You've met the Spring ’17 Roga Skirt with shorts, and now we’re bringing back a classic. Yes, they're back! The Roga Skirt with briefs! In case you’re wondering which is for you, Feather and Jess break it down for you…

You may be into the briefs if you're an out the door kind of runner. 1, 2 stretch and GO!

You may be into the shorts if you're into all the stretches.

You may be a briefs runner if you’re into keeping it light and airy.

The shorts may be for you if you’re into the quick stop and go, go kind of runner.

Toilet paper stuck to shoe? Men’s room? Skirt all up in there? #ObliviousRunner

Roga Skirt in black? Classy and sassy.

Day date? Oh Snap!

And for the appropriately, inappropriate runner? Probably best to stick with the shorts…

Whichever way you run… may your skirt game be strong.  

xo 

Feather + Jess

BY: JOEMARIE RODRIGUEZ

If you ever met me, you will never believe I’ve only been running a few years. My love (ok, yes, my obsession) with running started back in 2012, and it started with an office bet to improve fitness (aka, lose weight). A Runner’s World magazine article introduced me to The Seven Continents Club. I wanted to learn more about this crazy idea of traveling the world and running races, so I googled it, and here I am, on my way to Antarctica… The article talked about these amazing trips around the world and listed the companies that can help you achieve these crazy dreams. I landed on the Marathon Tours website, my first reaction was amazement, then disappointment set in; I don’t want to go all the way out there to be the slowest runner! But the more I read about past runners, the more I realized how this race is not about speed, is about the journey, the adventure, the unknown and I could not wait to try!

So, in Dec 2014 I sent my deposit to be wait-listed in the 2017 roster… Fast forward to last summer, you see, initially I didn’t make the roster, I was bumped out to the 2018 roster. Then last Oct I got the email, someone had dropped out and the spot was mine, I had 2 weeks to decide and 30 days to plan this trip. Finally, I AM GOING TO ANTARCTICA!

Funny how the runner from 2014 is no longer the runner that I am today. That runner was freaking out about being last, scared of what others would think and paralyzed by the thought of not finishing. This runner can’t stop talking about her experience. How, now, as I train for my first 50K, this half marathon is another training run, that I purposely want to take it slow and take all the pictures in the world and high-five as many participants as possible under my 7 layers and risking hypothermia.

So, off to Buenos Aires! Imagine having to pack for 70 degree weather and 20 degree weather! Oiselle to the rescue! Major kudos to the Nest for expediting our soon-to-hit-the-streets Roga Skirts! I took my navy from last season, and my new Black and Snap Roga Skirts (pssst, this is a sneak peek, subscribe below to hear first!)… Note that my Roga Skirt also serve as my polar plunge swimsuit bottom! Imagine my surprise when while returning from one of our afternoon group runs in Buenos Aires I spied a bright Mio Mesh Dress in Snap at the hotel lobby! A fellow bird! Nadia Dahab from Portland, OR was also headed to Antarctica to tackle this challenge. Unfortunately we were assigned to different ships, I was in the Vavilov and she in the Ioffe, so we didn’t get a chance to visit with each other. I’m thinking Nadia had a great time, she won her age group! Wings Out!

After a few days in BA, we fly to Ushuaia to meet the ship, the Academik Sergey Vavilov. We depart across the Beagle Channel and we get our first look at the Drake Passage. The weather and ocean waves cooperated and sea sickness was not an issue for me (for the most part!)

Race Day! The weather was perfect! 30s and 4-8 knot winds. The course, 4.3 mile loop between the Russian Research Station and the Chinese Research Station (The Great Wall). For ½ marathoners, we needed to tackle 3 laps… My #flystyle: Flyte Tank, Wazzie Wool Funnel Neck, Katron Vest, Flock Beanie and Lux Gloves. It was a muddy mess, and about a mile of gravel rocks that were not my favorite, but this was a great race. It helps that the runners and volunteers all know each other after being on a ship for 3 days!

And what can top running in Antarctica? A real Polar Plunge! Especially in geothermally heated waters (1.2 degree C) inside an active volcano, hello Deception Island! My #flystyle under that many layers? Logo Pom Beanie, Volée Crop Top, Flyte Tank and Roga Skirt in black. 

This year is a truly Bucket List year for me. I am tackling my first 50K and my first marathon. Oiselle started 2017 with the #WheelsUp campaign. Remember? I need to revise my affirmation. You see, this year is all about the journey… I am asking my legs, mind and body to take me to places we have never been before, geographically and physically… I want to prepare my legs to carry me farther and higher than ever. I want to teach my mind to find peace, purpose and patience when the moments get tough and my thoughts get dark. I want to teach my body to fuel better for the journeys we are preparing for… Let the adventure continue. What’s next? Africa!?

SUBSCRIBE TO HEAR FIRST!

True Madness. A few years ago I wrote a blog post for Oiselle detailing the fantastic awfulness of the month of March and how it has often led me to make highly questionable choices in all aspects of my life: career, social, romantic, athletic, aesthetic, fashion... The article was accompanied by a photograph of me in a green wig and mustache, ready to race a serious event but sporting a costume for Saint Patrick's Day.

So when Oiselle asked me to think about a blog detailing the method behind my madness pertaining to clothing choices for running during a month in which our Minnesota weather can vary from blizzard conditions to one memorable 80 degree Saint Paddy's Day, I knew I was the woman for the job. See, here's the thing: March is random and extreme, and I am random and extreme. March and I have a love/hate relationship because March makes me do crazy things, but then I can blame those crazy things on March. March and alcohol. I'll call it March Madness (I wonder if that term is already a thing....)

I am going to structure the discussion of my clothing choice randomness in March based on the concept of the seven-layer salad, an idea I have to a credit to Oiselle's own Jess Barnard (well, she said "seven-layer combo," and I immediately thought seven-layer salad). I once had a job at a local grocery store (shout out to Hy-Vee, a good home-grown Iowa company) in the salad bar/juice bar. As part of my duties, I was often asked to make seven-layer salads in pretty containers. I was the only member of our salad bar staff to have a college degree, and I had graduated Phi Beta Kappa. I was headed off to a PhD program in clinical psychology. But do you think I could remember the seven f'ing ingredients in the salad, let alone the order? I had to use the "recipe" card every single time. I guess maybe I didn't care enough? Yeah, that's what I'll say....

So, according to Wikipedia, here is the definition of a seven-layer salad:

"Seven-layer salad is an American dish that includes a colorful combination of seven layers of ingredients: iceberg lettuce, tomatoes, cucumbers, onions, sweet peas, hard boiled eggs, sharp cheddar cheese, and bacon pieces."

I'm fairly certain that this ingredient list is in order from bottom to top, though, as I previously stated, I pretty much sucked at my job. (Tangent: I also insisted on answering the phone by saying "Juice bar" in what I thought was a hysterical sexy lisping manner. The manager didn't think it was quite as funny as I did, but many of my colleagues thought it was great, and I didn't get fired, so... no harm, no foul, as they say.)

