Race Recap: Tie Dye 50k

I think I can officially say "I drank the water."  If I wasn't absolutely sure before this race, I can now say, without a doubt, that I am 100% addicted to trail running.

By January of this year, I had already scheduled two races: a 50 miler in August and the looming 100 miler in November.  I was casually looking around for a few more races to fill my schedule.  I decided I would make a return to the Mohican 50 miler, and my training schedule called for a 50k race in mid-May.  I stumbled upon a little race in Yellow Springs, Ohio that piqued my interest.  Two trail loops through John Bryan State Park with about 2,000 feet of gain, and a price tag of just $45? SOLD.  The Tie Dye 50k seemed like the perfect training run/race for me.

Three weekends prior I had completed the "No Wimps Challenge" at the Pinckney Trail Weekend, including both a half and full marathon on back to back days, and my body hurt for a good four days after that weekend.  This is pretty normal for me after a race and when I felt ready I laced up my shoes to get ready for the Tie Dye 50k.

As the race drew closer, I discovered that my friend, Leanne, would be there (yay!) and also my cousin's wife's cousin, Todd, would be there, running his first 50k, and I was looking forward to meeting him.  Then it was time to hit the road-a girls' trip, accompanied by my mom and two daughters, to stay with my aunt and uncle and family for the weekend.  The night before the race, we were scheduled to attend a pasta dinner benefit for my cousin who is planning a trip to Quito with her church group-the perfect meal for me!

And then it was race day!  Leanne and Todd happened to pull in within minutes of me and we all coincidentally parked together.  After packet pickup we chatted and gathered our gear, applied lube and sunscreen, and snapped a few pre-race photos.

After that, we headed to the start area for some last minute instructions and info about the course: watch out for the fallen tree with poison ivy on it at Mile 3, follow the orange flags which would be on our right side throughout the race, and the location of aid stations along the course.

There was a quick countdown from 5 to 1 and then we all headed out.  No fanfare, no gun, no starting timing mat.  Just go.  And we did.  The fastest runners took off in a hurry, and quite a few of us mid-packers fell into a line as we navigated the single track trail.  There didn't seem to be many ups and downs, and I was following a long string of runners.  I felt that I could've gone a little faster, but held back because I knew there was a lot of race to go.

Just past Mile 6, we climbed a short hill and came around a corner to find a group of runners stopped.  Standing still.  They were lost.  And so were we.

When had I seen the last orange flag?  I couldn't remember.  I had just been following along with everyone else!  Come to find out, a few of those stopped runners had gone nearly three miles in the wrong direction.  We decided to backtrack a little bit and eventually ended up on a main park road.  And when I say "we", I mean there were about 40 of us.  40 people standing in the middle of the road, not sure where to go.  WHERE WAS THE TRAIL?!  We ran in one direction down the road, stopped, turned around, and ran the other direction down the road.  Nope, must be back the other way, and we headed back again in the other direction.

Finally, someone came along who had run the course before and herded us all across a parking lot and back into the woods.  And there was an orange flag!  How did we even get here?  And how did so many of us miss a turn on the trail?!  This was a first for me.  Anyway, I was glad to be headed in the right direction once again, and began navigating a rockier trail that was gradually descending down into the forest.  And then it started raining.  It was a light rain and I didn't really mind it since it was already a warm day and the humidity had been at 100% since the start of the race.  I finally made it down to the bottom of the forest and the skinny trail led me along the Little Miami River, which cuts through this state park.  Off in the distance I could see the runners who were ahead of me and I couldn't wait to navigate this section of the course!

It was rocky, and rooty, and there was often no trail at all, but this was my favorite part of the course.  The runners had really spread out by this point, and I didn't have anyone right behind me, urging me onward, which was nice.  I wanted to take it all in.

