Anorexia Nervosa

John and I grabbed a table after ordering our dinner where we proceeded to make small talk, sip our drinks, and take in the ambiance as we waited.

Then, for about the billionth time, my mind started freaking out. Here we go. I didn't let him on to the inner turmoil and nervousness bubbling up inside of me. Anxiety-filled thoughts about the food, the ingredients and the impending meal clouded my brain. I was fidgety. I practically began chugging my glass of wine as an attempt to chill out. I felt my heart beating faster. Flushed. Brain on overload. Obsessive thoughts about food overwhelmed me. More wine....

I was second-guessing the order we just made. What were the ingredients? Was it the healthiest, best choice? Does this place really use quality ingredients or are they BS-ing? Should I have found a "better" restaurant for us? I had spent an hour on Yelp researching what was nearby, deciding that this one restaurant--an artisan pizza place with quality ingredients--would meet our needs for a healthy yet somewhat indulgent delicious Friday night dinner date. But now I wasn't so sure (for no reason). Shit.

C'mon wine, set in, I thought. It was the first time in a long time that I was "using" wine for this reason again.

The anxiety was real. I had control over the choice of restaurant, but now I had no more control over the situation. All I could do was wait. The meal was in the hands of someone else. I had to let go... but... ugh. John hadn't caught on to anything being wrong with me. I was pretending to be as cool and casual as ever. I've gotten pretty damn good at that over the years.

Finally pizza No. 1 came. A "personal size" gourmet pizza. It looked good--great actually. I wondered if they remembered to use the gluten-free crust. I hoped the GF crust didn't have too much starch or gum-type ingredients, which upset my GI system. They brought pizza No. 2, but it was the wrong one! Shit. We sent it back, hoping they'd remake it the right.

Ugh...

SHUT UP AND ENJOY THIS! ENJOY YOUR MAN! ENJOY THE FOOD!

I dove in for a slice.

My heart was pounding. John was already halfway through his first slice at this point. He had no idea.

I tried to take a moment before that first bite to calm down and ease my mind. Telling myself the same old, "You're fine. What's the worst that can happen? Just enjoy.... Don't scarf it down. Don't turn this into something ridiculous." I know from past experience that I'm more likely to get an upset stomach and digestive issues if I eat while overly anxious.

I found some peace after a little self-talk, breathing and positive thinking.

Those first couple bites settled well. I was feeling better. I was over the hurdle. The anxiety left. Relaxed. No longer feeling threatened. It was no longer Tawnee vs. Food. Flight or fight over; transitioned into rest and digest mode. And thankfully the wine pour was meager so I never even got a buzz—I was clear-headed. I laid off the wine... I enjoy the taste, but I didn't "need" it nor a buzz.

The second pizza came, the right order this time, along with a side of veggies. We enjoyed the evening. I was able to recover from that little episode and have a happy fun date with my man. I didn't make a dramatic scene about it... although, the next day I did tell him what had happened. He understood. He knows.