In a nod to the salad days of March (an oxymoron, given that salad days refers to the heyday or youthful beginning of something and March is no heyday nor does it feel at all youthful), then, here's my layering attempt at getting it right when dressing for a March event in high fashion. From outer to inner layers, here we go!

ICEBERG LETTUCE

This is the staple, the hardiness, the no-nonsense Jungle-Chicken-laughs-last-and-laughs-best in the face of a snowy and windy, nasty March day. We're talking Call Her Jacket and sassy Pom Beanie. So it's a biting cold? Hey, March - bite me!

TOMATOES

Is it a fruit? Is it a vegetable? (We all know it's a fruit by now thanks to the PR campaign run by the head of media relations for the tomato.) So it's confusing, it's versatile, it's misunderstood, it's fighting back -- just like Jungle Chicken! Here we go with a classic and understated Aero Jacket paired with the surprisingly sassy Denim Track Pants. They look like jeans, they look like sweatpants, they look... STRAIGHT STREET. Just like me. (This is sarcasm. Though I live by myself in the city and consider myself pretty badass, I actually live my life on a day-to-day basis much more like that of a suburban housewife. Think too many cats, manicured lawn, honest-to-god white picket fence, decorating for holidays with cutesy mantelpiece displays and confetti EVERYWHERE!) So like I said: tattoos and sex, drugs, rock and roll and pants that look sort of like denim! Yep. I've still got it.

CUCUMBERS

It's a necessary layer. It adds texture, crunch, without adding much flavor. Someone had to do it. The cucumber stepped up to the plate to get the job done. Like the second runner on a relay team: no fanfare, no glory, but ya gotta get the baton from the lead-off to the third runner--without losing ground. So it's the black Wazzie Wool Base Layer with or without the Trail Bird Sweatshirt and the black Lux Track Pants. It's stealth, it's necessary, and it's oh-so-comfortable. I can run in this, but mostly I just sit around watching NCAA basketball and having a beverage and some chips in it. Cheers! Let's celebrate the strong, silent type.

ONIONS

They add flavor and pizzazz to everything. Yet alone they're kinda nasty -- too strong. No one picks up an onion and just bites into it and eats it. You add it to things. And so it is with the Vigor Vest. Or is it? Can we mess it up, March? Can we be cray-zee and bold? Can we just wear it all by itself? The answer is yes! If you're Lauren Fleshman. Maybe not if you're the Jungle Chicken. Maybe if you have more tats than cats. But I'm gonna go for it! March makes me do things that I may regret later--I warned you!

SWEET PEAS

Awww... it's a term of endearment. We're having some fun now! We're contrasting the biting winds of March with those odd, blessed days when the winds blow warm from the South and the birds chirp and those of us in the Northern climes spot our first robin in the yard (my mom used to have a fun contest for our family: whoever saw the first robin of the spring got a dollar! It meant a lot in those days when a dollar could buy three candy bars and you were seven years old and three candy bars would double your weight!). Optimism! We shed our long layers and reveal our shockingly pale, pasty-white legs and arms to the world (to whom we apologize--wait a few months and we'll sun-damage/tan ourselves into a better aesthetic). Tee-shirts are now revealed with our political statements like Speak Out or Runners Against Doping. And brand loyalties like the Oiselle Logo Tee or the Oiselle Wing Dolman, and we dare to go out in shorts... but have to run a little faster than we had planned/hoped in order to stay warm. These are the times in which we bite off more than we can chew, get too big for our britches, dare to dream about the warmth of summer a wee bit too soon and then realize too late that we were "a day early and a dollar short" (unless we were the first to see that robin!)... but lie to ourselves and our friends that we're fine, we're not too cold. And then our lips turn blue. Yeah--too soon. Too early. Too optimistic--but is there such a thing? And don't even get me started on arm warmers... they're like the leg warmers that I remember so fondly from the '80's, except EVEN BETTER!

HARD BOILED EGGS

And... we're back to hard. We had gone from the biting onion to the sweetest of peas and now we're back to hard. Here we have some protein! Some substance! Some grit and toughness and a return to the grind. Something to get us through the day, the week, the challenge of the month of March. We don't wear this to train yet, because it's still way too early for that, but give us a challenge when we race or do speed on the track and we show our F-YOU grit. Yeah, I'm talking about the Flyte Tank. Put it on to race. Shed your top layers to reveal it on your last interval to give you that extra boost. SUN'S OUT?! GUNS OUT! Let the world see those arms for the first time since early October. No hiding anymore. Keepin' it real, March. Fear me. Let the lion roar.

SHARP CHEDDER CHEESE

Emphasis on the "sharp." No longer afraid, fine-tuned precision machine. At least that's how we feel on those first days when the sun shines bright, the temps climb, and the world is at our fingertips (or fleet feet). You feel me? That's right -- I'm showing you my "nasty woman" abs and you can run scared (and I mean that for better or for worse). There's no hiding behind the winter anymore. There's no hiding behind layers. They're all stripped away, peeled away, torn off, and now the party truly starts. I'm down to the skin, I'm raw, I'm real... I'm in my Lesko Bra. I may hide like a turtle in its shell in a minute, but for right now, right this minute, right when it's all revealed and in its truest state... THIS IS ME.

BACON PIECES 

Ummm... has anyone reading this been counting layers? Or did you count from the beginning? This appears to be number eight. Does it not count as a layer because it's more of a "sprinkle"? Is it a bonus layer -- like a baker's dozen is one more than a dozen? Okay... I can roll with it. It's a seven-plus layer salad. So I guess this is where we go wild... rogue... off-the-chain (no rules, only "opportunities," as The Speed Project taught us to believe) and booty-licious and outrageous and whatever else our cabin-fever has brought about. Here's the layer that's just for you. What is it? Competition briefs? Warrior paint? Naked? I wouldn't deign to offer a suggestion for you on this one: it's all you. Be you. Be free.

Head up. Wings out. (Clothing optional?)

JC

We believe in the power of cowbell! Oiselle is so thrilled to be presenting our first road race in our hometown of Seattle! The Tenacious Ten on Earth Day, April 22nd, will start and finish in beautiful Gas Works Park. Make sure you are registered before it's too late! Every race is a team effort, and we are proud to introduce our fantastic team. 

Our finisher medal cowbell enjoyed the opportunity of lifetime: a field trip to the Ten10 finish line. 

1. Snohomish Running Company: Grant and team are the logisitcs experts making sure the Ten10 is fun and fab! 

2. Kinetic Sports Therapy: Our official health and wellness partner - keeping Seattle moving.

3. Every Mother Counts: EMC! Helping moms and babies around the world.

4. Nuun: Official electrolyte drink. They've been hydrating us since the beginning. 

5. Gu: Official on course nutrition - to aid your race and avoid the bonk!

6. Picky Bars: Real food in a real bar. Plus, Fleshman forever!

7. Stabilyze Bar: Yum. Protein is good for you.

8. November Project: Flash mob workouts all year long at 6:29 am! 30 race volunteers.

9. Seattle Salads: The Emerald City loves its greens.

10. Stay Pineapple/ Watertown Hotel: Where the runners rest, relax, and get ready to rumble. Plus packet pick up and exclusive Oiselle expo. 

