"Stop using diversity as a selling point if you're not investing in the communities." — Nadah Feteih, Founder of Ma'wa Collective

It’s probably my favorite quote from any panelist at Outdoor Retailer 2026.

Nadah is the founder of Ma’wa Collective, an adventure company for Muslim women. It’s been incredible to see her community grow over the years, and I finally got to say hi IRL at the show a couple weeks ago!

As I shared last week, the big question I brought to my first ever OR was: How can outdoor industry leaders work together in creative ways to bring more communities into nature? Thankfully, there was a lot of conversation about just that (while many of us in the industry acknowledge we have a ways to go).

There’s a difference between belonging and fitting in.

Fitting in is when you change yourself to blend into a group. Your body, your pace, your gear, your voice, your vocabulary. Shrinking the parts of you that stand out.

Belonging is being welcomed as you arrive. You don’t have to change, shrink, hide, or adjust yourself to feel at home in a group or environment.

I want the outdoor industry to start shifting their systems, gear, and marketing to foster true belonging, rather than making it easier for people to “fit in” to what already exists.

Too many groups face barriers to belonging, but this week I want to focus on 3 that were specifically on my mind at OR: women over 50, people in bigger bodies, and novices.

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The outdoor industry needs to stop ignoring…

🏔️ Women who are 50+

Browse the catalogs, the campaign photography, the website hero images, a brand’s own Instagram grid. Women are there, sometimes in abundance, right up until roughly age… 45ish? Then they vanish (not from the trails, obvi, but from the branding).

There was a lot of talk about Gen Z consumers at OR this year. But at the end of a panel discussing younger buyers, my hand shot up — what insights do we have on “older” buyers, and why do we never talk about that? When I turn, like, 45, will I stop seeing myself in any outdoor media?

Forget about the fact that not putting women 50+ in media is just wrong and exclusionary. It’s also bad business. Older women tend to have more discretionary spending than younger ones. They have bigger networks and more time to spend.

I co-guide Grand Canyon Rim to Rim hikes through The Cairn Project, and we decided to hold this October’s trip for women 50+. Guess which trip was the quickest to fill and whose fundraising finished the fastest? These 50+ women who are rocking it outdoors.

Maaany thoughts are swirling in my head about this one, so I’ll write a longer post in the future after I do some more research and chatting with these women. For now, start to notice the lack of effort outdoor brands put into reaching this amazing market segment.

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🥾 People in Bigger Bodies

One of the best conversations of the week was facilitated by Leander Lacy. 8 of us sat around a table to have an open discussion about bigger bodies and inclusion outdoors. (For context, my body is widely accepted in the world + industry, so what I share here may not be my own lived experience but those of the people who kindly shared them with me and the others.)

Some of the folks at the table were creators who were invited and credentialed by OR to be there. And yet, some skipped morning activations because they had no way of knowing whether it’d work for their bodies — specifically, the morning canoeing session. They wanted to paddle, but they didn’t want to become the story of the person who didn’t fit in the boat.

And before you say c’mon Angie, of course they’d fit in the canoe — yes, for sure, but without signage or marketing materials explaining size or weight limits, how would they know that? Can you imagine how hard it’d be to have to show up and ask if your body was allowed in?

(And on the business case: That’s a brand losing an advocate or customer at the door without even realizing it.)

Someone suggested the way that roller coasters put a tester seat in the line. You sit in it, you find out if the restraint closes, and you walk away privately if it doesn’t, no attendant tugging at a harness while a hundred people watch. A metaphorical tester roller coaster seat can lower stress and increase engagement from people in bigger bodies (or really, anyone).

We also talked about the false reassurance people too often hear from gear reps: “Oh, of course it’ll fit, you’re not even that big, and it’s universal sizing!” Then they try to put on the gear, and it doesn’t fit. Of course that would deter many people from trying on other gear in the future.

Another sub-topic was language. One person chimed in that “no drop” is triggering to them in a run club, since they’ve been told a group was no drop, just to then get dropped. Another runner replied “what’s no drop mean?” which led to the conclusion that “all speeds welcome” is better phrasing (so long as it’s true). “Universal” or “one size fits all” was another term for the trash can. Nothing is one size fits all, and saying it just tells the people who’ve been failed by sizing that you haven’t thought about them. Same goes for “extended sizes” from a brand that stops at 2X.

I asked what my trail race company could do to ensure we’re welcoming bigger runners as soon as they discover us. Photos of past events was a big one. Visual proof does more than any inclusion statement we could write.

According to the NIH, ~74% of American adults are classified as overweight or obese according to standard health metrics (not that I approve of said metrics, but this is the data). When specifically looking at clothing sizes, about 54-67% of American women wear a size 14 or above, which is the standard retail definition of plus-size. So HELLO! If you’re an outdoor brand, wouldn’t you want to make sure you’re truly considering all these consumers?

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🌻 Novice outdoor enthusiasts

The shared vocabulary of OR as the industry describes outdoor product users:

first timer → beginner → novice → casual → core

Mandela Echefu made the case on stage that novices are the growth market and brands should focus on them more.

A novice has done the activity a handful of times. What she’s missing is confidence, skills, habits, and identity (just one of those four is something a lesson can really fix).

Most of this industry designs, markets, and sells to core users, who are a fraction of the market and who already own everything and have big opinions about their gear. Meanwhile the group with fewer than ten years of experience in their sport is enormous, and it’s the group that replaces the core users who are aging out.

A business case for brands to give extra attention to novices is that they haven’t bought everything yet. Which gives you three massive opportunities:

1. Novices need ecosystems, not products. A tent doesn’t make somebody a camper. A group that camps monthly does. What ecosystem can you build for novices?

2. Whoever teaches a novice becomes their default resource. (See last week’s post for more on that.)

3. Move someone from “I’m trying to mountain bike” to “I am mountain biking” to “I’m a mountain biker.” Identity is what makes a customer stick around for thirty years instead of one season.

A quick note I learned about “casual” users (the step above novice): Somebody who backpacks twice a summer and has zero interest in doing more is not a project you failed to convert. She’s a customer with money who’ll buy quality gear for six weekends a year, forever, if you stop implying her version doesn’t count. Too often we try to move casual users straight to core, and lose them entirely.

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✨ Put your values where your mouth and wallet are

Mirna “The Mirnavator” Valerio sang a jaw-dropping opera rendition of “Summertime” to kick off our week, and then asked the room how our values fit into our outdoor work.

We — as outdoor enthusiasts AND as brands — say we care about freedom, inclusion, health, community, empowerment.

And sometimes, that manifests. Sometimes, that shows in marketing but not in practice. And other times, it’s a total misalignment.

Which brings me back to where I started. Don’t sell diversity if you’re not actively investing into the communities you’re putting in your brand photography.

Gen Z has the most sensitive bullshit meter of any group this industry has tried to sell to, and they aren’t reading your values statement. They’re checking whether your actions match it, and they’ll find out faster than your marketing team can respond. Meanwhile Zara and H&M are both eyeing the outdoor space, and if we won’t build for women over 50, for bigger bodies, for novices, fast fashion will. Badly. And it’ll take the customers anyway as the planet suffers.

Inclusion stopped being a choice between doing the right thing and protecting the business a while ago.

Let’s stop focusing on fitting in. Let’s start to foster belonging by being the outdoor leaders we so often claim to be.

Brands! Wanna chat more about this topic? Schedule a call for when I’m back adventuring in Italy!

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Last week on BLOOD, SWEAT + FEAR: 4 Ways Outdoor Brands Should Think About Partnerships 🌲

How to work together

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Wondering how you got here? Hi, I’m Angie Lake! 👋 I’m a creative consultant and not-elite-just-enthusiastic athlete living in the mountains and rivers of Washington. I talk about the tough stuff — Blood, Sweat, and Fear — with the goal of building a happier, healthier world for women. You can check out all the ways to work with me here, or follow me on Instagram and LinkedIn.

(Quick rundown for those interested: camp counselor, adaptive river guide, partnerships assistant for the Boston Harbor Islands National Park area ((where I learned a ton but realized I’d never have an office 9-5 again if I could help it)), Girl Scouts events/curriculum/camps specialist and guide, wilderness medicine instructor, search + rescue member, trail race director, speaker, communications and campaign consultant, and beyond.)

The connecting thread through it all: building safety, stoke, and stories for under-recognized communities to access outdoor adventure. ❤️

15 years later and it’s Baby’s First Outdoor Retailer! 🥳 My patchwork of past experiences paired with my current self-employed freedom gives me a great opportunity to share nuanced perspectives and spark discussion with others in the industry.

The #1 question I traveled to Minneapolis with was “How can outdoor industry leaders work together in creative ways to bring more communities into nature?” and I’ll share takeaways around those very conversations over the next month.

Today is all about one of my fave topics: partnerships. 🤝 Obsessed with them because partnerships:

• encourage us to share and use resources wisely (e.g. the federal govt can’t fundraise for parks, but their nonprofit partners can)

• amplify new/different voices to audiences who need to hear them

• help under-resourced nonprofits get shit done (e.g. the trail running scholarship between Wild Woman Trail Runs and The Cairn Project)

• lead to unexpected innovation and new use cases

As someone who’s built outdoor partnerships for 15 years and counting (you can hire me! ;) ), I was thrilled to hear the word “partnerships” buzzing around the OR floor all week

Here are my favorite takeaways about outdoor industry partnerships from OR ‘26:

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🛍️ Everyone wins when brands partner with local retail stores.

Embarrassingly, as someone who’s fallen in love with mountain biking over the past year, I struggle to do repairs as simple as changing a flat. Both trailside repairs and in-my-garage maintenance are intimidating to me and tasks I dread.

A few years ago, I saw a flyer in Hood River for a women’s mountain bike trailside repair clinic in a bike shop. Today, when I need to fiddle with something on my bike, I think about what I learned that night. AND I think about the products I saw and touched during the clinic.

I was a super beginner back then (it took me years after that to start mountain biking regularly). That was the first time I learned about CO2 cartridges for flat tires. They showed us a CO2 cartridge and we went around practicing using them. Since that was my first exposure to it, the product and brand stuck in my brain as THE CO2 cartridge that I would recognize in a crowded store.

To this day, when I buy CO2 cartridges, it’s the pink and black Muc-Off one that I immediately see on shelves and recognize as the one I’ve physically used myself. A two-hour repair clinic inadvertently created a brand loyal customer for life.

Imagine what could happen for a brand if they sponsored educational clinics in local stores! A brand would cement itself in a beginner or novice’s memory as their go-to brand. The retail store would be recognized as a supportive place to learn new skills and buy gear from. And the athlete or enthusiast feels safer and more confident because they recognize the resources made available to them. A win-win-win! (Not to mention keeping dollars in the local economy.)

There is no marketing spend that competes with being the brand in someone’s hands the first time they do something hard successfully.

Paid posts, billboards, and booths just don’t stand up to an IRL experience that builds confidence and competence.

I want to see more stores partnering with brands for educational clinics and experiences here in my town. In fact I started chatting with an awesome bike industry brand about maintenance clinics because we all know that’s something I really need to brush up on and feel more confident in. (If you’re in the Gorge and you want to stay in the loop, shoot me a message.)

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📱 Your creator partners know selling points about your product that you don’t (and can create media about them).

When GG Edwards from Gnara (the pants you can keep on when you squat to pee!) designed her apparel, she pictured customers on a glacier, in a harness, needing to pee. That was the primary use case she had in mind.

Then she partnered with creators and asked for feedback, and discovered use cases she never would have guessed. Adaptive athletes, people with specific medical needs, trail crews, bridge inspectors, somebody who sailed across the world wearing only Gnara bottoms.

Many brands treat creator partnerships as simple (and boring) distribution: here’s the product, here’s a code, please post Thursday! A creator partner is far more valuable to you by sharing innovative use cases that you may not have even designed for. And what they say about that matters:

Because all businesses are now media companies too. Leverage partners who can help create specific, niche, scroll-stopping media.

People in 2026 ask ChattyG and Claudia what gear to buy for their next backpacking adventure. At any moment, a chatbot is synthesizing whatever it can find already written about you.

Which means the media some brands have been defunding for a decade (PR, paid editorial, partnerships with creators), are about to matter more than they have in years. Your ad spend does not teach a language model what your product is for. But creator partners do.

I love the brands who have many partners across niche areas, rather than one generic outdoor influencer. People learning outdoor sports have very specific questions (you should see my search history about wing foiling this week). Niche creators know the specific questions, and that’s the content source that’ll pop up next time someone goes to an LLM for gear recs.

Work with creators to find new use cases and to stand out when folks search for sports tips online.

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🚴 Experiences – not gear alone – are what get people into the sport.

Beginners and novices don’t come to a sport with brand preferences. They arrive terrified of picking wrong, doing wrong, and then they hand purchasing decisions to whoever is standing in front of them being kind about it. Just like when I learned how to use CO2 cartridges on my tires.

That person (or store) becomes their default resource for learning more in the future.

That hands-on experience doesn’t even have to be directly related to your product! On an OR panel about connecting with the Gen Z segment of the market, a rep from Red Wing Shoes mentioned that the brand hosts events for teenagers about career discovery and trades. I LOVE that – using a retail space for something not about the product, but that shows that you care about a community.

Retail floors are the cheapest venue for gatherings that leave a mark on novice customers. Novices need ecosystems, not products. A tent doesn’t make somebody a camper, a group that camps monthly does. When you offer clinics, group rides, and store nights, you’re not selling gear to a novice, you’re building the ecosystem that lets her keep going (that may become her go-to ecosystem for the next thirty years). You help a new customer go from “I’m trying to mountain bike” to “I am mountain biking” to “I’m a mountain biker.”

Brands, you already pay rent for a room with your name on it. Use it! In-store presence and events are one of the highest-value, lowest-cost things a brand can offer a nonprofit partner or impact campaign.

Share your space with locals: If a local community group can hold their monthly meetup in your store, you may have found yourself hosting a room full of the exact people you’re trying to reach, on a recurring schedule, forever

🧑🏽‍🤝‍🧑🏽 If your brand can’t write a check, share your network.

True partnership is not charity with a logo slapped on it. Yes, nonprofits need money. But money isn’t always the most useful thing you have to give – your network is! (I swear by this, with my nonprofit experience. Who you know and can connect me with is SO valuable.)

Your network is worth more than a one-time check. An introduction to the aligned foundation, new buyer, or solid press contact can be worth ten times what you were going to donate, but it only costs you an email.

Your employees are part of your network too, and getting staff involved with a nonprofit partner is powerful and underutilized. People stay at companies where the work connects to a greater mission.

And don’t forget the power of a megaphone. Brands can support nonprofits, policy changes, and community leaders simply by amplifying their message. It costs very little to add a blurb to your email blast, repost an IG post, or explain in a blog how a policy change affects how your customers can interact with nature.

The network share of the First 50k Sisterhood is a beautiful, recent example of this.

The Cairn Project needed a scheduled race. They needed somebody who could act as liaison between the race and the non-profit (me!). They needed stats and language to offer sponsors to get them excited about the program. Wild Woman Trail Runs was able to share all of that. They reserved 15 spots in the June ultramarathon. Those 15 women, plus the Cairn Project as a whole, continued to share the story about training for Wild Woman for months. That pointed more and more people to Wild Woman, and we ended up with a record sized field.

Wild Woman got more runners, more publicity, and more women into trail running. And it didn’t cost anything financially. In fact the cohort fundraised over $25,000 to fund future programs for The Cairn Project.

Money talks, but so does access to people with other resources.

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Partnerships are one major, often overlooked key to make nature more accessible.

Going back to my Big Question for OR: “How can outdoor industry leaders work together in creative ways to bring more communities into nature?”

Become an IRL resource for a beginner learning a skill for the first time. Ask the people who use your gear about the surprising ways they use it. Lend your network, staff, store, or megaphone to a cause you care about even if you can’t cut a check. Do it all more than once.

Coming up next week: The people the outdoor industry NEEDS to stop overlooking (you probably know a bunch of them).

Brands! Wanna chat more about partnerships? Schedule a call for when I’m back from UTMB and adventuring!

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Last week on BLOOD, SWEAT + FEAR:

Wondering how you got here? Hi, I’m Angie Lake! 👋 I’m a creative consultant and not-elite-just-enthusiastic athlete living in the mountains and rivers of Washington. I talk about the tough stuff — Blood, Sweat, and Fear — with the goal of building a happier, healthier world for women. You can check out all the ways to work with me here, or follow me on Instagram and LinkedIn.

Upcoming events + opps

How to work together

You know when you’re digging through your Google Drive looking for something old and inconsequential and then stumble upon something WAY more interesting that you would’ve otherwise forgotten about? That’s what spurred today’s reflections. I went looking for a warranty code and found fascinating data instead. 🤓

In 2025, we surveyed 60 women in the Wild Woman Trail Runs community about their running habits, barriers, and preferences. The results popped up to remind me that hey, I’m sitting on a small goldmine of data about women in running! Yes, the sample size is small, but the respondents are enthusiastic and detailed. When I parsed it out, here’s what stood out to me.

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👟 Wearing your brand vs. trusting your brand are different.

We asked two separate questions: What are your top three favorite running shoe or apparel brands? Then: what brands and companies do you think help women access running the most?

I would’ve expected some overlap in answers — but they didn’t correlate! Check out the columns:

A third of respondents couldn’t name a single brand that helps women access running.

Write-in responses said: “not sure,” “no clue,” “I can’t think of any.” (The exception that did get shouted out, and by a notable quarter of respondents, was Oiselle!)

For the data nerds, I looked at these responses across demographics and found that the “can’t think of brands that help women access running” answer was even across age and income brackets. Less of a segment problem, more of a market problem, it seems?

The alarming part of this: Countless brands are preaching “inclusion! welcoming beginners! building community!” as their values. Clearly, that’s not reaching the end user. (I wrote about this more a few weeks ago: The Problem with “Inclusion”.) I’m more and more often getting the Ick from brands slapping words on their branding that they can’t stand behind.

