grief – #poetsthatsweat

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.

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.

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.

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.

This is human life in all its strangeness.

Costar recently sent me the notification: Pay attention to how you disregard your own needs. What an attack!!

As I talk more with other ultra-runners, we agree on some level that you have to turn your brain off and disregard what might be rational while participating in one of these events. You’re balancing meeting important physiological needs – the bottom of Maslow’s Hierarchy of Needs if you will – yet ignoring your body’s calls to completely stop and rest. Your own needs. Much less complex than the sentence that before the last.

I mull all this over as I wait for a friend and my partner to come to the mile 87(?) aid station at MMT 100. I’m thinking about the two Backyard ultras I participated in this spring, and two transformative book events I went to over the last twenty-four hours. All hold so much weight. My brain has decidedly not been turned off.

Melissa Broder on Friday night was more than I dreamed. Her humor in the darkness of all that is having a body, the watching of the watching of the watching. As a reader and a writer, I find a glow in the way she balances deep thought with obsessions like Diet Coke. I am part of consumer culture, ok?!

To the rabbits, I suppose there’s no such thing as sameness. For them, and their heightened olfactory consciousness, life probably a stream of new and exciting fragrances. But for me – senses dulled by a constant deluge of opinions and judgments – every moment is a house of oppressive thoughts to be escaped. This is human life in all its strangeness.

A majority of Friday evening’s conversation was asking why we have our obsessions, why we think the way we do. It was a room full of people that most definitely ask themselves what is the point every day. Broder explores this in every book in some way.

Then today, honoring Mandy May. Tonee Mae Moll closed her set with Mandy’s poem, “I want people to think,” and that was it for me (many of us, I think). The day, and the leadup, may have been the hardest in the grieving process, all while still being a beautiful way to bring many of us back to each other. We shared so many intimate details through our creativity in grad school. We’ve seen each other peel our soft petals and expose our thorns. Over the past year and a half, I have found running in the woods and listening to crows healing. But I still want to come back to these people.

It’s nearly 2a.m., time for me to go to the aid station to welcome the runners. At this moment, I need to be with them. They’ll be there for me another day, and I’ll be with writers again. I’ll write another time about each Backyard. For now, I want people to think that I said what I meant and I meant what I said because I did.

Books I’m thinking about / recently read:

Death Valley by Melissa Broder
Bone / Blood / Blossom by Mandy May

Stay sweaty and glittery. Black Lives Matter.

FAFO or GTFO (or something)

Let’s dig into some race recaps and what is to come.

Froggy Hollow 5 & 9

I ran my own race. I ran my own race. I ran my own race. I ran my own race. I ran my own race. I ran my own race. I ran my own race. I ran my own race. I ran my own race. I ran my own race. I ran my own race. I ran my own race. I ran my own race. I ran my own race. I ran my own race. I ran my own race. I ran my own race. I ran my own race. I ran my own race. I ran my own race. I ran my own race. I ran my own race. I ran my own race. I ran my own race. I ran my own race. I ran my own race. I ran my own race. I ran my own race. I ran my own race. I ran my own race. I ran my own race. I ran my own race. I ran my own race. I ran my own race. I ran my own race. I ran my own race. I ran my own race. I ran my own race. I ran my own race. I ran my own race.

Ok enough of Stephen King or Lorrie Moore (pick your favorite) mimicry! I had a stellar race – kept a steady pace over the 5 hours, never really experienced a low. The key: my thoughts were mostly turned off. I focused on getting through the aid station loop in under a minute.

Hashawha Hills 50K

I was not well in the lead-up to the race. Hi, sinus troubles. Before starting, I knew I’d probably DNF. I talked with my partner about it making sense to even start. The outcome still stung. Dropping out brought up feelings for me about not wanting to be weak. I could endure years of endometriosis pain, I couldn’t stay on the trail a little longer? I moped for about 24 hours, then moved on with my life.

However! The race course was gorgeous farmland and tucked away woods off 97. I’m excited for a chance to try it again in the future, during a race, or for a random run.

What’s Next?

I am running a Backyard?! Of course I’ve felt a rollercoaster of emotions going into my first. How do you even feel like you’ve prepared? What mileage even makes sense? Am I strong / stupid enough? We’re all going into the unknown – so is anyone really prepared? No. It’s organized chaos, and in my positive moments, I lean into the curiosity. Running friends and strangers on the internet have all been generous in giving advice.

