I'm only sleeping...oh wait...

Many nights I lay in bed, awake, for hours.  Sometimes I imagine that my ceiling is an endless expanse of starts and meteors orbiting the room with resolute determination.  I hear the tree scratch the window pane, a howling wind whistling through the cracks in the doors.  I see myself standing on the top of a hill, spinning, dancing, wondering what use I, someone so small and inconsequential, has in the eternal scheme of things.  Sometimes this helps me slowly slip into sleep.....However, mostly I just stress about how I am not going to get enough sleep and how grumpy I'll be in the morning.  Or I worry about things I have no control over: the actions or others, my social anxieties, whether or not my children will be happy. After all, 2am is a perfectly good time to do that, right? 

I've been an insomniac at least since high school.  While my peers were staying up late and sleeping in until noon, I was just mostly always awake.  In college my freshman roommate was certain she'd never actually seen me sleep.  I would be writing a paper or doing research on my computer when she went to bed and when she woke, I was reading through a textbook or sketching......or likely eating. 

I hated hearing from others, "You just don't need as much sleep as the rest of us,"  or "Wow, how lucky, you can be so much more productive."  Neither of those statements were true.  I was always tired, always thinking, and rarely doing as much as I could.  I would try everything I could to help: herbal supplements, sleeping pills, meditation, yoga, exercise.  Nothing seemed to help.  And so I finally embraced it. 

At night I would always have my best ideas.  But by the time I finally got up to write them down, they had already slipped away.  At night I was my most creative and witty, but nobody was ever awake to hear it.  At night, I could be whoever I wanted to be and there was never a soul to judge me. 

I remember taking walks at 3 am around campus in the deep fog.  The lamps from the walkways shot beams of light through thick trees only to get lost in the mist.  It was the best time of the day, or should I say, night.  There was an eerie silence that was almost invigorating, I felt invincible, spectacular, as though I could do anything or be anyone.  But then dusk would come and with it the sun and the light and the people.  Everywhere there were people, hurrying to class, chatting with friends, debating with classmates, and again I was lost in the buzz.

Finally my roommate had enough. "When in your life have you slept well?"  She asked on day.  I thought for a bit and then remembering my most restful nights, I spoke out with excitement.  "In the wild," I explained.  Despite the elements, the cold, the hard, rocky ground, I always slept well when I was backpacking, miles away from any other human, surrounded by natures song.  That night, I slept out on a grassy knoll behind the dorms.  I slept incredible well, that is, until busy students nearly trampled me in the morning getting to the cafeteria.

Sadly I was not permitted to set up a tent on campus and since I lived in Portland, it didn't make much sense to sleep out in the rain.

Since that time, the only improvement I have found in the sleeping department has been when I was totally exhausted from being up with a crying or hungry child.  I could immediately fall asleep after each feeding.  Maybe motherhood would cure me from this sleepless fate.   No such luck.

Perhaps that's why I try to imaging myself in the elements now while I lay in bed.  Maybe it takes me back to the days when I could do anything, be anyone, in the wilderness of my life.  With a small family I cant spend as much time in nature as I'd like.  I can't even remember the last time I packed up my backpack and took of for days at a time.  I don't resent my life now. I wouldn't trade my family for anything, but I do look forward to the day my girls are old enough to enjoy those adventures with me.

Until then, I will fill my mind with wide vistas of pines and rocky mountain tops.  I will imagine skies filled with stars, I will capture the beauty of Gods creations in my mind and I will fall slowly and happily into my deepest sleep. 

Trail Friends and Shooting Stars

The sweat under my wind breaker gave me a chill as the breeze tickled my neck.  The stars were literally dancing and I felt complete peace.  The motivation for the run was watching the meteors and the sky did not disappoint.  I was beginning to think that some of my bad ideas actually work out. Lightning had been striking all around us all evening but the Wasatch Gods were smiling down on us...

That Thursday morning started out pretty much the same as usual; getting the kids ready, cleaning up around the house...you get the idea.   I had been feeling fairly discouraged about how slowly my body seemed to be recovering from Tushars.  My run the day before was an easy 8 miles and I could barely slog through it.  When I had gotten the message from MVH to run Lone Peak, I had mixed feelings.  I had wanted to do Lone Peak all season but the prospect of that long of a climb gave me anxiety.  I had done the west face of Grandeur several days earlier and was embarrassed at my inability to perform anywhere close to my normal pace.  My pride and my ego were standing in my way.

Brent was going to be gone all evening with a church youth group and I knew there was no way I would be able to start 5:30.  I had been planning on doing the unnamed peak next to the AF Twins the next morning but was struggling to find a sitter for the kids and the I couldn't contemplate the thought of the drive so early from Oakley to American Fork Canyon.

"Why not do the peak for tomorrow tonight?"  This way I could take the girls to my parents and go after I put them in bed and I would be back before they woke up.  Also, this would allow Jennilyn the time to take care of all of her responsibilities that evening.  On top of it, we could watch the meteor shower on top of the world (or at least at 11,000ft) 

I made the suggestion and let Jennilyn convince everyone else it was a good idea.  I showed up at 9:00pm at the place for meeting and MVH, Jennilyn and I jumped into the back of Matt Williams car and took off.