Discussion starters:

• Brands: There’s a discrepancy between how many people wear a brand vs. how many people believe the brand is there to welcome people like them. How can you narrow your ratio?

• Individuals: What would a brand have to DO to prove that they care about your community? (Really, tell me, so I can rally with you.)
  

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🏃🏽‍♀️‍➡️ Women runners are preoccupied with safety, and a product can’t solve the cause.

We asked: “What frustrates you most about being a woman in trail running?” 37% named fear as it relates to safety: they wrote about being watched, being followed, the need to carry a weapon, risks of running solo, hypervigilance near men on trail, having to tell a partner about their daily run plans, etc.

Safety was named more often than any other single frustration, by a wide margin.

As one respondent said:

“What frustrates me most is that I feel safe until others make me feel unsafe.”

Other responses: no childcare at races, cutoff times too fast for a range of paces, coverage of the sport centered on men, gear designed for men.

Product innovation cannot solve the problem of women’s safety on trail. (Especially BIWOC, queer women, etc. — more on that in last week’s post.) And that’s probably why this problem persists over decades. If a product could solve the safety problem, we would’ve fixed it by now. Instead, we need brands to support the harder work of cultural shifts.

Nearly every brand in trail running sells the feeling of freedom in nature. Yet, many consumers buying from these brands are managing a constant calculation about their own safety the entire time — decidedly not freedom.

Discussion starters:

• Brands: What can you offer beyond a product to advocate for women’s safety?

• Individuals: What conversations do you wish men would have around being allies to women on trail?

💬 Trust travels through word of mouth recommendations.

We asked where respondents look for running guidance and inspiration. Over 3/4 of them said “friends.” Half mentioned podcasts, and (surprising to me), 40% said Instagram. Far and away, word-of-mouth is the go-to source. Love that for us.

I compared this to our 2026 post-race runner survey at Wild Woman, with 86 respondents (20% of registrants). Only 3% mentioned Instagram as how they discovered our race. 33% were returning runners, and 37% heard of us from a friend or running partner. Two relay teams formed because strangers met racers while vacationing in the area. We literally got more registrants from random people bumping into each other on trail than we did from social media.

You only get one shot at a race to earn a new registrant’s trust. Knowing that we spend nothing on advertising and that word of mouth recs steer the whole ship, it’s so important for Wild Woman to give runners an experience they’ll rave about.

And we did! 77% of 2026 post-race respondents rated us a flat 10/10 overall. 79% are already saying they're returning next year, 78% felt "very welcomed," 55% made a new connection, 78% camped on site. How I read this:

Many brands, races, and media are buying attention in a category where trust doesn’t transfer through attention. Trust transfers through people.

Here’s where I wanna dig deeper in the future: 56% of the 2025 survey respondents said they belong to no running community at all (run clubs, e.g.). But when asked about why they love Wild Woman, the aspect they name most often is “community.”

People are moving into the sport and events because of trusted friends and community — yet many women don’t have an ongoing community to spend time with. (For many, it’s one weekend a year at Wild Woman.) Hmmmmmm. This will be one to pocket for a future survey.

Discussion starters:

• Brands: How are you reaching women customers who don’t belong to a running club or community?

• Individuals: What’s keeping you from joining a run club?

📰 Representation in media can directly shift the demographics of the sport.

Okay, one more set of data I’ll bring up for this one. You’ve hopefully heard by now about the First 50k Sisterhood scholarship program I launched through The Cairn Project this year. (And we’re gonna expand it for next year!!!)

11 women from the first selected cohort completed an in-depth post-program survey. 8 said they did not see themselves represented in this sport before the program. 5 chose “Not at all, this was transformative for representation.” Only 1 said she already felt she belonged in trail running.

A whopping 100% said they would not have confidently attempted a 50k on their own this year without this program. After the program, 82% plan to run another ultramarathon in the next two years (zero said they wouldn’t).

When I opened applications to the Sisterhood in December 2025 for women who had never before run an ultra, 2/3 of applicants told us trail running industry representation was a barrier for them. Based on the data I have, I’d say that plenty of those women would run an ultra on their own if directly and authentically invited into the sport.

I’m a 33 year old, white, middle class, cis-het woman who wears standard sized clothing and has no known disabilities. In many ways, I’m the everyday runner that media caters to.

I’ve been aware for years that that is a problem; that bodies like mine are not representative of all women nor all runners. But I haven’t taken enough action to change this culture.

Over the past year, I’ve gotten to meet and build relationships with so many women runners who think and look differently from me. And now I’m more fired up than ever about banding together to help more and more of them access this sport.

The First 50k Sisterhood was an incredible first step towards shifting resources and representation towards the amazing humans and runners who we have largely ignored or actively harmed for decades (well, centuries, but decades since running went mainstream). And its data proves that when women find themselves represented in a community, they participate at a highly engaged level in the sport.

(Side note: My recent “WTF” musings are around age. I know tons of women runners in their 50s + 60s, but hardly ever see them in brand media. One of our First 50k Sisterhood runners is almost 70 and she was an incredibly strong and supportive community member. I’m going to be paying more attention to ageism in running.)

Discussion starters:

• Brands: What are you doing to reach underserved and undercelebrated communities beyond telling your photographers to capture “diversity”?

• Individuals: What publications or accounts do you follow that share a true breadth of runner stories?

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My biggest takeaway from all the data I shared:

A product doesn’t inherently welcome anyone into trail running. It’s the community built around the product that can, and most brands are leaving a lot on the table.

If you work at a brand, a race, a magazine, or a running store and any of this contradicts what you're seeing in your own numbers, I would sincerely love to know. Also, I’d love to just chat and get to know you! ❤️ Book a virtual coffee here.

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And now, to leave on a beautiful high note, here are some direct quotes from Wild Woman 2026 runners for some feel good fuzzies: 😍

“No one cared how fast I was, they cared that I was out there. Whether it was conversations at camp, encouragement on the course, or cheering at the finish, I felt supported instead of judged.”

“I didn’t realize I needed an all woman event until I got to run in one.”

“I’m not here for my partner who ran the race. I’m not here for my friend who ran the race. I’m here because I ran the race - this is for me! I have NEVER been a competitor before.”

“In two of my three past races I had negative experiences with men, including being pushed out of the way. It nearly turned me off of events all together, until I found Wild Woman. I honestly feel like I have the courage to take on another event and take up the space I need after completing this 50k.”

"A woman congratulated me for being there and acknowledged that it takes a lot to train for a half with two children. I about cried. As a stay at home mom recognition and celebration aren't a part of my day to day."

“As a transgender runner, I think that might be the first time I’ve really felt like I belonged at an event I was running in.”

“As a recent 2x breast cancer survivor I used this training cycle to finally regain stamina to run a 6 mile relay leg. Being able to do so in such a supportive environment was a gift.”

“I am very happy I took the risk of trying this out at age 65, and have already signed up for my next ultra run in October!”

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That’s a wrap on the summer trail running series! See the whole series here.

Last week on BLOOD, SWEAT + FEAR:

Wondering how you got here? Hi, I’m Angie Lake! 👋 I’m a creative consultant and not-elite-just-enthusiastic athlete living in the mountains and rivers of Washington. I talk about the tough stuff — Blood, Sweat, and Fear — with the goal of building a happier, healthier world for women. You can check out all the ways to work with me here, or follow me on Instagram and LinkedIn.

Upcoming events + opps

How to work together

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I’ve been a girl/woman in male-dominated sports since I was 6 years old. For many of those years, I thought the gender gap problem was about confidence.

That if more women just “believed in themselves,” they’d take up more space in sports. Then they’d sign up for the race! Apply for the job! Stop apologizing for literally just existing on the trail!

Let’s be real: I wanted to believe that, because a confidence problem is one I can solve. I can write an essay, host a workshop, or build a scholarship program. (And I do, and those help, but they don’t change a toxic system at its root.)

What I didn’t notice earlier in my career, because the entire industry was telling me the opposite, is that confident women athletes still get underpaid, harassed, and ignored. It was never about individual mindset or picking yourself up by your shoelaces.

Recently, as I ideate around next year’s First 50k Sisterhood program expansion, I’ve been digging into reports put together by the Running Industry Diversity Coalition, specifically their 2023–2025 published research on diversity in trail running and barriers to the sport. (As well as the Outdoor Industry Association’s Participation Trends report.)

Here are some of the findings I keep thinking about. (I’ve attempted to cite specific data within the writing, but go explore their research body as a whole!)

When we talk about “women in sports,” who are we really talking about?

New outdoor sports participants have been majority women for a decade.^[1] In 2024, all of the growth in outdoor participation came from people of color. White participation slightly went down.^[2]

So the woman signing up for her first trail race, the one many brands claim to be building products for, is more than ever a woman of color. If our races, media, events, and products aren’t deeply thinking of her, then we’re not truly thinking about the women showing up and growing in the sport. (And in worst cases, we’re just doing it for a “representation” photo to check a box.)

Women runners of color face far more barriers than white women runners. Consider a white woman hitting structural barriers to running: No childcare at the race. A sponsorship that pays in gear instead of cash and that disappears when she turns 40 or has a kid. A governing body with no women in leadership. She’s told the barrier is internal. Work on your limiting beliefs! Find your why! Join a community!

Now consider that for a woman of color, because she gets the double dose. Everything above, plus: races where 80 percent of white runners always feel safe and only 56 percent of runners of color do,^[3] apparel cut for a body the industry decided was standard (a white one), and price, which women of color name as the number one unmet need in both shoes and apparel.^[4]

The women’s panel (which is usually all white or nearly all white) says: Believe in yourself! The industry (which focuses on products for white people) says: The trail is free, just get out there! We get messaging on confidence when that was never the reported problem.

Telling women to work on their mindset while leaving the existing structure untouched is just gaslighting with fancy Nike branding.

Is it a lack of confidence? Or a lack of safety?

Of the runners of color who report feeling unsafe on trails, 63 percent are women.^[5] Latina and gender-expansive runners described their pre-run routine to researchers: share your location. Send a photo of the trail. Carry your ID. Tell somebody when you plan to turn around and when you’ll be home.^[6] That’s not low confidence. It’s a necessary risk assessment.

The same workplace research found that LGBTQ+ women and women with disabilities are more likely than women overall to have colleagues comment on their appearance, or tell them they look mad, or that they should smile more.^[7] (BARF.) The undertone is “fix your face, shift your energy — you’re the problem, not us.” Read: ~ BeLiEve In YoUrSeLf ~

Runners of color report feeling significantly less safe than white runners. An LGBTQ+ Black runner is less safe. With every overlapping identity that faces violence at disproportionate rates, a runner becomes less safe. So instead of talking about confidence, what if we talked about how to increase running safety for a queer Black woman with a disability, for example?

This is why the industry can run a decade of “women’s initiatives” and still have women underrepresented in every leadership role, athlete roster, and board room. We’ve gotten very good at helping women adapt to a system that was never built with them in mind. That’s a whole lot of people we’re still not considering when we make decisions.

Companies wish that confidence was the problem.

When the RIDC set out to survey running companies about their own diversity numbers, they budgeted two months for recruitment. It took nearly four. In their words, they were “met with a good amount of fear and red tape conversations.”^[8]

Runners fear for their physical and psychological safety. Companies fear… a survey.

The same industry that sells women resilience, that prints BE BRAVE! on a tank top, that has run a decade of panels about owning your worth, could not answer a questionnaire about its own org chart without four months of coaxing.

Out of the 63 organizations that eventually answered, 60% said they don’t know where to find qualified candidates from underrepresented racial and ethnic groups.^[9] In 2020, there were an estimated 16 million runners of color in the US.^[10] They are, indeed, on the trail and in the run clubs, and statistically the reason this sport is gaining new members. But “we can’t find them” is a far more comfortable sentence than “we haven’t looked.”

So we tell women that confidence will teach them to advocate for themselves, because nobody else in the organization will.

If the problem’s structural, not personal, then fixing it requires truly confronting power. Not saying “just do it!” or “ignore the haters!”, but confronting the people and policies and funding decisions that created the disparity in the first place. (Which yeah, is scarier and harder.)

Mindset work isn’t useless, but it can’t be a substitute for structural change.

The Freedom to Run case study was a test in what happens when you remove more structural barriers to running. They had 14 selected BIPOC applicants receive coaching, training, gear, education, race entry, and a community. (57.1% of participants were women, 7.1% transgender.) All fourteen set out to finish a race at the end of the program, and they came out the other side logging personal distance records. One of them went home and started a trail running community that hit 100 members in 90 days.^[11]

The First 50k Sisterhood inaugural cohort had very similar numbers: 15 women, 12 running the intended race, and many of them now eyeing longer distances and more community involvement than when they started.

Community works when it comes with resources. Vibes matter, sure, but PLUS a budget. Confidence, PLUS examination of a broken structure. We can’t deflect it all to just… good vibes and positive thinking.

Most mindset work teaches women to attempt to fit in better, armor up, stand tall in a place that will never actually serve them. Resilience is a great survival skill, but it was never meant to be trail running’s top strategy for women’s inclusion. Women — especially women of color — cannot simply “mindset” their way out of patriarchy, capitalism, and systems built on white supremacy.

I’ll be thinking more deeply about all this as we expand the First 50k Sisterhood. I wonder: What if the most radical thing we could do for women in sports isn’t helping them get more confident? What if it’s refusing to keep asking them to be confident enough to absorb what shouldn’t be tolerated in the first place?

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Sources. All RIDC reports are published by the Running Industry Diversity Coalition, a 501(c)(3), and available at runningdiversity.com. The participation data is from the Outdoor Foundation and Outdoor Industry Association at outdoorindustry.org.

I don’t often write about research and therefore may have messed up citations; I’m trying! These reports deserve more readers than they’ve gotten, so go read them yourself.

[1] Outdoor Foundation / Outdoor Industry Association, 2025 Outdoor Participation Trends Report (2024 data), p. 71. New participants were 52.3% female in 2024, against a ten-year average of 52.9%.

[2] 2025 Outdoor Participation Trends Report, pp. 6, 21. White participation fell 1.1%, or 1.3 million participants.

[3] Running Industry Diversity Coalition, Racial Diversity in Trail Running: Understanding the Underrepresented Experience (2023), p. 17.

[4] Racial Diversity in Trail Running, pp. 26, 28, 30. Price is named the #1 concern for women in both footwear and apparel, and respondents reported that most apparel is not made for fuller or shorter body types (p. 26). Among all BIPOC respondents, 62% report unmet needs on footwear price against a 16% baseline, and 68% on apparel price against a 23% baseline.

[5] Racial Diversity in Trail Running, p. 13. Of BIPOC respondents feeling unsafe at least some of the time on trails: 63% women, 31% men, 6% nonbinary.

[6] Racial Diversity in Trail Running, p. 20.

[7] McKinsey & Company, Women in the Workplace 2022, cited in RIDC, Racial Diversity and the Business of Running: Mapping a Path to Equitable Employment, Leadership, and Ownership (2023), p. 21.

[8] Racial Diversity and the Business of Running, p. 6.

[9] Racial Diversity and the Business of Running, p. 14.

[10] RIDC, The Future of Running: Connecting With The Next Generation of Racially Diverse Runners (2023), p. 20. BIPOC runners are 34% of 46.4 million US runners and joggers aged 11+, per SFIA 2020 data.

[11] RIDC, Freedom to Run: Back Outside (2025), pp. 8, 20, 32. The community is Sin Miedo in Nashville, founded by participant Antoine Haugabook, which reached 100+ members and 3,300 Instagram followers in 90 days.

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Wondering how you got here? Hi, I’m Angie Lake! 👋 I’m a creative consultant and not-elite-just-enthusiastic athlete living in the mountains and rivers of Washington. I talk about the tough stuff — Blood, Sweat, and Fear — with the goal of building a happier, healthier world for women. You can check out all the ways to work with me here, or follow me on Instagram and LinkedIn.

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High school me was furious when my track coach lumped the mid-distance runners with the distance runners for a day and made us do a 6 mile run in suburban Massachusetts. (Absolutely not, I would certainly die, I thought.) As a picky eater, I was primarily fueled by plain bagels and raw cookie dough with no rhyme or reason around nutrition or training for performance.

College me ran mindlessly as a form of escapism and control. Long, aimless pavement miles and under-fueling led to constant injuries, a missing period, and a worrisome disconnection to my own body.

Late 20’s me toyed with the idea of trying a trail ultra because it sounded big and glamorous, like a “real” runner. Pinterest training plans and rolls of KT Tape didn’t get me there… But during the pandemmy, I learned about effort-based training and time on feet, finallllyyy started to fuel properly, and took strength training and cross training more seriously, leading me through the finish of my first 50k before I truly knew I could do it. 🥹

Mid-30’s me can run a 100 mile race without injury, juggle all my favorite sports without losing my period, and throw down carbs like nobody’s business and feel dang good about it. (Check out this vid from circumnavigating Mt. St. Helens this past weekend!)

Meanwhile in Arkansas, Zoë Rom came to running as a self-described non-athlete (she practically didn’t make the no-cut high-school cross-country team). In college, running became a way to know and respect her body while in recovery from an eating disorder. But after growing up in diet culture, her early fueling strategy was ”eat the least you can get away with,” even attempting the Leadville 100 on cereal and gummy bears.

That shifted at a 50 miler when she boldly decided to test a new nutrition strategy. After leaning into carbs and calories hard for that race, Zoë thought, “I had no idea that running ultras could be this easy.” (!)

The two of us covered our running stories — and what we see women runners struggle with today — on an episode of the See Her Outside Podcast that you totally need to listen to:

Anyway, when I decided to launch the First 50k Sisterhood scholarship program, I thought back to the past versions of me who only dreamed of ultras. I wrote on the website: Maybe you’ve thought about running an ultra, but you told yourself, “I don’t know if I can run that far. I don’t know how to start training. I’m not fast enough. I don’t see women like me doing this. There isn’t anyone to train with.”

