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So You Ran (Most of) Laurel Highlands Ultra

My mental state after Laurel Highlands Ultra was Olivia Rodrigo: I feel right, I feel wrong, I feel totally insane. I adore her messiness. A review of you seem pretty sad for a girl so in love I encountered (but didn’t save), wrote about how she is developing her frontal lobe in front of us. Sure! But any middle-aged teenager will tell you she speaks to our feral instincts that still lie within us. All the art I have been drawn to recently is delusional and often full of yearning, like doing a somewhat ill-prepared ultra.

I am feeling a mix of pride and disappointment about my race. A combination of compressing 100k training and not getting to as many technical trails as I would have liked in an effort to preserve the final stages of ankle rehab were probably part of my failure to finish (I missed a time cutoff at mile 46 and was not allowed to continue to finish the 70 miles). In my last post, I was trying to convince myself I could make it work, but my ankle didn’t totally feel strong or ready until after the race. My physical therapist told me I was delusional when I said the race healed my ankle the final 10 percent, but that was a month ago and the tendons still feel great.

What did I learn? I found that regardless of distance, I cry during miles 22-26. I continue to catch people on climbs. Some of my best miles in the race were 32-39. I was steadily climbing, on a mission, passing some folks, and brought down my overall average for a moment. There was hope! I talked with a lot of runners that were local, including a father-daughter duo. She was only 17! I looked up the results and was thrilled to see they finished together. 

I had so much trouble breathing in the humidity, once again. I was able to keep eating and taking in fluids, but could not really catch a breath, making it hard to balance, after mile 40. I think in cooler temps, I have more in me if I want to keep exploring further ultra distances. Living through climate change is awful, and one of the things I call my representatives about (flooding the phone lines works).

Despite my DNF, I would absolutely recommend Laurel Highlands to a runner curious about the 70 mile distance. The aid stations were well stocked through cutoff times (like with french toast and maple syrup!!), volunteers had positive attitudes & high energy. I was prepared for the climbing during the first 8 miles, but I had a ton of trouble with the hidden, small rocks, on the flats. I was not steady enough to run on invisible rocks, and kept getting my poles stuck in the high grass on the very narrow single-track trails that were part of the flats. Anyone else approaching this race, I would say to do two things in training: 1) toast yourself on long climbs and 2) then run fast on rocky, flat terrain. My pace was nearly the same on the climbs and the flats because I was not doing well on the single-track sections.

The sweeper asked a couple of us as we death-marched to the aid station what our favorite part of the race was. I talked about how I’d never run through a ski resort. Even though that part was exposed, it felt surreal and otherworldly to be under a baking sun and empty ski lifts. The race also starts in Ohiopyle, where multiple Frank Lylod Wright homes are built. My partner and I went to a couple the day before, as well as a cute cafe: gorgeous.

I am (still) feeling dramatic. Digging into art helps. Living is dramatic! Rodrigo’s new album, Replaceable You by Mary Roach, and some favorite Brenda Shaughnessey poems have all been a part of making me feel like more than my missed goal over the past month.

Roach is probably best known for Stiff: The Curious Lives of Human Cadavers. I did my periodic “what is available now on Libby quest”, and found Replaceable You had come out in 2025. Replaceable? Yes we are. Will this kill my ego? Yes it will, as I learn how prosthetics are prioritized over tissue transplants whenever possible because the body will likely fight a transplant until you die.

Lastly, video art by @nikkitadumptruck has made me scream with laughter. She recently posted a comedy video about how integral delusion and yearning are to the human experience, and will only be heightened in the age of optimization. Yes! I failed because I am human, nothing can take that from me! I thought as I laughed and laughed. She’s a creator I enjoy within the bimbo intellect genre. My poetry voice floats in that space as a poet sometimes, even as I wish to not be my body. Those poems are from a space of weaponizing being seen.

Next, I’m on to a race in Fiesch, up to the top of Eggishorn. Stay tuned to find out how I survive my highest altitude yet, and how much I enjoy dunking myself in glacial lakes in Bern. 

So as always, stay sweaty and glittery. None of us are free until all of us are free.

