, she would be wearing that wetsuit for her first open water swim and the longest triathlon she had ever attempted, which made the whole experience feel a little extra special.

One of my favorite things about endurance sports is helping people discover they can do things they never thought they could do.

As we talked over dinner, I found myself sharing many of the lessons I’ve learned over the years.

I told her that sometimes people feel short of breath at the beginning of an open water swim and that it can be incredibly alarming if you’ve never experienced it before. I’ve seen athletes end their race before it really begins because they assume something is wrong.

Usually, nothing is wrong. They’re simply having a normal physiological response to being in cold open water. Add in the fact that Show Low sits at about 6,500 feet above sea level, and it's not unusual for athletes to feel a little more breathless than they might elsewhere.

My advice was simple. Slow down. Breathe often. Reassure yourself that you’ll settle in. And most importantly, just keep swimming.

I also told her that if she tried to sight and couldn’t see anything, not to panic. Just keep swimming and look again in a few strokes.

Be Dory from Finding Nemo. Just keep swimming.

At the time, I thought I was giving advice to Alicia. It turns out I was giving it to myself.

The Swim

Race morning was chilly, with temperatures in the low 40s when we arrived at the lake.

Because of the low water levels, the race organizers had created a long carpeted path down to the water. The carpet was secured with rocks and laid over dirt and uneven terrain. Walking down to the start, I could feel the rocks underneath my feet through my cheap disposable flip-flops and wondered how difficult it would be to run back up after the swim.

Little did I realize that would be the least of my worries.

When we made our way into the water to start the race, we discovered that the lake bottom was incredibly slick. Imagine trying to walk on wet clay.

As I navigated toward the starting line, trying to move forward but slipping with each step, I immediately felt uneasy. I usually feel confident and assertive in open water, but something about the entrance shifted my energy more than I realized at the time. I started to wonder what I was doing there and remember thinking, I have regrets!

Then the race started, and there was no turning back.

Almost immediately, I found myself swimming directly into the rising sun. I couldn’t see the first turn buoy and had no idea where I was supposed to be going. At the same time, I felt the familiar shortness of breath I had described to Alicia the night before.

Suddenly, I wasn’t the experienced athlete giving advice over dinner. I was the athlete who needed the reminder to slow down, breathe, and trust that I would settle in.

It took a while for my body and brain to calm down, to catch my breath, be able to see, and truly settle in, but it did happen eventually. I was able to reassure myself in the moment that it wouldn’t last forever and to take things one breath and one stroke at a time.

The same advice I had given Alicia the night before turned out to be exactly what I needed.

Just keep swimming.

I didn’t feel amazing in the water, but the further I swam, the better I felt. I could sense my confidence returning as the last few buoys came into view.

As I made my way back toward shore, I decided to swim as far as possible before attempting to stand up on the slick lake bottom. I knew getting out of the water was going to be an adventure, so I wanted to stay horizontal as long as I could.

When I finally stood up, I couldn’t move forward. My feet kept slipping underneath me. I tried again, but I was making zero forward progress.

I got back down into the water and started using my hands to pull myself forward.

A volunteer stepped into the water and offered me his hand. I grabbed it, made my way onto solid ground, and thanked him repeatedly as I stumbled toward the timing mat.

It wasn’t graceful, but it worked. I was so happy to be on dry ground, even if my feet were numb from the cold water.

The Bike

The bike course consisted of two loops of rolling terrain and I went into it with a specific goal.

I wanted to see what was possible. I wanted to see just how hard I could push myself, even if that meant hitting a limit.

Over the years, my coach has pointed out that I tend to back off before I actually need to. Long before I reach my true limits, there is a voice that encourages me to be careful, to not go too hard, and to keep something in reserve. She often refers to this as my internal governor.

Without a run afterwards, this felt like the perfect opportunity to see what would happen if I challenged that voice.

I felt strong throughout the ride. I repeated my mantras over and over.

Fierce, Free and Fun.

Strong, Steady, Brave, Confident.

I worked harder on the second lap than the first and my highest power numbers came in the final thirty minutes of the ride.

By most measures, I accomplished exactly what I set out to do. I pushed hard, worked harder on the second lap than the first, and finished the ride feeling strong.

The surprising part came later as I reflected on the race and noticed how my body felt in the days following.

During the ride, I genuinely felt like I was pushing hard, and I was. But when I looked back on the effort, I realized there was still quite a bit left in the tank. There was more available than I had accessed that day.

Capacity

One of the things I talk about with my clients a lot is capacity. The capacity to stay with an uncomfortable feeling. The capacity to experience the desire to eat without immediately acting on it. The capacity to have a difficult conversation. The capacity to tolerate uncertainty. The capacity to do things that once felt impossible.

Capacity isn’t fixed. It expands over time.

As humans, we’re all on a journey of growth. We learn to do things we couldn’t do before, whether that’s in sport, relationships, business, parenting, or our relationship with food. What once felt overwhelming becomes manageable. What once felt impossible becomes familiar.

As I look back on this race, I can see that theme woven throughout the entire weekend.

I saw it in Alicia preparing for her first open water swim and overcoming a significant injury to get to the starting line.

I saw it in myself when I needed to follow my own advice and just keep swimming.

I saw it when I accepted help from a volunteer instead of continuing to fight the lake on my own.

And I saw it on the bike when I realized that what felt like my limit wasn’t actually my limit.

I think many of us assume that possibility comes first. But in my experience, the ability to hold discomfort, uncertainty, vulnerability, and challenge is what allows possibility to emerge in the first place.

As our capacity expands, so does what becomes possible.

In a few weeks, I’ll have another opportunity to explore that idea. Ironman 70.3 Ruidoso will be the first Ironman race ever held in New Mexico. Assuming my hamstring continues to cooperate, I’ll be standing on another starting line with plenty of uncertainty and plenty of questions.

What is possible? What can I handle? What am I capable of?

The good news is that I don’t need all of the answers right now.

I just need the willingness to keep showing up, stay curious, and see what unfolds. In fact, as I finish writing this, I’m heading out for a training ride to see what’s available to me today.

What about you? Where in your life are you expanding your capacity and discovering what you’re capable of?

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I believe we each carry longings for a reason. Often, they point us toward growth long before we feel ready for it. We don’t discover what we’re capable of by thinking about it. We discover it by showing up, taking the next step, learning, adjusting, and continuing forward. One breath, one stroke, one conversation, one challenge at a time.

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After 7+ years of waiting for this moment, Marathon Monday was finally here. I wrote about the journey to qualifying here and the days leading up to the race here.

It was the 130th running of the Boston Marathon in the same year as the 250th anniversary of American Independence. Marathon Monday takes place on Patriots Day each year. Massachusetts and Maine are the only two states in the US that observe Patriots Day as a National Holiday, so banks and schools are closed and the entire region around the race comes together to rally around the race and the 32,000+ participants.

Nearly 10,000 volunteers help to make this day happen and over 500,000 spectators come to watch the event. The throngs of spectators truly make this race one of a kind. I’ve spoken to some friends who either grew up or worked in the area and each has stories of being off school or work and where they would go to spectate the marathon.

It truly feels like the entire city rallies behind the race and the participants. The energy was palpable all weekend leading up to race day, but it would be next level as the hours and race would unfold.

Before the Race Started

My race started at 11am, so there was no need for an early alarm like many other races. I woke up around 6:15am before my alarm went off and got ready.

One of the biggest unknowns for this race is the weather. April in Boston can bring anything - rain, wind, cold, hot, and any combination. The weather conditions are ever-changing, so it’s not uncommon for athletes to be looking at the hourly forecast many times a day to see how things might develop during the race.

This year we got really lucky. Sunday had been cold, wet and rainy most of the day. Monday was cold to start, but it was sunny. Some clouds would develop, and there were a few spits of rain, but overall the weather was ideal. To top it all off, there was actually a tailwind this year. With a point to point race (from Hopkinton to Boston), whatever wind you have will usually be the same for the entire race. Many years that ends up being a headwind, but this year would be ideal running weather - mid 40s and a mild tailwind.

This would be great for running, but quite chilly standing around waiting for the race to start. When I left the hotel room it was 38 degrees. You can wear extra clothing over your race outfit, but anything you take to the start line isn’t coming back with you unless you are wearing it, so that means that you will be throwing away your extra layers. I went to Goodwill the week before the race and found some super cozy items - flannel PJ bottoms, a big puffy coat, a pair of earmuffs and some lined mittens. At the time I bought them I thought it would be overkill, but figured I would rather be too warm than too cold, and as I was putting my clothes on in the hotel room knowing what the weather was going to be, I was so glad to have all the layers.

I dropped off my gear bag near the finishers area (my warm, dry post-race clothes and phone would sit in a bus until I returned for the bag later that afternoon) and connected with Charrissa. I left the hotel at 7:30, and was at the corner of Arlington and Boylston at 7:45. We walked across the park to the bus loading area and got there right at 8 when they let our group through.

Because there are so many racers, they organize them by qualifying time, so the faster racers go first and the slower runners start later. There were 6 different waves and within each wave there were 8 corrals. I was in wave 5 (green bib), corral 5. Overall the system works pretty well to transport so many runners from Boston Common out to the start area in Hopkinton.

Where Things Got Sticky

We got through the security checkpoint quickly and then went behind the porta potties to avoid those lines to head towards bus loading. And then we were stopped. We stood there for over an hour at a standstill, not knowing what was going on. Apparently they had changed their bus loading process and it was not a good change. There was some confusion and frustration, but overall I would say people were still in pretty good spirits. We finally got onto a bus over an hour later and our bus rolled away from Boston Common at 9:16.

We arrived at Hopkinton at 10:06 and had just a few minutes to spare until our wave would be called to walk down towards the starting corrals. There were many people sitting around and waiting, and we wondered how they got there with enough time to sit and wait, since our situation was so different. They called our waves down to the start area and we walked the .7 mile down the road to the corrals. Fortunately I knew there was a large bank of porta potties near the start by the CVS so I waited to use those. They were empty, so I went right in, and was able to grab some Vaseline from a “help yourself” table to prevent any chafing. I got to my start corral around 10:45, with 15 minutes to spare before the race began.

One thing that I was very grateful that Charrissa told me was that I could hold onto my throwaway clothing up to the very last minute before the start of the race. From the time we entered the long walk down to the start there were signs and volunteers asking for discarded throwaways (to be given to charity). If I didn’t know better I would have thought I needed to get rid of it and would have been very cold by the time the race actually started. I saw two girls do exactly this. They had given away their extra layers and they were freezing. I actually watched them stop at a pile of clothes and pull out two sweatshirts to put back on to keep warm!

About 10 minutes before we started I took a salt pill and a gel, and a few minutes later I removed my fuzzy pants. As we walked toward the start I discarded my earmuffs and literally 10 yards before the start line I tossed my coat to a volunteer. There was plenty of room in the corral and I didn’t feel tight or squeezed like I have in other larger races.

As we walked toward the starting line, I was filled with excitement, anticipation, and a bit of uncertainty. The moment I had been imagining for years was finally here, and it was time to begin.

The Course

The 26.2 Boston Marathon course is a point-to-point race from Hopkinton to Boston that covers 8 cities and towns. You start in Hopkinton and run downhill to Ashland, Then you hit Framingham and the historic train station. Natick is around mile 10 and then comes the town of Wellesley around mile 11. The students at Wellesley College are known for their loud screams just before the 1/2 way point of the marathon. Newton is the next town and where the hills begin, ending with iconic Heartbreak Hill. After you crest that final hill you run down into Brookline and then you enter Boston and the last mile from the Citgo sign near Fenway Park into Boston where you take a right on Hereford, Left on Boylston and towards the finish line with crowds 3-5 people deep lining both sides of the road.

It’s a net downhill course, which you might think would make it fast, but the tricky part about it is that it starts downhill which can be tough on the quads, and then the hills come late into the race (miles 17-21) so if you went too fast or too hard early, you’ll pay for it on the hills.

The overall consensus is to start out conservatively so you can save your energy for the back half of the race. If you can get through the hills, you can pick it up in the last few miles which are flat to downhill.