Stress and anxiety over food is nothing new for me. There's a history. And in this post I want to open up about a battle I've fought that I've never shared publicly.

~~~

Anorexia Nervosa: Overview

In 2003 I developed anorexia nervosa (AN), an eating disorder (ED) characterized by self-starvation and excessive weight loss. It's been more than 10 years since I battled this disease, but it changed me forever. When it happened it was a like an all-consuming force that took over nearly instantly and it became my everything. The ED felt safe like being wrapped up in a warm blanket. But that blanket was suffocating me and leading me down a very scary path. The "why"—as in why did I develop AN?—actually makes a lot of sense if you look at the variables, my personality and the situation I was in when it started. ED's are something I've explored deeply in research, books and case studies, and my situation makes sense. Normally the stories don't always have such a bright ending and relapse is common. That's where I differ. I recovered. I got back on my feet and was able to look at myself, see the damage I was doing, where my life was going and put an end to it. I could have given in and stayed on a path of self-destruction; it would have either left me helpless needing care 24/7, or worse, it would have killed me. But I knew better. I wanted a thriving life.

In this past decade post-ED I've learned how to fight a vicious addiction and use all my might to build back health and performance. I don't feel like an ED defines me in any way, but I think it's important to have it be known that it's part of my history and I'm not afraid to admit it.

One one hand I consider myself incredibly lucky for the fast recovery I made; however, unfortunately, I've since battled with periods of disordered eating behaviors, disordered thoughts and episodes of inner turmoil. Each year since '03 I know the ED tendencies have haunted me, but each year the issues fade away more and more. I think 2013 was a huge turning point; I started to pursue true health and more self-love, and in the process learned how seriously harmful any level of an ED can be. I realized I allowed years of those disordered behaviors to manifest in sport and daily life—I certainly had the female athlete triad even back then though I would have never admitted it. My ongoing issues were not enough to be considered a relapse, but enough to be unhealthy. As of this year, 2015, I know the worst is behind me; I don't sneakily allow disordered behaviors, and I certainly don't restrict. Instead, I'm continuing to work on me and my so-called weaknesses—things like fostering more self-love, which was lacking for so long, and trying not to be so damn hard on myself, nor push my body to extremes like I know how to do all too well. I can be very disciplined and live very extreme in a way that few could sustain, and while sometimes this works toward my benefit, I know it's equally self-destructive when it gets out of hand.

The one area where it still gets sticky in all the years since, even currently, is when that old "ED stress" blindsides me and takes over. The closest thing I can relate it to a form of PTSD for a former anorexic, and it varies in severity, but I have these "ED flashbacks" where the stress and anxiety are sometimes too much to handle and I shut down. Triggers may be: Having no knowledge or control over food ingredients and prep; if the food being served might be iffy but I know I'm going to be asked to eat it; too many food choices and decisions to make; if I fear that others might judge or question my healthy choices (i.e. "no bread please," "dressing or sauce on the side," or "no thanks, I don't want to eat at Denny's." These things sometimes may lead me to internally (or externally) freak out, worry like crazy and go into fight or flight mode. Thanksgiving is tough—I've been known to worry about that meal for days in advance. Going to shitty restaurants is no fun. Social gatherings can be a high-alert situation. I can even get overwhelmed at a place like Whole Foods trying to decide the healthiest things to eat and scrutinizing all the choices. I also have deeply worries about others judging my food choices, and I fear having to explain myself and why I eat how I do. I can't stay at home and cook every meal forever, I won't avoid social connections, I have to branch out and live my life, and actually later on in this post I'll talk about why I think it's good "therapy" to go outside one's comfort zone and face reality (it doesn't mean being forced to eat the bad stuff, either).

First, let's back up to the beginnings of this ED...

How It Happened

My anorexia began when I was in college at SDSU, during Winter Break of my freshman year, and it accelerated quickly. It triggered due to many variables—I had gained the freshman 15 and 15+ more, I so much desired to be skinnier like the other girls around me, I was a perfectionist to the max degree, Type A and easily obsessed, and I was also subconsciously having separation issues being "all alone" away from home for the first time. The final nail in the coffin that triggered a full-blown eating disorder was after I got my tonsils out over Winter Break and couldn't eat much for a period of time; it happened to be a long, delayed recovery due to the wound re-opening and needed a second round of treatment. That kick-started weight loss and the light bulb went on in my head that restricting calories could get me the leaner body I so deeply wanted, and I could have the ultimate control in the process. This was very attractive to my 18-year-old self. At the time I was far from my normal, healthy weight and sick of what I saw in the mirror; I was insecure and vulnerable; I needed something to grasp onto.

The ED just exploded from there, looking back it makes perfect sense. My restrictive behavior was further validated when I got comments from college friends noticing the weight loss and new bod, and saying how good I looked. Guys were paying attention to me finally, and I was the one being chased for once. Little did they know they were fueling the fire...  I loved the attention, and I went even more extreme. My behavior toward food clearly became odd, and I know my close girl friends probably noticed but just didn't know what to say. I became more distant and closed off. I would spend all my extra effort thinking about food, analyzing my body and figuring out how little I could eat to still function but lose more weight. It was a complete obsession. Before I knew it I was a shadow of my former self. I couldn't even surf anymore because I was too cold. I wouldn't even eat with my friends because my behaviors were too odd, I had to eat alone. If I did go out with friends or on weekend trips I'd make excuses as to why I wouldn't eat—or I'd have a salad with no dressing, no meat, no fat, as low of calories as possible. I was definitely terrified of any dietary fat, but meanwhile "safe carbs" i.e. those with lots of fiber, were my friend, as were all the diet/low calorie products... and gum.

Meanwhile, I was running and exercising daily, walking miles and miles around campus, and going to the gym—the exercise was part of the formula.

I never completely stopped eating, I just ate as little as possible to still function, and I'd only eat the same handful of foods that were deemed safe. It was easy for me to turn down invites to eat out or offers to share someone's food. I had impeccable discipline and control. Every day was a victory when I got away with barely eating and becoming leaner. Meanwhile, I was still getting straight A's and appearing as if I were "perfect" or so I thought. I was partying a lot too, burning the candle on both ends, and at parties I'd get a bunch of attention unlike I ever had before. I was also drinking with reckless abandon, which brought out a confidence I didn't have when I was sober. I'd be sure to eat less on days I knew we would drink to balance out my calories.

It was all ridiculously unhealthy and a serious problem.

By spring '04 I had withered away into nothing. My parents didn't know how bad it had gotten until they saw me, and they quickly intervened. After my freshman year wrapped up, I moved home for the summer for rehab. I never was hospitalized (thank god, because I hear horror stories about treatment in hospital), but my case did require treatment and therapy, which detoured my life for a period of time. Namely we did family-based therapy; regular appointments with a nutritionist, psychologist, psychiatrist; and straight-up one-on-one time with myself to figure shit out.

Recovering

I recovered within a year from the worst of it because I was able to adopt the right mindset and attitude. I would have self-talk that entailed something like, "I will not let this bring me down, I have to much to do, too many goals, and an awesome life to live."

There were several keys to my recovery: 1) admitting it out loud to myself and everyone else; 2) an incredibly supportive family who didn't judge, but just loved me and gave me the loving attention I needed; 3) family-based therapy which gave me the freedom to reconnect with food and exercise in a healthy way (nothing forced); and 4) my own mind telling me to rise above to live a healthy, fun, fulfilling life and to develop a strong, capable body—which is how it once was when I was a varsity volleyball player, surfer girl, snowboarder, and mountain biker back in high school. (I finally realized that it doesn't feel good to be so weak that you can't do anything fun with your body.)

Meanwhile, the "doctors" tried to tell me I was depressed and all that. I call bullshit. I wasn't depressed. They prescribed me anti-depressants, I reluctantly tried them, nothing happened other than feeling even worse and actually feeling for a moment that maybe I was more fucked up than I thought, and that I was not worthy of happiness. My brain started to convince myself that I was depressed. That is scary shit. I threw out those meds and never looked back.

