Welcome to the Allie on the Run show.
I'm your host, Allie Feller, and I just wanted to say hi and happy holidays and a few other things.
I won't keep you here long.
No fancy music in this one because my editor, Tyler, deserves a break.
Let's give a collective shout out to Tyler.
Can we?
He has been with me since episode zero of this show.
Yeah, there was an episode zero, which sounds kind of dumb in hindsight, but someone told me to do that.
So I did.
It was an introductory episode about what to expect on the Allie on the Run show.
And you know what?
I've never gone back and listened to it.
So I kind of wonder what I said.
I'll explore that sometime.
Today, we are more than 850 episodes in and Tyler has had a hand in every single one of them.
So Tyler, my day one or day zero, thank you for everything.
I hope you never hear this, because you didn't have to edit this episode and you should not listen to the Allie on the Run show in your free time.
But if you do, Tyler, thank you truly.
Okay, as is tradition now, I'll be checking in next week next year technically for the annual State of the Alley on the Run show episode and we'll do some real reflecting in that time together.
But I couldn't let 2025 come to a close without making sure you know exactly how important you are to me.
2025.
This year included the highest highs and the deepest, darkest, scariest lows.
It was the year when I finally started to come back into my own to live a fulfilling meaningful, fun life.
I had cancer in the rear view.
I had divorce starting to be in the rear view.
Life was looking good.
And then, a few days after my 40th birthday, it felt like the rug was ripped out from under me and the ground beneath the rug crumbled.
And I sunk into the kind of quicksand that we all learned so much about and like, really feared, in elementary school.
I went into this year thinking rock bottom was behind me.
I did a lot of fun things.
I joined a ski racing team and I found so much joy trying something new, scary and totally low stakes.
For once in my life, I did not care if I was any good.
Now, don't get me wrong.
I spent the entire season desperately wanting to beat my dad just once, and I never did.
David Feller remains undefeated against me on the slopes.
But mostly I was just having fun and embracing winter and spending Monday nights under the lights.
Meanwhile, Annie was also learning to ski.
Some of my favorite moments and memories from 2025 are of going skiing with Annie and just laughing the entire way down the mountain.
My career at the beginning of 2025 was thriving.
I had great sponsors, exciting events lined up and this really amazing community along for the ride.
I was running regularly.
I got back to hot yoga for the first time in years.
And I started working on a really fun project with two incredible women.
And I can't tell you anything about it.
And I know that's super annoying.
It's probably the first time in my life that I have been enjoying the journey without being obsessively focused on the potential outcome.
Now, if this comes to fruition, you'll know.
And if it doesn't, then I'll tell you all about what could have been.
But I will say the process has been so rewarding.
My relationships felt stronger than ever at the beginning of this year.
And they still do.
That hasn't changed.
My friendships were a focal point in my life.
Annie and I started doing girls' nights every Wednesday with our friends.
And I will tell you, the ultimate mom hack is being best friends with your kids' best friends' moms.
And without telling you more than I want to tell you, I was in fact dating and having a lot of fun.
I had the best weekend ever at the Boston Marathon, followed by the best weekend ever at the London Marathon.
I got to go to London for work.
Thank you for that new balance.
And then I had the best weekend ever, celebrating my 40th birthday by filling our house with love.
Of course, as you know now, throughout those three best weekends ever, I had this nagging pain in my chest.
I self-diagnosed, as one does, and told myself it was costochondritis, which I would deal with and learn to spell and pronounce eventually.
And then at my birthday party, my beloved surgeon felt the spot that was hurting and And the rest of the year was a whirlwind from that moment on.
I was flying so high.
I felt like I was finally at the point in my life where cancer was in fact becoming a blip, which is what I so hoped for.
I knew it would always be a part of my life.
But the surgeries, the chemotherapy, the fear that was in the past and I was moving forward.
Until I wasn't.
If you're here, you know what happened next.
I underwent a ton of tests, and I came out of them with a stage four breast cancer diagnosis.
The cancer had recurred in the tiniest bit of breast tissue that remained after my double mastectomy, and it had spread to my bones.
So it was never costochondritis.
I wasted all that time and energy learning to spell and pronounce something that I never even had.
But I will tell you, costochondritis, as much as I tripped over that word, it was easier to say out loud than I have stage four breast cancer, which I still struggle with saying out loud.
I was told that I likely have five to ten years.
It is a brutal prognosis for a newly 40-year-old single mom to the world's greatest kid, who was six at the time.
And it's a brutal prognosis for anyone.