Books I’m thinking about / recently read:

  • Replaceable You by Mary Roach
  • Bottom Feeders by Arielle Herbert
  • In a Sunburned Country by Bill Bryson
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Careful I Don’t Take You With Me

I did not snag tickets to see Hayley Williams, but ample full concerts on YouTube have helped me train on the treadmill during the height of allergy season. What is ultra training if not learning to embrace monotony?

I am ready to throw out all training plans. After 15 years of intermittently training as seriously as a person with a full-time job and chronic illness could to run a fast 5k, I had a breakthrough. No speedwork. Slow, plodding runs. Only 3-4 runs a week. About six hours of driving around in the car the day before. Slept on an approximately 40-year-old pull-out couch. 30 second PR.

This isn’t to tell you to fire your coach. It’s to say be free on the run. Let yourself feel what your body can do. Like many road runners, I spent/d too much time stressing about outcomes when I have a goal race on the calendar. 

For posterity, here’s a race recap of the Saint Luke’s 5k: 

  • The first quarter mile was downhill. I saw my watch hoovering around a 5:30 pace and thought oh no. I told my family all morning that I was going to take as a tempo run, probably finishing in about 25 minutes. The first mile arrived at a 6:30 pace. I figured I still had time to chill.
  • Mile two, I still pushed, but scaled it back to about a 7 minute mile pace. There were some rolling hills, and remember, I was going chill. I was having fun! I threw my arms up and yelled whoooo every time I saw spectators during those first two miles. 
  • The roads were pretty empty though. Despite scaling my pace back, I was confidently passing other runners. More importantly, my legs still felt amazing. I decided to give the last mile what I had left.
  • I could see two girls (literally high-schoolers) about a 10th of a mile ahead. I grinded the last mile to pass one just before a steep uphill to the J. Birney Crum Stadium, and caught pace with the other. My partner screamed to keep pushing. 
  • So I did! I love an epic track finish, and ran the last quarter mile in under a 6 minute pace. Rounding the final corner, I could see the clock had just shifted over 20 minutes. WHAT THE FUCK! I had pushed as hard as I could to catch the other runner, but after that last mile grind to catch her, she did pull ahead a few seconds for the win. Oh well! I could be her mom! I came through at 20:30. A thrill! I still felt good! Almost my entire family was there! I ended up in the Morning Call!

Since then, I’ve ramped up weekend long runs, stacking two runs together for 25-30 mile weekends. I had a panic moment about my foot/ankle – I took a breather, added back banded ankle strengthening, and felt good again after a few days of opting for biking instead of running.

These big weekends are because I put together my own training for Laurel Highlands. It’s a mix of big back-to-back trail days on the weekend, getting uncomfortable, then backing off significantly for my body to recuperate. I will know if it worked in June. 

With how questionable my body’s response to allergy season is, I decided to personalize a Coros 100k training plan. I need to focus on arriving at the start with no injuries. I know I’m strong enough to complete the 70 miles if I show up without an injury. 

Here’s a few other things I’ve been focusing on (and again, I will report back if it was successful):

  • Hiking with polls. I need to be ready to use different muscles from running.
  • Tailwind and Nuun in my water bottles for nutrition. Mid-June could be very hot, I need to figure out now a decent electrolyte to carb ratio. I don’t put both in the same bottle – my vest has two bottle pockets up front, so I alternate.
  • More core stability than I’ve done in awhile. I work in at least 5 minutes most days because as my body tires, staying upright will be harder and harder.

I am not afraid of discomfort. However, years of chronic illness have showed me over and over that I can’t grind it out for months. I don’t have those reserves. My idea is that with years of running in my body, I can run and cross train to a strong ultra-finish.

So as always, stay sweaty and glittery. None of us are free until all of us are free.

Books I’m thinking about / recently read:

  • Bluff by Danez Smith
  • Loner Forensics by Thea Brown
  • Born Standing Up by Steve Martin
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AWP Roll Call

Hi friends, literary loves – I hope you are continuing to move through this season with resilience & fight. AWP is in Baltimore starting March 4 and right around the corner, which is thrilling, and a little overwhelming. I keep marking my calendar with incredible events, hoping I can fly around the city on my bike to get to as many as possible.

I am a part of a few events that I hope to see you at! I put all of this in a sort-of newsletter I send to friends, but I should put it out there further too. I also created a 2026 AWP highlight of event flyers on my Instagram page (@glitterature72), and in addition to the events, I’ll be at the CityLit Table (T1162) in the convention center.