It's like that phrase from Dirty Dancing, "No one puts Baby in the corner." In my case, it was like, "No one tells Tawnee she's depressed and has to be on drugs." Screw you and your medical degree, Mr. Psychiatrist, you don't know me!

Many anorexics get to the point where it's not even really about being stick thin anymore—instead, the disorder takes over and it's the obsessions, need for control and restrictive nature from which they can't break free, so they continue down that path even if they understand the harm they're doing. But somehow I was able to avoid this path with a strong mindset. I saw the harm I was doing and was said, "Shit, this has to end."

Those same traits that led to developing anorexia (the perfectionist, over-achiever, Type A, obsessive personality) were also the same ones that helped me recover, move on, and now thrive. I became obsessed with recovering as fast as possible and my goal was to make it back to SDSU for sophomore year and not have to take a leave of absence. Maybe it was not totally healthy to force it so quickly, but I was determined and it worked. I proved to my parents, counselors, and friends that I was back on my feet.

It could have been way worse. I could have given in and lived labeled as "anorexic"—and I won't lie, there were days where it sounded attractive to just give into the disease and let that be it forever. But I said fuck that. I was determined not to let anorexia define me, control me, nor ruin me. Not me! I was/am lucky to be a tough chick.

I never relapsed to that really "bad" place. I can assume it's because I was not going to let my zest for life and potential go to waste with a disease like AN. And being weak is seriously not fun.

But It Doesn't Disappear That Easily

The psychology of the eating disorder, the ability to become anxious over food on the drop of a dime, the body-images issues, and issues with weight.... All of that didn't just disappear. It takes time and so much effort to truly heal. My healing is 10+ years in the making.

First of all, even though I was at an ok weight by 2005 and able to eat more normally, I think I allowed some level of an eating disorder for the rest of my time at SDSU (i.e. through 2007) and the disordered behaviors continued thereafter, but I kept it at bay. I truly didn't want to go back to that horrible state, yet I was still often defaulting to those odd behaviors and/or ED tricks. For example, I would stress out and "run away" from food situations that were too risky (i.e. a pizza party at work); and instead I'd hide in my car and eat my safe foods all alone instead—where no one would judge my food choices. I was still often very worried about my body and size, and deeply feared getting chubby again, so I did everything to control my weight so I wasn't fat but also not too skinny where it would be a red flag. I had a boyfriend whose family loved gourmet food and eating out, and of course I was always invited along. I'd often freak out internally over the chosen restaurants and would research menus for hours, figuring out what was a safe dish to order, and I'd make sure to exercise heavily prior to the dinner. At the restaurant I'd battle stressful moments until realizing the food was not going to kill me and that not everyone was going to scrutinize my choices nor corner me and drill me on anorexia. Despite the stress and odd behavior, I didn't avoid dining out like I once had. I stepped up to to the plate and participated in life. In fact, I went a step further and became somewhat of a foodie once I realized 80-20ish living is ok, and that trying a variety of foods can be fun. The older I got, the more I loosened up and enjoyed dining out and having fun experiences, allowing more variety and formerly "unsafe foods" were allowed back in.

Then there are the triathlon years.

Triathlon was a blessing but a challenge at the same time as it related to my ED history. On one hand, triathlon allowed me to see food as fuel and my ally to build a strong, capable body. Food was no longer the enemy and I embraced eating well to become a better athlete (granted, like most endurance athletes I I thought eating well meant high-carb, and I had my sugar-addiction phase while still fearing dietary fat, but eventually I wised up and that changed). On the other hand, for many years as a hardcore endurance athlete I think I very much allowed disordered eating and disordered exercise behaviors to win. Triathlon was an easy way to mask continued disordered behaviors, namely training to eat and training to earn my calories. I could keep the lean frame and eat lots as long as I maintained my rigid exercise routine. I was clearly out of energy balance having no period and probably other hormonal and health issues (though, I didn't start testing until '13). Bottom line: I was totally suffering from the female athlete triad, but I didn't recognize it let alone admit it. Even in grad school I read about the triad but literally thought, "That's not me. I had an ED, and I don't know. I'm ok." What I didn't realize is that you don't need a full-blown ED to suffer from the triad.

Earning calories and staying lean are certainly not the only reasons I did triathlon—I truly love the sport, love competing, love the challenge of swim-bike-run, love the process, love physiology and sports nutrition, and I especially love that it is all on me (not a team) to make it to improve and race to the finish line as fast as possible. Triathlon came into my life in '07 and made me feel alive unlike anything I've ever felt! Sadly, though, those old ED tricks were sabotaging me. I was still lacking self-love and respect for my body, thus allowing destructive, stressful behaviors that longterm I'd find weren't sustainable. I now see that I would underfuel during training and even racing sometimes, and train way too hard (where was Maffetone?!). I still maintained a rigid control over my food, eating what I thought was healthy and avoiding dietary fats, and and the only times I'd "go big" with food were after a huge training days or a race—and in those cases I'd "binge" on things like burgers, booze and desserts letting all inhibitions down. I hadn't grasped the art of fueling for true health and performance. Meanwhile, I lived on the stress train; I was fueled by high-stress living, and asking so much of my body. This went on for years before tanking and taking a stand to change my ways.

Many of us, especially athletes, have some issues with food and body image—questioning what to eat, what will be best for our bodies, what foods to avoid (especially challenging in this day and age), how we can control food and exercise to get the body we want, how training/racing validates gluttonous behavior, or how sport literally is masking an eating disorder. None of that is healthy. But I don't blame you or me so much. We've created a society that's obsessed with image, looks and performance. Athletes, especially female athletes, are subject to scrutiny on so many levels, we're asked to be lean, fast, hot, sexy, successful and meanwhile work, cook, have babies and do it all. The "requirements" of the modern woman are pathetic and it's no wonder women like I take it to an extreme. Guys have it almost as bad. As such, it seems like many of us are constantly in a battle with our selves, never totally satisfied with appearance, always worrying about calories, and in the process developing severe body-image issues and ED-like behaviors. It's tough. I get it.

But let's get real. Take a step back, face it, own it, and don't pretend it's not happening. I finally did that (the same way when I first recovered from an ED), and it's helped more than I can describe.

Moving On & Striving for True Healthy

All in all, I've been able to regain a level of health and fitness that's quite incredible if you think about where I've been. I've built myself back up from nothing—built back my muscles, my endurance, my hormones and health, and all of it! I've never lost my zest for life, and I've always held on to happiness. Today the idea of restricting or even being wrapped up in the female athlete triad sounds awful to me. The idea of being too skinny sounds so painfully cruel to do to my body. I strive to be strong, healthy and thrive, using food as fuel to nourish a healthy body and life. It makes me sad when I see women and men clearly suffering, and letting ED behaviors rule their life and sport—I can spot it from a mile away.

In the 10-plus years since my ED, my relationship with food and body has evolved. It started as a destructive disease of restriction and dangerously low body weight, then active recovery and re-gaining my life, then it manifested into the female athlete triad while I relentlessly pursued triathlon, then I started figuring it out and tried to avoid destruction, and now I'm into the phase of pursuing honest true health, nourishment, self-love and peace. Healthy eating and a healthy body have always been important to me, but for a long time my definition of healthy was skewed. Not any more. I understand the truth and through practice, I've learned how real healthy eating makes me feel great, whereas crappy food or dieting or restricting or "fake healthy" or living off sugar and stress does not bode well for me. And I've learned that with the right food and treatment my body maintains a healthy state. With all I've been through, why at this point would I want to put crap in me and feel like crap? My body has suffered enough.

So the last piece I'm working on is the stress and worry as it relates to food and body. As mentioned earlier, the closest thing I can relate it to is someone with PTSD. I can easily snap and go off the deep end worrying about food and my body. I know I can't let it be this much of a stressor nor send me off the deep end anymore.

