On Marathons, Memoirs, and Muscling Through

When my life crumbled, marathons and memoir coaching saved me.

Nov 06, 2023

Just before my life fell apart in 2016, I was a paid, weekly freelance opinion columnist for the Chicago Tribune.

Back then, the pieces I wrote and submitted to my editors felt like manageable, enjoyable sprints to a weekly publishing finish line. Aside from the word count, I had complete autonomy over what I wrote about. Everything in my life back then felt like potential copy for my columns. The pieces I submitted — for better or worse — were rarely edited.

Such little oversight or feedback from editors left me vacillating between feelings of freedom and fear. Stretching my journalistic muscles, I wrote story after story, trying to reach readers and strike authentic chords — all while discovering how to navigate personal boundaries (mine as well as others’) while digging into sensitive subjects.

And, though mistakes were made and relationships and egos (including mine) were occasionally bruised, I loved that I was learning new skills and connecting deeply with other human beings on meaningful, timely topics.

Sidelined

But then, in the autumn of 2016, I stepped off the writing course completely, sidelining myself to navigate three critical issues: a loved one’s illness; a divorce; and my subsequent depression.

One year later, in 2017, I was slowly recovering from the aforementioned matters. Stepping back into writing, I signed my first book deal and tried hard to find my footing. But then, my sister’s sudden death in early 2018 sent me back into a deep freeze. The ice running through my veins might as well have been an acronym for

“I Can’t Empathize with anyone or anything.”
"I Can’t Envision a future anymore.”
"I Can’t Escape this much pain.”
"I Can’t Eat anything.”
and
"I Can’t Even.”

frosted glass — Photo of ice crystals on glass by Vvs Chang on Unsplash

The year 2018 remains a frigid blur. Though I’d been emotionally leveled by a divorce I hadn’t seen coming, the pain of losing a sibling reframed that perspective entirely. Ask anyone who’s been through both and they’ll likely tell you that sudden loss makes divorce look even more like the carnival sideshow it already is.

In the immediate months after my sister’s death, my writing was almost exclusively limited to a) memorials about her, b) emails to our friends, and c) pleading requests to my co-author for more time to finish my chapters.

The grip of grief

If there’s anything even remotely positive that comes from the loss of a loved one, it’s that, even as the pain and agony consumes us, the outside world keeps spinning as we stop to narrow our focus, devouring photos and memories and connections that we rarely consider on a day-to-day basis.

We pour over albums and old emails. We dig out relics, like handwritten cards and hand-me-downs and white elephant gifts exchanged at Christmases long ago. We listen — then relisten, and relisten again — to voicemails saved in our archives.

We watch home movies. We sob on others’ shoulders. We cry ourselves to sleep. We rage at the universe… and at ourselves… and at others. We force ourselves to eat. We try to remember…and to forget. We replay the maddening loop of “before” and “after”.

We feel jealous of those who have no idea what it’s like to be in our sad club, and we connect — on a cellular level — with those who know loss. We ache. We reminisce. And then, we find ourselves feeling guilty when, on a random Tuesday, we realize it’s the first time we haven’t thought of our loved one in over 24 hours.

A slow thaw

As 2018 evolved, time tamped down the rawest edges of my grief. As the cold, midwest winter thawed, I made myself take walks — which then turned into an out-of-body, out-of-nowhere declaration that I’d like to train for the Chicago Marathon.

I’d attempted to run that marathon once, 17 years prior, but I’d stepped off that course in shame, just past the halfway mark, unable to muscle through. But in 2019, I decided I’d walk instead of run. This time, no matter how long it might take me, I was determined to “get back” — whatever the hell “getting back” looked like.

With loving support from friends and family, I crossed my first marathon finish line in 2019. I carried my sister’s memory every step of the way, smiling and weeping as I held my finisher’s medal, wishing I could have shared it with her. Yet another experience to remind me I’ll have to finish the rest of my life without her in it.

