QC's 2025 Recap: The Year of Making My Own Luck

January 

January started off with a Hike Inn loop on New Year's Day with a few of my running buddies. The following weekend, we did a 27 mile loop on the BMT/AT as my last long trail run before Rocky Raccoon. The weather was perfect, but I was still battling some toe pain.

It snowed the following weekend so I was trapped inside for my 20 miler on the treadmill. Ugh. 

The snow cleared enough on the roads the following weekend, but it was still on the trails and we got to slipslide through the woods.

I finally turned the corner on my fitness and toe pain at the end of the month and flew out to Texas with Casey as my crew chief, whose sole job was to tell me, “you look pretty and you're running fast” every loop (which she did without even rolling her eyes because she's amazing like that).

February 

Rocky Raccoon wasn't as fast as 2023's version, but it was way more fun because I ended up running 70 miles with Johana. We finished hand in hand in 22 hours and I couldn't have asked for a more perfect return to this event. 

I spent the following weeks hiking and walking and getting lots of rest. 

Adam finally got his prescribed power chair delivered which became life-changing to maneuver around the bottom floor of our house. We're currently working on getting a vehicle that will accommodate it and that will be even better as it will allow him to return to doing more social things in the world.

March

I decided at the very last minute to sign up for the Atlanta Marathon for fun. Partially to keep my streak of a marathon or ultra distances run each month alive, but also because it had been a few years since I'd run it. It was a cold day and I forgot how hilly it was, but still had a blast doing the thing I love. 

Adam and I celebrated our 17th year in our house with our traditional Mellow Mushroom dinner on our wedding china.

Cassy and I did a monster run on the AT at the end of the month and talked nonstop for our entire drive and run.

Gael, Sarah, and I hung out for our annual Aries brunch while fervently avoiding talks of the age of our friendship.

April

Sara came to town and Adam and I joined her for a late dinner one evening. It's always fun to talk baseball with her. 

I celebrated my 43rd birthday with Adam's cousin and her family who were in town doing college visits from Los Angeles (though failed to take a photo). I tried to put in a good word for my own experience at Emory in hopes we'd get to see the family a bit more. 

Then I was off to Boston to run my 11th marathon there. I went solo this year which was super weird, but also nice to just worry about myself and hole up in my hotel room, gorging on carbs. I met up with a few friends, made a few new ones, and managed to have another magical race. 

At the end of the month, since Cassy was out of town for work, Jared and I went to go see Rufus together on his birthday. It was an amazing show!

May

At the beginning of the month, I headed to Key West for a reward trip for work. The highlight was a deep sea fishing day in which we caught tons of snapper, grouper, mahi-mahi, tuna, and even a couple of sharks! I tried all the key lime pies, went for a few sunrise runs, and visited a few of the touristy spots like the Hemingway house. 

My sister celebrated her 40th birthday and the whole family went out for fancy steak dinner.

At the end of the month, Roger came to town to run part of SCAR with me in NC/TN while Casey provided the most amazing crewing. It was a bucket list run for me and though it was incredibly hard, it was also really rewarding to see this one through fruition finally. Also, I adore any time I get to spend in the Smokies. 

June

I got right back to it after SCAR with just a few days off, but really just by way of a lot of very long and verty runs. I hit Yonah, a Brasstown triple, a midday AT run from Neel's Gap, and a Bloody Coosa. All of this was also to test carrying my enormous pack that was required for Eiger and moving over mountains for a long period of time. 

Other highlights included beginning a mentor program at work, going to a Zach Top/Dierks Bentley concert, and picking thousands of blueberries from my yard.

July

Alfonso and I pushed for Ainsley's Angels for the local 4th of July 5k. Adam and I hosted our annual event that evening and my sister's family made it there despite having flown from the UK that morning. 

And then in mid-July, it was time for the big event! Megan H. and Adam's brother and dad came to help with Adam and the puppies while I went gallivanting around Europe for 2 weeks. Megan L. and I met up with Roger in Switzerland to run Eiger 250. Unfortunately, Roger had to drop about 50 miles into the course, but Megan and I were able to successfully finish the ~177 miles in 86 hours. It was the hardest physical thing I've ever done and the most beautiful. I'm not sure if it's uncouth to say you're proud of yourself, but I sure was. 

The 3 of us went on a massive road trip after the race, traveling through Luxembourg, Belgium, and France. We wandered cobblestone streets in Luxembourg city, ate mussels in Brussels, found ourselves in a music festival in Ghent, put our feet in the Atlantic in Dunkirk, toasted champagne atop the Eiffel Tower, ate a croissant the size of my head, and thoroughly exhausted our livers. 

