Monday, September 1st
Birthdays are more than just adding another number to your age. For me, they’re a chance to mark “firsts” and to reflect. They invite us to pause in the present moment, to soak in the love that others sprinkle upon us, to look back for wisdom, and to peer ahead at the endless possibilities still waiting to unfold.
This year, my birthday landed at just the right time: a long weekend, a little over a year after we celebrated our first anniversary of living in Leadville, CO. The timing gave me space to reflect on all the changes—a new home, new job, new friends, and a new fiancé—that have made this year so meaningful. It also gave me time to ask what’s working, and what I want to shift. One shift was clear: I’ve been craving more time outside, more movement. After volunteering at the Leadville Trail 100 this summer, I felt the spark to test my own limits. So I set a birthday goal: 34 miles for my 34th year—a symbolic “first,” and a little test run to see if I might have it in me to train for and ultimately race in the LT100 next August.
I woke at 4:30 a.m., fueling with a smoothie, coffee, and a banana with almond butter, before packing snacks and water in my running vest. Tulsi, my pup, joined me for the first loop around campus. The rain had just begun to fall, so I tucked her back inside, then pointed myself toward Turquoise Lake. Instead of my usual shortcut across BLM land, I stuck to the drier concrete path. By the time I reached the dirt trail along the lake, the morning light was breaking through rainclouds, scattering rainbows across the water. I moved at an easy, steady pace, stopping now and then to capture the glow.
By mile 9, at Mayqueen Campground, delight bubbled up in me. The campers were just waking, and I had already been moving for over two hours. Gratitude pulsed through my body. At mile 8, I had already surpassed my longest run in a year. But by mile 12, climbing steep terrain, my energy began to falter. One slow mile stretched over 30 minutes. Doubt slipped in. Then the trail tipped downhill, the Mount Massive Wilderness sign appeared, and suddenly the weight lifted—I felt the wind beneath my feet again.
The stretch from miles 12 to 17 was a seesaw of exhaustion and determination, but the thought of reuniting with Sergio, who I hadn’t seen in over a week, kept me pressing on. We’d planned to meet so he could run a few miles with me. When he didn’t appear as expected, worry crept in. Finally, after five long miles, he emerged from the woods smiling. Relief surged, quickly tangled with anger. “Where were you? I was so worried!” I snapped. He only grinned, “Happy birthday. I love you.” I wanted to melt, but frustration clung.
A few bites of food and sips of water later, I recognized the truth: I was underfueled, 21 miles in, and exhausted. I apologized. He understood, hugged me and we settled into a gentle 17-minute pace together. As we moved, I remembered the ring tucked in my pocket. I had been waiting for the right moment to propose back to him. An enormous heart-shaped rock propped against a tree caught my eye. It was now or never. “Hey, honey! Look at this rock!” I called. He turned, curious, and as he studied it, I dropped to one knee. When he spun back around, I looked up at him: “¿Quieres?”—the same word he had asked me nine months earlier.
Shock lit up his face. “Oh, wow! Will you put it on?” I slid the ring onto his swollen finger, where it caught the light between the pines. His joy was radiant. He had no idea I’d propose that day. We jogged on, giddy, until we reached Halfmoon Campground. His colleagues and students, cooking quesadillas, called out birthday wishes—then spotted the ring. “Did you just get engaged?!” they gasped. We laughed, explaining that we’d been engaged since January, but Sergio had wanted me to propose too. I had resisted going over the top, so the woods, where so many of our adventures unfold, felt like the perfect place.
After some convincing, his colleagues encouraged him to keep running with me a bit longer. Side by side, we covered six more miles, celebrating as I crossed the marathon mark—26.2 miles, farther than I had ever gone. The cold numbed my fingers, but Sergio helped rearrange my pack and urged me to snack. With food in my belly and my rain jacket zipped, I ran more comfortably to the end of the dirt road.
When the trail turned to pavement, we felt a pang of sadness. It was time for him to turn around and go back to his crew at Halfmoon Campground. Though we’d only be apart one more week, it felt longer. I felt so grateful for him and proud of him too—he’d supported me through miles of terrain and, in the process, ran his own half marathon.
The final seven miles alone were the hardest. Pavement replaced soft earth, cars replaced birdsong, and the sun bore down on my neck. After eight hours on my feet, I was ready to be done. At mile 32, I dropped my pack, ran a lighter loop, then returned to finish the last stretch. At 34.01 miles, I stepped through my front door and snuggled into Tulsi’s embrace.
After a few minutes of staring off into space and sinking into the couch, a shower revived me. I returned birthday calls with family and took off for dinner at my friend Lauren’s. When I walked into her house she was by the stove in her kitchen, smiling broadly with a ladle in hand, and I felt at peace. No pressure to be anything but myself. That felt like the real gift of this birthday: being welcomed just as I am.
The next day was pure recovery. I slept late, then joined Anderson and Joaquin for a leisurely paddle on Twin Lakes, their first time on the water. We spent the afternoon drifting under a perfect sky, laughing until the chill of the wind chased us back to shore. That evening, we gathered at Ale Yak, a relatively new spot with fire pits, food trucks, and views of the sunset over Turquoise Lake. I toasted with cider, savored a rice bowl, and lingered with friends until closing, reluctant to let the night end.
Driving home, I felt a quiet fullness. People who were strangers just a year ago are now an integral part of my life, and Leadville itself has come to feel like an embrace.
This past year- moving across the country and starting over- has reminded me that growth is infinite when we allow it. Without constriction, the heart knows no limit.
So my hope for 34 is: love where you are, love who you are, and step forward, one stride at a time, toward your brightest dreams.
Sunday, August 17th
My first day of training is in the books! It’s only within the past week that I’ve come to view this journey—training for races that will culminate in the Leadville 100—as my own personal pilgrimage. And what better place to start than the mountains that inspired it? Tulsi, my malamoodle pup, and I started our adventure at Mayflower Gulch, where we enjoyed a comfortable jog. After our trail loop, I headed home and laced up again for another three miles without her 80 pounds beside or behind me, just to get my legs reacquainted with the demands of running.
This journey is about more than just logging miles; it’s about pushing my own perceived limits, both mentally and physically. As a former cross-country runner, I’m now applying my knowledge of Ayurveda and yoga to find balance and to stay grounded throughout this process. Today was a small but significant step on a long path. With twelve months of training and cross training ahead of me, I’m excited to see where this journey takes me.
My favorite snacks (either before or after running) right now are go-go squeezes, chocolate almond milk, blue Gatorade, and chomp meat sticks.
Livin' La Vida Simple 