My sweet child and me.

My kids both used to struggle with changes. New school year, new camp, new anything was a little tough and needed some extra love and support during those times. It has been a while since I have noticed they needed this extra support, them being nearly 13 and nearly 16. This week though I noticed my youngest might have been struggling.

We were on our way home from lunch after his camp was over and he just seemed off. Being an empath I am extra sensitive to this and I consider it my superpower. When I am right and the person confides in me it is an honor and assures me that this ability truly is a gift. 

So I said it seemed like he had something on his mind and wondered if he wanted to talk about it. After a few I am fines he said he just didn't want to talk about it. Not wanting to push too much I backed off. Although now I knew my sense was right, and that something was bothering him.

You see this was a particularly hard week for me. I experienced a couple of really brutal rejections. I won't go into the details not to be intentionally vague but instead because it doesn't really have much to do with this story. Basically I threw myself into the arena and it did not end the way I hoped it would.

I saw this post on Instagram and as an Enneagram 4 it really resonates with me. I process (i.e. overthink) my rejections not as a way not to control the situation (maybe?🤔) but mostly to truly try to process my feelings. This processing happens a lot when I run.

I always know I will get to that last step of knowing the meaning behind the experience but if I don't go through this processing it can become weeks of darkness and shame, with an unbelievable amount of negative self-talk. 

I was pretty stuck in that first one. I know myself well enough to know that I would get to that last piece of finding meaning eventually but I sure was hanging out in that "intense emotional processing" aka "overthinking" place for a while. 

After backing off on the conversation with my kiddo for a few minutes I looked over at my boy and took a chance. I said:

"Do you know what shame is?

"Oh sure. It's when... well... it's actually hard to describe."

"Yes it is hard to describe. I think of it as when we do or experience something embarrassing and that we are ashamed of."

He nodded.

I went on and channeled Brene Brown's work, "Do you know what's crazy about shame? We think that by being quiet and holding it in that we are staying safe. Maybe staying safe from further embarrassment and more shame that could come from telling someone what happened. But the thing about shame is that when it is silenced it spirals. When we hold it in it goes deeper and deeper into our minds and can rip us apart. The thing about shame is that it cannot survive in the wild. When we share our shame with a trusted person it shrinks and lightens. It's the opposite of what we think."

"I think I better talk about it then."

He went on to tell me what was on his mind. Like the details around my struggles this week it isn't really important. What is important is that this sweet boy in my car was struggling internally and it was eating his gentle heart alive.

He is a deeply feeling highly emotional kid, which is one of my favorite things about him because he reminds me so much of me. But in this world we live in, people with these types of big beautiful emotions are at risk of so much hurt and rejection. It's what causes us to armor our hearts and be terrified to risk the thought of going through that feeling again. We close off the world and those who mean the most to us out of fear and self-protection. I do not want this for my boy. I do not want him stuffed down into his darkness and shame. 

It is through the sharing of the hurt and shame that we feel that frees us. After this talk with my son I called a dear friend who listened intently, validated my feelings, gave me some requested advice and even challenged some of my thought patterns and viewpoints.

The conversation was the final step for me to be able to accept that these rejections have meaning and are either keeping me on or putting me on the path to where my story will go next. Were it not for my friend I may not have made it to that place. At least not as quickly. I am not sure about doubling down on my uniqueness. Maybe that's what this blog is for 😄

After he shared with me what had happened, and I validated his feelings around the rejection he experienced, he said to me:

"I imagine it was probably for the best, and I can trust that it wasn't meant to be."

Way to find that meaning in the experience, buddy.

I also wonder if perhaps his drumming helps him process his feelings like my running does! 

We are cut from the same cloth, my sweet child and me 💖

I'd better go see.

I'm a story teller at heart. I love connecting with others through the telling of stories especially about my various adventures. A kind coworker asked me how I was doing today, and really wanted to know, especially about my running and physical activity. So I told her about my newest adventure. 

Rock climbing. 

My first time climbing.

This could be as high as I got.

So the story begins maybe a year ago when my buddy started climbing and asked me to join. I wasn’t interested in adding another time consuming activity into my week so I passed. While I was in the midst of some hard trail training I think I was also reluctant to try something new. Trying a new physical activity is a very vulnerable thing. Being willing to suck at something for a while is tough, and I’m learning that I need to be in a pretty good headspace to take something like this on. I said no to my friend’s invitation. For a long time. 

