Tips with Marie

Category: personal

  • June felt like a finish line and a starting point all at once.

    I ran my first marathon this month.

    Twenty-six point freaking two miles.

    A distance I once thought only existed in movies and Boston qualifications, and now it’s part of my story. Not just a medal or a Strava entry, but proof of every 5 AM wake-up, every Sunday long run, every time I said “yes” to the uncomfortable.

    But that wasn’t even the most transformational part of my month.

    Earlier in June, I went on a spiritual retreat with my mom. We shared silence. Tears. Laughter. Prayers. It was healing in a way that no gym or run ever could be. Our bond feels deeper. Like we’re finally seeing each other—not just as mother and daughter, but as two women trying to be whole.

    I also started this blog.

    Back in February, I hit “publish” on my first ever blog post.

    What started as a space to talk about running quickly turned into something more—

    a journal, a mission, a reset button.

    I called it Tips with Marie, but in many ways, it’s been a love letter to myself.

    To the woman rebuilding her life.

    To the mom learning how to chase her goals without guilt.

    To anyone out there trying to figure it all out mid-stride.

    I never expected to grow so much, or feel so seen just by writing out my truth. And honestly? I’m just getting started.

    June Was a Wake-Up Call

    This month forced me to confront some hard truths:

    I had been overtraining but underhealing. I was chasing “strong” but avoiding softness. I wanted discipline but forgot to practice grace.

    So I pivoted.

    I joined a new CrossFit gym—not just for the gains, but for the community and a clean slate. I’m learning to find strength without burnout. Progress without punishment.

    The Halfway Check-In: 2025 Goals

    We’re halfway through the year, so let’s rewind to what I set out to do in January.

    Goals I set at the beginning of the year:

    ✅ Run a marathon

    ✅ Get closer to my mom

    ✅ Build my blog/brand

    ✅ Wake up at 5 AM consistently

    ✅ Stay sober

    ✅ Pass my classes

    ⚠️ Heal emotionally

    ⚠️ Get financially free

    ⚠️ Believe I’m enough

    Some boxes are checked. Some are still messy.

    But growth isn’t linear, and I’ve stopped expecting perfection from the woman who’s still becoming.

    What’s Next?

    I’m not chasing a “new me.”

    I’m coming home to her.

    July isn’t about hustling harder. It’s about refining the habits that already work.

    Running to feel alive, not just fast.

    Eating to fuel, not to fix.

    Writing to process, not perform.

    Loving myself without conditions.

    I’ll keep choosing discipline over drama, faith over fear, and purpose over pressure.

    Let’s see where the next six months take us.

    This isn’t the end. It’s the halfway magic.

    Want to reflect with me?

    Here’s a journaling prompt you can use:

    📝 What have you already accomplished this year that you didn’t celebrate enough?

    📝 What part of your January self would be proud of you today?

    📝 What are you ready to release before you step into the next half of 2025?

  • 🏁 Mile 23 Broke Me: How My First Marathon Took Me Apart and Put Me Back Together

    🏁 Mile 23 Broke Me: How My First Marathon Took Me Apart and Put Me Back Together

    By Marie from Tips with Marie

    Let me be clear…

    I did not overthink this. I signed up for a full marathon kind of the way you sign up for a free trial… casually and with zero clue of what’s coming next.

    I didn’t even really look at the course until the week of. That should tell you everything.

    🏃‍♀️ Training? Let’s call it… vibes.

    I joined a local run club and followed whatever schedule they had going on.

    Mondays: 4 miles Tuesdays: Track (when I could keep up) Wednesdays & Fridays: 4 to 6 miles Thursdays: Glorious rest Weekends: Long runs that increased by a mile each week

    I got up to 15 miles, hit a wall, cried a little, backed off, and built back up to 20. Was I ready? Meh. But I knew I was finishing.

    My only real goal: don’t die and maybe sneak in under 5 hours.

    ☀️ Race Day: Energy? Immaculate.

    I woke up on race day like a golden retriever on espresso.

    Happy. Energized. Borderline delusional.

    Pointing up at the Rock ‘n’ Roll arch display

    The first 10 miles? An actual blast.

    I was smiling like I was in a Nike commercial.

    Runner’s high? Baby, I was flying.

    Mile 15–20? Still good. Suspiciously good. Something felt off, but I ignored it because ✨ vibes ✨.

    💥 Mile 23: When Everything Fell Apart

    Mile 20 is where the cracks started. I called my kids. Then my friends. Then my parents. I needed voices that knew my heart.

    At mile 23? Everything hurt. Walking hurt. Running hurt. Stopping hurt.

    And then, the worst pain: my own mind turned against me.

    The self-doubt was so loud. I was mean to myself. Ugly. Cruel.  