By the time we got to Silver Lake it was already dark.  Derrick, DJ, and Cait had already arrived and were getting all their gear ready.  The jeep trail from there was about 3.5 miles before the trail started up towards the lonely third twin (aka the Bastard).  Matt W. mentioned something about why we would be running the road when we could drive and so we decided, rather then run the road and hit only the one summit, we would drive to the trail head and hit all 3 peaks!  I was all about more peak bagging and less running (Still super nervous about doing a ton of running....especially with other people).

The drive was exciting to say the least.  All 7 of us crammed into Matt's car and he somehow managed to make is way up the "road" without any casualties...it may have been faster to run (at least for everyone else)!

It was a short climb to the first peak, less then two miles, and immediately I knew it wasn't going to be my night.  My calves began to ache instantly and my heart was dying without a good warm up before the climb.  I was regretting being there.  I was sure that I was slowing everyone down and those who had never run with me before would surely never run with me again.  Why hadn't I just done this on my own, when nobody else could see me struggle?  I kept moving.  Matt W. kept me company while the rest ran up ahead, joking and laughing.  DJ, who had finished his 200 mile race only days earlier, was literally sprinting up the side of the mountain.  My mind was BLOWN!!

luckily, nobody seemed to be frustrated with my pace (at least they didn't show it) and when we reached the top I felt instant satisfaction for coming despite my self doubt and my ego.  There is a certain silence on the tops of mountains.  You can hear a slight echo of the wind as it glides across the hilltop.  We could see the lights from Wasatch, Summit, Salt Lake, and Utah Counties and the night sky lit up with stars.

We sat, shared a small bag of M&M's and a pro bar and took off to the next peak.  Jennilyn had me take over as d.j. (not to be mistaken for DJ) and I felt some more life lift my feet.  My confidence was beginning to return and I was finally feeling more like myself there, above the tree line.  We spent very little to no time on the East Twin before taking off for the West Peak.

We arrived at the last peak and I think I literally began to sing.   Jennilyn and I laid down close together to stay warm and Cait quickly joined.  We were mesmerized with the sky, with the mountain and with our friends who all came out to enjoy the moment with us.  There are so few perfect moments in life: The birth of my children, kneeling across from Brent in the Temple, sitting lakeside late at night on my first backpacking trip in the Wind Rivers, and this moment were among them.

I don't know how long we stayed there. It may have been 5 minutes, it may have been an hour.  Not until we realized that both of the Matt's had taken off did we get up and start our way back to the car.  We caught them on the south peak and when everyone caught up, we made our way down the mountain.

Finally I could run!  I took off after Matt W. and Jennilyn and I could hear the speaker playing music from my phone not far behind me.  Derrick, who was carrying the speaker my iphone was playing off of, joked that he had to catch me or he'd loose the music.  The rocks and overgrown grassy trails seemed familiar to my feet, though I had never gone that direction before.  As we dropped into the canyon the sky became even darker and the starts shone even brighter, blocked from the city lights.

When I thought the night couldn't be more perfect, the 4 of us who had reached the car sat down and watched more meteors shoot through the sky.  Some streaks were bright, long, and slow, as though they knew they were center stage.  Others were faint and sped through the air with purpose, easily missed and hard to catch.  Each one was perfect.

Eventually we were all together again and we made our way back to the silver lake parking area.  Most ran down the road.  Matt, Matt, and I drove (I had no need for the extra miles and MVH had already done Mt. Olympus before joining us.  Matt W. had no choice but to drive since it was his car).  We arrived at our final destination and parted as quickly as we had come together.  I refused to give up the front seat, much to Jennilyn's dismay ;) and it was able to see Jennilyn feel peace after a tough few weeks and write a beautiful poem on the spot, as the stars were dancing.  I saw how much power DJ had so soon after he had accomplished such a feat only three days earlier.  Matt W. and I had a chance to talk and laugh about how somedays, we can go faster then the fast ones,  and MVH tried his darndest to jump out and scare us on the climb.  Derrick was a welcome companion, living a dirt bag life, and capturing so much beauty through the lens of his camera.  Cait was all smiles and filled with a radiant beauty.  Kindred trail souls came together and experiencing that simple evening with friends enhanced the moment 100 fold.

Broken but not destroyed: On overcoming the "bullying"

I must preface this post with a disclaimer:  THIS HAS A HAPPY ENDING!  I don't want to discourage anyone nor do I want anyone's pitty.  Instead, I hope to show that despite the words of others, great things can come to pass!

I've been trying to write about my experience being bullied for a long time and every time I begin, I am unable to put in to words my thoughts.   I hope that somewhere, someone may feel inspired, or find hope in my story.

I have always been told I was a happy child, outgoing, energetic and full of life.  I would talk to anyone, child or adult, who crossed my path.  I was always excited to meet someone new and found several great friends just by going to a house and asking if there was someone who could play.

One day a group of us were getting together to play some games and a neighbor girl said to me, "My mom says I can't play with you."  You can imagine how I may have felt.  I had been taught from a young age, and felt in my heart, that everyone was to be loved and included despite their background, their religion, their parents, their looks, or their popularity.  I use the word tolerance, not as just 'tolerating" a person, rather as accepting and loving all people.  You do not need to agree with a person or their actions to love them. 

