October 07, 2025
cataract canyon
Going rafting down the Cataract Canyon & Green river was a such a great trip for me personallly. MP has been inviting me to go for several years and I finally said yes. Having a guided and pre-planned trip on my calendar felt great. All I needed to do was show up and have fun :) – easy-peasy.
It took a couple days to settle into the routine but once I was able to let my mind release. It was a big group of strangers almost all of whom were there to spend time with the author Zac Podmore. It wasn’t exactly why I was there but I did enjoy learning.
Recounting the day-by-day happenings is in my journal and not worth repeating here but one thing I will not forget is that I was around a lot of palpable joy. So much laughing, big smiles, friends who support each other and clearly love what they do and who they do it with. I could feel connection and big friendships missing in my life but that didn’t mean that I was resentful of what I saw or felt despressed about returning to real life.
Being around it was like a warm blanket. I don’t have the words anymore to explain it but it was a huge part of why I loved the trip so much. Being able to absorb that big hug of human connection through osmosis.
People make choices to live the lives they want and I am making mine. One thing I’ll return to is that
I am coming to grips that sobriety is changing the way I interact with the world.
hello bob
Less than a week later I was in the Bob Marshall doing the Chinese Wall loop.
- My first solo backpacking trip in years
- My first time in The Bob
- Going into Griz country alone in late September
I was a little nervous about it for obvious reasons but I came back from the river knowing that I’m only here for a little while and I need to make meaningful choices. For better or worse it is just me and waiting for the ‘right’ time to do things is fucking stupid.
Solo trips will always carry greater risks but that is a conscious choice.
If I don't come back I went out doing what I love.
the world has changed
I am coming up on 150 days sober and after the two month it hasn’t felt that hard staying sober. Some days are worse than others. However, I went to a few public events recently and boy did I feel different. First was a fundraiser for the Missoula Avalanche center which I go to every year for the auction and to get some hype for skiing. When I got there I immediately noticed two things. First, everyone was drinking, I am sure that wasn’t actually the case but boy did I feel it. Second, nearly every single auction item has some kind of alcohol in it. Lastly, there was no N/A beer option.
I was looking forward to getting out and being around people but if I didn’t have to stick around for the raffle I would have left after getting some food. This was the first time I’ve noticed that kind of reaction to not drinking in public.
I thought I had gotten past that but perhaps it is just easier to feel comfortable staying sober if I am staying home.
The next one was the post-race event at 11 Miles To Paradise. At least there were N/A options available but I still felt very uncomfortable being around that much alcohol and drinking. This was crytalized on the ride home when one of the busses (not mine) had several coolers of free beer. I don’t know if they really did get drunk on the way back to Missoula but the ‘hell ya!’ vibe of free beer was not fun to be around.
Going to OddPitch and having a drink or two waiting for my food doesn’t feel like that.
I am not sure what to make of this for now.
home
The first attempt to remove this shitty wood platform deck was thwarted by realizing that the terrace walls were not well built and likely needed to be replaced or rebuilt soon(ish). It did not make a lot of sense to sink thousands of dollars into a nice new patio if it was going to be ripped out when the walls were redone. In the end I had folks come out and just fill the dirt area in with river rock. Not a bad comprise, it feels a lot nicer that the platform, I’m less likely to die stepping down when it freezes and it cost a shit ton less money.
Nice to have one big house project done this year. I still need to work on replacing the wood steps but that seems a lot easier once I get a few under my belt.
There is a lot of peace in my life but not much joy.
August 14, 2025
sobriety
Ninety days sober. It’s a milestone I’ve only reached twice in the past twenty years. The first time was when I arrived in Missoula, driven by the belief that something in my life had to change. Today feels different—quieter, steadier—but no less significant.
One other factor this time is that the N/A scence is so much better than it was even two or three years ago. Almost impossible to go a gas station, grocery store or bar that doesn’t have at least two that I enjoy, No more O’Dooles.
The first time
When I moved to Missoula in 2019 I came with the absolute convication that I needed to change that part of my life. I was grossly unhappy and had put on 40+ lbs and was over 200 lbs. From 2016 to 2018 I had worked my ass off got down to 150 from over 200 but gained it all back during the divorce. I took a big change in my life to demarcate a change in how I was living it.
I threw myself back into the gym, hiking and staying sober. That started in July 2019 and I am not entirely sure when I started drinking again. Best guess was it lasted about five months and I didn’t make it through the holidays without alcohol.
I know I talked a bit about this before but 90 days is a huge milestone for me mentally. It is hard to tell people that I ‘don’t drink’ anymore because if I find myself having a glass of wine or something I don’t want it to come across like I’ve fallen off the wagon. On the other hand I am committeed to staying sober. There is something about turning 40 that also made this an easier decision. Mid-life crisis? Who knows.
Some days sobriety is a full-time job but one day at a time and lets get to 120 days.
Journal
[Days sober] [Weight] [Date]
Part of my sucss has been journaling every day even if it is a to-do list. I try to write down what I ate, what I did and just basic life stuff. Sometimes it becomes more intimate and reflective but even the act of focusing how I spent my day helps a lot. I keeps me aware of the small things I acomplised and what I need to do.
This is a quite and simple life but it is my own and I am happy with it.
July 04, 2025
This is a long-overdue entry. I’ve circled around writing it more times than I can count, but I’m finally ready to lay it down.
