The New Jam

It's pretty wild what the world can throw at you when you keep your mind open and live an adventurous life.  Back in June, I decided to do something that I never thought I would do.  I signed up for a spin class.  It was something new, and I didn't know what to expect or how it would go.  It's good to try new things, but there's always the risk of that new thing not clicking.  At least not right away.  But spin class drew me in pretty quickly, and I've been finding myself at the studio more and more often these days.  

So, what exactly is spin class?  Before I signed up, I wasn't completely sure.  At a high level, it's essentially rhythmic indoor cycling.  The style varies across classes and studios, but the studio that I go to in Huntington Beach offers classes that adopt a club-like setting.  Classes are fifty minutes long and are taught in the dark with light shows.  EDM and hip-hop tunes are cranked at a high volume, and participants engage in choreography that follows the beat of the music, while simultaneously peddling a stationary bike.  The instructor demos each move before the class joins in, and spinners are free to do their own version of the choreography based on their preference.  The studio is called bike2thebeat, which sums it up pretty brilliantly.

                                               Spinny Friends crew

Throughout my many months of frequenting Philz Coffee in Dana Point, I've gotten to know the baristas and staff pretty well.  A little over a year ago, I met Sean, one of the team leads.  We connected pretty quickly over shared interests.  Sean enjoys strength training, swimming, and occasional running, along with cycling and spin.  Not only does he love spin, but he loves teaching it and seeing other people kick ass at it.  As I sipped a piping hot Campfire blend at Philz one morning, Sean introduced me to bike2thebeat and told me what spin class was all about.  I decided to look into it further for myself and sign up for a class.  I figured I didn't have a whole lot to lose, especially since the first class was free.  I ended up really enjoying it.  I started off going once a month after that first class, but now I find myself going just about every other weekend and sometimes taking two classes back-to-back.  

It's safe to say that spin has become my new jam over the last few months.  There are several things I like about it.  First off, it's great cross training for running.  It's low impact and works different muscles, which improves strength and reduces the risk of injury.  Spin focuses heavily on cardiovascular activity, and the choreography provides a great opportunity to work out the upper body.  I also find it fun because it presents a whole new vibe for physical exercise.  I've had my fair share of visits to clubs and bars when I was younger, and I've always liked the idea of moving to a beat.  I need a lot of practice as a dancer, but I enjoy doing it.  Dancing is a great way to be fit, and doing spin class reminds me of dancing in a club.  Moving to the beat of EDM and hip-hop music on a bike in a dark studio with a light show releases a different kind of energy than running outside while listening to punk rock.  It's a different scene than the trail running scene.  It exercises a different side of my brain and creates a whole other mood.  I like where it takes me psychologically. 

                                      We all need this reminder sometimes

Another really cool thing about spin is the community and the people.  The studio itself provides a really chill and welcoming atmosphere.  Everyone is celebrated at bike2thebeat.  They celebrate people's milestone rides and birthdays.  They also make everyone, especially new people, feel welcome.  I always go on Sunday mornings to take Sean's class at 8:00 AM, and I occasionally do a "double" where I'll take another class right after Sean's, led by Ann, another instructor.  Most of the people who show up to those two classes are regulars at the studio and there's a strong sense of community.  I've met some super rad people at these classes.  It's great to hear people's stories and how they got into spin.  A lot of people have stories about losing weight, improving their physical condition, becoming more athletic, and finding their people and communities through spin.  I, for one, and damn glad to see it. 

                                                            The studio

All this being said, I would highly recommend checking out spin class to anyone who is physically active and enjoys looking for new ways to cross train and meet people.  Even if a night club setting isn't exactly what you're looking for, another spin studio should be able to provide the setting that you're into.  If you check out spin class, you're almost guaranteed to find positivity, motivation, and hear some inspiring stories, especially if you go somewhere like bike2thebeat.  I never thought I'd get into spin class because it's such a different scene, but I'm glad I did.  I think I'm almost to the point where I'll actually buy my own spin shoes instead of renting from the studio!

November Awareness

November is a pretty cool month.  Halloween kicks off the holiday season on the last day of October, which means when November comes around, people are starting to get into the holiday spirit.  I'm a big fan of the holiday season, so I think of it as a fun time of year.  But for me personally, November is significant in a couple of other ways.

This past November marked the twentieth anniversary of my mother's death.  The day we lost her, November 10th, 2005, was one of the hardest days of my life.  I felt like my family had been destroyed and I wasn't sure if I would ever be okay again.  It was a lot for my teenage brain to process.  Now, twenty years later, I can sincerely say that I am okay and at peace.  That doesn't mean I've forgotten about all the pain I've felt.  I still cry about it once in a while.  I miss my mom dearly, and I think of her all the time.  I'm at peace because I've come to terms with the situation and I've managed to find a way to cope with it.  Every year when November 10th comes, it's hard to not think about the significance of what happened on that day in 2005.  My thoughts and feelings about the anniversary of my mom's death have varied over the years, but in recent years, I've chosen to reflect on how far I've come.  It's been one hell of a journey over the last twenty years.  

Here's an idea of what the state of my life was like on the day my mom died:  I was nineteen years old, living in an apartment with my two friends.  I had just kicked off my sophomore year at Western Michigan University.  Sounds pretty cool, right?  At the time, I thought it was, but looking back, I can say that it wasn't as cool as it could have or should have been.  I was unfulfilled.  I didn't have any health issues, but I wasn't in good physical shape.  I had some extra body fat.  I was drinking quite a bit, especially on weekends.  Most days, my diet only consisted of two trips to the McDonald's down the street: one in the afternoon for lunch, and another late at night for dinner.  Besides alcohol, I only drank soda and coffee.  I didn't even drink water to try to prevent hangovers.  I rarely exercised.  The only running I did was running away from the cops when they broke up the house parties that I frequented.  In other words, I was living the typical debauchery filled college kid lifestyle.       