I started out with some pace and power goals, but quickly decided that I just wanted to go by feel. Overall the goal was to fully enjoy the experience and I knew that if I went out too hard or blew up later it would be really hard to be in the moment, so I decided to aim for steady and consistent, and possibly be able to pick it up at the end.

Overall I felt great. The first 4-5 miles were about where I thought they would be pace-wise simply focusing on feel and I did my best to soak it all in. I was filled with awe, gratitude, appreciation and joy.

Derek and Charrissa got us name bibs, so I had my name in big letters above my race number. This was one of the best things about the day - hearing people yell out my name all day long as I ran. I felt like they were out there for me, along with everyone else.

I have a tradition of praying while I run. I ask for prayer requests and write them down in a note and review them before the race. It’s a way for me to focus on something other than my own pain or discomfort and to take strength from others. I had a big list for this race and was able to pray for everyone on it and have moments of extended prayer, but it was very different than my usual experience because when people would call out my name it would remind me to be in the moment. To acknowledge them, to check in with how I was feeling and what I was doing. It was more of a back and forth between prayer and being in the moment. In the stretches where there were large crowds I would be fully there, and the moments that were quieter or fewer crowds were times for prayer.

Overall the race went by very quickly. Between looking for the next town, the next mile marker, or the next monument or key item, there was always something right around the corner.

There were crowds almost everywhere along the course. In some places they were a bit sparse, but overall I have never seen so many people along a race course. Framingham and Natick had really good crowds, but Wellesley was something else! As you approach Wellesley College you can hear the screams down the road. There are barricades along the road and women everywhere, leaning over the barricades, shouting names to anyone who had their name on their front, and putting their hands out for high 5s. Apparently there is a tradition where you can get a kiss from a Wellesley girl (I saw several signs) but I didn’t witness any kissing.

As part of my “enjoy every moment” experience I gave a lot of high 5s. So many of the spectators standing along the side of the road were holding their hands out to give you encouragement. I didn’t count but I bet I slapped hundreds of hands! From little kids, to many college students, to older adults. If hands were out I slapped them. I even have a bruise on the inside of my hand - presumably a high 5 injury! (It doesn’t hurt but it does look quite funny).

I knew I would see Todd around mile 17, shortly after the start of the Newton hills. I really wanted to be feeling good when I saw him and I was! I was in good spirits and was happy to spot him among the hundreds of people along that stretch.

I was able to take the hills at a very steady effort. I slowed a bit in pace, but not much and very much in line with the hills themselves. There were so many people along Heartbreak Hill, with music playing and a big banner at the top announcing your arrival. At that point I knew I was going to make it to the finish line without walking. This had been one of my quiet goals going into the race, but with the injury and uncertainty leading into the weekend, I truly didn’t know if it would be possible. Even if I needed to slow down, I knew at that point that I was going to run all the way to Boylston Street.

Next came Boston College and those students were even rowdier than Wellesley! I don’t know if it was numbers, or maybe they had been drinking for an hour longer, but the crowds were simply insane. So many people cheering my name, yelling, thrilled for high 5s and just a next-level energy. It was truly incredible.

Shortly after this I realized that I was getting tired and noticed a few times of shuffling my feet or almost tripping when the road surface changed. I decided to play it safe by not running too much to the right, where it’s easy to high 5 people, but also more likely to have rough or inconsistent road surfaces.

As I passed through Brookline I got a glimpse of the Citgo sign up ahead. This is a huge neon billboard that is near Fenway Park and is 1 mile from the finish line. I remember seeing the sign and thinking it was still pretty far away, and then seeing another sign that said 1.68 miles to the finish. It felt far away but doable at the same time.

I know my pace slowed a bit at that point but I really wasn’t thinking about my time. I was thinking that this was it, I was doing this, I was going to finish with a smile on my face and that I was enjoying every moment. I passed the Citgo sign, went down and up the overpass and then came the iconic right on Hereford and left on Boylston to the finish. As I turned onto Boylston I was able to spot Todd in the crowd and wave to him. I kept hearing my name and taking it all in.

After all the years of trying to qualify, all the uncertainty leading into the race, all the imagining what this moment would feel like, I was running down Boylston Street toward the finish line of the Boston Marathon. I raised my hands up in the air in appreciation and celebration for the accomplishment. I cried a little bit but we had to keep moving to get our medal, mylar blanket and food and water.

From there I picked up my gear bag at the bus and went to meet Todd at the family meeting area. As soon as I saw him we embraced and the tears came. The fatigue, the pride, the appreciation, the relief and the pain. All of it was there. We both embraced and cried and then I got to hug Derek and Charrissa and find out that they both had PRs (personal records) for the Boston course.

I hobbled my way back to the hotel, took a hot shower and a short nap and it was already time for dinner (time flies when your race starts at 11am!). We went to the Chart House for a celebratory meal and had one more drink at the hotel bar before going to bed.

I was overwhelmed with all of the love and support I got from near and far. Family, friends and clients were sending messages and congratulations. I was so grateful but didn’t want to get out of my “be in the moment” experience. So I replied to my family so they would know I was okay and saved everything else until I arrived at the airport ready to go home.

What Comes Next

On Tuesday we went to Tracksmith and got a poster with our race time stamped on it, got our medals engraved, and got a free finishers portrait from Marathon Sports. We also got a free cookie from Levain and free scoop of ice cream from Van Leeuwen. More examples of how the city welcomes and supports runners from all over the world.

As I was getting my portrait the next morning the photographer asked me if I was going to do this race again. The answer is I’m not sure. We had literally perfect running weather, so it’s hard to imagine topping this experience. And at the same time, it was so incredible of course there is a pull to return. So the answer is not next year, but I wouldn’t be surprised if I did return sometime in the future. It’s an experience I won’t ever forget and if it’s the only one I get there, I am completely satisfied. If it’s not, I will relish any opportunity to return.

I am, however, inspired to start pursuing running more of the Major Marathons. There are six total: Boston, Chicago, New York, London, Tokyo, and Berlin.

After all, this entire experience began with a possibility that once felt out of reach, so it’s fun to think about what possibilities might still be in my future.

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I wrote about the road to qualifying for Boston here, which spanned 7+ years and 4 attempts.

In the months leading up to the race, I had been dealing with high hamstring tendinopathy that limited my ability to train the way I would have wanted. My mileage was relatively low, and I wasn’t able to do much speedwork without aggravating the injury. A couple of weekends before the race, I had a flare-up that left me cutting a workout short and walking home in pain, wondering if I might need to walk parts of the race itself.

So the goal shifted: get to the start line as healthy as possible and trust the work I had done.

And then, just before we left, Todd got sick. By the time we were at the airport, he was wearing a mask, doing everything he could to keep it from spreading. We had spent the two nights before the trip sleeping in separate rooms. No hugging, no kissing, no holding hands.

Now there was something new to manage. Not just my body, but the environment around me. Stay healthy. Protect the opportunity.

Arriving in Boston

We flew to Boston on Thursday and arrived that evening. We had dinner at Bar 10 in the Westin Copley, where our friends were staying, before heading to our hotel at the Revere Hotel Boston Common.

It was at the Westin that I first started to feel the weight of it all.

There were athletes everywhere—many wearing Boston Marathon jackets from previous years, each one representing a story, a moment, a year. Inside the elevators, there were historical facts about the city woven into the experience. It was a subtle but constant reminder of where we were and what this race represents.

As we moved through the city that evening, I noticed the buildings—the brownstones, the character, the way everything felt both historic and alive. The magnolia trees were in full bloom, adding these unexpected bursts of color that made it all feel even more vibrant.

And then, when we checked into our hotel, there was a moment that stopped me.

In the lobby, there was a statue of Paul Revere. The statue was dark and bronze, but what stood out was the bright color of his attire as he wore the Boston Marathon jacket.

It caught me off guard in the best way. A city so deeply rooted in history, fully embracing this race and the people who come to run it.

This year marks the 250th anniversary of American Independence, and Boston holds a central place in that story. The more I looked around, the more it became clear that the marathon isn’t just an event that takes place here. It feels like it belongs here.

Friday Morning

We spent Friday morning walking around the city, taking it all in.

During marathon weekend, many running brands set up pop-up shops along Boylston and Newbury Streets, right in the heart of where all of the marathon activity takes place. They rent out vacant commercial spaces just for the weekend and fill them with their usual gear along with special commemorative items created specifically for the race.

We made our way in and out of most of them, browsing, playing some of the games, and taking advantage of a few of the free giveaways along the way. It was fun, but more than anything, it added to the feeling that the entire city had shifted to make space for this event.

Packet Pick Up

We picked up our packets at the race expo inside the convention center.

This was my first real sense of just how big this race is, and how well organized it is. The process was smooth and efficient, and arriving early Friday afternoon meant we avoided the long lines that others had experienced earlier in the day.

And then there was the moment of getting my bib. Holding it in my hands, everything seemed to settle in. After all the years and all the attempts, this was no longer an idea or a goal. This was happening.

After packet pickup, we walked through the expo where the sponsors had booths set up with gear, displays, and photo opportunities. Adidas, the primary sponsor, had a large presence with clothing and shoe options. I did end up buying a pair of shoes that I would race in, technically breaking the “nothing new on race day” rule, though I had worn a previous version of them before.

Each year, the Boston Marathon releases a commemorative jacket, specific to that race. It’s always a different color, and many runners wear theirs from previous years throughout the weekend.

The tradition appears to go back decades, with Nike jackets documented in the mid-1980s and Adidas taking over as the official sponsor in 1989. At the expo, there was a large photo display of all of the jackets from at least the past 15 years.

It was fun to look at them and quietly wonder about the stories behind each one—how many times someone had run, what year they qualified, what that race meant to them.

This year, for the 130th running of the race, they went with the traditional Boston colors: blue and yellow. These aren’t typically my colors, but I loved what they represented.

I ended up purchasing a race jacket, along with a few other blue and yellow items, something for just about every kind of weather. A way to take a piece of the weekend home with me.

Why the Unicorn?

I also purchased a Spike plushy, the Boston Marathon unicorn mascot.

At first, it felt a little unexpected. A unicorn for a race like this didn’t quite match what I had imagined. Of course, I was curious, so I looked into it.

It turns out the unicorn has been the symbol of the Boston Athletic Association since the late 1800s, long before the marathon even began. In heraldry, the unicorn represents strength, courage, and a kind of rare, almost mythical excellence. The more I read, the more it made sense.

A unicorn is something people don’t always believe is real until they see it. For a long time, the Boston Marathon felt like that to me. Something I admired from a distance, something other people did, something that didn’t quite feel possible.

And now I was here, walking through the expo, holding my bib, preparing to run it myself. The weekend I had been dreaming about was finally here.

We walked over to the finish line, and it felt bigger than I had imagined.

With the public library and the cathedral in the background, it became clear just how much this race is part of the city itself. It doesn’t feel separate from Boston. It feels like it belongs here. Everything I had been feeling since we arrived was right there in front of me.

Friday evening we attended a panel hosted by the RUNHER Magazine (highly recommend for any female runners out thee!). The editor of the magazine interviewed the Brooks athletes who would be competing in the very competitive women’s field. It was amazing to hear Jess Maclain (who would end up being the top American female finisher), Susanna Sullivan and Amanda Vestri share about their thoughts and preparation for the race.

We had dinner at Atlantic Fish Company, an incredible local establishment with quality seafood.

Saturday Morning Sights

On Saturday morning, we went for a shakeout run along the Esplanade that parallels the Charles River. It was beautiful. The trees were starting to show their spring blooms, with pops of color lining the path, and there was a quiet energy in the air with so many runners out doing the same thing.

As we walked through Boston Public Garden, we came across the “Make Way for Ducklings” statues, dressed up for the marathon and the 250th anniversary celebration.

I had heard about the statues and seen photos, but seeing them in person, dressed specifically for this year’s race, made it even more clear how the city embraces and welcomes this event and everyone who comes to be part of it.

