I can’t believe I started running when I was 40 years old, and now I’m 48. Where does the time go? It was 8 years ago today that I started on this adventure.

After a slow and easy winter, I got back to running in April.

Knowing I’d be slow, running on flat ground didn’t sound appealing, so I went for the hills.

Being out of breath and slow just ain’t a fun time. That’s why I started seeking hills to climb, knowing that I’d be slow, but at least I was climbing a mountain, you know?

I always remember the old running adage, “Hills are speedwork in disguise.” I wasn’t looking for speed; I was looking for strength and fitness. Every step up a hill was a single leg press, and every step down was a forward lunge.

Since starting on April 19th I’m down 12.5lbs, and I am definitely stronger and fitter. I’ve put in 75 hours on mostly trails, covered 283 miles, and climbed 36,800′ in elevation (about 7 miles).

Mind you, I’m mostly power hiking the hills, but you gotta walk before you can run. And when I do run, I’m finally able to nail a 12 minute mile pace, which is definitely an improvement from a few months ago when I’d run 14-15 minute miles. A few more months, I’m sure I’ll be able to hit a 10:30 minute mile pace.

The fun part has been how good it’s felt, which is why I keep doing it. It feels good going up a “mountain,” you know? I’ve gone up a trail called Leg Destroyer a few times. Some runs I’ve climbed 1,400′.

It’s been fun getting back in the flow, building up a base again, and making every run an adventure. I might not be doing epic 100 mile challenges just yet, but like I said earlier, gotta walk before you can run.


The subject line above is from John Durham Peters, as quoted from this post ‘Research Techniques.’

Running is my exercise of choice. I warm up very slowly, to the point where the first 20 minutes always feels like a mistake, and I should be doing something else. But then I’m four miles into a run and start thinking “maybe I should do eight miles today!”

But really, the joy of running for me is not thinking, or at least, not fretting. Not worrying.

There’s taxes to be paid, deadlines to meet, tasks to complete, sure. Those will always be there.

But when running, and when I’m truly present, I notice just the important things – the ground below, the sweat on my arms, watching my breath, keeping my heart rate in check.

In that moment, at mile one or eleven, they’re the most important things in my life. If I don’t pay full attention, and stay clear minded about such matters, it could be trouble.

So running forces me to be present, which really makes you wonder what’s important in life. Like I said, the taxes, the deadlines, yep… those will never end.

But someday I will run my last mile.
Someday I’ll run up a favorite hill one last time.
They’ll be a time when I can’t just walk out the door and stroll around the block.

That’s why I keep moving, and spending money (ooops) on things that keep moving, like ultralight backpacks and tents so I can be in the woods more, or another pair of trail shoes because I use them enough that they fall apart.

So I wouldn’t say I exercise that hard, but I flirt with that level of pain. I get close enough. It’s a challenge, but not impossible.

A few months ago I started running up this road that leads to the Appalachian Trail, and it used to take me 30 minutes, from the parking lot to the peak.

Back in April it took me about 45 minutes. I gained some weight, hadn’t been running so much.

It’s June and I’m at about 34 minutes, which is 34 minutes of not thinking about a fucking thing in the world except reaching the top and not dying.

“I think it’s part of why I love running. It removes me from the internet for a bit. I listen to music. I can just think about the music for a while and have experiences with that. I can focus on one thing so it is not so fractured. I think it goes back to slowing things down. Slowing things down is a way to spend more time with stuff.”

Brandon Stosuy


Just about two months out from the Pride 5K, founded by total bad ass Nikki Hiltz.

Posting this here because not everyone is on Instagram, and so maybe they wouldn’t see this otherwise.

Register here, knowing that you’re helping support the mission of  Point of Pride.

Point of Pride is a nonprofit organization that provides financial aid and direct support to trans folks in need of health and wellness care. Their mission is to provide access to gender-affirming resources such as chest binders, breast forms, and other essential items to those who may not have the means to acquire them. Besides simply donating money to Point of Pride, our goal is to make sure that every transgender person knows that there is an entire community of runners who love and support them and believe they belong everywhere they decide to be.

And if you don’t think you can run 3.1 miles, I bet you can walk it, and that counts, especially when the money is going to such a good cause.


Some wise words from Coach Bennett from Nike Run about running in the hot weather:

“You don’t get fit by getting heat stroke. You don’t get stronger by being dehydrated. You don’t build endurance by getting sun burned. You don’t get faster by getting hyperthermia. And you don’t earn my respect by putting yourself in dangerous conditions that you are unprepared for. You lose it. Maybe that doesn’t matter to you. But I hope you know that you’ll never run as well as you can by hurting yourself. And that’s what prolonged exercise in extreme temperatures does. It hurts you. It doesn’t make you better. It doesn’t make you stronger. Be smart. be safe. Take care of yourself like you’d take care of someone you care about. Remember that sometimes the best run is no run. If you can do all those things then you’ll be one day closer to running that best run of yours.”


Today is my seven year “run-iversary.”

Seven years ago today a good friend texted me from a party, saying someone there challenged him to run a mile in eight minutes (this was seven years ago, so details might be fuzzy). He ran it, though it took longer than eight minutes. I tried it, and it took me 13 minutes, and I had problems walking down stairs for the next week.

According to Strava, since I started in 2016 I’ve gone on 1,419 runs, for 5,160 miles, in 1,006 hours, and climbed 229,692′ in elevation.

Biggest thing I learned? Slow down. Savor every fucking footstep, because one day each place you run will be the last time you ever run it.

Here’s some photos I took from runs over the years:


Seen tonight on a nice adventure run. Got dropped off 2.5 miles outside of town, had to run back home on some sketchy roads with no shoulders. Wasn’t too painful, but always on edge when dancing on the pavement with multi-ton vehicles.


I guess I really ramped up my half-marathon training, as I ran eight miles yesterday on this gorgeous, if a bit noisy, paved trail through the suburban landscape. The Ironton Rail Trail is about 13-ish miles of paved path.

Part of this trail goes right next to a shooting range. Like, DIRECTLY next to it. It’s sort of terrifying, since, well, this is America.

Continue reading “IRONTON TRAIL”


Since I signed up for a half-marathon and haven’t really been training for a half-marathon, I’ve been doing my best to figure out how I’m gonna run this damn thing and not injure myself.

I’ve alway believed in the power of “time on feet,” so I’m prioritizing the amount of active time I’m on my feet. Been trying to walk at least two intentional miles per day, which means breaking a little bit of a sweat.

On this day I walked two miles in the morning, then set off for this adventure.

Basically I ran for one hour up the trail at an easy pace, so I made it about 4.25 miles, stopped my watch, and turned around to walk the same route back to my car.

The walk took me around 90 minutes, but it was great. I could literally see zero humans for half a mile in front of me and behind me, so I took the time to talk to myself and manifest some good shit in the coming months.

Is this a sure-fire plan to make it through the half-marathon? Maybe. But I guess I’m more just training for the hurt, the discomfort. I know I can run the four of six or maybe eight miles at an easy pace, but it’ll be fun to see how everything else comes together, which is why I’m just spending as much time on my feet as I can.