I mean, no one wants to hear that your life is on a timeline.
All of our lives are on a timeline.
But to have that spelled out for you as a sort of prediction, it was not a good day.
That was not easy to hear.
So I was thrown right back to the cancer center at Dartmouth-Hitchcock Medical Center, right back into chemotherapy and all that goes with it.
And thrust into this world of stage four, this world where cancer is never really a blip because there's no cure for stage four, which it is nice that that rhymes.
It makes it a little more fun to say.
So I was doing it all again, but scarier, while still going through a very long and painful divorce process.
And when I was ready to share my big, crappy news, I felt like that rug was put back under me, and underneath it were layers and layers of stability.
Now I was still fighting for my life to get out of the quicksand, but I felt really supported by my friends, my family and my gosh by all of you.
My little life update was covered by People Magazine and the Today Show online, which is a totally wild experience seeing your worst news covered by major news outlets.
I will never forget the day of Annie's kindergarten graduation, dropped her off at school that morning, then went to dartmouth with my dad for my port placement surgery.
I spent a few hours under anesthesia and i woke up and was so, so sick.
The procedure had taken longer than expected.
There were some complications, so i needed more anesthesia and i woke up in rough shape.
But i put on a dress.
I had to have my dad pull the car over on the side of the road right near annie's school so i could throw up before we walked in the door And then I put on a big happy face for graduation.
It was such a special celebratory day and I was in such rough shape.
That turned out to be kind of a theme for the rest of 2025.
It was a lot of fake it till you make it.
And I did.
A lot of putting on a happy face while dealing with some pretty unimaginable fear and grief behind the scenes.
So I started chemo again every three weeks and it was rough.
This new regimen was really hard on me.
I would go to chemo on Tuesdays, I would try to get a good night's sleep, and then I would pick Annie up from school the next day and pretend like I was fine.
Annie, my parents, and I went on a trip to Ocean City, New Jersey this summer.
And while we were there I had a really awful reaction to what we think was my nausea medication after chemo.
It was the sickest I have ever been in ways that I really have struggled to describe.
I was in such a low place, I was ready to throw in the proverbial towel.
I was ready to quit chemo after just two rounds.
It was such a poor quality of life and I was afraid it was going to be like that forever.
It wasn't, but that week remains probably the hardest week of my entire life.
I have leaned so heavily on so many people this year.
My friends have shown up for me in ways I could never imagine.
I often feel unworthy of such support because what am I doing in return right now?
Making sarcastic comments?
Cool, helpful, Allison.
Meanwhile, they have done so much to rally behind Annie and Ellie and me.
By this fall, I was still going to chemo every three weeks.
I was still feeling sick for a full 10 days after each infusion.
I found myself physically pretty unrecognizable.
I know other people will say they don't see it, but the reality is I pretty quickly gained around 15 pounds since starting chemo in June and I could see it.
I could definitely see it in my face, and I could feel it.
My clothes stopped fitting.
I felt uncomfortable in my own skin and I got to a point this fall where I just didn't want to see people.
I didn't want to see myself.
And it's not about number on a scale, it's about how I felt and it is about the physical manifestation of this disease that I so desperately don't want to have.
And it's one thing to be sick, it's another thing to look sick.
And again, I know other people will say Allie, we don't see it.
But I see myself all day, every day, and I see it and I feel it, even with cold capping.
I lost a ton of hair.
I
I lost my eyebrows and my eyelashes.
They grew back.
They're now falling out again, round two.
So when I showed up in Chicago for the 2025 Chicago Marathon, it was really with mixed emotions.
I was happy to be there, but I was self-conscious.
I was kind of a shell of myself.
I had gotten a wig that I kind of felt like I needed or wanted, but I was uncomfortable in the wig.
I was just in a rough place.
And then...
I walked on stage at the New Balance Live show with Eric Jenkins, with Taylor Swift's just released The Life of a Showgirl playing.
And whoa, was I brought back to life in that moment.
You gave me a standing ovation and I felt so much love and support in that room.
And I felt your hands on my back and I needed them.
New York City brought a lot of the same.
A few weeks later, this time we were at Jazz at Lincoln Center with Sydney McLaughlin-Lavrone.
New Balance surprised me by outfitting all 500 of you with Team Ally sweatshirts.
And I know I've said it before and I will say it again, and again, and again, but I truly wish that everyone could feel the kind of love and support that I felt when I walked into that room.
It was overwhelming in the most wonderful way.
I definitely have still not processed any of it.
There's just no time.
No time.
