Team Subkit did a quick interview that published on their website. It was an opportunity to share about being a small business owner, what I love about the life I’ve created and what I’ve learned along the way. A 2 minute read.
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I had a dream about my grandmother during the summer of 2020 amidst the early unknowns of the COVID pandemic, before I moved into the van. In my dream we were laying on the floor looking over a map of Scotland and she pointed out towns that I should visit and highlighted a 100 mile route by tracing her finger roughly over the way that I should run. From my perspective in the dream the route looked to be on the east side of the country.
We called her Grams, at her preference, and once a summer we would get to go visit her at her southern California condo on the hill with the view and also share time at my Aunt’s who lived closer to LA. I remember her taking us to make jewelry and putting Sun-In in our hair at the beach. Each evening she’d have a brown drink with a large ice cube and we’d eat off of tv trays in front of the television. I only visited a couple of times once I was old enough to fly alone, and before I got too busy with sports, dance team and boys. She lived an independent, socially active life until she abruptly passed away at 76 when I was 18 years old, 3 years before I became aware of ultrarunning and the life that would unfold for me.
When I woke up from the dream it was as if she was still in the room. Her presence was so strong in my dream I could feel her reaching across my shoulder to point out specifics on the map. Before I got out of bed I ordered a map of Scotland.
I met a friend for a run first thing that morning and was so excited to tell her about my dream. She shared about her experience hiking the 100 mile West Highland Way and that I would love it! I said it sounded cool, but the route Grams pointed out in my dream was on the east side of the country. Maybe I could check out both.
A couple of nights later I lay in bed looking at the map of Scotland I remember feeling confused and a bit disappointed. The shape of the country looked nothing like the map Grams had showed me (in my dream). I couldn’t make sense of it. I tossed it aside to read my book. A couple of pages later, I went to turn off my headlamp (I prefer to read by headlamp where ever I am) and glanced at the, now upside down, map and was startled to see the shape unfold for me. I could make out the lines she drew with her fingers and recognized my perspective. This meant the West Highland Way was on the side of the map Grams had pointed at. My body flushed with goosebumps.
With the state of the world I knew I couldn’t leave as soon as I wanted, but this has been brewing in my mind since.
Fast forward to this summer. From July 8 to September 16 I helped two dear friends, John and Kathleen, as the fixer on their PNT thru-hike. I got to finish out the route with them along the Olympic Peninsula coast line mid September. On one of our long days of hiking they shared that they would only be home for a couple of weeks before heading off to Europe, including a stop in Scotland. My brain came alive and I shared the story of the dream. I have traveled to Thailand (where I was the magistrate at their barefoot beach wedding) and more recently (2019) to Iran with them. I promptly invited myself along and just as quickly they asked if they could join me on the trail.
Rolling with the inertia started on the trail I found flights and was able to use miles to purchase tickets and will continue to follow up on COVID travel protocols. I even packed my pack over a week early. I meet up with Kathleen and John in Edinburgh on October 20, and the way our days are planning out we should be on or just finishing the West Highland Way on my 44th birthday. I am so thankful for this opportunity to honor Grams.
I moved into my van during COVID, August 1st to be exact. At that time the world didn’t know how long the lockdown would last or who could be trusted. My 35lb, 5-year-old mini-australian shepard and I had to safely navigate staying in driveways, city parks, scenic pull-outs and trailheads. We remain lucky and grateful to have many dependable spots as well as the freedom to move about within our community, and share time in friends’ homes.
As the world’s reality continues to shift, vaccines and understanding both improving (I write optimistically), and I am safely able to interact with others, I am continually reminded of the awesomeness of this mobility. To witness and share in life experiences with many people because my little home is mobile remains the most unexpected gift.
Turns out my appreciation for van life was imprinted early. Amidst my first solo multi-week road trip since COVID, my Pa first texted me a photo with the message “Your first van life trip, Morro Bay, CA 7/20/1978” where I am sitting in a car seat just above the slider door step. A couple more photos followed of him installing my child seat and one of Ma cooking at the small two burner kitchenette. The van, it’s interior and our clothing all screaming 1970s. And it looks like I’m smiling. 9 months old, chubby elbows and ankles, sitting in my car seat mounted on the variegated brown shag carpet, I look at the eyes and smile of my much younger self now and think, “home. I am home, and my home is on wheels.”