August

Back home and still exhausted, I clawed my way back to some semblance of running. Because, well, I was headed back to Europe the following month to run the Berlin Marathon! 

We had our builder-grade shower door replaced so it was easier for Adam to get in and out of and replaced a few toilets for taller versions for the same reason. We also had a few trees in our yard professionally trimmed and a couple of evergreens removed. 

Our oldest Boston Terrier, Riley, developed a fast-growing tumor on the side of her face and I spent every other week taking her to the vet, keeping her as comfortable as we could. 

September 

Unfortunately, we had to say goodbye to our sweetest girl early in the month. I've owned dogs most of my life and it never gets easier. We hope she's resting easy on a fuzzy pillow on the other side of the rainbow bridge.

I crashed Jared and Cassy's anniversary by going to Nine Inch Nails with them. We were in the first row of seats behind the pit - 15 year old me would be stoked to know this would happen in our lifetime.

At mid-month, I flew back over the pond to Berlin for a very whirlwind marathon major trip. I spent an afternoon in Poland on Friday, ran the 5k on Saturday, and squeaked out a BQ at the (very hot) marathon on Sunday. I soaked in a little history and culture, ate in funky little cafes, and became an expert train rider. 

October

I volunteered at the Bull Mountain Epic and spent a few hours in the woods slinging Coke and PBJs at runners. It's been harder for me to volunteer more recently, but this one's timing worked out! Jared and I ran Woody to Blood Mountain, one of my favorite routes on a spectacular fall day. 

Early in the month, my sister, her husband, Adam, and I went out for Thai food and saw Latrez Anderson, a comedian. 

Adam and I went to Frankie's, a nearby steakhouse for our 17th anniversary and tested out a new portable power chair. Nothing like trying to figure out how to maneuver and lift a power chair in a dress and heels.

At the end of the month, I ran the Spinx Marathon in Greenville for fun. I dressed like Dorothy from the Wizard of Oz and got lots of cheers along the way. My friend Matt PR'd and came in 1st place masters!

For Halloween, I continued my full-size candy bar tradition. We had 146 trick-or-treaters this year!

November 

With Adam's new chair, we went out and enjoyed some fall colors along the Greenway one really nice afternoon and had beers at Cherry Street.

Alfonso and I ran at Tallulah Gorge and raced the Dashing with the Glow 5k for Ainsley's Angels at Lake Lanier. It was a very fun race where lots of people (including us) wore festive holiday gear and we all got a first look at the lights on the lake. 

Sarah, Gael, and I got together for another Aries brunch. I guess this one was for our half-birthdays. We finally got to see the northern lights which was really incredible to see with the naked eye. 

Alfonso and I ran the worst trail of our lives in Western North Carolina and spent the better part of 27 miles having our legs shredded by overgrowth. 

At the end of the month, Roger came to town for Thanksgiving. I ran the Gobble Wobble 5k on Thanksgiving morning and then hosted a very small dinner for Roger, Adam, my dad, and stepmom. Even though I love to cook, all I had to make was the mashed potatoes and whipped cream. Work was particularly busy the month of November for me so I was grateful for a very easy to-do list that week!

Roger and I ran a few times together over the next week and hung out until it was time to go to Rehoboth.

December 

Roger and I flew up together and landed in a snowy Baltimore. Thankfully, it wasn't sticking because this southerner is not cut out for driving in that. We met up with Angie and made our way to the Rehoboth. There was Dogfish Head, family dinner, running, the beer tent, and the Purple Parrot. But minimal shenanigans since we were “home” by 10pm Saturday.

I dropped Roger and Angie off at BWI and then made my way to New Jersey for a few days there and New York for work. I felt like I was running on fumes when I finally made it home that week. 

But no rest for the weary because that Saturday I ran a 5k with my 10 year old nephew and a 1k with my 7 year old niece. My nephew plays travel soccer and this might be the last year I can run with him!

We hosted a family Christmas dinner at our house that Sunday and would later find out it was a little bittersweet because my brother and his wife are moving to Maryland early next year. I've always said my family keeps me in Atlanta so it'll be weird to not live close. There were a few years in our teens/20s that we were at college and living in different cities, but the siblings have all been in Atlanta since 2007. 

We had our traditional Christmas Eve at Waffle House with dear friends and went to my sister's house for Christmas Day.

I spent the last few days of the year either working or sumitting Georgia mountains, reflecting fondly on another jam-packed adventure around the sun.

