Category: running

  • February 2026

    It has been a long time since I wrote here. Life was going pretty great, there was not much to report on. Until this month. So here’s the update.

    February 2026 started with hope.

    I had quietly gotten myself back into pretty good shape. Not 36-year-old PR shape (let’s not get delusional), but strong-for-50 shape. I was genuinely excited to see what I could do in the 50–54 age group at the USATF New England 4 Mile Championship on Super Bowl Sunday, February 8th.

    I was genuinely excited for the SuperSuperbowlBowl weekend. We were wearing our Patriots gear at school on Friday, February 6th. It was a good day.

    And then… I skipped.

    Yes. Skipped.

    That Friday, I was at school in a good mood. Too good of a mood, apparently. My next class — a sweet group of second graders — was lined up in the hallway. For reasons I cannot defend, I decided to skip across my classroom to greet them.

    POP.

    I felt it.
    I heard it.

    My left calf. Gastrocnemius.

    It felt like someone snapped a window shade violently upward inside my leg. I couldn’t stand. I couldn’t walk. The pain was immediate and blinding.

    But the second graders were coming in.

    So I smiled.

    “Mrs. Robie is in a little bit of pain right now, so you’re going to need to be extra independent today, okay?”

    Lie.

    I was in a lot bit of pain.

    Ten minutes later, the paraprofessional walked in and found me in tears in my chair. The nurse came. I couldn’t stand. I left school in a wheelchair — which is not how I pictured the final 48 hours before a championship race going.

    Urgent care confirmed it: torn calf muscle.

    UGH. I had a race in two days. I was so upset. However, one unexpectedly beautiful moment happened at urgent care.

    My blood pressure read 118/78. I really do not take my blood pressure anymore. I do not have a need since the successful adrenalectomy. It has been a while since I was curious enough to take a reading. But there I was — albeit injured — with perfect, medication-free blood pressure.

    That number felt like a quiet victory.

    And then, because the universe sometimes throws you a bone, a winter storm rolled in and postponed that 4 mile Championship race. Panic lifted. I didn’t have to miss it. It simply wasn’t happening.

    Silver lining.

    The knee-scooter at school on “Team USA” day.

    Crutches destroyed my armpits, so I upgraded to a knee scooter and went about life like a one-legged pirate. Brooke had a dance competition that weekend. I hobbled around on one leg feeling bad for myself, desperately wanting to run but couldn’t. But I kept telling myself:

    You’ve been through worse.

    At that time, a simple calf injury was taking me out, but I knew eventually I would be able to start running again. I had no idea what was coming next.

    (more…)

  • Chomping at the bit two years after Adrenalectomy

    I don’t want to jinx it, but I have to say it: I feel amazing right now. Like unbelievably good. It’s been just about 25 months since my adrenalectomy, and though I hesitate to speak too soon, it finally feels like my remaining adrenal gland has caught up. And while running? It’s the best I have felt post-surgery.

    (more…)

  • Birthday reflection at 51: Almost 2 extraordinary years after adrenal gland surgery.

    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.

    (more…)

  • Embracing Health: My Journey Post-Sydney Marathon

    Two weeks ago, I ran the TCS Sydney Marathon with a smile on my face, feeling strong, happy, and grateful. That race was a celebration—of health, of resilience, of joy. And for the past two weeks, I’ve felt incredible.

    Nothing hurts. My energy is high. My runs feel smooth, maybe even effortless at times. I don’t know if it’s the cumulative effect of training all summer or if I’m still riding a post-marathon high, but I feel like I’m floating.

    And it has me thinking: what’s next?

    (more…)

  • Running the Sydney Marathon with Team iFIT

    On Sunday August 31st, I crossed the finish line of the Sydney Marathon in Australia. With a spring in my step and a smile, wearing my Team iFIT singlet.

    It still doesn’t feel real.

    When I submitted my video to the iFIT contest months ago, I was hesitant. Vulnerable. Unsure. I recorded it. I posted it publicly on Facebook. That alone felt like a huge step out of my comfort zone. But someone watched that video. Someone at iFIT heard my story—my long journey through misdiagnosis, adrenal surgery, rebuilding my health and my life—and decided I deserved this.