Fast forward to the last 6 weeks post DNF and while I already feel like my body sucks at everything why not prove it by trying something new? Hahaha 

I went with my friend 2-3 times and at the end of the last time I said something along the lines of “I don’t think I like it”. I wasn’t ready to give up yet but I was close. 

Then last Friday morning I went for a run and it felt amazing. I’m slowly getting back to running and while the Friday run was short it was a good solid run. I knew my friend and I were going to climb later that night so I spent the run visualizing myself climbing to the top of the rock wall really strong. I actually pictured it in my head and decided that I would take one step at a time, stay out of my head and was going to make myself push through the fear. 

That lasted only about few hours 😂

By the afternoon I had lost all of that confidence. I again questioned if I could really do it and wouldn’t I get half way up and freeze again? My hands will hurt. It’s too much disappointment. I suck at it. All of this negativity screaming so loudly inside my head. 

There was a point when I was texting my friend about meeting up that I actually typed “or we can just wait until tomorrow to go” but I didn’t send that text. I hit the back button and instead finalized our plans.

We made it to the climbing gym and I was both fearful and determined. Armed this time with my own equipment and new-to-me shoes. After watching my friend climb to the top of a wall I clipped myself into that wall shown above and started climbing. I took one step at a time, one hand, one foot, one climb and before I knew it I was higher up than I had ever been. 

Then I tried another wall, and another. And another. All of them the same. One step, one hand, one foot, one climb at a time. Breathe. Don’t forget to breathe. Make it to the top.

As we were leaving we decided to try the 2-story wall. My friend climbed to the top as I watched. I needed to get home to the kids but I saw the red course and said I wanted to try it before we left. 

I climbed it one step, one hand, one foot, one climb. Breathe. One step at a time and before I knew it I was at the top. It was intoxicating. 

I was chatting with another friend this week and he was bragging on his life partner and how she is always fearful and does things anyway. This is so me. I’m afraid of everything. I’ve always been the worst case scenario thinker which has disrupted my natural enthusiasm to live an adventurous life. I have to make myself do the thing.

Many of the cliches I’ve shared have been what I need to hear. Do the thing that scares me. Do it scared. Life begins in the other side of our comfort zone. On the other side of fear is where the magic happens. 

For me, whatever I’m looking for might just be at the top of that rock wall.

I'd better go see. 

On my way up the 2-story wall

The top of the red route 💖

Taking a Long Hard Look

It’s been 10 days since I toed the start line for my 3rd attempt to finish the LOViT 100-mile foot race. I’ve been debating whether to even write this out, since every time I begin to write it in my mind it always sounds like I’m making excuses for not finishing. That’s right, for the third time I failed to finish this race. I could list all of the reasons out but in reality, my whole race was a shit show from the start, and the short story is that I quit. I made it 72 miles but if I’m honest I quit long before that. 

I’ve chatted with my closest people about this and have taken some time to process the extreme disappointment, both in the race and in myself, and have made peace with this race and am ready to put it behind me. 

We sign up for these races to finish for sure, but the hope is that is not all we gain from these experiences. If we sign up to finish and we don’t, and we wallow in our sadness and despair swearing off these big races forever, what good becomes of that? I went to a pretty dark place this week, darker than the last few times this happened. I sign up for these races to learn about who I am deep down inside. Nothing strips away the facade of a seemingly perfect life than facing the reality that comes along with staring down a distance that’s just out of reach. 

Perhaps the journey comes with all the things we need to learn whether we finish or not. How often do we hold a mirror up to ourselves and truly try to understand why we do the things we do and explore what it really is that is standing in the way of us meeting our goals. 100 mile races hold that mirror right up in my face and say, see that? That’s you stripped down. You think you’re strong? Take a look at the parts that hide under that strong exterior. Take a long hard look.

So instead of listing the reasons I didn’t finish I’m going to list the things I learned during this race. 

• One can simply have a really bad race day. 
• I can outrun blister pain. 
• The bad news is that no one is coming to save me. The good news is that I can learn how to save myself. 
• Caffeine is a magic pill for me. 
• I need to learn how my body processes salt, electrolytes and fuel while racing. 
• My friends will always show up for me. Always. 
• Nate loves me, even when I feel the most unlovable. My phone died at the race and when I stopped at 72 my friend handed me my charged phone and I saw a text from him that simply said “I love you ❤️” He didn’t know I had stopped so in that moment where I felt physically and mentally defeated, I felt loved. And whether I finish a race or not he will always see me as lovable.
• I have accomplished things in this life that are more impactful than finishing 100 miles will ever be. 
• And finally, while I may not ever finish a 100-mile race, I will certainly never finish a race that I am too afraid to start. 