What I didn’t expect were dozens of women reaching out to say “Those sentences are constantly running in my head.” Societal, institutional, and mental barriers affect tons of women. So, I culled through what myself and Zoë (who coached the Sisterhood!) talked about in that episode.

Here are 34 tactical, practical tips for the woman who wants to run her first ultramarathon (or just start trail running altogether). Let’s go.

🥯Fueling for Runners Who Live in Diet Culture

• You eat because you’re a human, not only because you’re training. Fuel your life, not just your workouts.

• Flip the question from “how little can I get away with?” to “how much can I eat out here?”

• Carbs are your friend; high-carb fueling can feel like a switch from ”hard mode to easy mode.”

• Make scary carbs approachable: start with a flavor and texture you enjoy (a cookie, a chip, Sour Patch Kids), get comfortable, then titrate up.

• Under-fueling causes injuries and can stop your period (a missing cycle is a warning sign, not a badge of athleticism, trust me).

• Through menopause, you don’t need to eat totally differently or avoid aerobic exercise out of cortisol fear. Be wary of fear-based supplement stacks.

READ: The Food Comment that Almost Ruined My 100 Mile Run

🏋️ Training Shouldn’t Always Feel Hard

• Easy running is hard to do (the ego wants speed), but it builds your aerobic base, prevents injury, and makes running more sustainable and fun.

• Run your easy days truly easy (I spend about 80% of time running at an all-day pace when I can speak in full sentences).

• Build hard efforts on top of a big easy base so you carry less fatigue into workouts and long runs.

• Skip the random mileage-chart plans from Google or Pinterest; prioritize time on feet and effort over hitting exact numbers.

• For very long races, the primary skill is problem-solving: altered gait, new blisters, constantly adjusting hydration and sodium on the fly.

READ: 3 Actions That Pushed Me From Injured Runner To Ultramarathoner

🧠 Mindset Shifts for Longer Distances

• Sign up before you feel fully ready (let’s be real, you’ll never feel fully ready until around mile 99.98).

• Reframe your life circumstances (kids, caretaking, a chaotic job) as neutral information rather than limitations.

• Your imperfect training still counts; it doesn’t have to look pretty or Instagrammable.

• It’s okay to have feelings about body and life changes without letting them dictate your behavior.

• Get good at listening to your body since it communicates constantly; respect its data instead of telling it to quiet down.

• Be skeptical of any narrative, especially a fear-based one, from someone who profits when you believe it.

• Aging and menopause aren’t problems to solve but human aspects to navigate; you’re still a whole human.

• Celebrate the milestones. You don’t have to be elite to have an epic day.

READ: What I Told My Brain During My 100 Mile Trail Run

👟 Should You Try Run Coaching?

• Good coaching adapts to your life, values, and stress: it’s not your job to shove training into your life; it’s the coach’s job to make it fit who you are.

• You don’t have to be elite to deserve a coach. Coaching helps beginners through pros any time you want to get better. Even coaches have coaches.

• Coaching should build independence, not dependence on someone else. You learn the rules so you know when to break them yourself.

• Training is not a referendum on your worth; when something isn’t clicking, it’s a problem to solve together.

• Don’t fear that structure kills the joy of running. Structure can protect that joy.

WATCH: Breaking Barriers for Women to Run their First Ultramarathon (the First 50k Sisterhood)

🎤 Why You Should Share Your Running Story

• You don’t have to set records to tell a story that moves people to act. Sharing your struggles and wins gives other women permission and can change someone’s path and grow the sport!

• Everyday, specific, honest stories resonate more than vague “just believe in yourself” messaging.

• Share the grit: getting a period back, having kids alongside training, returning from injury, RED-S recovery. (Like our Sisterhood did!)

• Others share your struggles. Every shame or challenge you carry, many other women are navigating too; getting together, talking, and problem-solving about it out loud is what will radically reshape the sport.

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⚡Bonus: Insta-Coach Game!

I challenged Coach Zoë to a game of “Insta-Coach,” where I give her a scenario and she has to coach in one sentence:

“I have two toddlers and no time to train for a 50K.”
—> Get a running stroller, it’s a worthwhile investment in both your training time and a fun way to spend time with your kids.

“Every plan I try ends in injury, so maybe running just isn’t for me.”
—> It’s normal to fear re-injury — but a coach who personalizes your plan and adjusts for your stress and life on the fly can break the cycle.

“I want to run a 250-miler, but I haven’t even run a marathon.”
—> Get into fast-packing and find whole-food options you’re genuinely excited to eat for three days straight, since the main skill for 200s is problem-solving.”

“I live in flat, humid Florida, but my goal race is a hilly 50k in Washington.”
—> Humidity training is brutal, so respect it. Use a treadmill for uphill work and strength training for eccentric, downhill-ready legs; pairing uphill workouts with downhill-oriented strength is about as good as it gets.

“My first 100 is overnight and I’m scared of the night miles.”
—> Practice it once, but don’t build it up. The world isn’t any scarier when the sun goes down, you just get to be a little braver. Learn to live in the small world inside your headlamp.

“Carbs are scary. How do I make them less scary?”
—> Start with something you enjoy, a flavor and texture that excite you, whether that’s a cookie, a chip, or Sour Patch Kids. Get comfortable there, then titrate up.

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Friends and internet strangers, I hope you’ll take some of these tips or share them with someone in your life who’s trail-curious or ultra-curious. This sport has given me so much in life, and I’m not even competitive! Enjoy clicking through all the links in this post while I rest my legs a bit longer post-race. <3

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Wondering how you got here? Hi, I’m Angie Lake! 👋 I’m a creative consultant and not-elite-just-enthusiastic athlete living in the mountains and rivers of Washington. I talk about the tough stuff — Blood, Sweat, and Fear — with the goal of building a happier, healthier world for women. You can check out all the ways to work with me here, or follow me on Instagram and LinkedIn.

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Last month at TrailCon, I sat in the audience for a panel about growth and the future of trail running. Moderator Ian MacGregor, CEO of Skratch Labs, asked the panel: “What is the trail running industry celebrating right now that we might look back on in a few years and realize was actually a warning sign?”

Well damn. The best interview questions are the ones that make your own brain swirl from the audience. And did mine swirl, indeed. Here’s where I landed on a warning sign:

Trail brands are hyperfocused on performance metrics and optimization and a scale-at-all-costs mentality. Dollars and screens are carrying more weight than RPE and time spent in nature. Money is rolling in, influencers are sharing every split to their Story, and casual runners stress TF out if they forget their pre-workout magic juice. Watches tell us how we should feel.

We’re training an entire sport to outsource the most basic human skill — noticing what’s happening inside your own body — to a screen on your wrist and a dashboard on an app.

Are we going to forget how to feel?

My fear for the future of trail running is that we’re going to optimize the sport to death. Tech, AI, and consumerism is going to suck all the fun, reflection, and healing from the sport.

We have more data on our own bodies than ever. And sure, there are some amazing perks to that. But when data and metrics become an obsession, become prioritized over how we notice we feel sans tech, we lose the whole point of trail running: to tune into our bodies, push our limits now and then, and feel good and wild and free.

I rolled my eyes when I saw that Steven Bartlett podcast clip this summer, confessing that having a glass of wine “ruined three days of his life.” (His sleep, workouts, focus.) It’s like human pleasure is a performance failure.

We’re so busy measuring our lives that we’re forgetting to fully live them. That scares me more than any sleep score.

Everywhere I look, trail running is tipping toward measuring and optimizing every possible metric in the holy name of performance. Cadence! Ground contact time! HRV! Training load! Recovery scores! Sleep debt! Don’t fuck this up, imperfect human!

So if and when we do fuck it up, we get down on ourselves: “Why am I not disciplined enough for this?” “Well shit, since I didn’t sleep well, I can’t possibly do that interval workout.” “I need to tell my kid I can’t have that birthday cake since it’ll spike my glucose and I have a long run in the morning.”

The numbers aren’t evil. Of course, using metrics as one reflection tool is helpful for health and performance goals. But in many places, we’ve stopped using data to understand our experience and started using it to replace it.

This is by design. Optimization culture has a big check attached to it.

Ads tell you, constantly, that you must buy more to perform more. A better watch. A smarter ring. The subscription that reads your blood from your kitchen counter and hands back a color-coded verdict on your own morning, or whatever.

The tech doesn’t sell you fitness. It sells you the suspicion that your own perception is unreliable, and then, conveniently, sells you the correction (for a low-low monthly price of $39.99!). The biz model runs on your disconnection from yourself, because a woman who trusts her own body is a woman who doesn’t buy as much.

Every trail running brand in 2026 is preaching inclusion. The same industry is teaching people that to belong out here, you have to buy your way in.

Surprise-surprise: It’s patriarchy/white supremacy/capitalism, wrapped up in “optimization” wrapping paper!

Capitalism profits from your self-doubt. White supremacy decides who gets to safely spend time on the trails (that are on stolen land, of course), and whose body is the default for research. Patriarchy frames certain bodies as unruly, fragile, and in need of external management. Optimization culture wraps it all together with a warning: your body is not to be trusted, so do what we tell you.

(And before you run away, know that I am not at all anti-business. I am pro-commerce, just not pro-capitalism. I love small running businesses. And, I know it’s worth examining the forces that have shaped our western culture over centuries. When we avoid talking about these tougher aspects or our economy and culture, we fall back into our conditioning, which tends to not be “inclusion.”)

Elitism is the near future (arguably present) of trail running. We are getting more and more exclusive in the pursuit of optimization. You need to afford the gear and time, feel safe on a trail, and see yourself reflected in the picture we’re painting of a “real athlete.”

Instead, I wish we could “optimize” for communities on trails. That we could make nature a safe, welcoming, available place for all to begin with. That we could optimize for the amount of people we introduce to the trails, for more representation of all cultures, genders, and socioeconomic class in trail media, for how well we take care of the land we run on.

(My episode with Sally Steele on See Her Outside in a few weeks will cover this!)

Trusting your body: a tiny rebellion?

This isn’t a “throw your Garmin in the river and swear off iron supplements!” post! I’m not anti high performance or self-improvement or competition. I know a lot of what I’ve ranted about can sound radical, but there’s a balance. We can use metrics as an aid and guidance. Most of us probably should.

But trusting your own body more than you trust the systems that profit from your doubt is a small rebellion to exclusivity.

The doubt we’ve been trained to feel (a nagging sense we’re not doing enough, tracking enough, disciplined enough) came from the same forces that have been oppressing communities for centuries. By turning away from doubt and turning back into our own bodies and feelings, we resist.

I’m going to keep wearing my Coros (still going strong 5.5 years later!). But I’m not going to let it, or anyone else, tell me to skip the celebratory glass of wine or stress over a few minutes of sleep or skip a visit with a friend for the sake of metrics.

^ All that is what settled in MY mind when Ian asked the panel to share a warning sign we’re facing now in running. The warning sign I see is over-optimization towards exclusion. Our mind-body connection is an asset worth protecting.

So, measure what returns you to your body. Refuse what replaces it. That’s the point of trail running, isn’t it?

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And remember to get your name on the interest list for Build Your Damn Website summer camp by Thursday if ya wanna join! Looking at you, athletes who need a web portfolio! 💻

Last week on BLOOD, SWEAT + FEAR:

Wondering how you got here? Hi, I’m Angie Lake! 👋 I’m a creative consultant and not-elite-just-enthusiastic athlete living in the mountains and rivers of Washington. I talk about the tough stuff — Blood, Sweat, and Fear — with the goal of building a happier, healthier world for women. You can check out all the ways to work with me here, or follow me on Instagram and LinkedIn.

Upcoming events + opps

How to work together

One month ago, I stood at the finish line of Wild Woman Trail Runs and watched woman after woman come through the flowered finish archway, taking the final steps of a trail ultramarathon. This has been how I’ve spent my entire career: helping people access sports and outdoor adventure. I’ve rowed people with disabilities down class IV whitewater. I’ve led Girl Scout troops on their first snow camping trips. I’ve taught adults and children wilderness first aid skills. What a dream!

But it took until just last month to have a big 💡aha moment that might shape the focus of the rest of my career.

The race videographer, a woman, filmed a runner crossing the line as another woman announced the finisher on mic. The runner thanked her coach, a woman. I heard another runner talking about a great sports dietitian, a woman (of course). That day, it hit me: my work isn’t meant only for athletes. It’s meant to help women become leaders in sports in so many other ways beyond the physical challenge of athletics.

We need more women in trail media who aren’t running the race themselves.

We need more women on mic for podcasts and events, sharing new perspectives. We need more women physical therapists, producers, race directors, journalists, race commentators, apparel designers… especially women of color and those who aren’t celebrated in traditional sports media.

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“What percent of runners are women?” is an easy number. It does matter, and I’m proud of my slice of it. But right now, a woman can win the biggest race of her life and still be coached, filmed, treated, and narrated almost entirely by men. She can be the star of the sport and a misunderstood guest in it at the same time. The people in the roles around a runner set the terms of her whole experience.

Her coach decides whether her training plan mentions her menstrual cycle (or shrugs if her period disappears). Her dietitian decides whether she’s taught to fuel vs. shrink. Her physical therapist decides whether her pain gets taken seriously or waved off. Her race director decides whether there’s tampons at the aid stations or a way to transport breast milk.

Same in media: Photographers decide which runners are worth pointing the camera at. Journalists decide whose comeback is a story. Editors decide which pitches become features.

I’ve spent so many years helping folks get to the race start line, giving them permission to call themselves runners, athletes, even ultrarunners… and yet, there’s so much more I’m excited about to help women get into the places where they interact with athletes.

➡️ I don’t want women to simply be the subject of trail running media. I want them to be the authors, the supporters, the media megaphones, the people who made that athletic feat possible.

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I still want every woman who wants to run… to run. Obviously! But I’m done treating “become an athlete” as the sole focus of gender equity in outdoor sports.

Coincidentally, I got this video of the First 50k Sisterhood in my inbox yesterday. A beautiful piece of media where women were both the authors and the athletes, the sponsors and the ultra finishers:

Enjoy the film! ^ And I’ll give you a few ideas to help us all diversify and support trail running beyond just athletes:

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✨Inspo for brands, races, and media:

• Count who’s around the athlete, not just how many women crossed your line. Track women on your coaching, media, medical, and leadership rosters. (As they say, what you track grows!)

• Put women behind the camera and on the mic, not only in front of them. When you staff an event’s media team, make women photographers, videographers, and commentators a requirement, not a nice-to-have.

• Pay for it. These are jobs. “Exposure” is not a wage. Budget for women in support and media the way you budget for athletes.

• Hire women in, then move them up. Don’t stop at a junior hire and call it progress. Mentor toward the head-coach chair, the editor’s desk, the board seat.

• Ask the women you already sponsor what they need from the people around them… then hire for that answer.

• When a woman says something honest (or, as they’ve historically said, “outspoken” or “bossy” or “TMI”), keep her. They’re sharing a truth you can be a leader in addressing.

• Publish your numbers. Who’s on your roster, your masthead, your board? If the answer would embarrass you… that’s a sign.

• Book a free athlete story audit with me! We can talk about how to better connect with and support women in your community through your brand storytelling.

✨Inspo for everyday athletes and running fans:

• You don’t have to be fast, or run at all, to belong here. Pick up the camera, start a blog, pitch that story, offer to announce the local 10k.

• Volunteer into the role you want to grow into. Races always need volunteers and the roles go beyond course marking and sweeping. They need timing, comms, medical aid, media. Use race volunteering to experiment with a role you’re interested in.

• Bring your skill to the sport. Nutrition, PT, writing, photography, design, coaching… the sport needs it, and it needs it from voices and perspectives like yours.

• When you get the mic, hand someone the next opp. Credit women, hire women, recommend women, celebrate women.

• Put your attention on women-made media. Follow, share, subscribe, pay the women telling these stories. Be a part of the market demand.

• Make your OWN sports media! This is my absolute jam. I’ll run another 🎤 Storytelling for Athletes workshop next month if I get enough interest - reply to this email if you want it!

• Start absurdly small. A group photo at a community run. A Substack with 12 readers. A table with support at a local race. What’s the teeeeeniest tiniest step toward getting your story into the public running sphere?

More women running isn’t the finish line. It’s a warm-up.

And it feels like the past 15 years of my career have been a fantastic warm-up for the race ahead. :)

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Do you work for a trail running brand? Book a free athlete story audit with me!
This one’s for the athlete managers, the marketing leads, the person single-handedly running the ambassador program at a trail running brand.

Here’s what I keep seeing: your athletes have stories that would make women trust and rave about your brand, aaand most of the best stories don’t make it into the world. It’s not the athlete’s job to figure out how their story serves your brand. That’s your job — and you’re doing it short-staffed, between product launches, with zero time to sit with one story long enough to find the angle. I totally feel you.

So bring me one. I’m opening free 20-minute coffee chats: you show up with one athlete, ambassador, race, or program you’re struggling to talk about, and we find the angle women will actually listen to. See more here and book a call!

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Last week on BLOOD, SWEAT + FEAR:

Wondering how you got here? Hi, I’m Angie Lake! 👋 I’m a creative consultant and not-elite-just-enthusiastic athlete living in the mountains and rivers of Washington. I talk about the tough stuff — Blood, Sweat, and Fear — with the goal of building a happier, healthier world for women. You can check out all the ways to work with me here, or follow me on Instagram and LinkedIn.

Upcoming events + opps

How to work together

Last month, I sat in the audience of over a dozen trail running panels, and one word came up in all of them: “Inclusion.”

Brand reps wove the word into all their responses. What’s the future of the sport going to bring? Inclusion. What has your company focused on this year? Inclusion. What’s your favorite part of the running community? Inclusion!!!

My ears perked up, ready to hear a bunch of specific examples on what brands are actually doing to welcome, include, and celebrate underserved runners and trail enthusiasts. Instead, I heard a lot of fluff. 🤷‍♀️

It’s wonderful that “inclusion” is, apparently, a hot topic in the running and outdoor sports world. But hardly anybody got into the specifics of what that actually means, what that truly looks like in trail running culture and business. It felt like “inclusion” was a fun trend that sports brands wanted to glom onto before it goes out of style.