The trail followed the river for a while and finally took a turn to the right and the climb up and away began.  There were some gradual switchbacks and a few steep climbs, but the rain was still light and the trail wasn't too slippery.  YET.  This part of the course was a bit more challenging and I was quite happy when things leveled off and the first aid station came into view.  The aid station volunteers told me I was at Mile 9, but my GPS watch read 10.31.  Crap.  I had gone more than a mile out of my way when I had gotten lost.  I grabbed a couple of pb&j squares and some orange slices and headed out on a little four mile loop that would bring me right back to this aid station.  This loop started down a wide road and then quickly veered off onto a tight single track trail filled with short climbs and descents and a few minor stream crossings.  At the very back of the loop I was high above the river and I could see a gorgeous waterfall.

And then BAM.  I was on the ground.  I guess that's what I get for not paying attention!  I wasn't hurt, and luckily no one was around to see me fall, but I was covered in mud.  I kept running and came upon a small, clean-ish stream where I took a moment to rinse my hands and knees off and then I was on the go again.

As I headed back to the aid station, the sky got darker and I heard a rumble of thunder.  Do they postpone ultras for storms?  I didn't know.  I arrived back to the aid station in the rain, and you'd think it was sunny and 75 degrees.  The volunteers were filling packs and making sandwiches and offering words of support to all of us and there was no mention of the storm.  OK THEN!  3.5 miles and I'd be back to the start/finish aid station before heading out on my second loop.  I had met up with a couple of ladies at the aid station who had also gone off track like I had and I followed them for the next couple of miles.  This section of the course had a lot of steep climbs and sharp downhills, and things were starting to get a bit slippery with the constant rain, but the ladies were talkative and the distraction was a welcome one in those conditions.

When we got about a mile from the aid station, they stopped for a break and I pushed onward.  I was completely drenched at this point and was beginning to calculate in my head how long the second loop would take me now that everything was getting so slippery.  I finally got to the start/finish aid station, which was Mile 16-ish, and dried off enough to text my mom and aunt that I had one loop to go.  They were planning on being there for the finish with my daughters and I didn't want them to wait too long for me.  I again snacked on a couple of pb&j squares and took my obligatory orange slice photo.

There weren't many runners in the aid station area and I had to ask a volunteer which way to go to head out on the second loop, as there was no one to follow.  So, I headed out solo, in the rain, for loop two.  I was only minorly muddy at this point and I snapped a quick pic.

After a short distance, I was back on the single track trail for the second time.  I was completely alone and the dry, rocky trail was now filled with unavoidable puddles and mud and it felt like an entirely new course.  It had stopped raining and I was feeling good.  I decided to pick up the pace a little bit.