Touring the Marathon Course

We had lunch at Legal Sea Foods and then headed to the bus tour of the course, something I had been looking forward to as a way to really understand what race day would feel like.

The Boston Marathon course starts in Hopkinton and winds its way through eight cities and towns before finishing in Boston. The only way to really see it ahead of time is to take a tour like this. You drive out to the start, then follow the course back into the city.

One of the most powerful things about the tour was my seat on the bus. We were fortunate to get the seats immediately behind the driver, allowing us to see everything in front of us, with as much clarity as the bus driver himself.

We got off the bus in Hopkinton and stood near the start line, taking in the “It all starts here” sign. After so many years of thinking about this race, it was strange to be standing in the exact place where it would begin.

As we drove the course, everything I had read and heard started to come into focus. The roads, the turns, the towns, the rhythm of the course itself. And the hills.

I had heard about them for years, but seeing them in person was different. The early downhill, the way the course rolls, and then the stretch through Newton where the hills begin to build, leading up to Heartbreak Hill.

It wasn’t intimidating as much as it was clarifying. This race was going to require patience, awareness, and a willingness to stay present all the way through.

I often like to break a course into smaller sections, and this one naturally lends itself to that. Each town, each segment, each shift in terrain gives you something to focus on. Something to move toward.

We also clarified where Todd would be standing on race day, so I could know where to look for him along the way.

By the time the tour ended, I wasn’t just imagining the race anymore. I could see it.

Meanwhile, Todd had his own unofficial tour going, sampling clam chowder and Boston Cream Pie wherever he could find them.

Saturday Night

After the course tour, we made our way back into the city, had dinner at Tatte, and then attended a live taping of the Nobody Asked Us podcast with Kara Goucher and Des Linden.

It was fun to be there in person and hear their perspectives on the course and their predictions for the elite field. After spending the afternoon seeing the course for ourselves, it added another layer to the experience to hear it talked about by athletes who know it so well.

Later that evening, the city continued to come alive in its own way with a special light display on the Fairmont Copley Hotel right near the finish line.

Walking through Boston at night, it was hard to miss how much the marathon had become part of everything.

Rainy Sunday

Sunday ended up being a cold, wet, and rainy day.

I got out for a short run through Boston Common with hundreds of other runners. Even with the rain looming, there was a quiet sense of connection, everyone doing their own version of the same thing, getting ready for the next day.

Earlier in the weekend, while walking along Newbury Street, I had stopped in front of a store window that read, “Keep Chasing Possibility.” It felt like the message was meant for me, and in a way, for everyone there. The runners, the spectators, and even those who might one day find themselves on that starting line.

I knew I wanted a photo.

By Sunday, that message had settled in a different way. What once felt like something I was chasing had become something I was living. I wasn’t looking ahead to some future version of this experience anymore. I was in it.

We had planned to go to a Red Sox game that afternoon, but it was postponed due to the weather. At first, I was disappointed. It felt like one of the experiences I had been looking forward to as part of the weekend.

But in the end, it gave us something we needed more. Time to rest.

Todd was still working through being sick, and I was focused on conserving energy and taking care of my body. I picked up a few final things for race day, had a pancake breakfast at the hotel, and spent the afternoon getting everything ready.

There was something grounding about that entire day. Laying everything out. Going through the routine. Letting the noise of the weekend settle. Enjoying two naps over the course of the day.

We had dinner at Eataly with our friends, and before we knew it, race day was almost here.

Before bed, I sprayed my feet with New Skin, reviewed my list of prayer requests, and turned on a guided meditation for confidence, strength, and courage.

Everything had led to this. All that was left to do was sleep, wake up, and see how the day I had been dreaming about for years would unfold.

In my next post, I’ll share how race day unfolded. (I’ve linked it below.)

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And yet, here I am—on my way to Boston to run in a race that used to feel so far out of reach.

This morning, our local paper featured a story on the Boston Marathon and included a bit about my journey, which feels pretty surreal. You can read it here.

What is so special about the Boston Marathon?

It’s historic. The Boston Marathon is the oldest longest running marathon in the world. It has been running continuously since 1897. It began one year after the first marathon at the Olympic Games in 1896 that ran from Marathon to Athens, Greece. This year marks the 130th running of the race, which takes place each year on Patriot’s Day.

It’s exclusive. Not everyone can get in to the Boston Marathon. In fact, most people can’t. There are three ways to get into the race: 1. run a qualifying time (more on this to come), 2. raise significant money for charity, 3. get a sponsored spot (a handful are given to VIPs, celebrities and influencers).

How does qualifying for the Boston Marathon work?

Each year the Boston Athletic Association (BAA) announces the qualifying standards for the race. This is a publicized set of times, by gender and age group that establishes the qualifying standard for the year. A participant must run faster than that time at a qualifying race during the year leading up to the registration window. (Click here to see the qualifying standards and read more about the process.)

What’s tricky is that simply running a qualifying time doesn’t guarantee you entry into the race. Most years there are more people that run a qualifying time than there are available spots (approximately 30,000). Everyone who raced a qualifying time is able to register for the race during a 2 week window in September and then the BAA evaluates the number of applicants and determines what the cutoff time will be. This can be anywhere from 2-7 minutes faster than the actual qualifying time.

The cutoff for 2026 was 4:34. Here’s how this plays out. My qualifying standard (based upon my age at this year’s race: 50) is 3:50:00. With the 4:34 buffer, this means that I would have to complete a marathon during the qualifying window in 3:45:26 or faster in order to actually be able to run in this year’s Boston Marathon.

My journey to qualifying for the Boston Marathon

I’m not sure exactly when I started dreaming about running Boston. It’s been something that I’ve wanted to do since I did my first marathon in 2010 in Big Sur, California, but I never thought it would be possible for me as my times were nowhere near fast enough to reach the qualifying standard.

Around 2017 I started to build more confidence in my athletic abilities and began to open up to the possibility that I just might be able to qualify for Boston, though it still seemed so far out of reach.

Attempt #1: Eugene Marathon 2018 - 3:44:51

Over the years the qualifying standards have gotten faster as more people than ever are able to run at these paces, with increasing skill and technology like super shoes. In 2018 I was in the 40-45 age group, but my qualifying standard was 3:45 (it’s currently 3:35 for that AG, 10 minutes faster!)

On my first attempt I did run a Boston qualifying time, but since it was only by 9 seconds, I knew it wouldn’t be enough to be able to actually go to Boston the following year (the cutoff ended up being 3:23).

The Long Pause Between Attempts

The following year I had my bike accident where I fractured my pelvis. (You can read about that here.) It was a long road to recovery and I wouldn’t be ready to run a marathon for a couple of years.

After that recovery my focus became qualifying for the Ironman World Championships in Kona. I was running marathons during the Ironman events, but I put the Boston Marathon goal on the shelf for a bit.

In 2023, having dinner on the lanai in Kona with our friends Derek and Charrissa, two nights before the Ironman World Championships, we all started talking about what we would be doing next.

Derek shared that he was interested in pacing people who were chasing after a goal time for a half or full marathon race. (He is a very speedy runner.) Charrissa shared about her goal to continue to qualify for the Boston Marathon for at least 10 consecutive years in a row.

The goal was reignited during this dinner. I lit up at the possibility of having Derek pace me to a Boston qualifying race and being able to go to the event with them both while Charrissa was also living out her dream.

Attempt #2: Eugene Marathon 2024 - 4:06:02

We returned to Eugene as it takes place at a great time of year, is a relatively flat course, and is close to family and friends. I didn’t have a great training build up to this race, but I was ready to show up and give it everything I had to try to get that BQ.

Derek paced me, and through no fault of his, I was unable to hit the time. We did pretty well through the first half and I just couldn’t maintain the pace. The blessing in this race was that I slowed down enough at the end that Todd caught us from behind and we were able to cross the finish line together hand in hand which was pretty incredible. (I recorded a podcast about that here.)

Attempt #3: Santa Rosa Marathon 2024 - 3:53:06

We traveled to Santa Rosa, California that August for another attempt at a BQ. Derek & Charrissa were there as well, but I ran this one on my own. I was able to build some fitness since the April race in Eugene and improve my time by 13 minutes, but still over 3 minutes short of the BQ time.

Attempt #4: Eugene Marathon 2025 - 3:44:40

At long last - I did it! Derek returned to pace me (only 6 days after running the Boston Marathon) and Charrissa paced Todd for the first half of his marathon. Todd and I both ran personal best times on the day and I was over the moon to finally run a time with enough of a cushion that would likely allow me to run Boston (though I wouldn’t really know for months).

One of my favorite memories of the race was coming out of the stadium after the finish and Charrissa running up to me with tears in her eyes screaming “you did it!” and hugging me. She presented me with a shirt that said “Entering Boston” which she had purchased for me in Boston the weekend before to give to me.

I’m currently writing this on the plane to Boston and I’m wearing that shirt. Thinking about the story and the moment, wearing that shirt and truly getting ready to enter Boston feels surreal and magical.

We would find out in September that the buffer for this year’s race was 4:34, so I ended up qualifying with 1 minute and 6 seconds to spare. I’m sure that having Derek there with me that day allowed me to run fast enough to get there.

Preparing for Boston

I knew going into this race that my preparation wasn’t going to look the way I had hoped.

One other thing that is unique about the Boston Marathon is the course. I’ll share more about it on the other side, but it’s technical. It starts with a pretty significant downhill, and then some decent hills show up from miles 16-21 (including the iconic Heartbreak Hill). If you go out too fast, or aren’t prepared for the downhill to start, you can beat up your legs before you even get to the hills.

I was injured for a good amount of the build up for this race. I have been dealing with high hamstring tendinopathy since early August. I’m continuing to improve, but I wasn’t able to do much hill work until early March, but I’ve been doing some downhill starts and various hilly routes and repeats to prepare.

I’ve also been listening to podcasts and reading race reports to get a feel for what it will be like. I am fortunate to have many friends who have run the race, so I’ve asked lots of questions to be able to visualize what it will be like (though I still imagine it won’t be like I imagined!)

My Goal for Boston

My goal is to have FUN. To savor every moment. To truly enjoy this experience. It’s been a long journey to get here, from thinking it would never be possible for me, to the 4 attempts over 7 years, now it’s finally here.

I’ve imagined what it might be like to be among the 30,000 individuals fortunate enough to experience this race and now it’s finally happening. It has been a long and winding road and I wouldn’t change any of it.

When I think back to what the 2017 version of me might say to myself today I imagine she would say something like this:

Wow, you are amazing. You have done more than you ever thought possible. And you’re not finished. Keep dreaming, keep going, and make sure that you are having fun and making a difference along the way.

Great advice Jane, I think I’ll take it. 💙 💛

Want to know what happened in Boston? Here’s how the story continues…

What’s your Boston Marathon story?

I’ve talked to so many people over the past year about the Boston Marathon, and I’ve loved hearing all of the different stories.

From Boston locals who grew up with the race in their backyard, to athletes sharing their own experiences of attempting to qualify or racing one or multiple times.

If you have a connection to the Boston Marathon in any way, I’d love to hear your story.

Leave a comment

This year has felt different. I’ve found myself asking what really matters, and noticing a growing desire for more space and simplicity.

Even the way my vision board came together reflects that shift.

In the past I’ve done vision boards early in the year, many times prompted by a dear friend who would host a vision board party at her house. A group would gather and pour through stacks of magazines, stickers and books to cut out words, phrases and images that resonate and put them onto the background of your choice.

I have loved having a vision board the last several years and found that displaying it in my walk-in closet was a great place to be sure I saw it at least twice a day. You can see my 2025 vision board and how it helped me in this article I wrote:

A shift towards space and simplicity

I reached out to my friend to see when she was planning her vision board party this year, and she shared that she wasn’t hosting one. She still loved her board from last year and had a lot going on.

I felt a little disappointed. Part of me considered just keeping my board from last year, especially since so much of it still resonates.

But something about that didn’t feel quite right.

I couldn’t fully explain it at the time, but I knew I didn’t want to simply carry last year forward. I wanted to pause and ask what actually felt true for me now.