Going back to the pizza episode. Here's what I think. I think it's fair that I concern myself with ingredients in these situations especially considering the world in which we live and that food quality in the US is sketchy at best if you're not careful. However, I'm not like your casual human who just wants to make an innocent healthy choice. I'm dealing with this history, my brain is too familiar with extreme stress over food. Irrational anxiety will take over, and I just have to manage it and use my tools to calm down. I don't want to avoid eating out either. Some of you may suggest to just always cook at home or only go to the trusted healthy restaurants. I don't want to have to confine myself to that, so I haven't. I believe it's good for me—and all of us—to avoid getting stuck at familiar and safe restaurants or with home-cooking. It builds strength to branch out, take risks, face potentially challenging situations, figure out solutions, and understand that it'll work out. I think the more I fight, the more likely I'll be able to win and break free for good. And this doesn't mean I'm going to go off the deep end and adopt an unhealthy diet akin to the SAD, c'mon we all know that won't happen ;)

Hold up. There is actually one more final component of this that makes it complicated these days, and that would be my gut issues, which are not just pretend in my head. My gut problems are very real and have been quite severe since my ED, but only since 2014 did I start connecting the dots, wake up to the fact that what I'm experiencing is NOT normal, and what I eat or don't eat makes a huge difference—so I choose wisely trying not to make it about a mental disorder. Interestingly, there is research stating that those with a history of an eating disorder are very likely to develop some level of gut issues within 10 years of the ED. This was a huge finding for me. Turns out, there's a very high correlation between those with ED's and gut disorders. I know there are other variables that contributed to my sensitive gut (from being a C-section baby to stress and overtraining), but there's no denying the ED played a role too. I guess I just have to work harder at fixing my gut :)

So that's where I'm at. Some who've had an ED say that the issues with food/body never go away but you just get better at managing. I'm not sure if that's true. I've dealt with this now for more than 10 years and every year I'm getting so much better, the issues are fewer and far between and certainly don't rule my life. These past fews years have been some of the best yet, and I've been feeling more and more freed up. I'm in much better balance and a much better headspace overall. In fact, I think the act of writing this blog is major progress because I no longer feel ashamed of this secret, and it's ok to lay it all out there.

I have faith that there can be peace and closure.

Lastly...

Why didn't I bring it up before?

As you might guess: Fear.

Fear of what you may think of me. I held back for years out of fear of the opinion and judgements of others, and fear of losing credibility as an athlete, coach and expert in my field. But I will not go forward in fear because this is a journey that needs to be told—I know it can help someone else who's struggling and inspire many others. It's time. I think it's extremely important to tell the whole story.

I'm not afraid anymore. I am so incredibly confident in who I am, what I do, and my knowledge base, and anorexia does not take away any of that. I am not defined by that piece of my history, but it is part of who I am and what I've become.

Meanwhile, I see many athletes out there silently suffering. No more! I feel it's my duty to open up about my history and let you know there's hope. You can recover and get back your zest for life! Consider me your go-to girl on how to break free from an ED and build back health and performance!

What's next for me? Lots. I started writing about my journey on this blog in fact (a separate post from this one), and about how the anorexia came to be, with intentions of describing in detail my post-anorexia days in triathlon, building a better relationship with food and my body, and all that. The blog started getting long, really long, like thousands of words. Not to mention all the research I started uncovering and citing in addition to my own story. I realized this is--and needs to be--much more than a blog post. This will be the biggest project of my life so far.

Whew.

Go hug someone, for me... thanks xo


Please note that I am not a doctor nor counselor. If you or someone you love has an eating disorder, or you suspect someone you know might have an ED, the right treatment plan is in your grasp. Here are some resources. Don't wait another second. There is life beyond this dark place. 

Beyond MAF: How to Add Volume, Go Longer, and Feel Your Best Ever

Recently--among the backpacking lovefest posts--I blogged in July that I was having a hard time running, and that my mind and body were resisting it. So I listened and let it go for a while, still remaining active in other ways including walking, which apparently some of my closest friends hate, i.e. lucho and michelle barton lol.

Well, it's funny how things evolved by listening to my body, giving it some time, and not forcing anything. Don't let the title "Beyond MAF" imply that I'm ditching the MAF Method; I'm just evolving and tweaking it to fit my needs and goals. Since MAF has no set template or plan and it's about health and performance, that's allowed right? ;)

Last Monday's walk/run, super happy cause I had just registered for Boston 2016.

You see, in embracing the "traditional" MAF Method to train for the M2B Marathon, that meant the majority of the time I ran I was running a sub 9 pace (usually sub 8:30 actually). That worked pretty well for marathon training and my goals, and I believe that's the case because my run volume was relatively low for marathon training standards. Then I had aspirations of moving to ultra, but not so fast--literally.

I scaled way back on running, but kept up with the "fit for life" routine and walking. Lots of walking. Dude, 2015 will be the year of discovering a love for walking. I walk whenever I get the chance--to the gym, to the store, and just for the hell of it. Read about that transition here first if you haven't.

Coincidentally, my friend, Dr. Tommy Wood, wrote a great piece on the benefits of walking including highlights of:

"walking increases your ability to handle oxidative damage. This makes is both an anti-inflammatory and antioxidant."

I swear, this has been the case for me, I can see & feel the benefits. Not to mention the side benefits of all of a sudden being able to get in a lot of miles per week, listen to and absorb some great educational podcasts (the kind that are too hard to soak in during tougher workouts), appreciate random beauty in life that you miss when you're driving... and run again!

As they say: Early to bed (in Vegas!), early to shred (Red Rock Canyon!).

New Game Plan for Volume
Anyway, it's been almost 12 weeks since I've taken a new approach, and so far so freaking good, including the many unforeseen side benefits. So here's my experience on how I made a safe, healthy progression to adding volume and going longer in a way that's sustainable and fun. Take note if you're looking to go longer and break into the ultra world.

Included:
1) It's not all about MAF (max aerobic) heart rate;
2) How "easier than MAF" is an extremely effective strategy to build endurance volume/fitness, be consistent and not break down;
3) The value of letting go of GPS watch obsession, pace, HR, needing a "perfect" workout for your log.

Warning: I have not tested this in an actual race yet; however, I do see that my body and mind are responding extremely well. At the end, it's about the individual's needs. So apply to your training as you see fit, if at all.

Riding high in Laguna Beach. That's Highway 133 below, one of three ways to get in and out of where I live. How many times I've driven/run/biked/walked that road? Countless. I prefer the high-up trails though.

Rest first
If you're at a crossroads and something isn't clicking with the current routine, and/or you feel off, there's a good chance you simply need to rest and/or change things up for a while; 2-6 weeks perhaps. This is what I did. Also like I did, you can still do little runs of 35 minutes or so, just 1-2x a week. Then any cross-training within reason is fine. On runs, totally let go of any pace goals, get out of your head, and shift the perspective in order to adhere to the purpose of resting and reseting the body... For me, I wore the Garmin but 100% ignored pace, and any run I did do was absolutely 2-3+ minutes slower than normal MAF pace. I was ok with that, which was weird but cool!

Wait for it... don't force it
After the downtime, things will happen without being forced. Have faith. For me, it was 4-6 weeks later of some major changes, and one day I set out to do my walk but instead I just felt like running. That happened a couple times--I had no agenda going into it, just listening to the body. Running--albeit slow running--was coming back naturally and felt refreshing and good. Then, several weeks later I was ready to take it up a notch and I had the urge to do some short 20-45" hill repeats. I've kept in those repeats 1x a week generally unless the body is tired.

Meanwhile, I still kept walking because I liked how that was building volume and making more time on my feet doable. Before I knew it I was getting 30-40 mile weeks of run/walk/hike.

Then a couple 50+ mile weeks (plus my crosstraining). Feeling great.

What's it all for?
I think in that July post you could probably sense I was a bit down on racing. It happens. I think I was in a funk. Exercise was fine, but I was over the idea of training for a bit. Then it came back. I didn't force it. My mind wanted it again--that new goal/race for which to strive. I think it's because I was so into this new style of training--more volume, slower miles and feeling proud of all my workouts whether they ended up being a 10-minute pace average or 20-minute pace average. This was novel, not caring about the average pace that would be seared on my TP log. And I think that's why I want to break into ultra--it's about the journey--whether that ends up being fast, slow or both.

