Get a glimpse into the journey of preparing for the Hardrock 100, with 102 days to go. Explore the mix of excitement and nerves, and the dedication to training, including adding strength workouts and enlisting a coach. Join me in as I attempt to share the candid exploration of the highs and lows of training, highlighting the importance of community and self-expression.
Life is a journey filled with unexpected twists and turns, and sometimes, it takes us to places where we least expect to find ourselves. As a mountain runner and outdoor enthusiast, I've experienced my fair share of physical challenges, but there's one hurdle that proved to be even more daunting—the struggle to find inspiration and authenticity in my own identity. Join me on this rollercoaster ride as I share my story of moving from place to place, searching for purpose, and finally finding solace and inspiration in the most unexpected of places—back home in LaLa Land.
Griffith Park 📷: @thehilaryann
Life can be unpredictable, and sometimes it feels like we're running without a destination in sight. My journey into the unknown began with a bold move—leaving my 32-year home for Bend, Oregon, amidst the pandemic's peak. Jobless and friendless, I faced the daunting task of rebuilding my life in what I thought was my dream living location. As a runner, I grappled with self-doubt and struggled to articulate my feelings in these trying times. Bend found me at a low point, with unemployment, far from loved ones, and the loss of a family member to Covid, I was beyond sad. Doubts about my move were frequent. But as our house renovations slowly transformed into a reality, I knew this chapter was coming to a close, and a bright new one was waiting to be written.
With Eamon's new job and my hope for a fresh start beyond what felt like a depressive state, we set our sights on Boulder, Colorado—a city renowned for its lively outdoor community and seriously fast athletes. Surrounded by the jawdropping vista that is the flatirons, I expected to find my way, but I still felt lost. Now, trapped in a toxic workplace and lacking deep friendships, and no real motivation to be proactive in the friend making department, I longed to rediscover the Sawna I was when I was in LA. I craved authenticity, to embody the titles of "runner" and "athlete" genuinely. Strangely, the more I sought purpose, the more it seemed to slip through my fingers.
After two years of constant movement, we finally found our way back to the City of Angels—Los Angeles. After a few months of navigating the tremulous housing market and the stress that came with it, It was here that I discovered a newfound sense of balance and belonging. The familiar sights, sounds, and energy of the city breathed life into my spirit. As I navigated the bustling streets, I realized that sometimes, we have to leave home to truly appreciate what it means to belong.
Inspiration Point 📷: @thehilaryann
In the midst of the chaos that is LA, I began to reconnect with my love for running by running all my favorite local trails. These surprisingly technical dirt paths provided a sanctuary where I could reconnect with my passion and rediscover my authenticity. It wasn't about running ultras or competing with others; it was about the joy of putting one foot in front of the other, feeling the wind on my face, smelling the sweet smell of Spanish Broom (I know, I know, it’s invasive- but it smells SO GOOD) and immersing myself in the beauty of nature. And yes, it may shock you, but LA has some beautiful trails and, gasp, nature too.
It does snow in LA 📷: @thehilaryann
Finding my way back home allowed me to find a sense of peace and belonging that had eluded me for so long. Home became more than just a physical place—it became a state of mind. It was a realization that true inspiration and authenticity come from within, and it's the sum of our experiences that shape us into the athletes and individuals we aspire to be.
Buying a house in LA was MADNESS but never thought I’d call Altadena home sweet home.
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.
“Patience is not the ability to wait, but the ability to keep a good attitude while waiting.”
Riding up to Crystal Lake with my dad in tow on the motorcycle. FYI the restaurant at the top that’s always open is, in fact, closed on Tuesday.
Taken about 5 or so years ago.
Its been almost seven weeks since my ankle rolled and I heard that ever so troubling POP one mile into a race in St George, UTAH. Since then I have been practicing my patience during its snails pace recovery. A couple weeks ago my ankle was healed enough to be able to start cycling again.
This isn’t my first rodeo, let me tell you, but it sure feels like it is.
My first cycling adventure was around the local neighborhood and as I was climbing up I felt as though I would just tip over from lack of momentum- I was slow, my heart was beating right through my chest and I almost choked on my buff covering my face as I was gasping for air and it was a mere ant hill. Since that initial wake up call I’ve been finding my groove again, taking it step by step.
Last week I began riding on the San Gabriel Riverbed again. Stumbling onto the entrance of the trail I was flooded with memories of the exact trail from over 10 years ago with my dad. We rode a ton back then as he was training to cycle his first century race in Lake Tahoe. I can’t tell you if I really enjoyed cycling back then but what I can tell you is that I really enjoyed sharing the miles with my dad. Those many- many moons ago I didn’t know of Strava- did it even exsist? I didn’t have a data collector gps Suunto watch on my wrist. All I had was my dad to tell me “We are going straight” and when I’d ask for how long his reply would be “Until I say it’s time to turn around”. I had no idea where we were going but I was always up for the ride.
Since stumbling onto the riverbed last week, I somehow convinced my dad to dust off the bike and share a few miles with me. After years of begging him, all it took was a few weeks of COVID-19 shelter in place with my mom and sisters to jump at the opportunity to get out of the house, mask included of course. We’ve ridden twice together so far and I couldn’t be more proud of his enthusiasm to get back on the saddle even on days that I do not ride with him- 75 years young and all. A couple of decades since first riding together, we spun down the San Gabriel riverbed once again. On our first ride we visited my Abuelito and said hello from a safe distance. My Abuelito will be turning 100 years young in less than two months and I can’t wait to be able to safely celebrate his birthday sometime soon-ish.
Patience.
Oh how I’ve practice my patience. After almost 7 weeks (this Saturday) of being off my foot(literally not being able to walk the first two weeks), I’m ready to get back to running. With first spraining my ankle and then the safer at home quarantine, I’ve been going quite stir crazy. The first couple of weeks were spent feeling rather helpless, not being able to do a simple task like walking Juniper or walk normal period. The pity party didn’t last too long and I began to seek out things I could manage until my foot regained mobility. Unfortunately feet stink, literally and figuratively. It’ll take time to build again using strength, mobility and balance exercises. I’m thankful to even have a bike to ride! My road bike was my dad’s old bike he gave to me when I was 18, and I also have a somewhat new gravel bike. Cycling is expensive, no doubt, but thankful to have most of the gear necessary to just be outside. I struggle with comparing my running ability to my cycling strengths, or lack of. Something that’s been a constant challenge is learning to be kind to myself as I embark in a new sport, or re introducing a sport I have been inactive in for sometime.
I’ll let you know how it goes.
Any tips, tricks or words of encouragement are always welcome.
S
Walking the dog
My dad practicing walking the dog YEARS before I adopted Juniper. All that practice has come to good use for when his granddoggie comes to visit while I’m out of town.
Photo taken October 13th 2010