11. Custom Performance PT: NYC based physical therapy, performance center... helping out of area runners get to the Ten10!

This race features epic levels of cowbell, with a cheer station at every mile. Our wonderful cowbell corner partners: 

Mile 1    Kinetic Energy Cowbell Station - Get electric with Kinetic & Nuun Energy Drink

Mile 2    Cascade Run Club & Pocock Rowing Club - Disco Aid Station + Cowbell

Mile 3    Moms Rock & Every Mother Counts - Cowbell & Music

Mile 3.5    Flywheel & Boeing Sign Center Cowbell Station - Come Get Your Sign On!

Mile 4    Seattle Green Lake Running Group - Hawaiian Luau Aid Station + Cowbell Station

Mile 5   Ragnar Viking - Cowbell Station

Mile 6    November Project - Cowbell + Aid Station + GU Gels

Mile 7    Team RWB American Freedom - Cowbell Station 

Mile 8    November Project - Cowbell  + Aid Station + GU Gels

Mile 9    Whole Foods - Cowbell Station

Mile 9.5    Miir - Cowbell Station

Mile 10    Finisher Celebration with all sponsors!

MORE COWBELL!

Right now, two giant boxes full of running clothes are sitting in my living room, waiting to be donated. 30 sports bras, over 20 pairs of tights, about one million shirts and tanks, and a few pairs of shoes. Before joining the badass lady gang here at Oiselle, I would receive a ridiculous amount of clothing from different brands for me to try and hopefully hype on social media. 

Photo by: Banga Studios

It sounds amazing but truthfully, most of it went unworn because as a US size 8/10, I’m really picky about what I wear when I run. I don’t just want to look good, I have to know that my sports bra isn’t going to rub me raw or leave me with a migraine and back pain. Or that my shorts won’t leave my inner thighs bloody or that a shirt won’t make me looking and feeling like the casing of a sausage. 

Oddly enough, there’s a lot of not so great athletic clothing out there. But one of my favorite parts about wearing Oiselle is that THIS SH*T IS TOP NOTCH. Look, I’ve worn pretty much every brand out there and no one designs running clothing like Oiselle. From the high waisted leggings that hug you in all the right places instead of making you look like Steve Urkel, to the patterns and colors, I’ve never felt foxier or stronger wearing spandex in my life. 

And can we just take a second to feel the pride you feel when you see another woman rocking a Volée singlet or some #flystyle? It doesn’t matter if I’m alone or with friends, I feel instantly connected and I always find myself screaming head up, wings out or bad ass lady gang at the member of the sisterhood who is running by.  

But now that I’ve had a few months to kick ass and take names in my flystyle, I wanted to share my go to picks with all of you:

Photo by: Banga Studios

GIFTED VERRA AND VERRAZANO BRA

These sports bras are the only sports bras I wear and the fact that I didn’t make the switch sooner kind of gives me trust issues.  (I’m a 36DD and I wear a size 8. As uncomfortable as I am broadcasting my bra size, I take sports bras very seriously and believe I am sharing for the greater good.) 

SARAH ATTAR TANKS

They’re light, they look foxy on, and it makes me really proud that I actually get to wear two time Olympian and badass woman Sarah Attar’s art while I run down my goals.

FLYTE LONG SLEEVE

The best long sleeve around. Form fitting but not too form fitting. Light but not too light. Foxy but not too foxy. 

FLYOUT TANK

I don’t wear shirts often because I end up stripping it off within moments but the flyout tank is one of my favorite shirts to run.

SPEAK OUT TEE

The reason I fell in love with Oiselle is their devotion to women’s rights. When I wear this shirt, I feel stronger.

TRIALS HOODIE

I love a good hoodie and the fact that it’s orange makes me love it even more. I’ve fallen asleep on more couches post long run rocking this hoodie than anything else in my life. 

STRIDER SHORTS

I have trust issues after years of chafed and bloody inner thighs from shorts that are just too damn short. These shorts are just long enough to prevent chafing and just short enough that they don’t look ridiculous. It’s a hard balance to pull off but these shorts are wonderful.

AERO TIGHTS

I race in them, I run in them, I go on dates in them. They are easily the best thing that has ever happen to me. I haven’t taken them off since I got them 4 months ago. 

POCKET JOGGERS

The fit is amazing and the pockets fill me with so much joy. I love pockets so much.   

NEW KC KNICKERS

I call them my sassy pants because the pattern makes me feel sassy. Best worn on track days or days when you know you need to be extra badass. 

So there you have it - my picks for feeling, looking, running strong. Welcome to the lady gang friends! 

Head Up, Wings Out. 

BY: ALISOUNE LEE

This past weekend I completed the most physically and mentally exhausting race of my life. I ran the Chuckanut 50K, 31 miles of mud, constant rain, snow, and 5000 overall feet of elevation gain. On the completion of this event, I realized that the experience really sums up running for me, what it has brought into my life and how it has changed it and continues to change it. For anyone that has not done this race, the first and last 10K are run on a seemingly flat portion of the interurban trail. The last 10K seems to extend on forever into a never ending battle of mental torture. At least for me. I ran into the final aid station, tried to eat some m&m’s, smiled and chatted with the volunteers for a moment, then turned to take on the trail. I knew it was going to be hard, I knew it would hurt. I just ran 24 miles up and down a mountain in such muddy terrain that I felt like I was running on marshmallows that were trying to steal my shoes. Just hang on I thought. It doesn’t hurt that bad. Think of this accomplishment, your first ultra, 31 miles. Think how proud you will feel when it’s done and over.

Photo Credit: Glenn Tachiyama

I kept going, putting one foot in front of the other, aching feet now wet for almost 6 hours, tired quads from running downhill. Oddly, I was catching up to a few people on the trail, talking with them for a bit to take my mind of the pain. Everyone was in the same boat, we wanted to finish, to be done. My Garmin stopped for a bit, so I truly didn’t know how far I had left. I would walk a bit, but running hurt less, 2 or 3 more miles, that’s all. I asked a few Canadians how far it was to the end, they answered in KM, which didn’t help in my delirious mind. I asked a few guys, they had no idea. Stop asking, I thought and just go. I came up onto what turned out to be the last road crossing, about three quarters of mile from the finish. I had no idea how far I still had to go. The volunteer said, “You are almost there!” I asked, “Really? How far?” I wanted numbers as an answer, empirical facts. He said, “Just around the corner.” Isn’t it always just like that? Just around the corner. It wasn’t. I started to repeat my favorite running mantra in my head, “There is no secret just keep going.” Then there it was, around a very long corner or three, the finish. My goodness! There was the clock, 5 hours 50 minutes. I wanted to get under 6 hours and I did. I crossed the finish line, someone handed me a stainless steel mug, and that was it. I was stunned. Cold and wet, but I had just run 31 miles, my first ultra, and I did it.