I had been sharing about vision boards and my process inside my group program Cultivate, and a member shared that she was inspired to create her vision board on Canva and set it to a local printing company and had it done in a short period of time.

Something about that immediately felt light.

There was no coordinating schedules, no gathering supplies, no waiting. Just a simple way to sit down, notice what resonated, and create something that reflected where I am right now.

I decided to try it, and it ended up aligning perfectly with my word for the year: Simplify. (You can read more about my word of this year below.)

The whole process felt more spacious. More intuitive. Less about doing it “the right way,” and more about allowing it to unfold.

Here is my 2026 vision board. It came together easily, and the biggest difference I notice is how much less crowded it feels.

When I look at my 2025 board, it’s exciting—but there’s a lot there. Everything feels tightly packed together, without much room to breathe.

This year, I’ve been craving space. Not just on the board, but in my life. Space in my days, in my mind, and in the way I make decisions.

I wanted the board to reflect that. To feel open. To feel calm. To leave room for what matters, instead of trying to hold everything at once.

It feels like a different way of relating to my life. Not adding more, but choosing what’s enough.

A Closer Look

The vision this year is centered around one true goal: creating a life that I love. I intentionally put that at the center of the space. Surrounding that, are other components that feel important this year:

• Simplify. My word of the year. I love this image of going from tangled and swirling to simple and spacious. A reminder to keep returning to what matters, especially when things start to feel full like too much.

• A lighthouse. I love this metaphor. Being able to withstand rough waters, to be a light in the darkness, to stand firm and steady and visible for other people to find. Not forcing or chasing, just staying grounded in who I am and letting that be enough.

• Do what you love, love what you do. A reminder to make sure I’m doing what I love, not what I think I “should” be doing. (And noticing the moments where I drift into “should,” and gently coming back.)

• Nutritious food in a heart-shaped bowl. Something about the shape, the color, and the variety of the foods here is a beautiful reminder for how I want to care for my body (while still leaving room for other delicious options as well!) Less about getting it right, more about caring for myself in a way that feels supportive and sustainable.

• Strength. Physical strength, emotional strength, resilience, and growing capacity. Especially the kind of strength that allows me to stay present when things feel uncomfortable, instead of pushing through or checking out.

• Runners at dawn. Focusing on rebuilding my run strength and endurance this year, and loving running with friends in the early morning. This photo also represents the importance of my relationships and getting out in nature. Those early morning hours are full of gratitude and connection and shape the day ahead.

• The Boston Marathon. Finally living out a dream that originated years ago. Running two historical marathons this year and shifting my identity as a runner. Stay tuned for my next post all about the journey to Boston. The race is in 2 weeks!

• Courage. The courage to do something different. Courage to examine myself and be open to change. The courage to follow my intuition and my heart, even when things get hard.

Reflecting on the Vision

More than anything, this board feels like a reflection of how I want to move through this year, with more space, more intention, and more trust in what matters.

Do you have a vision board, or a story about creating one? I’d love to hear about it, or what you notice when you see mine.

And if you’re here because of your relationship with food, I’ll be teaching a free workshop on April 13th: Stop Fighting the Part of You That Binges.

It’s a continuation of this same idea—learning how to work with yourself instead of against yourself—and I’d love to have you there.

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With slowing down.
With resting.
With feeling safe when nothing is being achieved.

From the outside, this can look like drive, capability, or ambition.
Internally, it can feel like pressure that never fully turns off.

For as long as I can remember, I’ve been on the go.

Always doing something. Always planning. Often working on several projects at once.

People frequently tell me, “You’re so busy,” or “How do you do it all?”

I even remember my mom saying I was doing too much when I was younger. I felt a lot of resentment toward that comment. From my perspective, I was doing things I enjoyed. I didn’t want to stop.

People might call me a high achiever, and I wouldn’t argue with that label. For a long time, I wore it like a badge of honor.

I still enjoy achieving. I still enjoy doing many things. But now I can see that constant motion hasn’t just been ambition. It has also been a way my nervous system learned to feel safe.

How do I know?

Because slowing down has never come easily to me.

Resting can bring up an underlying sense that I should be doing something. That I’m not doing enough. Or simply that my brain or body won’t turn off.

My body has sent me fatigue signals for years. Listening has been the hard part.

There was a time when binge eating was the only way my body could get me to stop.

After a binge, I would end up on the couch scrolling and searching “how do I stop binge eating?”

Those moments were uncomfortable, physically and emotionally. But they were also often the only times I slowed down.

At the time, I believed binge eating was the problem. Now I can see it was the way my body got me to stop.

My body didn’t know how else to get my attention.

I give myself far more rest now than I used to, but there is still a part of me that wants to keep going.

I began to realize that if I didn’t learn how to slow down intentionally, my body would continue finding ways to slow me down for me.

That realization made me more open to experimenting with change.

Challenge Accepted

I recently read Slowing Down to the Speed of Joy (I wrote about it here), where the author encourages readers to ban “busy” from their lives and to take one day each week for complete rest. Nothing that would be considered work.

As I read, I thought back to another challenge that changed my life years ago.

Our pastor encouraged married couples to commit to one regular date night each month. Todd and I accepted that challenge. We quickly increased it to two per month, and we’ve maintained that rhythm for years.

Those date nights have played a meaningful role in the depth and continued growth of our marriage.

I began to wonder what might happen if I approached rest with the same level of commitment.

The author called it a Sabbath, but that word doesn’t resonate with me. It can feel like a rule or obligation rather than a choice that enhances my life.

So I created my own version.

Introducing Leisure Day

Over the past few years, I noticed that I rarely take a day entirely for myself.

I often work on weekends, and with demanding training blocks, I sometimes arrive at Monday feeling more tired than I did on Friday.

So I decided to adopt what I’m calling Leisure Day.

One day each week is dedicated to anything I want to do. Nothing that would be considered work.

No email.
No client correspondence.
No laundry.
No grocery shopping.

Everything else is allowed.

Some weeks I nap.
Some weeks I read.
I’ve gotten a pedicure, connected with friends, watched extra TV, created a vision board, and started planning an upcoming trip.

It usually falls on a weekend, but I choose the day based on what’s happening in my schedule.

I’ve been practicing this for five weeks now, and the impact has surprised me.

What I’ve Noticed

I genuinely look forward to Leisure Day. It feels luxurious in a way I didn’t expect.
More importantly, I’m noticing subtle internal shifts.

I’m noticing more moments where I can distinguish between what I genuinely want to do and what I feel pressured to accomplish.

I’m experimenting with ways of being that aren’t organized around doing or achievement.

Just as date nights were intended to deepen connection in our marriage, Leisure Day is about deepening connection with myself.

It’s about allowing joy.
Allowing presence.
Allowing life to be experienced rather than managed.

Recently, I faced a weekend where I didn’t think Leisure Day would be possible. My workweek was shorter than usual, and I felt pressure to use that day to catch up.

After talking with a friend, I realized this was an opportunity to prove to myself that I can rest and still accomplish what matters.

So I honored and fully enjoyed my Leisure Day, and everything still got done.

That experience helped me see that urgency doesn’t always reflect reality. Sometimes it reflects old patterns of thinking and belief.

A Different Relationship With Rest

Leisure Day has become a kind of permission slip.

A reminder that rest, recovery, and enjoyment are not rewards for productivity.
They are essential parts of being human.

I’m committed to this experiment for at least the next year. I’m curious how my relationship with myself may deepen, just as my relationship with Todd has through consistent date nights.

I’m realizing that slowing down isn’t just a lifestyle change. It’s part of teaching my system that I am safe even when I’m not producing.

If slowing down feels difficult for you, you’re not alone.

Many of the women I work with find that rest can feel unfamiliar or even uncomfortable at first. Learning to create safety in stillness is often part of the process.

If this is something you’re navigating, spaces like The Gathering are designed to help you slow down, create safety, and listen to your own inner wisdom.

The hidden cost of always being “on” isn’t just exhaustion. It’s disconnection from yourself.

Leisure Day is one way I’m learning to reconnect with myself before my system has to create a full stop.

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I remember reading about Ramona Quimby, I loved the Choose Your Own Adventure Books, the Shel Silverstein poems and any crime-solving mystery.

Somewhere during college I shifted more towards self-development. I’m sure it coincided with my binge eating and thinking I was broken and needed to be fixed.

I enjoy self-development. I love having a growth mindset and constantly thinking about how things can be even better. And admittedly it comes with setbacks. If I’m constantly focused on what could be better, I’m not fully appreciating what’s already amazing and wonderful now.

I’ve started to feel this pull more recently. Maybe it has to do with turning 50, or maybe it’s because I’ve gotten really intentional with tuning in to what I really want for myself and trusting my inner wisdom. (If you’re interested in this too, come join me inside The Gathering.)

The pull is this: wanting to improve while also deeply enjoying and appreciating what I have now. Craving space. Shifting from wanting a result to wanting a feeling.

For years, growth meant fixing. Now I’m learning that growth can also mean savoring.

A client of mine has been working on similar things and recommended a book to me. This book came at exactly the right time with the message I need in this moment.

Slowing Down to the Speed of Joy by Matthew Kelly invites the reader to look at our busy lives and understand why we are filling them with so many things in the first place. He argues (compellingly) that when our lives are so filled with things, we simply can’t appreciate them all and can’t find joy because we are rushing from one thing to the next.

It’s a Christian book with references to the Bible and the way Jesus lived his life, however I think it’s applicable to anyone alive today, regardless of religious belief.

Key Takeaways

Here are just a few of the quotes from the book that I’ve highlighted:

A life dominated by urgent, busy and hurry is incompatible with the health and well-being of the human person, and incompatible with the things we say matter most.

This book really has me reflecting on what matters most, and realizing that when I feel rushed or busy, I’m getting further away from what’s truly important.

The speed of joy is deliberate, intentional and diligent. It may be fast at times; it may be slow at times. The speed of joy can include intense activity and great accomplishment.

I love that the speed of joy allows for all speeds. There’s nothing black and white about this. It’s about an internal felt sense that can only be measured from within.

The speed of joy is the speed that allows you to flourish.

I really resonate with the word flourish. It implies growth, health AND happiness. What a beautiful combination.

The other key takeaway from the book is to honor one day a week free from work. He refers to the Sabbath. I’m calling it a Leisure Day. Today will be my third weekly observation of a Leisure Day (this post was pre-scheduled). One day during the week where I only do what I truly want to do. Nothing work, chore or household related.

This simple shift has had big impacts. One day entirely for me. No thinking about what I could be doing, trying to optimize, or fit something in. Just allowing myself to truly enjoy my life.

This is my ultimate goal for this year. No results, numbers or performances. I choose to enjoy my life.

My Book

I wrote a book just over a year ago, The Binge Eating Breakthrough, to help people who feel out of control around food understand why they struggle and how to develop a peaceful relationship with food.

I’m running a 7 week Book Experience to go through the book together to turn the insights from the book into action. We start on Tuesday. If you’re tired of thinking about food all of the time, consider giving yourself the gift of being around others who understand so you can find a new perspective on an old struggle. Click below to learn more and join.

What Are You Reading?

I’d love to hear what you are currently reading, or a book that you’ve recently read that you would recommend. Tell me the name of the book, the author and why you love it! (If you have your own book, feel free to name it and be sure to tell us why it’s great!)

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This is the February 2026 round of the Book Experience.
Click here for the most current offering.

If willpower worked, it would have worked by now.

If you’ve ever wished you could stop fighting food and become a peaceful eater, this experience is for you.

The truth? Your struggle with food isn’t about food at all. It’s about safety, connection, and your nervous system—and that’s exactly what this 7-week experience is designed to support.

Sign Up Now

How many books have you read to try to change your relationship with food?

You’ve likely highlighted pages, nodded along with brilliant insights, and thought, “This is exactly what I need.”

But then what happens? The book goes on your shelf, and the cycle continues. It becomes 'shelf help,' rather than real help.

The problem isn’t the book. It’s trying to do it alone, without support or actionable guidance.

I wrote The Binge Eating Breakthrough to teach you why you struggle with food and how to stop. I created this experience to give you the support and actionable guidance you need to create true and lasting change with food.

