Retirement // Sabbatical

It's not a goodbye, it's a see you later.... 

Seattle Jungle Cats ft Philip, L-Adam #teamteal, & Elizabeth
(not pictured: Farmer & Loowit, Kaytlyn & Ely)

Legends. 

To many of my closest friends, I've talked about my upcoming "retirement" from running as I begin medical school at Pacific Northwest University in August (see my last post). I had planned to go out with a bang; to finally finish a 100 miler and cross it off my bucket list. I had wanted to start medical school with no regrets and to not wish for the shoulda coulda woulda's while studying hard. The truth is, I know I'm not a Megan Roche, Erin Clark or Michelle Meyer type- the kind that can somehow rock medical school/ residency at prestigious Universities while also maintaining regularly programmed, fast running and even racing (read: winning). The way I see it, is that I want every opportunity to be open to myself and to only have doors closed that are out of my control. Meaning, I want to do my absolute best and not have anything less than that deter some future residency or career. To me, that means running will be an afterthought and a way to relieve stress every now and then. I won't be able to train to do trail ultras justice. At least until maybe after residency...

It takes a village. Or the Queen to tell you what to do

When Mary & I tried to conquer the VT Long Trail

Running has given me more than I could've known to ask for, and I am eternally grateful. As a naive 14 year old, I believed every kid in high school had to join a sports team. I chose Cross Country as I didn't have the hand eye coordination for the other sports and there were no cuts. I remember believing I would actually die on that first 2 mile run at practice. However, I showed up the next day because I didn't know I could quit. It was that naivete that made me believe ultra running was the norm- after all, my coach Mary Churchill and all her friends did it. As a bright eyed 16 year old- a bit fitter with some more miles under my belt- I would beg Mary to let me join her on "Ninja Runs" at 5 am in the Marin Headlands. I would be awed into a silence (not typical) soaking up all the race stories Jorge Maravilla, Devon Yanko, Larissa Rivers, and other legends would tell about their recent PR at Lake Sonoma or woes of training for Western States. I took such joy in being surrounded by an incredible community and exploring beautiful, wild places on my own two feet, that I wanted more and more, so I ran farther and farther.

My certainly-not-SLO(w) gal pals

the SFRC regulars fangirling

Running has also given me challenges. I've had my fair share of injuries, often joking that you could create a Bingo game for all the fractures, tears, strains, and sprains I've had. I've DNFed races and finished when I probably shouldn't have. I've struggled with social media dictating what my running should be and endlessly compared myself to others on Strava, wondering why I couldn't run the same splits. I've puked my brains out in races and I've face planted into every surface imaginable. I've gotten lost, run out of food/water, and made so many mistakes, it's strange I haven't yet been inducted into the Rookie Hall of Fame. And yet, I keep coming back.

the OG CPDC squad

Sometimes, it's because I'm stubborn and I like to achieve my goals, but mostly it's because of what running has provided: Community, lifelong friendships, SO many laughs, appreciation for nature, fear of nature, the chance to travel, and more. Most importantly, running has given me an identity. I first identified myself by my running, but though the ups and downs, I've grown in myself and in my confidence to let running be a part of my identity. Running has put into practice the traits about myself that I hold most valuable: integrity, respect for others & the world, determination & hard work, hopefulness, easy going & adaptability.

Meghan & Stephanie showing me the WS100 ropes

chasing Rory somehow always gives me altitude sickness

My mentors in the sport have shown me not how or what to run, but why I should run. Most importantly, they have taken running beyond the sport and shown me how it can improve lives and yet also be separate, that running isn't everything, but core principles and values add to life. I have told my coach of 5 years- Meghan Arbogast Laws- she is more my life coach than a running coach. We've been through a LOT together and I've had enough lessons in life to open a school of my own. I've also had support from everyone in my life- my family, friends, some sponsors, and social media friends- and those are who comes to mind when the going gets tough, as they say.

typical Ultra finish state of affairs

Don't get me wrong, the high that finishing the "hardest thing I've ever done" feeling after each race has been incredible. I think it may actually be a drug. It's almost unimaginable that I've taken my body almost 75 miles across an island within 24 hours or run across the Grand freaking Canyon & back. I've won some races, set records when I was a youngster (heyyooo only person in my age category back in the day), qualified for Boston, set PRs, and churned up & down big mountains. Heck, I even got paid to run back & forth with Mike Foote in a puddle. Those accomplishments will always been near & dear in my heart.

looney tunes at who-knows-what hour pacing Jon Bretan at TRT100

I could go on forever in my little ode to running. I had originally planned to write this after finishing Cascade Crest 100 as that would mark my "retirement". However, CC is no longer happening. Per previous posts, I just haven't been able to run much lately (read: Life happens and it's OK) and have lost my base. More than that, I'm just not motivated to train for it; I'd rather get fitness so I can keep up with friends on epic summer routes and climb Mt Rainier with Philip. Those are lame excuses and 100 miles is really freaking far for that kind of BS. I've given up my spot and I'm actually relieved, not full of regret. You could probably say I'm a bit burnt out, and that's probably a likely diagnosis. So, I'm going to prescribe myself a much needed break.

Catch ya on the flip side. Xo, Kelsie