Julie B. Hughes's Blog

Today is Thanksgiving in the States, and I wanted to take a moment to pause and thank you for being here with me. I can’t thank you enough for reading, sharing, and commenting each Monday and Thursday. We have a great community. May this poem be a gift from me to you. Keep moving and writing.

With gratitude,

Julie

Photo by author: Grateful to spend some time on the AT in Boonsboro, MD, with my children. Text within this block will maintain its original spacing when publishedHappy Thanksgivingrun to write crew—I’m deeply gratefulfor each of youThankful for communityto move and writein every seasona practice held tightResistance will greet usjust about every day,but you show up brave—that’s all I can sayThrough all the highs and lows,when steps feel slow,gratitude’s the fuelthat helps us goWe’re lights across the worldyet one thing’s clearour stories connect us—a gift I hold dear

I invite you to write down one or two sentences of what you’re grateful for.

Upcoming in-person gatherings:

Join us on Thanksgiving morning to move together! We will meet at 9 am at The Canal Landing Park in Fayetteville, NY. Address: 120 Limestone Plaza, Fayetteville, NY 13066. Parking lot available. No fee.

Please share with someone you’re thankful for today.

Share

This weekend at the JFK 50 Mile was unforgettable.

Not only did I have the incredible opportunity to watch the race unfold, but I also had the chance to sign and sell my book, MILES of MEANING: from Doubter to JFK 50 Mile Finisher at the Expo. The energy in the hotel lobby—nervous laughter, last-minute questions, determination on faces—it reminded me exactly why I wrote this book.

Laura and Jennifer were running the JFK 50 for the first time. Laura handed me her copy of MILES of MEANING, and I was happy to sign it, grateful it resonated with her. Then Jennifer told me she placed the book under her pillow at night, hoping the words would stick in her mind. I erupted with laughter. This made my night! It reinforced the sense that MILES of MEANING is more than a book; it’s a shared connection within the running community, encouraging each other to go for it.

It was an honor to see and meet so many military men and women from the Army to the Navy, the Marines, and Special Operations. It was incredible. I met Fred, in the green jacket, who ran it for the first time in 1974! Fifty years of JFK 50 history, and there he stood, grinning like he’d just discovered it yesterday. Danny flew in from Texas. Cameron came from Denver, Colorado, and Maggie and her dad were running the 50 miles together—I could see pride and joy in both of them. My friend Terri drove up to help us at the Expo, and having her support made a difference. She knows how much this all means to me, and sometimes you just need someone there who gets it.

I spoke with another runner and mentioned I dedicated each mile to family and friends touched by cancer. She nodded and said, “My friend just asked me if I was going to dedicate my miles to anyone, and I loved that idea.” I smiled and handed her three index cards I had on hand. “Here, write their names and place the index card in your running vest.” She smiled back, taking them like they already held the names.

Meeting the race director, Mike Spinnler, and his wife, Maria, was a highlight, as was meeting Katie Lowe, the JFK 50 communications director, and Tim, the operations manager. They create something truly special with this race, and you can feel the care in every detail. I wanted to hang with them longer.

My kids and I were thrilled to meet Hans Troyer, the overall male winner. Watching my children’s eyes light up as they stood next to someone who I believe is the next Steve Prefontaine—that’s a lesson no classroom can teach. Paul, a 35-time finisher, sat next to me at his table selling JFK 50 stickers and shared stories that had us all laughing. When his friend Bob came in and sat down, I was laughing all over again. Their stories made the experience even more special, and I kept thinking: this is what running gives us—connection. I could have talked to them all day.

One of my personal highlights was cheering on the runners at different points along the course. At Weverton Cliffs, I watched faces shift from concentration to relief when they spotted their crew support. At the finish, runners were grinning from ear to ear, proud to wear their JFK medals. Congratulations!

Billy and Spice of Cloudsplitter Coffee were so generous with their hospitality, having their coffee at Weverton Cliffs, and the finish was such a great touch. There’s something about good coffee at mile 15 and at the finish that feels like a warm hug when you need it most. I hope their presence at the event becomes a lasting tradition. My children are still raving about their hot chocolate. Brindsley mentioned on the drive home, “It was the best hot chocolate, so creamy.”