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Saying the word “inclusion” is free. Practicing it costs money and control, and those are two resources most brands guard hardest.

Inclusion is not a one-time checkbox. It’s a practice of reevaluating your policies and procedures and messaging and outreach. It’s a reminder to sit in the discomfort of knowing the industry has a long way to go but putting in the work anyway. It’s learning to be okay with facing some risk and spending some resources to help more people access your product or services or experiences.

My fear is that despite all this talk about inclusion, trail running is actually going to become less inclusive of a diverse range of runners, especially as we’re told to buy more in order to perform more, based on the very metrics that people are selling you. (More on this in a couple weeks.)

But there was one panel I watched last month that did a great job at naming specific changes to foster inclusion: the para-athlete panel at TrailCon. After I outlined this post, I learned that this panel wasn’t originally in the event schedule. Pro runner + para-athlete Zach Friedley and the non-profit Born to Adapt shared this on Instagram:

Disability is the largest minority population in the world. Para athletes are actively competing in trail and mountain running around the globe…

So when an event centered around diversity, leadership, innovation, and the future of trail running does not include disability or any truly non-mainstream representation, it sends a message, whether intentional or not, about whose perspectives are considered part of that future.

Disability is not outside of trail running. We are already here.
-@borntoadapt and @trailblader on Instagram

Thankfully, folks spoke up and got this panel on the event schedule. But in this case, a para-running panel was an afterthought rather than a foundational part of a conference that uses the I-word liberally in marketing materials. Hopefully it’s a lesson and reminder for next year.

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Trail running remains very white, wealthy, and male. It doesn’t have to stay that way.

I myself feel some discomfort in writing about this, since I’m certainly not perfect. My expertise and experience centers on women’s inclusion, and I often have to learn my own blind spots, especially since inclusion is intersectional and I can’t simply focus on women without considering race, socioeconomics, etc. I know that my own events and media projects still have plenty of work ahead in our own practice of inclusion. We all do — and there are also tons of examples to find inspiration for action:

Races: Broken Arrow Skyrace built an Adaptive Athletes Program with guaranteed spots for adaptive athletes. UTMB pays its men and women equal prize money. The Standhope Ultra Challenge offers designated aid station nursing spaces and dedicated breast milk transport. Go Beyond Racing’s Trail Mix Fund gives adaptive athletes a free bib for a guide runner. UltraSignup added a nonbinary category to registration (we’ve had runners at Wild Woman enter within it!).

Products: Design on larger bodies from the start rather than grading up from a small (remember the dumb “shrink it and pink it” concept? similar issue). Add a shoe model that you can wear without being able to bend down or tie laces. Do market research specifically with inclusion in mind and ask directly what underserved communities need.

Media: Make sure the people in the design or decision room is representative of the people pictured in the advertisement. Hire media pros — photographers, videographers, journalists, commentators — who come from underrecognized populations. Spotlight runners beyond the frontrunners and elites (non-pro stories are more relatable to the masses anyway).

💡 Reflection Qs for brand founders and employees

This post isn’t meant to be a doom-and-gloom complaint — I want us to envision a better future! So here are a few specific questions you can ask yourself or your team to help make your brand actually, really more inclusive:

• When creating a new program or policy, ask: who is not in the room while making this decision? Who is missing from leadership?

• What specific barriers still exist to your product/event/community?

• Who do you already pay? Who can you pay?

• How can you resource others to start their own community?

• Are you elevating people because you believe in them, or because they fill a quota?

• Do you know your own numbers? If you polled your start line, your team, your ambassador roster tomorrow, would you publish them?

• Already doing inclusion work? Give us the actual examples when you’re holding the mic, instead of just “we love inclusion at this company.”

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The word “inclusion” is free; that’s why it’s everywhere. But the receipts are expensive, and so they’re rare.

But consumers will trust the receipts over anything else.

Gonna be on stage? Say “inclusion” less. Instead, show me what it cost you. ❤️

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Last week on BLOOD, SWEAT + FEAR:

Wondering how you got here? Hi, I’m Angie Lake! 👋 I’m a creative consultant and not-elite-just-enthusiastic athlete living in the mountains and rivers of Washington. I talk about the tough stuff — Blood, Sweat, and Fear — with the goal of building a happier, healthier world for women. You can check out all the ways to work with me here, or follow me on Instagram and LinkedIn.

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I spent two weeks straight at trail running events last month, and my notes app is bursting with thoughts on the hits, misses, and “what’s coming next” for the sport.

At its heart, trail running is simple. You and your feet and your breath, spending time outdoors in a pursuit to feel good (either in the moment or afterward — looking at you, hill sprints).

But the business side of trail running is anything but simple, and I’ve had a first and secondhand deep look into it this year. How do you make money from an activity that doesn’t truly require specialized gear? How do you welcome newbies into a sport that’s veering more and more into an elite culture? How do you identify and acquire spokespeople who will champion your work and the sport as a whole?

Flying straight from the race I direct (Wild Woman Trail Runs) to Tahoe for TrailCon (a trail running conference sandwiched between two other race weekends), these and many other questions swirled in my mind. I flew back home with a few dominant takeaways, and I’ll take a lap with each of them over the next few weeks.

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Trail running brands desperately want to stand out amongst the crowd, which is both easier and harder than ever.

Over 3 days at TrailCon, the best brand activations got me out of my head and into my body.

There were dozens of tents where brands simply sold goods: $60 branded hats stand out in my memory (though not in a good way, more of a 7th grade Hollister t-shirt way). Yes, these booths are expensive and brands need to make an ROI on them — but straight-up selling with no true experience ain’t it. 🤷‍♀️

A few brands stuck in my head by thinking out of the box:

• Skratch Labs had a “runner confession booth” where you’d enter to confess your running sins to one of their athletes on mic. Fun, controlled unpredictability, a bit “taboo”… Great! Though as you can guess, 95% of runner sins involved pooping on the trail, so it wasn’t as hard-hitting as it could be. If I were Skratch, I also would’ve leaned more into the “churchy” vibes of a confession booth to ground the experience more in our bodies and make it feel like you’re not just in a tent in a ski village.

• Patagonia had a build-your-own trail first aid kit, which as a former wilderness first aid instructor, I gushed over. You got a baggie and filled it with first aid items, which was both educational and convenient (now you have it to throw in your vest for your next run!). But I would’ve loved to see real time demos of how to use the supplies. A first aid kit is only as helpful as the practice you have using it. Again, getting participants in their bodies, not just their heads, makes the activation (and thus the brand) memorable.

• HOKA took over the ski village Coffeebar, which I think is an excellent opportunity, but left some to be desired. It’s pretty wild seeing a ski resort coffee shop morph overnight into a fully branded HOKA-meets-coffee experience, which alone got the brand in my brain. I loved the Freetrail printed newspapers scattered around the shop that were packed with articles about Broken Arrow and Western States. Print media feels rare these days, and it matched the coffeeshop vibe perfectly while adding tactile elements. But it would’ve been extra special to see HOKA add more runner hype into the coffee ordering experience: renamed menu items? A community bulletin board? Some kind of “guess the shoe mileage” for a chance to win a refill?

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One brand takes the podium, in my opinion: The Precision Fuel & Hydration 100m dash!

There’s a video of me mid-air, arms stretched overhead, leaping to snatch a gel off a string at the finish of a 100-meter dash. And… I made the finals! (I’m choosing to believe this makes me an elite athlete now. 😉)

The dash, run by British fuel brand Precision, was one of my most memorable moments in two weeks straight of in-person trail running events. You signed up, got assigned a bib, and went through heats of sprinting down the village, making a tight turn around a pile of haybales, sprinting back, and jumping to snatch a dangling Precision gel-filled flask at the finish line.

It was serious while silly. Competitive but not at all pretentious. A take on a tough event (how many adults ever run at a full sprint?!) that wove in their product in a damn fun way. It was a true race and completely ridiculous at the same time — and you bet I’ll always remember Precision’s name for it.

The several heats (which left my quads sore as hell) also gave me something that the other brands at TrailCon didn’t: a full-body flashback to 25ish years ago, standing on the start line at my hometown track during the summer community track meets in Framingham, MA.

I was 8 again, running because running was fun and felt like flying. Not because my watch told me to and I had a race on the calendar. I don’t think I’ve felt that exact feeling since I was a preteen. I left the Precision course lit up and a little stunned, thinking I need more of this.

THAT’S how to stand out as a conference vendor: You get people in their bodies.

You keep it simple — as simple as “race ya down the block!” — but in a way that makes people cheer for competition, hold their breath before the gun, or even get a flashback to their childhood running days.

We spend too much time in our heads as it is. Bring us into a felt, physical experience. That’ll give you more ROI then selling a $60 hat.

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Wondering how you got here? Hi, I’m Angie Lake! 👋 I’m a creative consultant and not-elite-just-enthusiastic athlete living in the mountains and rivers of Washington. I talk about the tough stuff — Blood, Sweat, and Fear — with the goal of building a happier, healthier world for women. You can check out all the ways to work with me here, or follow me on Instagram and LinkedIn.

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“Running this race was life-changing.”

A handful of women told me this at the end of Wild Woman 2026. I know the word “life-changing” can sound dramatic — but I also know it’s true, because I’ve lived it myself.

After crossing the finish line of my first 50k in 2021, many aspects of my life shifted dramatically (and ultimately for the better). It was a catalyst for ending a long-term relationship that was holding me back. For becoming my own boss. For setting goals I never thought were possible for someone like me. For making connections and friendships with women who would have intimidated me before.

This year, Wild Woman (the women’s event I host) had a record number of registered runners and quadrupled(!) the 50k field. More and more women are starting to realize that ultrarunning (and trail running in general) is more accessible than they thought. 🥹 Hallelujah.

Trail running can forever alter your brain chemistry. It melds mental challenge with physical challenge within a supportive community. And let me tell you, the community at Wild Woman this year was something else.

Women showed up alone and found dozens of other women immediately inviting them to sit and chat. Some registrants decided mid-weekend to go up in distance or add Sunday’s half marathon just to see what their body and mind could do. Women shared food, gear, and conversation for 3 days straight. One woman lost all her luggage on the flight in and had to borrow everything — including, at the last minute, a sports bra from one of the race directors. That just doesn’t happen at a traditional coed race.

And on Friday night, we all sat in a hay field at the base of sparkling Mt. Adams and listened to pro ultrarunner Rachel Entrekin share about how trail running has changed her life, too.

There have been words spanning generations that people use as weapons against women. They’ve called us “bossy” when we’re assertive, “arrogant” when we’re rightfully proud of our work, ”TMI” when we get vulnerable on taboo topics.

I asked Rachel to help us reclaim these words, to prove that some of these weaponized words are actually strengths that we can leverage as women and as runners.

Because I’m no longer interested in being a “good girl.” I want to be a Wild Woman. Here’s what Rachel shared.

On “bossy”: She said what looked like bossiness to other people was just knowing what she needed and asking for it directly. Take a race crew: Rachel spent her first Cocodona not knowing how to direct anyone, and her most recent one knowing exactly what she needed and saying so clearly. She learned to ask for help without apologizing for it (something we can all work on, huh?).

On “selfish”: Rachel pointed out that every time she toed the line at a multi-day race, she was asking people to give their time and energy to her personal goal. Technically “selfish,” sure. But she added: “If I don’t run, I become a type of person I don’t like.” Being selfish protects your integrity.

On “messy”: She was open about her history with eating disorders and what it’s like to be an athlete in a world that expects women to be “camera ready”. Rachel realized along the way that the messiest parts, the behind-the-scenes moments, are the ones most needed by women. We want to see the relatable but hidden sides of the sport.

On “arrogant”: Rachel’s been called arrogant on Reddit and YouTube, mostly by men. Her response: she won the race. That’s a fact, and “you can’t boo facts.” She also talked about removing the asterisks she placed next to her accomplishments. For years she’d qualify every feat (the weather was good, I got lucky, I had help). Eventually she just got tired of it. Be proud of what you do.

On being “TMI”: Rachel talked about being reluctant, early in her career, to talk publicly about her eating disorder history; not sure if podcasts were the place for it, not sure if it was relevant at all. But her conversations kept feeling incomplete when she left that part out. And the DMs she’s gotten from women saying “hearing you talk about this gives me hope”… She said, why would I withhold that? We need your “TMI” stories.

And then Rachel told us all about the most significant moment of her iconic Cocodona 250 2026 race. I’ll just let you listen for yourself here. 🎧

The one piece of advice Rachel gave to all of us wild women:

There’s going to be a moment during your race when things get hard. Make sure you like the person you are in that moment. In 2024, I didn’t, and I had to sit with that for a whole year. I don’t recommend it.

We recorded the whole 45 minute conversation between myself and Rachel so you can listen if you weren’t at Wild Woman IRL. We sat on haybales in front of hundreds of other women who also know that trail running can be life-changing. It was even more magical than it sounds… but that’s for the rest of this series to explore. :)

Listen to Rachel's interview

Send this interview to a woman runner in your life. 💞

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Wondering how you got here? Hi, I’m Angie Lake! 👋 I’m a creative consultant and not-elite-just-enthusiastic athlete living in the mountains and rivers of Washington. I talk about the tough stuff — Blood, Sweat, and Fear — with the goal of building a happier, healthier world for women. You can check out all the ways to work with me here, or follow me on Instagram and LinkedIn.

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Some of the raddest athletes and outdoor leaders I know are moms, and I’ve been so lucky to get to make some new friends through this little project. More than anything, it’s become clearer than ever to me that we need MORE CONVERSATIONS like this! More stories about the tougher, unseen parts of momhood and shifting identities and balancing risk and passion.

If you’re new here, hi 👋 — I’m a kid-curious 33 year old who wants a kid in the next couple years but who’s also scared of all the change that will come. Especially since I adore my random freedom bursts of “oooo it’s 1pm on a Wednesday and I wanna drop everything right now to go ski for an indeterminable amount of time on the side of a volcano.”

TBH… the conversations highlighted in this series only gave me more stoke and curiosity than I had before (and a liiittle less fear). Confirmation bias, sure, but can we also just celebrate how cool these folks are for blending their passions and parenthood?

Now, I’ll be closing this series and back to writing on other outdoorsy topics next week. But first, I wanted to share the questions that still linger in my mind after a fun month and a half of outdoorsy mom reflection time.

1. Is entrepreneurship the key to the lifestyle I seek? 💻

A majority of the women I interviewed are self-employed business owners. (Which is likely because I asked for folks to reach out on LinkedIn and as a self-employed girlie myself, that’s what the algo does, sorry.)

From starting a consulting biz while pregnant to building a community inspired by her own pregnancy to launching an app to filling a gap in the market based on what kids actually need… these women have problem-solved their way into a career that supports their outdoorsy lifestyle while having children.

A lot of these women started businesses during pregnancy or soon after becoming mothers. Which makes me wonder… is the W2 world so f’ed in its support for working moms that entrepreneurship is a safer, more fulfilling path forward to most?

When a system won’t bend to support your life changes, of course you’d think about creating something new to serve you better. You can, to an extent, build your own calendar, create your own policies, and be your own boss. Though of course, all of that comes with specific challenges, too. The problem is, there are countless parents out there who face barriers to entrepreneurship that we can’t change without systemic change. I’m relieved to see that my own entrepreneurship can help me balance my sports with parenthood, and also aware that that is an immense privilege.

2. When will media reflect the diverse stories and perspectives we hold and celebrate instead of shame them? 📰

Blehhhh, the shaming. Whether or not you’re a parent, people will outwardly shame you. One of my interviewees had been called selfish for spending time endurance training even before she had kids. One mom had friends too nervous to bike with her during pregnancy. Another wrote a NY Times essay and had people coming out of the woodwork to tell her she’s a terrible mom for taking her kids sailing.

But like… we all deserve to focus on our passions and raise children, if we so wish. And for some reason, when women juggle both, they get criticized. When I spoke with Majka Burhardt, she pointed out that “when women athletes die doing high-risk sports, the ‘children left behind’ story becomes the whole story. When men die doing the same sport, that’s like an addendum. There’s not this huge public outcry about it.” The judgment is asymmetrical.

I want media to share more and more stories about all the ways we can blend passion and parenthood. Bring the kid, leave the kid, skip the kid, keep your sport with the kid, give it up for the kid — we need to hear it all. Stories give us ideas and options that never existed before, and I hope that sharing them will lessen shame, too.

3. How can we enact policy change that we already know works? 🤝

Marina LeGree told me she’s lived inside two childcare systems. The first was the U.S. private market; she paid an in-home caregiver while making basically nothing in her nonprofit’s early years. It became unsustainable and she had to stop. The second was the U.S. military’s Child Development Centers, which her family qualified for once her husband was stationed somewhere with one. Sliding scale with reasonable pricing, high quality care you were happy to leave your kids with, etc. “It’s brilliant. We do this for our military members. So why do we not provide it to the rest of us?”

When a blueprint exists, of course I wonder why our country wouldn’t extend it to all (though I’m not surprised). But if the federal admin won’t do it, maybe there are pieces private companies could take and implement for workers?

4. What do the partners think? 💭

Of the folks who offered to speak with me, almost all of them are in long-term cis-het relationships (most married legally). So I’m aware my sample is limited in perspectives, but I still would love to pick the brains of partners of outdoor athletes. What’s it like for them to watch their co-parent do their sport despite risk and identity shifts and time crunches? How do they step up to support the others’ passion, and when do they need a hand?

5. How can we incorporate more “village” into our everyday? ❤️

I’m one of those classic millennials who dreams of communal living where all of us friends have tiny homes on a shared property in the forest and share one lawnmower and let our kids all hang out together while we all still get to have careers and fun time. Like, I think 90% of us dream of this… but society makes it near impossible.

So, how can we take elements of “the village,” of a communal living lifestyle, and sprinkle it into our family cultures so that everyone is even 5% happier and healthier? How can we support our neighbors and get support in return, so that all of us can enjoy mountain biking and know our kids are having fun across the street?