 I ran along through the mud, thinking how strange it was that there were no people around.  I came to Mile 19 and again hopped over the fallen tree with poison ivy and kept on running.  Finally I could see someone up ahead.  I passed her shortly, and another woman not long after that, and then I was alone again.  It was getting darker and there was another rumble of thunder and then it started to rain again.  Except this time, it was POURING.  I mean, it was raining so hard that it felt like it was coming up from underneath.  And I was having a blast!  My shoes couldn't have been filled with more water, the mud on the trail was so thick it was like running with suction cups on, and I was having the time of my life!  I was ticking off the miles effortlessly and passed a couple more people, but the trail was mostly quiet.  When I got about five and half miles into this loop, I started paying attention.  I didn't want to get lost again.  Orange flag, orange flag, running, orange flag, so far so good, orange flag, running and running, orange flag, running and running and running...where was the next flag?  It must be around the next corner.  Or maybe the next corner.  Had I missed a turn?  I didn't think so.  And running, and running.  And no more orange flags.  SHIT!  At this point, I had gone too far to turn back and I knew I'd be to that main road again shortly.  And there it was.  And I felt like an idiot.  I had once again added over a mile to my route.  So I grudgingly ran up the road, and over the parking lot, and ducked back into the woods and onto the trail and back to the land of orange flags.  Still, I had no idea how I had missed the turn TWICE!  Ugh.  At least I was among some runners now.  I stuck with a group of guys as we headed down the rocky trail towards the river once again.  Everything was slippery and muddy now and the downhills needed some extra attention unless you were interested in taking a very fast detour to the bottom!  By the time I got back down to the river, the rain had stopped.  It was cooler down here and there was a slight breeze and I got to traverse the trail along the river all alone and it was amazing.  When the trail turned inward and upward once again, I started passing hikers and walkers out enjoying the park, now that the rain was finished.  The leader of the groups would usually yell out "ANOTHER RUNNER" and they'd all stand to the side to let me pass.  Near the top of the first climb I heard, "HERE COMES ONE WITH PIGTAILS AND SHE'S A CUTE ONE!"  Gah! Get me out of here, I thought!  And then it was smooth sailing into the next aid station.  I said, "Are there any other runners out here?  I haven't seen anyone in miles!"  They laughed and assured me that I was not truly alone.  So, I headed out on that quick four mile loop and made a mental note to not look at the waterfall when I got there.  I didn't want to fall again!  I try to limit myself to falling only once per race!  After about two miles into the short loop, I ran out of water.  Why hadn't I refilled it at the aid station?  Not smart.  And then my watch started beeping at me-it was about to die.  Perfect.  Oh well, I only had about four or so miles until the finish.  I could get some water on my way back through the aid station and I could go without GPS to the finish.  Before I finished that short loop, I passed a guy walking.  I asked if he was ok to which he responded, "I'm out of water, my watch and phone both died and WHERE IS THE AID STATION?"  I tried not to laugh, and said the same thing had happened to me and assured him that the aid station was less than a mile away.  As I left that loop I noticed a gorgeous old tree just standing there, watching us all pass by.

I quickly refilled my water at the aid station and headed for the finish.  Just three more miles.  I knew they weren't the easiest three miles of the course, but I was feeling good still.  This was so weird to me!  Usually, the last five miles of a 50k are horrid for me and all I want is for the race to be OVER.  But today?  Today I was loving every  minute of it.  I climbed the hills and slid down the muddy descents and kept on running.  I could hear voices every now and then on the switchback portions, but I never saw another runner in those last few miles.  With just a mile to go, the trail opened up into a grassy field area, where there is a pavilion.  It was packed with people and it was very quiet.  Just as I ran by, I heard a minister say, "You may kiss the bride!" and the crowd erupted in applause and cheers.  I guess I timed that right!  And then I was in the homestretch. Another short climb and a few twists and turns and I could see my family in the distance.  I ran towards them, and as I left the forest and headed for the finish, there were cheers and clapping and high fives from my loved ones.

I crossed the finish line in 7:13.55 and was the 6th female to finish.  Not bad considering I had run two (much to my dismay) extra miles because I had gotten lost!  I was completely drenched, from rain and sweat and other disgustingness, I'm sure, and was sooooo muddy.

But still, I felt good.  I had felt good the entire race.  I was happy with the outcome and I think it was good mental preparation for the Mohican 50.  This was my elevation chart from the TieDye 50k.

It pales in comparison to the climbs I will be facing at Mohican, but for me to run this 50k with the ease that I did, is a hug confidence boost. 

I met up again with Todd and Leanne after the race and we shared our tales of adventure with each other.  I cannot say enough good things about the trail running community.  There is nothing like sharing a day in the woods with runners who tell their stories and share their tips and tricks and leave you with little pieces of themselves.  And to have an actual cheering section waiting for me at the finish?  Well, that's definitely a first. They definitely motivated me to finish strong and give my best effort and I am thankful they were there. 

So what comes after a 50k?  Well, I cleaned up the best I could with water bottles and wet wipes, completely stripped naked in the parking lot (shielded by a towel thanks to my mom), put on some clean clothes and went to Young's, where I sat in a red rocking chair and enjoyed some ice cream.  That's a pretty good ending to a great race day.