This race felt like one big family, and I’m grateful to be part of it. These encounters with fellow runners reminded me that perseverance isn’t just about finishing a race; it’s about facing life’s countless challenges with grit and determination. Every story shared was a testament to the resilience we all carry within, encouraging us to push forward no matter the hurdles.

See you next year!

Today’s writing prompt: If you could dedicate your next challenge (run, project, difficult conversation) to someone, who would it be and why? Write their name on an index card and tell us their story.

You’re invited to write together. See you today at 11 am (EST).

We’ll gather in silent solidarity to work on our creative projects, starting with a writing prompt to warm up. No experience is necessary.

Be part of our creative community! Use the link below to enter our Zoom room, and feel free to invite a friend to write alongside you. Together, we’ll discover our creative voices and find the courage to put our stories on the page.

Let’s write together. Let’s grow together.

Community writing session

Upcoming in-person gatherings:

Join us on Thanksgiving morning to move together! We will meet at 9 am at The Canal Landing Park in Fayetteville, NY. Address: 120 Limestone Plaza, Fayetteville, NY 13066. Parking lot available. No fee.

Reply to this email if you can make it. I’ll plan to bring some yummy pumpkin treats.

Start line of the 2024 JFK 50 Mile. Who’s running in 2026? Let’s GO!

This poem appears in MILES of MEANING: from Doubter to JFK 50 Mile Finisher. For those lining up this Saturday, I’m excited to cheer you on. Go! Go! Go!

Text within this block will maintain its original spacing when publishedLace UpFifty milesbegins in two dayssome think I’m crazyyet I need to say...JFK, the thirty-fifth president had a goal in mindto get Americans movinga belief I stand behind.Fifty milesmay seem extreme originally a callfor the Militarya challenge with impactif only Kennedy could see the oldest ultramarathon in the countryI’m honored to toe the line to see what I can doto run for fifty namesand inspire you.

Upcoming in-person gatherings:

Join us on Thanksgiving morning to move together! We will meet at 9 am at The Canal Landing Park in Fayetteville, NY. Address: 120 Limestone Plaza, Fayetteville, NY 13066. Parking lot available. No fee.

Reply to this email if you can make it. I’ll plan to bring some yummy pumpkin treats.

Our next Move. Write. Connect. 6-session series begins January 21. For more details and to register, click the button below.

Winter Light Series

Online Monday gathering:

Zoom write together is back on Monday, 11/24/25, at 11 am (EST). The link will be posted on Monday. Please join us. :)

A fun photo collage of our community. Thank you for showing up. I’m very grateful to you.

Thank you very much for the restacks , , , , , and .

P.S. if you’re looking for some new Thanksgiving day recipes has you covered on Cook & Tell.

MILES of MEANING is headed to the JFK 50 Mile Race!

Are you worried you haven’t run far enough before your first ultra?

I was. When I signed up for the JFK 50, I thought I’d need several long training runs of 30 to 35 miles. I imagined running 20 miles one day and then 15 miles the next, thinking this would be required for 50 miles. I was wrong. Thanks to coach Joel, I finished 50 miles, despite my longest training run being just 26.2 miles. Instead of 30+ mile sessions, here’s what my typical week looked like:

Monday: Typically a 60- to 75-minute run, plus strength training. Tuesday: 45-minute fitness walk. Wednesday: involved a tempo or fartlek run, along with calf muscle complex strength training.

Thursday: a 60-75 minute run at an easy to aerobic pace. Friday: a rest day.

Saturday: a long run of 120 to 180 minutes, give or take, and Sunday involved an unstructured 45-minute run, followed by calf muscle complex strength training.

This training schedule allowed my body to gradually build endurance and adapt to the demands of ultra-distance running. Two weeks before the JFK 50 Mile, I completed a 3-hour trail run on Saturday, followed by a 60-minute easy run on Sunday. While I won’t share every detail, as this was a program designed for me, I wanted to give you a sense of what it included.

Your training plan can differ from what mine looks like and what others share online. Even though I was aware of this, social media had me second-guessing. I remember seeing another runner sharing her training for the JFK 50 and celebrating one of her 30-mile runs. My immediate thought—Should I be running 30 miles before I toe the line? My coach hadn’t planned that distance. I caught myself before I started questioning his training plans for me. I’m exactly where I need to be.

The old Julie would have planned to run 30 miles or more, thinking I had to achieve that distance several times before attempting to toe the line of a 50-mile race. I’m glad I’ve grown, and I have a coach to help me stay on track.

