The Story is full of Mile(stones) and Mountain Trails

The author mid-race

Ultrarunning isn’t just about chasing finish lines. I don't think it can be.

It’s about meeting yourself again and again on the long stretch of mind-bending miles when no one is watching, when the road turns inward and there's nowhere else to go but inside yourself. Each footfall becomes a quiet thread in the larger story we weave. Perhaps it's a story about resilience. Or about change. Or about remembering your own damn strength.

Ultrarunning is about our narratives and what stories we choose to listen to, and tell.

The Wrong Turn That Changed Everything

Every ultrarunner has an origin story. Mine began, quite literally, off course.

I was in the Birkie trail marathon when I missed a marker and veered in the wrong direction. I ended up running nearly four extra miles. It was my first ultramarathon, but by total accident.

What surprised me wasn’t the extra distance. It was what happened inside me. Something opened. The mistake showed me I was capable of more than I thought.

That unplanned detour was the moment everything shifted. It was the first time I stopped asking IF I could go further and started knowing that I already WAS on my way.

String-Em-Out

My second year into ultrarunning, after a purposeful 50k and a 50-mile race, I wanted to push the envelope. I wanted a challenge that was manageable and could push me further than I had been. And I wanted to stay connected to ultrarunning all year long.

That’s how my own personal String-em-up Challenge came to life: a 50k each month for five months. Not for the medal. Not for a time. Just to see what would emerge when I stitched together effort and endurance like that—month after month, trail after trail.

It wasn’t just a challenge. It was a way to stay awake to the process. To stay alit and alive inside of the ultrarunning world.

If you’re longing for something else, try creating your own rhythm. Build a season that reflects where you are and where you're going. Something not bound by expectation or performance, but reflects something of meaning to you.

Leadville: The Fear that Became a Threshold

Signing up for the Leadville 100 scared the hell out of me.

Altitudes above 10,000 feet. Technical terrain. Trekking poles I barely knew how to use. A race so storied it felt sacred.

But something in me knew it was time.

I trained as best I could. Not perfectly, but with heart. I earned mountain legs and attempted fuel strategies, tuned in to the weather and the warning signs of my own body. And somewhere along the way, the fear stopped shouting. It became a steady hum. A kind of reverence.

Crossing that finish line didn’t feel like conquering something.

It felt like surrendering to what was possible.

I had made it, yes. But more importantly, I had shown up for myself in a huge way.

That’s what the big challenges do. They beckon out parts of you that hadn’t yet lived.

What Could Come Next

There’s no perfect path through the story of ultrarunning—only the one you carve with your own two feet. And in every wrong turn, brave signup, and ordinary trail run, there’s something sacred waiting to be noticed.

So ask yourself:

What have you already done that deserves celebration?

What felt like failure but turned into something formative?

Where is fear asking you to step forward?

Every time you run, you’re building something.

A story. A body of work. A life.

And it matters.

Keep going.

Keep becoming.

And don’t forget to honor the trail behind you, even as you leave it to move forward.

I can't wait to read your story.