Race Recap: Pinckney Trail Weekend

I have run half marathons, and I have run marathons, but I have never run both races in a single weekend.  When my husband, Jason, told me four months ago that he wanted to train for a marathon, we picked one and I set him up with a training plan.  But then when I actually went to sign up for the race, I discovered that this Sunday marathon also had a Saturday half marathon option.  After consulting my 50 mile training plan, I discovered that I needed close to that many miles anyway this weekend, and decided to sign up for the half AND full marathons.  This was called the "No Wimps" challenge, and hey, I am no wimp.

I stuck to my training plan and have been feeling much stronger than last year at this time, and I slowly began to tell people that I had registered for this race weekend.  People were slightly surprised when I mentioned that I'd be doing the half and full and several of them who had run this course told me that it was quite challenging.  I hadn't looked at the course or elevation profile, but these people were road runners-of course trails would be more challenging.  Right?

A few weeks out from the race weekend, I finally bit the bullet and checked out the course.  And it looked challenging.  We don't have many hills to run around here and even when I seek out some climbs, my runs usually only have 300-400 feet of gain over 20+ miles.  This isn't really ideal for the races I have planned this year, which is another reason I have filled my schedule with smaller, challenging trail races.  The half and full for this trail weekend was what I needed, even if I wasn't quite ready for that elevation.

So, on Saturday morning, I headed down to Pinckney, Michigan, for my first of two races: the half marathon.  It was cold and windy as we waited for the race to start, but there was no rain (and no snow!) so that was a plus, and I knew once we got in the woods we'd have a nice shield from the wind.  Racers huddled behind walls to block the wind until it was time to head to the start line.

There were over 500 people running this half marathon, and on a single track course, that made it crowded.  We were running pretty much toe to heel the entire time, with the occasional runner who would come from nowhere, shout "ON YOUR LEFT" and fly by through the leaves and branches on the sides of us.  After a couple miles, I settled in behind a guy who was running at a pace I was comfortable with.  The hills were somewhat steep, but they were short, and most of them went right back down after the climb.  As the miles went on, I began to wonder about this guy in front of me and after seven miles, I got up the courage to talk to him.  It turned out he was running the half marathon and 50k on Sunday and was training for the Mohican 100 in June.  I'll be there running the 50, so we had a common bond.  I followed him until about Mile 11.5, and then it seemed he was slowing down and I wanted to pick up the pace to head for the finish.  I thanked him for his leadership for the majority of my race and went on my way.

I took some pictures and some funny videos and I think this one is a good representation of my day.  Smiles and waves and camaraderie out there with fellow trail runners. 

My quads were feeling a little sore from the climbs and descents, but I nearly sprinted that last mile and a half.  It was a race, afterall, and I wanted to just let loose.  I crossed the finish line in 2:15:37, a respectable time for a trail half marathon, and I was feeling confident about the full marathon the next day.

I'd like to tell you that I went straight home and put my feet up, but that wasn't the case.  I drove the 1.5 hours home, showered, made a taco salad, and headed to a friend's family birthday party for the next four hours.  After that, we dropped the kids off at Nana and Grandpa's for the night, and I went home to soak in the tub.  After that, I had some fabulous pizza and watched a little Netflix, drank a beer and went to bed.  That 4:30am wake-up call was going to be a little tough after the day I had had.

Once again, I headed to Pinckney, this time with Jason.  I knew this was going to be a tough course for him as his first marathon, but I kept things positive.  We had some friends running the 50k and the 5 miler, and it was so nice to meet up with them on this chilly morning!

My quads were a little sore after the previous day's race, but I was ready to get things started.  I knew I'd be going at a more conservative pace on this second day, and I planned to follow Jason and take in the sights.  After a few crowded miles, it was clear I'd just have to run my own race.  Jason had taken off with a pack of runners and I had no way of sticking with them. 

By Mile 8, the course thinned out a bit and for some reason, I hit a low point.  It was so early in the race and I was feeling more than a little discouraged.  At Mile 9, I decided to grab some Coke and a cookie and then forged onward.