I’d also read that dwelling on comparison wasn’t just mentally draining; it could affect my recovery, too. So I limited my time on social media. The one message my coach repeated often was, “You can’t cheat the distance.” So I didn’t.

If you find yourself in a similar situation, perhaps what I’ve learned will help you: Your training plan should be tailored to you; comparison is not helpful, and mental discipline is just as important as physical preparation. You have prepared well and are ready.

Trust your plan. Trust your training. Now Go!Go!Go!

Cheering for you as you toe the line for the JFK 50 Mile this Saturday! I’m excited to be at the Expo, signing/selling books, and on race day. If you're there, please stop by my table and say hi.

Thumbs up! See you next Monday.

I will see you back next Monday, 11/24, to write together. I’m unable to host today.

Thank you for being here, and I’ll be back in your inbox on Thursday.

Keep moving and creating,

Julie

Grab your copy of MILES of MEANING: from Doubter to JFK 50 Mile Finisher. Click the button below.

Buy your copy

Learned something new! Text within this block will maintain its original spacing when published The CallCome on, America!break free from your screensleave those worn-out couchesyou know what I meanCommit to adventurefifty miles or just onelace up your sneakersbefore the day is doneBring a trusted friendhelp each other thrivemind, body, and soultruly feel aliveStep outside your comfort zonehear what’s wild and freethe world is waitingwill you come with me?

Who will you meet up with this weekend or next week to move with? Share their name in the comments below.

Upcoming in-person gatherings:

Join us on Thanksgiving morning to move together! We will meet at 9 am at The Canal Landing Park in Fayetteville, NY. Address: 120 Limestone Plaza, Fayetteville, NY 13066. Parking lot available. No fee.

Reply to this email if you can make it. I’ll plan to bring some yummy pumpkin treats.

Our next Move. Write. Connect. 6-session series begins January 21. For more details and to register, click the button below.

Winter Light Series

I won’t be able to host the write session on 11/17. We will meet back up on 11/24 at 11 am (EST) to write together on Zoom.

Thank you so much!

Julie

What I’m listening to: You Can Call Me Al

What I’m reading: Sincerely, Stoneheart

What I’m baking: Superhero Muffins now in a mix! Since it’s very hard to grate any veggies or fruit right now, this came at the best time!

I glanced at my bare feet. Two quarter-sized, fluid-filled blisters stared back at me. Despite applying a generous amount of Aquaphor and wearing moisture-wicking toe socks, blisters still formed.

After running 50 miles, I was certain that my Achilles tendon, recent removal of toenails, or hips would cause me the most trouble in recovery. To my surprise, it was my big toes that kept me up days after the race. My steps were slow and deliberate as I moved around the house.

During the week after the race, I layered more Aquaphor after showers and before bed. I resisted the urge to pop the blisters, determined to prevent infection. I kept the skin hydrated and covered with a Band-Aid. This routine paid off; by the end of that week, my discomfort was minimal, and I found myself walking at my usual pace again. A closer look confirmed the fluid-filled blisters were shrinking. My body was doing its job. I stayed patient.

With my feet gradually healing, I looked ahead to what might come next in my training. My coach had planned out a schedule of fitness walks and rest days for me. Looking at Saturday’s training plan, just a week after the JFK 50 Mile, renewed my motivation.

The schedule was a planned run, not a walk. YIPPEE! It read, three times for 10 minutes at varying paces. YES! I was excited to get back out on the country roads and curious to see how my body would feel after running 50 miles. I was surprised, yet grateful, to discover that I was ready to return. My body responded, and it felt good to lace up my running sneakers again. I couldn’t stop smiling.

I finished a 50 Mile race. I wonder if I could run 100 miles. Aunt Phoebe had no words.

Here we go!

Writing practice time. :) Thank you.

You’re invited to write together. See you today at 11 am (EST).

We’ll gather in silent solidarity to work on our creative projects, starting with a writing prompt to warm up. No experience is necessary.

Be part of our creative community! Use the link below to enter our Zoom room, and feel free to invite a friend to write alongside you. Together, we’ll discover our creative voices and find the courage to put our stories on the page.

Let’s write together. Let’s grow together.

