Part 2: Ironman 70.3 Eagleman – Race Report

I still can’t get the smile off my face from this event. I was so nervous going into race day, worried I had somehow over tapered, and with a guilty conscious that maybe a few of the strength workouts or the occasional speed workout I skipped would be the reason I wouldn’t achieve my goals (I promise to skip fewer workouts next season, coach!)

Crossing the finish line at Ironman 70.3 Eagleman.

But, the day turned out to be PERFECT. I had a goal for myself in this race - break the 6 hour mark. And I achieved that goal. I am so proud of myself and grateful for the ability to set these types of goals, train as hard as I did to try and achieve them, and have the support system around me on race day to make it a reality.

Race weekend

Eagleman is held in Cambridge, Maryland – one of my favorite little towns on the eastern shore. I signed up for the race in December 2023, and thankfully checked the race hotel website immediately, and found out it was already sold out. After some quick google searches, I was able to get us a hotel up in Easton, Maryland. Hotels sold out so quick for this race, and I’m greatful for where we ended up.

We drove out early on Saturday morning, arriving at Maces Lane Middle School to test out the shuttle service. We were happy to find out how easy and quick it was, making my anxiety about arrival times much lower going into Sunday morning. We got to the check-in spot around 10:30 that morning. I grabbed my packet, got my swag, and then headed over to the bike mechanic.

Yes, bike mechanic. Because silly me had two things working against myself heading in to race weekend. First, I was not able to find any bike shops in a reasonable driving distance to service my bike for me in the week leading up to the race. I called half a dozen, and all had week+ turnaround times. I learned a valuable lesson here – either get my service several weeks out, or figure out which bike shops let you schedule a service rather than dealing with the chaotic first-come-first-serve situation most shops I know of operate under. The second issue I was facing was – as we were loading my bike up on Saturday morning, I noticed my gears slipping when I shifted into certain gears, and this most of all was sending me into a pure panic spiral.

Thankfully, for $135 and 4 hours worth of waiting, my bike was fully serviced and my gear issues were fixed. I truly believe this saved me on race day, and made it possible to achieve the times I did.

Waiting around for my bike to be serviced, repping my Free to Run gear. Had a great conversation with a few folks about how amazing this NGO is.

We then went over to the DC Tri Tent and made a homebase for ourselves while we waited. I did a quick practice swim of about 750 meters, wearing my wetsuit to see what the temperatures would feel like if the race was wetsuit legal. Then, Chris and I went on a super short run along part of the run course just to loosen up the legs. We attended the athlete briefing and lounged around some more, all while my anxiety was starting to build up even more.

Finally, around 3:30 my bike was ready, and I went to drop it off in transition. I was exhausted at that point, so we caught the bus back to the middle school, made a pitsop at Wawa for a veggie sub (I was too nervous to do anything else), and drove out to Easton to check-in to our hotel and begin the process of unwinding and resting ahead of a 3am wakeup call (!). I also needed to organize my transition bag, and triple check I had everything.

Bedtime for me began around 7pm, and I was asleep (with the help of some melatonin) by 8:30. My goal was to have 8 hours of rest, even if it wasn’t full sleep. While I tossed and turned starting around 12:30am due to my ever present anxiety, I knew my body would be rested enough to get me through the morning ahead.

All the goodies that went into my transition bag laid out on the hotel table the night before to confirm I had everything I needed.

Race Day

The alarm clock went off bright and early at 3am on Sunday morning, as we had to make it to the start line by the 6am start time. I took a quick shower to get my hair wet so I could braid it up quickly. I drank coffee, made my standard peanut butter and honey toast, and chugged some water. We were out the door by 4:05am and were off the bus walking to the start line by right around 5am.

Transition area was TIGHT for this race. I’d never had a bike rack this packed before, and really had to make sure my space was consolidated to ensure I didn’t encroach on my neighbors (or misplace my own gear!)

While on the bus we got the notification that the race would be wetsuit optional – and thus another puzzle piece came into play. Would I wear my wetsuit, or not? A moment of gratitude for the DC Tri community who helped me soundboard this decision and signficantly ease my anxiety (no wetsuit for me!)

I headed into transition where I set up my gear at my bike. One thing I realized after transition was closed was that I forgot to pre-open my clif blocks – so had to mentally note for myself this was a new task to handle in T1.

I was over to the swim start area around 5:45, and lined up with my anticipated pace group. Since I wasn’t wearing a wetsuit, I had no idea what to expect pace-wise, so seeded myself as I would have based on my time last year. I am a pretty strong and confident swimmer, and thus was seeded somewhere towards the middle-front of the swim pack. I expected a time around 40 minutes or less. But, I had never swam 1.2 miles without a wetsuit, so really had no idea what to expect!

The swim

Off went the cannon at 6am, and by around 6:18 I was jumping into the water. The temperature felt great – not too warm and not too cold – just right for swimming. There was a bit of jostling around me for the first several minutes, but not too bad. I did notice that for the most part I was surrounded by green swim caps, indicating I was one of the few women in the pace group I started in.

Aerial image of the swim start from Ironman 70.3 Eagleman. I started about 18 minutes after the gun went off.

I had a hard time sighting while out in the water. This was a combination of factors both in my control and out of my control. My goggles are old – and probably needed to be replaced years ago. They still work though, but this race made me decide it is finally time. I don’t think they are polarized, which also added to the sighting issues. There was a bit of a current on the way out – not terrible, but certainly a bit noticeable. I felt it both as I swam forward, but also noticed there was a bit of a sideways current that was pushing me towards shore and away from the bouys. I had to recorrect course a few times, but don’t think I ever got too far afield. My watch didn’t end up capturing the swim – it was turned off somehow around 250m.

After I rounded the first turn, I was feeling great and getting into a good rhythm. If there were fewer people, I would have taken more strokes at once but settled for 2 strokes per sight/breath – a little too much but seemed to do what I needed to keep the heartrate down, the bouys in sight, and not slamming into people.

Rounding the second turn, I knew I was in a good spot. I was continuing to pass people, even though I technically seeded myself a little faster than I thought I could swim. This meant either everyone did that, or I was having a good race. Either way, great for my mental space at that time. The swim finish was hard to spot though. It was a bit of a turn from the last buoy and was hard to see. Lots of folks were going off course here, and the kayakers were putting in work redirecting everyone. I finally made it in, got out of the water, and began my T1 effort.

Emerging from the swim. The distance from emerging from the water to hopping on the bike was about 0.3 mile!

All smiles as I moved through transition.

I had no idea what time it was or what time I got on the swim, but focused on timing myself from T1 forward, pushing to see if I could meet all my other time marks for the day.

In T1, I tried to be as efficient as possible. I quickly toweled off, put on sunscreen, put on my helmet, socks, shoes. I opened my clif blocks and loaded them in my race suit. I checked my tires, put on my sunglasses, and then was off.

The bike

I felt great getting in the saddle. For the first mile or two, I focused on breathing and keeping my pace steady – something I learned in training and from coach to do. Over the next 10 miles, I began to open up my speed steadily – focusing on not pushing too hard, but also leveraging the energy and high spirits I was feeling.

Wind started hiting us with a consistent head and crosswind for the first part of the race. In some spots it was pretty intense, requiring low gears to spare the legs. I was nervous about the wind, as I am not great at biking into a headwind – something I want to keep improving in future training blocks. But, I knew I put in the work during this training cycle to prepare for windy conditions, and knew I could survive if I kept my head on straight and focused on preserving energy.

Around mile 20 an asshole of a man came up behind me. I heard him blowing his nose behind me, and then immediately pass me. What I wasn’t ready for was him to KEEP blowing his nose, which meant it flew straight into my face. After I let out an audible and very angry yell, he didn’t even turn around to apologize. A pack of three other men passed me shortly thereafter, and one of the guys who clearly saw and heard it all said something along the lines of ‘what an asshole’ to which vigorously agreed with.

After succumbing to my fate of contracting whatever virus or illness this jerk of a man fated me towards, I refocused on my race.

We turned into a section without wind, buffered by tree line and shade. I picked up my pace, and was cruising. I knew at some point the wind would come back, but I also knew at some point we would have to have a tailwind. Based on how things were shaping up, I figured we may get a nice tailwind towards the end of the race, which again bolstered my spirits.

Throughout the first half, I was really focusing on my race nutrition as well. I had tailwind (the drink) in my bottles and clifblocks on my body. I drank one full bottle by the halfway point and had 5 or 6 blocks. For me, that was a good effort, as I am never great at prioritizing nutrition in a race. I started in on my second bottle, and figured I would finish it well before the end, so needed to start watching for an aid station to get some water.

I came up to the second aid station, and decided this was my time. I still had some tailwind on me, but I wanted to drink half a bottle of water to hold me over. Unfortunately, I messed up the aid and missed the bottle. A really kind man saw me miss my bottle and offered to share some of his gatorade with me. I politely turned him down, but was so grateful for the gesture. I figured there had to be another aid coming up, and I’d go even slower through the next one to make sure I got water.

The tailwind (actual wind, not nutrition) finally kicked in soon thereafter, and my pace significantly picked up. I had been riding slightly below my goal pace of 18mph through the headwinds, and knew if we didn’t have a change of fate, I’d fade at the end of the bike and be off my time target. Thankfully, fate was kind to us during the race, and I was able to cruise with the wind – at points hitting 22 and 23 mph! I was feeling great.

My stomach started to protest on me a bit as the race wore on. I desperately wanted water to switch out my tailwind and clif taste – and to just settling the rumbling. I was constantly thinking about wanting water for about 5 miles before I hit the next aid, and as soon as I saw the aid I started to significantly slow down (probably too far from aid in all honesty) so I didn’t mess it up this time. I rolled in so slowly and was able to grab the first bottle handed to me. I chugged and chugged and drank almost the whole bottle before the end of the aid.

Looks like I was feeling pretty good out there when this photo was taken.

I was like a new woman after that. Gears kicked in, and I locked myself down to push to the end. Watching the time, I was starting to also realize I was exactly on pace to hit my goal time of 3 hours. I pushed and pushed trying to make that a reality, while also trying to save my legs for the run ahead.