What had I done?

Why was I being singled out?

Like most kids, I was an adventurer and would occasionally get in trouble for ridding my bike too far or staying hidden too long.  Because I was the biggest kid (not necessarily the oldest), I was often the one blamed and therefor labeled the "problem child."  I didn't find this out until years later when a cousin admitted that her mother told other parents to watch out for me.

This broke my heart.  And it would only be the beginning of years of bullying that I would experience.

In school I was interested in Art, Drama and reading.  I wasn't very athletic and struggled with the normal sports:  soccer, basketball, kickball.  (Actually I was athletic, but "hiking" isn't really considered a school sport;)).  I was also a little over weight.  The 'popular' kids would make fun of me at recess and I even had adults say, "Maybe if you lost a little weight, you would have more friends."

Sixth grade was especially hard for me.  I remember coming home from school often with tears in my eyes.  Each time a student had a Birthday, the teacher would try make it really special for them.  They got a beautiful handmade card signed by the whole class and would receive special privileges.  When my birthday rolled around, I was anxious and excited.  Much to my dismay, my birthday had been forgotten. Of course I didn't have the courage to tell the teacher so a fellow classmate told her for me.  She felt horrible that they day was over and it had been forgotten so she made a big deal in front of the class.  Apparently this gave some of the 'cool' kids in my class an idea.

The next day I would find my locker decorated.  Then, during recess, the kids would raid everything, leave nasty notes, and write horrible words across the locker for everyone to see.  It shattered me.  I didn't want to go to school and all I could think of were their laughing faces.  I was mortified.  I was crushed.

Slowly the light that once radiated in my being began to fade.  My confidence became weak.

The end of the following summer our family decided to move.  I was filled with new hope.  I could make a new start with a new school and new friends.

It was a lot more difficult then I had expected.  The girls in my church were far more concerned with the clothes they were wearing then the character of their heart.  I tried so hard to fit in.  I did extra chores around the house just so I could buy the necessary things to 'fit in'.  But to what end?  No matter how I tried, i wasn't accepted.  No matter what pants I wore, or how I cut my hair, the me, wasn't good enough.  I was laughed at in Sunday School, mocked in front and behind my back.  I was the butt of all the jokes on the bus to school.....even the driver, would leave me on the side of the road when I was waiting for the bus, leaving me miles from school and late for class. 

Finally, by the eighth grade, I had found a small group of friends who seemed to accept me.  I remember feeling like I had people I could call my own.  Sadly, that didn't last either.  I wont go into the particulars of the situation but I will say this; they hurt me more then I thought possible.  They told me to my face that I was no longer welcome to be their friends.  They didn't want to be seen with me in the halls, I would have to sit somewhere new at lunch, and if I even smiled at them in class, they would make sure I knew I was nothing.  And all of this was because a group of boys they liked thought I was ugly.

I expected this from the popular, high maintenance kids in my school, but from my friends?? I was done.  I had already been prone to depression.  I suppose a person who feels such joy and passion in her life is cursed with  having to experience the opposition in that.  Balance in all things.

Ninth graders went out of their way to make sure I would never be liked.  And so,  I decided I was never going back.

I would leave the public school system determined to get my GED and be done with high school.  I didn't want to have to face my peers again.  My parents were pretty determined to have me finish off at a private school with a diploma.  We would search for a long time before finally setting on Realms of Inquiry.

The long term effects were unfortunate.  I suffered from sever depression, anorexia  and anxiety.  I had almost no confidence and questioned whether or not I could ever be loved for being me.  BUT, I did overcome!  I found love in unexpected places.  I had people, I hardly knew, care and show concern.  I would find peace in the mountains, in the desert and on the trails.  I found reason in my faith and ultimately that was what got me through. 

I would go to college and thrive.  I would try new things, Crew, Cross Country running, art.  I would get lost in my books and spend hours with friends laughing so hard we'd cry.  I would find a place amongst people who were drawn to me, and I to them.  I have found purpose in life and I am thriving.

I could have let the words of others break me down and give up.  I could have given in to thoughts of suicide.  I could have stopped believing in God, mercy, and love.  But I didn't.

The experiences that we have in our lives make us who we are.  Not the experiences themselves, but how we choose to act as a result of them.  I choose to put a smile on and believe;  Believe that I am worth loving, believe that I am strong, believe that my quirks make me special, not strange but worth loving.    

I have more then I could ever have imagined.  I have a beautiful and supportive family.  I have friends who have chosen to be an extension of that family.  I have faith in the Love of God for ALL of his children, no matter what! 

I wish we lived in a world where we loved people BECAUSE of their weaknesses and not DESPITE of them.  If only we could see what their maker could see.  If we could treat others with respect, whether or not we think they've earned it.  If only we knew how powerful our words can be for good and for evil alike.  Maybe then we could lift those around us and not break them down. 

I have since had run ins with several of the individuals who "bullied" me.  More often then not, without provocation, they have given me sincere apologies.  I truly believe that people are not inherently bad, or mean.  They have insecurities of their own and give into the pressure of peers.  I do not hate them, nor do I feel sorry for them.  They too must learn and grow by experience. 