Community writing session

Upcoming in-person gatherings:

Join us on Thanksgiving morning to move together! We will meet at 9 am at The Canal Landing Park in Fayetteville, NY. Address: 120 Limestone Plaza, Fayetteville, NY 13066. Parking lot available. No fee.

Reply to this email if you can make it. I’ll plan to bring some yummy pumpkin treats.

Our next Move. Write. Connect. 6-session series begins January 21. For more details and to register, click the button below.

Winter Light Series

“We have to be braver than we think we can be, because God is constantly calling us to be more than we are….With God, even a rich man can enter the narrow gate to heaven. Earthbound as we are, even we can walk on water.”

—Madeleine L’Engle

Last part of the Morgan Hill Forest Marathon Series. Thank you for being here.

Felicia walked with me to my car. I could feel her concern as I hobbled across the gravel parking lot. I opened the passenger door and slid into the seat to put on a fresh pair of socks. Clean socks always make me feel better after a run. I grabbed a clean pair of sneakers, opening the laces to insert my right foot. I hobbled around the car to the driver’s side. Felicia asked, “Are you going to be okay?”

I nodded. “I think so. I’ll take my time. I’m glad I don’t live that far away.”

“I’ll follow you,” she said.

“Okay, thanks,” I smiled.

I was grateful she didn’t mind making sure I got home safe. The drive was uneventful, and I was thankful that the road took my mind off my throbbing foot. Great job, brain! I was hopeful Jeff and the kids would be home so they could help me into the house. I pulled into the driveway and parked in the garage. Oh, good, Jeff was home. I opened the car door and struggled to stand. The kids came out and helped me. They were my human crutches, Brindsley on one side, Delaney on the other, as I laughed at how ridiculous we looked. My kids were impressed that I finished the race.

Brindsley said, “Mom, you can’t even walk. I can’t believe you finished the race. What guts.”

I laughed. Guts or maybe stupidity. I’ll go with guts.

I couldn’t bear any weight at all, and my concern grew. Did I fracture my foot? This question had never crossed my mind before, but four months ago, I had a DEXA scan to check my bone density, and I learned mine was low—likely due to decreasing estrogen levels, which slow down bone formation. I was grateful I was taking estrogen now to protect my bones, but this question wouldn’t leave me. The kids helped me to the couch to elevate my leg and ice it. In the meantime, I tried to calm my inner turmoil. Give your body time to heal and see how you feel in the morning.

For the rest of the day, I stayed off my foot, iced, did gentle movements, and used compression. I was happy and relieved when I got up the next morning and could stand on my right foot. It hurt and was sore, but I could hobble to the bathroom alone. Victory! I had some stiffness and pain, but standing and walking were good signs. I could already see some improvement; maybe my foot will be okay. I decided to believe this story. I figured if I kept making progress each day, little by little, my body would heal, and I’d be back to running soon.

As each day passed, I could do more movement, slow and short walks (slow is smooth, as my coach would say), and toe movements. I continued with compression, elevation, and ice soaks. I found myself walking with a more heel-to-toe gait and able to place my weight completely on my foot. The swelling was decreasing, and there was no bruising.

After two weeks of steadily increasing my walks and physical activity, I was able to start running again with minimal discomfort. My coach guided me back, helping me progress my ankle and foot load. Looking back, I’m still amazed at how incredible our bodies are at healing. I’m thankful this pain didn’t become an injury.

I used to tell myself I wasn’t a good storyteller. I laugh. My mind was creating a story about a fractured foot—saying I wouldn’t be able to run, that I might need a cast and be on crutches. How will I drive? How will I get around? The story goes on. I noticed and decided to tell myself another story: Your foot will heal. Give your body time to recover. Eat well, prioritize sleep, and keep moving and loading as your coach advises. You’ll be back to running soon and will respect the trail even more because of this.

Do you notice the stories you tell yourself? How do you shift them when they’re not serving you?

It's funny as I type this; my left hand is in a thumb spica splint. I will see next Thursday if I have a scaphoid fracture. I’m staying optimistic.

Have a great Thursday and keep moving,

Julie

Where we left off:

Thank you, Move. Write. Connect. Community

The nausea hit somewhere in the middle miles.

I recalled the chewable Pepto Bismol tablets in my front pocket. If it worsens, I’ll take one or two, no problem.