The 1975 Ford E250 high top van conversion Family Wagon had a bunk above the driver and passenger seats that my parents added a baby gate to create my infant sleeping loft. The dinette folded flat and the seat cushions laid out to make a double bed where my parents slept. There is a story I’ve heard multiple times, perhaps it was on this very trip captured in the photos, that my Pa woke up to see my chubby legs and diapered butt hanging through, caught only by my head. Instinctually he hoisted my butt to reverse the awkward hanging baby back up into the bunk. And likely adjusted the gate so my wiggly sleeping body didn’t sneak through ever again.
There are a lot of teachable moments living full time in a van. I’ve learned to manage power usage, and how to love to be alone. I add Blue DEF without spilling a drop (most of the time) and scare rats away with dryer sheets. I’ve modified the simplest things, with the sewing mastery of my Ma, which make the biggest difference in a small space. I’ve lived with the same relatively few things for nearly a year now and am starting to wonder what I will do with the six 5’x10’ crates I have in untouchable storage.
This minimal living reminds me of what I love about backpacking. I love the freedom of having everything I need on my back. Kind of like a turtle carrying its home. I love minimizing the weight and carefully selecting items that have multiple uses. Within the larger shell of my van the same principles apply, I always have everything I need with me, everything has to have more than one use and everything has to be used. With one exception. I have a Luggable-Loo toilet (essentially a 5-gallon bucket with a toilet seat) that is brand new and it is my intention to keep it that way. I feel responsible to have to have it for “just-in-case” but I’m keeping it as a personal challenge to never have to use it. (*Update* the luggable-loo has now been used! A late night street sleep made it mandatory)
Some surprising gifts that came with mobile living showed up soon after we took to four wheels. While my Ma was in and out of the hospital multiple times last fall, I didn’t need to abandon my life and home to be present and help out, I just took my home with me and for multiple days at a time I could be there with them and likewise have a dependable place to park. I witnessed the passing of a dear friend’s husband, week by week. I stayed each Monday night to check in on her while he was in a care facility and continued during his final weeks at home. I’ve entertained friend’s kids in the van and enjoyed their wonder of what it is like to live in such a small space. I’ve learned to ask for help. I’ve learned to take solo time. I visited the van’s namesake’s hometown and feel closer to her in death than I did in life. I get to explore the physical world, which triggers deep personal introspection – funny how ever unfolding landscapes behind a windshield create a similar curious headspace as running long distances. All surprise gifts from mobile living.
I’m quickly approaching a year living in my van – less three months during the winter where I moved in to attempt a relationship, fix the heater, write the second edition to my book(!!!), and dry out a bit amidst a typical PNW rainy season. What was intended to be a 3-to-6 month bridge-the-gap between condo sale and home purchase has easily stretched out with no end in sight. I feel lucky I’m not desperate to try to buy in this high priced, all cash offer market, and there are also times I wonder when PD and I will find our little place to call home each night. But I quickly remember, we are home, and our home is on wheels.
The cleanup plan starts before the run. When I pull into the trailhead I strategically park the van to create privacy so that I can spray and get the mud off my body before hopping in and shutting the door to change clothes and get warm by the heater. On downpour or even gnat-piss rainy days it helps to prop out the awning to prevent the interior near the slider door from drops and provides an outside spot to strip off the muddy, wet clothes. I have a wood shower mat that I put out and a separate foot pump hose to spray down the dog first. PD, my four-legged running buddy, typically gets cleaned first and towel dried. The trick is keeping her in the van afterward and out of further mess.
