Six years ago, I unraveled chasing sub-24. This time, I earned it - steady, controlled, and present for all 100 miles. Same distance, different person. Proof that patience compounds.

The opening miles are always sacred. A moment to take inventory - mind, body, intent. My knee ached, my ankle burned, and the mountain waited. The deal was simple: keep moving forward. Through cloud, wind, and a brutal climb, Whistler offered fleeting beauty and honest resistance. This wasn’t about time or place. It was about showing up.

Seven years after my first ultra, I returned to the Headlands 50K and was reminded that the real distance isn’t measured in miles - it’s measured in who you become. Work, love, and life each carry their own climbs. If you stay relentlessly committed, something meaningful always comes. Sometimes all it takes is a kind word on the trail to change someone’s entire race.

The Dipsea has a way of shifting your focus - from how you feel to who you’re running with. Once I stopped thinking about myself and started thinking about everyone around me, the race opened up. We rallied, we passed, we pulled each other forward. By the time I crossed the line faster than last year, the message was clear: we’re all capable of extraordinary things - and of bringing others along with us. Always Be Passing.

From a midnight start to wall-like climbs and brutally technical descents, this race was entirely mental. One hundred kilometers in and awake for over 30 hours, I was hallucinating - and loving it. I’m grateful to have shared it with Matt Gaide and for the steady presence of El Capitan, David Green. I run for those who can’t.

Today I stopped running afraid. I committed early, trusted my body, and explored the depth of my soft edge. From river crossings to the steep walk up Goat Hill, every mile was a reminder: running is a privilege. I finished Way Too Cool 50K under five hours, and learned how far I’m willing to bend without breaking.

In my second 100-mile race, I was reminded that life’s challenges are inevitable, but perseverance and a positive mindset are key to pushing through. Along the way, I encountered new friends, shared incredible moments, and found deep connections that fueled my journey. This race was not just about crossing the finish line but embracing discomfort, celebrating progress, and recognizing the beauty of human resilience and love in action.

Broken Arrow nearly broke me. Though the race was two 13k loops with a climb from 6,204’ to 8,858’ and a total elevation gain of 8,757’, the high altitude and intense sun made it one of the toughest challenges I’ve ever faced. It tested both my physical limits and my character, forcing me to crawl up climbs and stay sharp on technical descents - proving to be not just race training but an exercise in resilience.

I opted to run without a watch today, aiming to reconnect with my body, mind, and heart without distractions. Following advice from my dad and Dan, who raced long before the era of GPS trackers, I embraced the Dipsea trail's history, leaning into the challenge while savoring the unique nature of the race. In a tradition-rich event that flips racing norms on its head, I was honored to receive post-race feedback that my positivity and energy made the journey more enjoyable for others - an experience I’ll carry with me into next year’s race.

I may not fully understand the "why" behind my ultra running yet, but I do know it has transformed me in ways I never imagined. It has shaped my character, pushed my limits, and revealed the beauty of life through movement and exploration. As long as my body allows, I’ll keep running, embracing the journey and the support of those who have been part of it.

I raced with everything I had today, and I couldn’t have asked for a more beautiful day. There’s nothing I’d change about it - grateful for Matt Gaide inspiring me to join the Quad Dipsea, my dad coaching me through the ups and downs, and my little cousin Mikey for the naproxen that eased the discomfort. Huge thanks to the volunteers and all the incredible people chasing their goals out there today - these are the moments I live for. Pitter patter!

My first 100 mile race at Rocky Raccoon was an intense journey filled with highs, lows, and unexpected challenges. From battling old injuries during training to the mental and physical exhaustion of the race itself, I pushed through pain, fatigue, and self-doubt to cross the finish line. With the help of my support crew, running partners, and a lot of grit, this race taught me patience, resilience, and the value of trusting the process.

Waking up at 2:45 am, I began the Silver Rush 50 prepared both physically and mentally for the challenge. Each section of the race tested my endurance, from battling nausea early on to pushing through knee pain on the descents. With support from my family and race volunteers, I embraced every obstacle, discovering new depths of confidence in the final 10 miles. Crossing the finish line in 11 hours and 13 minutes, I realized that facing my fears and embracing discomfort had transformed this race into one of the most significant experiences of my life.

What a journey from start to finish - emotionally, mentally, and physically. Waking up at 2 a.m., I tackled the South Khaibab to Phantom Ranch, pushing through nausea, mental fatigue, and dehydration. Each section of the Rim to Rim to Rim tested my limits, but the beauty of the canyon, camaraderie of fellow runners, and the incredible volunteers kept me going. From creek crossings to cold beers at Phantom Ranch, every step was a learning experience in resilience. Celebrating with McDonald’s at the end was the perfect way to close out an unforgettable day!