Hills For Thrills Ethos

My Story

Growing up in rural southwest Colorado (AKA a tiny town called Cortez that you've never heard of), I spent a lot of time outside hiking, camping, and horseback riding. One of my fondest memories from my formative years is from trekking through the San Juan mountains on a backpacking trip with my dad. I was climbing up to a pristine, alpine lake with a way-too-heavy pack, struggling to keep my balance on the loose talus. Placing one foot in front of the other, I climbed and climbed. Before I knew it, I was passing the two men in front of us, leaving my dad far behind. In that moment, all I could focus on was the act of ascent. The sound of my ragged breathing, the burn in my quads, the silenced mind: how powerful I felt. 

I started running formally in middle school. I was an awkward, gangly, somewhat socially inept kid--definitely not cut out for team sports or anything that involved a ball. Running became my safe haven and connection to community, extending into my rebellious teen years.

In high school, I prided myself in running more and running further than anyone else. It wasn't until much later in life that I realized less is often more, so my early athletic performances suffered. 

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It wasn't until I intentionally chose to opt out of competitive athletics that I found my true love for running. I studied biology at Colorado State University and balanced my incredibly full course load with a part-time job in an ecology lab, but still found myself called to the trails around Horsetooth reservoir in Fort Collins. Although I only ran a couple days each week, running continued to be a comforting presence in my life that followed me through career changes, moves, relationships, and the tumultuous times in life.. 

In 2024, I entered my very first competitive trail races: Broken Arrow VK and 23K. I showed up to the startline with a side of imposter syndrome and little expectation. To my left and right, I recognized faces of women with running resumes of international acclaim. When the gun went off, the doubts and noise settled, giving way to my breathing and effort. In both races, I finished well-within the top ten as one of the only unsponsored athletes. While results never determine our worth, the validation one feels is undeniable. 

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I went on to have a string of stellar performances in 2024 including two course records--one of which led me to stand on a podium with Remi Bonnet (big fan-girl moment). By the end of the year, I was already crafting the perfect race calendar for 2025, but life has a funny way of surprising and humbling us.

On Friday the 13th of June 2025, I was running my final sharpener workout for Broken Arrow Skyrace when I felt an intense pain in between my shoulder blades. The pain persisted into the right side of my neck and face. My breathing became shallow, my vision blurred. Stubbornly, I kept pushing through the intervals, writing off the discomfort to dehydration. Eventually though, I couldn't ignore the pain or vision loss any longer. I sat down on the trail and tried to slow my breathing. I still couldn't seem to get enough oxygen. Fearful and unsure as to what was happening, I rose to my feet and started slowly walking down the mountain back to my vehicle. Several hours later, I arrived at the emergency room. Embarrassed, thinking perhaps it was an anxiety attack, I relayed my symptoms to the nurse on staff. They took an X-ray of my chest and revealed the culprit. My right lung had spontaneously collapsed. 

The months that followed were some of the darkest and transformative of my life so far. In all, I went through 3 lung collapses, 7 chest tube procedures, two flights for life, two thoracic surgeries, and a month's worth of hospitalizations. 

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It was in this time where I had to douse my competitive fire, re-establish my identity, and rebuild the foundation of my life. There was a time in this journey where I was sure I would never run again. I relinquished who I thought I was and immersed myself into watercolor painting, therapy, Buddhist meditation, and writing.

As painful as this era of life was for me, I wouldn't change a minute of it. 

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With time, I returned to running. Throughout the healing process, I continued coaching. To this day, I continue to deepen my appreciation for the vast range of human experiences available to us. 

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All of this informs my personal philosophy and love of sport. If I had to sum it all up in an elevator nutshell, endurance endeavors are excellent practice for the challenging times we all inevitably face. They teach us how to stay present and persist, how to let go when things are outside of our control, how to have patience with ourselves, how to celebrate success, and grow from failure. ​

Regardless of if you prefer uphills or downhills, we all must navigate the peaks and valleys of life, so let's appreciate the views along the way. ​​