I cannot imagine what it is like for kids today.  With social media and text messaging, it is easier then ever to bully without even having to face one another.  If you or someone you know and love is dealing with this, I want you to know you are not alone and that it WILL be okay.  Life will get better.  I believe that as we endure, we can find peace.  We can feel love envelop our souls.  We can find people who lift us and love us for who we are.

I wrote this poem as I thought of my experience:

Small and cracked the little brown seed,

By the wayside; no use for the farmer.

She will never fill the gardens,

Pruned and immaculate.

Or grace the bouquet on the fine lady’s table,

Set with linen cloth.

Kicked, stepped upon, disregarded.

Left alone, to fend for herself.

A scar here, a tare….broken.

In the wind she disappeared.

They left her to fend for herself

On rocky edges.

Told she could never sprout

Among the shards and scree

But despite the hate, the judgment,

Humiliation and disgrace.

The seed began to bloom where she was.

Shooting above the noxious weeds,

On the top of the jagged peak

She stood gazing upon those

Who believed she was nothing.

Reaching towards God  

She was above them all.

From couch to Tushars 93k: the 8 week training plan ;)

 

If you had asked me 8 weeks ago what I would be doing August 1st, I can GUARANTEE you that the Tushars 93k was nowhere on my radar.   In mid June I had joined several "wranglers" on a Superior to Monte Cristo summit and I can recall Aaron telling me how he was doing Tushars and asked if I had any races coming up.  I gave him a confident no, explaining how I am just getting back on the trails and if I am really lucky, I might be ready for an easy 50 miler by October.  

Those two peaks were the first of twenty-two 11,000+ peaks I would hit in the next 35 days.  With the meeting of new friends and trail soul mates, I basked in the beauty of the Nebo line, topped the peaks of the Bullion Divide, frolicked in the wild flowers on Timp, and slogged through the ridge between Provo and East Provo peaks.  Mountains I hadn't hit in years were once again visited (Pfifferhorn, Sugarloaf).  New challenges boosted my confidence on rough terrain (Superior, Red and White baldy) and I knew I belonged above the world!

Occasionally Jennilyn, DJ, or Matt would joke with me about getting all my late night and early, sleep deprived morning training runs in for a 100 miler.  For me, it was a good tease.  I wasn't training, training is hard, I was just playing!

Late one night (early morning), after summiting Box Elder, I realized I had put in almost 60 miles of "running" and countless hours on my feet in the mountains.  I was shocked.  "That's the same amount of miles a lot of people put in their peak week for Wasatch 100," Jennilyn explained, "Too bad there isn't a 100 coming up in less then 3 weeks."  Ok, so there were no 100 mile races I could join but there was a 93K (57.7 miles) in just over 2 weeks, TUSHARS!!

The Tushars from the top of the world PC: Kendall Wimmer

Because I am crazy, I actually contemplated doing the race. I doubted the logistics would work out.  I needed Brent to be ok coming out to support me and I needed someone to take the girls for the weekend (5, 3, and 9 months).  Chances of things coming together were slim to none.  But go figure, Brent agreed right away as long as we found a sitter and my wonderful sister-in-law Amy, who had 5 kids of her own, happily agreed to watch the kids.  I was truly grateful!

I figured I would put in a good 18 miles that saturday on an easy trail (Jordanelle) and I suffered through each step.  I tried telling myself that was completely normal after having 2-3 really tough weeks but my confidence wasn't too great.  I hadn't run over 20 miles since before I got pregnant with Nina and my doubts began to creep in.  The following Monday night I gashed my knee open pretty good on my way up to Lake Blanche.  I taped it up nicely with some purple climbing tape and finished the evening with friends reading poetry, sharing art, and enjoying music in the amphitheater that is Lake Blanche.  At midnight, Cait glued me together and I was on strict orders to stay off my feet for at least 5-7 days.  WHAT??? The last week and a half before the race I ran a total of 5 miles.  Was I ready for this?

Feeling completely ill prepared and under trained, I started off on the race of a lifetime.  At 5am the race began and dozens of racers sped down the rocky jeep trail through Eagle Point resort.  I was supposed to be running with Ben Light but had no idea where he was and figured it wouldn't be too long before he caught up.  About 3.5 miles in I heard familiar voices behind me.  Ben and Matt were chatting away and I eased up and let them catch so I could enjoy the trails with friends.  We reached a saddle just as the sun began to creep over the horizon.  Deep reds and oranges lit up the sky.  Half way to the first aid station, the race was already worth every moment.

The decent through abandoned mining cabins brought back a certain nostalgia for the people I had never known.  Where did they come from and how did they manage in such rugged terrain?  I felt myself among them.

The climb through the steep gulch up towards the feet of Delano Peak was unlike anywhere I had ever been.  The grass was deep flourescent spring green.  Dozens of mountain goats hung on the edge of Mt. Holly and I felt like I was being transported to another world.  Brothers Williams couldn't help but ring out in song.  If the rest of the race was torture, it would all be worth it for those moments. The hills were definitely alive!