“This one is stout,” he said as he placed his trekking poles at shoulder height and pulled himself straight up a four-foot ledge. I blurted a laugh, “If Jeff is calling something ‘stout’ I’m intimidated as hell.” Turns out my intimidation was validated. The slope required leaning forward to counter the weight of my backpack, which would have pulled me off the slope. Putting my nose over my toes, as I learned in my earlier rock climbing days, and depending heavily on my poles and the traction of my Vasque Trailbender shoes to cling to the hillside, much like a cat to curtains, I clawed, the steepest steps of my life. Once again, I found Jeff sitting perched on a stump, this time in the shade.
Read more on Mount Baker Experience’s site.
It was such a pleasure to work with Oliver Lazenby, the editor at Mount Baker Experience. This project has been in the works for over a year! His communication, editing and having this final product is a special way to capture the memories from that most amazing experience with three incredible individuals that I also get to call friends.
This has been an interesting and very rough week. I have felt a level of grief that, now observing it, shows me on a completely new level what I am capable of feeling for my community, for loss and the physical impacts that can have. I wasn’t able to sleep for my buzzing anxious mind and realized I wasn’t fueling my body, meaning I was forgetting to eat. Those of you that know anything about me, fueling and running are my grounding forces. Lack of sleep and not fueling took additional tolls on the already rough situation. Running is thankfully engrained in me at this point and I continue to get out on daily basis even if for only a few miles. When the Governor’s press release was announced and as my morning unfolded, I took my phone and headphones on a tough workout so I could listen to the impending news that would impact our State and more personally, the beloved Chuckanut, in the place that I felt strongest; running hard on our local trails. After the announcement I texted my boyfriend and called my parents and then ran home to meet on the phone with Kevin and Tyler to make our decision and discuss our communication.
For two days my body and mind rattled with emotions and sensations familiar to times of fear and loss and my brain held the desire for the ability to move through, but remained stuck in it.
I finally took a minute last night and sat in an Epsom salt bath. Admittedly those salts have been reserved for tough workouts and deep muscle soreness. But even though I wasn’t sore, something clicked to get in the tub. Perhaps feeling beat up emotionally has a parallel to being beat up physically. Ironically, the bath bomb I used delivered a fortune cookie message that read, “the time to relax is when you don’t have the time for it.” With PD’s nose on the edge of the tub, I put my head back, listened to a podcast, closed my eyes and took some deep breaths. I meditated on an intentional mindset, this will help. And it did. After drying off and getting dressed I noticed a different sense of calm. Later, while filling up on potatoes and pizza I summarized “I feel like I’m emerging from an emotional hangover'“. And this morning after an amazing night’s sleep (the first all week) my resolve is fired up.
I offer this understanding that timing is everything. I’ve been through two days of tears and a week of no sleep, so perhaps my body just finally shut down. But I’ve got to believe that taking those minutes to take care of myself is why I’m able to move into a new headspace around the situation. And I know this will continue to change, so the importance of giving ourselves the time to feel the feels, pause from taking care of to-dos and others, and take the breathing moments for ourselves to reset is a powerful message to carry through this pandemic and life.
There are countless examples of people affected by the Coronavirus. On the grand scale postponing the Chuckanut 50k is, while personal to me and the surrounding community, a small one. And it is a gift. As we work through our situation we have understanding and empathy for other events, communities and entities that are having their experience and working through their feelings.
The Chuckanut 50k was my first ultra in 2000. I have been race directing since 2003. It is one of the most consistent things in my life. It involves people I love and perfect strangers. It something I pour my heart into for a portion of each year and for the last four years I get to work with two incredible men, Kevin and Tyler, to make it happen. This race represents so much more than running 50k. To the community the Chuckanut 50k provides an opportunity for individuals to set a goal, train and tackle something they maybe didn’t think possible. But that is just one part. The Chuckanut 50k also brings together a larger group of people to cheer on those runners and a community to support them and celebrate the work to get to that point and whatever happens that day. I am learning a lot working through this situation and I look forward to creating that space again in some way for many of these reasons.
To say I am really enjoying this watch is an understatement. I’m really dorking out on it. As runners the gear we have to dork out on is thankfully very limited, I love the simplicity of what we really need to go for a run. The extra gadgets (should) make it fun (not distract). Thankfully, my dorking out is supported as I’m surrounded by a tribe that is also keen on the Coros Apex.