Thinking back on the entire race and especially that last 10K, I realized that I was happy during the whole thing. I started nervous and wanted to puke, couldn’t feel my legs and thought I might have an accident in my tights, but I was happy. Joyful. Joyous up and down and up again. Happy to chat with people on the course, run into Instagram friends, and see people I knew out there cheering for me and others. Happy to be running on the ridge with some friendly Canadians from Squamish, watching their feet and foot placement as they cruised down the trails. Deliriously happy to run into a friend at the mile 20 aid station where I was given lifesaving coca cola before heading up the chin scraper. Happy that I was there, outside, alive, and able to be doing this incredible race. The most amazing thing running has brought into my life is the strength and courage that I have needed to find confidence, self-acceptance, and a path to self-love. This is where this may get a bit cheesy, but my path to self-love, self-acceptance, and confidence has been a long and prickly road and I am nowhere near the finish line.

My entire life took a huge hit last year and everything I knew imploded. I had been on a set course, a planned life, I knew my destination and I knew how I was going to get there. I had accepted it, I may not have been entirely happy, but this was it, my life. Then, life, as it does sometimes, decided to change all of that for me. Due to a crazy turn of events, I got divorced, moved internationally, changed jobs, and started a new life on my own in Seattle parenting my two boys. What now? I thought. What happens now? What do I do? I was wracked with self-loathing and self-doubt. It was terrifying, it still is terrifying. There are days and nights I don’t know if I can do it, but I figure it out and I do. Running has been the one amazing constant through all of this chaos and it has helped in more ways than I even thought possible. Of course, it keeps me fit and mentally stable, but it has brought so many amazing people and experiences into my life. It has helped me create a community of people that even when I am in the lowest points of my life, there is almost always someone there I can reach out to or even go for a run with. Most of all running has pushed me down the path to finally realizing, even with all the crazy stuff that happened in my life, that the best way to be happy and find happiness in life was to accept myself and to actually commit to loving myself. This year as I turned the young age of 43, I proclaimed it the year of Al. Finally, I would and actually have decided, to love myself, warts, faults, imperfections and all. I will push myself and continue to struggle and learn but I will continue to run towards this goal.

I realized that this race, like many and the pure act of running itself, mirrors a lot of what takes place in life. There is no secret. It is hard, you go up mountains and you go crashing down. Your shoes may get soaked or stolen and people tell you, the answer is just around the corner, when usually it’s not. We still keep going, I still keep going. I want to be strong, healthy, happy, confident, and to have the opportunity to keep pushing myself.  Running has brought all of this into my life and has set me on a path towards self-love and acceptance. I am not there yet, but I am on my way.

- Alisoune 

It's a new dawn. It's a new day. And we just want to feel good. But how? Choosing joy is a decision we can make everyday. To feel that magic, that spark, that lightness, that strength. It's a force that we can say YES to. It's a feeling we have the power to cultivate. It's what we call: joy to the run. So what does that look like? 

It's a celebration of going the distance. 

That free flow of a solo effort. 

It's where creativity takes flight. 

That sunshine on your skin. 

Good soul in your feet. 

It’s teammates coming together. 

It's that floaty, lightness of a run that comes easy. 

It's the triumph of hard work that pays off. 

So why not joy everyday? What stands in the way? 

Vulnerability of the unknown. 

The starting line what ifs? 

Fear of the fall out. 

So how do we say yes to joy and silence the voice of fear? 

We give recognition to vulnerability. We tell fear that it's welcome on the ride, but it can't steer the ship. We take a brave breath and we take the helm. We take chances, because it's a hell of a lot more interesting than staying small, staying safe, staying comfortable. And we embrace the glorious ride and all of the goodness that comes with choosing joy. 

We want to know… what does #joytotherun look like for you?

BY: ROSE ASRICAN

Please don’t ask me what I do for a living. You might think it is really boring, and then I will feel self conscious and nerdy. Or worse, you might think it is really cool and brainy, and then I will feel like a fraud. At work I often don a “space suit” – you know, like the ones you see in the movies when “scientists” are working with deadly pathogens – and I, well, I go work with deadly pathogens. I spend my days researching vaccines and therapeutics for highly infectious diseases like the bubonic plague and tuberculosis. (My friends will be angry if I leave out my current infectious disease of choice, chlamydia – much less dangerous but just as worthy of the jokes it has garnered.) Despite the facts that I have a Masters degree in my discipline and have been in this line of work for nearly 20 years, this not so little voice inside my head continues to tell me I am a fraud. There is just no way that I could possibly be smart enough to be considered a “real scientist”.

One more thing: please don’t ask me about my running. I never actually set out to be a runner. Growing up, I was never particularly athletic. We were required to play sports in high school and I staked my place on the field hockey and lacrosse teams as an all-star bench warmer. The only thing I liked about high school sports and the only thing I was remotely good at were the warm up runs we did before most practices. But even though I enjoyed it, I didn’t run regularly on my own until after college. Once I got started on a routine I realized that I loved the way running made me feel and it became ingrained into who I was.

If it hasn’t yet become abundantly clear, I struggle with Generalized Anxiety Disorder (GAD). Of course, because I struggle with anxiety I don’t tend to want to talk about it; it’s a frustrating and exhausting loop to be stuck in.

For those of you who don’t have personal experience with GAD, the best way I can explain it is to say that essentially my brain is wired to worry about everything – and nothing – all the time. This chronic nervousness, apprehension and self-doubt may or may not be associated with real life stressors, and it is my constant companion. In any given situation I am convinced the absolute worst possible outcome will happen. I don’t sleep well most nights because my mind is too busy replaying situations and interactions I had during the day and agonizing over whether I said or did the right thing. I wonder if my friends really like me or if they are just being polite. I worry about my children. Do they know all of their spelling words for school? Are they happy enough? Can I save enough money for their college? I worry about my relationship with my husband. Did I make him mad at some point in the day? Did he really like what I made for dinner? Will we be able to retire comfortably? You name it and I have worried about it at some ungodly hour. And it isn’t just at nighttime either. These thoughts can pop up any time day or night and leave me unable to function in any sort of productive way.

I have spent too many years hiding my anxiety behind my dry wit, and my sassy and sarcastic demeanor. In my mind, if I make people laugh, then maybe they wouldn’t realize that internally I am agonizing over whether I am saying and doing the right things. Over time it became much easier for me to maintain this facade and not allow myself to be vulnerable, but unfortunately this coping mechanism didn’t allow me to cultivate a lot of authentic, close friendships.