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And finally, for funsies: I asked a bunch of folks what their ONE piece of advice to me about the decision and preparation to move toward parenthood. 🗨️ Here’s what they said:

Liz: “Discover or cultivate hobbies and interests that you can do if you’re housebound. If you have a tough pregnancy and can’t be as active as you’d like to be, or for the immediate postpartum time when you have to rest a lot. Reading and walking are the two things that have saved me. Know what will give you life when you can’t do what you really want to be doing.”

Julie: “The mantra I had for myself when I was pregnant is: don’t let anyone else’s journey define your own. It’s important in every part of it to take someone else’s experience with a grain of salt. If someone would tell me a negative birth experience, or ‘just wait till you’re never getting out of the house,’ I think it’s so important to repeat that to yourself and just let your experience be your own. You define what your motherhood journey is going to be like.”

Marina: “Keep your eye on the prize that time passes. It’s really hard in those early years — the caretaking is so intense — and then as your child gets more and more capable, the fun factor just increases constantly. You get an adventure buddy for life. But my advice would be to make sure you have a network. You’re going to need it, whether it’s your spouse, partner, friends, family, neighbors. If you don’t have that, you won’t have time for yourself, and it’s really hard to keep a healthy balance.”

Jamie: “Bring your kid along, even for stroller jogs. They’re a part of the experience. You can share a lot of your experiences with your kid. Hiking backpacks, snowboarding lessons. Having your kid as part of your life brings a different level of joy and perspective. You don’t have to eliminate it. You’re just enhancing it with the kid.”

Jada: “Life freely starts once you have a kiddo in your life. The experiences that you love, you get to teach to somebody else. You get to mold them. It’s just beautiful seeing them grow up and become who they are.”

Jess “If your heart is telling you to go that way, do it. It’ll make you a more diverse person on the other side of it, and you’ll figure out what makes you happy. It’s a lifetime journey, not a checkmark. You have to continue to work at it. Not every day, but every once in a while, it’ll all line up and it’ll be great.”

Susan “Start getting pregnant right now. Because what are you going to get out of the next six months that’s so magically fulfilling that you’re going to be like — yes, now I’m ready? No. You’re still going to wonder if it’s time. Having the kid earlier means you’re going to rediscover your adventure selves afterwards, and you’re going to redefine your version of that. You can do just as much cool shit on the other side. You just have to be better at planning around it. You’re a good planner. You’ll be fine. Pull the goalie.” ←LOL great pep talk, Susan ;)

Julia Billings “If you want to have kids, have them. If you don’t, that’s okay too. There’s this pressure on women that motherhood is somehow the pinnacle of whatever, and I don’t believe that. Motherhood is great for people who want to have kids, and if you don’t, that’s totally cool. When you are ready, you will know. Trust your own intuition.”

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Wondering how you got here? Hi, I’m Angie Lake! 👋 I’m a creative consultant and not-elite-just-enthusiastic athlete living in the mountains and rivers of Washington. I talk about the tough stuff — Blood, Sweat, and Fear — with the goal of building a happier, healthier world for women. You can check out all the ways to work with me here, or follow me on Instagram and LinkedIn.

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It’s one of those links I bookmark and end up sending to at least two people a year. 15ish years ago, Cheryl Strayed answered a letter in her Dear Sugar advice column from a reader who could not decide whether to have children. Just read it if you have no idea what I’m talking about: The Ghost Ship That Didn’t Carry Us

The gist was this: every choice you make in your life launches a ghost ship, the version of you who made the other choice, sailing off toward the life you won’t live. You might see your ghost ships from the deck of the ship you’re on. Sometimes you mourn them, sometimes you don’t, and at the end of the day, you just don’t know what life is truly like on that other ship. Both ships will have unimaginable joys and sorrows.

As a 33 year old, currently childless person, I am in some ways standing at the harbor right now, deciding when or whether to try to step in a ship. I can see so much beauty and challenge built into each sister ship. And one ship calls to me more, right now. But I’m terrified of not knowing the version of me who could be a mom. How different is she compared to current me? What does she care about that she didn’t before? What slips away into the deep waters never to resurface?

When I interviewed outdoorsy moms, I felt a sense of ghost ships sailing alongside them, despite all of them having so much joy and love in their lives as parents. Ghost ships of bodies who didn’t have to negotiate training time, of brains thriving in a linear career track, of spirits that simply didn’t have to put others’ bodies and brains at such a high priority every day. I wanted to know how their self-identity shifted as they decided to step on one ship and sail onward.

So I asked outdoorsy moms: How did you think motherhood would change your relationship with your sport, and what actually happened? What versions/parts of yourself have you grieved changing or losing? How have you changed how you relate to your physical body in sports? Has motherhood made you braver in any way you didn’t expect? Here are some of my favorite conversation bits.

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Your Cells Literally Rearrange Themselves

Susan Elliott: 42, parent of 2 in Washington, co-author of Paddling America, co-director of Wild Woman Trail Runs

Kayaker and trail runner Susan mentioned a book, Matrescence, that takes its name from a word coined in the 70s to describe the developmental shifts of becoming a mother (like how adolescence describes becoming an adult). The book described “fetal microchimerism,” AKA how cells from a developing fetus migrate into the mother’s body during pregnancy and stay there for DECADES OR MAYBE FOREVER. Woah.

There are cells in Susan’s body today that originated from both her son and her daughter, and now they float around in her bloodstream, her organs, and, they think, possibly her brain.

“I am literally a different human being. I have different cellular function. And that makes total sense, because I’m now so attuned to them and what they need to shift my whole day to a play level, where you’re kind of bouncing around but you’re also calm and you’re focused. It’s a different mental load than anything else I’ve ever experienced or understood or seen.”

I deeply related to Susan’s example of her stream of consciousness: “Who am I? Am I having the impact I want on the world. But wait a minute, can’t I be selfish and do these things just because I love them and they bring me joy? Is that allowed? Am I going to be known and have a status in a career, or does that even matter?” And then Susan pointed out that despite all those swirling thoughts, motherhood has a way of snapping you into a “fuck all that” mentality, because you have less time to ponder and more time to take action. You get ridiculously good at prioritization and intentionality.

Even more confusing is the deep grief that can come with a desire for parenthood. Susan described a first trimester miscarriage that was more devastating than she’d thought it could be: “Mentally, you’d already started to prepare for this very big change in life. And then when you miscarry, you’re basically going back to who you were before. It’s like I was mourning a future that never even happened.”

My takeaway: Matrescence is not a metaphor. It is a physical, developmental, cellular rearrangement, and it’s constantly changing through age, miscarriage, more kids, reflection. It can rock your world, but also give you new superpowers.

Let Your Disco Alien Vibes Shine Through

Julie Bacon: 34, second kid on the way, in Truckee, founder of The Mothership Collective, a fast-growing community and storytelling platform for adventurous moms navigating motherhood. Follow the COOLEST Instagram account ever!

“I am Mom, but ultimately, I’m Julie.” As the founder of a community of feral moms, Julie described one of the reminders she and her community need to hear most often: Your identity as a human doesn’t need to be completely swallowed by motherhood.

“When you’re your most fulfilled, the more you let your own self shine through, the better parent you are. And I think that really rubs off on your kids. My daughter gets so excited about rafting and biking because she sees it light me and my husband up. She feels that energy.”

Identity can be shaken when the internet exists, though. The second Julie got pregnant, her algorithm tried to recruit her into the picture-perfect, color-matched, Target-core version of motherhood that would leave zero room left over for Julie. “I was like, is this what I need to become to be a mom?“

The Mothership is the antidote to that relentless algorithm. A place for the version of mom who shows up in her Crocs at the back of her van at the top of a mountain with a one year old in her arms.

My takeaway: I’ve gotten to chat with Julie more since we met, and we talked about the “disco alien vibes” that come through at her Mothership events. It’s not something that Target can sell you – but it’s something that tons of moms out there want to tap into to feel like themselves just as much as Mom. There’s room for both!

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Discover What Matters at Your Core and Act Accordingly

Jess Schisler: 40, parent of 2 in Ohio, endurance athlete, founder of Sunny Cubs sun protective clothing for babies and kids. Check out Sunny Cubs on IG!

Before triathlete Jess had kids, she was, by her own description, an ex-military, ex-sniper, hard-shelled person. Then her toddler son said “I love mama!” from the crib, and Jess, by her own admission, just about died.

“Now he says that, and I just melt, and… I’m softer. I’m more deliberate in the things I say, where I want to show up. I think that all came from the perspective of having humans.”

Paradoxically in a way I love, that “softer” version of Jess is the same version whose tolerance for shit she doesn’t care about dropped to zero. “These things I was doing to be nice, or the things I should do in terms of family events or hosting — I don’t give a fuck anymore. If I don’t feel like we’re friends, I’m not inviting you to my house anymore.”

90% of her pre-kids life was structured around getting validation, like from a coach saying you nailed it, a podium finish, or an FTP number ticking up.

But now, with two kids, she says she doesn’t get dopamine spikes as much from that kind of validation, but she gets more everyday-flavor dopamine. “It’s more genuine. I adore these little humans. It’s fascinating that I have created them in my body and now they’re outside.”

My takeaway: Matrescence can make your values crystal clear in a way you can’t ignore. You might melt at things you never did before, and you might step away from duties you tolerated before, all because you have a new sense of what to prioritize.

Body Image is Difficult in ALL Stages of Life

Majka Burhardt: 50, parent of twins in the mountains of New Hampshire, Patagonia-sponsored ice climber, author of More

Majka had twins and gained 70 lbs in the pregnancy. She described the body she’d had as a Patagonia-sponsored ice climber: “My six-pack was my shining glory as an athlete. Imagine what your stomach looks like when you move on from that, when your skin stretches out in these different ways.”

What surprised Majka about her own body image is when the hard feelings showed up. They didn’t actually show up during pregnancy. And she was able to put body image on a different shelf in her brain for the pregnancy and the nursing years ("I can’t worry about this when I’m nursing two humans”). But then a few years later, when she was no longer nursing, the body image talk came back into her brain.

“It’s been a surprise for me in the past couple years to have more body-image issues now than I did ever in that journey till now.”

My takeaway: Body-image conversation around motherhood is usually told as a during story. During pregnancy, during postpartum. But the actual reckoning, for a lot of women, can come years later.

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The Shifts You Experience Can Shape Your Career Future, Too

Julia Billings: Parent of 2 in Alaska, founder of Wildhaven Wools, a merino wool brand for kids focused on helping families spend more time outdoors. Follow the Wildhaven IG!

Entrepreneur and Alaskan athlete Julia described the first few years of parenthood as its own animal: “Before they’re, like, semi-autonomous beings, you’re in a tunnel. You don’t own your body anymore. It feels like a fog. But it’s all you know! And then all of a sudden you emerge out, and your kids are dressing themselves, and they can feed themselves all of a sudden. That’s when a lot of moms in my experience start to have a bit of an identity crisis.”

Who are you once the biological instincts and hormones of “can’t take my eyes of the kid” loosens?

For Julia, her emergence from the tunnel coincided with the recognition that she didn’t want to go back to her pre-kids career. She didn’t want to miss her kids growing, and on the other side of the tunnel she had a new identity to grow into.

Julia founded a kids’ outdoor clothing company built around the belief that “childhood is meant to be spent outdoors,” and she only arrived at that chapter by passing through the tunnel.

My takeaway: The first few years of motherhood may feel like a fog you can’t see out of, but there’s some kind of weird magic happening where when you emerge from that fog, you have bits of new identity to try on and play with.

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Wondering how you got here? Hi, I’m Angie Lake! 👋 I’m a creative consultant and not-elite-just-enthusiastic athlete living in the mountains and rivers of Washington. I talk about the tough stuff — Blood, Sweat, and Fear — with the goal of building a happier, healthier world for women. You can check out all the ways to work with me here, or follow me on Instagram and LinkedIn.

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Earlier this spring, I took my 4 year old nephew mountain biking. There’s an incredible play park in the middle of our extensive trail system here in the Gorge, so I figured we could park there, let him mess around on his strider bike for a few minutes until he got bored, then leave hopefully without many tears.

But we spent 4 hours there, biking nearly non-stop, both of us grinning. The kid LOVED it and strider-biked down features I do on my full-suspension!

An oopsie: Coming down a wooden ramp, my nephew accidentally dragged a foot and launched off his bike, supermanning to the ground a foot or two below him. I braced for a tantrum.

Instead, his breath picked up a bit. He rested on hands and knees, quiet. He brushed some dirt off his face. Then he looked up and assertively stated, “I need a little break.” He literally emotionally regulated himself in front of my own eyes.

After a minute, he was ready to go again, admitting the fall was scary but willing to try again. I truly saw myself in this 4 year old! I’m newer to the sport, too, and have had a few moments where I surely could’ve tantrum’ed from a fall but worked through it as a growth opportunity instead. It was SO FREAKING COOL to see the growth and reflection that outdoor sports foster occur in a kiddo in real time. But it made me wonder how you draw the line — what’s too risky? When do you know what’s age-appropriate? What if your kid doesn’t want to go mountain biking at all?

So I asked outdoorsy moms: How do you feel about your kid in the future taking the same outdoor risks you did, or do now? How can we foster a love of sport and exploration in the next gen? What do you hope your kid(s) takes from watching you outdoors? Here are some of my favorite conversation bits.

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Find Awe in Tiny Exploration and Play

Susan Elliott: 42, parent of 2 in Washington, co-author of Paddling America, co-director of Wild Woman Trail Runs

Susan lives in one of the most paddling-obsessed communities in the country and used to run Class V whitewater regularly. So people assumed her two kids (now 7 and 4) would grow up to be whitewater kayakers. Her older kid is not drawn to adrenaline sports at all. “And quite frankly, I’m stoked. Having water skills is huge, and we get to paddle around in some kayaks, but I don’t need them to be, nor do I even want them to be, whitewater kayakers.”

What Susan does want for her kids is still an adventurous outdoor spirit, but different from the adrenaline path she chose at seventeen. She and her husband are aiming for a family culture of being able to be outside for multi-day stretches, including backcountry river rafting, camping, and backpacking. “We want them to have the appreciation and the ability to just enjoy multiple days in the outdoors.”

That ambition extends to the attitude they have when they engage with the outdoors. Susan contrasted her former paddling self with the parent she is now:

She’s moved from an ethos of “push and explore” to “play and explore.”

“It’s like instead of exploring big landscapes, we’re exploring tiny landscapes, tiny creeks. We’re enjoying the smells of it, the feel of it, these tinier things.”

My takeaway: Wanting your kid to inherit a love of being outside is not the same as wanting them to inherit your specific sport. And, backcountry competency is a wonderful skillset to foster, regardless of whether the kids choose to pursue adrenaline sports.

Engage Kids in the Adventure Planning

Caroline Van Hemert: parent of 2, author of The Sun is a Compass

Caroline’s kids have lived for stretches at a remote log cabin she and her husband built by hand with boat-only access. They’ve sailed the Inside Passage from Washington to Southeast Alaska. What Caroline noticed is how much agency her kids take inside the adventure.

“They’ve been totally game, and they see themselves as essential pieces of the adventure.”

“They don’t think of themselves as tagalongs. They think they’re as important in the process as we as parents are.”

The thing Caroline most wants them to take from watching her family sail and explore together is presence. “That whole idea of being bored is not a thing when you’re out in the world. That sense of being present seems to me like an incredible gift, for all of us. And as much as we can cultivate that for ourselves and for kids, it really opens up that way of being in the world.”

My takeaway: When you bring kids into the adventure as full participants rather than as passengers, they show up stoked and ready to learn and participate.

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Find Moments for Your Kids to Support Your Own Goals

Jess Schisler: 40, parent of 2 in Ohio, endurance athlete, founder of Sunny Cubs sun protective clothing for babies and kids. Check out Sunny Cubs on IG!

Triathlete Jess has a four-year-old daughter: “My daughter is me. It’s so scary.” What Jess actively wants her to take from watching is the temperament of an athlete, not necessarily the specific sport.

“How do I help the next generation know that they can do hard things? Sometimes it’s pushing them to do it. Other times it’s showing them that you can do it.”

The way she does the “showing” is to include her kids in the doing. Her daughter remembers Jess’s Chicago race since she was there, made a sign with her dad, and cheered.

“When I do another half Ironman or another full Ironman, having them incorporated in it is really important to me.”

My takeaway: What you pass along to your kid might not be the sport itself. It’s the way you handle the unglamorous middle of doing the sport. “How do I keep myself feeling proud of who I am, but how do I make my kids proud, too?”

Building Resiliency is More Valuable than Staying Sheltered

Majka Burhardt: 50, parent of twins in the mountains of New Hampshire, Patagonia-sponsored ice climber, author of More

“We are careful about how much we expose them to climbing, and make sure it’s something that they really want to do. And that’s been like that from the beginning.”

When we spoke a couple years ago, Majka’s twins had recently been ice climbing for the first time. They loved it and wanted more. “If climbing becomes something that they personally want to keep pursuing, then I think we need to tuck in for the ride and help them be as safe as possible.”

What Majka really wants is to teach her kids the meta-skill that lets them choose any of the risks they want without getting hurt by them. “Our job as parents is how do we support not to be safe, but to be resilient. So that they can then make choices and take care of themselves, not to shelter them.”

She extends the same frame to the non-physical risks of being a kid in the 2020’s: social media, screens, peer dynamics...

“Whether it’s social media or quote-unquote extreme sport, we should be equipping them to be able to do that well.”

My takeaway: The goal isn’t a kid who never gets hurt. The goal is a kid who can handle the world. Resilience > sheltering. The world has enough risks indoors.

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“What Did the Jungle Teach You Today?”

Tamara Jacobi: parent of 2, lives seasonally between San Pancho, Mexico and Colorado, founder of Tailwind Jungle Lodge and author of Wildpreneurs

There’s a sign on the door at the entrance to the palapa area at Tailwind Jungle Lodge that reads: What did the jungle teach you today?