My goals are to focus on my own race & pace while enjoying the camaraderie of running with the same group on the hour, every hour. Plus, we run through TANK ALLEY. Should I be Tank Girl? Furiosa?

I am Furiosa. Which is appropriate, because the race is fundraising for Girls on the Run. If you’re inclined, please donate here. Safety for women & girls of all identities continues to hold them back from running, movement.

Speaking of rage – it is endometriosis awareness month. I have been symptom free since my hysterectomy / oophorectomy / excision almost four years ago, but I will continue to scream this important information that I am quoting from the experts at Indigo Physiotherapy: “Today, excision surgery of the endometrial tissue is considered the gold standard for treatment. In addition to excision surgery, there are a variety of treatment options that you can explore that range from hormonal treatment to pelvic floor therapy.”

There is no definitive cure for endometriosis. The lesions often exist outside the uterus (mine did!), so a hysterectomy is not a cure. I chose to have mine removed because of the monthly blood loss, chronic back pain, disinterest (perhaps hostility even?) towards a pregnancy of my own. I live in a liminal space of “not cured”, but symptom free.

I’m thinking about all of this now, because while racing an ultra, I am a “no brains, just vibes” gal. Not quite meditation, I protect my energy. Nothing will stop a run like hyperventilating due to emotions. I’m so grateful I can continue to FAFO in athletics, & afraid of losing the ability again.

Books I’m thinking about / recently read:

· Behind You Is the Sea by Susan Muaddi Darraj

· The Quarry by Joellen Carter

Stay sweaty and glittery. Black Lives Matter.

I DON’T CARE / I LOVE IT

For almost seven hours, I chanted in my head I DON’T CARE / I LOVE IT. I care a lot, which is why it has taken me a month to write a Patapsco 50k race recap. Still, that accidental mantra can summarize the training cycle. Let’s break it down into three parts, like a long poem, if you will. I’m primarily a poet, so forgive me if I focus on the overall vibe, rather than every detail.

Pre-race

A few weeks ago, I was talking about iron infusions with a coworker. She said, “if I get an iron infusion maybe I can run ultras!” And I responded, “I literally couldn’t do this until I got my iron (and other chronic health conditions) under control.” So maybe I will have another training partner soon. I feel like I’m in a liminal space of healthy and sick. Despite a global pandemic, I’ve been able to pursue passions like running without physical limits over the past three years.

This was also the first training cycle in – ever? – I didn’t feel burned out. I reluctantly tapered, but I needed that for some pep on race day. Throughout training, I was able to step back when I was sick or experiencing a lot of life stress. I credit my own maturity, and what I learned from my former coach over the three years I worked with him. Look at that, learning to be flexible. And reasonable. Take the time to rest. I mostly followed this Hal Higdon plan, knowing that I wanted confidence from spending time on the trails over anything else.

During race

I followed my partner’s advice and didn’t stop at aid stations. Keep walking, keep moving. I barely paused through the halfway point; started lap two as the eighth woman overall. Then, my body did not want to go. Sort of the opposite of Tracy Turnblad singing, “The streets tell me go!” I was quite hot at the halfway point, but mostly in a good mental space after spending the first sixteen miles with two fellow Faster Bastards. I also felt like I was going to vomit and had a ginger chew. When I say I was feeling good, that is relative.

I fell around mile nineteen on a smooth downhill. Upon hitting the ground I thought, “Oh, I’m on the ground.” This was concerning – I didn’t feel anything when I hit the ground. Mostly, I was curious about how I got there. Then I decided I should be grateful to not have working pain receptors and kept going. Or maybe the repetitive early 2010s hit from Icona Pop had infiltrated my bones. Either way, I still have a shadow of a bruise on my left arm.

I told running group teammates I didn’t cry during the race. That’s not correct either. I was dry-heave-sobbing through miles eighteen to twenty-six. Ultras are true highs and lows of life! It was a pretty standard fight-your-demons-as-you-want-to-quit experience. Mile twenty-six was a turning point: I knew I’d see my partner, and the last six miles were on very familiar trail. The pace wasn’t blistering by any means, but I had enough pep back in my step to pass a few people.

I ended up twelfth woman overall, 6 hours and 38 minutes, just shy of my top ten goal, which I thought was possible if everything fell into place. I was about 40 minutes slower on the second loop, which wasn’t surprising with how I do in race weather over 50 degrees.