Let me back up. I am a self-described spreadsheet dork, but I’m not a data driven person. Most of the content on the spreadsheets I share with my coaching clients is about their experience and how their body is adapting, what came up on the run, what feels good and what niggles we need to deal with. While mileage, run time and elevations are recorded, those are bits that help inform the bigger picture. Typically pretty easy data that can be gathered by looking at a clock before you leave and knowing your route or much, much easier with the many technologies and apps that are available to us now.
I’ve run with great watches that I've held on to for many years for both the nostalgia (one of these Epsom watches saw me through the training and racing the Gaoligong 165km) and for how they function. And the overall trend is that this wrist technology keeps improving.
Two weeks ago I received a Coros Apex 42mm (in white) I plugged it in to charge and simultaneously downloaded the app on my iPhone. Both of these amidst pulling food together for me and my pup. The next morning I unplugged it from the USB and wore it for a run, again with my pup. Super straightforward on toggling through to get it to start. While out, I spun through the screens to see run information but the layout was different than my ideal, so when I got home I opened the app to see about changing things up and watched as it downloaded. I didn’t have to tell it to do anything! (remember I don’t upgrade my technology that often so it is highly possible that other watches have done this for a while). The data that showed up on the screen was so easy to understand and so quickly digestible I thought, this kind of data I can do and will geek out on. Touching through the icons on the bottom of the app I easily found the device settings and made a few changes to the run screens. Next run, the next day - perfect.
A lot of my close running buds are already well ahead of me on the Coros scene and in watching and listening to their rave reviews and ease of use I will admit I was influenced to check it out for myself. One quick over the shoulder session helped me now with watch in hand understand all that I was wearing. One example: I’m not a fan of wearing much to sleep, especially on my limbs, but for the data I thought I’d try. I found it pretty cool to see the purple/blue wheel download and let me know I should get some more Z’s. A good reminder and some cool information about my heart rate, how deep I sleep and for how long. All super helpful information when considering mileage, training, and most important, data to help understand how I’m feeling and operating during the day.
Another highlight: in the 2ish weeks I’ve had it and worn it daily/nightly I’ve charged it 3 times, including that initial charge. This opens doors when traveling! Not having to carry charging cords (and lose them) because the watch will definitely last for a long weekend - heck a whole week! - is liberating! Case in point, my dear friend Monica wore her’s for the Bighorn 100. It was fully charged, she ran for 30+ hours and it still had 65% charge left. Not only was it super accurate, it lasted the entire race and then some. Again this may be old news to some, but I was and am impressed.
A few fun moments - I used the Indoor Run feature to track my bouncy house jump fest. I got to test it on a road bike ride just this morning. It buzzes when I get texts and phone calls (a feature I can turn off), that has been helpful when I’m moving around the house & garage and not keeping my phone close, not as helpful in yoga class. Four of us, all with Coros (completely geeking out around the table), stayed together the night before the Needles 50k and easily synced the course map to the Coros App in case we needed to check location during. I get a little buzz when I meet my daily goal - this actually startles the heck out of me, but I’m the girl that jumps at the silliest little things.
Final highlight: The best gear is the gear you don’t notice, doesn’t bother, while in motion. This watch meets that standard. I mean I’m even able to wear it to sleep.
As recently deemed an OG by Ryan Van Duzer on his Run with Ryan interview, I’m pretty psyched and thankful to have this new upgrade. I’d love to hear your thoughts on your favorite gear and the highlights for why it’s the best.
If you know me, you know I love sending cards (and now books!) through the mail. I enjoy the weekly errand of stopping at the post office to post packages and buy stamps. I get a little joy from flipping the flag up on my mailbox to let the mailman know that there is a letter to be carried away. And selfishly, I love imagining the surprise on the other end when a loved one finds a hand written letter or card amongst the incessant junk mail that plagues my own mailbox.