AWP Events – hope to see you!

  • Thursday, March 5, AWPoffsite Cobra Milk feature including myself, Shareen K. Murayama, Aerik Francis, L Scully, Michael Chang, luna rey hall, Danielle P. williams, Henry Goldkamp, Sophia Terazawa, hosted by Alonso Llerena. Mt Royal Tavern, 8pm.
  • Friday, March 6, Crabs in a Pot, Collaborating: How Maryland Arts Organizations are Sustaining Together in a Time of Funding Crisis featuring myself, Emily Ross, Annie Marhefka, Steven Leyva, moderated by Kerry Graham. 10:35 AM Baltimore Convention Center, Room 317.
  • Friday, March 6, Hard Times Require Furious Dancing is a gathering that is defiant in joy. This free event invites writers, readers, and literary folx to step out of conference mode and onto the dance floor. Enjoy music by DJ Chris Brooks and the Jonathan Gilmore Project, light bites and a cash bar by Mera Kitchen Collective, a photo booth by @snaphappyphotobooth, and dancing with old and new friends. 4MLK at 6:30pm.
  • Saturday, March 7, Always Crashing, Meekling Press, Barrelhouse, FEATURING: myself, Kate Wyer, Joe Sacksteder, Rachel Zavecz, David Leo Rice, Suzanne Gold, Robert Kloss, Whitney Koo, Jen Dary, Erica Stern, and MC Hyland. With a special performance by local band Luna Honey. Metro Gallery, 5pm.
  • Saturday March 7, AWP CONFERENCE WRAP PARTY, Read the Room: Celebrating Literary Baltimore, Food • Drinks • Music • Silent Auction. 2640 Space, 5:30pm – 10:30pm.

I’ll probably be posting about a writer-run soon too…more to come on that 🙂

Add Your Event to the AWP Page Highlighting Local events

CityLit teamed up with Kate Reed Petty and more local writers to create a page dedicated to showcasing events organized by Baltimore organizations and/or feature Baltimore-based poets and writers.

Fill out this form to add your event!

23rd Annual CityLit Festival: Literary Marketplace & Volunteer Call

Just a month after AWP is the 23rd Annual CityLit Festival, launching our first year at Maryland Center for History and Culture on Saturday, April 11. Check out exciting opportunities below!

The annual Enoch Pratt Free Library Poetry Contest is back!

I had a great time working on the Poetry Contest at the Pratt Library when I was there – don’t miss the FREE contest entry period! The winning poem, to be announced in mid-April, will be published in Poet Lore and celebrated at a public reading hosted by the Pratt Library and Poet Lore. It may also be displayed at the Central Library or turned into a collectible broadside. The deadline for submissions is Sunday, March 1, 2026. Learn more here.

Thanks for reading this far! I was interviewed for the Writers Who Run series and it was posted recently. You can read it HERE. This moved me, I wrote EMOTION INDUSTRY capturing the specific feeling of mid-aughts: “Dimond’s poetry is emotional, but it’s also playful in a way that we all need as the world weighs heavier each day it seems. Her writing is raw and self conscious. It’s like your MySpace page still hanging out online waiting to be discovered as an artistic time capsule.”

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What a year, I mean month

I spent the last few months injury stacking, to use wellness language. 

Things changed quickly after my last post. I was diagnosed with a stress fracture in two metatarsals. Rather than gearing up for fall races, I was booted, waiting for the pain to subside. A week after I was released from the boot, I sprained the shit out of my ankle on the same leg. I’ve only had a few meltdowns over it this fall.

I like to think I did learn something from my time fighting for endometriosis care. At my first stress fracture follow up, the orthopedist spent two minutes with me. Without any imaging, he said he knew I had a stress fracture and to stay in the boot. I asked about an MRI and he doubled-down. Why image when he knows?

Reader, he didn’t know. I have written about this kind of egotistical doctor already. There was no fracture in my initial image! It is standard to keep imaging a stress fracture to monitor the healing process. I immediately told my physical therapist about him and she emailed an orthopedist she often works with to get me an appointment.