The Climb towards Delano, PC Kendall Wimmer

 We hit the peak and found the Van Horns waiting at the top with cameras.  It was great to see more familiar faces.  I felt like I was a part of something really special, amongst those who I love and admire.

Aaron, Matt, myself and Ben PC: Peter Van Horn

We hit Mud Lake aid station at mile 16 just as the first marathoners came through.  I was anxious to get back out as soon as I downed some bacon, a grilled ham and cheese, and refilled my dwindling water supply.  I knew Matt and Ben would easily catch me.  I wanted to move strong but not too fast in fear that I might over spend myself too early on in the race.  After a relatively short climb we reached the decent down to blue lake.  It was incredible.  That stretch of the race was the most "runnable" section of trail.  It was smooth and neither too steep nor too technical.  I stopped once to take some flower pictures and I'm sure Ben (who had caught me quickly as I expected) was rolling his eyes!

Another of my silly pics ;)

Blue Lake

From the lake to Bullion Pasture (mile 23), we switched back on a 4 wheel trail a few miles.  Steadily we climbed with great reward at the top.  My left leg began cramping up with great force.  I would try to rub it out and figured if I just kept moving, it would work itself out. I removed my compression and miraculously, I wouldn't feel a single cramp for the remainder of the race. 

Red shirt and white bandana, I knew instantly Brent was waiting for me.  Jennilyn, Brent and Turd'l helped to get my electrolyte and energy stores back up.  Pickles and juice (yes, i drank pickle juice and it tasted fabulous), mnt dew, cinnamon roll and cheese puffs...that should just about do it.

I was excited to get down the road to the Copper Belt Aid station my good freind D.J. was manning with the help of Emily and Sam.  "Three miles to the top," he said.  Not too bad.....I thought.   Ouch!  That climb felt more like 5 miles.  The grown over rocky trail was difficult to follow.  I somehow missed a flag and traversed the wrong direction for awhile before realizing my mistake and charged straight up the mountain to again catch the trail.  The out and back to the peak was brutal but it was nice having a chance to size up how the rest of the runners were doing.  It was also nice seeing on their faces that I wasn't the only one whose butt was getting kicked!  We reached the top, stamped our bib, and started back down.

The trail on the west side of Copper Belt:  PC Nate Younger

Ben was much quicker on his feet through the rock and scree.  I, being notorious for falling, had to watch my feet constantly to ensure I wouldn't clip a rock with my toe and tumble down the scree field to a certain unpleasant demise.   A dog that had wondered away from her owners made it nearly to the top of Copper Belt Peak before Ben lured her away and we gained another running partner.

Me on the top of Copper Belt  PC: Ben Light

I had been in a bad place for about an hour and knew I needed to kick myself back to reality and get my head into the game.  The stream crossing just before getting back to the copper belt aid station gave me a little hope.  There I would consume the breakfast burrito I made DJ take for me, warm off the grill.  There I would get some water and be 3 miles away from gaining my pacer and dear friend, Jennilyn.  Steadily we moved ahead.

Let me tell you about good friends.  I have GOOD friends.  When we reached Bullion Pasture for the second time (mile 36), my feet were dying.  Matt (who ended up dropping at mile 23) and Jennilyn not only grabbed some new shoes and socks for me, they removed the used footwear, greased me up with glide, and redressed the feet with care, dirt, sweat, and blisters aside. <<<<<Brent would have died!  (Love you brent ;)

We had to keep moving.  7 miles down to the next aid station.  7 miles before the climb that might do me in.  7 miles I kept running because frankly, Jennilyn made me.  And I'm so glad she did.  My downhill legs felt more trashed then my uphill ones but I continued forward, listening to friends.  Scott from Texas joined us at copper belt and stuck with us mostly because Jennilyn had tylonal and ib profin.  This was the lowest elevation point of the race dropping down to nearly 7,000 feet.  We passed Davy, who we'd been leap frogging all day, as he suffered through some gnarly allergies.  The air was warm and thick and I didn't know what to do with all that extra oxygen we were getting, hehehe!

At mile 43 my brain screamed to my body to stop moving and with a 4,000 ft assent to the top of the next peak, my soul was crushed.  I am a strong climber but for some reason, despite a good deal of strength left in my legs, each step seemed almost impossible.  I was so desperate I even had some of Jennilyns absolutely horrible caffeine gun.....I'm telling you, it is the worst thing you'll ever taste.  The choppy "trail" was so overgrown with long grass I was sure I was going to stumble.  I knew I had to push through each grueling switchback and eventually I would find respite and catch my second wind.  I'd already seen great runners falter.  Several were walking back down to Miner's park Aid station as we moved ahead.  But I would  just keep going forward. 

 And then, there it was!  The flags left the trail, reached above the tree line, and the next peak was in my sights.  Suddenly I felt a wave of happiness.  I was going to finish this race!  I knew I could do it.  Maybe it was simply the sight of the end of the climb.  More likely it was because I was back in my element, above timber line amongst the rocks and flowers, with a friend by my side.

PC: Jennilyn Eaton

A storm looked to be blowing in.  The wind was fierce and I felt a sudden chill.  I kept climbing.  We could see ahead what looked to be Ben and Scott, possibly Davy and another runner who had passed me somewhere near the beginning of the long assent.