Race mojo back. Let's do this.

Adding long workouts
You can let go of pace, but you can't let go of the long workouts--long sessions and eventually back-to-back days on the feet are the crux of ultra training. John's also in for a couple ultras next year, so we began planning some longer days in our schedules, which started in August (about 7 weeks ago from writing this). About twice a week we're doing 2.5- to 3.5-hour sessions that combine running and hiking/walking.

The backpacking is also very complementary to this, and I think backpacking was a crucial component of mentally adjusting to long days on two feet and going whatever pace is necessary. It's a different approach mentally speaking than the longs runs I was used to in triathlon/marathon training, which were still much more about a pace/HR goal.

With these new long workouts, it is not about "we need to run at X pace and X heart rate and do X intervals." Nooooooo! It is about "we're going for 3+ hours, here's the route. We will walk/hike as needed and run when it feels comfortable, and, hey, if we end up adding a little intensity or not it's all good." You go out with the intention to get the volume, not burn yourself and make it home holding a consistent effort. All the while, practicing hydration, and of course developing amazing fat-adaptation at these lower intensities!

And let's face it, very few people actually run (as in RUN) an entire ultra; yet, very few people (from what it seems like) actually practice enough walking in their training, which seems backwards to me.

Running Red Rock Canyon in Vegas. At any given moment the ability to cover 15-16 miles is a great feeling!

But what about MAF and a certain level of intensity to get faster/fitter?

An example of a trail that puts my HR over MAF
at a hiking pace. #steep

I won't lie, I haven't worried about holding MAF-specific HR this whole process, but meanwhile I can see and feel the effects of more fitness in my body. Since my goal is to go long, it's all about volume. Get in the volume--at any pace. I bet I'm mostly moving at a HR of 90-130--that's 20+ beats below my MAF! Granted, I know for certain I still get to my 150 MAF on the hilly trails around here, or the occasional "regular" runs. And sometimes even higher than MAF. But mostly it's slow, sub-MAF. Sustainable.

There is an undeniable inverse relationship between volume and intensity, and to get more volume (and have a sustainable, healthy program) you have to let go of intensity (MAF, while moderate, is still a measure of intensity).

Mantra for those looking to build volume: 

Move at paces and efforts that feel comfortable in order to get the distance and be consistent--don't let the HR monitor or GPS dictate what that is. 

Listen to your body, it will guide your appropriately.

However, one may argue if you're always going "slow" isn't that just a bunch of junk miles and not building fitness and endurance? I say, it depends. If volume if sufficient you're likely still building new fitness and ok. Also, it depends on the goals. This approach will likely not work for a 5k or 10k PR or an Olympic triathlon PR--eventually you need more intensity not just sh*tloads of volume. But if you're like me and goals are totally about building endurance and going longer, then this is your ticket to balancing health+performance.

In fact, I did try to build more volume all at MAF for a couple weeks initially and it was risky. I could and can tell that holding true MAF on all or most my workouts was going to cause me to crash and burn--it's simply too fast and too intense for the type of volume I'm looking for (I consider a sub-9 min mile MAF pace fast, that's me). And who knows, maybe in a few years when I'm more experienced it will be a different story and MAF will be doable with this volume. For now it's about tweaking one major stimulus at a time: volume.

I've said it before, I've never been a high-volume runner, ever! Even when I did the marathon this year, I had to be careful with volume in order to do well at the MAF and intensity I was trying to hold on key workouts. So this volume thing is still new territory for me. Volume being 40-50+ mile weeks all the time.

What, if any, "intensity" is allowed?
All that said, you don't want to plateau or get bored so how to appropriately and safely tweak the intensity (when the body gives the green light):

-Run at MAF but usually no more than 90min.
-Add a weighted pack of 10-20+lbs to the long days
-Short hill repeat/hill bounding workout
-Crosstraining: strength, kettlebells, cycling, swimming, SUP, etc. Note that all crosstraining doesn't have to be intense.

Crosstraining these days includes backpacking trips at places like Big Sur. I'm sure most runners out there will recognize this bridge, eh?! #bixbybridge

Mental side effects
The approach of getting in the volume regardless of pace was important shift for me, as someone who's always been so wrapped up in my pace, needing a certain pace, and holding on to a pace at the cost of sacrificing volume... none of that crap anymore. It's been freaking liberating in fact!

I used to be that anal endurance athlete who'd do anything to get the "perfect" Garmin file to upload. I'd stop my watch on stairs, or if I was forced to stop or walk for whatever reason I'd stop the watch so it wouldn't screw up my run file that I'd upload so I could have my "perfect" data in my "perfect" training log. Same with the bike. I'd even start new files so the "good" pace would have it's own file not to be slowed down by the warmup or cooldown. Ha.

Seen (and appreciated!) on my workout.

I know too many athletes who are just like this. So let me say, when you stop obsessing over the numbers a new world opens up--mostly you increase self-confidence and self-satisfaction in the work you're doing, not letting that get diminished if the "pace isn't good enough." There's a good chance you'll feel better training, be happier with YOU and what you're capable of doing with your body, you'll recover faster, be more consistent and not get deflated because of what the watch says. I often like to have my athletes ditch the data if they seem to be getting too number obsessed or down on themselves for unwarranted reasons.

Also in letting go of pace you're able to soak up more benefits of the workout like more enjoyment on your route, soaking in nature (I hope you get out on trails as much as I if you're looking for more volume!), appreciating little glimpses of beauty all around, enjoying the company of the person(s) I'm with, or really absorbing a podcast if I'm alone. Even listening to music is more fun because you'll feel your body jive with the rhythm of the song and a sense of oneness with the workout.

That said, I know many of us pursue this endurance sport stuff because we generally want to get better, get faster/stronger, increase fitness, etc. Seeing the results in the form of faster paces and more efficiency is helpful--but it's not everything. Not every workout will be faster/better, and if we keep striving for perfection we'll hate ourselves after a while. Enjoy the process more, worry less about outcomes. Learn from the process and thank your body for what it allows you to do. Don't whine over what you didn't or weren't able to do.

Maybe it's worth investing more energy into non-training time too to increase fitness--sleep, nutrition, stress management, and awesome post-workout recovery techniques:

I often finish my workouts here, at which point I literally run straight into the ocean to cool off, clothes and all. It's a great natural "ice" bath and immediately starts the recovery after workouts. Good for body and soul.
You may not have ocean access, but developing a peaceful post-workout routine is a good way to calm the nervous system and maintain consistency in training without breaking down.

Is it working?
I think you answer lies in your ability to sustain the mileage and build the mileage. Can you or not? I've been able to, and it's been over 10 weeks so it's not a fluke, I just keep feeling better actually. Granted, I'll finish workouts feeling tired at times, naps have happened, and I have certainly had rest periods woven in, but I find that I generally have awesome energy, I recover really fast, I'm engaged in the workouts, motivated and eager. I never dread a pending workout thinking, "ugh... gotta get on my shoes and out the door; this is gonna hurt." There's no whining--because even if I'm not my best that day I'll just hike or walk and not run, and I can still log 4-6 miles and that's a success. Being intuitive and smart. Before you know it you go for a 20-30mpw person to a 50+ mpw person.

Should you be testing to see if it's working? 
This is tricky perhaps and a level of faith is needed. My MAF test pace is not likely getting faster. I'll be quite honest in saying that. But it's about specificity of training! I'm not really training with a faster MAF pace as a goal. I'm sure if I did another MAF test right now it would be slower than this one. I simply have some volume fatigue in my legs, and maybe if I rested for a bit and did a MAF test I may see decent results. But I don't really care about that right now because I have a different "test" I'm using.

The key test/re-test is a combo of: 

1) building the long workout + 2) weekly volume consistency = can you hang in and keep that up?

All the while, it's important to still have benchmarks to ensure you're not digging into a rut of fatigue or literally going backwards. Most importantly: how do you feel? Then specific to workouts, here are a couple:

If I go out with the intention to run at MAF and it's an 8-10 min pace range, and that feels good not a slog or burning like it's 5k effort, then I still see this as a successful build of fitness and run endurance. And if that's at/near the end of a 30-40+ mile week, which has been the case, even better.

Other signs it's working...

1) Look to your crosstraining: are you thriving or surviving?