I loved this woman. She is sharp, kind, thoughtful. Her work is driven by the core belief that you can and should get back to movement you love. I told her I was willing to get an MRI (read: PAY) for clarity. I’m so glad I did. She was able to see beautiful bones at the 5 week mark, so I could transition out of the boot.

I had brief, sweet freedom, biking around Baltimore cheering during the Baltimore Running Festival. Shortly after is when I fell down the stairs (nothing cool) and sprained my ankle, which has been a more difficult recovery. Or maybe both combined, healing my ligaments AND loading my foot bones, has made things more complicated. 

To paraphrase Melissa Febos, I am examining consequences. Without running, I had more time to reflect on writing and creative dreams. I would love more time. Ha! This means that despite having a stack of poems I’m calling a manuscript, my focus is on applying to residencies for 2026. Sitting, playing, thinking, leads to creative discovery. I need uninterrupted time for this. I did have a chance to reflect on this playful aspect some with Malissa Rodenburg in Writers Who Run, which went live a few weeks ago, before I started run / walking.

What else is on the horizon for 2026, a year that has already been filled with horrors? 

  • I am going to take a Stop the Bleed training, for another way to be a better bystander. I was recertified in CPR a few years ago, and I was a trained lifeguard back in the day. Those are still in me and despite being an anxious person the training has taught me to be calm in a crisis. This is an up-to-date way to be helpful if I…encounter horrors firsthand.
  • Read a book of poetry a week. I buy books when poets are on tour to support them, but have been terrible at keeping up with my pace. A weekly goal is a little easier for me than the Sealey Challenge (maybe I will go for that again in August!), and I will be supporting friends and peers.
  • Ride in a cyclocross race in the fall. Biking while I can’t run has brought me a lot of joy. I can cover even more ground than a long trail run! I can eat solid food and not vomit in my mouth! I love the heckling and crowd support at cross races. It’s time to give it a go.

This four month break from running has been a chance to see how much I miss it while digging into different hobbies. So as always, stay sweaty and glittery. None of us are free until all of us are free.

Books I’m thinking about / recently read:

  • Sapello Son by Alejandro Lucero
  • Sugarblood by Liz Bowen
  • Walden or, Life in the Woods by Henry David Thoreau
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Running Through It

In January, a friend asked if writing has interrupted my running goals. I have been ruminating on the question since then, including since I first started drafting this post in March (if that explains at all how this year has been going). I also found it so hard to answer, important to mull over, because writing and running are integral to my every day. I find time to move, time to write. It’s all creative to me. It’s always happening within me, even if I’m not actually writing or running in the moment. I started a blog called POETS THAT SWEAT, after all.

Prioritizing book event opportunities did change my racing schedule. I was out of Baltimore for many spring races. Evening engagements made me a group run ghost. I was spending time with writing friends in ways I hadn’t done since before the pandemic. I loved that time. We always need more time.

What I didn’t choose was severe lung inflammation, stoked by a major allergy flare before some updated allergy testing, then some ugly bloodwork I’m continuing to investigate. The ENT & allergist saw how a week without antihistamine to do some allergy testing caused my joints to swell, caused intense full-body joint pain. With endometriosis and my hypermobility, I have some big-picture concerns still to be determined. 

I managed to run this spring, though scaled back. Rather than racing, runs were connected to travel. During AWP in March, I scheduled my flights to have extra time to run. This was, of course, planned before the severe allergy flare, but I managed to have a good time. All while my friend and AWP roommate heard my breathing suffer.

First, I explored the Santa Monica Pier. I had started a daily steroid inhaler a couple days before getting to LA. My lung inflammation was so severe at that point that a half-mile easy jog was nearly impossible. I jog-walked for about 2 hours, taking in Venice Beach, Muscle Beach, skaters grooving to Fugazi, with Andrew McMahon in my head. I ate cash-only churros from a local vendor next to the end of Route 66.

The steroids continued their magic over the next five days. I was able to close the trip with an epic 14 mile run from Griffith Park to the Hollywood sign, The Last House on Mulholland Drive, Angel’s Frank Lloyd Wright crypt, then through the Los Feliz neighborhood. I think about the route all the time. The smooth dirt trails, the coyote quietly searching, the misty haze blanketing the city, the ranch tucked in a valley. I can see why so many people find magic there.

