Flying Through the Wind

This morning started quietly and gently—just after 5am, I got up, made myself a coffee in the stillness of the RV, and quietly got ready for another day on the road. A little after 6am, I stepped outside and was met with a gorgeous Wyoming sunrise. It was cool, but not nearly as cold as the past few mornings. The light was golden, the world calm, and I could already feel something good in the air.

I ran the short gravel stretch back to Highway 220 West. It was a peaceful Sunday morning, with only occasional cars passing by. But the wind—oh, the wind—was already alive, blowing steadily from the northwest. I had to put on a second headband to muffle the constant roar in my ears.

Despite the wind, I felt amazing. No pain, no fatigue—just rested, present, and grateful. The road started climbing early, and then dropped again around mile 10 as I approached Alcova. I passed through town and began a long ascent, this time into an even stronger headwind. At mile 16, I reached the top of the climb, where my crew met me with hydration and snacks. These little oases in the day have become such a gift—a pocket of calm where I can regroup, laugh, and feel supported.

I'm still running without my buggy, which gives my body a new rhythm and lets other muscle groups take over. I ran steadily until around mile 25, when the wind really kicked in again. I switched to walking for a while, focused on staying upright as the gusts swirled around me. At mile 29, another crew stop, and we decided to push for at least six more miles to a nearby historic monument.

Somewhere after that break, I found another gear. The wind didn’t stop, but I stopped fighting it. I just started playing with it—leaning in, letting it push me, letting my feet fly. I ran with joy. My body and mind felt light and aligned, and I found myself smiling through the miles.

At the monument, we stopped briefly for photos, but I still had energy, so we kept going. Just past mile 40, I saw my crew waiting near a trailhead at Martin’s Cove. That last stretch was breathtaking—first a small climb, and then a long, straight descent with the road stretching out forever, framed by distant mountains and sunlit skies. It felt like I was flying toward the horizon. What a way to finish the day.

At the van, I was welcomed with pears, oranges, salted pretzels, and a protein shake. Spoiled. Grateful. And absolutely thrilled about another extraordinary day of running. The mountains are drawing nearer now. I can feel it, and it’s exciting.

We’ve headed back to Alcova for the night—shower, dinner, a bit of work, some laughter, and crew time. It’s Mother’s Day, and I want to say thank you, Mami, for being here, for supporting me in ways big and small, for always being my rock. Happy Mother’s Day—you are the best.

Thanks for checking in, and for following along this journey. Let’s see what tomorrow brings. Onward.