The Support You’ve Been Looking For at an Accessible Price ($49)

This book and the 7 week experience will help you see the truth about your eating struggles and will give you everything you need to become a calm, connected and confident eater.

How It Works

🗓️ When: Tuesdays, February 17th - April 7th, 2026 (no call on 3/24)

🕕 Time: 3pm PT/4pm MT/5pm CT/6 PM ET

💻 Where: Live on Zoom (replays available)

Each week, we’ll dive into a key section of the book and turn its principles into actionable steps. Sessions are interactive, supportive, and designed to meet you where you are.

Reading is encouraged but optional. You don’t need to be caught up or prepared to benefit from each call.

Weekly Schedule:
(dates marked with * include additional Q&A for Deep Dive participants)

Week 1 (Feb 17): Foundations & A New Perspective on Binge Eating

Week 2 (Feb 24): Understanding Your Brain, Your Story and Where You Are Going

Week 3 (Mar 3): Building Connection with Your Body, Emotions & Food *

Week 4 (Mar 10): Compassion – Changing Internal Dialogue

Week 5 (Mar 17): Developing Confidence & Resilience

Week 6 (Mar 31): Navigating Food Choices & Daily Eating Practices *

Week 7 (Apr 7): Integrating & Sustaining Your Breakthrough

What You Get:

• Weekly Breakthrough Sessions: Interactive calls to explore and apply the book’s principles with my guidance so that you can understand the root causes of your binge eating and what keeps the cycle going.

• Personalized Support Inside the Group: Get your questions answered and receive encouragement tailored to your challenges so that you know exactly what to do next to break the cycle.

• Connection: Connect with me, with others who share the struggle with food, and learn to deepen your connection with yourself so you can feel the healing power of co-regulation.

Pricing:

7 Week Experience: $49

Includes 7 interactive group sessions.

Deep Dive Experience Upgrade: $198

While the 7-week experience gives you the foundation, Deep Dive takes you deeper into lasting transformation. In your private 25-minute session, we'll address your specific triggers and create a personalized roadmap for your unique challenges.

Plus, the additional Q&A sessions give you extra time during the weeks we dive deep into the nervous system, internal family systems, and navigating food choices—where the heart of the transformational work happens. Limited spots to ensure intimate, personalized support.

If you’re the type of person that likes to go all in, this option is for you!

Sign Up Now

You might be thinking:

“It’s so hard to do it alone, but if I had the right support, maybe everything would change.”

“I’ve read so many books and nothing has helped, why would this be different?”

“I don’t consider myself a binge eater, but I know my relationship with food isn’t healthy—can this help me?”

Here’s the truth: binge eating isn’t about willpower or food. It’s about understanding your brain, your emotions, and your needs in a compassionate way. Even if you don’t binge, the power of seeing your eating behaviors in a new way changes everything.

Who This Is For

This experience is perfect for you if:

• You're tired of the restrict-binge cycle.

• You've tried both willpower and removing restriction and still feel stuck.

• You're ready for real, lasting change.

• You want a safe, supportive space to work through your challenges.

• You’re tired of trying to figure it out alone and want expert guidance.

What’s Possible For You

• Freedom from food obsession

• Confidence in social eating situations

• Peace with your body

• Energy for what truly matters

Sign Up Now

This Isn’t Your Typical Book Club

Have you ever been to a book club where the author is actually there to answer your questions and help you feel like you aren’t alone? This will be a transformative experience that combines the power of the book’s insights with personalized coaching and community support.

You’ll walk away with more than knowledge—you’ll have practical tools and the confidence to apply them in your life.

Addressing Your Concerns

I don’t have time.

Each session is just 60 minutes. And even if you miss a live session, you’ll have access to recordings to fit your schedule.

What if I feel awkward in a group setting?

There’s no pressure to share unless you’re comfortable. Many participants find transformation simply by listening and knowing they’re not alone.

What if I get behind and don’t read the book?

This is a “reading optional” experience. You don’t need to have read the book to benefit from every single call.

What if I miss some of the calls?

All replays will be available through April 30th. You’re welcome to attend live when you can and watch the replays on your own schedule. You can also join anytime before then and still receive the full benefit of the experience.

Take the First Step

Imagine 7 weeks from now: feeling calm, confident, and connected around food. Knowing that you’re not alone and that you have the tools to create a peaceful relationship with eating. This transformation is possible for you.

For $49, you can join The Binge Eating Breakthrough Book Experience and take the first step toward a life free from feeling out of control around food.

Ready to Begin?

Click below to secure your spot (for just $7/call!)

Sign Up Now

(Optional Deep Dive Upgrade: Add a 25-minute 1:1 coaching session and two group Q&A sessions and for $198. Spots are limited.)

Want a Sneak Peak of the Book?

Not sure if this book is for you? Listen to me read a chapter of the book and decide for yourself.

Meet Your Guide - I’m Jane Pilger

I still vividly remember my first binge – the aftermath of a care package filled with fun-sized candy bars during my first semester in college. Surrounded by empty wrappers, I felt broken and ashamed. Little did I know that this moment would kickstart a 25+ year cycle of restricting and binging.

Over the decades that followed, I tried everything:

• Multiple therapists

• Two rounds of intensive outpatient treatment

• Countless restrictive diets

I desperately attempted to change my thoughts and seek control. But something was missing. What I didn't understand then was my body, its needs, and how to cultivate trust within myself.

The real breakthrough came when I started exploring:

• The science of the brain and body

• A trauma-informed approach

• The power of self-compassion

Through this journey, I learned to create safety, trust, and connection within myself. Food no longer fills that role. It’s my passion to help others learn how to cultivate this for themselves.

With over 25 years of personal experience and hundreds of clients coached, I bring a unique blend of empathy, understanding, and practical knowledge to anyone who struggles with food.

Are you ready to transform your relationship with food and your body for good?

Sign Up Now

Frequently Asked Questions

1. I don’t binge. Will this book help me? If you struggle with food this book will help. You do not need to have personal experience with binge eating to benefit from the concepts in the book and support from each call.

2. Do you provide the book? No. You will purchase the book separately (available on Amazon.) There is also a companion workbook that you can purchase to take your work deeper.

3. What if this doesn't work and I'm disappointed again? If you're asking this question, you've likely blamed yourself for every program that didn't "work." Here's the truth: you didn't fail those programs—they failed you by not addressing the real reasons behind your eating patterns. This experience is different because there's no way to fail. Every insight, every moment of awareness, every small shift is progress. You're not trying to be perfect; you're learning to be human.

4. Do I have to share my personal experiences? No. Sharing is entirely optional. Many participants find value just by listening, learning, and reflecting on their own journey. You can attend anonymously if you prefer or simply watch the replays on your own time.

5. What's the refund policy? If you attend the first session and feel this isn’t the right fit for you, I offer a full refund as long as you notify me within 24 hours of the first session.

Any Other Questions?

If you have any additional questions, ask them in the comments, send me a DM or email me at hello@janepilger.com and I’ll get them answered!

Join now and in just a few weeks you will have new awareness and tools that you can use in every aspect of your life.

Sign Up Now

Even with all the tools I have.
Even with years of doing this work.
Even with a life that, from the outside, looks full and meaningful.

I still feel the pull to move faster than my system wants to go.

To look for reassurance.
To check my thinking against someone else’s.
To wonder if there’s a “better” way to do what I’m already doing.

What I’m working on right now is slowing down enough to trust myself more.

Not in a dramatic, all-or-nothing way.
But in the small, ordinary moments where it’s easiest to override my own knowing.

To give myself space to hear what’s true for me.

What I’m noticing in myself

When I don’t slow down, I lose access to myself.

I can still function. I can still make decisions. I can still be productive and thoughtful and engaged.

But my choices start coming from my head instead of my body.
From pressure instead of clarity.
From “What should I do?” instead of “What feels true right now?”

And when I pause long enough, really pause, I notice something else.

I already know.

The answer isn’t always loud or dramatic. Sometimes it’s subtle. Sometimes it’s inconvenient. Sometimes it asks me to wait.

But it’s there.

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Why slowing down feels so hard

As I’ve been having conversations with others, I’ve realized how common this experience is.

Many people tell me they want to slow down, but they can’t.

Not because they don’t value it.
Not because they don’t understand it.
But because slowing down doesn’t feel safe in their bodies.

When your nervous system has learned that staying alert, busy, or productive is what keeps you okay, stillness can feel uncomfortable, or even threatening.

So instead of slowing down, we look outward.

We ask for reassurance.
We gather more opinions.
We listen to people who seem confident, grounded, or certain—hoping something will click.

But the more we look outside ourselves for clarity, the harder it becomes to hear our own inner guidance.

Where clarity comes from

In my own life, and in my work with others, I kept noticing something.

When people are given a space that feels calm, steady, and non-demanding, something shifts.

Not because anyone tells them what to do.
Not because they try harder.

But because their systems finally have room to settle.

Breath slows.
Thoughts soften.
Clarity emerges. Not as an answer, but as a felt sense.

That’s when I really understood something I now come back to again and again:

Clarity isn’t something you force.
It’s something that becomes accessible when your system feels safe enough to listen.

This is why so often I get my clarity during long bike rides. I have the space to hear what’s true for me. For some this happens in the shower, or in nature where you have space and time for yourself.

Why I created The Gathering

I created The Gathering because I need this space myself.

I need a reason to slow down.
A place to practice listening inward.
A rhythm that isn’t about producing, fixing, or improving, but about being with what’s true.

The Gathering is a monthly guided space where we do this together.

There’s gentle guidance.
There’s grounding.
There’s reflection.

And there’s no pressure to arrive with answers or leave with a plan.

I’m not hosting this from a place of “having it figured out.”
I’m hosting it because I’m committed to walking this path. Slowly, honestly, and alongside others who are doing the same.

Creating this space is something I need as much as anyone else.

What I hope people experience

My hope isn’t that people leave The Gathering with answers.

It’s that they leave with access.

Access to themselves.
Access to a steadier internal signal.
Access to the sense of, “I know what’s right for me right now.”

Over time, that kind of access changes how you move through your life.

You stop second-guessing as much.
You rely less on outside validation.
You begin to trust your timing, your choices, your pace.

Not because someone told you to, but because your body remembers how.

Learn More & Join The Gathering

A gentle invitation

If this resonates, I’m hosting an Intention Setting & Alignment Workshop this Monday evening (January 12th) as part of The Gathering as an early joining bonus.

It’s a chance to slow down together and begin the year from clarity rather than pressure.

And whether or not you join, I hope this serves as a reminder, for both of us, that slowing down isn’t a failure of discipline.

It’s often the doorway back to ourselves.

You can learn more and join The Gathering here.

What about you?

I’d love to know I’m not the only one feeling the pressure to move faster than my system wants to.

What comes up for you around the idea of slowing down?
(You’re welcome to reply or comment.)

Last year, my word was Jubilee. I was turning 50 and wanted to create a year centered on joy and doing things I never thought were possible for me. It was an incredible year that left me with many memories and lessons learned. You can read more about it here.

Some of my previous words have been Connection, Trust, Savor, Joy, Brave, Love, and Growth.

This year’s word came to me in November with a quiet whisper.

Simplify.

This word feels different from any of my previous words, yet it feels deeply appropriate for where I am in my life right now. I’ve been reflecting on what truly matters to me and noticing where I tend to get in my own way.

I often get in my own way by over-doing - over-thinking, over-working, over-planning, over-efforting. There’s often an underlying belief that what is here isn’t enough, and that more effort will somehow create more safety or certainty.

Along with the word Simplify, another phrase landed for me:

Slow down to speed up.

This year is about slowing down. About focusing on what truly matters and being willing to let other things go.

Two Simple Filters

I have two filters that will guide my decisions this year:

1. Is it simple?
   If not, how can I make it more simple?

2. Does it light me up?
   If not, how can I make it more fun - or what would it take for me to let it go?

This approach feels very different from how I’ve operated in the past - and interestingly, that is what lights me up. I often tell my clients that when you want something to change, doing something different, even in a small way, can interrupt old patterns and create new possibilities.