 

Winter 2025

Belated musings

___________

I'm standing braless in the Japanese whiskey aisle. I've set down my beer choices on the floor while I skim labels and attempt to discern the differences.

I'm braless because I shed my wet sports bra and t-shirt in the parking lot of the park after a very unexpectedly good tempo run. Part of me thinks I'll never quite get back to 2017 or 2023 fitness, but I know it was the only reward of the scars. There's slivers of me in there somewhere, but I haven't felt the same sadness and rage and disappointment and anger. Which is obviously not sustainable or even desirable. But my petulance for running effortlessly fast remains.

I've pulled out my phone to Google the brand names of whiskies I'm staring at when a very tall Scottish man appears in the aisle with me. He's wearing a kilt and has red hair and a red beard. He's probably younger than me, but not by too much. His accent is Americanized, but his lilt gives away his ancestry immediately. 

He asks me if I need any help and I shoo him away at first, embarrassed I know nothing about the bottles in front of me. Beer? Wine? 90s alternative? Running? Cereal? These are all things I'm a connoisseur of, but not Japanese whiskey. 

But he lingers a second too long and I confess that I do need his help. He launches immediately into whiskey vernacular, explaining peats and rice and casks at full throttle. I nod here and there, wondering if this is how I sound when someone asks me about running. His passion is infectious and when he asks me if I'd like a sample at 11am, I'm obviously game.

I turn the labels of a few of the bottles while he scampers off for my sample. This is like choosing a book based on the cover, the best-looking one doesn't always equate to greatness. 

He comes back with a bottle of whiskey and a tiny cup, the same ones used in church communions. I sip it slowly, letting it burn a bit on my chapped lips and trying to not let on about the lush that I am. The one that desperately just wants to shoot it and have it burn my throat and belly quickly. But this is good whiskey so it doesn't really do this very much to my lips and I decide maybe I actually like it. 

The one I'm trying is $70 a bottle, but he says if the gift I'm buying is for someone I really like, I should spring for the $100 one. I tell a white lie that I hate the person I'm buying it for, but that they may not show up for Christmas so it's best if I get something I'd drink too. It's true that they may not show up for Christmas, but I don't actually hate them. 

I grab the bottle off the shelf and he offers to take my cup. There's still a swallow of whiskey in it and I tilt my head back to finish it. I beeline for the checkout, watching the store swell with people making their last-minute holiday purchases just like me. 

____________

I never was much of a white wine drinker, but now this seems like the new regular. Like Sunday evenings spent cooking after a day on the trails. I get to listen to music and putz in the kitchen without the interruption of the TV. Many days, I like this because it's not the norm and I can be selfish in this space. But some days, it makes me feel a sense of grief for this life that has changed in a timeline that seems too short. I step outside with my wine glass to enjoy the last hours of the summer evening. But it's warm and the dogs aren't settled so I go back inside to my place on the sofa. It used to be Adam's, but now it's mine. There's grief again. 

I walked from the creek back to the car with my shoes in hand, stepping carefully through the pine needles. They were numb from the cold creek and beat up from decades of running. No one was this deep in the woods this early on a Sunday morning. I took my time getting dressed in dry clothes and savoring cold pieces of watermelon. 

There's a little bit of a knee twinge, some foot aches, and a tweaked shoulder, but I feel good otherwise. It's hard to gauge my fitness right now. Miles are so slow and it's so hot. This incredibly heavy pack feels more comfortable than ever, but I still long for the day to just wear my old vest with a few snacks.

___________

The mid-morning light was far too cheery for everything I was feeling. The weight of it all came crashing down, smothering me from every which way. Traveling in the opposite direction feeling like I'd been pummeled, both inside and out. I turned to those familiar songs about whiskey and heartbreak, letting them put the nail on the coffin of misery loves company. 

The road snaked down the river, the canyon walls jutting high above the concrete. Trees along the top had started to change color and I almost pulled over a few times to take pictures. 

But I was so sad and so angry.

Everything hurt. From the tips of my battered toes to the muscles on my shoulders, I was sore. My face felt like it was stuffed full of snot and my throat burned. My lips were chapped and my thighs were sunburnt.

But worst of all, my spirit felt destroyed. Not necessarily because I didn't finish, but because my body felt like it just slowly gave out. And I couldn't put two and two together at the time, but I had never felt so awful for so long. I was so, so mad. 

I blamed a lot of my physical pain on dehydration and the race itself, not realizing how terribly sick I was. Drinking a lot of coffee and water the following morning, I realized some hour down the road that I desperately had to pee.