The right kind of hard.

 

Chat GPT says that “The word ‘quit’ originated from the Old English word ‘cwitten,’ which means ‘to acquit’ or ‘to set free’. It later evolved to mean ‘to leave’ or ‘to stop doing something’.”

I have quit two jobs in the last year…one that lasted about 8 months and this part-time one that lasted about a month. Never have I ever quit a job after just one month. I knew the job wasn’t for me, and while I let the last one that wasn’t for me drag on and on, I had no intention of doing that to myself this time. One could say I quit two jobs this year. One could also say I tried out two things that stretched me out of my comfort zone. Both things are true. Either way it is all an adventure of this lifetime.

The news of me quitting was met with empathy and compassion from one boss, and with hostility and aggression from another. As I sat on the screen watching this person be forcefully angry with me over what this decision means for them, I stood in my confidence and while my voice was shaking I spoke my truth and said “I am confident in my decision and know this is the right thing for me.” And I resisted my feeling of needing to apologize.

While I did quit, I feel as though I am set free. I have learned what I needed to learn from this experience and am ready to move on.

Last week, as a part of my other part-time job, I visited a woman in the hospital who is dying. There is no question that she will die soon, when her frail body weakened by illness decides that it is time. As I sat with her and held her delicate hand, I stared at her fingers. We spoke about her life and what a wonderful life she has led. She didn’t want her family to come in town and see her “like this” and I encouraged her to let her people love on her. What a gift it is to have people come toward you when you feel most vulnerable.

It was after that visit that I realized that this is what I am meant to do. Sitting with a person who is dying is one of the most beautiful parts of being a human. As the body fails, there is nothing to hide behind. With hearts open and vulnerable, there is nothing to do but face what is happening. Many people are afraid. And if I can sit calm and unafraid, I can look at her and say “it’s going to be okay” and she believes me. What a gift. This is why I am here.

I visited her again this week and as the family and other professionals talked about details and plans and what needs to happen next, I looked at her hands. So frail and weak and full of memories of holding children and grandchildren and husbands and hot pans and making sandwiches and working as a secretary and pulling weeds and drinking coffee or tea. In a room full of talking, I see her hands.

I quit a job this week, among other reasons than because it felt too hard. I had a deep and profound conversation with a woman who is dying. That was hard, too.

I took a chance, and what I found is the right kind of hard.

~AZ

The more deeply I know me, the more beautiful I become to me.

Glennon Doyle, the author and podcaster over at We Can Do Hard Things is one of my most favorite people that I don’t actually know. She and I are besties and she doesn’t even know it. In one of her many talking times she tells a story about how she was a new mom, newly sober and trying not to be consumed by her role as mama to very small humans. Her sister brings her a computer and says “Write. Just write it all down.” She did just that and shared a level of vulnerability with the world that I can strongly relate to. She asks and I also wonder, why is it so easy to share vulnerably with a million strangers and yet so difficult to have coffee with someone. I feel this.

More than that though I feel the intense desire to write. As an Enneagram Four I am a hopeless over thinker. The depth of the thoughts in my brain is difficult to describe. It wasn’t until recently that I learned that not everyone is picking apart every single thought that’s thought or word that is spoken the way I do. It is truly exhausting. When I have the chance to sit with someone who can handle what the inside of my brain looks like and is willing to sit with me while I give them a peek, it is both refreshing and terrifying, while I feel the relief of not holding it all in I also see the weight that has just transferred to this loving human in front of me. What a weight it is, to have so many thoughts in my head.

So back to writing. I began blogging about 15 years ago when my first child was born. It is crazy to think that I have pages and pages about what my life was like when I grew into the role of a mother. I was so young and had no idea what I was getting into. I slowed that blogging and writing down a lot after my children grew into what I think of as real people. Of course they have been real people all along but when they were babies it was as though I owned their stories, or at least had a strong relationship to their stories and as they have grown I have felt less ownership over this, thus reducing the amount of time I spend talking about them and their lives on this platform. Posts became more focused on my running and other everyday adventures. I haven’t blogged in over a year and I while I can hardly believe it I do see why it happened.

I also feel the weight of these thoughts in my head growing heavier and heavier with no outlet that doesn’t also include transferring the weight to someone I love. Not that they really mind. My people love me for who I am, even when it’s hard.