2023 was a rough year—personally, professionally, and medically. The details aren’t worth unpacking here, but the short version is: I didn’t start either of the races I had planned. That alone felt like a major loss.
I came into 2024 wanting to rebuild. To be stronger. More grounded. I found a new running coach and set a stretch goal: to run my first 100-mile race. Even though I hadn’t raced in 2023, my Never Summer 100k from 2022 still qualified me for the Crazy Mountain 100M in July 2024. It was my A race and my entire year revolved around it.
Injuries hit early in the season and made me miss my first race in June. At first, I feared they’d derail everything. But they turned out to be setbacks, not end points. I stayed focused, if undertrained. By July, my fitness wasn’t where I’d hoped—but mentally, I was locked in.
My last big run was on the course’s technical sections, the ones I’d been most anxious about. I ran ~40 miles and 10,000’ over Fourth of July weekend. I came back much more confident about the race..
This part in the red box was the sketchiest. Just sheep tracks, no trail, and a full-on no-fall zone 😬 💀.
I was ready. I felt it.
July 18th
Seven days before race day.
I was taking a recovery ride on the Milwaukee Trail, passing the Boone & Crockett Club—a popular river takeout. Two people had pulled their raft onto the left side of the path and, without looking, swung it into the bike lane. I yelled, braked, and still hit them. I knocked one woman over and went down hard with my left elbow taking the full impact.
They were mostly fine and walked away after some bystanders checked on them. I couldn’t lift my arm. Fortunately, I had a towel in my bag. A couple of firefighters were nearby and rigged me a makeshift sling.
It felt bad, but I told myself: it’s just a dislocation. It’s just an arm. I can still race.
They walked me to Flippers, and I figured someone there could drive me to the hospital. Instead, a stranger called me an Uber. I walked into the ER and asked a nurse if they could just pop it back in so I could run next week. The look on her face said everything.
This is 100% a drugged-out smile. There was nothing to be happy about.
Shattered ulna and radius. Surgery the next day.
The orthopedic surgeon told me it was one of the most complicated repairs he’d done. He sounded almost… impressed.
That was it. 2024 was over before it had even started. I pivoted to recovery, physical therapy, and tried to aim myself toward 2025. I put on a strong front. Told myself I was already planning the comeback.
But I wasn’t being honest.
The mental hit of missing the race—the only thing I’d built my year around—cut deep. I gave myself permission to let go: no training, just comfort food and soft escapes. Pizza, beer, burgers, candy. I stopped moving and gained 25–30 pounds by the end of the year.
Then in January, two seizures. Another curveball. No driving for the rest of winter. I holed up. Went further inward. Ate more. Drank more. Smoked a lot of weed. I had zero drive to pull myself out of it. And the strange thing is, I wasn’t unhappy. I felt fine, even content. Life had thrown a lot at me in six months. Wasn’t I allowed to check out for a while? To lean into whatever made me feel good? Didn’t I deserve that?
I don’t know what exactly sparked the change, but sometime in early May, I had this sudden realization: although I’d been feeling happy and giving myself space to recover, I’d actually been deeply depressed since July. Part of me had known it—a quiet knowing, really—because I was repeating old patterns I’d fallen into during darker stretches of my life. But this time, it didn’t feel as sharp. It was more like a slow dulling.
I had been putting off the changes I knew I needed to make if I ever wanted to run—or even train—again. The modest hikes and half-assed workouts were just window dressing. They let me pretend I was still in it.
I’ve always had a complicated relationship with alcohol. I wouldn’t call myself an alcoholic, but “problem drinker” feels like a fair description. Three, four, five, sometimes even six beers in a night wasn’t unusual. Maybe that’s just semantic.
May 2025
I had to travel for work in mid-May, and I used that break to reset.
- I chose to stop drinking.
- To eat marginally better.
- To sleep better.
- To read more.
- To journal.
- To return to the first gym I joined when I moved to Missoula. That place embodies change and progress for me.
That was a lot to ask of myself, but I knew it had to start with the drinking. Everything else would follow. I gave myself the grace to keep using edibles if I wanted, but even those eventually lost their appeal. Now, they just make me feel uncomfortable.
It was isolating to make those changes—most of my social life revolved around alcohol.
My goal over the past two months has been to build new mental pathways and create habits I can actually sustain. So far, I’ve been more successful than I expected. I go to bed early and wake between 4 and 5 a.m. every day. For the first time in over a year, I feel rested.
I was never a morning workout person—but apparently I am now. And somewhere along the way, I also became an accidental vegetarian. I know the scale is just a number, but in these early stages,*seeing it drop has been a powerful validator. After six weeks of effort, the shift feels real.
I’m starting to train again with intention. I’m sketching out possibilities for my 2026 calendar, though I still think of it as a rebuild year.
My eyes are on 2027—Dark Divide 100M. That race has lived in my head since I started running five years ago. It feels like it was made for me. Even qualifying for it in 2026 won’t be easy.
you will also encounter technical trails, long, steep climbs, and
some very remote places. The course has over 26,000 feet of elevation
gain accompanied by a similar amount of descent. It also is over 75%
singletrack, much of which is quite technical. In the Roadless Area,
you will travel up to 16 miles between aid stations...In addition to
a high level of stamina, physical and emotional fortitude, and extensive
training, you will need to be comfortable with long stretches of wilderness
travel and navigational skills, including at night and by yourself. For many
of you, this will be the hardest race you will have ever done
Just a few things that have helped along the way:
/ Let’s fucking go \