Unclipping before the dismount line, I looked at the time and knew I had done it. I hit my goal bike time, and my spirits were bolstered. Heading into T2, I walked / jogged my bike to the stand, took my helmet off and swapped with my visor. I reapplied sunscreen, left some trash at my spot, put my shoes on, chugged some more water I had left for myself at transition, then headed out.

The run

Coach had drilled into us to start the run slow and save our legs. I took this advice to heart – my first half ironman I blew up in the run and had to walk a lot of it. So while my body wanted me to be running an 8:30 pace, I cooled myself down and tried to focus on my goal pace of around 9:30-9:45.

In the midst of my ‘walk the aid station’ strategy, pouring a cup of water into a cup of ice. This strategy really worked for me during this race.

The run course was hot in many parts, but we were aided by the wind in other spots plus beautiful locals who were hosing us down with sprinklers. With aid about every mile, we also had ample opportunity to drink water and grab some ice. I capitalized on all of the above.

My race strategy was to walk every aid station, drink water, get my heartrate down a bit, then run between aids. This was a fantastic strategy, and I think saved me in the long run. I had a bit of a low spot on the run around miles 7 – 10, and was worried I was going to start collapsing. I took a little extra time in some aids to walk very slowly and drink ice water to cool myself. As I hit the 10 mile mark, I knew my race was on though. I realized that, if I kept my pace where I needed it to be (10 minutes or less per mile, incorporating the walking at the aid station) I would potentially hit my goal of a sub-6 half ironman.

This is where the training really paid off. Those long weekend efforts, coupled with the speed workouts on the track, trained me mentally and physically for what I had to do in the last 5k of this race. I doubled down on my running speed – pushing myself to a 9-9:20 pace. I still allowed myself my walk moments at the aid stations. Then, as I hit mile 12, I realized I was on the verge of making my dream a reality.

I thought back to my mile sprint repeats this spring, and told myself it was possible to re-enact those efforts at the end of this race. So, I dug into the recesses of my mental and physical capacity, and began to push. I hit an 8:20 pace and was cruising, leaving every ounce of effort I had left out there on the course.

I rounded the last turn and headed into the finish chute knowing I had absolutely nothing left to give after I crossed the finish line.

5:58:28.

I did it!

What’s next?

Currently, nothing! I don’t have any races on my calendar for the time being, as my job is about to get a bit busier in the coming months and could shift my capacity.

However, I do know there are some things I would like to improve upon in advance of future multisport efforts. That includes:

·       Continuing to build my bike effort: I truly believe, with enough time, I can become a very strong biker. I have to remind myself I have only been trying to competitively bike for just over a year. I constantly am down on myself for my speeds on the bike, but know that realistically, speed will come with time and more experience. I already saw dividends paid this year – with most of my training rides faster than last year at the same time. And with a better understanding of what a real bike training program should look like, I have gained a lot of skills I just didn’t have until this year. I can’t wait to see how I build upon this next year!

·       Focusing on a stronger run: I am proud of the run I did at Eagleman, but also know I am likely capable of running this leg of the race a lot faster. My solo half-marathon efforts certainly have been faster, with a PR of about 1:48. I don’t think I will hit that time in a half ironman anytime soon (frankly, it’s been a while since I’ve seen that pace in a regular half marathon too!), but it would be great if I could break the 2 hour mark. I’ve got it in me, I just have to train for it, and tell my mind it’s possible.

·       Other misc. improvements: I think there are some improvements I can make in the swim to shave a few minutes off my time, but I am very pleased with where my open water swimming is at, compared to athletes around me. I could improve my transition times as well, but when we look at how both my swim time and transition time improvements could compare to other areas of the race, the minute or two differences here and there are probably not where I would want to spend my time and effort. If I could take 10-12 minutes or so off my ride and run times each, I could get close to a 5:30 effort, which would make my heart soar to heights currently unimaginable.

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Here's to doing hard things, and being proud of ourselves for doing it.

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Honorable mention to my husband Chris. I tried to make the term “Tri Husband” a thing, he tried to make “Tri Caddy” a thing, but I think we landed on “Baggage Carrier” as his role for this weekend.

Part 1: Ironman 70.3 Eagleman – Training

As I type, I am sitting on my couch resting my very sore legs after an amazing race weekend in Cambridge, Maryland. I can’t get the smile off my face – everything went absolutely perfect at Ironman 70.3 Eagleman, despite some last minute hiccups. I cruised across the finish line of my second ever 70.3 in a personal best and hitting every time target I set for myself.

I’ve got so much to unpack from this race, starting with the training regime first. The race report is in Part 2.

The Training Program

If you followed along on my training journey last year as I prepped for my first half ironman, you would know I was undertraining and underpreparing for the event at hand. I ran more than I rode my bike. I only did one bike ride longer than 36 miles. I skipped a lot of swim workouts. I didn’t do any meaningful speed work. As I stepped away from that race, I knew I had a lot of potential if I actually focused on training, and knew I found a lot of joy in the multisport journey.

Me and coach at the start line of Eagleman 70.3!

This past winter, I made the decision to sign up for the DC Triathlon Club’s Half Ironman Program. When I say it was one of the best sporting decisions I’ve ever made, I’m not joking at all.

Led by coach Stephan Weyers of Wingman Multisport, I joined a group consisting of both somewhat new as well as quite seasoned triathletes on a roughly 20 week journey to the start line. This was hands down the hardest and most rewarding training block of my life (and I’ve experienced many training blocks over the years!).

We eased in to training in the first few weeks, which was great for me as I had taken a significant amount of time off after the New York Marathon to recover my tendonitis. By the time the training program kicked off, I was still pretty out of shape but primed to churn and build a solid foundation.

I basically lived in this spin room in January and February

The program pushed me out of my comfort zone in many ways. As the program ramped up, the volume moved with it. In the cold winter months, not having a trainer to ride my bike at home, I could be found grinding away on my favorite spin bike at OneLife Fitness (bike 21 – you’re the best!), even doing a multi-hour ride one weekend when snow and ice made an outdoor ride impossible. I am a low-frills athlete, weary of investing in things until I know for sure the investment will pay itself off. Maybe next year I’ll actually get an indoor trainer and join the storied Zwift rooms I’ve hear about.

There were also many 5am or 6am swim sessions, vying for lane space and brushing the exhaustion out of my eyes as I pushed through the monotonous laps. And many Tuesday mornings starting at 6:30am you could find me running in circles at the Coolidge High School track (though I did learn the hard way both the open and close time of the track – pro tip – it’s 6:30am and 7pm)

Rain or shine, I tried to make my speed workouts every week. Coolidge High School was the best spot for me - generally open and not too crowded, while also pretty close to home!

When I say the program pushed me out of my comfort zone, I mean it had me doing things I hate to do, and doing those things pretty consistently. I hate to run on the track, and I hate speed workouts even more. What did we do most weeks? Run on the track, and do speed workouts for each of the three disciplines. I hate to do back-to-back long efforts on the weekend, but what did we do? Saturday long rides and Sunday long runs. And I did consistently longer rides than I had done last year – along the way building greater confidence in my ability to go further and harder on the bike than I ever thought I could (generally with a smile on my face though there were some very wet and cold and windy weekends I was cursing my life choices).

We’ll come back to some of these points in my post-race analysis, because they are critical to my success on race day.

Camraderie

When I signed up for the DC Tri Club Half Ironman Program this year, part of my reasoning was because I wanted to meet more folks who also did multisport. And while, for the most part I am a pretty solitary athlete, I’ve almost wholly operated in the running world, and know lots of folks from DC and Mongomery County Road Runners, as well as some of the other local running groups. But I didn’t really know many people who biked, and knew even fewer people who swam.

I had never even heard of the Six Pillars Ride until I joined DC Tri Club and attended the spring clinics. Fast forward a few months, I had the opportunity to do the Eagleman bike course with someone else in my training program!

I’m not a confident cyclist. I know HOW to bike, and can bike well. But I don’t know how to compete on the bike – a critical distinction in mindset and effort/output that has required a lot of focus and learning.

In order for me to grow as a triathlete, and especially grow my skills in bike competition, I knew I needed to surround myself with folks who knew the sport, knew the disciplines, and could share some of their wisdom with me. Throughout the past few months, I've made some fantastic friends and learned a whole lot about how to operate a bike in a race format – from cadence to pacing to how to get a water bottle at an aid station (spoiler, I failed this during my race at one of the aid stations I tried to engage with).

One of our group training rides during our Eagleman 70.3 training block. I couldn’t make every group ride, but was grateful for this opportunity to get some miles in with these lovely folks!

A group of DC Tri Club athletes at the Crossing Currents Sunday swim the week before Eagleman!

I also had the chance to open water swim with others during this training block. I don’t think I ever really mentioned my open water swim training last season - but suffice to say it was insufficient and a bit dangerous. I went out the weekend before my first 70.3 for a solo swim at Sandy Point State Park on the Chesapeake Bay. It was the only place I knew was open for people to access, and figured I could just do some laps in the water right along shore. Fast forward to this year, I learned about all these amazing open water swim groups, and had the chance to join Crossing Currents in Annapolis, Maryland for an amazing Sunday swim session. I got to practice sighting, test out my wetsuit, and remind myself what open water swimming felt like - in a completely safe environment.

From whatsapp chats to in-person clinics and workouts – I got to learn, grow, and build friendship with other passionate (intense? Slightly crazy?) folks in this sport.

Lessons learned

I pushed myself harder, and sacrificed more than I think I ever have during this training block. Thursday night trivia? Nope, sorry Thursday nights are for my easy runs. Saturday morning brunch? Nope, sorry I’ve got a 3 hour ride infront of me. Work trip? Better make sure we find a hotel with a stationary bike. Wedding in Alabama? Thank goodness my husband was part of the bridal party so while he was hanging out before the wedding I could get in my 12 miler!

Between coach, my fellow trainingmates, and the sheer volume of training – I grew as an athlete, a competitor, and most importantly as a person. I reaffirmed that I CAN do hard things, that I am more than capable of balancing work, life, and training, and I can have fun while doing it.