Close to Mile 11 I was feeling a bit better, and when I paused to let a few faster runners pass, I noticed a familiar face among them.  He didn't know me, but I knew him.  Many years ago, when I was pregnant with my youngest daughter, I would go to the gym and slowly walk on the treadmill.  Most days, this man would come in to run FOREVER on the next treadmill, and he would quickly draw a small crowd.  Over the months, I would listen to him tell stories of a big race he was training for called Western States.  I didn't even know a race like this existed!  100 miles?  Of running?  All at one time?  Who was this guy?  I was fascinated.  And highly intimidated.  And I wasn't a runner.  Running was TERRIBLE!  Since becoming a runner, it seems I see him everywhere. At the grocery store, walking in town, biking past my house.  I had never gotten up the courage to talk to him, but today I did.  I said, "Hey, I know you!  You live in my town!"  And over the next 2.5 miles I told him how I knew about his Western States run and that I was training for my first 100 miler and I would love any advice he could offer.  He told me the best thing I could do was to learn to run the downhills.  And then he said, "Follow me" and took off like a shot down a steep hill.  So I did.  And it was amazing.  We did it again, and again.  I don't think 2.5 miles of a race have ever flown by so fast.  That was just the pick-me-up I needed.  I thanked him and went on my way. 

And then, as I passed through the start/finish on my way to the second loop, there was my friend, Jessica, smiling and cheering and taking photos of me and then she ran up and gave me the most delicious white chocolate macadamia cookie I have ever had and wished me luck on the second half of my race.  That's what friends are for, right there!

I hadn't seen Jason in miles, but I figured since he wasn't at the finish area that he must've headed out for the second loop.  The next few miles were very quiet, but it was a gorgeous day and the trails were so peaceful with the runners finally spread out and I just took in the sights.

At the next aid station, I fueled up and of course I had to take my token "orange smile" pic for the archives.  I grabbed a couple more snacks and headed on down the trail.

Around Mile 16, I hadn't seen another runner in quite some time, when I caught a glimpse of grey and black ahead of me.  It was Jason.  I didn't think I'd catch up to him, but when I did, he wasn't in great shape.  His IT band was giving him trouble, as it had in all of his longer training runs, and he had a pretty good limp going on. I gave him some Motrin and a salt cap and told him we were going to walk the uphills, jog the flats, and get down the declines as fast as possible.  We had less than ten miles to go and we had to get it done.

After a couple more miles, I could tell he was feeling a bit better and we got into a good rhythm.  We made it to the Mile 22.5 aid station and when a guy in a kilt cracked open a PBR for us, we did not say no!  I've come to know that ice cold beer at Mile 23 of marathons are one of the greatest things ever.  At this point, we knew we were both going to be marathon finishers, so we grabbed a couple more snacks and hit the trail for the final few miles. 

My quads were screaming at me on the downhills those last few miles, but I told them to shut up.  I had done it.  39.3 miles in two days on a tough course.  And I knew if I had more miles to go, I could've done it.

As we neared to finish line, I sent Jason on to get his big finish.  He had worked hard the past four months, training in the dark before work and in snowy and cold conditions and it was time for his reward.  I crossed shortly behind him and we were both surprised to learn that we had placed in our age groups.  We definitely had something to be proud of.  We had both persevered and we completed what we set out to do. 

After scarfing some cheesy bread given out at the finish line, we headed home for showers (is there anything better than a post race shower?!) and grabbed some dinner before heading to pick up the kids.  I think Nash was happy to see me...

Oh, and then?  The day was not quite over because I'm also a softball coach for my oldest daughter, and we had a practice to get to.  Mom life never ends, you know?  And really, there's no place I'd rather be.  As final reward for a weekend to remember, I discovered that those sunsets I love so much are back. 

I love trail racing for the adventure, but I also love it for those little moments.  A smile, a high-five, flowers peeking up through the leaves, turtles splashing into ponds when I run by, a woodpecker pecking in the distance, words of encouragement from a passing runner.  I love that the peaks are windy and chilly and the valleys are warm and damp.  I love the stories other runners tell as they fall into step with you for a mile or two.  I love that we are all out there for those very same reasons.  There is nothing like a trail race weekend that  can leave your body totally depleted and your heart totally full.  Races like these are what keeps my fire burning.