The day my mom died was the beginning of a long healing  journey.  My brain didn't know how to work through such a life-altering situation, so I dealt with it the best way I knew how.  At first, I tried to heal by simply downplaying the situation.  "It happened.  Why should I be upset about it?" I thought.  I tried to carry on as nonchalantly as possible, but my friends and family were freaked out by how normal I was acting.  They knew something wasn't right.  As time went on and reality sank in more, I went through other grieving phases.  After the "trying to play it cool" phase came the "haze" phase.  My whole reality seemed as if it were a dream, and it was like I was here but not here.  It was weird.  I eventually began to think more clearly and observe the world from a different perspective than I had for the past nineteen years.  I started being nicer to people and not taking things for granted.  When I went to a party or the bar, I prioritized social interaction over drinking to get drunk.  I started taking better care of myself physically and psychologically.  I had lukewarm feelings towards therapy, but I'm glad I decided to go as an adult.  I learned a hell of a lot in five years of weekly therapy sessions.  

My journey took me from Michigan to Chicago, and eventually to California.  I faced several obstacles along the way, and had many ups and downs.  The ups were lots of fun and the downs were good learning opportunities.  It's wild to think how different my life is today compared to twenty years ago.  I knew there was no way I could keep up that lifestyle forever, but I don't have any regrets about my life before my mom's passing.  There's a time and a place for every phase of life.  My mom's death was one of the biggest tragedies of my life, but it made me who I am today.  I'm grateful for that.

Other reason why November has been important to me in recent years is because November is Alzheimer's awareness month.  My father has been struggling with this awful disease for the last few years.  At first, we thought it was just memory loss from old age.  But as time went on, and his dementia became more prominent, we knew it was something more serious.  It took me some time to get my head around what my dad was dealing with.  Thanks to therapy and research, I've been able to accept the reality of what's going on.  Alzheimer's sucks.  There's no other way to put it.  There's no cure for it, and the cause is largely unknown.  Depression, lack of physical activity, and smoking have all been linked to Alzheimer's disease, but there's still lots of research to be done on what causes it and how it can be cured.  The symptoms can be treated, but sadly, treatments usually don't have a major impact.  The last time I saw my dad in person, we kept it light and casual.  Everything was pretty matter of fact.  There were no deep conversations, no catching up, no conversations about past times.  We sat together, watched movies, had some laughs, and made some small talk.  That was about the extent of our interaction.

What happens with Alzheimer's is a disproportionate amount of microproteins are deposited into the prefrontal cortex of the brain.  Eventually, the accumulation causes disruptions in normal brain cell activity and causes motor neurons to malfunction.  This results in memory loss, the diminished ability to speak, eat, move, and eventually, the inability to breathe.  So, it's not that my dad didn't want to have conversations with me.  He just couldn't.  It's hard because we've created a lot of great memories together over the years, but I know those memories live within my dad's mind somewhere.  Educating myself on Alzheimer's and psychologically processing what's happening has helped me accept my dad's situation.  Unfortunately, it's not going to get better, but the more I understand, the more at peace I am with what's going on.  It's gotten to the point now where just being in my dad's presence is enough for he and I to spend time together.  I'll aways be grateful to him for all that he's done for me.

November is about fun and holiday vibes, but for me, it's also been about acceptance, awareness, and reflection.  Accepting the fact that my mom is gone and my dad has Alzheimer's disease.  Being aware of what Alzheimer's is and knowing how it works.  And, reflecting on how far I've come since my mom's death twenty years ago.  Overall, it's a very positive time of year.  And of course, it's also a great time to be thankful for all that I have, especially on turkey day.      

Gratitude

Yes, this post is about gratitude.  And I'm not talking about the delicious blend at Philz Coffee that comes out every year during the holiday season, although, I'm really looking forward to it.  "Gratitude" is a word that has been on my mind a lot lately.  About a month or so ago, the CEO of my new company held a company wide town hall meeting.  As he spoke to us over Zoom through his laptop in a New York City hotel room, he briefed us on the current events and all the exciting things happening within the organization.  Then he concluded with this:  "Remember Team, it's important to be thankful for what you have, and remember about how far you've come".  I enjoyed hearing all the exciting news about my company, but those closing remarks are what I remember the most about that town hall meeting.

In mid-September, Samantha, Aidan, and I went on a cruise with my in laws.  It was a week-long adventure that departed from the port in Seattle, made three stops in Alaska, and one stop in British Columbia before returning to Seattle.  Although I take a couple of days off work here and there for long weekend trips, I hadn't had a longer vacation with a week off work for quite some time.  I can't remember the last time I had a week where I could just relax and I didn't have to be preoccupied with work.  It turned out having a week-long vacation gave me a lot of time and opportunities to express gratitude.  For me, those moments tend to come naturally when my mind is calm and I'm in a chill setting.  It's been nearly twenty years since my mother's death.  For those who don't know the story, she struggled with alcoholism for quite some time and died during my teenage years.  It was the hardest thing I've ever dealt with.  It's been a roller coaster of experiences since then, but the biggest takeaway I had was this:  don't take shit for granted, and be grateful for what you have.  My life is far from perfect, but I have so much to be grateful for.  Taking the time during our vacation to remind myself of everything good I have in my life was just what I needed in my otherwise fast paced reality. 