For many years, running was a solo endeavor for me. I didn’t have any friends who ran and it never occurred to me to join a running group. But the dawn of social media brought me the opportunity to connect with other runners who loved the sport as much as I did. I started following Oiselle in the company’s early days, when the Volée was a small team of selected competitive runners. Every Monday they would post race results on Twitter, and I followed along as team members congratulated and supported each other. I was intrigued and inspired, yet still too intimidated to gather the courage to apply for the Volée when the yearly application period rolled around again. My anxious mind convinced myself that I didn’t run enough, I wasn’t fast enough, I didn’t look like a real runner, so I let the opportunity pass me by.

But somehow, when Oiselle opened the team to the Flock in the Summer of 2014 I made the decision to step way outside of my comfort zone and I joined immediately. True to form, about 5 minutes after I registered I was filled with a sense of complete dread. What did I just do? Can I get my money back? There is no way I belonged here with all of these runners who are faster and leaner than me. And yet…somewhere in the back of my mind I also realized that this had the potential to be a transformative moment for me. I saw clearly that I could let my anxiety keep me from being part of a team or I could face my fears, step out of my comfort zone and see what happened.

Nearly 3 years later, this team has become the cornerstone and intersection of my running and social lives. By interacting with teammates over social media and showing up for as many of the local meetups as I could I found a diverse group of women who treat each other’s goals as important as their own. My paces, my PRs, what size I happen to wear have never factored into the relationships I have built on this team. Through this team I have found a group of women who have become my closest friends and fiercest supporters. These women have stood by me through recurring injuries that have taken me away from the sport that I love for months at a time, trained with me and paced me to massive PR’s, and helped me through the everyday stresses of marriage, child rearing and work. They applauded me when I decided it was time to change my twitter handle from the self-deprecating @roserunsslow to @roserunson and cheered me on when I decided one day that, self-consciousness be damned, it was just too freaking hot and humid to run with a sweaty shirt clinging to me and I ran, in public, in my sports bra and shorts. And best of all, I know, without a shadow of a doubt that they love me as much when I am wracked with anxiety as they do when I am dripping in wit and sarcasm.

I am living proof of the fact that this team is about much, much more than running. It is about relationships – real, authentic, messy relationships. It is about arguing respectfully, laughing so hard you cry and running one another in at the end of races. It is about text threads so long you can’t even find a message from 30 minutes ago, road trips to camp and the inside jokes they generate, and both providing and receiving emotional support when a child is struggling, a marriage is frustrating or an injury is nagging. It is my proof that it is okay for me to cast aside my anxieties and spread my wings a little bit. I certainly didn’t know what to expect when I joined the Volée, but I can tell you that the community I found has far exceeded my wildest dreams.

- Rose

In case you missed the #BTS on our Instagram story last week... we've got some new birds on set! From Volée to Haute Volée to Nesters, we love featuring people in the Oiselle community on site. Get to know Anita, Matt, and Mariel! 

ANITA LAM

HOW DID YOU ORIGINALLY FIND OUT ABOUT OISELLE?

I purchased my first Oiselle shorts at Super Jock n' Jill in 2007 when O was a new brand to the store. Orange was the color and probably the most comfortable pair I have ever worn. I went back, bought another pair and donated all my old pair to Goodwill.

WHAT WAS THE MOST SURPRISING ELEMENT TO YOU OF BEING IN A PHOTOSHOOT?

The challenge of being outside my comfort zone in my skin suit. Embracing my curves, wrinkles, and imperfections for all to witness in a bra and tights. I appreciate the realism Oiselle is committed to in their photos. Running is real and beautiful. It's what we do.

WHAT DO YOU DO IN YOUR LIFE WHEN YOU'RE NOT MODELING?

Finding balance as a working mom, getting my enjoyment in running, cycling, and any new sport I can get my hands on to try. I enjoy the challenge of racing and the process in the preparation. Being on the move can take it's toll, taking pause through meditative and mind clearing practice is a daily ritual.

WHEN YOU GET DRESSED TO RUN OR WORK OUT, HOW DO YOU WANT TO FEEL?

I want what I am wearing to move with me and support the shape that I am. Being comfortable in style.

WHAT WAS YOUR FAVORITE ITEM FROM THE PHOTOSHOOT?

Hard to decide on one item because my dream wardrobe would be everything Oiselle. The new Denim Lori Shorts are a must have and personally, I can't get enough of the Flyte Tanks.  

MATT MORNICK

HOW DID YOU ORIGINALLY FIND OUT ABOUT OISELLE?

I am Amos Morgan's photographer's assistant. He regularly shoots for Oiselle. I learned about Oiselle during the recent Olympic Games in Brazil.  

WHAT WAS THE MOST SURPRISING ELEMENT TO YOU OF BEING IN A PHOTOSHOOT?

How fantastic the Oiselle athletes are to photograph and work with.  

WHAT DO YOU DO IN YOUR LIFE WHEN YOU'RE NOT MODELING?

Photographer! Recent work - cover of current issue of Edible Portland.

WHEN YOU GET DRESSED TO RUN OR WORK OUT, HOW DO YOU WANT TO FEEL?

Clothed. Ready.

WHAT WAS YOUR FAVORITE ITEM FROM THE PHOTOSHOOT?

Those Pocket Joggers looked cozy as a couch. I'd rock those for men. :)

MARIEL 

HOW DID YOU ORIGINALLY FIND OUT ABOUT OISELLE?

In 2010 I met Sally when she first sat in my styling chair at Headlines Salon in the University Village. Always on the go, she told she wanted a fun style that could go from wet to dry and run to office without having to primp too much. I remember one of those early visits, she excitedly brought in a copy of Seattle Business Magazine that had an article about her fledgling business. I asked her about the company and she told me they wanted to make their mark in the fitness industry by being a company by women, for women that could stand up for female athletes at all stages of their careers. They had named it Oiselle, French for bird, because it represented their philosophy that as women we should be unbound and free. Since then I have had the joy of watching from the wings as this philosophy and brand has grown and truly taken flight.

WHAT WAS THE MOST SURPRISING ELEMENT TO YOU OF BEING IN A PHOTOSHOOT?

I was most surprised about the idea that I was at a photoshoot for a fitness brand and being photographed in clothes that show areas of my body that historically I have gone to great lengths to tone and cover up. I was surprised that instead of leaving the shoot feeling uneasy, I left feeling empowered. The director (Megan) and photographer (Amos) gave me positive feedback and I would catch a glance or two of some of my photos as they came through on the screen. Instead of thinking that the girl in the picture looked she should go put more clothes on, I thought that she looked strong, or that she was curvy in a good way. I was the 'big' girl in high school and now having lost more than 100 pounds it can be hard to change your frame of mind from thinking that there is a magical destination weight where my body will be 'perfect', to knowing it is more of journey and that 'perfect' is subjective.

WHAT DO YOU DO IN YOUR LIFE WHEN YOU'RE NOT MODELING?

In life I work as a hairstylist going on 11 years behind the chair. Also I have recently gotten into residential real estate.

WHEN YOU GET DRESSED TO RUN OR WORK OUT, HOW DO YOU WANT TO FEEL?