Onwards!

Peak Week & ‘Free to Run’ Inspiration for my Training

Peak week is in full swing, as I prep for the Ironman Eagleman 70.3 on June 9th. While the training sessions have been hard and intense, I can honestly say I feel so prepared for the race at this point. I’m leaps and bounds ahead in training compared to last year, and have built a nice community through my training program with DC Tri Club.

Tired after a 4x1 mile hard track workout this week!

As I type, I’m sitting on the couch resting from a hard swim workout this afternoon. And subsequently resting from a hard track workout yesterday. And resting ahead of a hard bike workout tomorrow. And then a 4 hour bike ride on Saturday. Which precedes a metric 70.3 training tri with DC Tri Club on Sunday.

As you can glean - this training cycle is not for the feint of heart. But it is for those who are up for the challenge - and wanting to really push themselves to see what is possible to achieve. This training cycle, I’ve worked harder than I think I ever have before. And that is saying something, given the number of generally ridiculous endurance events I’ve participated in over the years.

2024 Iraq Community Development Leaders. I had the honor of meeting some of the leaders of the Iraq team earlier this spring, to learn more about their work and their passions for sport.

As I train, I also am participating in events with Free to Run, the global NGO I am an ambassador for this year. A few weeks back, we had the opportunity to meet the women that are participating in Free to Run’s programming in Iraq. When I tell you I’ve never been more inspired by a group of individuals who are intentionally participating in sport, you must believe me. These women - internally displaced and refugees alike - are facing so many personal challenges. But their joy for sport, for running, marathoning, and fitness in general, along with the community they have through Free to Run - was infectious.

Women in Afghanistan participating in the Omid “Hope” program, in light of significant restrictions on their freedoms, including their ability to participate in sports which is strictly forbidden.

At the same time, more information is being shared with us about the situation in nearby Afghanistan, where Free to Run used to have very active programming prior to the Taliban retaking control. Now, women are faced with the threat of public stoning for participating in sport. Despite this, the passion of the women who participated in programming in the past remains, and the work of Free to Run continues, albeit significantly curtailed and in private.

While I push through peak week training for my race in June, I continue to reflect on the amazing opportunity I have to support women in sport all across the globe. I hope you explore the work of Free to Run, and consider donating to my fundraising efforts. Every bit counts, and goes directly towards supporting women across the globe who just want to participate in sport freely.

Training for a Cause

Many of us distance and endurance athletes take for granted the freedoms we have to pursue our sports - be it the freedom of time, capacity, physical ability, etc. For many of us distance and endurance athletes, especially women in the US, we don’t necessarily have to think about the freedom to simply participate. I was born in both a time and a country, for example, where it has generally always been accepted (and in fact, in many cases mandated) that women and girls have the right to participate in sport. That’s not to say things are perfect here in the U.S. There are many examples and data out there that continue to point to disparities in access to sport across gender, race, ethnicity, as well as disparities in funding for women’s sport programs.

But in many places around the globe, the freedom to participate in sport is not necessarily a given. This is particularly true in areas of conflict, where rights and freedoms are often severely restricted.

If you pay attention to even the smallest amount of global news, you’ll know our world is far from free of conflict. In fact, major conflicts continue to arise globally. Conflicts can have a devastating impact on societies, causing suffering on a widespread scale. Women and girls are often disproportionately affected, and the particular ways in which their rights are restricted are often overlooked.

There are many amazing organizations all across the globe working in communities experiencing conflict to address the humanitarian challenges, particularly facing women and girls. Far fewer organizations are focused on sports in areas of conflict, despite global recognition of the role sport can play in fostering peace and security, human rights, and development.

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Free to Run is one of those few organizations globally working in areas of conflict to enhance access to sport. In particular, Free to Run’s mission is to drive change in community gender norms in conflict areas by supporting adolescent girls and young women to advance their leadership and wellness through running.

Free to Run is a non-profit organization that uses running to support girls and young women living in areas of conflict to build their physical, emotional and social wellbeing; developing them into community leaders so they can bring people together across cultural, ethnic and religious lines. Free to Run operates in some of the most challenging regions in the world, where decades of conflict and instability have resulted in extreme social isolation for women and girls as well as harassment, constrained mobility, and unequal access to education.

They accomplish their mission by providing deep, progressive leadership and wellbeing programs in conjunction with running experiences - typically to refugees, internally displaced people, and girls and women who identify as ethnic minorities. While they work closely with communities and individuals, they are also working towards a systematic shift in gender equality with a specific focus on the expansion of access to public space and leadership opportunities for girls and women.

Ultimately, their goal is to increase the opportunities for women and girls to engage in public life, using sport as a tool of empowerment and education.

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Not to bury the lede too much, but it is my absolute honor to be a global ambassador for Free to Run this year. As I go about my training, engage with my sport community, and participate in endurance events, I will be simultaneously working to advance the mission of Free to Run, and raise awareness of their mission, ethos, and successes globally.

If you’d like, you can join my in my effort to support Free to Run. Your support will go towards continuing to advance Free to Run’s mission to drive change in community gender norms in conflict areas by supporting adolescent girls and young women to advance their leadership and wellness through running.

Let's Tri This Again

For the longest time, one of my top goals in endurance sport has been to flex my multisport skills and tackle triathlons. As a young adult, it’s been easy to focus on running - I can do that anywhere and pretty much everywhere I go - no truly special gear required.

If you followed my endurance journey long enough, you may remember I’ve previously written about hoping to one day do a full Ironman triathlon. While that may be a goal for future Katie to tackle, I’m definitely not physically or mentally ready to take on that level of endurance challenge. However, I truly loved the experience of training and racing in my first Half Ironman last spring, and think there is real opportunity for me to improve my effort, enhance my technical skills, and make some multisport friends along the way.

So, I did what I always do, and signed up for another race!

And I signed up for a training program through DC Triathlon Club. It’s about time I came out of my reclusive ultramarathon world and made some friends :)

I’ll be training with the DC Tri Club’s Half Ironman Program this spring. We officially kick off training on January 22nd (gulp!) and will be working hard over the following 20ish weeks as push towards our goal race. Speaking of - I’ll be racing the Eagleman Half Ironman out of Cambridge, Maryland on June 9th, 2024.

Wish me luck!!

DC Tri Club logo

42 Mile Run on MD Segment of the Appalachian Trail - The Run Itself (Solo Adventure Series)

During the pandemic, I set a goal for myself of finally checking off a ultra running bucket list run. For a few months, I trained by myself to run the entire stretch of the Appalachian Trail in Maryland. What an absolute adventure this run was. There were highs and extreme lows. I thought about quitting more than once, but my mental training carried me through to the finish line. I dedicated this run to the City Kids Wilderness Project, and raised over $700 to give kids from DC get rad outdoor wilderness experiences while learning leadership skills.

Read on for the whole experience!

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My alarm went off at 4:15am. I rolled over, and waited for my next alarm to go off, at 4:20am. I sighed, stretched, and made my way to the kitchen. Water first, then coffee. While the coffee brewed, I took a bit of peanut butter and honey sandwich I had made the night before. I wasn’t hungry yet, and set the sandwich down.

My aid station box included a lot of my favorite things: pretzels, tailwind, animal crackers, red bull, peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. I packed hand sanitizer (pandemic was still a thing), bandaids, tylenol, and more.

I sat with my coffee at the kitchen table, illuminated only by the dim light of our microwave oven light. It was too early for real lights. I peered at the box next to me, going through the mental checklist of supplies I knew I needed. Tailwind – check. Honeystinger waffles – check. Tylenol – check. Bandaids – check. I finished my coffee, drank another glass of water, and headed back upstairs to get dressed.

We pulled out of our driveway at 5:30am. I was driving, as my husband is nocturnal, but only in the late at night, not early in the morning sense. No one was on the roads at this time of day, which made our hour and a half drive to Thurmont, Maryland a breeze. Our first stop was the local Sheetz gas station. I would use the bathroom. Chris would buy a breakfast burrito and coffee. Then we’d turn up the mountain road headed towards Penmar and the Mason Dixon Line.

At just about 7:20 we pulled into the gravel parking lot. A few other cars were already there, including what appeared to be another trail runner, about ready to take off on his own adventure. I took my slippers off and traded them for trail shoes. I assessed the weather, second guessing my gear, but going with my gut of not having too many layers, despite the chilly air. I put my pack on, turned my watch on, and guided Chris and our dog Sam towards the start line, half a mile down the trail.

After a few quick pictures, a kiss (for the husband) and a pat on the head (for the dog), I turned south and began to run. It was 7:40am, and I had just about 12 hours of sunlight and 42 miles ahead of me to make it from Pennsylvania border to the West Virginia border.

Start to Aid 1 – 8ish miles

The first two or three miles of this section are deceptively nice. The trail is smooth, there are not major climbs. It tricks you into a false sense of security, until you stumble upon the boulder field. Having run this section a few weeks prior, in conditions considerably worse, I was mentally prepared for the descent and ascent of the boulder field. The downhill portion isn’t all that bad when it’s not covered in snow and ice, and once you know how long the uphill climb on the bolder section is, that too is manageable. I had an added boost in this early section – I came upon an older guy who was hiking at quite a fast clip right as I dropped into the boulders, and his pace kept me accountable (if not pushed me a little too fast) through this section.

I emerged at the top of the boulder climb excited because I knew this next section was relatively flat, and, missing the ice I experienced on my training run, likely a lovely experience. And so it turned out. I glided along this section, keeping my pace steady and working to conserve my energy. I had a long day to go, and many tough sections ahead of me.

I arrived at Raven Rock and began the descent to the river, making sure to watch my footing so I didn’t bust my ankle too early. At the base, I crossed the road, crossed the river (much more confident than the last time I was there), and kept moving. I eventually caught up with the runner I saw at the Penmar parking lot – he was clearly out for a long day too, as we were already probably 5 or so miles out from the parking lot and he showed no signs of stopping. I passed cordially, and continued running.

I chose aid station 1 where I did because there was a small car pull off section and a big open field. Perfect for my parents and husband to set up my aid box and water jug. I emerged from the tree line feeling really confident and happy, and made my way down the field to where they were waiting. Sam, our german shepherd, was with them and he was quite excited to see me.

