Life has a way of tossing us down unexpected paths, doesn’t it? One moment you’re sure of where you’re headed, and the next thing you know, you’ve veered off-course into territory you never saw coming. As a mountain runner and outdoor devotee, I’ve tackled my fair share of physical challenges. But there’s one that threw me for a loop even more—staying true to myself and finding genuine inspiration when I felt lost.

So buckle up for this rollercoaster ride: a tale of hopping from one place to the next in search of purpose, only to discover that the real spark was waiting for me back where I least expected… home in LaLa Land.

Life can be unpredictable… sometimes it feels like we’re sprinting toward a finish line that doesn’t even exist. For me, that sense of running in circles showed up the moment I packed up my life of 32 years and headed to Bend, Oregon, right in the thick of the pandemic. I had no job, no friends, and a whole lot of nerves, but I clung to this idea that I was finally moving to my dream town. As a runner, though, self-doubt hit me at every turn, and I couldn’t always find the words to describe how lost I felt.

Bend arrived at a low point: I was unemployed, far from my loved ones, and grieving a family member who passed from COVID, talk about being knocked down. I questioned my decision more times than I’d like to admit. But as our house renovations slowly turned from a construction zone into a home, I realized that this messy chapter was about to end—and a brighter, brand-new one was waiting for me just around the bend.

With Eamon’s new job lined up and my desperate need to shake off what felt like an ongoing depressive fog, we headed for Boulder, Colorado, land of high-energy outdoor vibes and seriously speedy athletes. With the Flatirons towering overhead, I thought, “Yes, this is it. I’ll finally find my way.” Spoiler alert: I still felt lost.

Now, stuck in a toxic workplace, short on friendships, and lacking any real motivation to change that, I found myself missing the old Sawna I was back in LA… the one who felt authentic, who owned the titles “runner” and “athlete” like it was second nature. Strangely enough, the harder I chased that sense of purpose, the more it slipped right through my fingers.

After two whirlwind years on the move, we finally made our way back to the City of Angels- Los Angeles. Let me tell you, wrestling with this housing market was anything but a walk in the park, and I can easily say it was the most stressful time of my life so far, but somehow in the midst of all that stress, I stumbled upon a fresh sense of balance and belonging. The city’s familiar sights, sounds, and endless energy breathed life back into me. And as I found myself retracing old streets, it hit me: sometimes you really do have to leave home to understand what “home” even means.

In the midst of the usual LA chaos, I found myself reconnecting with my love for running by exploring all my favorite local trails and some of my all time favorite mountains. These surprisingly technical dirt and rocky single track trails became my little sanctuary, somewhere I could rediscover my passion and tap back into my authentic self. It wasn’t about chasing ultras or trying to outrun everyone; it was simply about placing one foot in front of the other, feeling the breeze against my face, and breathing in the sweet fragrance of Spanish Broom (yes, I’m fully aware it’s invasive… but it smells amazing). And, shockingly enough, LA does have some gorgeous trails and, dare I say it, actual nature. Who knew? But of all the places I’ve ever visited and all the places I’ve ever lived, there is no place like my home trails.

You know, there’s just something about coming back to where it all began… my roots, my history, that finally gave me that elusive sense of peace and belonging. Turns out “home” isn’t some random pin on a map, but a whole mindset. And somewhere between all the hustle and the trail dust, I realized true inspiration and authenticity aren’t out there in someone else’s story; they start right here, in my own.

Because it’s our experiences, the highs, the lows, the glorious finishes, and the epic faceplants, that shape us into the athletes and humans we want to be. Altadena was never technically my “home,” but it’s where I first fell in love with trail running over a decade ago. I couldn’t really afford it, but living in Altadena was always the dream: being right next to those trails that hold a million special memories, and now creating new ones with Eamon, Juniper, and now Aspen. It’s a dream I’m finally living, and wow, does it feel good.

Life's journey often takes us on unexpected detours, challenging our sense of identity and purpose. As a mountain runner and outdoor enthusiast, my search for authenticity led me to new places and experiences. Through it all, I discovered that true inspiration comes from within and that sometimes, we need to return to our roots to find our true selves. So, embrace the journey, explore the unknown, and remember that sometimes the greatest adventure lies in finding your way back home.