I’m a therapist and a (slow) runner. I’m training for two ultramarathons in 2026—one in march, and one in august. This is primarily a space to process the journey of putting my body through something I only ever thought the elites were capable of

I’m also twice-divorced, solo polyam, a small business owner, a millennial cat mom, and aspiring homeowner in the beautiful midwestern state of Michigan, by way of Indiana, by way of Minnesota.

I’m not super skinny, I don’t have a ton of money, and I’ve struggled with emotional eating and alcohol use in the past. I get bored and restless easily, and my attention is easily pulled in multiple directions. I’m not the perfect example of running, nor do I aim to be. I’m simply an almost-40-year-old woman who is tired of limiting myself to the unimaginative lifestyle of eat, sleep, work, gym, repeat.

I’m writing in this blog not as a way to gain influencer status (gross) or tout products as an affiliate marketer. I’m writing here because writing has been a therapeutic tool for me since I was old enough to hold a pen. And writing, like running, has been more consistent than any friend, lover, job, identity, or home I’ve ever lived in.

Writing and running are, for this therapist, the finest forms of therapy you can find outside of the actual therapy room. Sometimes I absolutely hate it. Sometimes it’s the best thing in the world. More often than not, it’s somewhere in-between. One thing that is always the same, though, is that every step is its own journey, every mile an achievement in its own right. Whether I walk, jog, run, or sprint it, my time on the trail is all therapy.

Join me?