When I workout I like to dress in a way that highlights my assets and holds things where they need to be but also leaves me free to move!

WHAT WAS YOUR FAVORITE ITEM FROM THE PHOTOSHOOT?

I loved all the pieces, and I love the plum sticks color of the Gifted Verrazano, but I think my favorite item was the Pocket Jogger. Loved the higher waistband fit and I love how all the pockets let me take all the things I need while remaining sleek!

What follows is less of a race recap, and more of a manifesto for how I want to live the rest of my life. It's important to note that words cannot capture the magic of this experience. The 12 women, 6 racers and 6 crew, who became team #Birdstrike left a dent in the universe. Whether our mark was a now-open door for female teams to take on the unsanctioned 340 mile Speed Project, or an unbreakable bond connecting us all to each other and what happened that weekend in the desert. This recap may offer a glimpse of what we saw, felt, and made out there in those miles, but these are just a few pages from the book of that story.

Nora Bird wants to be on the starting line at 4:15am. It's almost midnight and we have an RV to load, an Airbnb to vacate, and almost 50 sweet potatoes to take out of the oven and wrap in tiny foil blankets. There is gear, everywhere. Clothes, cameras, food, medical supplies, headlamps, maps, shoes, foam rollers, and more. And bags. There are so many bags. We look like we're preparing to climb Everest. Racers work through a restless sleep as the crew does a final walk through of our supplies. As the clock pushes past twelve 'Twerd and I look at each other knowingly. We may not be ready (who could be for something like this), but it's time. 

It's 3am. Our alarms sound simultaneously and the crew is live. Supplies are sorted and bags are loaded - the immediate needs of the active racers in the Blackbird (Suburban #1), the immediate needs of the resting racers in Big Bird (the RV), cameras and our film crew in the Bro-burban (Suburban #2). Everything else goes under the RV. Our communication is clumsy. A combination of sleepiness, stress, and the extra words we put in sentences to be polite around new people. We are not yet a machine, but we are working through it. There is urgency and cooperation around our first goal - get Nora to the start. Sixteen humans and a mountain of supplies are in cars and on the road by 4:00am. 

The starting line at the Santa Monica Pier looks like a scene out of The Fast and Furious movie franchise. Teams pose for photos like a posse on the cover of their latest mixtape. The heavy baseline of blaring rap music vibrates through our bodies. A voice comes over the speakers and the racers begin to organize. Nora Bird is focused. She doesn't notice that despite there being three all-female teams in the race this year, and even more co-ed teams racing the course, she's the only woman to walk to the front of the pack and toe the line. The countdown begins "10, 9, 8..." and above the noise we hear the roar of Lauren Fleshman "GIVE 'EM HELL...". The crew, racers, and volée members lining the start answer "OISELLE" before we're drowned out by the chaos around us. "...3, 2, 1" and Nora is through the gate. She isn't smiling, but she's flying. 

Mile 0 - Friday 5:00am, The Santa Monica Pier

While Nora's on the course, our caravan parts ways, following the direction of an insanely smart race and crew strategy devised by Lauren Fleshman.

The racers work in two groups. Group A: Nora Bird (1), Collier Lawrence (2), and Cathleen Knutson (3), run shorter legs in more frequent intervals. Group B: Sarah Overpeck (4), Sarah Bard (5), and Devon Yanko (6), run longer legs and have fewer reps on the course. 

1/2/3/1/2/3/4/5/6 is written on the front page of every Birdstrike member’s map.

Our crew strategy rotates crew pairs across 3 shifts and 2 vehicles.

Lauren Fleshman + Erin Ward (Jungle Chicken)

Meghan Manaois + Robyn Hefner

Meg Murray + Claire Wallace

Each pair moves through an active shift in the RV, an active shift in the suburban, and a sleeping shift in the RV. One crew member drives while the other tends to our racers and navigates the course. 

While one group races, the other group drives ahead and rests, giving people a window of time to recharge and refuel. We plan out exchange points on the course to swap out racers and rotate crew members. We have a plan.

Claire and I were scheduled in the first crew rest shift. I battled back adrenaline and tried to exercise the same discipline as our runners. I told myself they needed me to sleep. I briefly closed my eyes, moments later roused by voices outside the RV window. 

Mile 18 - 7:18am, Sunrise Ford, Downtown Los Angeles

"Where's Cathleen?"

"She should be here by now."

"She's not here."

"I'm calling Robyn. Robyn - where's Cathleen? … What do you mean you don't know? … Is she lost? … What about the film crew? … When did the last see her? … What do we do…."

I knew we’d get lost. But I imagined we'd be lost in the desert trails of California. Or maybe in a highway drainage ditch closer to Nevada. We're in downtown LA. Horns are blaring as cars speed by. There are pedestrians everywhere. We’re standing in the middle of the city's morning commute. There are thousands of people in the streets, and we can’t find Cathleen.

Eleven of us shuffle around a street corner nervously, heads on a swivel, looking for our lost bird. Ten minutes later we see Cathleen, bombing around a corner full speed. Cathleen races fast, her movements calculated. Every stride stronger than the last. She tags in Nora and stops one of the three Garmin watches that are tracking our team across the course. She’s laughing and throws her hands onto her head.

“I got lost!"

We all exhale and hop back into our caravan. All birds accounted for, cars in formation, we head out.

Mile 96, Friday 5:09pm, Adelanto Highway

Ten hours later and Group A is nearing the close of their second rotation on the course. The air is cool, the highway is calm, and the sunset casts colorful layers across the horizon. Collier finishes a fast, flat six and hops back into the suburban. We all breathe in the sunset as we move to our next location. One of us opens WhatsApp (the messaging thread where teams are in communication about their placement / surroundings on the course) and mentions the many teams that are dealing with dogs along the route. Collier breaks her silence.

“I got bit by one on my last segment."

We all sit silently, frozen in disbelief while she tells the story. Chased and bit by a dog who moments later, was hit by a car right in front of her eyes. She wraps the injured animal in her reflective layer and attempts to return it to a confused and defensive owner. Gently placing the dog back in his arms, urging him to take the animal to a vet, she puts her vest back on and finishes her mileage. In a small town, on an unknown street, Collier saves an animal’s life in the presence of strangers, and keeps running. This is the insanity of The Speed Project.

Mile 187 (near leg 30), Friday 11:39pm, Arrowhead Trailhead

The RV is parked at Arrowhead Trailhead at Mile 187, waiting. A few of us tune into The Speed Project’s hourly update to hear the latest ranking and placement of teams on the course. We all hear the news simultaneously - Nike’s Team Global (one of the three all-female teams racing the course) - is hot on our tails. Sarah Overpeck, Sarah Bard, and Devon have just finished the first half of the night shift, and Nora, Collier, and Cathleen are just beginning their own. We have abandoned open highway roads for seedy neighborhoods and complicated trails. The Blackbird is following the active runner at all times, and when the trail gets too tough, we trade the SUV for a mountain bike and ride beside the racer on the course. Davis from the Bro-burban trades his camera for crew duties and guides the team through the night - driving the suburban through dangerous off-road conditions and mountain biking beside racers when the trails get too technical (he later won the crew-hero award for this incredible act of support). When I asked him why, his answer was simple.