    That’s when it hit me:  

    How we talk to ourselves matters. Especially when no one’s watching and everything is on fire

    It felt like a movie.

    I flashed back to the little me. I saw things I had blocked out for years. While still moving forward. My body was done, but something deeper pushed me.

    🏅 The Only Thing That Kept Me Going

    My kids.

    I told them I’d come back with a medal. There was no turning back.

    Every step hurt, but my mantra played on repeat:

    Put in the work. Rest at the end.

    It’s what I tell them before their soccer games. That day, I needed to hear it from them. So I called them again.

    🏁 The Finish Line Felt… Complicated

    I crossed it.

    But I didn’t take pics. I didn’t cry. I didn’t smile.

    I felt numb.

    Instead of joy, I felt like a failure. I thought, “Who do I think I am?”

    And just like that, I stole the moment from myself.

    💤 Aftermath: Grandma Limping + Electrolyte Love

    It took a full week to function again.

    I swore I’d never run another marathon.

    Spoiler alert: I’m already looking for the next race.

    🧠 What the Marathon Gave Me

    It gave me… me. A new me.

    One who understands that the voice in your head can either drown you or carry you.

    One who still has self-doubt, but also a new rule:

    “We don’t stop just because it gets hard.”

    I still sometimes catch myself feeling like I’m failing at life but I’m learning that failure doesn’t define who you are.

    You can always rewrite your story.

    Running stripped me down. And in that rawness, I saw how much I’d been blocking the very things I once prayed for.

    Love. Joy. Peace.

    The marathon didn’t just give me a medal.

    It gave me my power back.

    ✨ Final Thoughts:

    Thinking of running a marathon? Do it.

    Not for the pace. Not for the medal.

    Do it to meet the version of yourself who’s waiting on the other side of pain.

    She’s strong. She’s soft. She puts in the work.

  • Dear 18-Year-Old Me: You Didn’t Fail. You Just Started Differently.

    Dear 18-Year-Old Me: You Didn’t Fail. You Just Started Differently.

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  • Rediscovering Yourself as a Mom: A Personal Journey

    Rediscovering Yourself as a Mom: A Personal Journey

    HAPPY MOTHERS DAY !

    Story time:

    I got pregnant my senior year.

    And just like that, everything shifted.

    I thought my dreams had an expiration date. That my new job title was just “Mom” and my only role was to support my partner and raise my son. My own ambitions? I quietly packed them away, like the college brochures I stopped opening.

    I didn’t know it at the time, but that was the moment I started losing my sense of identity.

    When Guilt Gets Loud

    The thing about being a mom is… no one really tells you how much guilt gets baked into the role. Especially when you start doing something for you.

    When I decided to go back to school, I was proud—but the guilt came creeping in fast.

    Should I really be leaving them this long?

    Am I selfish for wanting more than motherhood?

    It’s this unspoken rule society throws at moms: you’re supposed to give everything, all the time. But no one talks about what happens when there’s nothing left to give to yourself.

    The Chaos (and Comedy) of Doing It All

    Let me paint you a picture:

    I tell my boys every night, “Okay, I’m going to wake up at 5 AM and go run tomorrow!”

    And recently, one of them looked me dead in the face and said,

    “No, you’re not. You sleep in.”

    Called. Out.

    Nothing humbles you like being dragged by your own kids. So guess who got up and actually ran the next morning? Me—because I had to reclaim my mom-cred.

    Despite the chaos (and there’s a lot of it), my kids cheer me on.

    After a workout: “How many miles today, Mom?”

    During their soccer practices: “You got this, brother!” when one of them looks tired.

    They’re learning. They’re watching. And it makes the mess worth it.

    Finding Myself Again

    Motherhood stripped me of a lot—but it also helped me rebuild.

    I didn’t find myself instead of being a mom. I found myself through being one.

    It took time. Therapy. Late-night breakdowns. Early morning runs.

    But now I’m back in school—not for the title or the paycheck, but for the freedom it will bring.

    The freedom to build a life where I can show up for them and myself.

    To be fully present in their lives without feeling like I had to abandon my own.

    This Mother’s Day, I’m Celebrating the Comeback

    I’m not “just” a mom. I’m a student, a runner, a woman rebuilding her life one goal at a time.

    And if you’re a mom reading this feeling like you lost yourself somewhere along the way—I see you. You’re not broken. You’re evolving.

    Motherhood may have shaken your identity, but it can also help you rebuild it stronger.

    Your Turn:

    What part of yourself are you rediscovering? Drop it in the comments—I’d love to hype you up.

    And if you enjoyed this post, buy me a coffee (or send me motivation for my next 5 AM run—I clearly need it)!

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