Last week, I turned 51.
And honestly? It felt great.
In the year since turning 50, I can say that I did a couple of extraordinary things.
First: I published my memoir. A real book. With a spine and everything. People have not only bought it, but they’ve reached out to tell me how much it meant to them—that reading my story helped them feel seen, understood, hopeful. When I sat down to write it, I promised myself I’d use my story to help others. I had no formal writing background, no publisher banging on my door, and zero clue whether anyone would care. But I had a feeling. A quiet, persistent belief that someone out there would need it. And the messages I’ve received this year prove that they did.
So if publishing a book was the only extraordinary thing I did in my 50th year? That would’ve been enough.
But then, somehow, I ended up in Australia.
Thanks to Team iFIT, I got the chance to run the Sydney Marathon. That entire experience still feels surreal. Recording myself for the contest in the first place was wildly out of my comfort zone. But I did it. I hit record. I told my story. And someone watched it and said: Yes. Her.
That trip? That race? That feeling of running across the finish line of a marathon on the other side of the world, healthy and happy and completely alive? It was magic. The time on the clock did not matter, it was pure magic.
So when I turned 51 last Tuesday, I made a vow: I want to do something extraordinary every year. One extraordinary thing. Every year, for the rest of my life.
No pressure, right?
No idea what I can accomplish before next year at this time. But I will try. There is a chance that I may have already laid the groundwork for this year’s extraordinary thing. Last week, I entered the Berlin Marathon lottery for 2025. It’s notoriously hard to get in. The odds are not in my favor. But hey—neither were the odds when I sent that iFIT video. So I entered. Results come out at the end of November. I’m not holding my breath, but I am crossing my fingers.
And yesterday, while watching the Chicago Marathon broadcast, I saw a segment about Team Abbott—how they were offering major marathon entries to runners with compelling health journeys. The criteria? People who’ve faced major health challenges but didn’t let those define them.
Hello, it’s me!!
So I sat down and wrote what I thought was a beautiful summary of my story. And when I went to paste it in—
RED ERROR: You have exceeded the 500 character limit.
Excuse me?? 500 characters? How will I distill my story into 500 characters? I don’t even use that few characters in a grocery list.
But I tried. I whittled it down to one tiny but powerful snippet. I submitted it, selected London and Tokyo as my dream races, and now? I wait.
If someone takes the time to read my snippet, perhaps they will Google my name or dig a little deeper. And maybe they’ll find out there’s more to my story. Maybe they’ll see that I’m exactly the kind of runner they’re looking for. What a dream it would be! I mean—London Marathon and Buckingham Palace at the finish line? Are you KIDDING me? Add in the fact that it falls during school vacation? It’s basically written in the stars.
And Tokyo? I’ve always considered the Tokyo Marathon a never-gonna-happen race. Too far. Too complicated. But maybe with Team Abbott? If you’re reading this: I’m ready. Let’s make it happen. Just say the word.
If neither of those pan out, I’ll find another way to do something extraordinary in this coming year. I’ve got dreams of getting my book into the hands of someone with major reach—someone who can amplify it to people who really need it. I have no idea how I’m going to do that. But figuring it out, well that might be this year’s extraordinary thing!
And if none of that works out, I’ll just keep trying to be a fast 51-year-old. Maybe take minutes off my current 5K time and rank as a top age grouper in the region. Which brings me to this past Saturday’s Pumpkin Festival 5K.
This is the same 5K I ran last year as a test of post-surgery fitness. Last year at this race, I ran 23:55 and felt like a total rockstar. This year, I knew I am fitter. The course is long (about 3.25 miles) and includes one long gradual hill and one monstrous one, so it’s not a fast course. But I thought I could maybe be about a minute faster than last year.
Well, I ran almost 2 minutes faster.
I’m proud of that.
Last year, when I ran 23:55 in this race I went on to run 21:55 at the Thanksgiving 5K a little over a month later. So this year, with a faster starting point, who knows? Maybe I’ll dip below 21.
So if I don’t get chosen to run a marathon in 2026? Then I’ll chase 5K speed. Let’s see what a healthy, driven, slightly ridiculous 51-year-old can do.
For now, I’m just staying healthy, staying inspired, and staying hopeful. Here’s to the next year of my life and the next extraordinary thing—whatever it ends up being.
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