The new year always comes with its slew of resolutions, intentions, goals and other optimistic planning for the coming cycle around the sun. With the clamor comes the loud chatter by those who despise the idea of the whole concept, alternatively espousing the idea that every day is an opportunity to begin anew, or that there is no need to give in to the capitalist aesthetic that is constantly bettering oneself.
This must be the place: Lace up the running shoes, head out the door and get after it
As of yesterday, Monday, Nov. 28, I’ve run 2,525 days in a row. I hadn’t checked in on “the streak” in a while, but was curious at where it stood after coming across a 2021 article for Outside magazine, titled “The Minds and Habits of Master Streakers.”
Marathon Training Scaries
I am standing in my warm, dimly lit living room clutching a hot mug, scowling at the frostbitten ground outside, blanketed with air that has yet to feel the sun's warmth, when my black cat pounces onto the rocking chair on the porch. She jolts me out of my reverie and I spill coffee on socks that don’t match. She balances precariously on the top rung of the chair as it rocks back and forth with the sudden momentum of her scrawny body. Yellow-green eyes find me through the glass and a pointed meow reminds me of what I should have already known — she is hungry and cold.
This must be the place: Life is a mystery to be lived, not a problem to be solved
Monday afternoon. Plattsburgh, New York. Grabbing a few things for my intended hike up near Tupper Lake, in the depths of the Adirondack Mountains, I walked out the door of my parents’ farmhouse just as my mother asked where I was going.
Rim to Rim to Rim
“Not your first, not your last, enjoy your now, now will go fast." — Alexi Pappas
This must be the place: It’s a Monday, it’s so mundane, what exciting things will happen today?
Just east of Hot Springs, I pulled off U.S. 70 and turned into the small, muddy parking lot. Emerging from the truck, I threw on the rest of my trail running gear. Heading northbound on the Appalachian Trail, the destination was the Rich Mountain Tower.
This must be the place: One hundred years from this day, will the people still feel this way
It was somewhere around the the second mile of my New Year’s Eve jog that I realized that day marked exactly five years since I began my running streak.
Freedom on foot: Cashiers man shares trail running passion through guide company
These days, Brendon Voelker’s life revolves around running, but eight years ago the Texas native was still struggling to complete his first mile.
He was overweight and out of shape back then, and while he could happily spend a day riding around on his road bike, running a mile was out of the question. But after a weight loss journey that left him 80 pounds lighter, Voelker made it a personal goal to get that first mile under his belt. By the end of 2013, he’d completed a nonstop 5K for the first time, and the distances ballooned from there.
This must be the place: It was the work of the quiet mountains, this torrent of purity at my feet
Walking out of my apartment this past Tuesday, the morning sun illuminated the mud plastered all over the side of my ole Toyota Tacoma. It was time to edit and put out the newspaper, but the only thing I could think about was when I could once again escape into the wildness.
This must be the place: Roads that we abandon and others that we take
When I lace up my running shoes lately, I’ve found that I usually need to add a windbreaker on top of my normal running attire. It’s that time of year again, my favorite spot on the calendar. The air is colder, the leaves have fallen, and yet the sun’s rays still warm the face — that calm before the storm of holidays and family obligations.