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.
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.
I had to travel for work in mid-May, and I used that break to reset.
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: