Heroic Softness

I have done things that once felt impossible
and still, I sometimes wonder if it was nothing more than delusional self-belief.

The Three Peaks across England, Wales, and Scotland in 24 hours,
running for Parkinson’s UK, raising $20K along the way.

I climbed Mount Whitney in blackout conditions,
a 24-hour push via the Mountaineer’s Route.

In 2023, I moved through 93 miles of the Wonderland Trail
about 22,000 feet of gain and loss
fastpacking, trail running, surviving four days of motion and will.

Call me crazy, but that same week I ran Mount Baker with Adie Bracy and Ryan Montgomery.
I still remember my permit clipped to my Osprey
how it meant everything just to be there.

When Ryan arrived, we hugged.
He noticed the permit and asked about it.
He had run the Wonderland Trail in 24 hours,
and still, he looked at me and said I was a badass.

“Okay queen.”

I carried that forward.

I used what I learned about myself to run from Los Angeles to San Diego: 120 miles
lungs burning, stomach in knots, body arguing with every mile,
but something deeper refusing to stop.

And then, in 2024, I turned inward.
I became invisible.

Invisible not by choice, but by illness
Graves’ disease arriving that June,
followed by a thyroid storm, blood pressure 200/100,
a body on the edge of emergency.

From the outside, there was nothing to see.
From the inside, everything became measurement
labs, endocrinology visits, energy budgets, loss.

I watched my athletic self fade in real time.
Muscle shrinking no matter how much I ate.
Strength dissolving into numbers on a chart.

The frustration was constant,
but so was discipline
a quiet refusal to stop learning, adjusting, continuing.

There are days I know I am not destined for greatness in the way I once defined it.
Still, I am grateful for the chance to begin again,
to build differently
mind, body, intention.

I train now with patience.
Strength work.
Nutrition as structure:
enough food, enough carbs before endurance,
carbs, fiber, protein after strength sessions.
A recalibration of what it means to be an endurance athlete.

It is nuanced work, long work
and I am here for the long game.

I know I am not alone in this.
Over a million people are living with some version of Graves’.
Still, this has been one of the hardest battles of my life
and I am still in it, still learning, still becoming.

I choose invisibility not as absence, but as refuge
a place where identity no longer needs to perform.

This is not the end of strength.
It is a different kind.

I call this: Heroic Softness.

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Comments on Heroic Softness from readers:

You are a super-badass, but also the embodiment of heroic softness… I am thinking of all the people who will benefit from your openness and your art, including many who are walking different paths with different challenges but will feel seen and lifted up.

That reflection meant a great deal to me. More than anything, I hope the writing creates space for people to feel less alone, more understood, and perhaps a little more hopeful in their own journeys.

You make the world sing, in times when there is far too much mourning.

I’ve been carrying those words with me.

Song, thank you for sharing with me. You will forever be my trail angel. I hope you keep me in mind if you are gathering somewhere: on a trail, in a coffee shop, or on an adventure. You are one of my favorite people. Your shine arrives before I even see you.

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First 50k Sisterhood is honored to have support from:

• Microcosm Coaching’s training plan and ongoing coaching
• LOWA’s high quality footwear
• Kelly Fuson’s mindset and performance coaching
• Tailwind Nutrition fuel to power the miles
• Run Slick anti-chafe to run longer without pain
• Pen and Paces custom bibs to celebrate race day
• YourYuckies hygiene bags for backcountry comfort