She put it up as much for the adults as for the kids. Living in the Mexican jungle with two small children means daily exposure to wildlife, ocean, terrain, and a hundred small hazards no parent who grew up in the suburbs is intuitively trained to navigate.

“The wildlife experience and the risk that comes with having little kids at a lodge of this nature with a lot of railings and stairs… a lot of hazards that they need to learn about from a very early age. So we’re educating them about wilderness living on a daily basis.”

What Tamara wants her kids to take from growing up in this environment is the same thing she wants her adult guests to take: “The jungle does have a way of pushing you out of your comfort zone regularly. And I think it’s a really healthy thing.”

She intentionally steers her kids away from the more-is-more material culture of American childhood and toward experiences as the source of value. “I’m trying to focus on experiences as the value in our life right now. The experiences we can have in San Pancho can be simple but profound. We pick up the kids and we’ll go biking in the plaza, around and around, and there’s artists making murals, and they’re just taking in the culture.”

My takeaway: Sports and outdoor adventure are more valuable when kids reflect on what they learned and how they felt. Turns out, that’s true for adults, too! ;)

Getting Outside is Non-Negotiable, But They Choose How

Julia Billings: Parent of 2 in Alaska, founder of Wildhaven Wools, a merino wool brand for kids focused on helping families spend more time outdoors. Follow the Wildhaven IG!

Julia’s family rule is that they don’t get to opt out of going outside. “It’s not really a choice whether we’re going to go outside every day. We just go outside every day. And if you do that from when they’re really little, then it’s less of a thing.”

But that doesn’t mean the stoke is always off-the-charts. “The kids like backcountry skiing, but they don’t tend to wake up in the morning and say, I want to go skiing today. Trying to find the balance of letting them like it on their own without pushing too hard. You can’t push them. Pressure on people isn’t very healthy; you’ll just want to rebel and play video games all day.”

Julia’s rather hands-off about what they do. She’s a free-play advocate, so she’ll send a kid out in a raincoat and tell them to go sit in the grass as an option.

It’s less about what they’re doing and more about getting out there as a part of family culture.

Julia also told me her kids have different relationships with risk. “I’ve got one kid who’s, like, very low risk tolerance. They’re happy on the ground, they don’t even want to climb the tree. And then I’ve got one kid that will climb to the top of the tree, and then wants to try and jump off.”

Regardless of the kid, Julia hopes they develop a full sense of the risk cycle, including the part where they realize they’ve gone too far. “Climbing trees and realizing you’re too high is a really important thing for a kid to do. That full cycle of taking a risk and figuring out where their individual risk tolerance is.”

My takeaway: Two kids in the same family may arrive at different risk tolerances no matter what you do. But a great gift to give them is the default of being outside, and the chance to figure out for themselves where their own line is.

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Wondering how you got here? Hi, I’m Angie Lake! 👋 I’m a creative consultant and not-elite-just-enthusiastic athlete living in the mountains and rivers of Washington. I talk about the tough stuff — Blood, Sweat, and Fear — with the goal of building a happier, healthier world for women. You can check out all the ways to work with me here, or follow me on Instagram and LinkedIn.

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Last summer at Wild Woman Trail Runs, I watched a woman anchoring her relay team about to cross the finish line. Right before the arch, someone handed the runner her eight-week-old baby. I snapped a photo as she crossed the finish, one arm in the air in triumph, the other cradling her newborn.

The image stuck in my head as a symbol of power and inspiration. And also as a question of how the heck? Sure, a relay leg is the shortest distance we offer at race weekend, but it’s also a huge feat to take part in an official race 2 months after you have a baby!

I’ve always had a belief that we can have it all — just not all at once. You can run a race a few weeks postpartum, but that likely won’t be your fastest race. You can fit in a mountain bike ride before your kids get home from school, but it might be half the distance you really want. You can wake up early to summit a volcano, but you won’t get the full night of sleep. Trade-offs.

The algorithm tries to sell you on a motherhood image that has it all: Pelvic floor recovered in under 12 weeks! Six-pack abs as you breastfeed! Marathon trail run that magically fits into nap time! The true version is messier, more individual, and constantly being renegotiated. You can’t have it all at once.

So I asked outdoorsy moms: How do you prioritize your sports? Does that ever conflict with your family obligations? Do you ever feel resentment? What’s something nobody warned you about the reality of keeping adventure in your life as a parent? Here are some of my favorite conversation bits.

Build Training Time into the Daily Schedule

Jamie: 37, parent of 1 in Washington, founder of an e-commerce consulting biz

Jamie has a daily window. Every weekday afternoon, for 1.5-2 focused hours, she trains. The window is non-negotiable and fully protected.

“This is when we have childcare. This is when there’s coverage. This is when I’m always going to train. That’s a non-negotiable.”

Jamie can defend that window because she controls her own calendar. She started her e-commerce consulting business while pregnant, and one of the things she explicitly built into the business was a schedule with no manager. Her clients see her time blocks. They don’t know what’s inside them.

“If they ask, I’ll tell them. They know that I’m passionate about it. So most of them respect that that’s a big part of my identity.”

The work that doesn’t get done during the afternoon block gets done after her daughter goes to bed. The training itself happens in a home garage gym with her two-year-old daughter underfoot, sometimes riding on the sled, sometimes on Jamie’s shoulders during pull-ups, and sometimes just running laps herself around the gym.

The daily window protects Jamie the athlete. To protect Jamie the person outside of mothering, she and her husband added a second structural piece — Me Nights every two or three weeks, where each of them takes a solo evening to do whatever they want. They protect each other’s me nights the way Jamie protects her training block, “to still feel like an independent human without a kid.”

My takeaway: Intentionally crafting the daily family schedule (and getting everyone on board) helps you protect your passion time both as an athlete and as a human. Protect that window!

Weigh the Trade-Offs and Plan Around Them

Liz Ryan: 39 in Seattle, writer and coach helping people realign their time with what matters most. See her work here and find Liz on LinkedIn and Substack. She’s awesome.

Before Liz had kids, she and her husband made a pact: they were not going to be the kind of parents whose lives revolved around their kids. Then their daughter showed up and they were surprised.

“What we didn’t expect is that we like hanging out with our kids more than we thought we would. Our 3 year old is an absolute hoot. So on a Saturday when we might choose to be climbing or running, it is a harder decision to make, because we also want to be with her more than we expected to.”

For the first couple years of her daughter’s life, Liz chose neighborhood stroller runs over trail runs in the Cascades.

“I missed the mountain running, but not enough to sacrifice the time with my kid… I was able to run, which I loved, and I was able to hang out with my daughter, which I love. So it was like killing two birds with one stone.”

Liz’s husband has a different approach: he plans ~5 big climbing trips a year with his friends and opts for that split instead of spreading out smaller trips over more weekends. What they both miss is spending time outdoors together, as a couple. One solution is a mid-week PTO day taken together while their daughter is in childcare.

As a values-based time management coach herself, Liz seems to be a natural at swapping the question how do I fit more in? with what do I actually want to be doing with this hour?

My takeaway: Some parents might choose to kill two birds with one stone with their hobbies. Others might choose bigger and fewer trips away rather than shorter and more frequent ones. Weigh the trade-offs and choose what feels great for this season.

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A Quarterback Still Needs the Rest of the Team

Marina LeGree: 47, parent of 2 in Maine, founder and executive director of Ascend Athletics, a nonprofit getting Afghan and Pakistani women into the mountains

Marina’s Navy husband deployed three weeks after their second son was born and was gone for the next eight months. Marina was solo with a newborn and a fifteen-month-old, with no family in town, no support network, and a nonprofit she was trying to start. In that era of life, “prioritizing my own hobbies was off the table.”

Now her boys are nine and ten and her time is opening up in a really fun way. They’re her adventure buddies on gravel bike rides, the family’s first adventure race is coming up this summer, and an overnight kayak trip’s in the works. Marina mentioned several times how fun it’s been, that the “fun factor just increases constantly” with her kids’ ages. But I asked Marina the question I’d been nervous to ask anyone — whether she’d ever resented her family for the constraints.

“I’d be lying if I said I never resented kids, family and household for constraints, because that’s the other thing with parenting; it’s a constant mental load, not to mention you’re (at least in my case) quarterbacking the household.”

As a household quarterback, the way Marina got others in her life to start running plays for her was building a network. Spouse, friends, family, neighbors… they all got a role on the team she was leading.

“Make sure you have a network. You’re going to need it. If you don’t have that, you won’t have time for yourself, and it’s really hard to keep a healthy balance.”

My takeaway: Who you choose to play the game of life with matters. Even if you’re the QB setting up the plays, you need your teammates to know their jobs, too.

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Embrace Enoughness

Tamara Jacobi: parent of 2, lives seasonally between San Pancho, Mexico and Colorado, founder of Tailwind Jungle Lodge and author of Wildpreneurs

Tamara’s family packs and unpacks their lives twice a year for winters in the Mexican jungle running her lodge and summers in the Colorado Rockies where she met her husband. With a hospitality business, two little kids on the move with them, a book, and even a startup job, Tamara keeps her year full.

“I realized that I have, through the years, created an abundance of work for myself: all of the things that I love to do, the lodge, the book, the start-up, becoming a mother. And it comes together to be quite a lot. I have enough.”

“And it’s probably time to start saying no to some things and creating space again.”

Tamara told me about a parable she keeps close: the Mexican fisherman who catches a few fish, brings them home for his family, sells the rest, and spends the afternoon in his hammock. A businessman shows up and tells him he could grow the business, get more boats, hire more fishermen, eventually have so much money he could afford to sit in his hammock. The fisherman says, “but that’s what I’m already doing.”

Now she’s applying the same logic to her own workload. She’s handing the lodge logistics over to her husband. She’s giving herself room to sit and breathe.

“The compass that I really follow is, I want to make sure that the inspiration is still flowing. If you get to the place of burnout, then you get stuck.”

My takeaway: Even when you love every single project you own, it can be too much on the plate. When building a life of passion, instead of thinking what could I add?, consider what would I be willing to set down for a season?

Parenting is Easier Outside

Julie Bacon: 34, second kid on the way, in Truckee, founder of The Mothership Collective, a fast-growing community and storytelling platform for adventurous moms navigating motherhood. Follow the COOLEST Instagram account ever!

Julie’s first daughter was an easy pregnancy and a fast recovery. She was snowboarding at four weeks postpartum and biking at six, which for many parents is a dream, but it still was tough!

“There’s resentment you can feel when you have to wait months to go ride your bike because you physically aren’t allowed to yet by your doctor… You’re the one that’s giving everything from your body for this child... You’ve already gone through ten months of pregnancy, and then you’ve got another trimester of recovery and soreness, and you have no idea what to do with the baby, a newborn baby yet, and not sleeping, and not having your outlets. It’s really challenging.”

Now, with one daughter running around and another on the way, she brings her kid pretty much everywhere they go. "She's been on overnight rafting trips with us. She goes mountain biking with us. We take her backpacking, car camping.”

“Pretty much any chance we can take her on anything we’re doing, we’re taking her.”

Julie added that “it’s easier to parent outside. “They’re so entertained by nature, and they get so tired out in the best way, even by the sun and the wind. We definitely take time for our independent selves, but she already has stoke for being outside.”

My takeaway: It’s not going to feel “fair” in the fourth trimester, when you want to be able to do what you love but your body’s going through so much. Getting outside with your kid can make it feel better.

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Make Your Needs Clear

Jess Schisler: 40, parent of 2 in Ohio, endurance athlete, founder of Sunny Cubs sun protective clothing for babies and kids. Check out Sunny Cubs on IG!

The first race Jess signed up for after having her daughter, she had to cancel. The training schedule she’d used successfully for years pre-kids didn’t survive the addition of a tiny human, a husband who also runs a business, and a lack of reliable sleep.

What got her back to the start line last year, she realized, “I was able to dedicate more training time by chatting honestly with my husband, like, I need you to be home by this time so I can leave to train. It sounds so obvious, but he’s also an entrepreneur, so it’s not like he’s done at five and can come home and make dinner.”

Jess also takes one or two solo trips a year to be on her own or travel with friends. “My husband supports it and knows I’m just better when I come back. I’m like, peace out, there’s leftovers in the fridge, you’ll figure it out.” But she acknowledges that others can find it startling for a mom to head out solo.

An in-law asked: “Is everything okay? Are you guys, like, working through something?” Jess says, “We’re great. That’s why I’m leaving.”

My takeaway: Be specific in your asks from your co-parent. If you need them to be home at a certain time so you can train, communicate it clearly.

Be Present Exactly Where You Are

Majka Burhardt: 50, parent of twins in the mountains of New Hampshire, Patagonia-sponsored ice climber, author of More

Majka’s a professional ice climber. Her winters are not infinite. Yet, twice a week through the winter, instead of climbing, she’s booted up on the snow, coaching her kids skiing. She’s chosen to be on the snow with her kids during prime ice season.

“This winter might be a little less climbing for me. I might have to work a little harder to get my climbing in the other days. And sometimes I might blow it because I might not have a partner. The ice might not be in as good condition. But come hell or high water at noon, I’m going to be booted and suited and ready to go downhill skiing with you, because I’m going to figure out a way to show up.”

The other half of Majka’s juggle is the one most couples avoid having the explicit conversation about. She and her husband had to actively redistribute household labor since the twins were born, and Majka is honest that her career dramatically changed with pregnancy while his didn’t.

“Talk about that stuff. Even if you think that it’s all fine and there aren’t issues, actually have a conversation about who’s doing what and what expectations might be. I wish that I had practiced that before it mattered.”

“When you have no time for it, your fuse is shorter, your ability to be your highest self in that conversation is so slim, but your need to be your highest self is so big.” She recommends Eve Rodsky’s Fair Play as the system she wishes she’d known about earlier. (Adding to cart.)

My takeaway: Making decisive choices can help you find peace in the chaos, whether it’s deciding to ease off one sport to spend time with kids in another sport, or whether it’s intentionally dividing out household labor so it’s clear who is in charge of what.

Build an Outdoorsy Family Culture

Julia Billings: Parent of 2 in Alaska, founder of Wildhaven Wools, a merino wool brand for kids focused on helping families spend more time outdoors. Follow the Wildhaven IG!

Julia’s pre-kids career involved flying around in helicopters and hiking as an exploration geologist. The work used to take her into the field for months at a time, and, living in Alaska, there’s no shortage of places to explore.

So when it comes to building in outdoor time into a busy family life, she has a simple answer. She takes the kids along.

“We haven’t really changed that much of what we do.”

“My advice to people who like doing stuff outdoors is to just take your kid with you. When we go hiking, my kids have their own backpacks. Ever since they could walk, we would give them a backpack. They carry their own snacks, they carry their own water. They learn that that’s just part of the deal.”

When she and her husband want time alone (including time skiing together, which has gotten harder), they trade kids with friends in town. “Community, I really think, is one of the things that having kids helped me build.”

Julia also left me with an invitation as I described my fears of losing my time for passions if I became a parent:

“I don’t think it has to be that you’re gonna lose something. Maybe you’ll actually gain something.”

My takeaway: Build the outdoors into your family culture, and it might be easier to prioritize. Give kids responsibility as they progress in sports. and lean on your neighborhood to help you protect your passion time.

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Wondering how you got here? Hi, I’m Angie Lake! 👋 I’m a creative consultant and not-elite-just-enthusiastic athlete living in the mountains and rivers of Washington. I talk about the tough stuff — Blood, Sweat, and Fear — with the goal of building a happier, healthier world for women. You can check out all the ways to work with me here, or follow me on Instagram and LinkedIn.

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Deep in the Italian Dolomites last September, I was hiking my way to a rifugio, imagining the cold Aperol I’d celebrate with shortly. Suddenly, two bikes zoomed by and started bounding downhill. Both bikes had an adult on the pedals — and toddlers sitting by the handlebars! Immediately, I thought, “That’s the type of parent I’d want to be, gravel biking through the Alps to places I could’ve never dreamed of as a kid.”

I’ve been gathering bits of adventure-family inspiration like that over the years. On my trek to Everest Base Camp, I met a family of 5 hiking at 16,000’ in elevation, with 3 kids under 12 including a baby in a carrier. My own partner went on his first backcountry whitewater river trip at just 2 years old.

All of those parents were role models to me, the type of parent I wanted to imagine myself becoming. And yet… all of them have faced criticism from others — both strangers and loved ones — about their decisions to expose their kids (and themselves) to risk.

So I asked outdoorsy moms: What were you willing to sacrifice for your sport before vs. after motherhood? Does your risk tolerance shift? Do you stop your sport? Alter it? Keep going at the same level? Take the kids along? Here are some of my favorite conversation bits.

Risk is Fluid in an Athlete’s Pregnancy

Julie Bacon: 34, second kid on the way, in Truckee, founder of The Mothership Collective, a fast-growing community and storytelling platform for adventurous moms navigating motherhood. Follow the COOLEST Instagram account ever!

Julie was mountain biking until five days before her first daughter was born. She also said her first pregnancy was a roller coaster:

“I’d have days where I’d go on a 20 mile mountain bike ride and feel super confident in both climbing and technical downhill with a belly. And then the next day a stick would get caught in my tire, and it would trigger me to feel more comfortable gravel riding, and so I’d go on big gravel rides. And then I’d come back to mountain biking, or I’d go to my trainer… It was a very fluid thing for me.”

Julie knew her body’s fluency. She knew what confident mountain biking felt like, what she could feel shifting, what her body knew how to do within her risk tolerance. At the same time, she says she had a couple friends who were uncomfortable biking with her when she was later in pregnancy, even when she felt confident biking:

“It’s funny when you’re really comfortable with a sport. I felt more nervous to hike and walk than I did biking.”

Still, Julie’s self-awareness led to certain precautions: ““I relegated myself to the back of the pack for most activities because I knew I would push myself too hard if I was near the front.”

My takeaway: Pregnancy risk math isn’t an obvious equation. It’s fluid, day by day, and even the sport you trust most can shift overnight.