“I’m in. We’re doing this.”

Meanwhile, at the Arrowhead trailhead, the RV waits with the sleeping Sarahs and Devon. Trips outside for a desert bathroom break reveal a breathtaking, star-flooded night sky. We set alarms for our next exchange at 4:10am and finally succumb to our sleepiness. But by 3:45am, the whole team is awake and moving.

At 3:57am, after running 24 miles, Devon Yanko has rough news. Her injured ankle’s been through too much on the course, and she’s sidelined for the rest of the race. Devon's news moves like a wave across the team. Crew members confer via text between the two locations. Exhausted runners begin to show signs of defeat. 

And in an instant, we no longer have a plan. The team is too tired to think, let alone contribute to the race strategy. We need a new plan, and if it’s wrong, they won't have options to offer. I hear the words "hard no" uttered in the RV. There are discussions of fairness. Lauren is tired, trying to do math, and I notice she’s having trouble focusing on the page. Racers need to hear the right strategy – an approach they believe they can execute - and get some sleep. I am very tired, and I’m beginning to feel scared.

I call Sarah Lesko — doctor, colleague at the Nest, running expert, wise woman. She is the person I call when I don’t know what to do. She answers, and we talk about the psychology of a race like this. That our racers can complete the mileage, but they need to be able to wrap their heads around the task at hand. We devise a plan: divide the remaining mileage of the course between 6 runners (despite there only being 5 to run it), and cycle runners through it in an even 1/2/3/4/5. No more Group A and Group B - one team, running the rest of the race, together. The leftover mileage (from a missing #6) is left at the end of the course — The ‘Woman-Up' segment. Those 25 or so miles go to the bird who wants it most. The ones who find their legs and choose to bring us home. The women, who woman-up. 

There is silence. And then nodding. And then conversation. And then, I hear it. Nora Bird laughs. 

Chicken (aka crew member Erin Ward, aka Jungle Chicken) normally known for her comedic relief, comes in with something else - hope. 

“Dudes - we can do this. We're DOING this." 

And then I feel it. The energy. An undeniable electricity coursing between the members of the team. In that moment, we evolved from many, to one, and we would never go back. Together, we were going to finish this race.

Moments later I realize the time and quickly mobilize the next group into the Blackbird. We speed off to bring Sarah Bard to the next drop. As the sun begins to rise, our spirits rise too. Not optimism, but a sense of choice, and control. We chose each other. And we were choosing to continue.

Mile 200 - Saturday 5:30 am, Mojave Freeway

With a car parked on the side of the highway, we hop a barbed wire fence and climb down into a drainage ditch for the next exchange. An activity that maybe at one point in my life would’ve felt dangerous or rebellious, now feels functional, even mundane. We wave in Sarah Overpeck – a mileage machine who’s been burning through tough segments at an aggressive pace. And we send out Sarah Bard, into the light of the morning. To watch Sarah Bard race is to see a swan skim the water mid-flight. Calm, elegant, fast, and strong. Her sub 7 minute pace to outsiders looks effortless. But those that know her can recognize that velocity is fueled by a fire within. On and off the course, Sarah quietly tends to her own fire.

Mile 250 - 1:10pm, Death Valley

I've seen and lived mile 18 of a marathon. I know what hurt looks like, and feels like. This is something else.

Doubt. Fear. An emptiness that can't be filled with food, water, or rest. We move through Death Valley one mile at a time. We run through our 1/2/3/4/5 sequence, with most runners only able to stand one or two miles on the 95 degree highway. When a mile is too long, we move meter by meter. The crew rides bikes and runs alongside our racers. We try cold towels and distractions and mind games. We are alone, together. Fighting in the vast expanse of the desert. 

Death Valley broke us all, even our stoic leader Collier. After finishing a particularly challenging climb, I watched Collier return to the RV and immediately climb into a small nook with a banana and some Gatorade. She is staring at the ceiling, quietly crying. Nothing I can offer can remedy her hurt. It is hers, and hers alone. 

But then Nora steps off the course early to give Collier a taste of a downhill. Collier cranks out 4 miles instead of 2 to finish a hill for Cathleen. Cathleen stays on the course longer to give Sarah a little more rest. It’s magical to witness this momentum. Self-generated. Unforced. Born from camaraderie.

This is what teamwork looks like - unselfish harmony. Operating as a single organism, in concert. The crew is dialed too. Eye contact is all we need to mobilize as a group. In the worst leg of the race, and for many, the most treacherous conditions in which they'll ever run, we are churning out mileage. Together, in the hardest leg of the course, we transform a 5 mile lead to a 15 mile advantage on Nike’s Team Global. We are in hell, and we keep going. We even widen the gap.

Mile 310 - Saturday 5pm, Old Spanish Trail

Lauren leaves the suburban and walks to the window of Big Bird. Her face is still. She is calm, but something is wrong. I quickly, instinctively, tally the runners in the RV and find Cathleen running strong in the rear view mirror on the course. One, two, three, four, five...

"Devon is throwing up."

…six.

“We need to take her to the emergency room, now."

Our runners are ruined, but the crew is hurting too. No one is resting. It’s all hands on deck. Every exchange feels an emergency - sprinting to cool a runner down and replace their fluids. Fighting off your own fatigue to get a racer hyped before they step onto the course. And now, there’s a need to pull a vehicle, and a body, off the course to make the 45 minute trip to the closest hospital. One less set of hands, on an increasingly dangerous deck.

Before it can register as another obstacle to the five fighting their way down the highway, we load up the Blackbird and get Devon off the course. I have never driven so fast in my life. Four hours, an IV, and a stabilized body later I am sprinting through a hospital parking lot to head back out toward to desert. I give myself 5 minutes to grab a box of Birdstrike champagne (La Croix) and some donuts for the team. As I work my way back down the highway I start scouring the road for our crew. I notice I’m murmuring the same phrase over and over again on the drive.

They’re doing it.

They’re doing it.

They’re doing it.

I send the familiar "drop a pin" text to the Birdstrike crew but it's not needed. I see the swaying lightning layer from miles away. It looks like we’re dancing in the dark from a distance. I can’t stop smiling. I pull up behind the Bro-burban, now the second crew car, and jump out of the driver’s seat into Nora’s arms. I’m crying.

“We’re winning!” she exclaims. “We’re doing it!" 

Every one of the 5 racers ran a portion of the Woman-Up segment. With calm confidence, we steadily worked our way toward the shining lights of Las Vegas.