I had a quick weekend in NOLA in mid April for the New Orleans Poetry Festival. My lungs were so much better by then. I even had a chance to run around the art museum with a poetry friend, talking mostly about running and some about poetry.

My partner and I went on a road trip to Big Bend National Park for the last half on May. The trip deserves its own post. I have a notebook full of notes from Roadside Geology, tour guides, and observations. I’ve seen movies set in West Texas, looked at pictures, but the expansive land has an immense beauty I have trouble giving language. The best I can do is say I felt in my bones a depth that only scratches the surface of what indigenous people have seen in the land for thousands of years. I wasn’t able to get any readings scheduled during the trip, so I did some pop-up roadside recordings that I called “We’re All Oddities: Roadside Book Tour” on my Instagram.

I look to ultra-athletes with chronic illness, like Devon Yanko and Grayson Murphy, to not be afraid to keep finding new ways to explore. I’ve expressed this before – I’d be in pain if I wasn’t running. Why not have some fun? I have a tentative massive goal for 2027 that involves going to the Salton Sea. First, I have a road half-marathon to take on in October. Like I mentioned, I’m in the middle of testing to see if the doctor can pinpoint SOMETHING that’s causing unbearable fatigue. It’s going to take up most of my fall, but I refuse to pause my life.

Books I’m thinking about / recently read:

  • Mountain Amnesia by Gale Marie Thompson
  • Between Two Kingdoms by Suleika Jaouad
  • Recollections of My Nonexistence by Rebecca Sonlit

Stay sweaty and glittery. None of us are free until all of us are free.

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I Want Francis Bacon To Draw Me

A writer I admire posted my poem, I WANT FRANCIS BACON TO DRAW ME, a few months ago, and it did not sit well with a few internet commenters. I have voiced in different settings I do not expect all of my poems to be welcomed. They are not sweet. I have a point of view. I have been waiting for someone to be offended. This was exciting to see even a handful of people argue. I tell people to not read the comments, but I fail to take my own advice. Art should be discussed. I can’t find an exact quote, but I think often about how one of the hardest things as an artist is to be ignored.

To me, that poem is nasty, from my personal promising young woman era (read: revenge). A few folks dismissed the poem in the comments. These ideas that a young woman cannot go outside without her body commented on are part of the bigger picture of safety & control. Then, you have Francis Bacon, an artist that absolutely blew my young mind when I saw an exhibit of his work at The Met in 2009, who has captivated me ever since. The atrocities of war, the turmoil of being queer in that era – he captured the bleakness in a way I had never seen before. He is often on my mind as I push what I am willing to write. Bacon was not addressing chronic illness, but his portraits characterize the pain & turmoil of endometriosis better than anything else I have seen (including the barbed-wire around the abdomen portraits).

The poem is tucked on page seventy-one of my book. I often perform the “funnier” poems at events, but there is a lot of unbridled rage in the book. I have read a few live, like YOU DIDN’T CHOOSE / YOU DIDN’T CHOOSE / YOU. Bmore Art chose to publish it in their fall 2024 issue, so I’ve read it a few times because I wanted to do that selection justice. But otherwise, the poems that I do not employ humor in are too painful to read out loud. As the artist, I can self-select the performance in public you see.

I joke that my book is for 18-24 year old femmes. But that’s not really a joke. I am deadly serious about the importance of the opinions of young people, as serious as I am about not snuffing someone’s creative spark. As I continue to grabble with the difference between what exists in a book & what is performed at an event, I hope you continue to engage with art from the creative people around you. It’s what makes us human.

Soooooooo you can see for yourself & form your own opinions – EMOTION INDUSTRY officially released from Barrelhouse Books on October 15, 2024. You can purchase a copy HERE. I linked to the Bookshop page because they support Indie Bookstores. I also highly encourage you to ask your favorite local bookstore to order it. Local bookstores always have the best individualized recommendations, and when you order from them, it also puts my book in front of a new set of eyes. Thank you!

Books I’m thinking about / recently read:

  • Television Fathers by Sylvia Jones
  • It All Felt Impossible by Tom McAllister

Stay sweaty and glittery. None of us are free until all of us are free.

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The Wild Oak Trail

The Wild Oak Trail delivered this weekend – spooky, challenging, and overall, epic. This is described as a wild and free race. Participants follow the official blazes with minimal support. Yet the race director and a few of his friends made the racefeel huge. This weekend had more excitement and support than some of the 300+ entrant trail races I’ve participated in. There is something important about coming together for a love of the earth. A lot of us are rough around the edges, like the terrain.

