Missing My Life’s Purpose

I’ve got to stop sitting in movie theaters after running.

So, you remember high school English? When they taught you about foreshadowing?


So that message came from K-Rob-D.

Sunday evening.

It’s the first time in my life I actually get to take part in winter break. And not work other jobs straight through it.

Spent Saturday doing absolutely nothing.


Like, literally nothing.

I laid my ass on my couch ALL damn day.

Read a lot.

Napped a lot.

Just me and my couch. All day long.

So I was ok taking Beautiful Beastie up on the idea of 10 miles before deathclick class.

Just a quick 10 road miles?


With these people, that’s nothing. They may as well have been suggesting a stroll in the park.

Except my body hasn’t done 10 road miles in…forever.

So the pain kicked in right from the start.

As did the subsequent whining.

My feet hurt.

My left knee.

My ankles? Why do my ankles hurt running on a smooth surface?

Yep. Now my Achilles are pissed.

Haven’t heard from them in a few months. So that’s nice.

How in fuck am I supposed to run 52.4 miles on this shit in April?

BB was the only one that had to listen to this initially. Because she forced me out at a stronger pace than I was emotionally prepared for.

But she, too, was unhappy about the road running. So I had her talked into just one five mile loop pretty quickly.

Then we can go hot tub before deathclick class! That’ll be better.

Except we finished that five mile loop and she said we should go check on K-Rob-D.

…fine. I mean, she’s grown. But fine.

Of course, K-Rob was a good half mile out. And starting on another loop…

So, anyway. I got tricked into the full ten road miles.


Once we got to deathclick class, Tiny Brazilian and K-Rob were talking about Monday’s running plan.

Just four miles.

“Ok. Sunshine is going, too.”

I might’ve tried to argue this after the bullshit road miles I’d just been tricked jnto, but I figured they couldn’t find anything too awful for four miles. Plus, TB is so cute, it’s hard to say no to anything she’s throwing at you with that accent.

So, fine.

Just four miles tomorrow. And I didn’t do shit yesterday. I should probably go pretty hard in deathclick class.

So I did.

I didn’t ignore BB even once when she directed us to more deathclicks.

So many fake mountains. We climbed sooooo many fake mountains.

My legs were fully depleted.

But we hot tubbed after. Which they liked.

And I gave them a hot shower and sweatpants and a couch and food and beer when I got home.

So we were getting along kind of ok. They were all like, well that was bullshit. But it’s cool that we did it. We like to be strong. We’re gonna spend the next couple of days rebuilding all this muscle. We’re gonna be so ready for Blue Ridge Double. You’ll see.

And then I got the text from K-Rob.

“You’re welcome.”


And then the text from Tiny Brazilian.


Son of a bitch.



“K-Rob will drive you.”

So this was important for two reasons.

First, that was the only way they had of ensuring I’d actually follow through. Because left to my own devices, I may have ended up at a Waffle House instead of North Mountain.

My car gets confused sometimes. 🤷🏻‍♀️

But also. I’m fairly certain Duck Dynasty knows my car. And it’s safest for everyone if they don’t know when I’m on that mountain.

That bullshit mountain.

You know, I’ve run that mountain on several poorly planned days.

That time Rogue and I ran it at noon in July with only 12 ounces of water after Twisted Trail 10k.

That time Tiny Brazilian and I ran it in the middle of a thunderstorm.

That time OT and I ran it with Newbie and the damn rattlesnakes.

That time with all the bear hunters…

But the absolute worst time to ever ever run that bullshit of a mountain is after you’ve given every ounce of everything to deathclick class.

I’d tried to talk GBFF…WHTBS into going.

“They won’t make me run if you go. They’ll be nice. And let me walk the whole thing.”

But he was all, no. I’ve gotta go make the world a better place, blah blah blah.

But what about my world???


So it was awful.

From the start.

I had to stop. On the first climb up. Like, right at the fucking start. And gather my thoughts. Try to find some strength.

I didn’t.

Find any strength.

My legs were like, what in the actual fuck do we think we’re doing???