A Journey of 10,000 Miles

In the Spring of 2009, pregnant with my fourth child, each morning I'd drop my two oldest kids off at school, check my third child in to the gym child care, and I'd climb on the elliptical machine for my twenty minute exercise.  Every day was the same.  And it was boring.  I'd watch the same gym patrons come and go every day, lifting their weights, walking on the treadmills or riding the stationary bikes.  But there was one man who stood out.  He'd spend three or four hours there, alternating treadmills, changing paces and incline and even walking backwards on them.  I found myself turning down my music blaring through my headphones to hear his conversations with people who stopped to chat with him during his workouts.  He talked of his plans of running 100 miles.  All at once.  Was this something people actually did?  He was training for a run in the western states, through the mountains.  And I didn't know it then, but he was talking about THE Western States-The Western States 100 Mile Ultramarathon.  And I was fascinated.  I mean, I wasn't a runner.  Heck, I had no desire to run ONE mile, let alone run 100, but the way he described the race and his plans and his training intrigued me.  It sounded like the most epic adventure imaginable.

And then, I was a mom of four.

And then, three years after that, I was a mom of five.

With the birth of my fifth child, I had either been pregnant or breastfeeding for the last ten years straight.  And while I loved the time I had given my children and the sacrifices I had made to be a stay-at-home mom, it was time to take a little bit of myself back.  In December of 2012, I accepted a challenge given to me to train for and run a five mile race the following Memorial Day.  But I didn't start with running.  I couldn't start with running.  At six weeks post-partum and weighing in at 200 pounds, I had a long way to go.  I chose the Insanity workout program.  And it was horrible.  I couldn't do half of the moves and I definitely couldn't keep up with those happy, sweating, ripped people staring back at me from my television.  But I stuck with it for the entire 60 days.  And in the end, it was worth it.  I had lost 35 pounds, gained a lot of muscle, and was feeling much more confident about myself.

But now it was March, and my five mile race date was looming.  So, on March 24, 2013, while on vacation in Florida, I laced up my shoes and headed out for a two mile run.  AND I THOUGHT I WAS GOING TO DIE.  Forget the two miles.  By a half mile into that run, I had to stop and catch my breath.  And then at the one mile mark, I didn't know how I was going to make it back to my starting point.  Every step was a struggle.  And when I finally finished my two mile run, nearly 25 minutes later, I didn't feel accomplished.  I felt defeated.

I ran again the next day.  And the next day.  And the next day.  In fact, I ran two miles every day that week.  And every run was terrible.  My lungs burned.  It was not fun.  But I had agreed to that five mile race and I wasn't about to call it quits.  So I kept running.  I was counting the days until the race, not out of excitement, but because after the race was over I wouldn't have to run anymore.

And then I ran the race.  And it wasn't terrible.  I mean, having to run was terrible, but the race was fun!  And I got a medal and delicious food afterwards.  Maybe I'd do one more race.  So I did.  In fact, I ran a bunch of 5k's.  And I met some other runners-I had never known anyone who was a runner.  When my parents suggested Jason and I go to Las Vegas that November to run a half marathon, I laughed.  And then I thought about it.  That could be cool, right?  So I trained.  A lot.  I didn't really know what I was doing-I'd spend  week working on adding mileage and the next week working on speed.  I'd alternate that back and forth and gradually my runs got longer and my pace got faster.  A month before Vegas I decided to run a local half marathon just to make sure I could do it.  I didn't want to get all the way to Nevada and then not be able to run 13.1 miles.  So, in October, 2013, I ran a half marathon.  And it was HARD.  And when it was over, I stood near the finisher's mat and I cried.  And then I couldn't wait to do it again.  Bring on Las Vegas!