I grabbed some water, had some pretzels, said hello to my parents and prepared to leave. I only spent about 5 minutes at this aid station, just enough to say some hellos and take a quick rest. While I was there, the runner from the morning passed by us. My parents offered him some water, but he declined and kept moving. I pulled out about 3 or so minutes behind him.

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Aid 1 to Aid 2 – 12ish miles

Ahead of me was a section I wasn’t looking too forward to. I was heading towards Washington Monument State Park, but in order to get there, I knew there was a section ahead of me that was absolutely full of rocks. I also knew there generally was going to be a big climb within the first few miles of this section. I wasn’t 100 percent certain on how big the climb would be or how long the rock section would be, because I hadn’t actually run a good portion of this stretch.

As I got going, the first two miles were great. But as soon as I passed Tumbling Run shelter, I crossed the road and immediately began to climb. And climb. And kept climbing. I’m not sure exactly how long the climb was or how steep it was, but it was definitely the real deal with switchbacks. About a quarter of the way up, I caught up with the runner I had been seeing on and off all morning. I ended up passing him, and as I passed, we struck up a conversation. I was surprised how far out he was, given I knew he was likely on an out and back, so I asked what his plan was for the day. He said he was aiming for 26 miles, which meant he had about 3 more miles to run from where we were before he would be turning down. I told him I was running to West Virginia and he was floored. I shuffled past him after a few more niceties.

At the top of the big climb, the trail was actually really nice. Smooth trail, few rocks, no elevation gain. That lasted for just a little while, and then I entered the rock section. To be fair, the rock section wasn’t as long as I thought it was. I had approached this section several times in the past from the opposite direction (running from Annapolis Rock) and usually given up after about five minutes of hop skipping over rocks and not actually running. After a handful of minutes on the rocks, I emerged, and was in very familiar territory at this point. I had trained for my first 50k on these trails, and memorized their quirks like the back of my hand. I wanted to go into autopilot, but my body had other plans for me.

Just after the rocks is a steady downhill section. The trail isn’t really technical, it’s just a lot of water bars and really consistent downhill, for maybe a mile. My knees at this point decided that they, specifically the right knee, really did not want to be doing what I was doing, and put up a huge fit. My right knee was cracking, and a sharp pain was setting in. NOT GOOD, considering I wasn’t even at the halfway point. ‘What was going on’, I thought to myself. I still don’t know what was happening, but I wasn’t pleased, and had to suffer through knee pain the rest of the run (an ill-advised suffering, I reflect on now).

Typically, steady downhills are my bread and butter. I cruise downhill, flying fast and gaining back any slowness I may have built up in the climbing phase of my runs. Unfortunately, I had to slow myself down here, nurse my knee, and take it easy. This got to my head, and starting planting seeds of doubt, which amplified over the course of the remaining 7 or so miles I had on this section.

I eventually passed Annapolis Rock, tenderly made my way down to the Route 70 overpass, and headed in to the last 3 or so miles to Washington Monument State Park. Half a mile in to this last section, I completely lost it. I was climbing a small little hill, nothing major, but my mind just said ‘NO’. I didn’t want to keep going. I found a stump to sit on, and had a good cry. I texted my husband one word: ‘struggling’, and then had another little cry. I sat there for a few minutes, just collecting my feelings, resting my body, and building up the motivation to at least finish this section.

Reflecting back on this moment, and the moments leading up to it, I think I can narrow down the mental and physical collapse to a lack of nutrition. I failed to onboard electrolytes at Aid 1, and hadn’t consumed any salt or electrolytes in the first 21 or so miles. My body just wasn’t having it. And I suffered the rest of the run because of it.

I eventually made it to Aid 2, after walking those long three miles from my stump. I told myself there was no reason to push myself at this point, especially if I wanted to finish. I just needed to get to Aid, get some salt in my body, take a rest with my family, and let everything else go.

Aid 2 to Aid 3 – 10ish miles

I sat at Aid 2, in the parking lot of Washington Monument State Park, for probably 25 minutes. I chugged Tailwind. I at half a peanut butter and jelly. I drank half a red bull. I used the rest room. And I just sat. My mom tried to talk to me and check in, but I wasn’t mentally available to have conversation. I just needed to rest. And reset. And figure out my plan.

I knew I hated the next section of trail. This section is the section I cried on during my training run a few weeks before. It’s not that the section is physically horrible, I just had a bad mental day when training on that section, and that set the tone for the trail for me.

I eventually sucked up my feelings and got going. I eased down the trail, and set myself on the path to making it to mile 30ish. I knew at the next aid, I’d have my husband joining me for the last section, and that alone was what helped movitvate me to keep going. I knew he was waiting.

I moved through the first few miles of this section, no problem. I got to the place where I had my meltdown before, and was feeling ok. I knew just shortly ahead of me was a flat and fast section, and I was excited to reach that spot. It felt like it took forever to eventually get there though, and my mind started playing tricks on me again. Placing seeds of doubt in my mind.

I started to tell myself that 30 miles was enough. It was my 30th birthday. I didn’t need to run 42 miles, I just needed to run my age. I could stop at the next aid, and claim victory by ‘running my age’. I nearly convinced myself that that was what I was going to do.

About a mile and a half from the end of this section however, my watch beeped at me. Battery was dying. I needed to make sure I finished this section before my watch died. I started running faster. And faster. I felt great all of a sudden. I was ripped out of my ‘woe is me’ mentality for a few minutes, and was purely racing against time at that point.

I made it to Gathland State Park and met my mom and dad at the picnic pavilion. They had my aid set up and told me my husband was at the car getting ready to run with me. I grab some tailwind, refresh on water, and just take a beat to check in. Would I tap out at this point? I really wanted to, but I had effectively convinced myself that I never wanted to run this section of trail ever again, and if I tapped out now, I’d have to come back and do the whole thing over again.

So I kept my quitter’s attitude to myself, linked up with my husband, and forged ahead for the last section.

Aid 3 to Aid 4 – 12ish miles

As we started moving, I told him very explicitly that I was essentially glorified hiking at this point. The pace was crisp, but we were walking all uphills, most downhills, and when I had the motivation and my knee wasn’t hurting, shuffling on the flats. Our pace was slow, and deliberate. I had one motivation at this point: finish before the sun goes down.

The section between Gathland and Weaverton is actually not too bad. I hadn’t really trained on this section, except a few out and back miles a few weeks before. I didn’t really know what to expect here, but looking at maps, I didn’t think it would be all that bad. With my husband by my side, I was able to keep moving because I knew I had another human with me.

I did yell at a lot of rocks at this point in time now. I told my husband all about how angry I was at the rocks. How stupid they were. How I never wanted to see another rock in my lift. How they were the worst invention on earth. He probably thought I had lost my mind at that point, and I’m pretty sure I was on the verge of it, if not fully crazy. I was delirious, tired, and just wanted to be done.

We made it to Weaverton with no real issues, and wove our way down to the C&O canal for the last few flat miles. I could tell the sun was starting to get close to the horizon, and I knew we needed to pick up our pace. I started a fartlek effort – I chose a tree, and ran to it. And then we would walk to another tree in the distance. And then I said we would run to the bridge far off in the distance that crossed the Potomac, about half a mile or so away. And we made it, and then we walked to another tree. And so on and so forth. We did that all the way to Harpers Ferry, ultimately running probably half of this stretch of flat and fast trail. I was so excited to be done that I had actually found some strength buried deep in the reserves of my mind and body.

We climbed up the stairs to cross the railroad bridge to Harpers Ferry and I was elated. Running across the bridge, we saw my parents standing and waving at us. I was so close. I was almost done.

We finished crossing the bridge, shuffled over to my parents, and in that moment, I felt like the weight of the world had been lifted off of me.

I did it.

I did something I honestly didn’t think I could do. I ran from Pennsylvania to West Virginia on some of the hardest technical trail I have ever experienced. I did it essentially alone (no other runners around me like in a race, and I ran over 30 of the 42 miles absolutely solitary). I had no other runners with me. I had no medal waiting for me. I had not finish line feast waiting for me. I had my parents (and my biggest running supporters) and my husband. And a bunch of tourists who probably thought all four of us were crazy.

Reflections

When I initially set out to do this run, I had no goals at all. I didn’t tell anyone I was doing it besides my husband until about two weeks out. I didn’t have faith I would actually get it done. It was scary, daunting, and the biggest running challenge of my life.

Ultimately, I set an internal and an external goal for this run – timewise. Anyone who asked me how fast I planned to run it, I would tell them I wanted to finish in 12 hours or less. Internally, I told myself if I was a good runner, I’d get it done in 10 hours or less. Turns out, my external goal was way more on point than my internal goal.

I started at Penmar at 7:40AM and finished in Harpers Ferry at 7:30PM. 11 hours, 50 minutes. I succeeded.

As someone who suffers from a lot of self-doubt, negative selftalk, and general distrust in my own abilities to achieve anything of significance in my life, I’m really freaking proud that I was able to finish this run.

There were so many moments on trail where I could have simply called it quits. I could have dialed my parents up, dropped them my GPS location, and had them meet me at the nearest trail crossing. Demons were whispering in my ear the whole time, made worse by the fact that I had ended up telling LOTS of people about my run. But I didn’t listen to any of it, at least not for too long.

As a distance runner, 80 percent of the run, in my opinion, is all mental. It is telling your mind that your body is capable of what you’re trying to get it to do. It’s convincing your inner self that you can finish, and hushing away the negative self-talk that anyone rightfully would have after hours of trudging through the woods, destroying their body.

I struggled with negative emotions through the training process for this run, and throughout the entirety of the run. And I’m really freaking proud that I was able to recognize that negative self-doubt, check-in with myself, and find the motivation in some deep reserve of my soul to keep going. This run reminded me that I am strong, I am capable of anything I put my mind to, and I can do so much more than I really ever thought I could. I’m really proud of myself.

I also had A LOT of help along the way. My parents and my husband literally drove from location to location for 12 hours, all for me. They never complained once. They were exactly where I needed them to be each time I met up with them. They helped fill my water. They helped ease my mind. I could not have done this without them.