One of those moments was when we were in Seattle.  We were staying in a hotel in the downtown area the night before we were supposed to board the cruise ship and head for Alaska.  I woke up early and walked to a local coffee shop down the street.  It was a small joint with only a couple of tables inside.  The barista wore thick glasses and gave off a friendly, but also a kind of reserved vibe.  Grunge music played on the coffee shop stereo, and the coffee was piping hot and delicious.  Outside, the temperature was chilly and the sky was grey and overcast.  In other words, the whole experience felt very "Seattle" to me.  As I sipped my coffee, I took a twenty-minute or so walk through the surrounding neighborhood.  It was one of those moments where everything just seemed super chill, and I naturally thought about all the things that I was grateful for.

The trip was a success.  It was my first time going on a cruise, and our first time on a proper vacation with Aidan.  Of course that made it different from when we traveled without a kid, but we just rolled with it and had a good time.  We had stops in Skagway, Ketchikan, and Victoria.  Unfortunately, we had to bypass our scheduled stop in Juneau due to there being a dangerous storm in the area.  I enjoyed our on-shore adventures, but being on the cruise ship and just hanging out was very rejuvenating for me.  I loved going up on the top deck of the ship, sipping some hot coffee, and just looking out over the ocean.  The surrounding scenery varied depending on where we were.  Some of the time, all I could see was ocean in every direction as far out as the horizon would go.  Other times, some distant mountains and land were visible.  There was a mini-golf course on the top deck of the ship, which Aidan and I visited every day.  Having that time to not have to think about anything and just play mini-golf with Aidan or sip coffee and look out over the ocean was another opportunity to reflect on how far I've come.  Sometimes the simplest things in life bring the most gratitude.        

Samantha and I love Aidan to pieces, but when we have quiet time when he's either asleep or not with us, it gives us time to just chill and think about what we have to be grateful for.  One evening, when we were docked in Ketchikan, my in-laws were kind enough to watch Aidan for a few hours while Samantha and I went on-shore and into town for dinner.  We chatted with some locals and found a great restaurant with super cool servers, and delicious Alaskan crab.  It was the best crab I had ever tasted.  Another stretch of time when things were so nice and chill that we could just reflect on life.  We were grateful for the experience.  

Since returning from our trip, I've made a genuine effort to create more time to express gratitude and reflect on my life journey.  It doesn't necessarily have to be when I'm on vacation.  I have plenty of time during the day when I'm alone.  In the shower, driving to and from work, my morning run, etc.  Expressing gratitude while I'm in the shower has been my thing lately.  It really just makes the rest of my day better all around.  I'm a morning person, and I like to use my mornings to have quiet time and go for a nice run.  Expressing gratitude while in the shower has been a nice addition to my morning routine.  Life is cool and exciting, but let's face it, today's world is busy and full of noise.  It's very easy to get overstimulated.  Stepping back, expressing gratitude, being thankful for all we've been through and how far we've come is exactly what I think the world needs.  It's certainly been beneficial to me.  If we stop and think, there really are a lot of good things in the world.  Sometimes we just need to slow things down in order to find them. 

When Life Comes At You Fast, Run An Ultra

Change is unavoidable in life.  It can be a great thing because change often means moving forward.  It means it's time to move on to the next chapter in life and become a better version of ourselves.  But change can also be hard because it can be overwhelming.  When things change abruptly, it can take a big psychological toll on us.  Our brains use a lot of energy to adapt to a new routine which can leave us exhausted and drained.  Even for people who embrace change, it can be a lot to handle.  People cope with change in different ways, often by doing things that relax them.  This is why I believe it's important to have hobbies.  We all need something we enjoy doing as a way of hitting the psychological reset button and decluttering our minds.  With the changes that have been going on in my life lately, I thought what better way to clear my mind then to run a 50K ultramarathon?

Noble Canyon 50K start

In the early morning hours of September 6th, 2025, I found myself driving down the 5 freeway to the start line of the Noble Canyon 50K.  The race takes place in the town of Pine Valley, about an hour east of San Diego in the Cuyamaca Mountains.  I had just passed through San Clemente, and I was enjoying the tranquility of the quiet, dark freeway, with the Pacific Ocean to my right, and the foothills of the Santa Ana Mountains to my left.  I always enjoy the car rides to ultramarathon start lines.  The ride there is quiet and calm, while the ride home is often more rambunctious with music playing in the car and a lot of reflecting on how the day went.  I stopped at a remote 7-Eleven store for a second cup of coffee and a package of Pop Tarts for pre-race fuel before arriving at the start area shortly before sunrise.  It was a good day out on the course.  I reflected a lot on the last couple of months and unloaded a lot of thoughts on the trail that had been taking up too much space in my mind.  More on that in a little while, but I got what I wanted out of this race:  a finish, and a chance to declutter my mind.  But I got more than just that, because every ultramarathon has a story.  The course was beautiful and was mostly on single track trails.  This race had a little bit of everything in terms of scenery:  A little alpine forest, a little high desert, some small ponds, and lots of great views.  The weather in this area of California can get quite hot at this time of the year.  Fortunately, on this day, it was warm but not sweltering.  Most of the runners were from the San Diego area, but I met one guy who was from the Chicago suburbs.  He was in Southern California for a work conference, and we traded stories about living in Chicago.  Those were some pretty fun years of my life.  I found myself reflecting on some of those memories as I continued along after we parted ways at an aid station.  

