Tag: trailrunning

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.

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.

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.