Running for Good

I decided to raise money for City Kids Wilderness Project as part of this running effort. I posted about my run idea on Facebook, noting that I wanted to raise money to help kids from DC gain their own life changing experiences in the outdoors. Growing up, the outdoors shaped who I am. My love for the outdoors was spurred by hiking and camping as a kid. I figured if my hobby now was shaped by those own personal outdoors experiences growing up, I should leverage the power of my hobby to help others potentially have their own life changing experiences.

I ended up raising over $700 for City Kids Wilderness Project, and that is what I’m the proudest of out of all.  

Learn more about City Kids Wilderness Project: https://citykidsdc.org/

42 Mile Run on MD Segment of the Appalachian Trail - The Training (Solo Adventure Series)

Growing up in the foothills of the Appalachian Mountains, I have treasured her ancient slopes since before I can remember. I learned how to drive (a manual at that) on her winding one lane roads. I was taught mountain ecology on hikes with my ever-curious father. Prom dinner was at a restaurant nestled right along her spine. I watched with envy as my brothers embarked on backpacking trips with the boy scout troop, traversing miles of mountain trail over long weekends with all their friends. I told myself one day I too would come back with wicked memories of time on trail, just like them.

Over the years, my love for adventure along the Appalachian Trail evolved from simple day-hikes to backpacking. Eventually, that love for running evolved to a love for trail running. Embracing the wild of the mountain trail for hours on end became an escape for me. I heard people ran along the AT, but wasn’t quite convinced. In the lead up to my first 50k, I decided to give it a go. From a trailhead near my hometown, I stepped on to the trail with a new vision in front of me, and slowly built my confidence in gliding along the undulating rocky trail.

A Challenge Unfolds

When the coronavirus pandemic descended upon the United States, I had just been cleared to run again after over a year of recovery from an ankle break that just did not want to heal. Stuck at home in Washington, DC, I used running as my escape from the world. I began to log local miles, masked and distanced. I ran along the Anacostia River multiple times a week, soaking up a little urban outdoor oasis.

By May, my early and eager motivation to remain active during lockdown began to fade. Given that I had nothing to do when I wasn’t working, I knew this dip in motivation was bad news for myself. Surreptitiously one day, I received an email from the folks who put on the Patapsco 50k I ran back in 2017 – turned out they had put together a coaching business and were looking for athletes right at the time I was looking for coaching support.

I told my coach my goal for the year was to complete a solo marathon. And so that’s what I trained for. Throughout the summer and into the fall I trained diligently. But as the fall faded to early winter, I lost complete and utter motivation once again. I ran my 20-mile training run, then just … stopped. I just didn’t want to run anymore. I was tired. Exhausted. Burnt out and emotionally zapped. I hit pause on running. I just couldn’t stomach the idea.

As the holidays came and went, the seed of an idea that had been planted when I first stepped on the Appalachian Trail with my running shoes years before began to germinate. My next running project. My winter motivation.

I was going to run the Maryland section of the Appalachian Trail. I was going to do it solo.

Maryland Section of the AT

The Appalachian Trail in Maryland is quite short, all things considered. Just around 42 miles from border to border, the trail cuts through a narrow part of the state along the Frederick and Washington County borders.

The trail in this area is relatively well trafficked, given its vicinity to Washington and Baltimore, as well as all the towns and communities in the surrounding vicinity. I have never been out on the trail and not seen another person.

Over the course of those 42ish miles, there is roughly 7,000 feet of elevation gain. These gains are primarily achieved through a series of major climbs, supplemented by some continuous rolling trail, especially in the northern portion.

Training

I had never run further than about 34 or so miles before, and never gained more than about 4,600 feet of elevation in any race. This was truly going to be a challenge of pure physical and mental strength for me.

Between Christmas and New Years, my grand plan began to shape. I knew my motivation was likely to wane if I pushed this idea off too far into the future. I also knew I was not in super solid endurance shape. And I knew I was turning 30 in April, and it would be my second COVID birthday to boot.

My 30th birthday became my goal. Do something epic to signify the changing decade and set the tone for what I wanted out of the next chapter of my life.

I created a spreadsheet for training, with day-to-day instructions for how I would get to where I needed to be. I began with a master training log – projecting out long runs, and anticipating weekly volume and elevation needs to get my body to where it needed to by my birthday.

The plan started on December 28th, with week 1 training volume at 23 miles, slowly ramping up to 30 miles by week 5 and 40 miles by week 11. I take my mileage volume load very seriously these days after a devastating injury training for the New York Marathon a few years ago.

I got even more specific in the early days, creating a day-to-day specific training plan, which articulated how I should be running my weekly mileage (slow, hills, intervals, etc). And to make sure I was getting out of the city and getting elevation beneath my feet, I created a master long-run tracker. I focused in the early days of my long-runs with easy trails near my house. As the mileage began to creep up, my focus became ensuring I knew every portion of the MD section of the AT, as I would be solo for most of the run.

Turns out, I pretty much stuck to NONE of this plan, beyond generally ramping up my mileage at a consistent click and making sure my long runs got me out on the AT and experiencing the sections I didn’t know.

By February, the weather was gross. There was ice everywhere. My long runs were supposed to start getting me up into the mountains, but local intel (my father) told me the trail was socked in, covered in thick layers of ice. I suffered through city running through February, but got increasingly nervous about not knowing the AT terrain well enough by the time my birthday rolled around.

I took a risk in early March, and went to the PA border with a planned 19-miler south from PenMar. This was the section I knew the least, and it was the most important for me to train on this section. What a horrible mistake this decision was.

I arrived to the trail around 10AM. The temperature never rose above freezing that day, and 12-20 mile per hour winds were whipping around the mountain. I walked to the PA border from the parking lot, then started running south. Within just a short distance, the terrain takes a sharp turn for the worse. And by worse, I mean boulder fields. Boulder fields which happened to be covered in ice and snow. For most of the 19-mile run that day, I was participating more in a sport akin to parkour than to trail running. All I tried to do was not fall. It was miserable. I cursed this section and dreaded my return in a few weeks.

The following weekend I headed back to the AT, this time to run from Washington Monument State Park south through Gathland for a 22-mile final long-run effort. I was not in the mood to run the morning I went up there. Some pretty hard stuff was going on at work the week before, and I really hadn’t slept at all that week. Saturday rolled around and it took everything in me to get up drive.

Once I started running, I had a bit of a meltdown on the trail. At mile 4, I pulled off the trail and had a little pity party. Tears were shed. Calaculations were made: if I turned around and ran back to my car, I would have only run 8 miles on the day. Not enough for my last long run of the training cycle. I’d have to go out again, and I’d have to come back to this section. I told myself ‘just two more miles out, see how you feel’, and started running again. I didn’t feel great, but told myself ‘just another mile out, see how you feel’. And kept doing that until I turned around at mile 11.

After this last long run, my training went to pretty much zero until the 42-mile attempt. My ankle was really bothering me, shooting sharp pains that were deeply concerning. My knee was also tweaked and not in great shape. I know enough to know that you shouldn’t just push through pain, especially at the end of a training cycle. I trusted the process, and rested, and waited.

Appalachian Trail Run Fundraiser for City Kids Wilderness Project

In early April I will embark on my longest and craziest running adventure to date. I’ll be attempting to traverse the entire stretch of the Appalachian Trail in the great Old Line State, from the PA border to the WV border. For 42 miles, I’ll be putting my body to its greatest test yet. Can I run this distance in a day? Can I find the motivation to complete this effort almost entirely alone? We shall see.

This isn’t a race. It’s a completely self-motivated running effort that has kept me active throughout the long, cold COVID winter. With races canceled in 2020, and most cancelled or modified for the spring of 2021, my training has been an exercise in self-motivation. A clearing of the head. A reason to move every week.

As part of my running effort, I wanted to raise money for an organization that I see doing good in the outdoors world. Because the outdoors have done so much for me, I want to give back to an organization providing opportunities for others to also benefit from the outdoors.

City Kids Wilderness Project is a 501(c)3 organization based here in Washington, DC. City Kids uses the power of outdoor experiences to help arm the youth of DC with the skills and resources they need to set goals and work towards achieving their dreams.

Here is an overview of City Kids. I hope you consider donating to my fundraiser: https://www.facebook.com/donate/3903392459780876/

Since 1996, City Kids has been serving youth from DC. Their founder started City Kids as an experiential program to teach children how to be prepared for life beyond learning possible in a traditional classroom. City Kids provides DC youth with life changing opportunities to help them learn, grow, and build the skills they need to set goals and work towards their dreams.

City Kids enrolls 20 new 6th graders every year and supports them through a six year or longer process to realize their individual potential, and to set and begin to implement individualized future goals. During the school year they are based in DC and provide after school and weekend outdoor adventure programming as well as job training and college preparation programming. In the summer they move to Jackson, WY where they run three sessions of summer camp, as well as career exploration and job training programming for the older youth.

They use experiential education and outdoor adventure experiences as a lab to help children learn the values of plan, prepare, proceed, and to build their resiliency, broaden their sense of personal possibility, and to build the skills they need to work well with others as both team leaders and team members.

Age cohorts move from Rangers & Mountaineers (age 11-13, focus on self-reliance, personal responsibility, and sociability), Elite (age 14-15, focus on sense of possibility and perseverance), Leadership (age 15-16, focus on leadership and life skills), and Job Experience Training (age 15-18, positive vision for the future, career exploration). Outdoor activities throughout the years includes backpacking, canoeing, horseback riding, backcountry hiking, exploration of historical and cultural exhibits, week-long kayaking trips, white water rafting, 24-hour solo trips, rock climbing, and more.

The youth then transfer what they learn from these experiences to their real lives to help them pursue academic, career, and personal achievements. In the past three years, over 95 percent of their high school youth have graduated, in comparison, DC has less than a 65 percent graduation rate.