And then there is time. Schedule. Travel. And a busy mind that does the best to plan in advance, but sometimes misses a few things. While I have the best intention to mail birthday cards, and sometimes anniversary ones too, if I’m on planes and in cars more than in the comfort of my little condo it is a little more difficult to find the headspace, a stamp and a card that resonates for my intended recipient. In (to my email inbox) walks Paperless Post. So fun and creative! I just played around with some different cards and sent out one for my Sister’s birthday, which is today! I also got her a paper card out of habit, but it is fun to know that she will see this before I see her.
I’m curious to know if people prefer USPS to email both to receive and to send. Thoughts below? For now, I’m thinking I’ll double up while I get the hang of this and step out of my old ways.
I travel a lot. Monthly for sure. Sometimes weekly. But it has been a long time since I have taken what I call a true vacation. I get to travel to incredible spots and I enjoy the heck out of my adventures and work trips. It is not uncommon to set an auto-response because there simply will not be time or access to connect. This week away just before the late December holidays felt different, I got to make up each day as I went, auto-response was a choice, and I got to sink into a new environment as opposed to run through.
Spending a week at Rancho La Puerta was definitely a new environment to me. The description on the home page sounded like an incredible combination of some of my favorite things- classes, activities, good food and trail - as well as an introduction to some fancier experiences that my tired body and mind could greatly benefit from. My parents were a little worried that I would be bored, I honestly welcomed the challenge. I can’t remember the last time I was bored.
Upon arrival I was pleasantly surprised to find a trifold brochure crammed full with a varied schedule for each day of the week. Options included Water Aerobics, HIIT, Yoga, Zumba, Lectures, Strength & Sculpt, Jewelry making, Circuit Training, Cooking Classes, Aerial Silks and too many more to put here, but you can see their sample class schedule to get an idea of what I’m talking about. It is a movement junkie’s dream, and just like they warned I was sore and moving a little more tentatively by Day 3.
The grounds offer plenty of great community spaces as well as space to wander off and find quiet isolation. I read two books while sitting in the sun and spent a few hours each day writing - two things I promised myself on this vacation. I got to stay in a Villa Room which had complete privacy, an outside deck that viewed the mountains and the lovely benefit of a wood fireplace that I curled up to one night to work on my writing project.
The Resort Staff paid such incredible attention to details, they call it “Ranch Magic” and I believe it comes from everyone there truly enjoying their day to day life being a part of the Ranch. Everyone I talked to, from land maintenance, to the coffee and wine bartender, class instructors and kitchen staff truly loved their work, loved the benefits provided to them as Ranch employees, and seemed to care about the experience created for each person. I love getting to practice Spanish and connect with those that are there daily in addition to the tourist/visitors and I was pleased to learn, but not surprised, that everyone dines on the delicious, local meals, and that there are classes available to the staff. The Ranch’s approach to quality of life applies to everyone involved.
I got the quick sense that I am not their typical demographic. I awkwardly walked along as the concierge rolled my duffle to my room while explaining the layout of the grounds. I was surprised daily as needs I didn’t know I had were met right as I needed them. But through Ranch Magic and the calm, open setting I realized there is no one demographic that fits, there is room for all ages, shapes and backgrounds.
I loved getting out on the trails, and finding the tracks well groomed and maintained to avoid erosion. The mountain was well signed with trail names, but I had to depend on my watch for mileage. Something else I’m not used to was having the hiking guides and rangers posted sporadically around the trails so concerned with my well-being. I smiled and talked my way past the passionate rangers who were worried about my safety. I rarely do this, but to ease their minds I called myself a professional runner, ensuring that I would take good care, be cautious and finally promised to call the concierge when I returned.
My favorite morning was that long run day talking my way past the rangers and racing the clock back to my room to make a quick change of clothing to ensure I made the breakfast buffet. Breakfast, definitely my favorite meal, and Lunch were served buffet/cafeteria style with a 2 hour time window to allow people to work around the varied class schedule. Dinner was seated and each night I joined a different group of people and enjoyed learning about where people came from and gaining insight to how others were spending their days. A common question was, how many times have you been to the Ranch? It was not uncommon to hear people returning 10, 20, 30+ years in a row. Another aura to the Ranch Magic.