Mile 341 - Sunday 1:13 am, Las Vegas

The 5 racers and 6 crew members of team Birdstrike ran the final stretch of the 341 mile course, together. We finished as the first female team, and seventh team overall in The Speed Project 3.0. with a time of 44:27:11. Today, we hold the fastest known time (FKT) for a female team racing that route.

We did it.

So as I walk away from this experience, filled with gratitude for all that I’ve learned, and become, I wish one thing for you all. When adventure comes knocking on your door - disguised as adversity, uncertainty, or risk - say yes.  And make sure to invite your people. Turns out they’ll be on your team, forever.

Team Birdstrike till I die,

We are a brand who's passionate about the sport and committed to our community. We also make clothes for runners of all paces and places. Subscribe to stay connected to who we are, what we make, and the incredible things we do with our community.

Back in October, I was in a weird place of feeling single, feeling like I was getting old (27, yes it's relative), and feeling like I needed some adventure in my life. So, I got on Skype with my two of my best friends from college. We spent four years running, training, and racing together at Syracuse. It had been a while since we talked but we didn’t skip a beat.  After catching up for awhile, we started talking big ideas about travel and seeing the world. The idea took off. We hadn't spent more than two days all together in over five years, so we decided a girls trip was needed. 

We poured ourselves a glass of wine, cheers’d through our computer screens, and booked round trip plane tickets to Europe. 

The next morning, I woke up in a weird fog of WTF. No way did I just do that. So spontaneous. So out of character. So did not ask my people at Oiselle if it was okay yet! I took a big brave breath and posed the idea to my friends at the Nest. The wonder women that they are, wished me the best on my two weeks away. 

All said and done, we booked stays in Brussels, Rome, Florence, and Amsterdam. Pre-trip we built a shared document with all of the must see sights, museums, restaurants, and boat cruises. At the start of our trip, we went off our document. Checked boxes for all the things we did and saw along the way. 

Check, saw the little peeing man.

Check, walked through the Red Light District.

Check, saw The David.

Check, ate the pasta.

Check, went to the Colosseum. 

Five days into the trip, we were in Rome and plotted a run tour to see all the sights. The plan was to run by the Vatican and then finish at the Colosseum.

It was New Year’s Day and after passing the Vatican, we ran along the Roman Forum. 

The sight of it was beautiful and haunting all at once. The ancient ruins standing broken in contrast to the beaming white thrown in the distance. Strong enough to last the storms and weather and of time. Bold enough to be broken down, but not broken all together. 

Running by the memorial grounds of wreckage and resilience, I couldn't help but stop. I closed my eyes, opened and looked out, and just breathed it all in. Without knowing it, it was just the place I had been seeking. Just the moment I needed to witness, feel, and touch. It wasn’t a box to check on our list. It was a moment frozen in time, when I unintentionally pressed pause. 

Whether it was the background music of the Roman Quartet on New Year’s Day, or the stunning backdrop I was staring out at, I felt thankful, at ease, and heard a whisper that told me: This is it. This is what you came for. The beauty is in the breakdown after all. Millions of people travel to marvel at this site from all around the world. And why? Because maybe the place and the history speaks life into everyone in its own way. A worldly wonder that takes your breath away.

There is something magical about international travel that invites moments of pause. When you see, feel, taste, and touch all the things in a childlike way. And breathe it all in, filling your soul up with goodness and gratitude. 

Coming back from Europe, I felt the starry-eyed wonder slipping away. Back to reality. The glorious grind. Wonderful in its own way. But how would I replicate the feelings felt in Rome? How would I find the moment? Mind the moment? And make it count?

Steph Bruce's March #WheelsUp17 Challenge has been the best answer for me. Make time to #PressPause each day. No matter the place. No matter the sights. No matter the situation. Mind the moment and make it count. Soul shaking runs along the Roman Forum don't present in the everyday. But with an intentional pause in each day, it's possible to breathe good vibrations into your life. It's possible to make gratitude a daily habit. And for me, I'm seeing that it's possible to bring a little bit of Italy to Seattle. A little dose of mindfulness and magic to the ordinary. 

Join in the challenge this month, and mind the moment. Take time to #PressPause, and make gratitude a daily habit.

BY: ANDIE COZZARELLI

When I graduated from college I didn’t think I would be sitting here writing the words I am about to write. Graduating from college with a Civil Engineering degree, a job lined up, and no semblance of a running career, I figured this was it. Time for the real world. Problem being, something was missing.

I kept running but in a more dazed and confused way. Did I want it? Could I do something with it? What was I doing and what was I trying to get out of it? I had no idea. I just got up every day and ran. The same route. At the same time. An out and back in the darkness with nothing but my thoughts. It wasn’t until my grandfather died that I realized what running meant to me. His last words to me were “When I get better, I will be at your next race.” As I reflected on that moment I realized that my running journey was not about me. I thought back on all the people who had a hand in getting me to where I was in life. From the email of a stranger who told me to keep running after the abrupt end to my college season, to Allie Bigelow who Google stalked me and told me how good I was going to be. I knew I needed to keep pursuing my running passion but not for me, but to impact others the way I had been impacted.

So, I made some changes to how I thought about running. Changed my motivation and it was no longer a chore. I literally and figuratively changed my route, enjoyed the process, and began connecting with other runners. I knew in joining Oiselle that I felt the most alive when I was putting my foot to pavement, sharing my story, and seeing others succeed.

Now, fast forward to October of last year. I was a month out from my second shot at a debut marathon. It was 10:00PM on October 4th and I should have been in bed but instead I was squeezing in a last min strength workout after getting up at 4:30AM to run, then working from 7:30-6:00PM, doubling, making dinner, packing my lunch, and packing my bags for camp, my hall of fame ceremony, and my race in Boston. I was about halfway through my workout when I crumbled into a ball and burst into tears. All because I saw a cockroach. But, it wasn’t the cockroach. That day I had also gotten a bill from the 10-month ongoing saga with the ambulance service from the Trials. The stress bomb had been building and the cockroach just pressed the button.

I knew I needed to make a change. I reflected on a conversation I had with Pete Rae, the coach at ZAP Fitness. He said something along the lines of “You have to know that YOU ARE good enough.” I had never felt like I had proven myself enough to allow myself to focus on running. But I also didn’t want to get 10 years down the road and wonder, “What if?”. I wanted to take a chance on myself. As my new coach Steph Bruce so perfectly said it, “Give yourself a chance for success.”

So, I did. I made a plan, and on Monday Feb. 27^th I put in my resignation at my engineering job. And it was the scariest, hardest thing I have ever done, but I knew deep in my gut it was the right thing. When you find something in your life that makes you feel like nothing else, go for it. Don’t be afraid to tread outside of your comfort zone for something you are truly passionate about. It may work out and it may not but you don’t want to spend your life thinking of all the things you could have done. Change is scary for a reason. But as runners we thrive outside of our comfort zones. PR’s don’t come from the depths of our own self-critical minds. They come from stepping out of the boxes we put ourselves in, letting our bodies push ourselves to the limits of the unknown and being free to flyaway.

- Andie