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the runner's low

The runner's high - that sought after, beautiful feeling of flow, fulfillment, contentment, and even pleasure - is so present in running media and culture, it seems as if the runner's low doesn't exist.
...Yet it's presence is continually there. It shows up in different ways - the post race blues with the unbalance of hormones and exhaustion and lack of routine. It can slide in at envy of others runs, their training schedule and ability, their social fun. It is deep in sultry pains of an ultra, when we question ourselves, who we are, why we are doing this. It's fierce when we are injured and unable to run at all. It sneaks in as a "NEED" to have another adventure, another high, and the low feeling when we can't satisfy that craving. It seems part of an addictive solution for our brain to feel happy and alive. It exists -  we remember a particularly fun run/adventure/race, and we want it - again. Even right after a race, blisters still oozing on our f…
Recent posts

standhope 60k

it seems like the last few years I've aged, and I've grown. I lost my identity as a runner. if I didn't run frequently, if I wasn't in the mountains, if I wasn't pushing my own limits, what was I? 
I'd retained the identity as a mother, daughter, sibling, friend, student of literature and wilderness. this was a shift - less time, less comments, less messages with the running community that I didn't know well, a deepening of friendships and relationships with those closest to me.
it felt odd, going into standhope. I didn't have goals, I wasn't sure where I was at with running, I wasn't in shape for racing. I had this idealism, that if I raced hard, I could inspire others, not to run, but to pursue life with passion. but, what about when I can't race hard? when life is racing too hard for me to train?
earlier this year my Dad was diagnosed with mantle cell lymphoma. visits to the hunstman increased, my mileage decreased. when looking at anoth…

my children in wilderness; my partners in adventure

kids. it's one subject that everyone seems to avoid in the back-country. I daresay it's even more controversial than bolts/chopping bolts, the purpose of 200 mile slogs, or the benefits/costs of lake powell.

why is it so unpopular? most of us have kids, and we all were kids once. still, most outdoor peeps love a crag dog and will "oooh" and "aah" over an obnoxious pup getting tangled in their gear, but will groan when they see a few kids at a climbing crag. even in utah, other peoples children are generally viewed as distasteful as the little bags of dog poop the poop fairy forgot to come back and pick up off of the trail.

fortunately, kids are nearly as common.

"kid krushers"
"mini me's"
"the backcountry parent"
"badass babes"
"#nochildleftinside"
"free range parenting"
"little training partners"

the titles we use are amusing and endless...


I have two kids. I'm a single mom. I l…

RUFA – When things don’t go as planned.

Two weeks before RUFA, I felt great – I ran back-to-back 20+ milers at a good pace, I had energy during the day, I felt strong. I overlooked the length of time I slept that weekend, and how tired I was at 9pm. What mattered was that I could run, was running, and was running well. Maybe I could beat my record at RUFA. Doing well at RUFA would confirm my decision to go Barkley, it was my health benchmark. If I could run decently for 24 hours, I could continue to try to train (healthwise) for a 60hr event. There was so much hope for that day. I’ve tried to remain optimistic – being sick for 7 months tore apart friendships, hurt my fitness, made me long for the mountains. But I could be positive, I’d tell myself. I could hope to overcome. Funny thing, I can’t “hope” and “positive think” myself out of a long-term illness. The week of RUFA, I was a little more fatigued than I had been, but I just assumed it was giving me deeper sleep. I rested, I didn’t run. Each night prior I made sure I got a…

we don't choose our battles, but we choose how we fight them.

to say that any of us are in our current circumstances as the outcome of our choices is to look at a sphere and call it a circle. while our decisions are a part of the battles we fight, there is much more.
In the fell clutch of circumstance       I have not winced nor cried aloud. Under the bludgeonings of chance       My head is bloody, but unbowed. ~Henley
in a world of social media and photos, it seems everyone is running or training more than we are, playing more, is skinner, has more friends. we want to be the more that we see. the battles behind the images - that some are posted days or weeks later, or were from a 30 min jaunt, etc tend to make us believe that we're missing something - we can't attain what we see.


some of our battles are unseen - some of our battles are internal - depression, anxiety, abuse, parents or family members requiring our constant care. other battles are visible - chronic sickness, injury, lack of finances, single parenting.
while most of us could wallo…

a new year; a wasatch akitu

“Think now history has many cunning passages, contrived corridors, and issues, deceives with whispering ambitions, guides us by vanities. …The tiger springs in the new year. Us he devours.”
another new year startled us today. somewhere between the late night meandering into a warm bed, after the clock already struck a replayed chime marking the change of calendar (for, we can DVR the change of year and play it in every time zone,) and after the morning coffee, sunrise, prayers, or routines—the time has changed, and so have we.
the Wasatch is a flurry, the new recreational pursuits settling into it as the heavy snow settles onto it. it has been a dense year of both snow and increased use of the snow.
although this mountain range sits above a major metropolitan area, it retains pockets of wild refuge still hidden from its’ own mountain refugees. these pockets of frozen time are still filled with change. no man steps into the same Wasatch twice, for it is not the same Wasatch, nor is it the…