It didn't take long before we were hiding in the bushes. Heavy machinery and watchful eyes lumbered down the rocky road below us. I suppose that's what we deserve for attempting to ride a closed road. But to our credit, we were on bikes and obviously, traffic rules don't apply. My brother, laying horizontal behind a log on an exposed hillside, couldn’t stop smiling. He was able to briefly escape the turmoil of medical school at the University of Washington to join me in Idaho for an annual get-together. This year’s objective was to ski the Devil’s Bedstead, a prominent peak in the Pioneer mountains of Central Idaho. 

Streaking. That word has a very different meaning to me these days compared to my college days rummaging around the UNC Charlotte campus. My present day interpretation of streaking is to run at least one mile every single day. This time, fortunately, with clothes on. I’ve been streaking two full years without a single day off. I’ve learned a lot about running, grit, will, and pure love for a hobby turned necessity. 

Guest Contributor: Lisa Landrum
Read Time: 5 mins

For me, there’s nothing that makes me feel freer than trail running. It’s an opportunity to, literally, get grounded and focus on one thing … my run. As chaotic as the world may become, each run is my opportunity to control things. Trail or road, fast or slow, hours or minutes. I make the choices. I control the decisions. I like that.

Guest Contributor: Kristi Bratton
Read Time: 5mins

When planning a trip to Alaska last year, my crazy and “loving” husband mentioned two things.  First, he argued that maybe he should go solo. Nope! I shot that down immediately. His next comment was something along the lines of “You know this trip isn’t just going to be hanging out and relaxing, right?”. It was time to buckle up for a one-of-a-kind experience.