I think what I am seeking though is a place to dump these thoughts of mine where they can just land. They don’t need a response or validation that they mattered or that someone felt moved by them. Just a space where words can live and breathe and thoughts can bounce around, be picked up if needed or be left well enough alone. I am talking a lot about talking, so maybe I should just get to it.

What’s on my mind now?

There is a song by a band called Cavetown that has been on repeat in my world lately. The guy from Cavetown has a cool story, he is a trans man who sings a lot about what it’s like to live in a body that doesn’t make sense, and what it’s like to be not okay in a world that doesn’t want to hear that you are not okay. He has many songs I love but the one I am talking about today is called “Talk To Me”. Seems appropriate, right? Check it out here. 

"You don't have to be a prodigy to be unique

You don't have to know what to say or what to think

You don't have to be anybody you can never be

That's alright, let it out, talk to me"

“You don’t have to be anybody you can never be” is the one that stands out the most to me today. How many of us beat ourselves to death trying to be whatever it is we think we need to be? We have all these expectations pressed upon us first by our parents, then by our teachers, then by our partners/families and throughout it all we have these expectations about what we are meant to be pressed upon us by this society in which we live. In fact, if we slow down enough to pause and take a look we will see that it is mostly society’s expectations that drive the expectations impressed upon us by our parents, our teachers, our partners and our families.

I have this quote pinned to my Facebook page above. It says: “What if parenting became less about telling our children who they should be and more about asking them again and again forever who they already are? Then, when they tell us, we would celebrate instead of concede. It’s not: I love you no matter which of my expectations you meet or don’t meet. It’s: My only expectation is that you become yourself. The more deeply I know you, the more beautiful you become to me.” ~Glennon Doyle

So much about growing up in this world is reparenting ourselves. Even if you had loving and caring parents like I did, there are ways in which they just couldn’t meet my needs. This puts us in a position to have to reparent ourselves. It is saying to myself as many times as I need to hear it:

What if becoming myself isn’t about what the world has told me I should and shouldn’t be and instead is asking myself again and again who I really am? Then, when I begin to see who that person is, I celebrate. It is not, I am lovable no matter which expectations I meet or do not meet. It’s: my only expectation is that I become myself. The more deeply I know me, the more beautiful I become to me.

And to those around me. 

~AZ

Cock-a-doodle-doo, b words

It’s been pretty quiet around here, so I figured I would pop in and share a short but sweet and funny story about me and some of my favorite girlfriends. 

My girl Toni is a friend I have had since we were in 3rd grade. It’s funny, when someone has known me for that long I feel like they know me in a way even I might not know. She is an incredible person and I am just so happy to have her in my life.

One thing I can always count on is her creating time for all of us girls to get away and connect. It’s usually a weekend near water where we can all relax and have a great time. This past weekend was no different.

We drove to a cute little cabin within walking distance to the Meramec river. (side note, if you know me at all you know I do this thing where I think I know where I am going and then I get there and I’m like wait, this isn’t where I am supposed to be. This happened and I ended up going like an hour past my exit. Then GPS took me on some back gravel roads to where I was supposed to be, which were sketchy and scary but my Jeep loved it. I was just about to succumb to the fact that I might die on a gravel road in the middle of Missouri when I saw a UPS truck. I wasn’t far from the world after all!)

Anyway, I got there Friday evening and we went to the river and enjoyed a few hours before night fell in. Then we talked and talked and enjoyed our time together. Some girls went to bed early and I crashed around 10:30pm or so. 

Then at about 4:30am, I woke up and heard some of the girls talking downstairs. I rolled around a bit and they kept getting louder. I am like wtf are these girls doing?! It’s 4:30am! 

So I sort of stumbled downstairs. The bedroom was a loft upstairs so the sound really traveled. I see 3 of the 4 girls awake and chatting. The following conversation ensues:

Me: what the hell are you guys doing? It’s 4:45am. What the f.

Girls: Oh sorry we had such a hard time sleeping. We thought you went on a walk or something.

Me: A walk?! It’s crazy dark and this is a weird place I am not going for a walk in the dark! You guys are so loud. You guys sound like chickens. Peck, peck, peck. No. What are the ones that wake you up in the morning? Roosters. You guys sound like fucking roosters.

[I turn and walk toward the bathroom]

Me: "Cock-a-doodle-do bitches."

Girls: break out in hilarious laughter.

Me: Go into the bathroom and break into hilarious laughter.

It was so funny. I was so grumpy. I went back to bed and when I finally woke up for the day and was met with the girls announcing in unison "cock-a-doodle-doo bitches! Then Jen was like, “I saw you running up to 82 miles injured and before last night I have never seen you grumpy!”