To bring it together, I’ll recap by noting key moments.

11pm the night before: I’m still awake, refreshing the Facebook page. I want to know that my partner and friends out there had a good second loop in the 100 race before falling asleep. I somehow fall asleep before knowing their fate.

Getting to the parking lot in the dark: Snow is still coming down. I’m hyping myself up by remembering that I ran Bullshit Backyard in worse conditions (33 degrees and pouring rain for 7 hours) and that friends about to show up have done major winter backpacking trips. There are no bad conditions, just bad gear, amiright? I want to be right.

7am: I start reading Gale Marie Thompson’s Mountain Amnesia. The first poem opens with, It seems important to know the name / for this smallish mountain. Chills run through my body as I look out of the van to the trailhead.

8am: We’re off! One of the largest groups ever for this event. There’s a fresh coating of snow after the whirlwind storm that blew through before sunrise. It’s comforting to know that in addition to the trail blazes (and our various backup map formats), we’ll be able to follow each other’s tracks.

Mile 1-7: Tucked behind a group of Canadian runners with a friend. We’re both strong climbers, but after hearing how hard this trail is for months in the lead-up, we’re both conservative in our goals and starting effort. Around 4 miles in, I verbalize that we’ve had many delightful false flats – so far, the trail is reminiscent of a longer Bobs Hill (in Catoctin), which we both feel confident on. She validates my assessment and I can tell we’re both getting much more confident.

Mile 10: I’m still running with a small group of Canadians and we’re all generally very hype, so we approach the water crossing at Camp Todd with enthusiasm. We debate the merits of taking off our shoes. I share that folks that started on Friday for the 100 distance said the course was very wet after the water crossing, so removing your shoes would be futile. Most of us get to the river, grab the safety rope, and plunge right in.

Mile 10.5: The friend I spent the first climb with trots past me after we left the Camp Todd aide station. I knew it might be the last time I saw her, and I famously said “I’m going to walk while finishing my sandwich, maybe see you later!” She scurries up the mountain with ease. It is always feral girl fall in the wilderness.

Mile 13ish: After finishing my sandwich, climbing for a bit with another talented local female runner, I had been sharing some miles with a Canadian runner. We were having a good time, but nausea was coming on strong. The PB&J was too much. I said something like, “I’m going to get quiet. I need to focus on not vomiting.” 

Mile 14-15: The terrain transitioned to about a 20-30% downhill grade for much of this descent. Rain, warmth, then snow in 48 hours turned it into slop. I trotted down at my own pace, working to keep my back straight and shoulders down as best I could on my least favorite terrain.

Mile 16: I’m alone and thinking about how strong I’ve felt so far. I could have never done this without excision surgery, hysterectomy, and all the other medical support during the worst of my endometriosis. 

Mile 17: I’m back with the Canadian runner and he remarks that I seem to be doing much better. I am. One of the challenges in these long efforts is to not let a tough moment derail your day. I kept my forward motion when I wasn’t feeling well, and it passed. 

Mile 19: Not quite realizing we are on part of the trail nicknamed Chin-Scrapper, we plod up the steepest climb of the day with focus and resolve, checking in on each other when we hear foot slips on the muddy snow and leaves.

Mile 21-23: We’re on a fire road! We can open up our legs! We are so shocked and thrilled that we have this treat, we check the map multiple times. It’s still raining, possibly freezing rain (both our hat brims are frozen), when we hear footsteps behind us. Another woman is flying down the road. We all exchange words of encouragement before she disappears into the mist ahead of us.

Mile 23: My running buddy says we are supposed to have one more major climb before the finish (see mile 19 note above). I say that mile 19 was pretty steep, but we can’t remember where this infamous climb is, so we decide we’ll take it as it comes. I’m also looking back for Jeremy to catch us at the end of his 4th loop. Based on time, he can’t be too far behind, but we are moving faster than I expected. He ended up getting 3rd overall in the 100 for his massive effort, but while running, all I could do was wonder.