Approaching the halfway point

At around mile twenty-one, I came up behind a runner who was standing still in the middle of the trail.  I asked him if everything was okay, and he just laughed and said "dude, this fucking snake will not move".  I looked, and sure enough, there was a small rattlesnake coiled up right in the middle of the trail about six feet in front of us.  Rattlesnakes normally avoid humans as much as possible, and with two-hundred runners out there, I was surprised he was just hanging out in an open area like that.  I grabbed a small rock off the trailside and tossed it in the snake's direction.  The goal was not to hit the snake, but to get his attention.  It usually works and they slither off the trail shortly afterwards.  But this guy wasn't moving.  "I tried everything man, he just doesn't want to move" the other guy said.  It seems silly for two grown men to be standing on a trail, too scared to run past a snake, but trust me, it's not a good ideal to screw around with rattlers.  They normally only bite if they feel like they need to, but we don't know what they're thinking.  Not only do their bites hurt like hell, but the venom that they release into your system can produce short term symptoms such as swelling, nausea, dizziness, and other fun symptoms.  And if bites are left untreated with antivenom, you could risk doing long term damage to your body.  I tried tossing one more small rock towards the snake, but he was unphased.  He just looked at us as if to say "is that all you got?".  Within a few minutes, another runner came up, and then a fourth one.  The fourth guy had an idea that none of us thought to try.  "Hey bro, let me borrow your trekking poles real fast" he said to the first guy.  He took the trekking poles, reached forward, and picked the snake up off the trail, like two giant chop sticks picking up a giant chow mein noodle.  The snake protested instantly.  He hissed and rattled as he was forced to the trailside.  Even though we knew it wouldn't do any good, we apologized to the snake.  "Sorry buddy" we all said.  "We know this is your home, but you gotta move".  After the runner released him into the brush with the trekking poles, he slithered away passive aggressively and rattled some more just to drive his point home.  He may have been pissed, but he didn't get hurt and neither did any of us.  

Big smiles while approaching the finish line

After that brief although entertaining episode, the course was mostly downhill to the finish line.  I was feeling pretty good up about around mile twenty-six.  At that point, the course because steeper and more technical.  Going downhill is usually a good thing during races, however when the downhill is steep with rocks and tree roots cluttering the trail, downhill isn't so good.  Every step required heightened concentration to avoid tripping and falling.  Just when it seemed like the trail would never end, it finally deposited me onto a remote paved road, which I followed for a mile-and-a-half to the finish line.  I rallied along, and crossed the finish in seven hours and forty-eight minutes.  It certainly wasn't one of my faster 50Ks, but every finish is worth celebrating.  I had some pretty painful muscle cramping afterwards, but after a post race beer and some stretching, my muscles slowly stopped tying themselves in knots.  No amount of cramping could erase the journey I went on that day.  I may have had cramped muscles and been covered in dry sweat, but my mind was at peace.  Thirty-one miles, and almost eight hours on the trail had left me feeling refreshed and rejuvenated.  That morning before the race, I had a lot on my mind.  I arrived home that day ready to spend the rest of the weekend with my family and tackle my second week of work at my new job.  As long as I can run, I will use it to mellow things out when my brain is ready to go kablooey.  When life comes at you fast, run an ultra.  Everything will make sense afterwards!  

Parenthood and Fitness

Scooter time on the Salt Creek Trail

My son, Aidan, just turned three years old a couple of weeks ago.  It's hard to believe, and time sure flies, but here we are.  The guy is living his best life.  Any stereotype you can think of pertaining to a three-year-old boy, Aidan probably lives up to it.  He's always jumping off of things, he freely expresses his feelings, he loves to smile and laugh, he seeks out adventure whenever he can, and he's constantly pushing the boundaries of what he's capable of.  Even though fatherhood has its challenges, I love this kid to pieces.  When he was born, I wasn't sure of what the future was going to look like.  Samantha and I were both navigating through parenthood for the first time, taking it one day at a time.  When you have a kid, being a mom or a dad becomes part of your identity.  As parents, our kids play such a large role in our lives, it's inevitable.  Being Mama or Daddy becomes part of who we are.  But my personal belief is  just because I became a dad, that doesn't necessarily mean that my whole identity has be Daddy.  I love Aidan more than anything, but I didn't want to throw my whole identity away.  I didn't want to have my life as a parent completely take over and obliterate every other aspect of my reality.  I wanted to prove to myself that I could still be a runner, an outdoor enthusiast, a husband, and a solid team member at work while still being a good dad.  Keeping up my physical and mental fitness was especially important to me.  It took some creative planning, but I still ran pretty regularly throughout Aidan's newborn and infant stages.  Although I haven't put in the same level of training as I did before Aidan was born, I've continued to run ultramarathons into fatherhood.  If anything, it gives me more to think about while I'm out on the course putting one foot in front of the other.  

Happy 3rd birthday, little dude!

During Samantha's pregnancy I was commuting to San Mateo a few days a week from where were living in Sunnyvale.  I would listen to an audio book for expectant fathers during the car ride to and from the office.  One of the things I remember the author mentioning is once babies begin walking, and eventually running, being a dad becomes more physically demanding.  The author suggested that expectant dads keep up their physical fitness so they're able to run after their kid once they're mobile.  He was right.  I almost feel like spending dad time with Aidan can be counted towards my daily workout routine.  The kid can really get around.  When we were living in Sunnyvale we had a long hallway in our apartment building.  Shortly after Aidan turned two years old, he and I would run together side by side down the hallway to the elevator and back.  We would do that several times, and it was often difficult to get him to come back into our apartment.  Since we moved down to Laguna Niguel, he's only become more active.  During the fall and winter months this past year, our routine was after Aidan was finished eating dinner we'd have chase time.  Aidan would come up to me and say "Aidan and Daddy chasing" with a big smile on his face.  "Yep, Aidan and Daddy chasing!" I would reply.  Then we would run after each other around our living room and dining room.  We would occasionally add a beach ball to the equation by passing it back and forth to each other.  We would tag each other and say "tag, you're it!".  But let's be realistic.  Daddy was always it.  When the spring and summer months arrived and the sun stayed out longer, we started running side by side outside our townhouse through our neighborhood.  Our new thing that we do nowadays is Aidan will ride his scooter around our neighborhood after dinner, and I'll run alongside him.  Sometimes he goes a mile to a mile-and-a-half.  It's a really fun way to spend time with him and it adds a few extra footsteps to my daily workout.  Our neighbors get a kick out of seeing him, so it's a cool way to meet new people as well.      