Cock-a-doodle-do bitches was our catch phrase all weekend. 

If you’re into musicals you might know the scene I was referring to when I said peck, peck, peck and called them chickens. It’s from The Music Man. I’ll link it here.

So anyway, that’s the funny story. One day if we are good enough friends I’ll tell you the part about #effbabies too 😂

Running 100 Miles: Take 3 Run LOViT (again)

"Enjoy training, fall in love with it, and become it. By doing so, you will look forward to running, not finishing, and that makes all the difference in the world." ~Michael D'Aulerio

Truth be told I think one can do both...look forward to the running and to the finishing. I told my buddy Matt, my crew captain and basically the reason I even try to do any of these big runs, leading up to the race that the thing I was struggling with the most was trying to let two things live in my body and mind simultaneously: the idea that not finishing isn't an option, and if I don't finish it's actually okay. He told me it wasn't simultaneous, it was parallel. I need to commit to finish. And if I don't, it would be okay.

Well, I didn't finish. And I also didn't quit. I pushed and pushed until the very end. When I could barely walk and was about a mile out, my husband offered to meet me at a road crossing to bring me the rest of the way to the final aid station, where I had missed the cutoff about 30 minutes prior. In true stubborn af Anna fashion I simply replied:

"Fuck no, I'll get there myself."

-----

The week leading up to the race caused a ton of stress. Not so much for the race but for trying to get there! There was an ice storm looming and we weren't sure we would be able to make it out of town and down south safely. We ventured out though, and made it through about 2.5 hours of pure scary sketchy icy roads. Nate is an absolute rock star for driving us safely and getting me to the race start!

The race started out great. I ran the first 2 miles too fast and deliberately slowed down and settled into a good groove. I was knocking out miles and aid station stops like crazy. Feeling mentally and physically strong and truly having the most incredible time.

I love running at night, so when the sun went down and the headlamp turned on I settled into a nice groove and turned on my new favorite book, Brene Brown's Atlas of the Heart. I had already read the book and looked forward to hearing it read to me by the author. The next 8.5 hours were spent this way.

At about 30 miles my left knee and right hip started to hurt some. It didn't hurt at all when I walked, so I did the walk/run thing for a while, finally settling into a full power hike walk around 38 miles. It felt great, honestly. The pain was bad when I tried to run but as long as I just walked I was fine.

Matt told me I should try to do some running but I didn't listen. I was doing 16-17 minute miles, so I was holding a nice steady pace and was staying well ahead of cutoffs with at least a 2-hour cushion. 

Before I tell more of my story, I have to say that since this is an out and back course I knew I would see front runners coming at me sometime soon. It was about 55 miles when I saw the front runner, Karl Meltzer coming right at me. He was at about 75 miles at that point. The man was 20 miles ahead of me! It was pretty cool though to see an elite runner out there the same as me. Well, not quite the same 😀

My buddy Craig had called to give me some good running vibes and was on the phone with me when Karl came running past me. It was a pretty cool experience!

So I was tired of being by myself as my knee and hip was hurting a little more, so picking up my pacer Dennis at 58 was really nice. He kept me moving and as we came in to 65 I realized my hands were super swollen. That happens to me sometimes when I am dehydrated but I knew I wasn't because I was having tons of healthy pee breaks. I troubleshooted with Matt and figured I was probably low on salt. I drank some pickle juice and he gave me some salt tabs to take at the mile 68 station if it seemed to help. He also told me not to drink much between stations so I could assess the situation.

The salt was definitely the issue and the pickle juice and salt tabs brought me back. When I came into the mile 72 station it was like a car race pit crew. At one point I was standing there with my arms up while people were pulling trash out of my pack, stuffing it with food, changing my head lamp batteries and hand feeding me food. I was surrounded by the most important people in my whole life who wanted nothing more than to help me get back out to the trail and finish this race. I remained about 2 hours ahead of cutoff, and set to get to the mile 82.5 station at 7pm.

I told Dennis that I could no longer be in charge of knowing when to eat, and I needed him to help me by telling me when to eat. That's how I knew I was running low on problem-solving ability.

The section between 72-82.5 has a small station at mile 79ish that doesn't have crew access. Somewhere between 72 and 79 everything began to fall apart. My hip was on fire, and eventually my leg would no longer lift up to take a step. I remember saying to Dennis that I have no idea what to do. Why wouldn't my leg move? It hurt but it was more like my leg muscle wasn't attached and just wouldn't do what I needed it to do to move forward.

