A month before my fortieth birthday, under the influence of inspiration (not to mention half a pitcher of margaritas), I concocted a specific plan-one that offered an obvious starting line, a concrete ending and clearly digestible nuggets of achievement along the way. For the next five months I'd train for a race. Not just any race.

A midlife marathon.

While I convinced my forty-year-old legs they could run more than three miles at a time, I would also write a memoir chronicling tales of gladness and woe. Twenty weeks of running. Twenty weeks of writing. All I needed was a new pair of shoes, a couple of notebooks and a handful of pencils, and by springtime, I'd be ticking two big items off my bucket list: completing a marathon and a book. What could be simpler?

A vignette from the author of Letters for Scarlet and Guest List. Also available when signing up for Julie's newsletter: https: //bit.ly/runningwithpencils