obligatory year end 2016-by-the-numbers-and-other-stuff note

"The real voyage of discovery consists not in seeking new landscapes, but in having new eyes."  --Marcel Proust

So That I Can Remember: Fall Foliage

Race Report: Hold Stumt

As much as I enjoy writing, there wasn’t much of a point in writing a race report for TARC 100 anyways since it will be getting shelved indefinitely for a variety of reasons, including decreasing demand.  Plus, I’ve never been a big fan of ultras run in laps, whether it’s because I find them to be utterly boring, pedestrian and uneventful (see: my 2015 Blackfoot 100k race report, or lack thereof) or because they usually evolve into a longer-than-necessary stay inside the pain cave (see: 2015 Javelina Jundred, 2015 KUS 24h).  So instead of the usual recap about my adventure, I’m going to focus more on how I mitigate things when the act of trying to leave a world of hurt feels increasingly Sisyphean in nature. 

So That I Can Remember: South Kaibab

Race Report: Mein Götterdämmerung

When I rediscovered running in 2011, the reason I did so was to literally run away from people.   I was looking for a decent one-hour break during my work day where I could just be alone, away from shitty colleagues and stupid email chains, and straight-up rediscover the glory of my existence.  

It's been five years, and unfortunately, searching for my raison d'etre is still one of the biggest reasons I lace up--the only difference is that the whole "I just need an hour to deal with some shit" part is closer to a day and a bit now.  

This race report is not a happy story.  It starts out pretty dark.  And then it depicts the pains of running a Hard Rock qualifier all by yourself.  

But it gets better.  

(Also, it's a long one, so maybe pour yourself a glass of wine first.  Or split open a tube of cookie dough.  I don't know, whatever floats your boat.)

Race Report: Gather Ye Rosebuds While Ye May

As of the writing of this report, I'm a few months into my 26th year in this world, but I still act with the maturity of someone half my age.  Whether it's my complete lack of ability to budget and just jet off into the world collecting experiences, or the fact that I’m not one to usually try at things, setting A-goals and B-goals at a ridiculously low bar, or misplacing the fucks I have to give about life in general--there is a large part of me that ardently refuses commit to accept the potential consequences of my actions and run away from anything that gives me the potential of feeling regret.  

But once in a while, the world aligns its stars, tells you to grow a pair and to not fuck the moment up.  

The 2016 Ronhill West Highland Way Race was one of those times.  Bear with me.

this is actually Scotland, believe it or not.  LOOK AT ALL THAT GREEN

Race Report: We Now Return You to Your Regularly Scheduled Programming

and here we are, back unto the breach once more.

EETZ JUST LIKE SCOTLAND