Few examples from me. This weekend I had a couple good eye-openers that my body is loving this style of training and it isn't all tense, out of whack, weak or imbalanced. Saturday I did a gnarly (heavy + relatively intense) strength training workout with a client and didn't even get the usual DOMS that I'd suspect from that kind of workout (included 6 X 5 DL @ 145# and 100 sledgehammer swings each arm). That night I danced away at a wedding... still no major DOMS crept up... Then Sunday, I went to bikram yoga for the first time in 4-6 weeks (sorta fell off consistent yoga for a bit) and literally I think I had one of my best sessions in life coming off a 40+ mile week. Focused and nailed the poses, no signs of being overly tight or tense, in fact waaaayyyyy loser than "triathlete tawnee."

2) Are you injured?
This is easy. Your body will breakdown if the stimulus is too much to handle or something, some variable, isn't ideal for you at the moment. It may need an increased focus on functional strength training and correctives, or an adjustment of volume/intensity or all of the above.

Personally, (knock on wood) I'm very injury-free right now and feeling very strong. I think the weighted hiking is helping a ton too to build joint integrity and whatnot. Plus, I'm telling you, I'm certain that too much/too high of intensity is at the root of most injuries out there. Eliminate that and you're in much safer territory.

So what's the schedule?
Set out your game plan and don't rush it. We've allowed 10 months to build toward our A race, and we were talking about the race a long time before that, remember in May when I said I was ultra inspired? I guess a couple "hiccups" along the way, but that notion held strong in the end... the ultra life has chosen me; I've chosen it. By the time we get to doing Badwater Salton Sea, it will be 10 months of specific training for that one event. It's like Ironman, especially for novices, give it a full year to build to it! Have a plan, and build a smart schedule in advance! And as much as I know that you can't expect training/race day to go perfectly as planned, we do have the plan laid out on how we will tackle our training and race execution, no half-assing/underestimating what this distance entails*.

Here's our 2016 outlook:

January - 50k or 50-miler
Feb - no race
March - Backpacking trip(s)
April - Ragnar SoCal (again!); the Boston Marathon
May - 'A' race: 81-mile Badwater Salton Sea
June - Get married
July - Backpacking honeymoon: 70+mile thru hike; crew at Badwater in Death Valley
August & Beyond - TBD

*Please note, it's not our goal to run as fast as we can in Salton Sea or our ultras. Our goals are to make the distance, make the cutoffs, experience new adventures, and figure out how to make this a sustainable lifestyle, not one that drills us into the ground with excess fatigue and problems.

Don't forget that it's about feeling good and doing what's best for you.

Backpacking Big Bear: PCT Section 8

This is a crusty selfie taken after finishing a hot 17-mile day on Section 8 of the Pacific Crest Trail (PCT)--yes, that trail that's bursting with popularity thanks to the "Wild Effect." If I look a bit beat up and concerned in this photo it's because I was.

Only 48 hours prior I felt like I was on my death bed after coming down with the stomach flu/food poisoning. However, I didn't want to miss out on the backpacking trip John and I planned because with our schedule these days it's not easy to find a few days where we both can get away. I'll spare most the details of the flu saga, but it was ugly. I am a dramatic sick person--I cry and whine; I "pass out" face down on bathroom floors. I simply hate being sick like that and, even more, I hate throwing up. Poor John, it was his first time ever seeing me in that condition. But thankfully he rallied rather than ran. And thankfully I made a rather fast recovery--the first 24hrs I was helpless victim to the bug, but after that I firmly believe having a positive attitude (and generally being healthy and strong) helped me bounce back even faster. Mind over matter. So, as planned, we hit the trail Sunday morning, expecting not to return for 2.5 days or so.

But actually, recovering from the flu is not the reason I'm concerned in that photo above.

Once I was alive after the flu, the only thing that I felt like eating
was oatmeal and fruit. I had it 2 or 3 times in a row haha.
This was breakfast before Day 1 backpacking; I
added the avocado for good fats and there's also eggs
scrambled in. Sweetened with blueberries.

Backpacking 17 miles on Day 1 wasn't necessarily the plan--it happened more out of necessity. We pushed the distance for one reason: water. And that's what had me concerned.

Water sources were all but impossible to come by where we were on this part of the PCT; it is a drought around here and deep into summer after all. That weekend was high 80s F and full sun. We had done out homework prior, so we weren't totally clueless/naive, and in our research and chats with local experts and rangers we were told a particular camp, Little Bear Springs, should have a creek and non-potable water source. The creek was not promising, but we were pretty sure the non-potable water pipe would be there from what we were told and what we read. Whether it was still working was another story, and a real gamble.


So we knew well the risks we were taking going in--mainly that we might be without a water source--and we devised safe exit plans accordingly. PCT Section 8 is 21.7 miles and up until a point, it is still fairly close to town so we agreed we would bail if it seemed too dire, or simply hike a short distance and set up camp early while water was still in abundance in our packs. With that in mind, we departed with open minds. We did actually pass water jugs left by trail angels within the initial miles, but at that point we were still fairly full and decided to leave those for folks who may actually need it.

Those jugs were the only water we would see for a long time. However, ironically, in the far distance we often had a view of a big ol' body of water, Big Bear Lake.

Big Bear Lake from the PCT.

I was probably still semi weak from the flu, maybe even a bit dehydrated going into Day 1, even if I didn't want to admit it (I can still be that stubborn athlete!), but more so I was enjoying the heck out of the hike so I refused to whine or give into weakness. I actually felt strong even if I wasn't 100 percent. Mind over matter. We kept going, and eventually the trail went from bordering the lake to turning inland, deep in the mountains, meaning farther from access roads and farther from town to the extent that "easily" bailing was no longer an option. We were in. But still no water sources. We had some on our backs and nothing dire. That morning, we set out each carrying a 3-liter camelback and 1 liter bottle. We were drinking well under 500ml an hour of hike time--but the hike was getting long. We thought about our options: setting up camp early with what we had, or go all the way to Little Bear Springs, trusting (hoping) the information we received was accurate and that we'd find water that we could filter. We decided to keep moving to the established camp rather than disperse camp. I told John I was ok and strong enough to do so. Obviously we had to drink more en route, and the camp ended up being 2 miles farther away than we expected based on our calculations and even the maps, making for a 17-mile hike in 6 hours, plus an extra 1:45 of breaks including for lunch so a 7:45 day in the hot, dry alpine forest. The hike was about 3k elevation gain, and about the same in descent. I'm guessing my pack weighed 20-30lbs. Not too bad considering hours prior the best I could manage was a slow crawl on all fours to the bathroom to puke. 

We made it to the camp--which was on a valley floor--around 5pm with less than 1 liter water remaining combined, absolutely no one around and no cell service. Upon arrival, it was easy to see the creek was bone dry; not too shocking. But then we couldn't find the other water source. It was too late and too far to hike back to town--not to mention we were tired from the 17 miles. We had to stay, water or not.

Home sweet home for the night.

Should we have stopped earlier? Should we have bailed? Who knows. At no point did I think this was a life or death situation, nor did John. Neither ha signs of heat illness, nor were we delirious or out of sorts. So, at worst, it would have been uncomfortable for a while having to ration 500ml water than night and the next day as we made our way back.

That said, in the moment, I wasn't that thrilled with the situation. I was resting at our campsite while John was searching for the non-potable water source. While sitting there in the quiet forest watching the sun slowly move toward the horizon, I felt a very real wave of fear and concern come over me. I was honestly a bit scared that we'd be waterless. I knew we wouldn't die. But we very well could suffer. Then it dawned on me that we packed in beer and wine. I got mad thinking that we had also packed booze but not more water?! Stupid! At the same time, I couldn't help but laugh thinking, "thank goodness we at least have booze to drink, even if it is dehydrating." Silver lining right? I don't even drink beer anymore but I was willing to.

Then as luck would have it, John rushed over with great news. Off in the distance--it was a rather large camp site covering a lot of ground--he found the non-potable water pipe. It was near an old horse corral, meant for livestock and horses. And it still worked. We had missed seeing it due to the direction we entered camp. But it didn't matter at that point. We were saved. John busted out the Platypus water filter and the water came flowing. Crisis averted.

And, that was Day 1. Lessons learned.

Having adequate water on the trail and planning smart especially in summer is crucial. You just never know. In fact, just recently there was a tragic story out of New Mexico when a French family got lost on a hike, ran out of water and the parents died of heat-related illnesses; their 9-year-old son survived.