    And suddenly, I was heading to Australia.

    (more…)

  • Today is the day!

    Today is the day. I’m leaving for Australia.

    I’m headed to Australia to run the Sydney Marathon with Team iFIT! My hope? That I enjoy every single step.

    I truly believe I did everything I could this summer to prepare my body to go the distance—given the short amount of time I had. I didn’t train for this race as if I were going to chase a fast time. My goal was to train just enough to give myself a chance to finish 26.2 miles feeling strong, steady, and happy. I want to run happily across the finish line, and that’s been the goal all summer long!

    My long runs were all about time on my feet, not pace. I didn’t stress about hitting splits the way I once did, back when I could knock out 20-22 mile training runs at 7:30 pace and crush long, grueling workouts week after week.

    This summer, I focused on increasing the length of time on my feet regardless of pace. There were 5 super long runs in July and August.

    • July 3 – 2 hours, 45 minutes
    • July 6 – 2 hours, 55 minutes
    • July 16 – 3 hours, 12 minutes
    • July 26 – 2 hours, 54 minutes
    • August 10 – 3 hours, 8 minutes

    None of these were “fast” runs. But every one of them helped train my body to endure. I’ve tapered these past few weeks and now, here we go. I’m as ready as I can be.

    My plan is to keep things controlled on race day. I want to run with a smile, soak in the views, and maybe even carry my phone to take a few pictures along the way. This marathon will be a completely different experience for me—and I’m embracing that. I feel like I deserve to have a great run through a beautiful city, in a country I’ve never been to, on the other side of the world.

    Realistically, I’m probably in shape to run somewhere between 3:40–3:45, but I’m planning to line up with the 4:00 pace group. That should help me hold back early, run happy, and have the kind of day I’ve envisioned since finding out I was selected for Team iFIT.

    Back at home, my coworkers and students are kicking off the first week of school. I’m so lucky—my classroom is in great hands. The sub covering for me is a retired second grade teacher who knows the school, the staff, and exactly how chaotic the first week can be. She came in yesterday and went over everything with me. I’m not worried at all.

    At our back-to-school staff meeting, I took a moment to let everyone know what was happening. Those close to me already knew—I’ve been open about my health journey, the surgeries, the recovery, and now this. I told them about the iFIT contest, how I entered with zero expectations… and then how I found out I’d been selected. The response? So supportive. So kind. My coworkers were genuinely happy for me. A bunch of them came up afterward with big “Congratulations!”—and more than a few told me to not worry about a thing at school. That meant a lot.

    So here I go.

    Sydney, Australia… I’m on my way.

  • I’m Going to Sydney

    Eleven weeks from now, I’ll be running the Sydney Marathon. In Australia. EEK!

    Let me back up.

    A few weeks ago, I came across a contest hosted by iFIT. They were selecting 10 people to receive an entry to the Sydney Marathon with Team iFIT on August 31. The post said: “Tell us why you deserve to run with Team iFIT. What does this opportunity mean to you?” I sat with that for a while.

    Because I had a lot to say.

    (more…)

  • A 5K Time Trial and a Surprise Win in Lowell

    I wanted to run a 5K this past weekend to check in and see if I’ve improved at all since the 15K I ran at the beginning of April and the weekly track workouts I’ve committed to since then. I didn’t want a big race or a big scene. I just wanted a good old-fashioned road race—something simple, low-key, and honest.

    Easier said than done. How does a person even find a road race calendar in New England these days?

    Read more: A 5K Time Trial and a Surprise Win in Lowell

    I miss coolrunning.com—remember that site? All the local races in New England, organized by weekend, one click and BAM, you could find exactly what you were looking for. That site was gold. I don’t even know when it disappeared, but man, I feel a little lost without it.

    Millennium Running has a solid calendar of events, but most of them are in New Hampshire—and while they’re incredibly well-managed, most of their courses feel like they’re uphill both ways. Plus, I wasn’t looking for a race where I might run into familiar faces. I just wanted something under the radar, no pressure, no comparisons—just me and the road.

    So I googled “5K races in Massachusetts” and found Mickey’s Run in Lowell. Perfect. It supported Team Mickey Ward Charities (awesome), and Lowell? Always yes. My heart will always belong to that city.