Post race

A little extra reflection here, that I didn’t allow during the race, because I feared crying. Three years ago, I was starting to build back to an idea of a long run, with no idea of what may be possible. Going back through my training journal, I was running with no thoughts about racing. I wasn’t back on trails until December 2020. Back is a generous statement. I started trail running in 2018, but the impact on top of my constant pelvic pain was too much to withstand before my excision + hysterectomy. This is to say: things look rosy now, but it took significant time to build to where I am.

I’m already signed up for a few races in early 2024, that aren’t necessarily pace-based like road races. At this point, I’m exploring possibility. We shall see what happens with some of the big plans in the works for 2024.

Books I’m thinking about / recently read:

Three Pianos by Andrew McMahon
Winter Recipes from the Collective by Louise Glück
Golden Ax by Rio Cortez

Stay sweaty and glittery. Black Lives Matter.

I’m glad I dream

And I say then I’m glad I dream
the fire is still alive

Those are the last two lines to Louise Glück’s latest collection, Winter Recipes from the Collective. I finished the collection, then reread it, while in Maine. Glück has written about mortality her entire career, but this one felt more like a true knowledge of the sunset to come.

It’s been a summer full of travel, writing, and running. It will still be sweltering in Baltimore through October, so this is not an end of summer post. I’ll let you decide what kind of post it is.

I spent over a week in Estonia in July, mostly in the capital, Tallinn, visiting friends. Travel tip: most cities allow you to purchase a cultural card that gets you heavy discounts to different museums, restaurants, and cultural centers. I purchased a 3-day Tallinn Card and maximized how many places I visited on the days my friends were working full-time hours. In addition to bike-riding along the Bay of Tallinn coast and exploring Lahemaa National Park, I went to over 15 museums. At the last one, the museum staff asked if I was a blogger. Just someone interested in history, I said.

Near the end of the trip, I set out on a long run. I told my friends I’d go around 14 miles. We’d explored part of the Tallinn City Trail on bikes the day before. I ran through the pines feeling the weight of history. Now a bustling recreation center, part of the land was once a mass KGB grave. In the United States, our land has seen horrors as well, like mass genocide of indigenous people, the horrors of slavery, and our current incarceration policies. I thought of Appalachian folklore and the urges to listen to the forest. Conifers or concrete, the land speaks to us if we listen.

August was also full of fire – and because I cannot slow down – something about inertia and forward motion, right Vonnegut? – I have been thinking about what is next for running. After racing a 50k of my own, crewing Eastern States 100, (including driving back to the campground at 4am) – I’m asking myself if I want to go longer. Sometimes I’m thinking about to signing up for a 50-miler, but really I don’t know. Firebird Trail Race was lovely to run outside of Portland, ME, in late August to cap off the New England trip. It was only 13 miles, so we could still stand and enjoy Odiorne Beach and Mystic Pizza after.

What if I continue my commitment to exploration and went with all new races? I ran somewhere new at least once a month this summer. Why wouldn’t I continue to explore?

Books I’m thinking about / recently read:

Three Pianos by Andrew McMahon
Winter Recipes from the Collective by Louise Glück
Golden Ax by Rio Cortez

Stay sweaty and glittery. Black Lives Matter.

Meandering intensity

Time to meander through artistic and athletic identity, as I often do.

I finished a 50k trail race last month. When I think about it, I think about how finishing the helped me turn off arbitrary limitations swirling in my head. It wasn’t as fast as I wanted, but damn it was fun to run and problem solve through ugly terrain with a friend. If I can do that, what can’t I do?

I talk about limits like I haven’t been an athlete since I was in elementary school. An athlete, a writer, trying to figure out where a person that loves both can fit. It has taken me years to understand that I can be an artist and an athlete. Perhaps this shouldn’t have been difficult, but it had been presented to me as an either/or situation. Like curiosity and pushing the limits don’t complement each other.

Circus, and then finding beautiful long form essays in places like Outside, or Haruki Murakami’s What I Talk About When I Talk About Running, then the academic & creative writing from Leslie Heywood has helped me see myself as more of a whole person, not fragments of expectations. This is a privileged struggle, but it is also so common in different ways. What have you had to break free from?

A few years of creative work have dropped recently in journals. I’m excited and overwhelmed – since my endometriosis diagnosis, I’ve grappled with how much I want to write about navigating the trauma of chronic illness versus how much actual change the writing can bring. That’s probably unnecessary pressure. Many writers have discussed writing about trauma, and I think often back to a conversation at Charm City Books between D. Watkins and Rion Amilcar Scott: D. was working on new essays (what would come to be Black Boy Smile—go get it, the essays are gorgeous) and grappling with how much he would write about trauma. He discussed wanting to write about simple joys too. What was he writing for?

