find your tempo

I wasn’t born a runner. Honestly, I was born a fat kid with no athletic ability whatsoever. My middle school soccer coach even gave me the nickname Jiggles — apt and funny in retrospect.

Then one summer in high school, I started running. Nothing crazy. Just a few miles a day. The fat fell off, but more importantly, the agitation did too. I had spent years feeling like I was holding myself back — like there was more within me that I could access. Running unlocked it. I started approaching sports - and life - with an enthusiam I hadn’t felt before.

But like a lot of people, I got distracted. College, jobs, the whole “figure out your life” thing — it all piled up. Suddenly, everything was about school, deadlines, résumés, careers. Running slowly drifted out of the picture. I wasn’t choosing to stop — I just kept telling myself I was too busy. Too many late nights, too much stress, not enough time.

It’s ironic, really. I’d studied public health — epidemiology, specifically - because I wanted to help people live healthier, fuller lives. But somewhere along the way, I stopped prioritizing my own. I was chasing degrees, jobs and paychecks, but I wasn’t paying attention to what actually made me feel good. My body was stiff. My mind was cloudy. I felt disconnected from myself, from the outdoors, from everything that used to make me feel alive.

Then, in 2021, my partner got a job in Alaska, and I ended up there too — working remotely, surrounded by way more trees than people. It wasn’t some dramatic life shift. I just suddenly had trails right outside my door.

I started running them mostly because… well, what else was I gonna do? I had two dogs who needed exercise and a lot of daylight to burn. Some runs were mellow, others were spiced up by the occasional moose that reminded me to stay on my toes.

But honestly, it wasn’t just about the scenery or wildlife. It was about how running out there forced me to pay attention. No screens, no distractions — just me, the dogs, and whatever was lurking in the woods. It snapped me out of my head in a way I hadn’t felt in a long time.

Before long, I started leaning into it. The runs got longer. I felt better — more awake, more steady. Eventually, I signed up for the Anchorage marathon. I figured, why not? I’d been putting in the miles anyway, and it seemed like a fun way to see if I could actually do it.

Turns out, I could. It wasn’t fast. It wasn’t pretty. But I crossed the finish line and immediately thought, Yeah, I wanna do that again. A couple months later, I ran a trail marathon up at Hatcher Pass - a race where you spend as much time hiking up steep climbs as you do actually running. And honestly, I loved it.

Somewhere along the way, it stopped being just about exercise. Running became this way of plugging into the places I lived. I live in Oregon now — not quite Alaska, but it’s full of trails and people who love running them. I’ve found a rhythm here. My body feels healthier. My head feels clearer. I just feel more like myself these days.

And that’s really what led to Trail Tempo Running Company. For me, trail running has been a reset button. A way to step out of the constant noise and into something that actually feels real. No emails, no notifications, no pressure to be anyone or prove anything. Just moving forward.

The trails don’t care what job you have, what gear you wear, or how fast you’re going. They’re pretty simple: keep going, or turn around and head home. That’s it. And I’ve found a lot of peace in that simplicity.

I am certainly no elite athlete. I still suck at most sports. I’m just a former fat kid with no formal training who somehow stumbled into running marathons and ultras. If I can do it, I really do think anyone can. That’s the whole point of this thing — helping more people find their own tempo. Your natural rhythm, your pace, your way of running that feels good in your body and clears out your mental clutter.

In this blog, I’ll be sharing what I’ve learned — some personal stories, some science (without the esoteric academic jargon), and a little bit of everything in between. My goal is to make it all easy to understand and maybe even entertaining — because running doesn’t have to be serious to be meaningful.

So if you’re feeling stuck, burnt out, anxious, or like you’re playing a game you never signed up for — come run with us. Come move your body and clear your head.

Find your trail tempo.