Learn more about City Kids programs, here: https://citykidsdc.org/program-overview/

Donate to my fundraiser, here: https://www.facebook.com/donate/3903392459780876/

Ultramarathon Aid Station Cookie Recipe

For most of the pandemic, I’ve enjoyed doing a ~whole lot of nothing~. As 2020 wound down, however, I started to get an itch to do something, anything really.

Inspired by a cookie exchange we did at work (bake a bunch of cookies, mail them to a colleague), I signed up for a baking class with Christina Tosi of Milk Bar. This virtual class is meant to teach us the science of baking cookies, pies, and cakes. I’ve loved baking since I was in high school, and have always wanted to have a firmer grasp on the process itself – how ingredients play together, etc.

This class is two parts – the first is baking alongside Christina (virtually) using her famous recipes. In this case, we were making the Cornflake Chocolate Chip Marshmallow Cookie, the Milk Bar Pie, and the Milk Bar Birthday Cake. The second part is making our own recipes, inspired by a personal flavor story.

For the cookie recipe, I decided to make a cookie inspired by an ultramarathon aid station. For me, aid stations invoke strong emotions and equally strong food connections. While some people like to go for the crazy foods at aid stations, I keep my aid station consumption very routine – salty pretzels and m&m’s are my go-to. I wanted to see if I could make an original cookie recipe building off that foundation, and spent a week thinking about, testing, and perfecting my very first original cookie recipe.

I’ve shared the recipe below and look forward to tweaking and strengthening it more as I get stronger as a baker! Let me know if you make this recipe, and if you have suggestions on tweaks or refinements!

Ultramarathon Aid Station Cookie Recipe

Pretzel Dough

2 sticks butter

150g Light brown sugar

250g Dark brown sugar

1 egg

2g dark vanilla extract

190g flour

120g mini pretzels

4g baking powder

3g baking soda

5g salt

8g sea salt

125g M&M’s

60g Honey

Pretzel Crunch

100g mini pretzels

60g Brown sugar

25g sugar

100g Butter

30g Milk powder

Make the Pretzel Crunch

Preheat oven to 275. Take pretzels and crunch them with your hands until they are about ¼ the size. Mix in sugars and milk powder. Toss. Melt butter and pour over pretzel mixture until small clumps begin to form and butter is well incorporated. Spread out on cookie sheet with parchment paper and bake for 20 minutes. Broil for 2 minutes at the end, watching closely to ensure pretzels don’t burn. Mixture should come out dry and crunchy at the end. Set aside.

Make the Pretzel Dough

In a stand mixer, mix together butter and sugars for 3 minutes on medium-high. Scrape down sides. Add in egg and vanilla extract, and continue mixing for 7 minutes, scraping down sides occasionally. Scrape down sides when finished mixing.

While the mixer works, prepare your dry ingredients. In a food processor, finely chop mini pretzels until it resembles a finely ground flour. Transfer to medium sized mixing bowl and add in regular flour. In a smaller bowl, measure out baking powder, baking soda, salt and sea salt. Combine with flours and mix thoroughly.

Combine dry ingredients with butter and sugar mixture in stand mixer. Mix until just combined. Do not over mix.

Add in pretzel crunch, m&ms and honey, and mix until combined. Consider using a spatula for final mixing.

Chill dough for 1 hour.

Bake the Cookies

Preheat oven to 375F. Line baking sheets with parchment paper.

Using a 2.75 inch scoop, scoop dough onto baking trays. Bake for 15 minutes, checking to ensure even baking. Cookies should have a light golden-brown color when baked through.

Cool and enjoy!

Respecting our Public Lands

Stepping outside my front door for a run on any given day, a couple of things are often immediately observable. First, I live on a block of tightly packed duplexes, in a neighborhood full of duplexes. There is a large apartment complex that adjoins our local metro station, housing hundreds of neighbors. You can hear the trains going back and forth from our front porch, including metro, Marc commuter trains, and CSX freight. Across the rail tracks is a bulk trash transfer station, and up the road is a cement company. Down the street is a massive hospital complex that recently tore down several acres of trees for no apparent reason. And near the hospital, a huge swath of green space is being developed for dozens of townhomes.

Despite the challenges of the built environment, my neighborhood also has beautiful swaths of green space, protected by the National Park Service. A narrow strip of green land runs through the community, protecting historical resources vital to the defenses of Washington in a time long past. This land, while not developed for formal recreation, does provide for great green space for touch football games, dog runs, and the occasional picnic. They provide tree canopy and rainwater absorption capacity. They pump out oxygen into our atmosphere, and pull down carbon dioxide. These lands are part of the broad Rock Creek Park complex, which houses hundreds of acres of public lands throughout our beautiful city.

Rock Creek Park itself was established in 1890 as one of the earliest National Parks in our nation. Bounding the Rock Creek stream valley, the Park boasts hiking trails, paved paths, a roadway, visitors center, horse center, community gardens, an old historic mill, a golf course, an historic amphitheater, and more.

On any given weekend, you can find hundreds, if not thousands of people recreating throughout the park system. Hiking, running, horseback riding, picnicking and the like. The park provides so many benefits for the present-day humans in our community, while simultaneously protecting the environment and preserving some key historical feature.

For the most part, visitors seem to take care of the park as best I can tell. But last weekend, while out on a trail run, I ran into some folks who were not abiding by park rules and got nasty with me when I flagged them for it.

Understanding our Trails

The National Park Service mission is to preserve unimpaired the natural and cultural resources and values of the National Park System for the enjoyment, education, and inspiration of this and future generation. Trails crisscross many national park units and are often the best way to immerse yourself in nature, culture, and stunning beauty.

By and large, however, there are restrictions on the types of activities you can do while on trail. Walking and hiking are pretty much universally allowed on designated trails throughout the system. Activities that deviate from the human powered to the mechanical is where consideration must be paid. In many cases, this includes restrictions on human powered bicycles and certainly means restrictions on motorized vehicles.

Restrictions on types of use exist because of the fragile nature of ecosystems that the parks themselves are striving to protect. Even human feet can cause grave damage to these systems, especially in parks where visitation is sky high and the ground is delicate, fragile or otherwise sensitive to disturbance.

Here in the Rock Creek Park complex, foot traffic over time tends to expand the core established trail, creating erosion problems and trail creep which jeopardizes the immediate surrounding habitat. This can happen for many reasons – people seeking to avoid roots step sideways on the trail into leaf covered area. Over time, more and more people do the same, and eventually that leads to an expanded path. Debris on the trail can result in the same thing – a downed tree, branches on the trail, or other obstructions may result in people stepping beyond the bounds of the trail, thus creating expansion.

Climate change is also causing issues – especially when it comes to increased rainfall – in both amount of precipitation annually, and also the severity of specific rain events at a single moment in time. Erosion of our trails is significant here in DC. I’ve watched certain parts of the Rock Creek Park trail system continuously erode away, only to be backfilled with dirt and rock, to wash away again in the next big storm. Water bars help somewhat, but with major rain events, they are not match for the torrents of water that cut through hillsides and carve out valleys in our trails.

Respecting Our Trails

In Rock Creek Park, our trails are restricted to human foot traffic, and in certain areas, the occasional horse. Bikes are prohibited from dirt trails, and only allowed on the paved surfaces that are abundant throughout the system.

I was thus appalled last weekend when I was out on a trail run, and saw a pair of mountain bikers barreling towards me down the Western Ridge Trail near Picnic Area 16.

I shouted out to the bikers ‘no bikes on trail’ and kept running. It’s not my job to police the park, but it is my job, as a responsible steward of our public lands, to remind public land users of what is and is not allowed on trails.

After I shouted out the trial rules, I was then verbally berated by one of the riders. ‘Where do you get your information from? AllTrails says we can ride these trails. You just don’t want us here!’

I didn’t engage. Maybe I should have, and talked with them about responsible park stewardship and checking what uses are an are not allowed on public lands. But it’s a global pandemic and I was 8 miles in to a trail run, and just didn’t have the mental capacity to jeopardize getting close to them, risking having the group of hikers I had just passed who were not wearing masks catch up to us, and frankly, I was tired.

Leave No Trace

I’m writing this blog today though, because personal stewardship is vitally important if we want our public lands to be intact long into the future. Checking the park guidance documents, and the types of uses allowed and not allowed, before you are out on trail, is vitally important. Reading the signs on the trailheads, reading park manuals, talking with a park ranger. These are all ways to learn what you can and can’t do on our public lands and should be done if you have any questions at all, and frankly if you plan to do anything beyond walk. And this planning is just step one to being a responsible steward.

I’m blessed to live in a city that has such incredible access to green space and hiking and running trails. The escape it provides from the hustle and bustle of crowded city living is a beautiful reminder of the importance it is to protect those places. Please, join me in stewarding our lands, and being responsible consumers of nature.

Here are some resources if you want to learn more:

• Rock Creek Park Rules and Regulations: https://www.nps.gov/rocr/planyourvisit/rules-and-regulations.htm

• Leave No Trace Principles https://lnt.org/why/7-principles/

Finding Hope: 2020 Recap and 2021 Goals

I sit here, at the end of 2020 - a year most would argue was downright horrible - with my eyes set of 2021.

There were a lot of things I failed to do in 2020. I know it’s not good to dwell on the failures, but I don’t necessarily count my missed goals this year as failure. For so many of us, surviving was the number one priority. And survive, I thankfully did.

At the start of the year, before coronavirus took over our lives, I was in the tail end of physical therapy, recovering from an ankle break. I was cleared to start running in February, and immediately planned for greatness. Ever the ambitious planner, 2020 was going to be my year. I was going to start with short spring trail races to get back in the groove - 10k, halfs, maybe a 25k here or there. Then by fall, I’d be back to peak fitness and ready to add distance. I wanted to push my 50k efforts - either with vert or speed. And I toyed with the idea of running the JFK 50 miler as my first 50 in November.

Outside of the running goals, I had many outdoor adventure goals as well. I was finally settling in to my leadership role with an awesome group of outdoor women here in DC - wild wilderness women - leading urban hikes once a month and finding my community I had been longing for for so long. I led two hikes before the world shut down, and had grand plans for more hikes to come - little urban adventures here in the heart of the city, to introduce women to trails if they were wholly new to hiking, or show my fellow outdoor lovers the ropes of city hiking with a group of women that provided a safety net for the weary urban warrior. I couldn’t wait to see where 2020 led me with this group. I have had such a hard time finding a community in DC, and these women finally felt like home. It was all taken away too quickly in March.

