Feeling the Heat

on workouts and 2025 running plans

Trail Mix is a newsletter full of stories about life and running, dispatches from the wilderness, and essays about how it all collides.

I’d forgotten the specific ache of trying to run fast in the cold.

My lungs reminded me, as the trail pitched up and asked me to push harder to maintain my effort up the climb.

My breath responded, quickening with my steps. The cold air pooled in my lungs and it felt like they were coated in the same frost that laced the earth. Each inhale was a shot of ice.

I was doing my first real workout in months and my body was reminding me of all kinds of sensations that can hit when you run hard.

The lead that seeps into your legs as the minutes stretch on. The mental battle between relenting and digging. The rush of satisfaction when you choose the latter. The beautiful reminder that you can do a lot with lead in your body.

I’d taken an extended break from intentional training since finishing Hardrock last July. I still logged plenty of miles after I recovered, but without any real agenda. Now, with a strong base in my legs and summer runs on my mind, I’ve been craving more work and purpose.

My workout plan was to run a three-mile climb at a steady effort. At a relatively quick, yet sustainable pace that would let me sing-a-long when Sabrina Carpenter Espresso’d, but leave me feeling like I’d tried by the time I reached the top of the butte. The goal wasn’t to empty myself, but to make the miles count.

As the trail flattened through the next bend, my legs picked up the pace, seizing the chance to spin at a faster rate. Endorphins surged through me.

The trail grew steeper as I rounded the corner. I pushed a little harder – feeling the pull of the climb.

---

“What are you training for?” a running friend had asked me just days earlier.

“I don’t really know,” I told him. “But I know I want to be training right now.”

The “what’s next?” question for running has remained a bit of a mystery for months.

Before I went back to Hardrock for my third time last summer, I’d said, “If I have a good race, I think I can take a break before doing Hardrock again.”

But I knew that was a lie as soon as I kissed the rock. I didn’t just have a good race. I had a phenomenal run. I shaved over three hours off my best time and finished sixth for women and seventeenth overall, with a big smile glued to my face for many of the 102.5 miles.

I got the great run I was chasing – but I didn’t want a break, I wanted more. Hardrock has burrowed into my heart and soul and I can’t get enough of the run, the community, and the mountains that all make it so special.

But the decision about whether to go back was not actually mine alone to make and this year’s lottery didn’t gift me with an entry to the 2025 run.

With Hardrock missing from my race schedule for the first time in three years, there’s a lot of blank space to play with. And I’ve been flirting with different ideas about how to fill it.

There are a bunch of runs and races that I’ve been curious about, but haven’t had the calendar real estate to do: The 200-mile distance, some of the classic long trails that require a multiday effort, races in new mountain ranges around the world (though, I’m inherently less interested in any run that Dilly can’t travel to, which limits the “around the world” part of that).

Rather than rush into a decision, I’ve been sitting with different possibilities to feel where the heat is. Because I’ve learned that I need to care deeply about what I’m chasing to get the best out of myself, in training and racing, and to get the most out of the chase.

I’ve ever done runs that haven’t ignited my excitement compass. And they usually don’t go well. I once did a 100-mile race solely to get a lottery ticket for Western States and I spent about 7 hours sitting in aid stations along the way, wallowing in instant ramen and questionable life decisions, because I just didn’t care.

My “why” needs to run deeper. It needs to encompass more than a quick result. I want to feel inspired and charged by the pursuit – and curious about what I can get out of myself and running, not just during the race, but in the months leading up to it.

I think about how some go-to advice for how to write, is to write about what you’re obsessed with. I think that running benefits from the same philosophy.

My buildup to Hardrock last year was some of the best, most joyful, and most rewarding training I’ve ever done because it was fueled by that deep love for Hardrock and by my excitement to explore what I can do in the San Juans. I’m pretty…obsessed with Hardrock — and that’s led me to some of my happiest, strongest, and most fulfilling miles. That’s what I’m looking for.

So right now, I’m asking myself: What’s calling to me? What keeps popping into my head? When I close my eyes and picture myself in a heart-fluttering place this summer, where am I? What’s going to light up my training, and life, for the next several months?

Where’s the heat?

---

The biting air burned my fingers as I started the last half-mile of the climb. I wiggled them inside my thin gloves, trying to fight off the sharp pain from the Arctic blast that was whipping through Eugene.

I lifted my gaze with the hillside and saw the trail climb into the next set of switchbacks. My legs were growing heavier and asking for relief as I neared the top of the butte. I looked at the next incline like a target and accelerated into it.

The sun spilled into the forest, beams cutting through the piney canopy and casting slivers of light over the dirt.

I danced across the rays of light, charged by how good it felt to feed this craving and fill my body with a satisfying fatigue.

The forest yielded to a rocky staircase that winds its way to the summit. My elbows punched the sky behind me as I pumped my arms through the last grunt of the climb.

As I ran the final steps, I thought about how I don’t know what I’ll do with these miles, that iced my lungs and set my quads on fire.

But I know there is heat in this running and that’s exactly what I’m looking for right now.