The gels I’d been relying on, I couldn’t stomach anymore. I had to adapt—switch to foods, focus on hydration, and eat anything appealing to keep going. I recognized my body wasn’t craving sweet but salty. The aid stations had what I needed: potato chips, salt potatoes, and salty chicken broth.

Deep breath.

The middle miles, where the excitement of the start was gone and the finish line was still so far away. Where doubt gets loud again, I needed something to keep me moving and take my focus off my stomach discomfort. I made up a game.

Every woman I passed, I pretended she was number 100. I’d heard the top 100 women get a gold medal, and I had no idea what place I was in. This game—that little story I told myself—it worked. It kept my feet moving when everything in me wanted to stop. There’s number 100, catch her.

I used mantras that I practiced in my training. I prayed. I ran for friends and family touched by cancer—my why, and I held onto it. The mental training I’d done for months was showing up now. My faith was pulling me through. The inner turmoil I could manage. I didn’t let the nausea and fatigue rattle me. I welcomed it. There is nothing wrong here. Somewhere in those middle miles, I found something I didn’t know I had.

When I crossed the finish line, I was in disbelief. I made it.

The race wasn’t just about finishing. It was about the friendships I made along the way, the people who showed up to support me, the community, and you, who carried me when I needed it most. It was about my kids seeing their mom do something hard and not quit. It was about discovering I had a story worth sharing that became a book to inspire others.

We did it.

If you’re standing at the edge of your own big thing right now, wondering if you can do it, here’s what I discovered: The doubt will come, and it might never leave, but you can learn to run with it. What you’ll gain on the other side is much bigger than the goal itself.

Go!Go!Go!

If you want the full story of what happened out there—including what it really took to get to the start line (hint: what happened to my toenails) and the hour I spent in the medical tent after crossing the finish—you can find it in my book, MILES of MEANING: from Doubter to JFK 50 Mile Finisher.

Showing up…Super Stars! Thank you.

You’re invited to write together! See you today at 11 am (EST).

We’ll gather in silent solidarity to work on our creative projects, starting with a writing prompt to warm up. No experience is necessary.

Be part of our creative community! Use the link below to enter our Zoom room, and feel free to invite a friend to write alongside you. Together, we’ll discover our creative voices and find the courage to put our stories on the page.

Let’s write together. Let’s grow together.

Community writing session

I reached the last aid station. A volunteer greeted me and smiled, “You’re almost finished.”

I smiled back, “Thank you. I rolled my ankle pretty good and will be happy to cross the finish.”

She nodded. “I give you all a lot of credit for running these trails. I hike them, and that’s enough. There are so many roots and rocks.”

I laughed. “There sure are. I had no idea.”

I grabbed a handful of potato chips and said, “Thank you,” as I popped one into my mouth. The salty, crunchy chip tasted so good.

She called, “Good luck.”

The last five miles were flat, if my memory is correct. It was the perfect time to pick up the pace, but my ankle pushed back. Please cooperate. I was trying not to get upset. I could really fly now, but pain was holding me back, and then there was a stretch of road covered with giant rocks, and man, that hurt. My ankle and foot rebelled. I sped up as much as I could to get off that section, grimacing with each step. With about three miles remaining, I heard footsteps behind me. Oh, good, another runner is coming. He passed me like I was standing still. I tried to keep up, but my ankle protested.

I’m almost at the finish. I’m almost done. I’ll take care of my foot—ice and rest. I promise. Enjoy the forest. I laughed to myself. It sounded ridiculous given my situation, yet I remembered that most things don’t go as planned—this was good practice. I was grateful my body was still upright and I’d be able to finish. When I left the trail onto the gravel road, a sign with the words “turn right to the finish” appeared before me. That’s the parking lot. The finish is just ahead!

I picked up the pace, hoping to make it under six hours. I felt like I was sprinting—I assure you, I was not. I heard the ring of the cowbell and cheers as I got closer. I pumped my arms and saw the inflatable finish arch. I smiled and finished strong. I ended up running a 5:28:00! Considering my rolled ankle and hard fall during the race, I was thrilled with this time. What could I have run without that ankle roll? What if? I stopped myself from dwelling on the pain of what-ifs. I ran my best, had fun, and finished under 6 hours. Victory.