Leading a hike with Wild Wilderness Women in February 2020. This hike took us to the Capitol Stones in Rock Creek Park, and was my last hike I led before coronavirus shut everything down here in DC

When coronavirus first took hold, and the world went into shutdown, I used running as my escape. In May, combined with a distance challenge my work had going to encourage members to get out (safely) into the watershed we work to protect, I logged well over 100 miles. Socially distanced running was my escape from the otherwise stationary life that I now lived. Gone were the 6 mile bike commutes in the mornings to wake me up and strengthen my legs. Gone were the mile walks to the metro. Gone was …. everything really.

I hired a running coach in late June to help me try and run a solo marathon. Things went great at first, and he was an absolutely phenomenal asset for me through the very end of our time together this fall. With his support, I started building speed through intentional workouts - something I haven’t done in a long time. I was held accountable to slow my pace to support long-term health, especially for my injury prone body. I was hitting all my marks through mid-September, but then *wham*. I just lost motivation. Nothing could inspire me to lace up my running shoes. I just didn’t have the willpower to get up and get out. I sat at home, wishing I could go running, but not wanting to take the first step necessary to actually do so. 2020, man.

New year, new me

While 2020 was on some accounts an utter failure on the one hand, the mere fact that I am here to write about how upset I am for not meeting my goals articulates an utter privilege of health and economic status I am remiss to underscore. I am so grateful for everything I have and so grateful that I have the ability to project forward into next year with a glimmer of hope and optimism. For so many, that is not a reality.

As I do look into 2021, there are some major life milestones ahead of me. I turn 30 this coming year. We have our wedding 2.0 (we were supposed to get married in 2020, and actually did, but postponed the big party a year because of covid). At the end of the year, I have some travel booked for a dear friends wedding in Costa Rica. I’m hopeful for growth at work. And I’m hopeful that the world will return to some semblance of stability, enough to afford me the opportunity to reunite with my dear wild wilderness women, and begin to rebuild my community here in DC.

As for running - I’m taking my goal setting one season at a time this year. I’m looking forward to just my 30th birthday as a goal benchmark - early April. From now til then, I am training intentionally for a very meaningful solo effort. I plan to run the length of the Maryland portion of the Appalachian trail from Pen Mar to Harpers Ferry. 40-42 miles depending on who you talk to and how you measure. A manageable distance, but the greatest distance I will have ever covered, especially solo.

This actual solo run won’t be the hard part though - as any good runner truly knows. The mental gymnastics I will have to go through to convince my body to get up each morning and go for a run is the real challenge. I’m determined to make it work - and I’m determined to not beat myself up if I let workouts slip.

To hold myself accountable, I am hoping to be more active here on this blog. I might talk through training, maybe gear, maybe my struggles to get out the door. I will probably talk a bit about why I chose the MD AT as my solo goal. I might not post every week, but I hope to document the highs and the lows of returning to training in the middle of a pandemic, in the middle of winter.

For now, good riddance 2020. I welcome the light of hope that is 2021.

Race Review: Blues Cruise 50k

As I rounded a turn at the base of a downhill section, corn fields stretching to my left and woods to my right, I felt a twinge on the back of my right leg. “Ouch!” I thought. I felt a second twinge. Grabbing at my leg, I batted away the attacker, a bee with an inferiority complex. Just my luck.

The Blues Cruise 50K ultramarathon this past weekend was full of highs and lows – an incredible race, well-marked and well organized, with environmental factors outside of any race directors control dictating the general commentary of the race this year.

It was ‘hot’ and humid – 80 degrees in early October, with 100% humidity at the start. I went into the race with the mindset that I had trained in much worse throughout the summer, so I was prepared for whatever might be thrown at me. What I wasn’t prepared for was a bee sting, and how that sting would shake my entire race plan early on in the race.

The Start

Chris and I stayed in a hotel about 15 minutes from the race start the night before, so that we didn’t have to make the 2.5 hour drive the morning before. We feasibly could have done that, since this race starts at a very comfortable 8:30AM. I haven’t started this late for a race in a very long time. Based on the day’s weather, I wish we had a bit of an earlier start to avoid the heat of the early afternoon sun, but I can’t complain about leisurely waking up at 6AM and extending out my morning race prep routine for a full 1.5 hours, which included a lot of extra hydration and caffeination.

When we got to the race start area, we headed straight to packet pick-up, which didn’t have any line when I showed up! We grabbed my bib and race swag and headed back to the car to drop it off. I made a pitstop at the bathroom, and then headed up to the starting line to get ready. A 8:30, we were off to the races.

The First 9 Miles

The Blues Cruise is a 30.something mile race around Blue Marsh Lake in Pennsylvania. Each year, the course changes directions, with even years running clockwise around the lake. The clockwise direction is considered the ‘easier’ route, because you get the climbing and major hills out of the way in the first 20-miles, rather than saving all those hills for the final miles of the race, which the counter-clockwise years do.

I had an incredible race the first 9-miles. I was cruising along, crushing miles at a sub-11 pace, which is quick for me on trail. I felt strong, I felt relaxed. The first few miles were relatively flat with rolling hills that were completely manageable. I navigated around some clusters of crowding and found my groove with a handful of fellow runners, each trading off passing and leading the small pack.

As we came down the hill at mile 9, the course takes a sharp u-turn and prepares to send us back up another hill. As I rounded the bend and kicked into the flat straight-away before the next hill, I felt the bee sting me. It got it’s stinger straight through my running shorts, right on one of the seams near the bottom. I began to panic.

I haven’t been stung by a been in over a decade – and I had no idea if in that time I developed an allergy. My roommate in college developed an allergy for bees as she got older, and we realized it when she got stung an at ultimate frisbee tournament sophomore year. I got to ride in the ambulance with her to the hospital, where she was treated for said allergy. Needless to say, my mind was racing.

Once I was certain I wasn’t going to die from anaphylactic shock, a new concern set it. My toes were tingly, my leg was burning, and I could feel it swelling up.

Miles 10 through 20

I chose to ignore the bee sting as much as I could. I kept playing in my mind the several songs I had purposefully set in my head, focusing on the music in my mind to try and distract from the nervous pain I was feeling. I kept it up through mile 12, and then backed off the pace a bit to make sure I wasn’t overcompensating on my other leg.

The hills at this point were rolling and steeper – we had some solid climbs that required good power hiking. I was happy to have these moments to hike, and recollect myself and reassess my leg. All was going as OK as I could hope for, but certainly not as good as the first 9-miles. My race, in my mind, was slipping from me.

Tragedy struck me at mile 14. On a downhill, my leg all of a sudden gave out from under me. My right knee was experiencing some sort of strange discomfort and pain I had never felt before. I assume it was related to the swelling and pain from the bee sting – my leg was still tingling a bit and visibly swollen. I couldn’t run downhill anymore, the pain was too much. This was devastating to me, because my strength is in my downhill running. My mind started collapsing with my body – losing faith that I would even be able to finish at this point.

I texted my boyfriend as I was climbing one of the hills, and desperately asked him to bring Advil to the next aid station at mile 17, which he already planned to meet me at. I told him I was in pain and needed something to help with the swelling. Tears welled in my eyes for just a moment, then I shook myself off, knowing that relief was just a few miles in front of me.

I rolled into aid station 4, which was at the top of a hill, grabbed Gatorade, downed an Advil, kissed Chris, and got back to work. Right after the aid, we cross a road, and start climbing again. I took my time here, hoping that the medicine would do it’s job.

The stretch between Aid 4 and Aid 5 are arguably the hardest on the course, in my mind at least. This section is where we see our steepest climb. As we climbed to the top of the hill at Mile 20, all I could think about was the dread of going downhill – a foreign concept to me, except for in this race. I LOVE running downhill, but I had to walk this one – a long, steep section that was pounding on my knee. I could tell the Advil was setting in at this point though, as my knee wasn’t too bad but I was not willing to push it.

Needless to say, this 10-mile section was my least favorite of the course, though on any other day, I think I would have loved it. A great mix of hills and rolling fields that will challenge and entice any trail runner.

Mile 21 through 30

I saw Chris again at Aid 5 – he parked on the other side of the road and cheered me on as I crossed the bridge and headed into a flat section of the course.

From Mile 21 to Mile 26, the hills let up and allowed me to kick my pace back up a bit. The Advil was doing its job at this point, and I was feeling a surge of strength and hope that I thought I had lost many miles ago.

I kicked along the course, getting my speed back up to almost what it was on the first section of the course. I felt strong, I felt good.

From mile 26 through the end, the hills came back, and sections of the course opened up in corn fields, exposed to the sun and the heat. I honestly hated this whole section of the course – and desperately wanted to race to be over.

I commiserated with a fellow runner as we climbed a steep hill in this section. What happened to flat and easy!? My solace was knowing we only had a few more miles to go.

At mile 29, I kicked into higher gear, ready to be done. I felt the pull of the finish line in front of me. As my fellow runners hiked up the final hill, I surged past them, power hiking up to the top and then cruising down the road towards the finish. I saw Chris and then kicked in, crossing at 6:15, a solid 30-minutes faster than I have run an ultra before.

The Finish

With all the trials and tribulations of this race, it was an incredible experience and one I might consider doing again one day. As I passed through the finish line, I was informed I placed 3rd in my age group, and was handed a finishers paddle as an award!

WOW is all I can say to that. I knew going into the race that I had the potential to do well in my age group, but never thought an age group award was a possibility. How cool.

Chris met me with our camping chair and my change of clothes, and helped me stretch and get some fluids in me. I changed, washed the mud off my legs, downed a grilled cheese, and we headed home.

I can officially say I am a 3-time ultramarathon finisher now.

Solo Adventure Series: Bryce Canyon National Park

From August 3rd through 10th, 2018, I traveled solo across Southern Utah. This blog mini-series is a snapshot of my adventure that is meant to encourage other female travelers to embrace adventure. Please reach out if you have more specific questions about my itinerary or details about my trip.