~~~

So how was the rest of our trip?

Well given the water situation, we didn't want to take more risks by heading deeper into unfamiliar trail and farther from our starting point--that would be stupid. Our car was parked way back--17 miles!--and originally we had two ideas on getting back: 1) we'd find a truck trail that connected the PCT to the main highway and whenever we were done we'd hike down and hitch hike or cab it back; or 2) just do an out and back.

The reward of hard work is waking up to this. Sunrise solitude.

After a leisurely morning, we opted to backtrack on the PCT until we hit a truck trail to make our exit. We didn't do the full 17 though, I was a bit too wiped for that again and especially because the first 5 miles out of Little Bear Springs were completely uphill out of the valley back to the mountain crest. I wanted to feel good and still enjoy the trip, not continue to beat my body down and feel worse. Before leaving, we made sure to fully load up with fresh filtered water of course.

That glorious water.

As we got closer to town we detoured down the designated truck trail to the highway and hitch hiked to the car. Day 2 still ended up being 9-10 miles total of backpacking--shorter but definitely a good tough hike, and thankfully with more than enough water.

We didn't want it to end there, so revised the plan on the fly. Man, I love this. Having the car, having money and having access to town, we went to the store to grab more water, coconut water (!) and fresh food for bigger dinner than what the contents of our bear canister could offer. Then, we opted for disperse camping, which is totally allowed in Big Bear. Disperse camping is basically setting up camp nearly wherever you want out there and what "roughing it" entails--no bathrooms, no nothing--unlike established campsites that have amenities and you need reservations, blah blah. We still wanted total solitude though. So we took the Outback back up a truck trail several miles, parked, did a short hike in and found a nice little site to camp off the PCT and away from the main road. All to us. This was us lounging that evening on our "chairs" aka sleeping pads.

Day 2 camp. Using sleeping pads as "chairs." Oh, and coffee snobs we are: John grabbed the French Press, grinder and beans from the car so we'd have fresh cold brew in the morning! Ha!

For a second I thought it was "soft" for us to do all this. Were we really deviating from the plan and being "weak" for going to get the car and not stick to true backpacking for 2.5 days? But then I thought about it. And I couldn't be happier about this move. Dude, I had just gotten over an illness that felt like death. Without much recovery, I rallied and was able to backpack about 27 miles in the next 1.5 days through some crazy mountains and conditions. And John was hanging in like a champ too, making sure we were safe--mostly that I was safe. Putting it in those terms: We had already won! So screw it! If we wanted to get the car (and go to the grocery store) to have that extra comfort and peace of mind, so be it. In fact, I think that second night of camping was one of the best nights ever with John--we were off the grid, immersed in nature and feeling pretty darn good. We had a great meal, we had beer and wine (ha!), and we were just able to relax, enjoy each other's company, share stories, listen to the sounds of nature, and not be distracted by the world. We stayed up "late" to watch the stars as we love to do. (For the record, late on the trail is anything past 9 pm lol.)


The next day we hit the road home. It was a short trip, but enough memories to last a lifetime.

I'm curious to hear from other backpackers/hikers/campers on this spin of events we endured. Have you been caught in similar situations? I felt like we did all the research and homework possible before hitting the trail, but you just never know right?! In my other trips this year we've planned routes where water is guaranteed along the trail, in the form of a creek, river or lake. This was the case in Big Sur and the High Sierra Trail for example. I really enjoy knowing water will be there, not only for drinking purposes but simply for having the sounds of a creek nearby or a cool place to relax, soak and wash up after a hard day's work. In contrast, Big Bear and the deserty conditions were much more harsh, but oddly just as satisfying in their own way.

Oh, and one more note. Speaking of hot, deserty, dry, waterless conditions: A fire recently broke out in Big Bear--just one week after we did our PCT adventure. Now, that really got my mind spinning. No water for a night or so is one thing, but what if we had to face a wildfire while out there on the trail? I can't even imagine.... in the meantime, I'm praying that the Summit Fire doesn't do too much damage out there. Last I saw it's 50 percent contained. I hate when these fires destroy such beauty:

~~~

Cool terrain out there; it changes a lot even in less than 20 miles.

Happy campers!

Can you spot the trail? #PCT

I love breakfast and studying maps when camping! I make a really hearty paleo cereal for brekkie, and at some point I'll share my backpacking food and meal plan. I have it dialed in for the health-conscious fat-adapted folk. Personally, I do more carbs on the trail, but am still LCHF-ish and still all about clean-eating.

Views like these make it all worthwhile.

Top-10 Reasons I Love Backpacking

If you're reading along, you probably see a trend in how my approach to fitness, outdoor sport and endurance is evolving. I'm branching out, and I've fallen in love with a new kind of endurance adventure: backpacking. I give 100 percent credit to my sister for introducing me to this wonderful activity when she invited me on a trip back in March. It's really been life-changing and such a good complement to competing. Backpacking is not an attempt to replace what racing offers, but rather enhance my life experience with new kinds of adventures that test the mind and body in a different way. I'm sure some of you may be thinking (because I did too), "What could be so great and life-changing about backpacking? Sounds dirty and like a lot of work." Well let me tell you from my POV, it's not just another workout to burn calories, and it's not just about bumming it. It's so much deeper. I've attempted to summarize in this top-10 countdown. If you've backpacked and/or still do, I'd love to hear your thoughts on it!

Thanks to my sister, Karlee, for bringing backpacking to the forefront. This was our first trip that ended with a plunge in some darn cold water, and, man, was it refreshing in more than one way.

~~~

Top-10 Reasons I Love Backpacking

10) A fresh perspective on performance. There's a time and place when I love geeking on data, variables and performance that comes along with training and racing. I'll be the first one to say I value structured workouts, meeting specific goals, and working with others on the same. But then there's a time and place to just throw all that our the door and be free with your fit-ness. With backpacking, that happens. There's no pressure to follow the "rules" of training, no pressure to hold a certain speed, HR or watts. There may be the goal of meeting a certain distance per day, and you may push yourself to execute it to your ability, but it's different. No one cares how fast or slow you are, nor should you. It's more important to soak up the experience rather than rush through it to be "fast." The finish line is simply having camp safely set up before the sun sets, and no one will be there to take your timing chip and post results. Now that said, I do enjoy having my Garmin and GPS to track my miles, data and stats but for totally different reasons and different vibes.


9) It's not comfortable. Backpacking presents new challenges and risks that I'm digging. You do not have the peace of mind that race organizers and volunteers are taking care of you--there's no one to point the way, or shorten the course if the weather's bad. No aid stations with a full buffet. No port-o-potties, no medical tents, no sag wagons to pick you up if you fall. There's no such thing as a DNF. You're diving into the unknown, paving your own path and totally responsible for your survival and well-being. Like triathlon, mistakes happen along the way and you have to manage yourself and the situation. And you have to work for everything little thing or it's not happening. But unlike a race, it doesn't end after you've done your miles for the day--you keep working. Granted, backpacking technology and supplies are pretty advanced, and that makes it nice with some added comforts. But even with all the cool gear you can get at REI, when you're out there you still get a taste of truly roughing it.

Dirty and even some kind of heat rash after a long day.

8) Get gritty and don't give a shit. Days on a trail without a mirror and without a shower? Yes please. Makeup? What's that. There's no worry about getting dirty, brushing my hair, nor how I look. I'll look how I'll look. If you are with me, you'll appreciate me for the company not how "pretty" I look on the trail. That brings a new level of confidence--try it. Once you remove yourself from our modern culture, and even mirrors, you start to realize how strong of an effect these things can have on our brain and how we feel about ourselves. Even if you're a confident person, which I think I am, there's always going to be an ad, billboard, commercial or someone's hot-body selife sending the message on how you can be better, prettier, hotter, leaner, buffer, sexier, faster, smarter. You can't help but start over-analyzing yourself in comparison and dwelling on your "problem" areas. It's really a shame that a lot of us get wrapped up into comparisons to the point of losing confidence. I think I'm pretty capable of ignoring that noise and being true to me, but even I was surprised how social pressures to look and be a certain way can seep into my psyche. And it took stepping away, into nature, to realize it. So why not just turn off the noise and get back to being natural in nature, the ultimate for improving one's self-esteem. In fact, studies show that going into the forest--even a short walk--helps prevent and/or reduce depressed feelings and negative thoughts about one's self.

