Nine years ago, I heard you stop breathing.
Nine Years Ago
Mothers Bear Us
Mothers bear us, and the brunt of the world.
Post-50k
After a weekend like last, I hesitate to wash out the smell of campfire. It mingles with dirt smudges, smidgens of blood, bits of pine needles, salty sweat deposits, tufts of moss, and big drops of Oregon rain. In between trees in the Tillamook State Forest, we ran, crewed, cowbelled, and fire-gazed, out of cell …
Backcountry Rise
Elizabeth W. Carey 