“Kids are Made of Plastic, Not Glass”

Jada: 42, parent of 2 in Missouri, founder of Adventure Passport (check out the app!)

This family is on a quest to visit all 50 US states before the end of high school. (They’re 35 in right now!) This one line sums up their adventurous lifestyle:

“We teach our kids how to do dangerous things safely.”

Jada told me that she’s “the most extreme moderate person you’ll ever meet.” When it comes to risk taking, she knows her threshold. She doesn’t go over it and she doesn’t go under it. When her two boys (14 + 12) want to do an outdoor activity that’s over her threshold, she simply taps out for the day and her husband takes over, so she doesn’t squash their own adventurism.

“People who don’t understand what actual living is want to say that they went outside, but they don’t want to actually do it because it’s scary. In reality, it’s not that scary. Accidents happen every day in the world, and we would much rather our kids be fully living than being wrapped in bubble. My kids had three broken arms in under 10 years. They grow back. Parents sometimes think that their kids are made of glass instead of plastic.”

Another family motto Jada used: “We don’t buy shrines.” Meaning, they use their gear and get it dirty and worn out and fully used. There are no precious objects; use the adventure gear for what it’s made for. LOVE.

My takeaway: Bodies and gear are meant to be truly, deeply lived in. It’s easy to get overprotective of yourself and your family, but the greatest growth comes from truly living, despite the presence of risk.

Bravery is Built into Family Decision-Making

Marina LeGree: 47, parent of 2 in Maine, founder and executive director of Ascend Athletics, a nonprofit getting Afghan and Pakistani women into the mountains

Marina flew into Afghanistan’s Hindu Kush mountain range while six months pregnant with her first son. The pilots gave her supplemental oxygen at altitude and she obeyed the under-10,000-feet rule on the mountain itself. She didn’t stop her work.

“I‘m hoping that what my kids take from watching me do what I do is it’s worth it to take risks for certain things to understand the risks and then go for it. Traveling to Afghanistan and rock climbing is making an impact on girls lives, and I think it’s important. And living safely all the time is not the goal.”

“I want to cultivate bravery and courage in them, however that applies to whatever they decide to do.”

When I asked Marina how she’s parenting now (boys are 9 and 10), she mentioned that family life centers on sports. Her older son opts for high-stress positions like pitcher and goalie, and they’ve been discussing his passion for football on a risk level, since her husband has lasting football injuries that are slowing him down many years later.

The family keeps an Encyclopedia of the Body on the kitchen table and looks up injuries with the boys over breakfast. “I want them to understand what a blessing it is to have a fit body when you’re 10 years old and everything works the way it’s supposed to work, and then make good decisions accordingly.”

My takeaway: We can cultivate bravery in our kids by by modeling it ourselves and by welcoming them into the risk conversation.

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Risk Can Be Redistributed to Other Realms

Jamie: 37, parent of 1 in Washington, founder of an e-commerce consulting biz

When I asked Jamie how her risk tolerance had changed after becoming a mom, she told me she’d rate herself a “7/10 pre-birth, and a 7/10 post-birth, but in different ways.”

Her injury-risk tolerance went down: she trimmed snowboarding and the more strenuous trail runs, because she always seemed injury-prone in those sports. Meanwhile, her career-risk tolerance went up. She started her business while pregnant, and took bigger swings at her work, because she wants her daughter to see what it looks like to bet on yourself.

“Some risk is going up and some risk is going down, in different facets.”

Jamie said she doesn’t miss any extreme sports much. The gratification she gets from her day-to-day HYROX training at home in her garage gym, with her two-year-old daughter running around (and sometimes riding on the sled while Jamie pulls), outweighs the dopamine spikes she used to chase outdoors.

“While my day to day training is what people would call more boring than cool outdoor sports, I do think there’s more joy and gratification.”

My takeaway: Shifting your focus away from certain sports or risks can allow space to take risks in other avenues, like in career, at least temporarily.

Risk Tolerance Might Not Change Much After Kids

Liz Ryan: 39 in Seattle, writer and coach helping people realign their time with what matters most. See her work here and find Liz on LinkedIn and Substack. She’s awesome.

I chatted with Liz when her kids were 3 years old and just 11 weeks old! As she held her sweet baby over Zoom, I asked how her risk math had shifted after kids. Her answer was: it kind of hadn’t.

“I have a low risk threshold anyway. Being on Mount Rainier is a risky activity. So aside from that baseline risk, I wouldn’t push a weather window. Or if something looks sketchy, I probably choose the conservative option. But that was true before kids, too.”

Liz climbed Mount Rainier with her husband in 2018, did the four-month mountaineering course right after, and got deep into trail running and 50K runs. Her risk math was conservative going in. What changed wasn’t her draw to riskiness, but her free time and the long road back to the fitness she needs to do higher-risk activities well. (More on that in another essay!)

Living in Seattle, this family has access to great outdoor parks. But right now, choosing the close park (Discovery Park) over the iconic one (Mt. Rainier National Park) is a logistical decision. She can’t afford to spend two and a half hours driving to Rainier for a parking-lot hike with a toddler when Discovery Park is ten minutes away.

My takeaway: Not every shift that gets attributed to motherhood is actually about motherhood. Sometimes the values were already there and simply not questioned.

When Anxiety Replaces Adrenaline, It’s Time to Shift

Susan Elliott: 42, parent of 2 in Washington, co-author of Paddling America, co-director of Wild Woman Trail Runs

Susan’s risk shift around hard whitewater started years before parenthood. “Before I even thought about having kids, I had had some really intense experiences with friends dying, and I started to panic more in whitewater than [feeling] adrenaline.”

During her first pregnancy she stuck to mellower water. After her daughter was born, Susan briefly came back to harder runs. There was a moment of Wow, I don’t have another human in my body anymore!, and she chased it. But logistics caught up. To feel safe in class V you need a lot of days on the water, and a lot of days on the water aren’t compatible with two kids and a household. These days, Susan runs trails for long hours instead.

“I fell in love with running and endurance since having kids. I need to just get my zoomies out.”

She adds that endurance helps her nervous system, which is overtaxed these days. “You have to manage it in ways that I would have never before parenthood. The word nervous system wasn’t even in my vocabulary before the kids were born.”

My takeaway: Sometimes the shift we name as motherhood starts years earlier, and parenthood gives us the nudge to try something new.

No Matter What You Do, People Will Judge You

Caroline Van Hemert: parent of 2, author of The Sun is a Compass

When I spoke with Caroline years ago, she was mid-trip taking her 7 and 9 year old on a sailboat trip from Greece to Greenland. She reflected on a prior trip, sailing the Inside Passage as a family:

“I had no idea how inflammatory parenting is.”

“I wrote a piece for the New York Times, my first big article in a mainstream outlet. I thought, Oh, I wrote this nice little story about my kids and new experiences we had in this body of water that I have all these other connections to and have done various kinds of trips on. It’s a magical place. I’m talking about toddlers and dirty diapers and whatever, managing that while on a boat… and the people who came out of the woodwork to tell me what a terrible parent I was!”

The vicious feedback caught her completely off guard — but once it landed, it made her realize something she’d already half-known. She was operating with a totally different sense of what’s dangerous for kids than her readers were.

“I don’t think that taking a kid on a boat is far more hazardous thing than driving a kid down a freeway. They’re just different perceptions of risk.”

My takeaway: Do what’s best for your family, and live your life to your values. Haters gonna hate no matter what.

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Wondering how you got here? Hi, I’m Angie Lake! 👋 I’m a creative consultant and not-elite-just-enthusiastic athlete living in the mountains and rivers of Washington. I talk about the tough stuff — Blood, Sweat, and Fear — with the goal of building a happier, healthier world for women. You can check out all the ways to work with me here, or follow me on Instagram and LinkedIn.

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I have a looming fear that I will lose so much of what I love if/when I decide to become a mother.

My hobbies involve driving up a mountain to go get lost on a bike for 4 hours and not having to feed another human on a schedule. I love popping out of the house on a Wednesday and head up to the ski resort without telling anyone how long I’ll be gone. I’m a sucker for a “let’s run a marathon with 10k of vert today just because we can and have nothing pressing to do” days. How could my chosen lifestyle possibly fit a baby?

But I’ve been fascinated by pregnancy and birth for 9 years now, ever since my IUD failed and a (at first misdiagnosed) ectopic pregnancy nearly killed me. I mentally healed by learning all I could about my reproductive system. And my brain was blown away by it.

I trained to become a birth + fertility doula. (But realized I didn’t want to be on-call for work.) I listened to birth story podcasts. (Still do!) I read dozens of books for expectant parents even though I’ve never been an expectant parent.

Now I’m 33, and I’m like… should I try to become an expectant parent in the next year?! I’ve been calling it “kid-curious.” And when I’m curious, I ask friends and strangers many questions.

So I went to LinkedIn and asked the world to find me moms who were willing to talk about what it’s like to have a lifestyle shaped by outdoor sports… and then become a parent. I wanted to know:

• What were you willing to sacrifice for your sport before vs. after motherhood?

• How did your relationship to physical risk shift?

• How do you prioritize your passions now, against family obligations?

• How do you raise adventurous kiddos?

• Do you grieve shifting versions of yourself?

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And guess what — strangers (and friends) were willing to talk to me!!! I got their permission to record our 1:1 calls and told each of them that I wasn’t sure yet what I was going to do with our conversation but that it’d be something between journalistic research and a pep talk letter to myself. And here we are. No black-and-white answers, but a bunch of incredible, relatable, honest stories from women who get my fears.

One of the moms I spoke with made her last trip to the mountains at six months pregnant, in a chartered plane over the Hindu Kush, with the pilots feeding her oxygen so the baby wouldn’t go without. One was lifting heavy and mountain biking five days before her first daughter was born. One scored herself a 7 out of 10 risk tolerance before kids, and a 7 out of 10 after, but in a different way. One is taking her kids on a fifty-state adventure quest. One was laid off the day after her son was born. One never wanted kids. One never wanted not to have them.

Over the next few weeks, I’ll share essays I’ve drafted from these conversations.

These five upcoming essays aren’t me trying to talk myself into a kid or out of one.

So “fence sitters,” I’m sorry I can’t be of more help — but I do think these will provide a fresh perspective on what’s possible for us all.

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I’m excited to dig in with you, and hope you’ll shoot me a message if anything sparks some big thoughts for ya.

-Angie

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Wondering how you got here? Hi, I’m Angie Lake! 👋 I’m a creative consultant and not-elite-just-enthusiastic athlete living in the mountains and rivers of Washington. I talk about the tough stuff — Blood, Sweat, and Fear — with the goal of building a happier, healthier world for women. You can check out all the ways to work with me here, or follow me on Instagram and LinkedIn.

Upcoming events + opps

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She took the lead after 60 (of 250) miles and never looked back. She cat-napped in the dirt for five-ish minutes at a time. She stopped to pet that dog. She finished with an outright win and an overall course record, then stuck around for hours to cheer on the other finishers. 🥹

I’ve been a women’s trail running advocate for a long time. (I co-direct a race just for women!) And I can tell you: I have never seen the world, especially women, this lit up about trail running. Rachel’s making massive physical and mental challenges feel possible in a way that trickles all the way down to first-timers who’ve never toed a start line.

Most of us will never run 250 miles. Most of us are not Rachel Entrekin, and we are never going to be, and that’s great, because what makes Rachel’s story so culturally explosive is not her splits. It’s her uncommon honesty, her willingness to call her shots, her stoke to spend a few extra precious seconds petting a dog, because, “priorities.”

It’s her bravery in talking publicly about her time in eating disorder treatment. It’s her admission that she’s spent too long adding a figurative “asterisk” to all her achievements, but she wants to stop downplaying her work. It’s her no-secrets, love-for-others attitude that makes her so relatable and admirable.

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You don’t need to run 250 miles in 56 hours to develop that kind of storytelling.

This year, I created something I’m already damn proud of: the First 50k Sisterhood, a scholarship program through The Cairn Project where 15 women will run their first ultramarathon at Wild Woman Trail Runs in June. 💪

Rachel is returning to speak at Wild Woman this year(!). I especially cannot wait for these 15 women to hang with her IRL.

But I also want you to her these 15 women’s voices, because their stories can make as big an impact as Rachel’s stories. They’re making Big Things feel possible to other women. They’re showing the unglamorous truths that most media ignores. They’re not sponsored athletes, and they’re not podium-ing on world stages, but they’re exactly what women need to hear to step up to their own first start line.

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Jordan Griffin:

I remember being dead last in the 3200m, catching a ride in the back of my coach’s truck because I couldn’t finish a 3 mile workout, and constantly being injured.

Sometimes I wonder how I would’ve performed if I chose to feed myself.

My high school self ate a bowl of cereal for breakfast, skipped lunch, had practice after school on an empty stomach, came home and gorged on all of the snacks and dinner, then felt guilty about eating because it would make me gain weight.

As I train for my first ultramarathon, it hit me: I can be an example of someone who uses nutrition to fuel my body and participate in athletic endeavors without feeling the need to restrict my intake or alter my appearance to fit an image.

My high school self would be shook that I now eat a full breakfast before heading out for a run, followed by several snacks, lunch, dinner, as well as all the candy and energy chews I consume on the run itself.

I hope that through my actions, my daughter develops positive relationships with eating and physical activity that never need healing.

Jordan’s full post and fundraising page

Teresita Gonzalez

I’m running a 50K for a cause that means something to me. Getting to this point wasn’t some confident, immediate “yes.” It was filled with hesitation and going back and forth in my head.

Doubt hit: Is this too much? Am I actually ready for something like this? Road miles are one thing, but trails? Distance like this? Being out there that long? Trails aren’t easily accessible here in NYC.

Deep down, I already knew the answer: No, it’s not too much. It’s going to be hard. It’s going to be uncomfortable. But I can do it.

My training doesn’t look clean and perfect. Sometimes it’s slower. Sometimes it’s heavier. Sometimes it’s just about getting it done because I’m not starting from zero when I run. I’m continuing from a full day on my feet as a chef.

Training is teaching me more than just endurance. It’s teaching me how to listen. To eat full meals, not just quick fixes. To drink more water than I think I need. To slow down and recover. To foam roll and ice bath even when I don’t feel like it.

I’m learning to give myself grace because my version of training isn’t going to look like everyone else’s, and that’s ok.

Teresita’s full post and fundraising page

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Kara Marino

Running has always been a mental outlet for me, but I had no idea how to return to running postpartum. I was living in an entirely new body, and I had the worst mom guilt.

Motherhood’s been a constant balancing act between taking care of my children, myself, quality time with my husband, friendships, family relationships, house chores, life, and work. I was putting myself at the bottom of that list.

After my second baby, I didn’t want to fall back into putting myself last. Lessons from bedtime stories had stuck with me, a gentle reminder to pursue what lights me up. And for me, that means lacing up my running shoes and getting back on the trails.

Training for my first ultramarathon hasn’t been perfect. There’s been sickness, missed naps, and busy days that get away from me, but I’m continuing to show up for myself when I can.

Some days that means leaving a pile of laundry that needed to be folded, dishes in the sink, or one of many chores that needs to be done. I gave myself permission to push aside the mom guilt and trust that taking care of myself was just as important as taking care of everything else.

I’m learning how to fit training into my everyday life as a mom. Some days it’s stroller runs, treadmill runs during nap/quiet time, other days it’s a full family effort with my husband towing the kids in the bike trailer while I run alongside. Then there are the early mornings and long solo Saturday morning trail runs, time that is entirely mine again.

I’m not the same runner I was before motherhood, and I’m learning that I don’t need to be. But by showing up for myself and chasing goals that excite me, I hope that my kids know they can always chase what makes them light up.

Kara’s full post and fundraising page

Athlete storytelling shifts culture beyond sports.

We see it in Rachel and we see it in Jordan, Teresita, Kara, and the other 12 First 50k Sisterhood runners. We see it on the See Her Outside Podcast. We see it when a teenage athlete slides into your DMs to tell you your story about underfueling in high school made her realize she needs to eat more.

Most of the athletes I talk to will never win a 250 mile race. But all of them have the potential to change someone’s life by telling the truth. And that’s always been the whole point.

We don’t need more highlight reels. We need more women willing to pull back the curtain on their truest truths, in their truest voice, because somewhere out there is a woman who needs to hear that exact story before she signs up for a race or applies for a job or speaks up for herself.

Rachel Entrekin is giving women permission to dream bigger. The First 50k Sisterhood is what happens when women act on it. I can’t wait to see what stories develop over the next month. ❤️

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Wondering how you got here? Hi, I’m Angie Lake! 👋 I’m a creative consultant and not-elite-just-enthusiastic athlete living in the mountains and rivers of Washington. I talk about the tough stuff — Blood, Sweat, and Fear — with the goal of building a happier, healthier world for women. You can check out all the ways to work with me here, or follow me on Instagram and LinkedIn.

Upcoming events + opps

How to work together

Every day I see Forbes and Business Insider headlines like “Build this Storytelling Hack into Your Funnel” or “Don’t Make These 8 Small Business Storytelling Mistakes” and I mentally throw up a little bit.

Over the past five years I’ve helped hundreds of people tell their stories through live community events, hosting multiple podcasts, and 1:1 creative consulting work with athletes and biz owners. Stories that unpack the taboo and drive people to take action towards a happier, healthier world.

So here’s what you need to know about what storytelling actually is:

Storytelling is simply communicating how an experience changed you. It’s you saying, “Here’s what happened to me.” And another person saying, “So it isn’t just me?!”

That’s it!

And yet. Women constantly talk themselves out of using their truest voice.

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I see it with athletes who aren’t “elite enough” to have an opinion (in their mind). I hear it while listening to podcast guests soften their language when you just KNOW they have something spicier to say. I notice it when outdoor and sports brands don’t speak up about the elephant in the room that all women actually want to talk about.

5 self-censorship blocks repeatedly show up in my communities. The scary news is you might be blocking your own voice and stories without realizing it. The good news is we can learn to break through them (I’ll teach you!).

Let’s introduce these 5 self-censorship blocks as characters.