Mile 25: My running buddy points out an exceptionally shaped tree. This is a native trail marking – trail trees, culturally modified trees, that have been modified by indigenous people as part of their tradition. I have been thinking about belonging and am once again reminded that the earth has been stewarded for many years before us.

Mile 26.5: We run into Aaron about to finish his 7th loop! He’s a Maryland runner that started on Wednesday in the 8 loop, 200 mile effort that only a handful of people have finished since 1988. We have an encouraging exchange and continue with some haste to keep going to the parking lot. The final stretch of the trail is rather rocky and slick for my taste, especially on tired legs, but the hard climbs are over.

Finish: 7 hours and 45 minutes. Taking it comfortable while still making a point to trot as much as possible, I came in under my conservative goal of 8-10 hours. I packed food, water, and a headlamp like I could take 12-14 hours, based on everyone’s terrifying descriptions. The Wild Oak Trail is not easy, but the earth rewarded any one that took it on with its climbs, smooth descents, and varied fauna. 

Books I’m thinking about / recently read:

  • Mountain Amnesia by Gale Marie Thompson
  • Belonging: A Culture of Place by bell hooks
  • History of my Breath by Kristin Kovacic

Stay sweaty and glittery. None of us are free until all of us are free.

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Here we go again

I’ve done a much better job using Instagram to update how book release has gone. But here I am, sitting in a trail parking lot again, with some time to think about the last two months.

EMOTION INDUSTRY officially released from Barrelhouse Books on October 15, 2024. You can purchase a copy HERE. I linked to the Bookshop page because they support Indie Bookstores. I also highly encourage you to ask your favorite local bookstore to order it. Local bookstores always have the best individualized recommendations, and when you order from them, it also puts my book in front of a new set of eyes. Thank you!

I’ll write about some highlights.

Performing with Amanda McCormick again! Our last performance together was probably in 2018. We have a special creative energy that we fell back into as we worked on our script.

Speaking to Writers in Baltimore Schools students as part of my reading with Tanya Olson at the University of Baltimore. First of all, they all knew Lisa Frank via meme culture, so the cheerful nihilism poem in my collection, REAL LIFE LISA FRANK, landed with them. Then, after the official reading, one of the students came with another question. They asked how I stay positive as a queer person in the world. I nearly cried in that moment. This was a few weeks before the election, but anti-trans rhetoric had already been ratcheting up for months. The pain within queer communities is deep, but we are also so resilient. All of this went through my mind in the split second before I answered. I told them that queerness also means possibility to me. That we’ve already had to build our own community support, and although times are tough right now, I know that we as a community can see how things can be better.

A poem in the latest issue of Bmore Art. The issue should be hitting mailboxes now, and it is available locally at the Ivy Bookshop, Greedy Reads, Atomic Books, and good neighbor. I originally pitched an interview, then the team asked to include YOU DIDN’T CHOOSE / YOU DIDN’T CHOOSE / YOU. I sort of buried that poem, and a few others like it, in the manuscript. It is plain-spoken rage. I hadn’t read it publicly either, so I did read it for the first time at Milkhouse in Frederick a few days ago. The energy in the room shifted as I was being real.

Support from coworkers. I’ve lost count how many people at my 8:30am-5pm have bought my book. That’s more terrifying to me than anything else – I have a certain persona there, and I don’t let my darkness peak out to many people. Folks seem to like it though! Which is something I’m looking to do with the book: be a space where people realize that these systems don’t work for them, and we can do something better. There I go again with queer possibility.

Whew! I am tired. That’s a lot to have happening personally on top of, ya know, politics now. We continue to live through unprecedented times, but this is not new, & in these cycles, we often build community & find new ways to push for better. I’m not being naïve. Though I do deeply believe that the most naïve though is that war can bring peace. We are in a time where we can come together to fight like hell for something that works for the majority of us across demographics. Don’t forget that. We got most of our labor reforms (that could use some updates) out of the chaos of the 1890s.

Books I’m thinking about / recently read:

  • No More Flowers by Stephanie Cawley
  • Tea Leaves by Jacob Budenz

Stay sweaty and glittery. None of us are free until all of us are free.

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the void occurred to me

After all things occurred to me,
the void occurred to me. 
“End of Summer”, Louise Glück

I have the tendency to say to myself, “oh I’ll write a nice race recap,” and then privately mull it over while never actually writing it. Oops. It goes into the void of my brain, to paraphrase Louise Glück.