After that, I ran another half marathon.  And another and another.  And then there was a local 20 mile race I was interested in, so I ran that.  And then I figured if I could run a twenty miler, I should probably run a full marathon.  So, 15 months after I had started running, I ran a marathon.  And again, I cried at the finish line.  And I couldn't wait to do it again.

That Winter I was invited by a friend to a group trail run.  I had never run on trails, let alone on snow-covered trails, but I showed up ready to run ten miles that day.  As we headed out, on a skinny single-track trail, I was huffing and puffing up a steep incline.  I couldn't help but overhear the men talking behind me.  The had all run  100 mile races that Fall and were telling their stories. And this time, instead of thinking they were crazy, I was jealous.  I wanted that kind of adventure, but clearly, I had miles to go before that could happen.

The next couple of years I continued my journey-a couple marathons a year, with a few half marathons thrown in here and there.  And then, after I ran the Chicago Marathon in 2015, an internet friend suggested I run a trail 50k with her.  At first I thought she was crazy, but the more I thought about it, the more couldn't STOP thinking about it.  So I signed up.  And then she changed her mind.  By then it was too late, though, so I traveled to Southern Indiana alone and stayed in a cabin with seven perfect strangers and woke up early the next morning and ran three loops through some small mountains in a forest covered with thick frost and completely tested my physical and mental limits and crossed the finish line with absolutely nothing left in me and all I felt was HOME.  These were my people and this was my thing.  And I couldn't wait to do it again.

Since then, I have run two more 50k races and a 50 mile race, among other  smaller races.  I have run on pavement, on trails, on sandy beaches, over a few mountains, in snow, in ice, in shin-deep mud, in pouring rain, in 40MPH winds, in subzero temperatures, in 95 degree heat, in high humidity covered with back flies, in the mornings before the sun rises, and at night when my children are asleep.

I used to say that I loved to run because I really, really love food. And I have to admit that running has definitely given me a body to be proud of.  I never wanted to "look good for having five kids."  I always wanted to look good because I took care of myself and made good choices and I wanted to be a role model for my children.  Insanity may have helped me shed my baby weight, but running is what transformed me.

And while I love the physical part that running has played in my life, the mental benefits are even greater.  Running really does keep me sane, and I am thankful that my family understands that.  I can solve a lot of conflict inside my head with a good, long run.  I have laughed and cried and wanted to quit more than a few times, but you know what brings me back?  The adventure.  Every run is different.  Even the same four mile route two days in a row isn't the same.  There is always a new face, or a new discovery, or a new idea created.  And those days that I've wanted to quit?  Well, they haven't won.  Even when I am completely defeated and it's pouring rain and I feel like I can't take another step and I've been gone so much longer than I had planned and my family comes out to the road to look for me and they find me stumbling home, carrying my pack instead of wearing it, I have still won.  I am still out there, fighting and getting it done.

I have seen deer, dogs, sheep, kittens, llamas, turkeys, ducks, geese, snakes, raccoons, chickens, groundhogs, opossum, cows, hawks, eagles, and even a rare Bigfoot sighting.

All told, I have run over 60 races in 8 different states.  I have worn 25 different pairs of shoes, and have listened to 55 audiobooks and countless podcasts.  I have run with groups of people and told my famous stories of poop and races I can only dream of running.



And today?  Today I ran my 10,000th mile.  In some ways, it happened in a blink. In other ways, it has taken a lifetime to get here.  It's hard to comprehend, right?  Ten thousand miles with my FEET.  To put it in perspective, that's like going from Flint, Michigan to Melbourne, Australia, across the entire United States and the Pacific Ocean, and still having another 120 miles or so to go.

It really has been an adventure.  The breathtaking places I have seen and the real, genuine people I have met and had the honor to run miles will be with me forever.  The past five years have been unforgettable, and I have no intentions of slowing down or stopping.  This year I have big plans.  You know those crazy 100 mile races people run?  This year is MY year.  In November, I'll be there at the start of the Chattanooga 100.  Next winter, I'll be the one telling my tale of an epic 100 mile journey.  My adventure awaits.

Here's to my next 10,000 miles.