But there were no towns along this river canyon road and certainly no rest areas. I drove and drove, contemplating where I could stop until I thought I would burst. There was a small embankment that I could find a touch of privacy along this wide open road and I took far too long hobbling down in broad daylight, my quads and feet screaming with each step. 

And then among the sadness and anger I'm peeing against the side of the road in mid-morning light.

I had just spent 24 hours in the outdoors, peeing behind boulders and trees, but in the light of civilization, this felt weird. And added to this atrocity of a Monday in which I was straddling a wild line of extreme gratitude and extreme darkness. Gratitude for a weekend away in a beautiful place with my body traveling 70 miles on foot with a wonderful friend. And darkness for a completely wrecked body and a mind that was holding on by a mere thread. 

It hovered over me like I had been haunted for weeks. The sickness enveloped me for longer than I'd experienced in my adult life. I thought I'd never see the edges of the light again. 

But just over a month removed, I finally broke free of the spell and started to feel semblance of hope again. 

Rehoboth Beach Runparty #12: Finding the Magic Again

It's been quite some time since I've gone into a race without being excited. Especially a marathon. I typically love marathons. But I haven't been feeling very “fresh” lately running-wise. 

I wanted to take advantage of the pace groups at Rehoboth, but since they didn't have anything between 3:35-3:50, I was leaning more towards the 3:50 in the weeks leading up. It was slower than what I thought I was capable of right now, but 3:35 felt like a tad too much. 

With me being in a funky headspace about it and waking up with a training readiness of 4 (out of 100 😬), I was all in on the 3:50 when I made my way to the start. There was a little sadness that I wasn't going for a BQ for the first time in forever here, but I locked one in at a very hot Berlin in September so I gave myself some grace. 

I knew I'd made a good choice after the first couple of miles. I was working more than I care to admit to get warmed up and felt like I was going to be in for a long day. 

My stomach was rumbling and I hoped that after I locked into what I was doing that everything would feel less icky. I carried a handheld for the first time ever at this race and slowly sipped some Skratch.

Thankfully, after about 30 minutes things got a little better. I saw the faster half racers going past in the opposite direction and spotted Roger, but he was very much in the zone and didn't see me. 

My headband flew off by accident near the split and by the time I'd realized it happened, I didn't want to go back and get it. I felt bad that I left it, but at least it was next to a water stop. 

Once we got on the Gordon Pond trail, I accidentally got ahead of the pacer for a while. It was okay since he was still within earshot and I knew that it was good to give a small buffer so I could slow down a bit at some point to let the group catch back up. 

Near the boardwalk I decided to let them get caught back up so I could settle into the pack. It was still a big group then so I went to the back to not have to jostle for position. I love running in a pack in a marathon, but it can feel chaotic. I knew that the pack would be very different by mile 20 so it was time to just stay relaxed.

It took me until about mile 10 to truly get into a groove. Then I finally felt more like myself and my body calmed down a bit. It may have been all of the Dogfish Head beer from Friday leaving my body finally. 

I started to engage a bit more with the group, talking a bit to the runners around me and turning my headphones down to hear conversations. Once we got to the turnaround by the ferry, there was something psychologically good about heading back. 

I started looking at the other pace groups going by, counting down the ones until I saw Elaine who gave me a high-five! Of course, this energized me even more for a few minutes. 

The trail on the way back to town always seems to take forever and this time was no different. It's miles ~15-18 which is generally the time people start crashing in marathons. I felt good, but it still seemed to drag on. 

Back on the pavement, we were in single digits territory and I considered going ahead since I knew I could probably lop off some time. But then I second-guessed myself and the time didn't really mean anything at this point anyway. So I committed to staying with the pace group until the end. 

Passing by the finish line at mile 19 is always rough. So close, yet, so far. I scanned the crowds to see if anyone was still out running that I knew or had come to spectate, but had no success. After that though, I started talking even more to the pacer and baby new year so I was happily distracted. 

Our group stayed together as we entered the trail portion and even held pace for the pacer while he dug a rock out his shoe. I love flag alley and almost always get a little emotional near it because I'm both happy and sad that the marathon is almost over. This year, I kind of needed that swift kick of joy after not feeling that way about racing.

All of us in the pace group were riding high on life going into the final few miles. It's funny how the pacer’s job was to help people run a specific pace and how the reason I stayed in the group was a completely different one. 

As we made our way into the final stretch, he realized we might be pushing a little too fast so he told us he had to slow down in the finish chute. We were like, “okay, we'll slow down too!” So the 3 of us jogged it in to cross the finish line together. 

Thanks, Rehoboth. You're always reminding me the parts of running that I love about running that have nothing to do with the actual running. Which is really the magic of running.