"Patient, methodical, strong." ca 2011, Johnny "Wasatch" Hart

Here is the culmination of what I've thought about while racing and training all of my life. High school cross country, handicapping high school track shin splints, college triathlon, and now this alienating time-consuming ultra running thing. All those years of miles have layered into this nice big Hannie cake, complete with a decor of mantras.

My first adventure in the San Juan Mountains, en route to Durango for Mountain Pulse camp.

Slow to be steady, relaxed to be ready

Developed: ca 2011 during my first ultra, Tahoe Rim Trail 50k, when I finished in road shoes with throbbing feet.
Relation to racing: Move slow enough to stay steady throughout, and relaxed enough to be ready to flip the switch.
Relation to life: You may have heard the metaphor, "it's a marathon, not a 5k," in the midst of long arduous tasks? ...No?

Imagine how terrifying for a dog: we pop up, gasping for breath the cold knocked out of us, frantically swimming to get terrestrial and dry. Jess and I on point, only day 1 of John's San Juan Ultra Camp.

Tread lightly, run mightily

Developed: summer 2016
Relation to racing: I developed this one while dealing with some crunching knee pain that forced me to run downhill (my favorite) tenderly for 5 weeks. By the time I was really running again, it happened to be down the first descent, 4 miles into El Vaquero. My knee was bomb proof. Bomb downhill proof. I have never had so much fun finishing a race, flying down that last 4 mile 2,500 ft descent to the finish. I yip-yeehaw-weeeed at everyone I passed.
Relation to life: Don't beat yourself up. Speak kindly to and believe in yourself. If you're unsure, proceed conservatively. When you're confident, roll with it.

Myke's photo from the San Juan Ultra Camp.

Flutter by like a butterfly, kick it in like a b*.

Developed: summer 2016
Relation to racing: This is an extension of "slow to be steady, relaxed to be ready." Now that you're done being patient, it's time to be kind. Reel 'em in with poise. After you've minded your p's and q's, retreat within yourself, deep down where vision flickers full of ultraviolet glitches, and fly.
Relation to life: My name, Hannah Louise, means graceful warrior, my mother likes to tell me.

Mirror Lake from Comanche Peak.

If these have all been too long to remember, here are some one word mantras that have helped me along.

Know

Developed: I'm not sure. You don't always know. It comes and goes.
Relation to racing: Knowing yourself is a little different from believing in yourself. You have to know, based on feel, the difference between a 7.4 and 7.5% grade and how to adjust your speed, even if it's just for five steps. Know when you can recover, push, and fly.
Relation to life: Knowing occurs on a much shorter time frame than believing. Life is hard, confusing, and full of hurt. Things can be completely falling apart at every turn of a downward spiral, but you have to know you are doing all the right little things to make it better.

Julia and Murph crusing on Comanche Peak. It is so good to have Montana friends in Colorado.

Pomé
Developed: Listening to Alexi Pappas speak on Runner's World podcast about training for the Olympics. She described a training session in Greece where he running partner repeated "pomé  pomé  pomé " to the beat of each footfall. That's not even how you spell it in Greek, but it means "push," and sounds remarkably more like a heartbeat than the English translation.
Relation to racing: This is literally what I repeated to myself during the last 16 miles of El Vaquero. I was such a robot that an hour into my mediation, when asked apologetically by a mother and daughter to take their photo in front of the Chinese Wall-esque scenery, I responded as a metronome, "it's-okay-it-won't-take-long."
Relation to life: Pay full attention to your intention.

I have a rule I am not allowed to stop to take photos during races (unless of course it's some one else asking), so this one from El Vaquero Loco 50k turned out pretty good!

Also, just have to give a shout out to Afton, WY, which is home to the world's largest elk antler arch (pictured here),  the world's largest intermittent spring, and a parade which encourages children to run out in front of moving vehicles to pick up candy off the ground.

Flatline, redline

Developed: Within the layers
Relation to racing:  It doesn't matter the distance. There is always some point, as long as you're feeling healthful, where you stop thinking about self preservation and focus on absolutely destroying yourself. Max relax or bust. You're going to take time off after this anyway. For the Bear, I plan to run the first 75 miles completely flatlining. This means knowing the slight difference between paces, knowing when to eat and drink, and knowing when to flip the switch and pomé the uphills and bomb the downhills.
Relation to life: I didn't know if I wanted to share my mantras before the Bear, in case I jinxed myself. I decided to because it's what I'm going to believe in, so it doesn't really matter what happens after the fact. I don't know yet if it's actually possible to flatline for 75 miles. I've only ever run 50 miles, and to be honest, I never had much of a switch to flip during those runs. Nonetheless, it's always good to have a plan.

Friends and dogs <3
(Two key characters, Murphy and Ardy, of the San Juan Ultra Camp not pictured here)

The first time of my life summer has betrayed me. The season I was born into has begun to feel unbearably stuffy and thick with haze. It's serpentine heat distorts daily life as if I'm plugged inside a snowglobe. The horizon blotched so close, yet never soupier to approach. Instead of falling off a cliff, I used to "find myself about to biff it on a run right before falling asleep." Now, I'm jolted awake by the morning's split of laser sun over the infamous eastern plains. 

Instead of golden and lithe, I feel weathered and caked stiff. The tall grass I dreamed of falling back in joyful exhaustion, now I want to lay into permanently. I feel for the first year of my life, I'm waiting for the onslaught of autumn.