Memorial Day 2025, running his first kids race

Samantha has a similar routine with him.  She has a membership at the local YMCA in our neighborhood, and goes there to workout at the fitness center four to five times per week.  They have a daycare center for young kids within the facility so parents can drop off their kids, go use the amenities, and the kids can hangout for up to ninety minutes.  The cool part is the gym has windows that overlook the daycare center so parents can keep an eye on their kids.  Samantha's routine includes going to the YMCA in the morning and dropping Aidan off at the daycare center.  She works out in the fitness center, picks Aidan up, then they usually go across the street to Crown Valley Park, where Aidan will play on the playground or take a walk on the nature trails within the park.  And when I say "take a walk" what I actually mean is he'll run and Samantha will chase after him.  She has similar experiences within the YMCA facility.  Aidan is energetic and curious, which means he loves to take off running around the YMCA to wherever he damn well pleases.  He'll venture into the weight room and try to imitate adults who are lifting weights or doing crunches.  In fact, late last year, we bought him a pair of Styrofoam weights so he can "work out" with Daddy in the living room.  Last week, Samantha sent me a video of him riding an adult stationary bike at the YMCA.  It was pretty awesome to see, but Samantha mentioned the gym supervisor promptly, but politely told him that he needed to dismount.  Even though he seemed to have a good grasp on how to ride the bike, it was probably for the best that he not be on there.  Suffice to say, Samantha is also adding several footsteps to her daily workout routine by simply being a toddler boy mom. 

First ferris wheel ride

I'm glad that Aidan is exposed to this kind of lifestyle.  I think it's good for him to go to the YMCA with Samantha and see what that part of her life is all about.  Even if he's technically not supposed to be in there, I love that he ventures into the weight room and the stationary bike area.  It's good for him to understand that this is where Mama goes almost everyday, and it's a super healthy habit.  It's great for him to see that his mom takes care of her health.  I also think its great for him see me working out in the living room and join in with his Styrofoam weights.  He's also used to seeing me in my running gear, he sees my snowboard and boogie board, and all the other stuff I have that fuels my passions.  He's always curious and wanting to know what everything is.  At this point in his life, his mind is absorbing like a sponge.  I think it's good for him to see that Mama and Daddy have their passions and hobbies and they take care of themselves.  When I was a little kid I wanted to be around adults who were happy and healthy, who loved what they did, and had cool hobbies and passions.  I hope we're providing that for Aidan.  We try.  This doesn't necessarily mean that I expect Aidan to become a runner, a snowboarder, a boogie boarder, a weight lifter, etc.  If he does, that would be awesome, but we would never force anything on him.  I just hope that he absorbs this reality around him, he views his parents in a positive way, and it inspires him to be a healthy and happy dude as he grows up.  Time will tell.   

Doing some strength training while we wait for a table at The Pancake House

I'm only three years in and I'm still learning how to navigate this whole parenting thing.  I'm by no means an expert.  But some advice that I would give to an expectant first time parent, if they asked, would be this.  Invest in yourself.  Invest in your physical health, your mental health, and don't give up on your hobbies, your passions, or your goals and dreams.  It might sound hard or even impossible when so much of your time is devoted to taking care of a kid.  It's challenging, but it's not impossible.  If we don't take care of our physical and mental health and we throw away our passions and dreams, what's left?  We would be miserable, and I don't think anyone wants their kid to grow up around that.  When parents invest in their physical health, mental health, and their passions, it's not selfish.  It's setting a positive example for their kids.  It's showing them the difference between going through the motions and really living life.  It's giving kids an exciting life instead of a boring one.  In my opinion, happy parents are better parents than miserable parents.  The more positivity kids absorb, the better of a shot they have at success.

The Role of a Pacer: Burney Mountain 100-miler Edition Part 2

The finish line at the Burney Mountain Guest Ranch

Brianna arrived at the aid station at around 7:30 AM.  She looked tired, which was to be expected.  But overall, she was holding it together really well.  Upon arrival, she immediately took a seat by the fire while Nick and the volunteers brought her coffee and food.  Even though the sun had risen, the cold mountain air still lingered.  I noticed Brianna was wearing a clear plastic trash bag over her running gear for warmth.  It turned out the summit of Burney Mountain, where she just ran down from, was only twenty-eight degrees.  She told us the climb up to the summit in the dark was pretty sketchy.  Kaitie accompanied her during most of the climb but at some point, they got separated from each other.  Areas of fog had developed near the summit.  The fog became so thick, Brianna felt as though she was running in a cloud.  She could only see as far as the beam of her headlamp, which only lit up the white fluffiness that surrounded her.  All she could see was the trail when she looked down and the dense fog that surrounded her when she looked forward.  Even under normal circumstances, this situation wouldn't be ideal, but when you're sixty miles into an ultramarathon, going on twenty-six hours of no sleep, and you can't see where you're going, the situation becomes rather frightening.  There were no lights and no other runners in sight.  As she marched up the trail through the foggy darkness, Brianna was feeling very isolated.  In a moment of distress, she called out "hello? Is anyone out there?".  It was an unsettling situation, but shortly afterwards, her and Kaitie found each other again.  She was relieved, but unfortunately the rendezvous didn't remedy the fact that it was cold, foggy, and windy.  At least they had each other to get through that rough spot.  The aid station crew at the summit wrapped her up in a sleeping bag, and she took a forty-five-minute nap.  It helped to restore her energy a little, but when she woke up shivering, she knew it was time to get moving again.  The volunteers put the plastic trash bag around her as a makeshift poncho, and from there, she descended the eight-and-a-half miles down the mountain into the sunrise and back to the aid station.