    I headed down to the Blue Shamrock in the morning to get my bib number for the 11:00 start. I went inside to use the restroom and boom—college memories hit me hard. Nights of dancing, laughter, and yes, more than a few beers in those downtown bars. It brought me back to a different version of myself—fast legs, wild nights, and endless energy.

    These days I am so different.

    I’ve been working to get faster again. Tryig to get in some speed workouts once a week. Controlled efforts. Smart goals. I know I’m 50 now. I know I’ll never run like I used to. And that’s okay. I’m learning to be realistic, to set goals that challenge me but don’t break me. This journey really started after my adrenal surgery at the end of 2023, and it feels like I’m finally gaining momentum.

    Heading into the day, I would’ve been happy with anything under 21:55—that was my time from November’s 5K when I was still just coming back.

    When the race started, I ran just behind the pack up front and quickly found myself passing another woman who looked strong. That move had me questioning myself for the rest of the race—waiting for her to come back past me.

    I didn’t check my watch at all. I just ran by feel.

    The course took us down by the riverwalk behind the dorms (more memories), then up to the University Ave bridge. That climb from the river up and over the bridge was tough for me. I slowed a lot. The little hairpin turns getting there didn’t help either—agility isn’t exactly my strength these days. I could feel that I slowed a lot in mile two.

    But I pushed. I kept pushing.

    We crossed the bridge and headed down VFW Highway, past the UMass Lowell North Campus that shaped so much of who I am. I wasn’t sure where the finish line was, and I caught myself holding back a bit—just in case we still had a long way to go. We crossed the Aiken Street bridge and I saw the cone where we needed to take a right back down to the riverwalk. Nice. We must me getting closer.

    Then, it was there. The finish line.
    I crossed it, and someone told me I was the first female finisher.

    What?

    That was unexpected.

    My official time was 21:22, and the course was just shy of 3.1 miles. So I’m guessing my actual 5K time would’ve been around 21:35-21:40. Still? Faster than November. A clear sign that things are heading in the right direction.

    I looked at my watch to see my splits and saw my first mile was 6:37. Yep—slowed down a lot after that. But I’m not mad about it. I ran strong. I ran with intention. And I gave myself exactly the time trial I needed.

    There’s a 1-mile USATF Grand Prix race in July, and I’ll keep working on my speed for that. One workout at a time, one week at a time, one effort at a time.

    For me right now, hings are moving in the right direction!

  • Back on the line.

    April 5th marked something big: my first Grand Prix race back with Whirlaway after more than ten years away. To be honest, I wasn’t just showing up to a 15K—I was stepping back into a world that had once felt like home, but now felt both familiar and foreign. The race atmosphere at a GP event hits differently, and I’d forgotten just how much. The buzz, the team, the old faces, the fast legs—it brought back a flood of emotions.

    I had a plan for this day. After everything—surgeries, setbacks, and slow rebuilds—I wasn’t there to prove anything. I just wanted to run smart: go out slow, find a rhythm, and finish strong. Nothing fancy. I even tucked myself back in the middle of the pack at the start to make sure I stuck to that strategy.

    (more…)

  • The start of something new

    First, thank you—whether you found this page because you’ve read Misdiagnosed for Miles, you’re curious about my journey, or you just stumbled across it—I’m so glad you’re here.

    This blog is an extension of the story I told in my book, and as I sit here reflecting, I can’t believe it’s been nearly a year and a half since my successful adrenalectomy—the second of two major surgeries that defined my 2023.

    If you haven’t read the book, here’s the short version: I spent over 17 years battling brutal symptoms—chronic headaches, crisis-level high blood pressure, heart palpitations, extreme edema (among other issues)—and no one could figure out why. I saw countless doctors over the years, and while some ran tests and genuinely tried to help, they were focused on the wrong things. I was misdiagnosed (or brushed off in some cases) over and over again.

    In 2023, I was finally diagnosed with primary hyperaldosteronism, a rare condition caused by an adrenal tumor that throws your entire system out of whack. I had surgery to remove the tumor in October—and everything changed.

    (more…)