Great Western Divide.

7) Exploration. As I mature and am more comfortable with my career and life situation, I see myself starting to crave more travel and exploration, and I usually prefer nature over cities, so backpacking is a beautiful fit. It's funny, though, because I didn't have this mindset as much in my 20s--I would often make excuses as to why I couldn't take off on a trip or adventure. I suppose I was too wrapped up in establishing "my foundation" and also being all-in for triathlon. I think it's a bit like Maslow's Hierarchy of Needs--you meet the basic needs and goals then move on to the deeper things that create a well-rounded and fulfilled existence. Perhaps I'm moving up my unique pyramid. Or maybe I've just gotten out of my head of being Type A workaholic. Whatever it is, I'll take it because the things I've encountered, seen and experienced so far with backpacking have enriched my soul. It's a beautiful world out there, and I for one don't want to let life pass by and miss out on these opportunities to explore.

6) Spirituality. I'll admit, I'm not religious, but I do consider myself a spiritual person. Don't ask me to define spirituality, that's a tough one and it's so individual. For me, when I think of spirituality I think of being in nature. It's the No. 1 place where I feel most spiritual, and it's been that way ever since I can remember. As a kid, I can recall memories of feeling something special when I would be surfing or mountain biking or hiking, as if I was connected to a force bigger than just me and was touched in a deep way. Into my triathlon days, early-morning solo trail runs would often elicit the same vibes. Now, with backpacking, I get those same strong spiritual vibes when I'm out there, and I just soak it up.

5) Back to the basics. Everything I need is on my back and nothing more. If a questionable item that I'm debating bringing is heavy, bulky and awkward it's not coming--even if it may make life "easier" out there. With that, you're left with simple tools and gear, and needing to use a lot of your own smarts to get things done, as well as patience in the process. For example, on my first trip--a girl's trip fyi--I remember my sister and I spending time, effort and total focus to build a fire the old school way, open a can with an archaic tool and to find and prepare (filter) our water. Now, you experienced backpackers and campers may be used to this, but it was mostly all new to me and really opened my eyes to how much I take for granted in our modern world--and how fast we often move through our days not stopping to appreciate the simple tasks in life. Even using a real, physical map to navigate--and not Google maps nor 10 other phone apps--feels so good. I love taking the time and effort to do simple, basic things from setting up safe shelter to digging your own hole in the woods to... well... you know what I'm getting at (thank goodness I have a decent deep squat lol).

4) An improved relationship with food. This may sound weird, but I enjoy food in a different way when I'm backpacking, and I arguably enjoy it even more for what food entails and how it nourishes the journey. I consider myself pretty smart with food these days, but I've had my eyes opened to mistakes I still sometimes make at home with food. For example, rushing food, eating while distracted, eating more than is needed just because it's around or because it tastes good--but not because you actually need it. But when backpacking I'm fully present with food--whether a snack or meal--and if it's going in my mouth I'm focused on it.

Also, food as fuel takes on another meaning. I better appreciate the nourishing aspect of food, how it tastes, and taking the time to slowly enjoy each bite--you earned it! I'm also more in tune with how it feels to reach satiation. Obviously food supply is limited out there so you only eat what you need to, and you can't really afford to overdo it--as such, you really start to truly feel how much or how little the body needs and portion wisely. I'm trying to apply these principles back at home in regular life, especially trying to eat slower and less distracted.

... and my top 3... drumroll ....

3) Get off the grid*. Ahhh. Let's talk about this. As much as I love being connected with others around the world on a daily basis, and as much as I love coaching and podcasting and yapping, I equally love getting off the grid and quieting down. It's all too easy this day in age to be too plugged in to everything all the time and that creates a mind that's cluttered, lacking focus and often stressed and overwhelmed. Going off the grid and back to simplicity is the perfect cure--and it's cheap too, way cheaper than therapy. Interestingly, shutting myself off the world and having no cell service is not something I would have desired even a few years back, for reasons like FOMO, and to this day FOMO--in a serious sense--is sometimes a real concern, but I certainly have evolved and understand the importance of disconnecting and taking extended breaks. It's no stretch to say that taking these breaks certainly makes me better at what I do for a living. At first I would think the breaks showed weakness and that I wasn't working hard enough, or my clients would think I'm lazy and not paying attention in enough detail. But that couldn't be further from the truth. Going off-the-grid re-energizes me so that I'm more focused, engaged and productive upon return (and happier too vs. being a zombie who's always nailed to the office). There's research to prove I'm not crazy for saying this; less really is more, and it's time we stop trying to work hard 24/7 thinking that's the only way to reach success.

2) Be present. As I begin my journey in studying and practicing more mindfulness and meditation I've really started exploring my ability to be present--and how easily I can fail at being present in everyday life. Like I said above in No. 3, it's all too easy to get incredibly distracted, and even though I know I don't have ADD it sometimes feels like it with how conveniently we're connected to a million things with constant notifications of new emails, texts and tweets or whatever it is. I'm actually working on a separate set of posts on a related topic--getting over my multitasking habits and letting go of busyness as a goal, both of which completely take away from the ability to be present. But I digress (see? lol). Bottom line: Backpacking keeps me in the moment, focused and engaged. It just does.

1) Feel strong, alive and empowered. That's exactly what my mind and body need these days. Backpacking is one way I can carry out the idea of being fit for life as I've talked about, and it's also the easiest way to get back to primal living. It complements the style of fitness and "training" I enjoy these days--functional and badass. There's just something about being free in the wilderness and putting to use raw physical and mental strength and endurance. I've worked hard to build a tough body and mind over the years, and I want to continue doing so. It's funny, and I'll admit, my first couple trips involved a pathetic amount of over-packing and our packs were heeeavy, like 50lbs or maybe more. Carrying those bad boys 20-30+ miles was not easy feat, especially when the terrain would get dicey, but I loved every bit of the challenge and feeling my body perform under a load like that. I think I can certainly revise my packing list because I don't think it's a contest about having the heaviest pack, but the idea of it is empowering. It makes you feel truly alive and strong--super durable, adaptable and utilizing dynamic strength. Oh, and this can't be replicated in the city and modern life--that's not the right setting to get the primal essence.

~~~

*I have a question for you. Do you enjoy and embrace being off the grid? I know this concept may not be for everyone, but maybe it's because you haven't given it a chance. What do you think when you imagine multiple days of no people, no traffic, no electronics, no phones, no email, no social media, no "typical" interactions with the modern world? Does that give you the heebie jeebies or does it sound exciting. If it terrifies you, why not try it out? You may be surprised at how refreshing it is. In fact, assuming a lot of you reading are endurance athletes/triathletes, I think you are more likely the type who would embrace being off the grid and alone--considering endurance sport entails a lot of that. In fact, I think I originally fell in love with triathlon for similar reasons as I have backpacking--as much as there's a strong community and plenty of people with whom to interact in sport, triathlon is also about solitude and being alone in your head with the goal of continuing to move forward. Food for thought....

Big Sur, Salmon Creek Trail