We took off together down the path, departing the aid station at around 8:00 AM.  Brianna had thirty miles left to cover and twelve-and-a-half hours before the cutoff.  As long as she kept putting one foot in front of the other, she would make it.  My job as the pacer was to do everything in my power to help her get to the finish line.  The rest of the course was mostly downhill and didn't have any major climbs, so I felt cautiously optimistic.  It's a hundred miles, so a lot of things could happen.  But at least at the moment, things looked pretty promising.  Brianna's knee was still hurting her, but she was able to mitigate the soreness by taking pain killers.  She assured Nick and I that she felt confident that she wasn't at risk of doing long-lasting damage to her knee, so we trusted that.  We hiked our way down a dirt road through the wilderness that would lead us to the Goose Valley Road aid station, eleven miles away.  Nick, Fierra, and Chevelle passed by us in the van along the way and cheered for us.  Even though we were able to pass the time by engaging in casual conversation, we were eager to get to the next aid station.  We were making good enough time that we could have hiked the rest of the race and still finished, but to calm Brianna's fears of missing the cutoff, we decided to get some time "in the bank".  We picked up the pace and ran a little bit here and there.  Brianna initially felt like she couldn't run anymore because of her knee pain, but to her surprise, she was able to shuffle for about a minute at a time.  Sometimes you just need to try something to see what you're capable of.

The Goose Valley Road aid station

The dirt road eventually deposited us onto Goose Valley Road, and the aid station came into view in a parking lot on the roadside.  It was a welcoming site.  A few of the race staff and volunteers had driven by us on the dirt road offering kudos and advising us that we were getting closer.  With an eleven-mile gap, it was one of the longest stretches between aid stations on the course.  Nick, Fierra, and Chevelle were waiting for us when we arrived.  One of the really exciting parts of this adventure was having Fierra and Chevelle witness their mom do something so extraordinary.  At twelve and ten years old, it seemed cool for them to witness firsthand how dedicated Brianna was and how anyone can do hard things if they put in the effort.  They were also used to spending a lot of time outdoors, so they seemed to enjoy carting around in the family van to the aid stations.  I'm sure Biscuit was enjoying the ride too.  The volunteers were cooking up breakfast quesadillas for the runners and the crew members on camping stoves.  They had all the fixings you could want.  Scrambled eggs, bacon, cheese, sausage, etc.  The volunteers and aid stations at this race were really top notch.  Many of the staff members and volunteers were friends and family members of Jen, the race director, and founding member of Intermountain Endurance.  Jen is a local runner from Burney who founded Intermountain Endurance to put on local races including this one, the Weekend at Burney backyard ultra, and the Great Shasta Rail Trail Races, which I ran in 2023 and 2024.  What kept me coming back year after year was this community and how cool the people were.  There was definitely a lot of local spirit in the air.  The breakfast quesadillas were delicious, and with our stomachs full, Brianna and I departed the Goose Valley Road aid station and made our way up a long a steady incline through a ranch.  Along the way we passed by Kaitie and gave her some words of encouragement.  She seemed to be managing well, and we were pretty sure we'd be seeing her again over the next several miles.

Making our way through the rail trail section

At the top of the incline the path deposited us onto a long, straight rail trail that would continue on for several miles through the wilderness.  Tall pine trees lined much of the path.  The temperature was comfortable, but when the sun felt hot, the trees did a good job of providing shade on the trailside.  Even though the path was straight and fully visible on the horizon, the scenery was beautiful.  At this point, Brianna was experiencing mild hallucinations.  She would see what she thought were animals, or people lying down off the side of the trail, but they kept turning out to be logs.  Hallucinating is a pretty common thing during 100-milers.  I've had my share of hallucinations during ultramarathons, and it's always a trip.  The best thing to do was to keep moving onward.  We came to a river crossing at mile eighty-six.  One of the volunteers at the last aid station advised us to cross the river using the path with mowed grass, otherwise we would be chest deep in water, versus knee deep if we went through the mowed grass.  Brianna and I made it across, then used a rope to hoist ourselves up the embankment.  From there, it was two miles along the rail trail to the next aid station at Black Ranch.  We paused there to spend a few minutes with the crew and volunteers, and refill our water and electrolytes.  Brianna's knee was still hurting, but the pain was manageable.  Over the last several miles we had been hiking and shuffling along.  When we left the Black Ranch aid station, we had twelve miles left to go, and the cutoff for the finish line was six hours away.  The pitch along the rail trail was relatively flat with only modest elevation change, so as we shuffled along and made up more time, our concerns about making the cutoff slowly melted away.  As long as there were no major issues, Brianna would beat the cutoff by plenty of time.  To her credit, she was holding it together really well, especially for her first 100-mile attempt.  We crossed the junction where the path intersected with highway 89 and came upon a water drop around mile ninety-six.  The finish line was getting closer with each step.  With four miles left to go, the course left the rail trail and diverted us onto the Pacific Crest Trail.  The path was narrow, and rugged in some areas.  We also would go long periods without seeing one of the red and white ribbons that marked the course.  We had a couple of instances where we wondered if we missed a turn, but then we would come upon a ribbon and realize that all was good.    

