Fitting In the Big Runs

Plus, thoughts on preserving our craft and collective humanity

Welcome back, and welcome new subscribers. This week’s post shares running advice along with a life update and commentary. Thank you for being here.

Viewing Telluride’s box canyon and the melting high country during a run last week.

My head feels as if it might explode from trying to keep track of too many things. It’s my fault—I over-scheduled myself during a week shortened by travel, and I didn’t get done all I needed to do last week due to a combination of running and procrastination. (The more I care about something, the more I tend to procrastinate because I want to get it just right. Perfectionist procrastinators, I see you.) The running, however, complemented my work with unplugged time to think and gain perspective.

I travel early tomorrow to Ojai, California, for a trio of poignant celebrations: my son’s 25th birthday, my daughter’s engagement party, and my 40th high school reunion packed with gatherings and activities. So I really must get my shit together and pack a variety of outfits for running, horseback riding, cocktail hours, and looking like a mother of a bride (help?!) before bedtime.

Last week, I did manage to accomplish the training I need in advance of June 20’s San Juan Solstice 50. I set aside a half day for three days in a row for longer, steeper back-to-back runs on tired legs. (I also lifted weights and exercised our horses.) Thankfully, the ankle tendon flareup and heel pain that bothered me during and after the Quad Rock 50 faded away, and I feel back to normal and healthy.

Last week was better. (The low point at the end is due to the fact it’s early in this week. The high point in early May reflects the week with the 50-mile race, with taper and recovery on either side of it.)

My volume wasn’t all that impressive last week in terms of mileage, but the slow pace on steep terrain meant 15-plus hours and 15,000-plus feet of elevation gain on the trail in higher altitude. I need that adaptation for upcoming mountain ultras.

Three years ago, I wrote a post that showed how and when to build a big-volume, big-vert week into your training cycle; here it is, with a section on “the gift of a DIY training camp.” The evergreen training principles in it are guiding my buildup now.

One Way to Gain Big Vert & Volume In Training

The 50-miler in early May gave me a fitness boost, so I’m heading into summer cautiously optimistic and eager for the season’s races. However, I had an anxiety dream about the Hardrock Hundred two nights ago—one of those “can’t get there” nightmares where you can’t get going, can’t find your way, or can’t get something to work. The dream involved arriving to the start line after others had left and pawing through messy, overly stuffed drop bags.

No doubt the small but not impossible chance that I’ll get off the Hardrock waitlist prompted the dream. I didn’t think I had any chance of getting into Hardrock this year, but now it could happen since I’m number six on the “Female Finishers” list but three ahead of me haven’t turned in their service requirement forms, so they may drop off the list. So, who knows?

In any case, this is how my race calendar now looks:

• San Juan Solstice 50 June 20

• volunteering at a remote pack-in aid station at Hardrock July 10-11 (or possibly running it if the wait list moves significantly)

• Aspen Backcountry Marathon August 1 (a final long training run for the Softie)

• San Juan Softie 100 August 14-15 (which I’d skip if by chance I get into Hardrock)

• Imogene Pass Run 17-miler (a local classic, I haven’t run it since 2019)

• volunteering/pacing at The Mammoth 200 in the Eastern Sierra October 2 - 5

• Javelina Jundred 100-miler near Phoenix October 31

Brainstorming and writing all on my own, never with AI

Earlier this morning, I turned in a freelance article after struggling with it for days. (I’ll share the publication and link later, after I’m sure the story makes it into the world.) I’m trying to freelance more, while my in-limbo manuscript awaits judgment from a publisher, to strengthen my atrophied journalistic muscles and to “build my platform,” which involves getting known as an authority and personality on the topic that my book concerns (mainly, midlife and ultrarunning).

This assignment intimidated me because it’s for a major mainstream publication, and I’m new to the editor. I made the classic well-intentioned mistake of over-reporting it and then using only a small fraction of the material distilled for the 1500-word limit.

In spite of (or partly because of) the struggle, I loved the challenging process. I loved finding and interviewing original sources, figuring out the angle, deciding on the essential nuggets of info to include, mustering confidence to write in my conversational voice, and making every sentence—every word—work hard and matter. The ideas and phrases marinated in my mind as I ran. The story assignment engaged my brain like a big puzzle.

I wrote it entirely on my own (as I do with any piece of writing)—from the first email pitch to the editor, to the final revision—and the only online help came from standard Google searches and my dictionary/thesaurus.

I share this because last week, I consumed more of the snowballing news and analysis about how AI is changing (I’d say, hijacking) the business of publishing and the craft of writing. More nonfiction books written mostly with AI are coming to market. More writers are leaning heavily on AI to “brainstorm”—asking for help and feedback on their ideas—and to revise.

I despise everything about this AI takeover (except the scientific and medical advances that can save lives; for example, our fire department invested in an AI-powered smoke monitor, which quickly detected a lightning-caused fire in the woods two miles from our home earlier this season, sparking rapid response).