The last Peak was under me and the Alunite aid station was in sight right below.  We had to traverse the long way around below the station before making our way back up.  "I see the lights," Jennilyn rejoiced.  Each bend I'd think we were there and alas, another bend would come along.  But this time, THIS TIME, there it was.

Atop my final peak PC: Jennilyn Eaton

I took more time at that aid station then any other (15 min) but I felt like a completely new person.  The broth and oranges would get me through the last 7 miles.  Jennilyn seemed slightly relieved to see the Chelsea she knew and loved, come back to life.  Matt Clark was right on my heels and it kept me moving.  I didn't want anyone to catch me.   I could make the last two climbs in the dark.  I could RUN without being told. I could finish the race.  And I did!  It took me about 2 and 1/2 hours to reach the end, faster then I expected and faster then many in front of me.  I felt happy.  I overcame demons and came out on the other side stronger, more resilient, and completely overwhelmed.

I finished the race slower then expected, 18:31, but I think EVERYONE who finished felt the same.  From elite runner Tim Olsen, "The course was a brute, but I'm darn grateful to have finished...especially steep and rugged course compared to most U.S. races I've done besides Hardrock."  Craig Lloyd, local ultra beast, "Tushers 93k. Hands down the hardest race I've ever run. Yes, for me it was harder than both Wasatch races" (The Bear and Wasatch 100).

Seventy-eight people started the race.  Only 45 finished.  There should have been more time allowed for the runners but I don't think anyone expected a race quite like that!  There were moments where I felt surrounded by darkness but the light that came was more intensified, more gratifying, and more powerful then I could have ever expected.  At no point in the race did I think about giving up.  There was no doubt that I'd reach the end.  Did I fear the rediculous cutoffs? Yes!  But I made it.  I didn't know what to expect on my first mountain race of ANY distance so I paced myself and never felt like I was 'racing.'  That is what got me through, steadiness. 

The mind is a pretty powerful thing.  Like I said before, my legs felt strong when they should have been done.  Somehow I overcame the giant "STOP MOVING" screaming from my brain and did something I never could have expected.  Put your mind to something and then do it! Make goals, and reach them!    Find a place where you belong.  For me, it's in the vastness of the peaks...

From @j_e10 8/2/15

On her battlefield in the throes
of rutted hillsides, with her
wounds of unstable shale, she
stood clad in armor of salt
stiffened running clothes and
fought demons of shifting
mountain silhouettes.  her face
was a sword of determination.
An exhausted victor, still
stumbling: oh, she was
magnificent to behold!

Slow and Steady Wins the Race....or it doesn't

Slow and steady wins the race.  Right?  Yeah, doubtful.  That was my attitude.  As much as I wanted to be the first to finish, I managed to continually come in last.  I was always a "bigger" kid.  I wasn't as fast or active as my siblings and though I loved ridding my bike, rollerblading, and running around the neighborhood with all of the other kids, I always seemed to be the slowest one around.  I came to accept this.

Then, one summer day, we decided to "hike" to the Timp. Cave up American Fork Canyon.  I don't remember the particulars on who was or was not there.  I think it was my mom, my brother Michael, sister Lizzie, my cousin Jimmy, and myself.  As we got to the paved trail hiking up the switchbacks on the side of the mountain, the other kids took off.  I longed to have their speed but I simply couldn't do it.  I just kept moving forward.  Eventually, my mom and I would catch up to them on the side of the trail, sitting in the shade, with a look of exhaustion on their faces.  I just kept moving forward.  The pattern continued:  they'd run ahead, stop for a break, and I would catch up and pass.
 

 I guess I was lucky that day because, while they were resting on a bench, I passed and reached the cave before any of them.  To this day, my mom tells this story and claims she always knew I would make an incredible endurance athlete.  I'd go months, even years, without running then run 8 miles and she would remind me that I was built to endure.  

Fast forward 12 more years to college.  For some crazy reason I decided to join the cross country team.  Yep, that's right!  It was a total joke!  First off, I had a good 35lbs on every other girl on the team.  Secondly, I'd never tried running fast in my life and at such short distances, 6 K, I wasn't even warmed up by the time the race was over, even if I ran it twice!   In fact, I ran in a regional race were I came in DFL!!  There were a couple hundred runners and I was dead last!!!!!!

 (NO PICTURE AVAILABLE)

And so my days of competitive running came to an end.  I was happy to run 5-10 miles a day all on my own.  Nobody watching.  Nobody noticing that my slow and steady was definitely not winning any races.  This was my life.  I would be the lone runner.  When people would ask if I ran I would tell them, not really, and let the conversation pass to another subject, ANY other subject.

My running got me through my first pregnancy.  It helped me get back into shape after.  It helped me with my second.  I would run 7 months pregnant and pushing a 18 month old in her jogger.   I moved to Oakley and just kept on running....slow and steady wins the race.

Six months or so after we moved to Oakley, I was invited to a "girls night" from some ladies in the neighborhood.   A group of them were training to run the Ogden Marathon.  To me one inquired, "Do you run Chelsea?  I heard somewhere that you did."  "Oh, not really," I replied.  "Well," she continued, "you should come out for a run with us sometime.  I just smiled and hoped the conversation would be forgotten.  I cant run with other people! Especially those who have been training for months!