When we crossed the junction at highway 299, that meant we only had two miles left until the finish.  Brianna was dead tired, her knee was hurting, and she was running low on energy.  "I don't even know what I'm doing anymore" she said.  "Me no likey".  I couldn't help but chuckle to myself a little.  This is the beauty of ultrarunning.  It brings out so many emotions in people.  During marathons, most runners hit the wall sometime between mile twenty and mile twenty-three.  During a 100-miler, runners hit multiple walls.  And once enough miles are covered, the psychological barriers get stripped away and we get a firsthand look at the good, the bad, and the hilarious.  I gave Brianna some positive psychological encouragement and assured her that we were on the home stretch, and we'd be at the finish line before we knew it.  We made our way through the powerlines section and soon came upon a sign indicating that we had arrived at the Burney Mountain Guest Ranch, where the start and finish line were.  We spotted the finish line in the distance and began shuffling as quickly as we could.  As we got closer, we could see Nick, Fierra, Chevelle, Jen, and several other runners and volunteers cheering us on.  Brianna crossed the finish line at 6:30 PM, clocking in at exactly thirty-eight hours, with two hours to spare before the cutoff.  It was incredible to see!  We were all proud of her for the grit and determination she displayed along the way.  She had conquered the unthinkable and we were all super happy for her.  The whole crowd gathered around her and gave her hugs, congratulating her on her finish.  It was a really cool moment for Nick, Fierra, and Chevelle to witness.  I knew this was something they would remember for the rest of their lives.  Brianna was now a 100-mile finisher, and that would stick with their family forever.  Kaitie ended up coming in as the final runner, thirty minutes before the cutoff time, so it was great to see her finish as well.  It was an awesome day, and I was honored to be part of the journey. 

Finish line crew photo

Once the dust settled, Nick gave me a ride back to my car at the base of Burney Mountain aid station.  He, Brianna, and the rest of the family we're going to be camping at the Burney Mountain Guest Ranch that night and would be driving back home to the town of Volcano, California the next morning.  When we reached my car, the aid station had been packed up and hauled away, and my car was the only one left on the remote dirt path.  It almost looked as if nothing had happened.  This intersection of these dirt roads in the middle of the wilderness, where thirty runners had passed through over the last forty hours, was once again quiet and desolate.  Nick and I embraced in a hug and told each other we'd keep in touch.  We talked about all meeting up to run a half marathon together somewhere in between where we both lived, so hopefully we can make that happen.  Once I got back to my motel room, I got a good night of sleep and headed out early the next morning for the long drive back home.  It had been another successful 100-mile pacing weekend.  I was grateful that I could be part of another runner's journey to their first 100-mile finish.  The drive home passed by relatively quickly since I had so much to think about and such a cool experience to relive.  All of this is part of what keeps me going as an ultrarunner.  Above all, I missed Samantha and Aidan, and I was eager to get back home and see them.    

The Role of a Pacer: Burney Mountain 100-miler Edition Part 1

Sunset near Burney Mountain while driving back into town from the Cypress Trailhead aid station.

Most of time when I tell people that I'm going to pace a runner for a 100-mile race, I'm not sure if they fully understand what I'm talking about.  I think to some people it sounds so bizarre, they don't know what to make of it.  They simply can't wrap their heads around someone running a hundred miles, so they just say "cool, have fun with that".  I think other times, people think I'm going to be running a hundred miles around a track with a megaphone, calling out lap times and telling people they need to move their asses.  Not many people outside of the ultramarathon world understand at first, but I'd say about half of the time, people are intrigued and ask me to tell them more.  Once I explain it, they seem to understand and appreciate it.  Most 100-mile race participants have pacers for the second half of the race, or perhaps the last thirty or twenty miles.  Even the elite runners usually have someone there.  Pacers are often friends or family members who are crazy enough, and willing to share the adventure with the runners.  Pacing a runner during a 100-miler can mean a couple of different things.  When someone paces an elite runner who is competitive and going for the win, the experience is almost all business.  The pacer is expected to run seven to eight minute miles with the runner for at least twenty miles.  Additionally, they are expected to push the runner to their maximum potential, make sure they don't spend too much time at the aid stations, and make sure they're eating and drinking enough.  Basically, they're expected to be extremely efficient, and maximize the runner's chances of achieving their race goal.  But for most 100-mile race runners, particularly first timers, it's not quite as intense.  When people are pacing less competitive runners who are going for a thirty to thirty-five hour finish, their role is more focused on keeping the runner company so they keep moving.  The runner and the pacer will often share stories and engage in conversation to pass the time.  Most of the time, all these runners need is someone to talk to them, give them positive words of encouragement, make sure they're eating and drinking, and make sure they don't lose their composure or wander off course.  Rather than seven or eight minute miles, pacers are often half running, half hiking, or even mostly hiking the remaining miles of the race with the runner.

I've paced five runners at 100-mile races over the last seven years.  My specialty seems to be first timers going for a thirty to thirty-five hour finish.  Which means we're often hiking together through the mountains for the last thirty to forty miles of the race and occasionally running when we're able to.  It's equal parts work and play, and my approach to pacing runners is often lighthearted and fun.  I love pacing first time 100-mile runners.  An ultrarunner's first 100-mile race is something they always remember, and I love being part of that journey.  My favorite part is seeing their reaction when they cross the finish line.  That raw emotion that comes pouring out, knowing that they just conquered the unthinkable.  So, when the opportunity arose for me to pace a runner at the Burney Mountain 100-miler this past weekend, I jumped all over it.  Brianna, the runner I was going to be pacing, chose the Burney Mountain 100 as her first 100-miler, having made the decision to sign up just three months prior.  We touched base often on her training and progress.  She trained quite a bit in those three months, but the longest distance she logged was a single thirty-three mile training run.  That's not very much distance to cover for preparing for a 100-miler, but she felt confident and determined that she could finish.  The plan was for me to pace her for the last thirty miles from the aid station at the base of Burney Mountain to the finish line at the Burney Mountain Guest Ranch.  Her husband, Nick, and her two daughters, Fierra and Chevelle, accompanied her on the trip, and were planning to be at the aid stations to crew for her. 