Notice which ones sound most familiar to you.

🌀 The Spiraler

You have seventeen unfinished drafts. A trip report from that river day in March, a gear review you started in December, an essay about what it means to train through grief that you’ve been “almost done with” for… eight months?

The problem isn’t that you have nothing to say. It’s that you think you have too much, and you can’t find the happy ending, so you don’t start. Or you start and overanalyze how to make it “perfect.” Or you finish and spiral about whether the “moral of the story” is good enough.

The Spiraler is waiting for the tidy throughline before she’ll let herself speak. (Turns out the throughline usually only appears after you publish the mess. But we’ll get to that.)

📝 The Permission Seeker

There’s a popular (though not science-backed) training philosophy making the rounds through the fitness algo, and now, your own running community. It’s one you’ve tried that didn’t work for your body. It’s one you’ve watched injure THREE women you know!

You’ve said nothing publicly. I mean, the coach behind it has 40k followers. You have 700. You’re waiting for someone else, someone with credentials to say what you already know and have experienced.

You wait for a sign, a new certification, or a worthy co-signer. You’d share your opinion… if one other person said it first. So you’re always second or third, nodding at someone else’s take, never realizing YOU are the person someone else is waiting on. YOU!!!!

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🙏 The Pleaser

You wrote a gear review for the cute pink ski pants! It felt good at first: specific, honest, a littleeee spicy about the women’s sizing issue that the brand could improve on.

Before you send to publish, you read it back and think: Wait, what if the brand sees this and thinks I’m being mean? What if women with different bodies feel excluded by your experience? What if you come across as ungrateful? What if someone’s offended???

So you soften the piece, add “in my experience” six times, change “the hip belt digs in” to “some people may find the hip belt placement takes some adjustment,” etc. If you’re being honest with yourself… by the time you send the final draft, it kinda says nothing. The brand reposts it. You feel nothing. It feels safe, but boring.

🥸 The Imposter

You’ve been whitewater kayaking for three years. You can read water. You’ve swum more than you’d care to admit but always get back in the boat. You have things to say about fear and about rivers and about what it means to be a woman learning a skill in spaces where men assume you need more help than you do.

But you’re not a Class V paddler. You’re not an instructor. So you stay quiet and let the people with the bigger resumes do the talking, even when what they’re saying isn’t how you experienced it or want others to believe.

You set the credential bar one notch above wherever you currently stand. You’ll share once your roll is bombproof, once you’re more experienced, more certain, more sure a story is actually yours to tell.

😇 The Good Girl

You post a skiing photo. You’re mid-run, snow flying, glitter earrings catching the light (fuck yeah). You think it’s a great shot. A man you don’t follow and who doesn’t follow you takes time out of his day to comment: “clearly more concerned with looking cute than actually skiing well.”

You delete the comment and never mention it, because you don’t want to seem like you’re starting drama, and don’t want other man-trolls to find your page, and don’t want to be the woman who makes “everything about sexism.” Meanwhile Man-troll has already moved on to the next photo of the next woman.

Good girls have been trained to believe that engaging makes you look sensitive. Staying quiet makes you look unbothered and professional and ladylike and GOOD. But fuck, you’re angry inside.

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Unblock your censors so the world can hear YOUR truest, most game-changing story.

Every story you’ve swallowed, softened, or saved for “later” is someone else’s “so it isn’t just me?!” moment that never comes to life.

I’ve watched women sit on stories for years, waiting to feel more certain, waiting for a certification, waiting for someone else to go first. But the stories that finally come out are always worth it. They’re always exactly what SOMEONE somewhere deeply needed to hear.

Oh, I hear you – the world is not short on “content.” But it IS short on people willing to say the most honest take, in their own voice, without waiting for permission. THAT’S what the best storytelling is. That’s what you’re capable of. And that’s exactly what your loudest block is trying to prevent.

So notice what blocks are coming up most for you. Name the characters who are keeping you from raising your voice, from speaking up for a better world.

And if you want to both identify your main blocks aaaaannnndddd take the first step to dismantling them…

My new self-assessment tool helps you find your loudest block and gives you a specific exercise you can start using now to feel more confident in your voice by Friday!

This one is for paid subscribers only to add some extra thanks for their support. ❤️

For $7/month (JFC that’s less than my latte sometimes) you can be a paid subscriber to support BLOOD, SWEAT + FEAR so it can continue to come out weekly AND give me the caffeine needed to do so.

Feel free to become a paid sub for a month then ditch if you feel like it. I’m thinking of releasing one tool a month here just for the paid sub club…

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The gig was life-changing, both for myself and for the folks who traveled hundreds of miles to join us on the river. I worked for a nonprofit outfitter where we took people with disabilities on rafting trips.

Before then, I’d never worked with — or even hung out with — people with visible disabilities. Admittedly, I avoided eye contact with people in wheelchairs and desperately hoped I’d never be in one myself.

So who was I to row these folks to places society had always told them were unsafe?!

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But day one of training introduced me to the concept of “dignity in risk:” the idea that self-determination and risk-taking are essential to self-esteem, and that taking away those freedoms is dehumanizing. I knew that this work was important to the world — I just didn’t know how much it’d change my inner world.

That first season, I met Keith and Carla, a married couple whose annual river trip was a highlight of their year (and ours as guides, too). Keith and Carla brought pure stoke to every trip. Big smiles that got bigger if we hit the biggest waves.

Both of this duo have cerebral palsy. Neither Keith nor Carla could swim, and Carla used a wheelchair to get around and needed help eating. That didn’t stop us as guides — we could take anybody on a river, as long as they could keep their head above water while floating in a life jacket.

When the Salt Lake Tribute ran a story on one trip, Keith told them: “People that don’t break out have the bigger handicap than I do. If your dreams don’t scare you to death, they are not big enough.”

Awesome, right?! But I, fresh out of my comfortable Boston life, felt so nervous to somehow offend Keith and Carla.

As a first-year guide, I felt incredibly awkward trying to hold a conversation with them and struggled to understand their slower speech. I dreaded having to say “What?” a million times while chatting. I was so nervous to hurt their feelings, but I didn’t want to call attention to their different abilities.

The morning of the Big Drop rapids, I was fitting Carla’s helmet, since the muscles in her hands couldn’t clip it on. As I was adjusting it to fit her head, Carla kept trying to tell me something. But, like usual, I couldn’t understand her speech.

So I kept working, laughing and mumbling awkwardly in an attempt to protect my ego and fill the gap in conversation. I gave the helmet a final tap on top to make sure it was tight.

Then Carla started yelling. Loudly. Screaming at me.

A volunteer rushed over while I stood back at my raft, heart thumping, wondering what I did wrong.

Turns out, every time I tapped on Carla’s helmet, the noise and impact were painful to her. She had been trying to tell me that (multiple times, in fact), as I pretended to understand her and didn’t ask questions back.

In Carla’s experience, I was ignoring her, not taking the time to listen, avoiding feeling awkward at the expense of her comfort. That final helmet tap had been the last straw.

Thankfully, the experienced volunteer, Carla, and I took the time to debrief it. I was able to apologize.

From that rapid forward, I vowed never to let the fear of being awkward come at the expense of someone I was serving.

Since then, I’ve been on Carla’s end. Where a male leader didn’t want to feel awkward, so they didn’t bother to listen to understand me as a woman. When I was the newbie on a trip and nobody wanted to hear how I really felt about the line. Times in the alpine when my discomfort was less important than a leader’s ego.

Outdoor leaders run into this communication block that’s really, on a deeper level, a discomfort tolerance problem. We need to practice the discomfort of awkwardness, of taking ample time to examine others’ needs, of checking in over and over again to know how to best serve those who we lead.

We need to develop the willingness to say “What?” four times in a row. To ask whether someone actually wants your feedback before you give it. To name the thing everyone is pretending not to notice (the only woman on the expedition, the person who needs extra help with gear, the participant who’s visibly struggling and hasn’t said so yet). To feel a little embarrassed in service of someone feeling truly welcome in adventure.

So ask yourself, I still ask myself, all the time:

Is it worth challenging my feelings of discomfort, embarrassment, or shame in order to work toward a more equitable outdoors?

I already know your answer. I just want us all to act on it.

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Reading this on Tuesday? Join a 4-part workshop series to get your ideas out of your notes app and into a piece you can publish or pitch!

Storytelling for Feral Women begins TODAYYYYY!!!

• 🔍 Session 1: Find Your Story Under The Story (April 28)

• 🙊 Session 2: Ditch the Sneaky Self-Censorship (May 5)

• 🌉 Session 3: Build the Bridge from Story to Cause (May 12)

• 🎤 Session 4: Get It Out of Your Body and Into the World (May 19)

Yes, you can miss the first one and pop in for the rest. Shoot me a message if you need.

Storytelling Program Deets

Wondering how you got here? Hi, I’m Angie Lake! 👋 I’m a creative consultant and not-elite-just-enthusiastic athlete living in the mountains and rivers of Washington. I talk about the tough stuff — Blood, Sweat, and Fear — with the goal of building a happier, healthier world for women. You can check out all the ways to work with me here, or follow me on Instagram and LinkedIn.

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How to work together

I spent the first 21 years of my life living along the course. Countless childhood memories of watching thousands of runners fly by my neighborhood and thinking “how is this even possible?” I’d stick my arm out to collect as many high fives as I could, with plenty of sweaty, salty, sunscreened arms reaching from out of the way to give kid me a smile. “Could I ever do that?”

That same inspiration and awe and joy returns every year. Yesterday morning, I worked through my inboxes on one screen while streaming finish line coverage on the other. (I would not recommend if you’re not okay with spontaneous tears mid-email.)

Watching the stragglers is, in my opinion, more meaningful than watching the frontrunners. The last person to cross the Boston official finish this year was 64 year old Ruby Thomas, from my mom’s hometown of Dorchester. It was her first marathon, and she was supported with cheers even as the crew dismantled the finish line structure. (Returns to tissues.)

Toggling between virtual spectating and work emails, I found myself wondering how each of the folks crossing that line would leave Copley Square with some kind of lesson, some story from training or racing to keep tucked away to apply to the rest of life. I realized that so much of what I believe about running a business comes from what I learned after nearly two decades of running myself!

6 Business Lessons I Stole from Running ✏️

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1. 80% easy, 20% hard. ⌚

The 80/20 endurance philosophy changed my running in countless ways. It’s what helped me stay injury-free and burnout-free through a handful of ultramarathons, including a 100 miler. 80% of my training is at an effort that feels like an “all-day” pace. An effort I could hold a conversation at (and do, as my voice memo friends will attest). 20% of my time spent training is at moderate to hard effort (hill sprints, intervals, etc.).

That’s what I want for my business, too: 80% of my working minutes should feel pretty easy. Not lazy easy or phoning-it-in easy, but within an enjoyable range where I don’t need to white-knuckle anything or end up face-down on the couch at 4pm wondering why I chose to work without employer benefits and PTO.

And the 20% hard work is necessary too; it’s what helps me grow, drives me to learn, encourages me to celebrate Feral Fridays (I’ve got a group chat if you wanna join us in taking one bold-scary action a week! Email me!). It makes me pitch a new program, launch a new workshop, have a hard conversation, take a moonshot. But if I treat every day like the 20%, I’ve got nothing left when the real 20% shows up.

I’ve nailed 80/20 in my running. Admittedly, I have not nailed it in business, and find myself in “hard effort” too often, leading to mental injury and burnout. But I’m working towards it, and already feel the difference.

2. Every workout (and task) needs a purpose. ✨

A great training plan will not say “go run.” It will not say “Just go hit 16 miles.”

A great training plan will make sure every workout has a specific why behind it. Is it a long run to build an aerobic base? Hill repeats to build power? A recovery jog to let my legs remember what easy feels like? Every session has a job, and even better if it’s a job specific to the goal race!

I’ve noticed over the years that I can easily fall into the trap of “do it just because you can.” I find myself mindlessly saying yes to favors, accepting coffee calls that creep into free consulting territory, refreshing my inbox one more time just to see what’s come in from the past 5 minutes. 😬

I’m working on not putting a task on my to-do list unless it has a specific, desired outcome attached to it. Yeah, I will break rules when I feel like it — just like some days, it’s more resonant to go on a “fun run” than to hit any particular splits. But I don’t want my to-do list to be a pile of things that felt urgent at some point and got written down and somehow become guilt-inducing and vaguely overwhelming.

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3. Process goals over outcome goals. 💪

What got me to finish a 100 miler and a 50 miler through wildfire smoke wasn’t a goal time or a podium dream. It was the less sexy form of goal: process goals.

“Eat at every aid station.” “Thank every volunteer.” “Electrolytes every 45 minutes.” I can control the process. But I can’t fully control my chip time.

Same at work. “End goals” have yet to work for me! I personally haven’t set a revenue goal or “land X clients by DATE” goal or a “Y number of subscribers” goal. And while there’s certainly a place for those outcome goals — and I should honestly probably pull them in more often, hehe — I wouldn’t get close to them without process goals.

I’m not trying to feel good about my business for just two weeks after a big finish line success. I’m trying to feel good on a random Wednesday in February when nothing’s starting up and I’m just doing the work. I want to be showing up with joy, taking plenty of breaks, meeting new people I care about.

Outcome takes care of itself if the process is solid. And the process is the part where you actually, hello, live your life.

4. Action over time beats one big swing. 🧱

One thing I want every runner to know: You don’t ever have to be perfect, have a “perfect” run. You do need to build a foundation over time, small step by small step.

Some runners edge into hypervigilance: “I need to do the workout perfectly: full mileage, precise effort, dialed nutrition — if not, it’s not worth doing.”

I see this in women racing at Wild Woman every year. They write in to drop to a shorter distance because they missed one long run, or they got sick for a week, or they had a rough month. And I want to shake them. Elite runners miss long runs too! You can do 60% of a training plan and still finish a 50k! I’d bet on it.

The running community loves the metaphor of stacking bricks. The idea is that you build anything that matters one small unit at a time. No single brick looks like much; the wall is the point. A writing career isn’t built in one viral post. A fitness base isn’t built in one heroic long run. A business isn’t built in one launch. You stack one brick then another, another. Most of them are unremarkable on their own. Five years later you turn around and ooooh there’s a big strong wall! 🤩

A crappy 3-mile shuffle is a brick. A shitty first draft of the newsletter you hit publish on is a brick. A half-hour of sponsor outreach is a brick. The glorious 15-miler you didn’t do because you couldn’t make it perfect? That’s not a brick. That’s just a hole where a brick should be.

Share ✨ BLOOD, SWEAT & FEAR

5. You can’t specialize in everything. 🏅

Training for a 5k looks very different from training for a 50k. (If I were training for a 5k, I’d be hitting much faster paces than I do!) A sprint vs. mid-distance vs. ultra race all differ in pacing strategy, fuel, mileage, workout structure, even mindset.

You can succeed beautifully in both. But not both at once. The runner who wins the Boston Marathon isn’t going to win an Olympic 100M dash that year (or likely ever let’s be real).

I believe this in all of life (a lesson I learned from the menstrual cycle, actually): You can have it all, just not all at once. But I’m alwaaays re-learning it. Because as a multi-passionate, I want to do everything! The races, the podcast, the book, the workshop, the fundraising, this Substack, the retreats, the consulting, the local Gorge events. And I can do all of those things. Just not in the same quarter, or I start dropping balls, burnout out, and kinda hating things I love.

When I try to do be fantastic at too many things, I do not get fantastic at anything, and end up resentful. Note to self: Pick the race, train for it, leave the rest. The other races will still be there when you’re done, for the next season.

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6. It’s supposed to be fun. 🥳

Y’all. Tax Day last week mentally ripped me apart. I didn’t expect it to be so horrific but I guess that’s what happens when you accidentally underpay insurance, intentionally underpay quarterly, have two partnership LLCs and one individual business with like 12 different 1099s and hired $10,000 worth of subcontractor labor and and and…

My work is, clearly, complicated. I have a lot to simplify in the future. But if I let that take control of my mental state, like say, during Tax Week, the fun seeps out and leaves me grumpy AF.

Corporate biz culture sometimes assumes that seriousness and suffering are the same thing. But I ran a 100-mile race partly for fun. I am not confused about whether hard things can also be fun. They absolutely can!

When the shit gets tough, fun is the antidote I need to remember. I can make a Bingo Board like I did with Emily in Q4 2025, I can create my Feral Fridays weekly holiday, I can peace out from the laptop and go ski down a volcano. I can pitch a heroine for a coffee chat, I can bring a new offer to life, I can be a guest on a podcast I love.

The reason I’m still running 20 years in is because most days I love getting out for miles. The reason I’m still in my own business is because most days I love, or at least like, what I’m doing, most of the time. If most of my work felt awful most of the time, I wouldn’t be tough. I’d be on the fast track to quitting.

So even when it’s rainy, even when taxes are due, it’s my focus to find the fun.

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What have sports taught YOU about life? 🤔 Join us for Storytelling for Feral Women:

A 4-part workshop series to get your ideas out of your notes app and into a piece you can publish or pitch!

Storytelling for Feral Women begins OMG NEXT WEEK!

• 🔍 Session 1: Find Your Story Under The Story (April 28)

• 🙊 Session 2: Ditch the Sneaky Self-Censorship (May 5)

• 🌉 Session 3: Build the Bridge from Story to Cause (May 12)

• 🎤 Session 4: Get It Out of Your Body and Into the World (May 19)

The whole series is $100 total and subsidizes a wilderness scholarship program for women. If you want to add more creative impact in your life and you love time in nature, just GET YOUR BUTT IN HERE OKAY?

Storytelling Program Deets

Wondering how you got here? Hi, I’m Angie Lake! 👋 I’m a creative consultant and not-elite-just-enthusiastic athlete living in the mountains and rivers of Washington. I talk about the tough stuff — Blood, Sweat, and Fear — with the goal of building a happier, healthier world for women. You can check out all the ways to work with me here, or follow me on Instagram and LinkedIn.

Upcoming events + opps

How to work together