And then we get to the top. Barely. And Tiny Brazilian wants to start running.


Fucking GBFF.

“Who’s idea was this???”

“I feel like Finn’s Dad is to blame somehow.”

Finn’s Dad is always to blame.

That’s why he has his own hashtag.

It makes sense if you’re friends with us on social media.

And every half mile, these bitches throw out, “look at that view, though!”

That’s not a fucking view! That’s what devastation and sadness look like. Hopelessness. Complete absence of joy.

And if the climb up was bad, the jog down Grouse was worse.

Because my legs were like, “what the fuck ever. We’re no longer invested in our safety. We can just trip and roll down this bitch. We. Don’t. Care.”

Spent the fire road hallucinating trucks behind us. Duck Dynasty trucks.

And then Deer.

Fucking Deer.

That bullshit ass climb up fucking Deer Trail.

In an effort to keep me moving, Tiny Brazilian had spent most of the first seven miles telling me I was pretty.

Which was absolutely not true.

But still kinda worked.

So halfway up Deer. When I’d pulled off my hat. And my sweaty hair was just kind of hanging off my head like a witch. And I couldn’t stand fully upright, so I was just hunched over like a caveman. And the life had gone out of my eyes. And I was cow-chewing a cookie with pieces just falling out of my open mouth. I told TB, tell me I’m pretty.

“You sooo pretty.”

I don’t know. I think it’s the accent. But it works.

Once we finally got to the top of Deer, I announced that I was finally invested. I was all in. I am 100% in for this run.

“With two miles to go…?”

Yep. Let’s do this.

But so there are rules with North Mountain.

Because these chicks thought they were doing me a favor. Being all covert and shit. To make sure I could at least even up with OT in the challenge.

But I am required to notify OT of any North Mountain plans. It’s part of our treaty. It is the very basis of our friendship right now.

And I need that friendship.

(My Christmas Crew and I may have gotten a little sappy via the messages last night. About how much we value and need each other. It was beautiful. And true. And kinda Hallmark-y. Without the romantic happy ending. And probably shouldn’t happen again for a bit. But it’s Christmas. So it’s ok.)

So I had done my due diligence and notified OT beforehand.

And then spent the entire 3 1/2 hours on the mountain anticipating a mountain call behind me.

It never happened.

Not gonna lie. It was a little disappointing.

You know how a dog will spend its whole life chasing its tail? And then one day it catches it? And has no fucking idea what to do with itself after that?

That’s where I am right now.

I mean, I begged North Mountain Overlord and Fast Feet Falls to update the spreadsheet. Quick. Before OT goes back out.

And they did.

And even put my name in front of his.

But then he never went out yesterday.

And I’m over here all like, I don’t know what to do with my hands…

So I made GBFF let me go with him last night to see Star Wars again. Because I needed GBFF time. But also needed to parse through that movie again. And distract myself from no longer having a life purpose.

Two and a half hours. In a movie theater seat. After North Fucking Mountain. On deathclick and road mile exhausted legs.

My body basically shut down by the fifth fight scene. (It’s hard to keep track of how many fight scenes there are in this episode.)

And so standing up to leave was a struggle.

Maybe I just live here now.

Except I’m pretty sure there was another showing after that and I needed some damn Star Wars debriefing time before sitting through it again. Because y’all won’t go see this shit and talk me through it.

Soooo much to talk through.

It’s fine.

I think I’ve gotten most of it out of my system now. Until I see it again. And find more shit to process through. Seriously. There’s just so much.

Ok. So. Here’s the deal.

I get to rest the remainder of the week.

Because someone planned, like, 25 mountain miles. On top of deathclick class. With zero hot tub time. For next Sunday.

So I’ve promised my legs.

Just easy adventures until then.

Calm, normal people things. Like gentle strolls. And meeting up for beers. And sitting in pajamas all day reading.

That’s it.

That is who I am for the rest of this week.

And the first person to say North Fucking Mountain to me this week is getting unfriended.

But also? Someone get OT back out there so I can find my life’s purpose again…

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