Christine Wolf in a red track suit with tears in her eyes holding her finishers' medal at the end of the 2019 Chicago Marathon — At the finish line of the 2019 Chicago Marathon

After that marathon finish, I soon turned to my long-neglected website, hoping to update its offerings and figure out my next professional steps. Aside from my newspaper writing, blog posts, and a still-unpublished manuscript of a children’s novel, I didn’t have many accomplishments to “show”.

And so, on my CONTACT ME page, I offered to connect eager writers to professionals in the areas I didn’t have any skills…like scriptwriting, speechwriting, content writing, and memoir writing. I figured that if I didn’t know how to help someone, I’d find the people who could.

And, a funny thing happens when you put yourself out there. I started hearing from people every week:

“Do you have time for a quick call? I have a story idea, and I wonder if it’s worth turning into a book.”

“Can you take a look at my first chapter? It’s rough, but I need some perspective.”

“Are you available to help me find a literary agent?”

“How does the publishing industry even work these days?”

“Would you be willing to give me your honest opinion on this [essay] [chapter] [manuscript]?”

Mini sprints

For every inquiry I received, I did some homework, I Googled, I took classes, I read books, I watched webinars, I interviewed industry experts, and I studied craft. I had so much to learn (and often felt incredibly inept), but I kept treating each question like its own little sprint.

Just like training for a marathon, those little training sessions helped to build my stamina and confidence. This is when I began to wonder if I could *ever* make a living by advising fellow writers.

Still, I constantly fought back imposter syndrome, worried that clients would ask for credentials and question my prior experience. Who did I think I was?

Increasingly, I realized more and more that what they really wanted was an honest take on their work and actionable suggestions on how to make it better. I knew I could do that. I loved the idea of doing that.

Knocked back

But then, more health issues dragged me back to the sidelines. A ruptured large intestine landed me in the hospital for 10 days, followed by surgery to remove a section of my colon. I couldn’t help but wonder:
Why?
What more?
How can I make this roller coaster stop?

Recovering from surgery was nothing like recovering from divorce or the sudden loss of a sibling, although all three of these things were deeply disorienting and isolating. After my operation, I spent many nights curled up in a blanket, contemplating my still-very-uncertain future, trying to adjust to so many “new normals” all at once.

Then, in March 2020, less than one month after surgery, there was still snow on the ground when the pandemic locked down most of the world. It was then, as my fellow humans and their activities ALSO iced to a halt, that I finally began to feel less alone.

Since 2016 I’d been existing in a perpetual state of suspended reality, wondering if this was really my life. For years, I’d questioned if things would ever go back to the way they were, and if I was going to survive. Now, here we ALL were as a society, facing lots of the same existential questions. I wasn’t happy the pandemic arrived, but I had a moment of thinking, Well…maybe others will now understand the mindset I’ve been managing for the past three years….

In it together

In the earliest days of the pandemic, I’d visit my grocery store and witness others wearing that same, shell-shocked, zombie-like expression I used to have when my life initially crumbled.

I recognized the wide eyes…the averted gazes…the avoidance of humanity…the quick and efficient maneuvers in and out of public spaces. Though the circumstances were vastly different, the struggle felt eerily familiar. None of us had seen this coming. This wasn’t what we envisioned for our lives. We didn’t have a game plan. We didn’t feel in control. We were, for the most part, navigating an out-of-control situation, and we essentially felt we were on our own.

blue and white labeled box — Photo by John Cameron on Unsplash

The actual thaw

It was during the pandemic that I finally began to experience my own personal “thaw” after having been through so much heartache. During lockdown that I had time to stop, think, process, and, most importantly, accept.

I think those all those kinds of things were happening for a great many of us. I know this because I began to hear from people every few days, asking for help with their life stories. I think they finally had time to face the issues and topics and feelings and secrets they’d sidelined long ago, then Google for people to help them process their thoughts.

