“How long do you think you will be out there?” my husband asked me the morning of the race. As I talked to him on the phone, a flurry of a...

With my Nathan handheld filled with water and having taken two salt pills, I headed down the now familiar bike path at Englewood MetroPark. ...

There's no hill named for me. There's no stretch of trail where my legs move to an unwritten rhythm sacred to that space. There'...

At the beginning of the year, when the calm of ocean apathy becomes full of waves of possibility ... when the will to change laps up on the ...

I measure my life in a minute. 60 seconds. It's the time it takes for me to warm up the day-old coffee dregs in the carafe in the micr...