I know I’ll need reminders of these filters throughout the year. I’ve already shared them with my inner circle and invited them to reflect them back to me - to ask me how a decision fits within my two filters when I’m unsure or drifting into old habits.

I’m sharing them with you now as well, and I plan to reflect on them throughout the year to see what unfolds.

Is it simple?
Does it light me up?

If not, how can I simplify or bring in more joy?
Or what would it take to be willing to let it go?

Slow down to speed up.

Trust that I can be guided from the inside toward my next step.

Part of slowing down, for me, means creating space to hear myself - my body, my intuition, my own internal guidance.

If you’d like to create that kind of space with me, I’d love to have you join me inside The Gathering.

I created The Gathering with this same filter in mind. It’s simple, and it’s a place to slow down and start learning how to listen inward and trust what you hear.

We begin on January 21st, and if you join before January 10th, you’ll also be invited to a 2026 Intention Setting & Alignment Workshop, where I’ll walk you through setting intentions for the year ahead. Join today to lock in your Founding Member rate.

If you have any questions about The Gathering and whether it would be a good fit for you, please feel free to reach out. There is no pressure to join - simply an invitation to be guided in slowing down and listening to the wisdom of your own body.

Join The Gathering

I’d love to know: Do you have a word for the year? Or any practices that help you begin a new year with intention?

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What a year it has been! There were so many highlights:

• Qualifying for the Boston Marathon on my fourth attempt

• Winning my age group at the Boulder 70.3 Ironman and qualifying for the 2026 World Championships

• Choosing not to go to the 2026 70.3 World Championships to prioritize connection and friendship

• Participating in the 2025 Ironman 70.3 World Championships in Marbella, Spain and exploring Southern Spain

• Going on an Alaskan cruise with Todd’s mom and her sister

• Experiencing Christmas in New York City

• Looking forward to, enjoying, and appreciating turning 50 surrounded by friends and family

• Continuing to help people around the world understand why they do what they do, especially when patterns feel confusing or frustrating

• Deepening my personal work and sharing that work and knowledge with others

Some of these items are obvious external achievements, but the work that matters most to me is what’s happening on the inside. Over time, I’ve come to see that the outside is often a reflection of what’s happening within. When something on the outside feels out of alignment, the place to look first is inside.

As I sit here at the end of the year, reflecting on 2025, a few key internal lessons rise to the surface:

Make the Vision Visible

I’m so grateful to my dear friend Jeni who holds a Vision Board Party every January. A group of friends gets together and creates a visual representation of the dreams we are holding for ourselves in the year to come.

At the end of the party, each person shares their board and their stories, and it often begins with a reflection of just how much of the previous vision has already come to fruition.

I remember being excited to create my new vision board but also still loving my board from 2024. I think this is a sign of an effective vision board - if it still lights you up 12 months later.

I keep my vision board in my closet so that I can see it every day (sometimes multiple times a day). It’s a reminder of what I’m working towards and what is important to me.

There have been times where I haven’t felt it, times were I think “oh yeah, I kind of forgot” and times where I’ve thought “yes, I’m right on target”. I recently started imagining what my vision board is going to look like for 2026.

Hold Tight to the Vision, But Not the How or the When

Think back to something you’ve accomplished for yourself that you are the most proud of. Anything at all - could be a job, a relationship, an event, a trip, a degree, anything.

As you reflect on that thing, let me ask you a few questions:

• When did you know you wanted that thing? How did the dream come to be for you?

• Did it unfold in the way you imagined?

• If not, what was different? How did it unfold?

So often the dream is clear, but along with that comes an expectation of how it will come to be along with an imaginary timeline. The truth of the matter is that the how and the when very rarely unfold the way we imagine. It’s often when we loosen our grip on the how that the thing happens.

Meeting Todd was like this for me (and for him). I had a vision of having a loving marriage, but I wasn’t looking for it that day that I sat down next to him at Billy’s Longbar in September of 1997. But as soon as we started talking I knew he was different and that I wanted to spend as much time with him as possible.

Qualifying for Boston was very much like this for me. I couldn’t have imagined it would take 4 tries to qualify, and I was willing for it to take even more than that. I had the clear vision of running there, and kept taking steps towards it, learning lessons along the way.

Lessons Will Continue to Show Up Until You’ve Learned What You Need to Know

This year has been incredible, yet a familiar pattern still shows up for me. Doing too much. Not enough rest. The body forcing me to slow down when I don’t slow down on my own.

I’m still learning this lesson. And until I truly learn and have the wisdom from it (wisdom = knowledge applied), this lesson will continue to show up to teach me. In the meantime I can recognize it as a pattern, not a problem as I continue to unwind it.

This lesson has been more present in the last quarter of the year, and it is leading me to my word for 2026. More on this in the next post, but for now, the lesson is that rest is an important (integral) part of growth.

You can’t grow by constantly doing. The growth actually happens when you slow down, when the adaptations of the work can take place. Constantly doing just creates more stress which leads to breakdown (or burnout), not growth.

So next year I’m going to slow down. Rest more. Become more attuned to what my body is asking for. Develop an even deeper connection with my body than I’ve had before.

Next year is all about curiosity and connection from the inside out.

All You Ever Have is This Present Moment. Appreciate it and Enjoy It.

I spend a lot of time planning and thinking about what’s coming. I used to spend a lot of time in the past - with regrets and rumination.

If you are spending time in the future (anxiety and worry) or the past (regret, loss, rumination), you don’t have time and space to be in the only moment you have. This very moment.

This is also a lesson I am continuing to learn. When I can bring myself back to this very moment and recognize that I truly do have everything I need, I am filled with gratitude and appreciation that makes life far better than any finish line, accomplishment or award.

The gift of presence. Gratitude. Finding sufficiency in life in this very moment - not when some future thing happens.

I’d love to hear from you: What did 2025 teach you that you don’t want to forget?

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My parents created a lot of meaning and tradition around Christmas that has stayed with me into my adult years.

For as long as I can remember I have wanted to be in New York City at Christmastime - to see the tree at Rockefeller Plaza, the ice skating rink, all of the window displays, Central Park, and many more iconic scenes from so many movies.

I had this desire, but never truly gave myself permission to imagine it becoming real. It felt like a “one day” longing, without the commitment to actually believing I could experience it for myself.

This year I turned 50 on the day after Christmas, and as I set my focus on my Jubilee year, and doing things I never thought would be possible for me, it seemed like the perfect year to actually turn this dream into reality.

The Anticipation

We invited a few close friends and family. Two couples said yes: my sister and brother-in-law and another couple that we travel and train with. We started planning the trip in April, gathering lots of suggestions and booking shows, reservations and excursions.

With each little planning session, with each discussion with others who had been to NYC, with each reservation booked, I was more and more excited about what was to come.

The entire month of December I awaited the trip with great anticipation, watching as many Christmas movies as possible (especially those set in NYC) and participating in Christmas events around town.

I wanted to spend the month anticipating the trip so that when we arrived I would be fully ready to immerse myself in the experience. In previous travels I have spent so much time planning the trip and trying to get all of my tasks around home done so that I could be gone that I was simply busy until the moment we arrived. I wanted to savor the anticipation and believed that it would magnify the experience once we got there.

A Wonderful Christmastime

We arrived on December 22nd in the evening and walked to Bryant Park for the Winter Village Christmas Markets, ice skating rink and many food vendors. It was a great entry to the trip - though very crowded. This video captured so many iconic NYC moments in 30 seconds - the hot dog stand, Santa-driven pedi-cab, and a horse mounted police officer! You can also just make out the windows along street level at Saks that were decorated for the holiday.

One thing I noticed as we walked among the food vendors to decide what to eat for dinner was that I have a more clear sense of what I want and don’t want when it comes to food. The choices weren’t made from fear or what I “should” eat, but truly what sounded good, what would taste good, and what would make me feel good later.

On December 23rd we had an incredible bagel breakfast at Broad Nosh Bagels Deli and walked through Central Park to the American Museum of Natural History. We spent most of the day there and then went to Sardi’s Italian Restaurant and saw The Play That Went Wrong (very entertaining!).

On Christmas Eve we took the My Christmas in New York bus tour. It was a great way to see the main Christmas-related sights and learn some new facts about the area.

The tour ended at Papillon - a restaurant that gets decorated over-the-top for Christmas. We had lunch there amongst more decorations than I had ever seen under one roof. It was a great way to spend the morning in anticipation of the holiday to come.

After lunch we went to the Museum of Modern Art and then got an official photo in front of Rockefeller Plaza before going to Trattoria dell Arte for dinner.

We are all smiles in the photo, but what happened next was a moment to remember. We were walking to dinner and there were big crowds standing across the street from Saks waiting for the light show to start (the same one from the video). Because there were so many people standing and waiting, there was limited room for the people who wanted to actually go somewhere. We ended up in a VERY crowded space that felt like there was no place to go. My nervous system was definitely activated, but I was able to stay connected enough to be aware of my discomfort and keep pushing forward. We made it through eventually, thanks to a local who was very vocal in telling people what to do and how to keep things moving forward.

Christmas Day

On Christmas Day we all went to Central Park. My sister, brother-in-law and I all walked around casually with a cup of coffee, while the other three went for a run around the park.

Our usual Christmas tradition is presents in the morning and a walk midday before preparing for the evening meal. I loved getting outside first thing and exploring Central Park. We could have stayed there for hours, but had to get back for brunch.

We went to Jams for brunch and then saw the Rockettes Christmas Spectacular as they celebrated their 100th anniversary. We discovered the Radio City Music Hall is the largest theater in New York, with an audience size of approximately 6,000. The show was spectacular and we all commented that it was the perfect thing to do on Christmas Day!

After the show we walked to Grand Central Station and then to Oscar Wilde, a sister restaurant to Papillon, and also over-the-top decorated for Christmas. We enjoyed Christmas themed drinks and tasty food and ended up back in our hotel room for a night-cap and more conversation.

Celebrating 50

On my birthday I went to the hotel gym to give myself the gift of some movement and taking care of my body. It wasn’t planned, but I woke up naturally and just wanted to go to the gym. It felt like the perfect way to start the day with care and intention for my body. We walked down the street for breakfast at La Grande Boucherie. We enjoyed a delicious meal. I don’t think I’ve ever had ice cream after breakfast before, but I was happy to enjoy it as a birthday treat from the restaurant.

I typically have a tradition where I go shopping on my birthday - there are often great sales and it’s fun to buy something on my birthday. We didn’t quite account for just how many other people might have had the same idea. We did go into Saks 5th Avenue and Uniqlo, but the lines at Lego and FAO Schwartz were way longer than we wanted to endure (especially since it was only in the 20s outside!).

I was glad we decided to go inside Tiffany. It was beyond what I could have imagined! 9 total floors. The top two by appointment only and the 2nd floor for administrative offices. There is a beautiful spiral staircase that goes from the 3rd floor to the 7th.

Afterwards we went to the Plaza Hotel for tea at the Palm Court to celebrate my birthday. The food was delicious (and beautiful!), the service was impeccable, and we had great conversation talking about lessons learned and key life experiences in my first 50 years.

I wasn’t able to finish all of my food and was happy to pack up a to go box to enjoy later in the evening after the show.

I took the photo below after tea. This is the Louis Vuitton building that is currently under construction. The scaffolding is designed to look like a LV bag. I love this photo because you also see the star decoration and the adjacent Tiffany building lit up with the Tiffany blue lights. (You can also see the “by appointment only” floors at the top of the Tiffany building!)

As we walked to our final show it started snowing. We had been watching the weather forecast and knew it was supposed to snow a good amount that evening. We saw Maybe Happy Ending - a new Broadway musical that won six Tony awards this year including Best Musical. It was a heart-warming show in a beautiful theater and truly the perfect ending to our trip.

By the time the show ended a few inches of snow had accumulated and the roads were getting slick and the sidewalks slushy. It was fascinating to watch the City employees getting ready for the weather all day - putting down salt, sweeping the sidewalks, etc.

