Hundo prep. My cheat sheet. She's curled up on the ground and I'm kicking the shit out of her. Yeah... and she sobs every now and then but mostly she's quiet. Then I step on her and pin her head to the ground. I tell her she's not allowed to speak to me ever again. That she needs to keep her fucking mouth shut. I tell her she will never EVER get in my way again and if she even so much as whispers I will be on her, shoving my fist in her gut and wrenching her to the ground. I'm done with her. She can die now. She doubts me. A lot of people do. Even people very close to me doubt me. Despite the fact that I'm stronger than I ever have been in my life. Despite the fact that I know I have the capacity to endure. Despite the fact that I have persevered through pain and distance before. Despite the fact that the trail runner inside me is clawing to climb up mountains and run steep descents. Yeah. I haven't been running mountains lately (except small mileage in ...

WARNING: This post is NOT about cute kitties massaging each other.  I had never met this man in my life. He was an older gentleman with a quiet voice and happy eyes. A very paternal figure with a comforting presence. I had no idea how much pain he was about to inflict on me.  I was naked and lying on the table staring at the vintage PBR mural on the wall, draped in tension, exposed and vulnerable and before I knew it I was screaming obscenities. Really. And it was LOUD. And HOLY CRAP it was painful.  Dude was digging fists, knuckles and elbows into my body like it was a fucking martial art. He mashed areas of my body no masseur would ever dare to touch. He started with my glutes, crushing his entire body weight into my ass cheek with his fist. Then when he found the knot - OH HOLY FUCK!!!! Here we go...  ...the knot moved off his knuckle but he catches it with his fist until he has it pinned and then... "OH GOD!!! OH GOD!!!! FUUUUUUUUUCK!!! OH FUCKING HE...

Fuck all the flim flam and lets get down to bizness... CONGRATULATIONS Trail Mama and Dolphyngyrl!!! You won the last of my HooRags!! Email me your address so I can ship these to you.

This giveaway closed 8.13.13 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .  Alrighty then... are you ready for another giveaway? The Buff. Also otherwise known as a Hoorag. On occasion it's found as a swag freebie in our race bags. Most runners have no clue what to do with this random piece of fabric. Wear it on your head? Yup. Wear it around your neck?  That too. Wear it as a totally inappropriate hoochie dress?  Um. Maybe not such a good idea. One word. Chafing. Besides, unless you happen to earn a living wearing clothing that barely covers your love taco I would suggest you use it in less extreme ways. But come to think of it... paired with some killer thigh high, patent leather boots I'm sure it makes a pretty sassy accessory for prostitutes. But, I happen to wear my buff mostly around my waist like this... I use it to carry my phone, keys, small flashlights, sunglasses, peanut butter sandwiches, handi-wipes or whatev...

Wearing a bikini at Donner Lake. I caught myself in a "what other people think" spiral the other day. I really hate when I do that. Its totally unhealthy and disparaging, and frankly, I'm a little disappointed that I let those thoughts control me. That kind of thinking often tries to dominate the most menial of my decision making. Those thoughts make me wanna punch myself in the face Fight Club style. I usually put up a good fight though and lately I've been the champion of a few, but sadly... sometimes... they win. So what was the stupid task that triggered this whole in-head drama?  I decided to change my profile pic on facebook.  Yup.  Stupid, huh? Here's what that stupid conversation looked like in my head... Krista Who Gives a Fuck I wanna update my Facebook page profile. Our vacay at Donner was so nice and relaxing. Those would be good. Krista Who Doesn't Give a Fuck I love that shot from that little summit above the train tunnel. Tha...

Seriously. He can abduct me any time... Jeez, Krista, you haven't written in your blog for over three weeks. Have you... a. Been held captive by a tribe of chimps wearing pants and carrying sharp sticks? b. Been abducted by aliens disguised as Brad Pit and Matt Damon? (I don't give a shit if they're from another planet if they look like Brad Pitt or Matt Damon I will succumb to their every sample.) c. Are you on the floor of your gym and can't get up?  d. All of the above  If this were an S.A.T. question test professionals would suggest that if you aren't sure of the answer then your best choice is C. So lets go with that.  Its C then. Although, I think I'll fantasize about B for a while... Anyway... I've been pretty wrapped up in my training lately (as well as other fun stuff). I don't post my workovers anymore because frankly I forget what I do every day at my gym ... hey... that's what happens when I deprive my brain of oxygen ...

Eric, Maggie, Me and Ray (Photo taken by Eric Schranz on the Flume Trail) Back in May I ran the Flume Trail up in Tahoe. Actually, it was my mother's day present. While most moms were getting a spa day I got a run day, which for me is almost as rare as a spa day.  Ok. That's a bit of an exaggeration since the word "rare" is a drastic understatement in terms of spa days. I've never had a spa day. So I met up with other running crazies - my friend Maggie, Eric Schranz (from Ultrarunner Podcast ) and fellow artist/runner Ray Rios to carpool up to Incline Village, Tahoe. We parked near the Tunnel Creek Cafe and ran about 3 miles up - in this case "up" really means UP -  Tunnel Creek road to the Flume trail. The flume is a portion of the trail that I never got to see last year while crewing for Jesse Scott at the Tahoe Rim 100 cuz we were too busy running up and down Tunnel Creek to crew Jesse. Little did I know I was so close to some fun trail that...