What goes up…

That feeling of reaching a summit, when those last few hundred feet of vertical struggle is over, there is a feeling of relief, humility, awe, gratitude, achievement – but it is brief, and after a few minutes, it’s time to turn around and go back the way you came.  It’s not that the view gets old or that you don’t want to savor the moment, but the goal has been achieved and no matter where you sit, some pointy rock edge is jamming you in the ass – it gets cold and windy and chances are a storm will roll in before too long.  Before the journey down the mountain is even over, you find yourself already craving another and reminiscing about the journey up, almost wishing you were still headed in that direction.

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and the password is…. Mud

Quad Rock has a reputation for being either hot as balls or near blizzard conditions year to year.  Spring in Colorado is unpredictable and despite 70+ degree days surrounding race day, this year it was in the 50s with rain and mud.  Oh, so much mud.  And every kind of mud. There was the kind of mud that tries to steal your shoes, the kind of predator mud that stands by while its prey exhausts itself trying to stay upright, the splashy diarrhea mud, and the pottery-slip mud.  And in the final stretch was the kind of mud that turns your Salomons into Herman Munster shoes.

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Re-calibration and redemption

It’s no secret.  I’ve been flailing.

Anyone close to me lately has seen the signs that I lost my way.  I can’t stop thinking about my last blog post – although it contains many complete sentences, it feels completely incoherent.  I’m leaving it up to demonstrate that sometimes it’s hard to stay focused on the right and positive things, to demonstrate my humanity.  The funny thing is, that post took me forever to write and edit and write again, while this one is just flowing out of me.  A sign that I’m on the right path.

This is the natural course of these big lessons in resistance.  As the pace of change has quickened in my life, I have been resisting instead of remaining open and vulnerable. As a result, I’ve experienced a lot of darkness, confusion, grasping for control, the going down of rabbit holes and general overall emotional flailing.  While my unconscious has been busy processing all the disruption in my life, my ego went hog wild, partying and breaking valuables.  It’s not all that surprising, but while I was in it, I just knew I was miserable and couldn’t figure out how to get out of it.  That’s when I remembered.  I have a say in the matter.

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Less of a beginner than when I began

I never really considered giving advice on running trails because I consider myself to be very much a beginner.  I still have so much to learn.  I get DMs fairly often asking about gear and how to get into trail running, but recently someone reached out to me on Instagram, my favorite, favorite community building platform, to ask me for tips on getting into running trails to cope with a difficult life experience.  I know a lot about that!  I started reflecting on my journey and would like to offer some recommendations based on what I would do differently and what I got right – but mostly on what I do now after getting it wrong.  It’s not that tactical, but I promise you, it’s just as important.  You’ll figure out the tactical stuff as you go along.

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Rejection. Failure. Loss.

Nobody wants to deal with any of these, but if you’re a human adult, you’ve certainly encountered all of these things and probably taken them a bit too personally a time or two.  If you’re me, you have become intimately familiar with each one of them, like a trio of sister-wives.

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Two tales of forward progress and facing fear

The One Where She Ran 

If you read my inaugural post, you may remember that I confessed to being too intimidated to join any of the RMR runs because it’s a large group of fast and furious runners that are much stronger and fitter than me.  I promised that for every comment anyone made committing themselves to doing something they were afraid of, I would join one RMR run this year.  Well, this week I attended the first one facing that all too familiar fear of “I’m not good enough”.

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Changing my tune

I’ve had a cold all week, where every day has felt worse than the last.  I’ve been able to keep in good spirits, or at least make jokes, rather than focusing on my suffering.  I’ve been spreading this li’l gem far and wide, as it pretty much sums up the last three days of my life.

Congratulations if you made it past that.  And sorry, humans are gross.

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