I Wrote A Book
Learning to Receive What I Worked For
I wrote a book, y’all. Like, I WROTE A BOOK.
Listen, I know you know this if you’ve been following me for a while. If you haven’t—welcome, hello. I wrote a book about running across America for my mom and multiple sclerosis that you can find here.
But back to the point: I literally wrote a book. Which, by the way, is so fucking cool in a way that I am absolutely not humble or ashamed about. I find this remarkable because, for the longest time, I made an effort to be humble—dare I say meek—about my accomplishments. I didn’t always know how to react when someone found out that I had run across America, built America’s Longest Relay Run, and raised millions of dollars for MS—and they were standing there, right in front of me, floored. I’d get nervous. I could feel my cheeks flush, thinking, I wonder what they’ll expect me to do now—am I supposed to sound trumpets somehow? Or could I just talk about my weird bathroom misadventures like every other runner.
What I’ve found is that saying “thank you” squashes any unnecessary humbleness or social anxiety that would bubble up. I learned this from Montel Williams, actually, when he gently scolded me like a child years back at a news station in Denver.
“Don’t do that, Ashley,” he said, stopping abruptly in the hallway as we walked back to the green room after being interviewed on stage. “I just gave you a compliment, and it’s insulting to me—and to the fact that I want to give you a compliment—to deflect it like that. All you have to do is say thank you.”
He was right. No one had ever called me out like that before. Deflecting a compliment doesn’t make you look humble. It sends the gift back to the sender, unreceived. I’ve learned over the years to say thank you and to be proud of my achievements. It helps me know what I am worth. I worked for it, after all.
So when I say that I wrote a book, I am in awe—deeply grateful and proud that The Long Run Home is in print, in real life, in my hands and in the hands of readers. I open it up and smell its pages. When I read it—as I do often, flipping the spine open to any odd page—I cry.
I wrote this—this story that captures some of the most important chapters of my life and, from the messages and reviews I receive daily, it is a story that resonates far beyond my own experience. It also deeply honors what my family went through—especially my father, the unsung hero of it all.
Publishing The Long Run Home was an eight-year journey. Holding it in my hands now, I read its pages and laugh and cry all over again. I’m touched by the messages from those of you who are laughing and crying right alongside me. Despite my early affection for hyper-independence, sharing this with you has been an honor of a lifetime and is the whole point. All along, we were meant to do this together.
If you’ve read the book and feel inclined, your words—shared with me, in an online review, and within your community—help carry this story forward in ways I could never do alone.
Thank you so much for being here — and thank you for being my family.
CONGRATS!!!