The first word I use to describe my experience at Bryce Canyon is: otherworldly.

The landscape, the colors, the geology. It is an incredible experience and one that I wish I had had more time to explore. Bryce was mind-bogglingly beautiful, jaw-dropping at times, and I had to pinch myself on several occasions to remind myself I was not dreaming of far off planets.

Getting there

My adventure to Bryce began at 4:30 in the morning. The milky way looked down upon me while I woke up in my tent – my third night of sleep officially concluded in Zion National Park.

I had packed my car, laid out my clothes and made my food the night before. I changed, brushed my teeth, packed up my tent, and 30 minutes after rising, hit the road.

The darkness was incredible.

I turned right out of the South Campground onto Route 9, sad to know my time of sleeping in national parks was over, but excited at what the day ahead would bring. About a mile into my drive, high beams coating the air in front of my car, I quickly began to climb. And climb. And climb some more.

The road through Zion, Mount Carmel Highway through the tunnel and up past Checkerboard Mesa is something that I’m kind of glad I experienced at night – if only because I didn’t have the opportunity to fully grasp how high, and how exposed, I was.

The switch backing mountain climb brings you up and over the cliffs in Zion, which based on my hiking, means around 2,000 feet – straight up. At a conservative 15 to 20 mph, I slowly crept up the mountain, thankful there were no cars behind me to rush me up. I gripped the steering wheel and prayed to whatever God oversees Zion that I would make it to the top.

Once up and over and out of Zion, the remainder of my drive to Bryce was easy and uneventful, albeit beautiful.

I pulled in to Bryce around 7:30AM, early enough to beat the official opening of the park. That meant I had easy parking at the Sunrise Overlook parking lot, first access to trails, and at least early on, beat a good portion of the crowds.

The Trails

• Hike Time: ~6 hours

• Hike Distance: ~15.5 miles

• Overall Rating: 100% would recommend, and suggest allocating some good time to explore this park.

I only had one day in Bryce, so I aimed to get in as much as I could. I hit the Navajo, Peekaboo, Queens Garden, Sunrise, and Fairyland Loops – the hikes in the uppermost section of the park. Ultimately, I hiked around 15 miles by mid-day, and suffering from a bit of heat exhaustion, called it a day.

1. Navajo, Peekaboo, Queens Garden & Sunrise Loops: These loops are all technically independent, separate trails. If you read a park guide, they are each billed independently. However, they are all connected to one another, and I would suggest that anyone planning time in this section connect them all in their minds as they plan out the trails for the day.

I started the morning heading down the Navajo Loop, going clockwise around the loop to see Thors Hammer. Dropping steeply into the canyon, the morning sunrise over the hoodoos was a spiritual moment. The deep orange of the rocks complimented by the morning orange, red and yellow sun, with shadows cast across the canyon as the sun crept higher into the sky. After a short hike down, I came to a junction in the trail, and followed the ‘connector trail’ to the Peekaboo Loop – a moderate length trail that explored the canyon beyond the rim.

Peekaboo was beautiful. I had my reservations at first, because it is billed as a highly trafficked, horse caravan route. However, thanks to my early arrival, there was neither heavy traffic nor horses. And I’m so thankful for that. I was able to stop, observe and soak in the landscape, the incredible geologic formations and panoramic views of the canyon. Only about 4 miles in length, this loop was a perfect introduction to the park, and one I would highly recommend. I took the clockwise route to this loop as well, branching off  to the left when I first came to the formal loop trail.

Coming back to the start of the Peekaboo, I headed back down the connector trail to the original junction I hit on my way down Navajo in the early morning. Instead of hitting the second half of the Navajo Loop, I continued straight along the canyon floor, to see what Queens Garden had in store. This trail was flat and fast and filling up with tourists. I powered through quickly. There was a junction in the trail maybe a mile down that I was originally not expecting (I only had a National Geographic map of the park, as the Visitors Center was not open). The junction suggested Sunrise Point was to my right, maybe .6 or so miles.

Not knowing if that was an out and back distance, or a loop, I decided to hook right and see what this had in store. The trail meandered for a bit, then began to climb, eventually taking me back up to the top of the canyon, to Sunrise Point along the Rim Trail. I stopped for some photos here, then made the .5 mile walk back to my car to rest, re-evaluate and decide my plan for the rest of the morning.

All told, these trails combined took me around 2.5 hours for the 6.2 miles. I was running out of water and starting to feel the heat and exposure of this location.

At the Parking Lot, I filled my two water bottles and my hydration bladder for a total of 4.5L of water total. I chugged my 1L bottle, headed to my car, drank a Gatorade, sat down and turned on my air conditioner for a bit.

It honestly was not that hot there, I just was feeling tired, exhausted and the dry heat was getting to me. I spent some time in my car, thinking through my options, contemplating my next hike, how far I wanted to go, and what I would do with the rest of my day.

I eventually decided to go with my original plan of hiking the Fairyland Loop, but figured I might just do an out-and-back on it, rather than the entire 8 mile loop as advertised.

2. Fairyland Loop – I headed from the parking lot back towards Sunrise Overlook and towards the junction with the Fairyland Loop Trail. I hooked right and headed down the canyon and onto the trail. Pretty quickly, I ran into another solo female traveler. She asked me to take her picture, then asked if I was planning on doing the whole loop. I told her, probably not. That comment however, sat with me, and ultimately led me to hiking the whole loop. I am thankful, and also regret, letting that comment guide my ultimate decision to do the whole loop, primarily because I was already hot and tired, and didn’t need to be doing so much hiking.

Regardless, I continued downwards, past the China Wall, which was jaw dropping, and down to Tower Bridge. At Tower Bridge is where I made my decision to keep going. After some photos, I hopped on the main trail, and instead of going back from where I came, I pushed forward. It was so hot at this point, I actually took my shirt off and hiked in just my sports bra. If you know me, you know how big of a deal this was. I was pretty self-conscious of my attire whenever I passed an occasional hiker, but it was so darned hot I couldn’t imagine putting it back on.

It was around this time that anxiety set in for me. I don’t talk a lot about my anxiety, but this experience stands out to me because of the irrational nature of it, the impact it had on my hike during the rest of this loop trail, and a recognition that my thoughts are sometimes a bit crazy.

Earlier in the morning while sitting in my car, I was trying to charge my solar charger which had not been working the whole trip. I set it on my bashboard while hiking the first loops that morning, and when I was resting, I grabbed it and tested the charge. In my mind, all I could remember was how HOT the charger was, having sat in the morning sun. That HEAT stuck, and caused me to panic while hiking. I set it back on the dash, and headed to the Fairyland Loop. While I was hiking, I had this thought that the heat was going to cause my charger to catch fire, catch my car on fire, then catch the park on fire. For 6 or so miles, this is all I could think about.

My pace per mile had averaged around 25 minutes for most of the morning. Once anxiety took over, my desire to go back and check on my car kicked my walking pace up to 17 minutes per mile at one point. I was practically jogging. I kept glancing over my shoulder to make sure plumes of smoke were not rising from the rim, and straining my ears to hear if there were emergency vehicles moving into the park to put out the blaze I knew for sure was going to be ignited from my car.

Obviously, this anxiety was irrational. But for someone who suffers from pretty extreme anxiety, compounded by being alone in a wilderness area, exhaustion and heat muddled my brain and made it worse.

I eventually made it out of the canyon to sweeping, incredible views from Sunset Point. At this point, my anxiety had dissipated to some degree (primarily because I just couldn’t keep the pace up and resigned to jail should my solar charger be the cause so burning down Southern Utah).

Walking along the top of the Rim Trail, through the pine forest, overlooking the mars-like landscape of the canyons below was breathtaking in every sense. I ate my peanut butter and jelly sandwich under a pine tree while watching birds fly over the canyon. I walked slowly, soaked in the views, and eventually returned to my car.

After taking some time to calm down after realizing jail wasn’t my destiny, Southern Utah was still standing, and my car was still in its original manifestation, I drove down the road to the main entrance of the park, stopped by the visitors center for some air conditioning, and then headed to my campsite to check-in.

The Campground

All of the National Park camp sites were booked up when I planned this trip, so I had to find a commercial location to pitch my tent. I found what I am assuming is the monopoly of RV campgrounds in the Bryce area – Ruby’s Inn – to be my resting place.

I pulled into the campground, surrounded by huge RV vans and trailers, headed to the main office and checked-in. They showed me where the individual campsites were, which I could pick out myself, and suggested I avoid the group campsites, as they were large and exposed. I drove around the gravel road that housed the tent sites, examining pros and cons of the open sites, and eventually chose a spot nestled next to a bunch of Europeans who had pitched a few tents and planted a flag of a country origin I am unsure.

I pitched my tent, then drove over to the bath house, where I enjoyed my first shower in 4 days. I was impressed by the cleanliness of the showers and bathrooms, pleased to see they had outlets in the bathroom for me to steal some charge for my phone, and felt incredibly refreshed after a nice shower.

The rest of that night was uneventful. I read my book at my picnic table for a while, headed to a gross fast food place where I had a ‘vegetable sub’ (sub roll with romaine lettuce, tomato, pickles and mayo) and French fries. I also grabbed a Sprite, which surprisingly made me feel a lot better – I guess I was lacking some fried food and sugars in my life.

I went to be pretty early that night. I wasn’t waking up early the next morning, but my body had been through a lot that day, and couldn’t handle being awake much past 8.

This was the only night on my whole trip that I regretted not bringing a sleeping bag. The temperatures that night dropped to ~45 degrees. I put on all my long clothes (long shirt, sweatshirt, Patagonia jacket and sweatpants along with socks) and curled in a ball most of the night shivering under my blanket. Pro tip: Bring something warm for the upper desert nights.

Ruby’s wasn’t horrible, but I’d like to grab a site in Bryce proper next time around. And, I’d make my own dinner next time too.

Overall Experience

INCREDIBLE

I highly recommend Bryce Canyon, and suggest to any traveler that they should spend a few days there. I only scratched the surface of the park and can’t wait to go back and see the rest.