We were able to get out on the morning of the 27th depsite many other flights around ours getting canceled. We did have to de-ice the plane and the jetway was very cold, but it could have been much worse.

Overall we got to experience the snow and winter conditions in New York without the nasty side effects.

This is a trip I will never forget. Big city life isn’t something I would want to be in all of the time, but it was fun to visit and to be able to experience all of these things personally that I’ve seen over the years.

I’m so grateful that I allowed myself to have this dream and to create the experience that I’ve always wanted. As the year winds to a close it has me thinking about what else I want that I haven’t named or haven’t thought was possible.

I’d love to know if you’re open to sharing - is there something you’ve wanted for a long time but never quite let yourself imagine as real?

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This month on our Courage, Compassion and Connection call we talked about finding pockets of peace during the holidays — and what to do when peace seems elusive this year.

We looked at how selecting one or two anchor words and naming what matters most to you this season can ease internal pressure and create more space for connection and presence. We also talked about how to navigate a holiday season where you simply can’t find the magic or the motivation to “do all the things” you usually do at this time of year.

In this call, we:

• Discussed the importance of choosing your intention for the holiday

• Chose two personal “anchor words” to support a steadier experience

• Clarified what’s truly important for you this year

• Identified potential obstacles and strategies for each situation

• Talked about how to navigate feeling grief during this time of year

Read more

These calls are a space for you to ask questions, receive support, and explore how to become more calm, connected, and confident — not just with food, but in all areas of your life.

Each call begins with a short teaching from me, followed by open space for your questions and reflections.

This month, we’ll continue our focus on the nervous system as I share how to find peace amongst the holiday chaos and everything that is happening in the month of December.

I’ll also be sharing an update of what’s to come in 2026 - I’ve been working on my own inner listening and will be sharing a new offering that will help you cultivate more self-trust starting in January.

If you can’t join us live, don’t worry — the replay will be available within 24 hours.

Have a question you'd love for me to address during the call? Just reply to this email or send me a DM, and I’ll make sure to include it.

I’d love to see you there!

November CCC Call Replay:

Not a paid subscriber yet? No problem — upgrade your subscription to join the call or watch the replay.

No matter where you are in your journey I want to make sure you have the support you need.

CCC Call Details & Zoom Link:

Date: Wednesday, December 17th

Time: 3pm PT / 4pm MT / 5pm CT / 6pm ET

Topic: Finding Peace Amongst the Holiday Chaos

Read more

We fill our days with bike rides, swims, runs, and golf, and our evenings with family meals and conversation. We do something similar in late March as a spring break (and spring training) trip to capitalize on the best weather.

This year, I was especially looking forward to the bike rides—some challenging routes with Todd and our traditional Tubac Tuesday ride with his dad, where we ride to the local coffee shop and enjoy a pastry and coffee with his friends.

The Injury I Didn’t Want to Face

I’ve been dealing with an injury since early August (I talked about it here). This is the time of year where I need to focus fully on healing from high hamstring tendinopathy so I can be ready to train for the Boston Marathon in April.

I saw a couple of providers the week before Thanksgiving, and both suggested that it would be wise to stop riding my bike for 2–3 weeks to allow the tendon to heal. While I agreed with the reasoning, it was tough advice to accept.

I noticed myself saying, “I can’t ride my bike next week.” As soon as those words left my mouth, I could feel the heaviness of them—the powerless, victim energy that made the injury feel like it was taking something away from me.

Riding my bike is my happy place. It’s where I feel most like myself. And losing that time felt painful.

The Shift That Changed Everything

But the truth is this: I am choosing not to ride.

I could ride my bike. It is absolutely my choice. But if I do, it’s possible I would extend the time it will take to fully recover from this injury.

Saying yes to riding in Arizona now could mean saying no to arriving at Boston fully healed and ready to run.

So I shifted to: “I choose not to ride.”

And immediately, something softened. I could feel the difference in my body. Instead of closing in around the loss, I opened to curiosity. What might I notice or experience if I wasn’t spending several hours riding my bike on three different days in Arizona?

That question created space I didn’t expect.

What I Found When I Created Space

Here’s what I discovered:

• Time to focus on a project I’ve wanted to work on for months but never had the bandwidth for.

• A lake just down the street from my in-laws—something I never knew existed—surrounded by a beautiful dirt path, rich history, and the wildlife of the area.

• Extra time in the pool, which actually felt soothing and grounding.

I trust that I’ll get back on my bike soon. And I’m grateful I’m honoring my needs right now. Yes, I love riding, but I don’t want to make choices based solely on enjoyment if, in the long run, they pull me away from what matters most.

I also don’t have to be extreme about any of it. The bike will be there. When I return to it, I know I’ll appreciate it in a new way. For now, I’ve discovered a different kind of appreciation—a project that’s suddenly much further along, a new lake that I never would have found otherwise, and a renewed appreciation for magical sunrises and sunsets.

A Question for You

Where in your life are you saying, “I can’t…”?
And what might shift if you replaced it with, “I choose not to…”?

What happens inside you when the language changes from limitation to choice?

I’d love to hear your thoughts on this in the comments!

After the Race: Returning to Myself

If the week leading up to the Ironman 70.3 World Championships was a lesson in flexibility and self-trust, the days that followed were a chance to exhale. Race week asks so much of my mind, body, and nervous system. After it’s over, there’s a settling—not just physically, but emotionally, too.

The night of the race, Todd and I had dinner with my friend overlooking the water. Paella, Iberico jamón, and goat cheese tasted even better with the relief and gratitude of the day behind us.

Sitting there, I noticed how different it feels now to enjoy a meal without the chatter that used to follow me everywhere. Food can just be food. Savored, enjoyed, peaceful, and a part of the experience rather than the thing that takes over the experience.

The next morning, we packed up our things and pointed the car west, ready to explore a part of Spain I had been dreaming about for years.

Cádiz: Sunsets, Castles, and Rich History

On the drive, we pulled over to take a photo of the Rock of Gibraltar. The sky was clear enough that we could see across the water to the continent of Africa—one of those awe-filled moments that catches you off guard.

Our next stop was Vejer de la Frontera, a white village perched high on a hill. We wandered narrow streets, stepped into the cathedral, and enjoyed a Moroccan lunch at El Jardín de la Califa. We enjoyed our traditional post-race ice cream overlooking the Plaza.

For so long, treats like this felt complicated. Today it was simply enjoyable, a small pleasure instead of something that carried extra meaning, wrapped up in old rules and overthinking.

Then we continued on to Cádiz.

Cádiz is often described as one of the oldest continuously inhabited cities in Western Europe. Our hotel, the Parador de Cádiz, looked out over the water—every room facing the Atlantic. That first evening’s sunset felt like an invitation to slow down.

The next day, we walked over 20,000 steps through castles, the cathedral, and the Roman theatre. By late afternoon, our bodies asked for a break. We listened. We returned to the room and rested before watching the sun dip below the horizon again.

It was one of those days that filled more of me than it emptied.

When the Smallest Moments Become the Most Memorable

On Tuesday, we made our way to another white village—Arcos de la Frontera. It was beautiful and a little stressful, with narrow roads and tricky turns. But then we stepped into a tiny bakery run by a fourth-generation baker who made us jamón y queso bocadillos on bread she kneaded by hand.

We listened to her stories, savored her bread, and let the moment unfold slowly.

That simple sandwich—fresh bread, warm conversation, a quiet corner in the middle of the day—became one of my favorite memories of the entire trip.

It reminded me that travel isn’t only about the big landmarks. It’s about these small, unplanned pauses that land somewhere deep inside you.

Sevilla’s Warmth, Wonder, and Narrow Streets

From Arcos, we drove to Sevilla, winding through streets that felt just barely wide enough for our car. That first evening, we visited Las Setas—the largest wooden structure in the world. I only managed to purchase one ticket, so while I explored the walkways above, Todd found a table below and ordered a drink.

We met for dinner overlooking the plaza as the mushrooms lit up and musicians filled the square with sound.

The next morning, we toured the Real Alcázar, a place where every tile and arch feels like a story. We wandered through the cathedral, and then, in keeping with what our bodies were asking for, we napped again. I have always loved a good nap!

That evening, we went to a flamenco show—powerful, expressive, and alive. The food was unexpectedly good, and the performance felt like the kind of art that moves through a person rather than being performed by them.

Flamenco, Food, and Feeling Fully Alive

What I loved most about flamenco is the way it holds the full range of being human—grief, joy, longing, intensity—all expressed openly, without apology. Watching it, I was reminded of how often we try to contain our own intensity, whether it’s emotion, stress, hunger, or desire.

Flamenco was a reminder that there is a place for all of it.

Málaga: A Brief Visit With a Lasting Impression

On Thursday, we toured the Plaza de Toros, Sevilla’s bullfighting ring, and learned more about the history of the sport. After that, we made our way back toward Málaga with one final stop in Estepa, a white village known for its sweets.

Our time in Málaga was short, but we made room for the Alcazaba—an 11th-century fortress—and the Roman theatre below it. We ended the night with a drink at a local bar and one last bowl of paella.

The next morning, we flew home. My bike stayed behind again, deciding it needed a little more time in Spain—a fitting, humorous end to a trip that started with missing luggage and unexpected detours.

What This Week Taught Me About Living Fully

Looking back, these days after the race felt like their own kind of lesson.

Not just about travel.

Not just about rest.

But about the way we move through the world when we aren’t rushing, bracing, or trying to hold everything together.

There was space to savor.
Space to listen.
Space to feel.
Space to let things be good without earning them.

And that, I’ve found, is often where the real richness is.

For Anyone Who Struggles Quietly With Food

One of the things I hear most often from the people I work with is how heavy it can feel to travel, eat, or even relax when food feels complicated—especially when no one else knows what’s going on inside.

On this trip, I ate paella, ice cream, fresh bread, new foods, familiar foods—all woven into the joy and meaning of the days themselves. And if you long for that kind of ease, or you wish food could feel like part of the experience instead of the thing that overshadows it, you’re not alone.

If you’ve been wanting to understand your own challenging moments with food more clearly, the Binge Breakthrough Mini Series is a gentle and supportive place to start.
It can help you make sense of why food feels so hard sometimes and what a steadier, kinder path forward can look like.

Click here to start watching.

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This month on our Courage, Compassion and Connection call, we explored a strategy that you can use this holiday season to turn events that might normally trigger you into something you actually want to happen.

This is a game that I first learned about in Intensive Outpatient Treatment (IOP) for binge eating disorder. It had a powerful impact on me and I’m excited to share it with you.

In this call, we:

• Discussed some additional details of my recent Ironman 70.3 triathlon in Spain

• Described the Breakthrough Bingo game and why it is so powerful

• Distinguished the difference between a threat and a challenge to the nervous system

• Explored additional holiday strategies for peace with food and your body

• Clarified the concept of Supportive Structure and how it is a powerful antidote to rigid food rules

Next Month’s CCC Call

Date: Wednesday, December 17th

Time: 3pm PT / 4pm MT / 5pm CT / 6pm ET

Topic: Finding Peace Amongst the Holiday Chaos

Read more

And while this is a race story, it’s really a story about being human.
About what we do when a week falls apart before it even begins.
About finding steadiness when everything around you feels unsteady.
About letting go of the plan you had and staying with the moment you’re actually in.

You don’t need to care about triathlon to connect with that.
We all know what it’s like for life to ask something unexpected of us.

You’ve had your own moments like this—moments that asked more of your flexibility, your self-trust, and your capacity to stay on your own side than you thought you had in you.

This race was one of those moments for me.
And that’s the real story I want to share.

After the finish line, when I finally made my way through photos, food, and medical and reached Todd, the first words out of my mouth were:

“That was so HARD… and I am so proud of myself.”

My times weren’t what I had pictured. My body wasn’t cooperating the way I had trained for. The week leading up to the race was one curveball after another.

And yet, internally, it was one of the richest race experiences I’ve ever had.

This is the story of how a Good Vibes shirt, a missing bike, delayed luggage, and a painful hamstring turned into a live-action lesson in resilience, flexibility, and self-trust.