Winona Forest Backyard Ultra was a wonderful experience from an organizing perspective. The course had the clearest directions I’ve ever followed. Anywhere you could take a wrong turn, the race director put a string of flags blocking the path. In a race where you are plodding on the same loop, yet becoming increasingly stupid every hour, this was GREAT. There were lights for the start/finish of night running, and easy camping on location.

I ran 34 miles, 8 yards. I knew I’d been training for shorter speed and the heat + humidity would be tough for me, so I’m content with that result. Not happy. Not disappointed. Just content that I kept going, when I started telling my partner around mile 24 that I was thinking about dropping. We drove 6 hours to the race, a 50k felt like an arbitrary, worthwhile distance.

My favorite part of the day: the conversations. In a Backyard, you can find someone to run with the entire time if you want (also, if they want to chat – read the room). What a different experience from a trail ultra, where you can spend 6+ hours completely alone. I commiserated with a runner I met at Bullshit Backyard Ultra (highly recommend this race for the special community, but dang it was hard as heck), talked with a teacher + photographer about what art & work looks like, and spent time with a woman who had never gone over a marathon before. She ran 40 miles that day.

Are cumulative experiences timeless? Probably. If they are specific enough. I’m reading Nora Ephron’s book, Wallflower at the Orgy, and although the original edition was published in 1970, I am laughing out loud or nodding along vigorously. She writes with VOICE. Her writing has an energy. I only know a couple of the names in her essay on the messy world of the food critics, but the drama is evergreen when thinking about any small, insular creative community.

Last night, I was talking with a few people about poetry. At first, one person said they couldn’t write poetry because the form is so concise. Then we laughed, because what about epics like the Odyssey? The Bible? Some of our longest stories ever told are in the form of a poem.

Like how I enjoy the connections on the run, I’m writing to make connections. I have no idea what will stand the test of time. But we are here together, now, and I’m going to write about existential dread, eggs, and the moon.

Books I’m thinking about / recently read:

  • Wallflower at the Orgy by Nora Ephron
  • The Wild Iris by Louise Gluck

Stay sweaty and glittery. None of us are free until all of us are free.

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I am not a cool girl

I am in the thick of publicity planning for my debut, full length poetry collection, EMOTION INDUSTRY. If you’ve ever thought “wow, I’d like to have Tracy on my podcast, blog, website, etc.” I welcome your email. There are only so many hours in the day after my 8:30am-5pm.

Some more publishing news: I am thrilled to be part of Yellow Arrow Vignette, Yellow Arrow Publishing’s online creative nonfiction and poetry series. Read it here! Our work is paired with gorgeous illustrations as well.

Days in Baltimore have been a heat haze for over a month. I’m busy, yet the air vibrates like pouring a seltzer and watching the bubbly clouds. National and international chaos abounds while every moment is memified before we think deeply. I’ve managed to run, but it has been disorderly (unhinged?) because I chose to start a Summer of Speed after I signed up for a mid-August Backyard Ultra.

Zero percent recommend this mash-up. I hope no coaches are reading this. Around June, I scaled back my elevation gain and mileage to accommodate for the stress running fast on a track creates. I might be an idiot, but there are ways to keep injuries at bay.

Why am I doing something so dumb? It’s so simple, I may be the idiot from hell: I shifted to the summer of speed when I decided I wanted to race. Olympic fever caught my what if vulnerability. These athletes focus, I can do that. In that sensitive, receptive state, a friend told me about Ladies Night Track. My money was with the running store 24 hours after she told me about it. I’m also trying to pack in as much as possible before our climate becomes untenable. That or our bodies, you can read about how 3M hid the dangers of forever chemicals for years here.

The camaraderie at Ladies Night Track has been everything I would have wanted on a track team. Last week, we kept saying, “Be like Katie Ledecky! Stay consistent and strong!” This is why I run: to be goofy and enjoy movement. It doesn’t have to be running. I want this kind of relaxed safety and fun to be available for everyone. I am a poet, after all. There is always potential.

Books I’m thinking about / recently read:

  • I Do Everything I’m Told by Megan Fernandes
  • Motherhood by Sheila Heiti

Stay sweaty and glittery. None of us are free until all of us are free.