That why is at the forefront of every word I put down. The question might be why do I write or it might be why is this joy or why is this contributing to a cultural conversation, but it always starts with some sort of searching, and probably thoughts about audience. There is this push online to build social networks with more authenticity, more immediacy. What is more authentic than caring for your community in what you put out there?

Places to find new writing:
Cobra Milk issue 4
Virtual launch party on May 23 @ 8pm EST, Click here to RSVP

Jarnal issue 3: Transitions
Virtual launch party on June 11 @ 12pm EST, Zoom information to come

Books I’m thinking about / recently read:

The Sense of Wonder by Rachel Carson
Black Boy Smile by D. Watkins
You Could Make This Place Beautiful by Maggie Smith
Choosing to Run by Des Linden

Stay sweaty and glittery. Black Lives Matter.

A bit of a GRIT recap

The sorta flash GRIT recap no one asked for, except for myself because I am still shocked I managed 34,000+ feet of elevation in over the month. Well, maybe not totally shocked because I have been quietly working on trails, and we did get perfect mild winter weather in Maryland most of the month. I’ve had a hunch I was always more workhorse than Thoroughbred, and being free of debilitating chronic pain for almost three years now has made it possible to explore that part of me. My dumb enjoyment of going up and down Bob’s Hill solidified my theory.

Early in January, I threw up a little in my mouth when I did the math and realized that if I kept my mileage around 150, I’d have to average 200 feet of elevation a mile. I spent most of my time on Bob’s Hill and Gun Road—I am a creature of habit. Alright, here’s a recap of mostly exclamatory thoughts.

Week 1: 6,647 feet of elevation
My first trip to Bob’s Hill—magical! Patapsco Party! Truly just riding a high, trying to not talk too much about my plans, but bringing it up out of nervous excitement.

Week 2: 9,619 feet of elevation
Went insane on Bob’s Hill (5 x repeats!) & had a really nice little trip to Frederick. I met a female ultrarunner on the trail that regularly does TEN repeats of the hill. Note: My only fall of the month was sliding onto my butt while at Weverton Cliffs. The ancient rocks have seen so many feet, they are smoothed by our journeys.

Week 3: 8,069 feet of elevation
I went hard on the Monday work-day off, and over the weekend again, despite a challenging work week: driving all over the state with a team filming and conducting interviews. I still managed to stop at a Wawa while in to Havre de Grace—very important because most of the month while running up and down Bob’s Hill was in Sheetz territory.

Week 4: 6,302 feet of elevation
Here’s where I really scaled back my weekday elevation. I was feeling *good* but wanted to be conscious of a one-way ticket to injury town. Also, the mental exhaustion from the week before had set in. At this point, I was coasting to the goal but not trying to add any extra flourish.

Week 5: 2,769 feet of elevation
The final week/end of elevation! I’m taking the elevation numbers from Strava so I’m assuming the breakdown is correct. How did we close GRIT? A trip to the finest Sheetz in all of Western Maryland! Partway through the month, I promised my coach I would go easy in February to absorb all the work from January. As I write this, I dream of rocks. This is not new. My dad would take my brother and I to rock shows as kids—fairs in New Jersey where we would look at rocks.

Bonus: Froggy Hollow 5 Hour
I promised I’d go easy after this race…here was a distance challenge on top of ugly weather. Frigid temperatures, unknown territory physically and mentally. I’d never run longer than 15 miles before this day—final count was 22.2 miles. I cried a little watching my Garmin tick over 20 miles. It didn’t help that I decided to skip a handheld water bottle—why carry ice??—and was really feeling the dehydration by the final loop despite extended breaks every time I came through the aid station area.

Bonus bonus because I can’t draft fast enough: BRRC Super Bowl Trail Race
I love this race so much! It was hilly, but every incline was rewarded with a downhill. I took a wrong turn which slowed me down by a tenth of a mile, but overall I was pleased with a much stronger effort than last year. Next year, I hope third time is the charm in terms of following the course correctly.

Books I’m thinking about / recently read:

Honey Girl by Morgan Rogers
Finding Ultra by Rich Roll

Stay sweaty and glittery. Black Lives Matter.