The call came and I was asked to join.  With great apprehension, I agreed.  What had I gotten myself into??? I can't run 10 miles with other people!  I'll slow them down and say something stupid to boot.  But I went and I'll tell you what, it wasn't too bad.  The next week another invitation came.  This time 18 miles!  I hadn't run further then 10 miles since the birth of my second child and only once at that.  I decided to just do it and guess what, I was totally fine until about mile 16 when I fell back a bit, having only run a handful of times all winter.  A marathon?  Why not!  4 weeks later, I ran my first marathon, having only really run for a month.  It wasn't great, but it could have been a lot worse.  Five months after that, I ran my first ultra, 50 miles.  I just wanted to have fun so I didn't race at all.  Turns out my mom was right, slow and steady wins the race.  Did I win?  NO.  But I came in 2nd for the women and in the top 10 overall.   I had a lucky day.  Things came together.

So now I'm back at it after baby girl #3.  I've spent the past 5 weeks having the best time of my life playing in the mountains, meeting new friends, and loving every, often grueling, moment!   Am I the fastest? No?  Am I often the slowest?  Absolutely! But who cares!!  I never gave up.  Looking back at everything, I see that it isn't about winning at all.  It's not even about finishing.  It's about going over and beyond what you thought was possible.  It's about pushing yourself.  It's about giving all to your race, whatever that race is for you.  I've seen the best and smartest runners out there have a bad day and struggle to finish or not finish at all.  But what really matters is that they don't allow those moments to define them.  They go back out there and try again.

Playing on mountain tops:  Matt, Matt, Chelsea, Jennilyn and Kenzie

I realized I'd had the best time of my life "not training" for anything at all! So what am I going to do next?  I guess I'll run a 93K.  Will I win?  Chances are slim to none.  Will I even finish before the sun sets?  Possibly not.  Will I even finish?  I sure hope so.  But regardless of what happens out there, I wont give up.  I'll keep climbing my mountains!  I'll give it my best.  I may not win any actual races but I plan on winning the race that really matters, the race of life.  Everyday is a challenge.  Everyday brings obsticals we think we could never manage.  But I promise you, you can!  Put one foot in front of the other.  The only way you won't finish, is by standing still.  Slow and Steady wins the race!

Just keep going!  Me at Ragnar 2015

Refill My Soul

How do you measure the moments that bring life back into your soul?  The nights spent watching the moon rise over an unnamed peak by the shore of lake 10537 whisper quite words that shake you to your core.  Endless fields pass through the window of your '87 Loyal and the only sound is the Dylan or Niko Case writing etchings on your heart.  Everything else disappears into twilight. 

I float away, like a bird, gazing down on my life.  Three little girls giggle and I slowly fade into the background.  I hold onto those moments.  I remember...I must remember  because tomorrow may be filled with screaming children, chaos, constant demands, and clutter filling my home and my mind.  But if I wait to long to refill the cup, it becomes harder to reach out and grab the starry nights, almost impossible to find the peace, to find the reward.  And so I must again search in the "higher" places in the world but not of the world. 

It had been years since I had truly escaped into the mountains.  What was once my first place of refuge became almost forgotten; a distant memory.  I still felt passion for life.  I was on a cloud for months after the birth of my first two children.  The adrenaline and euphoria felt as I brought living, breathing life into the world kept me moving forward through sleepless nights and endless days.  It was as though I was running as fast as I could and the only sound I could hear was that of my shallow breaths.  But the mountains called to me and I finally had the courage to invite myself on an early morning run (aka power hike) up Mount Air.

Slowly, light filled the atmosphere and from the top of this very humble hill, the world seemed to expand farther then memory had served.  My legs ached, trying to remember their place as they pushed forward.  My heart beat, and my lungs expanded and I felt alive again, for the first time in a long time.

Ashley and Me: Mt. Aire PC Scott Wesemann

 I was home before 9 am.  My children scarcely knew I was gone and all day I couldn't hold back a smile.  What would usually set me off at home became trivial and I dealt with the situation with a certain ease.

I had to go back!  I had to find another trail, another peak, a lake or flower.   I wasn't fast.  I'd had my third child 6 months prior and it seemed especially difficult to find my footings, but I was pushing forward.  I hit several more peaks on my own in the early mornings but before long the rains set in and snow and ice covered the familiar paths.  A month or so passed and the only dirt my feet hit was the half a mile it took to get to the end of my unpaved road. 

I realized if I wanted to get out and feel that energy again, I had to go on my own.  But it had been years since I had spent so much time up those gnarly paths.  I'd lost my confidene.  What if I took the wrong line down and got stuck?  What if something happened to me.  Nobody would know where I was. 

I tried finding people who would go with me on my little adventures.  I asked friends and family, but they preferred running on roads over trails or had commitments that would not allow for such an early start time.  Due to my own social anxieties (I have a special set of quirks), I was afraid to reach out of my comfort zone and join in on group runs.  I hadn't run over 18 miles since before I got pregnant a year and a half ago and didn't know if I had the endurance necessary to keep up with anyone.  My once expansive knowledge of the mountains had dwindled into nothing and my speed.....don't even get me started on what happened there! 