I cringe at all the cheesy AI-generated graphics increasingly illustrating articles and showing up in my feed. I’m tempted to compose a snarky reply to every email I receive that has a weirdly effusive and flattering tone, knowing someone couldn’t be bothered to write it themselves so they asked AI to craft the message.

People, we’re handing over our critical thinking skills and creativity to machines developed by bazillionaire bros who have little to no care about ethics. We’re taking shortcuts in the name of productivity as if speeding up the process and increasing the volume will make life better and solve our problems. (It won’t.) We’re normalizing plagiarism, recycling and repackaging others’ ideas and work, and gulping down spoon-fed facts without questioning where they came from and how they’re biased or plain wrong.

I took an online marketing workshop a couple of weeks ago with an expert publicist who represents authors, and she rubbed me the wrong way when she extolled the virtues of AI not only for organizing tasks (which I get can be helpful) but also for generating ideas and gaining feedback. Funny thing is, she just wrote this essay about detecting bias in AI and realizing that it was trying to change her opinion, prompting her to recall the scene in Kubrick's 2001: A Space Odyssey when the machine talks back, “I’m sorry, Dave, I’m afraid I can’t do that.” In other words, it dawned on her that AI is trying to shape opinion, and we could lose control to it. Yeah, no shit.

I recommend this NY Times Opinion piece (gift link) by an author and educator who wrote:

“Increasingly, many people I talk to—from students to teachers to peers—tell me that they think it’s OK to use AI chatbots for brainstorming as long as they do the ‘real work’ of writing. But this misunderstands something critical: Brainstorming is the work that’s fundamental to writing. As a researcher studying AI’s effects on education, I have concluded that these tools only superficially improve writing. The bigger and more alarming impact they have is to constrict our full range of thoughts and our ability to generate original and useful ideas—what we call creative thinking.”

In addition to that piece, I recommend this essay on “what publishing’s latest AI scandal reveals about the future of AI and authorship” by Brooke Warner, who has become my go-to expert analyzing the publishing landscape and AI’s effect on it.

So I’m holding the line as a traditional writer/journalist and celebrating original thinkers and authentic creators. With that in mind, I recommend the following.

The best, most original writing I recently read

Yesteryear by Carol Claire Burke: Yes, I’m on this much-hyped book’s bandwagon. The premise hooked me (a smart, jaded, and hypocritical trad-wife influencer experiences the harsh reality of the throwback 19th-century life she romanticizes and profits from through Instagram), and the character’s subversive and self-centered personality alternately made me admire and loathe her. The book left me pondering my lifelong obsession with Laura Ingalls Wilder, country-music lyrics, different takes on feminism and the patriarchy, the MAHA movement, and why the Murdoch’s in Montrose has all those racks of prairie dresses for sale.

Climbing Through by Melissa Strong: This new memoir by an Estes Park woman shares her experience as an accomplished sponsored climber who in 2017 suffered a horrific freak electrocution accident that burned and disfigured her hands. The detailed account of her reconstructive surgeries, followed by her struggle to open a restaurant that she invested in pre-accident and her determination to return to climbing, captivated me like a reality show. As a non-climber, I also appreciated the window into how people learn to climb and become so passionate about it.

A new Substack worth your time: My long-distance friend Erica Moore started a Substack to chronicle her life and projects this summer. She’s a force. Read her About page and first posts here:

Several new subscribers here came to me from Erica’s recommendation of my newsletter (thank you). If you’re here because you know Erica or want to get to know her, then you’ll probably enjoy this post I wrote about her three years ago:

Erica Goes For It

Asking for support to benefit youth in our community

I’m leading a community fundraiser, the Telluride Rotary Hikeathon, which raises money for the local Rotary club and other nonprofits. I came up with the idea last year to benefit the community at large and to motivate people to get outside and hike, and we had the second-annual kickoff last Sunday. Participants hike (or run) to meet a mileage goal during four weeks in June and ask friends for support to raise funds for the nonprofits.

Leading the Hikeathon kickoff last weekend.

I’m raising money both for Telluride Rotary—for their college scholarships, international youth exchange program, and community grants—and also for a regional organization whose board I’m now chairing, True North Youth Program. True North does an incredible job providing academic support, afterschool programs, and guidance for teens, most of whom live in the rural part of our region with limited financial support and fewer opportunities.

I’d sincerely appreciate if you’d donate to my campaign! You can donate at this link. Big thanks and shout-out to these newsletter subscribers who generously donated to my campaign already: Katie Debski, Mitch Gunderson, Melissa Hendershott, and Jim Ostrem.

Lastly…

This Saturday, June 6, is National Trails Day sponsored by the American Hiking Society. Learn about it and find a trail-stewardship event near you.

Thank you for reading this far! I encourage you to share your summer race plans and/or your thoughts on anything above in the comments.

Slow going to a summit last Saturday. Sometimes mountain “running” involves post-holing through snow at a snail’s pace.