Dennis shared that the same thing happened to him at a race and asked how my glute was doing. He suggested I dig into the glute to try and take the pressure off my quad so I walked a while with my poles in one hand while using my right hand knuckles to dig into my right glute. Surprisingly this actually helped. 

The sun had set by now, and it was raining. My pace had slowed down considerably and I was finding it hard to stay warm. I had glove covers on that were frozen on the outside, keeping my hands pretty cold. I was beginning to hallucinate which was actually pretty cool. Seeing things in the woods never scares me, it's really just a cool thing to have happen. There was an icy bush that looked like a T-Rex, and the wet leaves on the ground looked like they had hearts or other patterns printed on them. 

They must have recently done a controlled burn because during the day you could see the blackness across the brush and could smell the smoldering fire. At night though, we passed a tree that had fallen over and there was a fire burning inside of the tree trunk. It looked like a fireplace and my eyes just couldn't make my mind believe that it wasn't a brick fireplace with the aid station right next to it. A day or 2 later, someone posted a video of the fire on the race page's Facebook group and I was so relieved that it was really there!

When we finally made it to the 79 mile station, I knew we had 3.5 miles left. This station does not have crew access, and the people there are only able to get there by ATV, so dropping wasn't an option. I had 90 minutes to get to 82.5 and I was determined to push as hard as I possibly could to make it there. Matt was there, my people were there and I could reset and go back out for the last 17. 

Those 3.5 were a struggle. I pushed and pushed but just couldn't make my body move faster. About 1.5 miles out we realized I missed the cutoff.

I was so disappointed. And Regretful. I knew I had made mistakes and I was devastated that I wasn't going to finish...again. I said to myself, maybe I'm just not cut out for this.

Then I see a headlamp coming toward us. It's Matt, and he had ran out to share the last mile with me and to see how I was doing. I told him I was upset, and that I didn't think I was cut out for this after 3 tries. He was so encouraging. I have no idea what he actually said but by the time we made it back to the station I was already feeling strong for my 82.5 mile finish.

About a half mile from the station, Nate called Matt and asked him if I wanted him to pick me up at this place where the road crossed so I wouldn't have to hobble that last bit. "Fuck no" was heard across the trail and through the phone as my response to my husband's very kind offer.

So there it is. The long story about how I didn't finish LOViT for the second year in a row. You know what was different though? I refused to quit. Last year, I gave up. At my 100 attempt #2, I gave up. This time, I refused to take any shortcut and pushed myself until they pulled me off the trail. If I had made it with 5 minutes to spare, I would have gone back out. There was nothing but the clock that could have stopped me and for that, I am so incredibly proud of this 82.5 miles.

My girlfriends rallied around me in the most lovingly way. Toni and Jen don't run, so they mostly stood back and let Matt take the lead on what I needed for the race but when it was done, they moved into full on take-care-of-me mode and helped me get my cold clothes off and get me into the car. They made me the most incredible sign ever, that comes with the BEST story ever that I might share with you one day if we are good enough friends. 

When we got back to the house my hip wouldn't move my right leg forward at all. I had to pick up my leg by behind my knee to move any steps forward. I was honestly afraid we would have to go to an urgent care or something if I woke up Sunday unable to walk. I took some ibuprophen and laid down to rest, after my girls helped me change my pants. These girls held me with so much love all day, and especially at night when all was done.

Luckily I woke up feeling sore, but not severely injured. I tested out the knee and hip on Wednesday and everything hurt again, so I plan to take a couple of weeks off completely and reassess the situation. The hardest part now, a week out and on a Saturday, is figuring out what to do with myself when I am used to being on trails on the weekends. My family is loving me being home though ❤️

One thing I can say is I don’t think I’ve ever felt as loved as I have in the last few weeks. So many calls and messages and congrats and just filling my cup with so much positivity! From my people who took a whole weekend out of their lives to support me to those who texted or commented on my posts, I appreciate you so much 🥰

I know the big question is, will I try to run 100 miles again? Honestly, I don't know. This last 1.5 years of training has been so hard on me, on my body and on my family. I wish I had the finish so I could move onto something else. If you know me at all, you probably already know that I might be down, but I am definitely not out ☮

A few memories I really don’t want to forget:

I knew the bench was there!

“Easy, just stop getting discouraged.”

Bo and the people of Ukraine. 

The way it felt when I returned to comfort. 

That girl totally got farted on in the face 🤣