The fancier opportunities that complimented the variety of classes included a women’s spa, befriending the lovely docent Jane who added tinsel to my hair, a delicious cooking class and tour of the farm, a facial, a seaweed wrap, makeup application and reading in a heavy bathrobe one afternoon on the quiet floor of the women’s spa.
My only curiosity left unmet, was the opportunity to meet Deborah, the Ranch founder. At 96 years old she is still traveling the world and speaking to health and wellness. She wasn’t able to make it to the Ranch the week I was there due to a broken hip, the first medical issue she’s had in years. I hope to meet her someday and share a hike on those trails.
The last evening we were entertained with a live salsa band and wine poured freely at the dinner tables (the first time all week). It didn’t take too long before the group I was sitting with all made it to the dance floor. We’d shared in classes all week and as I spun around testing out the refreshed salsa moves, I had to smile at the way this moment captured the week. I remember thinking, and suddenly its over and marked by dancing around with a bunch of people I barely know but we are friends through this shared experience. The funniest and perhaps telling moment - the last song was at 8:45pm. I was packed and in bed by 10pm.
Never bored. Returned well rested, well fed and ready to jump into the holidays and new year. I can get into this true vacation thing… :) I have so much gratitude for this experience. An amazing, healing and very timely gift.
InVideo created the following Video blog using my words and visuals from both their stock and Rancho La Puerta.
It hit me that I have some amazing running highs to draw from when I realized how incredible this experience was. I called my parents after we finished the race, which is something I’ve done for years after events. They always thank me for calling to share my excitement and it was noticeable how much this experience meant to me. Sharing with them is always important and to help them understand this event’s meaning for me I told them that guiding at the CIM Marathon was equal to the enthusiasm I felt winning the Hardrock 100. They were at the Silverton finish line, they knew how much that meant.
Scott Jurek and I with our runners. Scott helped get me into ultrarunning. We stood on the Hardrock together in 2007. He and his wife Jenny, one of my bestests, easily talked me in to guiding.
I felt so much vulnerability, ownership of needs, and real caring for all present in that room during the awards Sunday afternoon. For nearly two hours, each person took a turn to share about their experience being engaged in the weekend, whether racing, guiding or supporting. I really appreciated the stories of connection. And how important it was for every individual sitting in that room, especially the athletes with visual impairments, to connect with people in their similar situation. To laugh, tease, learn from each other, and support each other. To have an entire weekend that they weren’t the odd man or woman, the different one in the sighted world that surrounds each on a daily basis. We have amazing skills, access to technologies, and resources available to make sense of our surroundings with and without sight. The B&VI community is an amazing niche of people, like ultrarunners, and other creatives that move around and experience this awesome world.
When it came to the race, earlier that morning, I wanted to do a good job. I felt a huge responsibility in lending my sight to this man I barely knew. This was reinforced at 4:30am when I snapped off the bedside lamp, the only light on, on my way out and had to make my way to the hotel door. I stumbled along, feeling along the bed and the walls to exit the hotel room. I couldn’t remember what side the door handle was on and floundered trying to simply get out the door. It hit me that’s how some of the runners in our group experience the world around them.
To help Kyle run a marathon he helped me understand his obstacles. Keep him from tripping on a manhole cover and other variation in the road, jumping over timing mats or onto sidewalks, or from bumping into another runner. (helpful link: United in Stride guiding video) I took it upon myself to share more details from the experience so that he could gain visuals of what we were passing. The changes in the neighborhoods, the wide-open spaces along the forever vista of the rolling road, to the massive four-lane intersections packed with people bundled against the morning chill, holding coffees and decorated signs. He asked me if we were going by a farm and before I could ask how he knew, I smelled the manure too.