Once I crossed the finish line, my steps immediately turned into a limp as the pain hit. Oh, right. I didn’t forget you, ankle. I was hobbling, searching for a seat. My friend Felicia congratulated me and led me to a rock to rest. I sat down and was handed a Ziploc bag of ice. I removed my sneaker and sock; there was no bruising, just mild swelling, which was reassuring. I placed my bare foot inside. The ice cubes surrounded my foot, and I exhaled with relief as I cheered on the runners finishing.

After 10 minutes, I decided I should get up, move around, and clean myself up as I looked down at the dried blood on my right hand. Did I put my sock back on? I don’t remember, but I do recall how difficult it was to get my sneaker back on and the discomfort of standing up again. My right foot was not happy, and I paused for a moment to decide what to do. I had trouble putting weight on my foot and couldn’t believe it. I limped to my car, wondering if I could drive home.

To be continued….

The link for Monday’s writing community at 11 am (EST)

Halloween Edition of the Move. Write. Connect. Group! It was the perfect way to end the fall session. Thank you so much for creating with me, and I look forward to our next group in Winter 2026! Stay tuned for more details.

Thank you!

In January 2024, I told my family I wanted to run a 50 mile race. While we were having dinner, I shared my big news with them. I had butterflies in my stomach as I looked across the table and blurted out, “I’m planning to run 50 miles in November and wanted to make sure you're all on board.”

Jeff chewed his food, the kid’s eyes widened, “Wow. cool Mom!”

I waited to see what Jeff would say as Brindsley asked, “Where is the race, and can we go?”

I smiled, “Of course! I want you all to be my crew.” Delaney and Brindsley smiled, “Awesome.”

My stomach relaxed, and Jeff put his fork down. I don’t remember what he said, but I remember feeling at ease knowing he was behind me and all in.

Doubt was loud when I sat down to register for the race. Can I really find time for this training and still handle everything else? I clicked the sign-up button, remembering what my coach said in February when I asked about the time commitment. I wanted to run this, but I wondered how long I’d be away from my family to train each week. 

Coach Joel replied, “The time commitment will increase slightly, though not in such a way that time away from family becomes a significant issue. And if it does, we can be creative with layering workouts so the impact is minimal.”

His response was reassuring that this was doable. I believed I could make it happen, especially with my family on board. Yet doubt didn’t fade as training began. It lingered during those early morning runs, whispering that I was spending too much time away. I needed to be home with my kids, not out on trails for hours, and I shouldn’t fall behind on the dishes, laundry, and dust gathering in every corner of the house. I laugh as I write this, recalling the last time I dusted.

I sometimes fell behind on these things, and you know what? The sink didn’t explode. My husband didn’t yell at me. The kids learned to pitch in, and we all worked as a team. It wasn’t about having more time but scheduling differently and prioritizing what mattered.

A few months into training, my son wrote me a letter.

He said he was thankful to have a mom who enjoyed running and writing because it inspired him to do the same. That’s when it all clicked. I realized I wasn’t taking anything away from them by training. I showed my kids what it takes to work toward a big goal, and we had many conversations about Aunt Phoebe. I want them to know that doubt will sneak in, but it doesn’t have to hold them back.

I had another lingering doubt: my stomach. My stomach was unpredictable during training. Sometimes, it behaved well; other times, it didn’t. I kept showing up regardless, practicing my fueling strategy and trying different foods. My coach gave me a plan: fuel early and often, and stop at every aid station. I wasn't sure how my stomach would feel or if it would cooperate on race day, but I kept training anyway.

The race was still months away, but I was already becoming someone different from the person who sat at the kitchen table in January. Every training run, moment in the kitchen, and entry in my notebook revealed doubts, yet I kept showing up. Doubt would not stop me.

Next Monday, I’ll share what I found in the middle miles.

Thank you so much for being here with me,

Julie

Cheers! See you soon.

You’re invited to write together! See you today at 11 am (EST).

We’ll gather in silent solidarity to work on our creative projects, starting with a writing prompt to warm up. No experience is necessary.

Be part of our creative community! Use the link below to enter our Zoom room, and feel free to invite a friend to write alongside you. Together, we’ll discover our creative voices and find the courage to put our stories on the page.

Let’s write together. Let’s grow together.

Community writing session

Wednesdays in person!

Move. Write. Connect. meets this Wednesday at 9:30 a.m. at Freedom of Espresso in Liverpool, NY. This will be our last fall session.

Click the button below to sign up and join us.

Move. Write. Connect.