There's never any time.
Jessie Spano, I mean, timeless.
She gets it.
I get it.
The next day I got to ride the marathon course in one of the women's lead vehicles with my dear friend Christine Burke.
As we turned into Central Park, she played opalite and we laughed and we smiled and we cried.
It was pure joy.
I did dozens of interviews for the ESPN and ABC7 broadcasts of the race and I felt so in my element and so insecure in my wig.
The next day I got to record an episode of the Allie on the Run show in person with my idol, Katie Couric.
So yeah, should have been on top of the world, right?
Well, let me tell you.
I cried for hours after the New York City Marathon and on the drive home, right after recording, with my girl, Katie.
Should I call her my girl Katie?
Probably not.
It was such a stark reminder of how much life had changed since New York City the year prior.
New York City 2024 was one of my favorite weekends of my entire life.
And for all of the high points from New York 2025, I still had to drive home at the end of it and go straight to chemotherapy.
And that was a rough round.
Round seven.
I threw up a lot round seven.
So the year is wrapping up with a mix of wonderful and heartbreaking feelings.
I am preparing for my first Christmas without Annie.
She'll be with her dad for the week leading up to Christmas and on Christmas Eve and Christmas.
So there is a big Annie-sized hole in my heart right now.
This is one of the many hard realities of divorce.
There is a legal court ordered plan in place that denotes what happens on holidays and other important days of the year.
And this year, the way the days fall, that means Annie and I are apart for a full week at Christmas.
And yeah, I'm really sad about it.
So to ease the ache, I'm going on vacation.
My first real proper adult vacation since before Annie was born.
My goal for this vacation, because why not have goals for everything you do in life?
God, I am exhausting.
My goals are to try really hard to relax, to resist the urge to spend too much time in my inbox, though I will have to spend at least a little time there, and that's okay.
Being productive is in fact how I relax.
I can't help it.
My goal is to be outside as much as possible, to eat really good food, to spend time with really great people and to not put pressure on myself to make this vacation everything I need it to be, because I haven't taken a vacation so long.
I feel like, oh my gosh, first vacation in like nine years.
It has to be this and it has to be this and it has to like, I need to take that down a notch.
There will be more vacations in the future.
This is just the first one in a long time.
So I would rather be with Annie.
Yeah.
I would always rather be with Annie.
But I'm feeling like this is not a bad backup plan.
So to anyone who is having a hard time this holiday season, I am sending a little extra love your way.
I feel like we're all so conditioned to power through the holidays and try to make them as special as possible for the loved ones in our lives.
And that's nice.
But sometimes life is really real and that doesn't always pause just because the calendar tells us it's a day to celebrate.
So If you too have a kid-sized and shaped hole in your heart this season, or if things are hard at home, or if work has been tough, or if you're struggling to find work, or family stuff is intense, or you had a relationship end this year, or you're overstimulated or you're lonely, you're not alone.
I promise.
Even if you go to bed alone every night, Even if you spend your days alone, even if you feel isolated and like surely no one could possibly understand what you're going through and how you feel, you're not alone.
One year ago, I was filled with optimism.
I was happy, like really, truly happy.
And then life took a lot of unexpected turns, on top of detours, on top of road closures and traffic jams.
And ultimately, 2025 was not an easy year for me.
But long story short, I survived.
Or okay, if a karma quote is more your vibe, how about we tap into a little Taylor karma and end with ask me what I've learned from all those years?
Ask me what I've earned from all those tears.
Ask me why so many fade, but I'm still here.
I'm still here.
My closing message to you today is the same as it was at the end of last year.
And it's as much to you as it is to me.
And that is that you're going to be okay.
If life right now is great, great.
Enjoy the great.
Live in the great.
Appreciate the great.
Spread the great.
If you're in the thick of it, okay, you won't be there forever.
The sun will come out tomorrow.
And if you're not ready for sunshine tomorrow, it'll come out next week, next month, next year.
So keep holding on.
Keep moving forward.
Keep waking up.
Keep going.
Find the good wherever you can. and cling to it because the bad just can't last forever.
Thank you for helping me cling to the good this year, for being my ever-present reminder that I have so much to fight for and to live for, for seeing me at my lowest moments and celebrating me at my highest.
I stopped believing in myself over and over and over this year, and I doubted myself often deeply.
But you did not let me get away with it.
You are always there in my inbox, my P.O. box, at my live shows, at finish lines.
So you've got this and we've got each other and you're doing great.
Happy holidays.
Love, Allie.
I love you.