To be able to offer the best support, I appreciated that Kyle gave me the guidance I needed by asking for exactly what he needed. “Please guide more here, it feels weird underfoot. Countdown before I need to jump over something, 3, 2, 1, I’ll jump on 1. I’ll hold your arm for this section.” He also easily understood my need to go to the bathroom multiple times in the first 10k. When guiding alone the first half marathon, I would lead him to the white line which he could follow walking and then I would dart into the bushes. What can I say? I am a trail runner! And caffeinated beverages kept me functioning the previous 10 days on the road. The fact that needs could be easily expressed and met made the experience respectable and equal.
4hr pace group starting pack
Kyle and I shared the start line shuffle and first 13 miles together, calling out cracks and giving visuals, but also running, chatting with each other and engaging in conversation with others around us. The chilly morning. The sun finally touching and warming our backs, he noticed it first. Other than the red tether between us and the “Guide” bibs on my tank top we were two runners in a marathon race sharing an experience. “Please guide a bit more here Krissy.” His helpful reminder now and again so I didn’t forget that key role.” And “Thank You.” Kyle said thank you after every visual call out, grabbing him water, or pointing out the trash can by guiding his hand towards it. I remember telling him after the ump-teenth crack that he thanked me for pointing out, “It is awesome how much gratitude you show Kyle, if you get too tired to say thank you I totally get it.” He never stopped.
Half way through we ran under a massive arch, which I later learned another guide ran her runner right into in an awkward moment that both were able to laugh at. After the next turn I handed over the red tether to Sablle. We had met the night before at the hosted dinner and texted photos that morning so we would know what colors to look for on each other. She was super obvious for me to spot with her arms up in the air, jumping up and down to great us. She was excited, and keeping warm at the same time. Committed to the run and loving the experience I opted to hang with the duo and support as I could.
Sablle stepped right in to calling out the pile of cups underfoot and I stepped into stride beside them aware of how much I’d been talking for the last two hours. I was able to support their duo by getting water at the aid stations, instead of leaving Kyle alone to walk through the aid station and grab him water, Sablle could continue running with him and I went and brought water back. A few times I let runners ahead know that we would be passing on the left. But one guy caught all three of us off guard. We later guessed he was in the relay and had dropped his timing chip. In his flurry, like a horse with blinders, he charged in front of Sablle, clipped Kyle’s calf and squatted in front of me to pick up something off the ground. He stood up and almost made a scene, but quickly registered that he’d just charged a runner with limited sight and his guides and apologized.
Aside from our one exciting incident, we kept pace and chatted. I found myself encouraging both him and my aching hip flexors to keep moving forward. Pavement hurts, yet, made much more enjoyable as a closely shared experience.
Sablle guiding Kyle. Kyle encouraging another runner from our community.
The chaos of nearing the finish made more sense for me to run just ahead of the duo. Kyle was picking up speed and passing the late race faders. It was inspiring to turn around and see the determination on his face and focus on Sablle’s navigating those final turns. Nearly yelling at me to step back alongside, Kyle insisted that I cross the line with them. A familiar sentiment I’ve felt for years pacing and being paced. Sharing the final step across a finish line has a unique bond.
Still acting as his eyes we meandered through the chaos of a marathon finish. Receiving medals, snacks, bottles of water, turning down a tyvek jacket and finding a place to snap a selfie of our team.
Finish line Selfie
Our eyes and the information we receive are both fascinating and not to be taken for granted. Listening to the keynote speaker on Saturday night reminded me of the time I lost my vision at the Hellgate 100K in 2007. It was scary and I remember thinking I would much rather break a leg and never be able to run again then not be able to see. How would I start my new job? Navigate the world? But after this weekend’s experience I see so much ability and so much vision for what is possible. We each have a responsibility to how we respond to the challenges that are thrown our way. Our choices influence the people around us, and impact our lives. The lightness, directness and gratitude captured in participating in the CIM with Kyle and Sablle and the B&VI community is a highlight in 2018 and a new add to my life. I immediately signed up for United in Stride as a sighted-guide in hopes to be able to help a local runner who is VI train for their upcoming race. I also added a B&VI division to the Chuckanut 50k. Currently we do not have a B or VI runner in Bellingham and we didn’t have any register for Chuckanut, but we never had a sighted-guide offered either. I look forward to seeing what is possible.
