Growing up, my walls were covered not with the teen idols my friends adored, but will surf posters. Kelly Slater. Brock Little. Laird Hamilton.

I loved the sport surfing and often dreamed of being on the water inside a wave. But despite being able to boast I’d been surfing in three oceans, I’d never actually gotten up on the board, or been out more than a handful of days.

And by “surfing,” I mean I paddled a surfboard into the water of the Pacific Ocean, Atlantic Ocean, and the Tasman Sea, but never really got the hang of it.

The reality was that the waves scared me. I was much more comfortable diving under them and playing in them without a board. And without a mentor to help me learn the ropes, I was pretty clueless about how to get out; how to get through them; how to pick the right spot; and how to paddle into them. (Not to mention how to pop up, balance and keep my feet on the board before tumbling off.)

(more…)

I lined up at the starting line alongside eight hundred other runners from all over the country.

Nervous energy permeated the air. I jumped up and down to keep my blood warm. The moon rose over the summit of Pike’s Peak and as I looked up, admiring the beauty with awe at nature’s gift, I felt trepidation settle in my gut as I thought about the 26.2 miles of single track trail, not to mention the 7,800 vertical feet ahead of me.

I’d run this race before and this year, I had a plan. It’s all about the pacing.

When the starting gun fires, we all take off. I have placed myself in the middle of the pack and begin jogging slowing and steadily uphill towards the trailhead. It feels like everyone ahead of me is getting further and further away and everyone behind me is passing me.

I stay steady and strong. Despite my desire to push myself faster, I hold back. I know what’s coming.

Sure enough, as we hit the steep hill just before we get on trail, I begin passing.

And one by one, I continue to pass all those who had passed me and were now worn out less than a mile into the race. (more…)