Life is Lifing…

“But life is lifing and pressure is pressuring me…”

When I heard that line on Hilary Duff’s new album, I chuckled to myself. Because yes. Exactly.

Since I wrote my last blog post, not much running has happened. But a whole lot of life has.

Our program manager’s day at work. My dad’s knee surgery. A new Hilary Duff album that I wasn’t expecting to love, but before I knew it, I was listening to it on repeat, buying tickets to her upcoming tour, and ordering Y2K outfits off Poshmark. And a plot twist with my running goals that I definitely wasn’t expecting.

It’s Not Goodbye… It’s See You Later. Or Something Like That.

A little over a month ago, as I was about to leave work, my manager asked if I had a second. We stepped into my office and she closed the door. “You know I love you, right?”

My ADHD brain immediately prepared for gentle criticism. That’s usually where it goes. But that’s not what came next. Instead she said:

“I’m leaving. And I recommended you for my position.”

To say I was surprised is a gross understatement. My mind was immediately flooded with emotion, thoughts and questions. “Our program exists because of her.” “She fought for me to come back.” “I did say that maybe someday I was going to take over her job. But someday was supposed to mean a decade from now. After she retired. Not now. I’m not ready. I don’t think I even want that responsibility.” “If I don’t step up, who will? What happens to this place without her?”

I’ve been through change like this before, more than once. The hard experiences always push to the forefront of my mind. But after a few days to digest it all, I remembered something important: I once thought I’d never find a job that made me as happy as this one, and then I did. I once thought I’d never find a boss who supported me the way she did, and then I did.

So while change scares me, experience reminds me: I have survived this before. I have found good again before. It doesn’t make saying “see you later” easier. And honestly, it still hasn’t fully set in. It just feels like she’s on vacation.

It Felt Far Away… Until It Wasn’t.

Part of why it doesn’t feel real yet might be because during the last weeks before she left, I was distracted with something else: my dad’s surgery.

When my dad told me months ago that he was planning to have total knee replacement surgery, I felt a similar wave of emotions to the one I felt sitting in my office that afternoon. I knew his quality of life had been declining. At the same time, I knew this surgery was his best chance at getting back to the things he loves: golfing, bowling, and going on adventures with his family.

That didn’t make it any less scary, especially when it’s your almost 85-year-old dad going under anesthesia. It felt so far away when he first mentioned it. And then suddenly, it was surgery week.

I wasn’t at work for my manager’s last few days because I was with my dad at the hospital. The surgery went well, and day by day, he’s getting stronger, even if he doesn’t always believe it himself. He’s been living with us while he’s recovering, and it has been an adjustment. You don’t realize how set your routines are until something like that disrupts them.

This Wasn’t the Plan. Or Maybe It Was.

With all of this going on, it’s not surprising that working out and running took the back burner. I had already been in a slump before any of this even happened. Maybe subconsciously, I knew that I was headed into a challenging season of my life, and my mind and body knew a slowdown was what I really needed. Since I shared my race recaps a few weeks ago, I have logged exactly zero miles.

So when I found myself creating a group chat with two of my running friends called “Are we stupid enough to do a 50k?” I genuinely wasn’t sure if it was real life or a fever dream.

I checked. The group chat is real. The training plan spreadsheet I made also exists. How did I get here? Wasn’t I just saying I wasn’t sure I wanted to do long-distance races again? Maybe not even half marathons?

Running a 50k isn’t a new ADHD hyperfocus. After running a few marathons, the idea of a 50K had always lingered in the background. What’s another five miles, right?

Most 50Ks are trail races, and until recently, I wasn’t really a trail runner. My first trail half-marathon was hard enough that I nearly wrote off distance running altogether. I like trail running a lot, but I just prefer shorter distances. After running my 7th marathon in 2023, I’ve tried training for another marathon a few times and eventually given up. In 2025, I had more DNS races than ever before. It was disheartening. It made me question whether I even wanted to train seriously again.

So how did: “I have races planned for the first four months of the year” turn into “Maybe I should run one every month” turn into “Let’s make October a 50K”?

I don’t fully know. But I do know this: I love the trail running community. The race company for the 50k I’m considering is one I trust. The course looks like fun, or at least as much fun as 31 miles can be. I imagine fall colors and crisp air. And I wouldn’t be doing it alone.

It doesn’t feel like proving something. It feels… exciting.

And after a season of feeling like I’ve been winging it — at work, at home, in training — having something steady to build toward feels grounding.

So yes, life has been lifing, and pressure is pressuring. But instead of forcing my way through it, I rested. I adjusted. I let things unfold. And now I feel ready to build again.

Maybe that looks like consistent workouts. Maybe it looks like 31 miles through the woods this fall. Maybe it just looks like trusting myself through changed plans.

Either way, I’m still here. And apparently, so is the 50K group chat.