Charm Motel in Burney

I arrived in the town of Burney at 3:00 PM on Friday June 20th, 2025, after a ten-hour drive from Laguna Niguel.  The race had started at 4:30 AM that morning.  Although cell phone reception along the course was sporadic, Nick had been doing a great job with keeping me updated on Brianna's progress and letting me know when she was arriving at the aid stations.  He informed me that she had twisted her knee around mile seven.  It was painful, but she continued on, hoping it wouldn't turn into a major issue later on in the race.  When I arrived, I checked into my room that I had booked for the weekend at the Charm Motel off highway 299.  As much as I love living in Orange County, it was nice to be in a small, quiet town in a mountain wilderness setting for a couple of days.  I took a nap in my room for a couple of hours and woke up to a text from Nick letting me know that Brianna had left the Tamarack aid station at mile thirty-five and was on her way to the Cypress Trailhead aid station at mile forty-eight.  I headed out to go meet up with the crew in hopes of catching Brianna before she departed the aid station for the base of Burney Mountain.  The drive to the aid station was pretty fast until I made a right turn off highway 89 by the fire station near Hat Creek.  From there, it was a ten-mile rally through the mountains on a dusty, rugged dirt road with steep drop offs.  Even though it was sketchy at times, the scenery was beautiful.  I stopped my car periodically to take a moment to enjoy the picturesque setting.  The aid station was at a campground in the middle of the wilderness with no cell phone reception, but when I finally arrived, I quickly located Nick, Fierra, Chevelle, and their dog, Biscuit.  We lingered around the campground together as they told me about how wild of a day it had been.  They were having a good time but had a couple of stressful moments earlier on in the race when they were trying to locate the aid stations in the remote wilderness.  They had driven their van around the course from aid station to aid station and managed to make it to every single one in time to meet Brianna.  Being a crew member during a 100-miler can be taxing, and Nick, Fierra, and Chevelle were doing a fantastic job at making sure Brianna was being taken care of.  We talked a little about Nick's running history as well.  I got a good laugh when he told me he stopped to have a cigarette at mile nine of his last half-marathon, then went on to finish the race.

Brianna emerged on the trail and rolled into the aid station around 8:00 PM.  She had covered forty-eight miles in fifteen-and-a-half hours.  The race had a forty-hour cutoff, so she was making good time.  Aside from her knee giving her trouble, she looked pretty fresh.  She was tired, but not too haggard and beat up.  This was promising to see.  The halfway point of a 100-mile race can be tough.  Runners have been on the trail all day, and they have to mentally contend with the fact that they need to run fifty more miles, when they've already been through so much.  It can be overwhelming, but the best thing to do is just take it one mile and one aid station at a time.  After having some time off her feet and eating some noodles with soup broth, Brianna grabbed her polls and hit the trail once again, heading for the base of Burney Mountain at mile fifty-four.  From there, she would make the eight-and-a-half mile climb to the summit, then head back down to the aid station.  I bade the crew farewell for now and headed back into town to eat and get some rest for the night shift.  Based on Brianna's current pace, I expected she would be back down from Burney Mountain and reach the aid station at mile seventy-one around 4:00 AM, where I would meet up with her and pace her the rest of the way.  Even though I had a comfy bed in my motel room, I decided to head to the aid station after I ate dinner.  Rather than sleep at the motel I decided it would be less risky if I went to the aid station and slept in the back of my car until Brianna arrived.  That way I could just get there instead of taking the risk of getting lost trying to find the aid station and potentially having to make Brianna wait.  The drive along the dusty dirt road in the mountains was similar to the drive I had done a few hours earlier.  It was pitch black outside, and tall pine trees lined the dark, narrow path on both sides.  

The aid station finally emerged through the brush.  It was set up in a clearing where the dirt roads intersected.  The canvas tent was set up with a table full of snacks and provisions for runners, along with a propane fueled fire pit and several foldable chairs.  Cars from volunteers and crew members were parked along the dirt road.  I arrived shortly after 11:00 PM.  The aid station was fairly quiet in the nighttime wilderness, and a couple of runners sat near the fire trying to stay warm.  Beyond the light that the fire gave off, it was sheer darkness in every direction.  We were miles up into the mountains, far away from everything, with no cell phone reception.  This place was truly remote.  I was advised by a volunteer that Brianna had passed through and began her ascent up Burney Mountain just a few minutes prior.  She was making the ascent with Kaitie, a runner from Oregon, who she had been leapfrogging throughout the race.  It was a seventeen-mile roundtrip back to the aid station, so I figured she'd be back down in four to five hours.  I walked back to my car to get some sleep while I awaited her arrival.  I spotted Nick's van along the side of the road.  It was darkened, so I assumed he, Fierra, and Chevelle were hunkered down inside getting some sleep.  Once back at my car, I changed into my running clothes, folded the backseat down, and crawled into my sleeping bag.  Over the next several hours, I awoke sporadically but managed to get a little rest.  By 5:30 AM, the crack of dawn had filled the sky with vivid color.  I sat up, looked out my window, and saw Nick at the aid station, so I hopped out to check in with him.  Brianna was still tackling the trek up and down Burney Mountain, and Nick informed me that she expected to be down within a couple of hours.  I was glad to hear that she had made it through the night and was still going.  Even though it was the first day of summer, it was quite chilly outside, so I retreated back to my car and cozied up in my sleeping bag to stay warm until she arrived.  It had been a fun experience so far.  I laughed as I laid in my sleeping bag in my running gear.  "We're ultrarunners, this is what we do" I said to myself.  

  

Base of Burney Mountain aid station at dawn