During the pandemic, there was only so much TV one could watch. There were only so many Zoom calls, so much remote work, so many virtual happy hours, so many naps and online yoga classes one could take before looking in the mirror and facing the truth. And then, there was time to reflect on that truth, to find meaning in it, and to realize that others might benefit from lessons learned. I’d constantly hear:

“If I can help one person feel less alone, it’ll be worth telling my story…”

and

“If there’s anyone else who knows this journey, I’d love to help them see they’re in good company…”

and

“What I went through is now happening to others. I don’t know how to reach those people now, but when I was in their shoes, I’d have loved a book…”

Back on the course

And so, I stepped back onto the writing course with a whole new outlook and a whole new set of experiences and muscles. I felt like I had more empathy that I knew what to do with. Just like my days of being a weekly opinion columnist, I didn’t have anyone telling me what I was supposed to do. I had no guideposts or parameters or benchmarks. I had no systems to follow, no feedback from higher-ups. I had my clients and my gut (at least, what was left of it). That’s it.

My first writing coaching client was in 2019, just a few weeks before the pandemic locked us down. She found me through a Google search, which led her to my website. She was a psychologist who needed developmental editing help on a chapter she was writing for a professional anthology. If you’d have asked me in 2016 if I’d known how to form an LLC and then invoice someone for my writing coaching services on their book, I’d have laughed. But it happened. Since then, the clients have kept on coming.

I’m often exhausted to the bone, and I’m deeply grateful every day.

How did I get so lucky to do this work?

a woman reading a book — Photo by Giorgio Trovato on Unsplash

An important time for women in publishing

An April 2023 article by Greg Rosalsky — titled “Women now dominate the book business. Why there and not other creative industries?” — speaks to why my timing of entering the publishing world has been particularly fortuitous.

Rosalsky points to a new study by Joel Waldfogel, whose “best guess for why women have seen so much progress in book publishing in the US, as opposed to other creative domains, has to do with the reality that the process of book-writing is typically a solo endeavor, in which the author has more power to choose when and how to do the work.”

Lord knows I appreciate (and have learned how to do) “the solo thing”. When I think back now to how lost and lonely I felt when my marriage ended, I remember how paralyzed I was with humiliation, fear, and uncertainty. This wasn’t what I signed up for. This isn’t how things are supposed to play out. I’d envisioned my life looking so much differently than this. And yet, all I can say now is, Thank God. Thank God. Thank God.

That period in my life sidelined me, as have several others. I’d never wish any of them upon anyone. Each one, though, has made me stronger, clearer, more empathetic, and deeply grateful for the life I now have.

Since I crossed that marathon finish line in 2019, I’ve participated in four more marathons and crossed the finish line two more times. Each time I’ve raced, I’ve been lucky to have loved ones cheering me on. Why had I ever let myself believe that being on the sidelines was a bad thing?

The job I do today, coaching writers, is essentially cheering from the sidelines. I don’t ghostwrite for these clients. I don’t do the heavy lifting for them. I encourage, motivate, validate, offer accountability, and help them feel less alone when the work feels especially hard. My job is all about guiding writers to the publishing finish line.

In days past, I felt so guilty about sidelining myself during hard times; today, I see the sideline as my professional sweet spot.

selective focus photography of woman shouting on road — Photo by zoe lin on Unsplash

Muscling through

In addition to writing books and running a writing and publishing consultancy, I get to work from home, set my own hours, and avoid paying for an office. I also wash my own floors, clean my own toilets, shop for my own groceries, pay my own bills (and my own health insurance). I outsource minor tasks to my accountant and other freelancers, but this — my little homegrown publishing empire — is something I nurture and protect every damn day.

My clients are like family to me. And the work? I’m proud of what my clients and I continue to accomplish together. Being a memoir coach gives meaning to my life. I find it interesting and fulfilling and challenging and rewarding. I tell my clients: “If you win, I win, we all win.”

Launching my own memoir coaching business has been a marathon in the making, and at 55 years old, I’m just at the beginning of the journey. Yes, I’ve been through some hard times, but as I’ve learned from every single one of my clients, we ALL go through something. It’s what we do WITH that hardship that defines us and keeps us going.

There’s no doubt I’ll have more hard times in the future. That’s not pessimism; that’s being realistic, honest, and prepared. And, when hard times fall — particularly the ones I don’t expect — I’ll try to remind myself that life’s a marathon, and that there’ll always be a need for solid stories about muscling through.

Writers' Haven by Christine Wolf

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