And how all of that connects to navigating hard things in everyday life—including food.

The Start of a Week I Couldn’t Have Predicted

The Ironman 70.3 World Championships move around the world each year. Athletes qualify by placing well at other 70.3 races; I punched my ticket in June, winning my age group at Ironman 70.3 Boulder.

Last year, Worlds were in Taupō, New Zealand. This year: Marbella, Spain.

Spain has held a special place in my heart since I was a teenager, so when I heard the event would be held on the southern coast, I knew I wanted to be there. Todd and I booked a VRBO near the water, rented a car, and started practicing my Spanish again.

One of the most important decisions I made for this entire trip felt tiny at the time: what to wear on the flight.

I stood in front of my closet, debating between two long-sleeved shirts, and chose the one that said:

Good Vibes.

It felt playful and intentional. “Bring good energy into a long travel day,” I thought.

I had no idea that I’d be wearing that shirt for several days in a row… or that it would become an anchor in a week that asked everything of my flexibility.

The First Curveball: Missing Bags and a Missing Bike

Our route was ABQ → DFW → Madrid → Málaga.

A malfunctioning seat in premium economy delayed our flight to Madrid by about 90 minutes, which turned our Madrid→Málaga connection into a sprint through the airport. We made the flight.

Our bags and my bike… did not.

By the time we landed in Málaga on Wednesday afternoon, I could see from the AirTags that both the bike and our luggage were still in Madrid. We got in line at the lost luggage desk behind a handful of people; by the time we finished, there were 30–40 more behind us, almost all athletes.

You could feel the nervous energy in that line.

For many people, racing at a World Championship is a once-in-a-lifetime experience. They had poured months—or years—into this moment. And now their bikes, wetsuits, shoes, and nutrition were… somewhere else.

This is where the Good Vibes shirt started to matter.

I kept coming back to it as a physical reminder:

• I can’t control when my bike arrives.

• I can decide who I’m going to be in this line.

• I can still look for silver linings, joke with Todd, and treat the employees like humans instead of obstacles.

Good Vibes didn’t mean pretending everything was fine. It meant staying grounded and resourced enough to deal with what was in front of me—without turning against myself or everyone around me.

That’s nervous system work in real time.

Adapting and Adjusting

Thursday, we walked to Athlete Village to pick up my packet (after a failed attempt the night before when we arrived five minutes after they closed). I still didn’t have a bike or a swimsuit, so instead of riding the course or getting in the ocean, we decided to drive the bike course.

The course had been advertised as nearly 5,800 feet of climbing in 56 miles. It did not disappoint.

We drove up long, sustained climbs, passed through a white village called Ojén, and took in sweeping views of the mountains and coast. It was stunning—and also a very clear reminder that this would be a demanding bike ride.

Meanwhile, I was refreshing the AirTag app constantly.

Late Thursday, my bike finally appeared on the move—by truck—from Madrid to Málaga. We drove all the way to the airport to pick it up, only to watch the AirTag start moving away from us as we walked through the terminal.

My bike was already on the highway… headed toward Marbella.

We turned around, got back in the car, and basically chased my bike down the coast. Eventually the delivery driver texted me, told us where he was, and handed over my bike from a panel truck filled with at least 40 others.

The good news: the bike was safe.
The less good news: my luggage was still missing. It was now Thursday evening. The race was first thing Saturday morning.

I had packed my race kit, sports bra, socks, running shoes, and bike shoes in my carry-on (thank you, past me). But I had no wetsuit, goggles, cap, nutrition… or, you know, regular clothes, shampoo, or anything other than the small toothpaste and toothbrush we got on the overnight flight to Madrid.

So I did the only thing I could do:

• Kept wearing my Good Vibes shirt.

• Made a detailed backup shopping list for race essentials and basic necessities.

• Kept calling the airline.

• Kept checking the AirTags.

• Kept reminding myself: You’ve done this so many times. If the bags arrive, you’re ready. If they don’t, you’ll figure it out.

My coach later joked that I was teaching a live masterclass in resilience. It definitely felt like that.

Reunion, Relief and Readiness

During the Welcome Banquet Thursday night, the AirTags on our luggage went quiet for over three hours. The flight from Madrid to Málaga is about an hour, so this was both promising and unnerving.

Todd voiced the thought we were both dancing around:

“What if they put your bags on a flight back to the US?”

Yikes.

By the end of the evening, we could see that the bags were taking the same route as the bike: a road trip. This time, we were determined not to play chase-the-delivery-truck again.

We got to the Málaga airport at 8 am Friday. The counter opened right as we arrived. After a long process and a walk through security to a back area, they let us into what can only be described as a mountain of luggage and bike cases.

For a minute, my heart sank—how would I ever find my bags in this sea of suitcases?

Then I spotted them. The relief was instant.

We celebrated with our traditional pre-race pancake breakfast in Málaga, then drove the back half of the bike course and finally headed back to Marbella—with bike, bags, and a whole lot of gratitude.

By 1 pm Friday—less than 24 hours before the race—I:

• Had my luggage for the first time.

• Hadn’t done any training since Tuesday besides… walking.

• Was exhausted.

We took a 15-minute nap. I did a short shake-out ride to test the bike. I ran down to the ocean, jumped in without my wetsuit for a 5-minute swim, and felt the cold, clear water around me.

Then it was time to pack my gear bags and turn in my bike and gear for the split transitions (T1 on the beach, T2 in an underground parking garage one block up).

We dropped everything off, headed to our traditional pre-race steak dinner at Angus, and met up with my friend who had flown in from the UK to watch her first big triathlon.

By 8:30 pm Friday night, I finally felt ready to race.

This was not the tidy, calm, perfectly-periodized race week I had imagined. But I was still me. I had my repetitions. I knew what to do once everything was finally in my hands.

Race Day

My wave start wasn’t until 9:03 am, but the official race start was 7:00, so we were up at 5:30 and parked by 6:15. I got my nutrition on my bike, walked through T1 to orient myself (lesson learned from last year in New Zealand when I lost my bike in transition), and soaked in the atmosphere and incredible sunrise.

Over 6,000 athletes from 143 countries were racing across the weekend. The energy around the Athlete Village was electric—languages from all over the world, different ages, different reasons for being there, all converging on this course.

Despite my best intentions, I got to the swim start later than I wanted and ended up seeded more toward the back of my age group than the front. The water was 63°—chilly but manageable—and the swells made sighting tricky. There were moments when all I could see was a wall of water, and I had to time my sighting with the top of a swell.

My stroke felt decent, but I knew I wasn’t in full “race the front” mode. I came out in 35:16. Not terrible, not thrilling, but solid given the chop, my position in the pack, and the week so far (my typical swim time is usually in the 30-32 minute range).

T1 included a sandy run, a hunt for a wetsuit stripper, and an internal check-in with my left hamstring (which had been dealing with high hamstring tendinopathy since August). I felt it, but it wasn’t screaming yet. That would come later.

The Bike: Hills and Wind

The bike course was everything we’d seen in the car and more—tough, beautiful, and windy.

There were long, sustained climbs where I felt strong and prepared (training up to 10,300 ft at home really helped). Near the top of the main climb, I spotted my friend Peggy, a local I’d seen during training, and yelled:

It’s just like home—only with more oxygen. We’re totally prepared for this!

That moment was pure joy.

But the winds at the top were swirling, and the descents were… spicy. With crosswinds, imperfect roads, traffic, and the image of a rider who’d just crashed, I made the choice to stay more conservative than I’d planned—out of my aero position, more on the hoods, with quick access to the brakes.

Could I have pushed harder? Probably. In the moment, it felt like the right call for my safety and my nervous system.

Somewhere along the way, I also ran out of salt pills and, eventually, liquid nutrition. A miscalculation plus losing a couple of pills early on meant that by 2 hours I was out of salt, and by 3 hours I was out of drink mix. I grabbed an electrolyte bottle at the last aid station, but the final descent was so long and technical that there wasn’t much opportunity to drink.

My total ride time was 3:26:53. (45-50 minutes slower than my other two 70.3 bike rides this year!)

By the time I hit T2, I was tired, under-salted, and very ready to get off the bike.

The Run: Sí, Se Puede — One Step at a Time

The run was the biggest question mark of the day.

I’ve worked hard on my running this past year, including qualifying for the Boston Marathon at Eugene. But the hamstring injury in August changed everything. In the weeks leading up to Marbella, I had cut way back on running, hoping the rest would help.

For the first three miles, my leg was okay—noticeable but tolerable, a 3–4 out of 10 on the pain scale. I wasn’t running fast, but if I could hold around 10-minute miles, I would have been thrilled.

Around mile two, a local woman passed me and said, “Yes you can,” then repeated it in Spanish:

“Sí, se puede.”

That phrase became my quiet mantra.

Shortly after mile three, there was a small incline. Right afterward, the pain spiked. I knew if I kept running the same way, I’d be changing my gait and potentially making things worse.

So I started to walk.

Here’s where something shifted.

Instead of making it about failure or disappointment, I asked a different set of questions:

• How do I get myself to the finish line as safely and quickly as possible?

• How can I honor my body and my desire to finish well?

• What options do I have besides “run hard” or “quit”?

I began to experiment. I realized I could walk for 10 strides (or 10 left foot strikes) and then run for 10.

That pattern gave my leg enough of a break to keep going. Sometimes I could run 15–20 strides before walking. The walk interval stayed at 10.

It became almost meditative:

• 10 steps walking.

• 10–20 steps running.

• Repeat.

I stayed in good spirits. I knew I would finish. My leg hurt, but it felt manageable. People were kind and encouraging. I saw Todd, explained what was happening, and told him I was okay.

At the start of the second lap, I noticed that I could run more than 20, then 30 strides, and eventually I realized:

My leg isn’t bothering me in the same way anymore.

So I stopped walking.

I didn’t look at pace. I just kept running, one step at a time, and quietly wondered if I might actually negative split the run. The first lap had been about 1:15; if I could keep this up, maybe I’d finish around 2:30.

Once I was running consistently, I started to pray—my usual list of people and anyone who came to mind. I knew people were praying for me too, and it felt like all of those prayers were weaving together with each stride.

I ran the final mile the fastest of the entire day.

Todd later said my stride did not look like my usual stride, but I came down that finishing stretch on the beach with a huge smile and tears in my eyes.

Not because it was my fastest race.
Because I knew how much it had required of me internally.

Why This Story Matters for All of Us

You may never race a triathlon. You may not care about watts, elevation gain, or wetsuits.

But you know what it’s like when:

• Your carefully laid plans get shaken.

• Your “perfect” week gets hijacked by delays and disruptions.

• Your body doesn’t show up the way you hoped—whether that’s in a race, at the gym, at the dinner table, or in the mirror.

In those moments, we all have choices:

• Will I turn against myself, or will I stay on my own side?

• Will I insist that things go exactly as planned, or will I let myself adapt and adjust?

• Will I measure success only by external numbers, or will I honor the internal experience too?

For me, Marbella was a living example of what I talk about so often with food:

• You don’t need a perfect day to have a meaningful day.

• You don’t need everything to go “right” to be proud of yourself.

• Flexibility and self-trust carry you much farther than rigid rules.

The theme for the race this year was Pasión Andalucía—a nod to the passion and zest for life in this region of Spain.

In the end, that’s what this week became about for me:

• Good Vibes, even in long lines and missing luggage.

• Flexibility on the bike and the run.

• Gratitude, humility, and appreciation, even when the numbers weren’t what I might have imagined.

Because what’s happening on the inside is far more important than what shows up on the results page.

In my next post, I’ll share how this same posture shaped the days after the race—from white villages and flamenco to tiny bakeries and ancient fortresses—and what those moments taught me about rest, joy, and letting life be bigger than any finish line.

This week also reminded me how much rises up inside us long before anything is visible on the outside. Food can be the same way. It becomes the place where stress, emotion, and old patterns quietly collect, often when no one else can see it.

If you’ve been wanting to understand your own challenging moments with food more clearly, the Binge Breakthrough Mini Series is a gentle and helpful place to begin. Click here to start watching.

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