Finally, I mustered up the courage to join a group up a peak I hadn't touched in years and once again, I was home.  Once again, I was able to find a peace of myself that had been lost in my commitment to others.  I am a wife and a mother first and foremost, but that is not ALL that I am.  I am not defined merely by my relationship to others.  I am an artist, an athlete, a friend.  I have a passion for music, for light and color, for simple beauty that is so often overlooked by others.  I laugh at jokes that others don't necessarily find funny.  I find myself sticking my foot in my mouth more then I should.  I question things and ideas.  I contemplate deeply.  I am ruled by my heart.  On these peaks and ridges those true parts of me are exposed and all fear escapes me.  I feel a rush, I feel a calm, I am home.

Moses, Isaiah, Nephi, the brother of Jared, all went into the tops of the mountains to speak with God. To fill my Soul, I go there also, "And many people shall go and say, Come ye, and let us go up to the mountain of the Lord, to the house of the God of Jacob; and he will teach us of his ways, and we will walk in his paths" (Isaiah 2:3).

Mt. Olympus

Mt. Nebo

what is beauty

Recent events have caused me to reflect on the idea of beauty as defined in our culture.  I have three little girls and more then anything, I want them to have a strong sense of self and KNOW that they are beautiful no matter what their size, shape, or abilities.  I want them to know that beauty is not defined by the media, but rather by their actions, their kindness and the strength of their character. I want them to make difficult but attainable goals and learn to reach for them.  I want them to be strong and resilient.  But as a woman who has struggled for so long with her own insecurities, I fear that I will be unable to teach them...

I haven't always been strong.  In fact, for years I was quite the opposite.  As a slightly overweight child (emphasis added), I would look at magazines and watch movies and think, "I wish I could look like that.  Too bad I'm so fat."  I was so wrapped up in this idea that I needed doe eyes and skinny waist.  Because I was so tall, I felt bigger then all my friends.  I was often overshadowed by my sister's incredible good looks.  Strangers would tell my parents how beautiful she was.  How could I ever live up to that?  I was even given the nickname Big C.  I didn't want anyone to know that it bothered me but inside I was degrading myself to nothing. 

As a sophomore in high school I discovered that there was something that I could do and I LOVED it.  HIKING!  My first backpacking trip changed me completely.  The first day of 10 was the hardest physical challenge I had faced up to that point in my life.  Each step was slow and calculated and wondered if I would even make it to camp.  But as each day passed, I became stronger and stronger (It helped that my pack was getting lighter from food consumption) and by the last two days, I was at the front of the pack.  I was hooked!

I made a conscience choice to get into shape.  I began running 5-6 miles a day.  I hiked and climbed while the weather was nice and come winter, I began snowshoeing and skiing.  I was strong and felt beautiful, not because of my size but because of my determination and confidence that I could be great. 

As I went into my Junior year, I began dealing with my stress and anxiety in a NOT SO HEALTHY way.  I began obsessing and controlling over physical things because I felt like everything else in my life was spiraling out of control.  I felt like the only three things I could control in my life were: grades, food, and exercise.  To make things worse, for the first time in my life people were telling me how beautiful I was, and how I was unrecognizable from my former self.  I felt an intense pressure to stay thin and before I knew it, I had dropped to 112 lbs (5'11").  <<<<YUCK

On a school winter back country trip in Colorado, some friends confronted me about everything.  How dare they!  I was strong.  I was the first one to camp!  I broke the trail while the seemingly stronger guys in our group couldn't!  There wasn't anything wrong with me!  My mental strength pushed through when my physical strength shouldn't have.  I refused to accept that I had a problem.

I was sent to the doctor for some shots for a trip to Peru and with weights in my pocket, I stepped onto the scale.  I was weak, unable to perform tasks that I could always do with ease. At that moment, I realized I had a problem and needed to make a change.

And so I did.  Each day was a struggle.  Each meal that I finished completely would physically and emotionally make me sick.  I spent many nights sobbing uncontrollably, wanting to vanish from existence.  Each day I got stronger.  The moments of frustration turned into moments of empowerment.  I rowed on the crew team my freshman year of college and ran cross country the next.  I started hiking and running and eating again.  But everyday was a struggle. Honestly, it still is.

My goal is no longer to be thin but to obtain strength and to do HARD things.  I have accepted that I will never naturally be as small as some but I can be just as strong, if not stronger!!!  I can run ultramarathons, and climb mountains!  I can stay up with a baby all night long and still manage to make it through the next day.  I can learn to be confident in myself, with my personality, with my passions.  I can make my friends, my husband, and my kids laugh.  I have learned to embrace my quirks instead of hide them.  I am ME and that is beautiful.

Do not hold yourself back!  As Marianne Williamson said, "Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. We ask ourselves, Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented, fabulous? Actually, who are you not to be? We were born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us. And as we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same."

That is what we must strive for.  Be brilliant, confident, and kind.  It is by our example that we teach our children.  Stop the cycle of negativity.  Stop demeaning yourself.  Just be you!  YOU are beautiful.