I was raised on a llama farm in a small rural, two bedroom house in Western, MA and sprouted as an athlete in the rolling hills of Vermont. In my adolescence and teenage years I struggled immensely with using my voice, being seen and heard. The thought of attention being on me made me immensely uncomfortable. I was shy, yes, but there was a self consciousness that was palpable. I never raised my hand in class, hid behind others on the field, I hunched my shoulders- curling in on myself to make myself seem small. My internal voice was hypercritical, I must be perfect. I always felt inadequate, even when I was winning. 

In high school I received a full scholarship to attend a 4 year program training downhill racing skiers for the Olympics. I was good but not great. If there had been a gold metal for effort I would have been victorious time and time again. I got to travel the world, meet different people and ski with the best of the best. I learned to use my body as a tool for winning and receiving praise. This pressure only cooked the self imposed drive I placed on myself. Most of the time I felt like I was going to combust, barely holding all of the pieces in one place.

I was uncomfortable in my body. All the time. College was the darkest of days. And we are not talking mild, we are talking extra spicy. I began searching for relief in all the wrong places. Anything to get myself out of myself, and outside of my head. A sweet souled friend in college asked me to go for a run with her my junio year. I was gasping for breath, my legs were burning and I couldn't wait for it to be over. Afterwards I felt present and alive, accomplished even. I felt awake. I had done plenty of high intensity training in high school but this felt different. I was choosing it. I began to run to meet myself, to move my body in a way that felt nurturing and to transmute stuck emotions and sensations. The physical space around me allowed my mind the space to work out the kinks, just like a fine toothed comb. 

My senior year I took one yoga class in a frigid barn surrounded by other stinky hippies. As I impatiently tried to touch my toes and pay attention to my breath, I remember looking up at the instructor.  I watched the way she held herself in front of a room. Being unashingly seen and heard. She looked bright and full of life, loud, luminous and carefree. I wanted that. I pursued a 200 Hour YTT from Kripalu Center for Health and Wellness shortly after graduating in 2013 and began searching. My month-long intensive training blew the doors wide open. You mean there were other people searching too?! YTT gave me the language, tools, guidelines, structures and names for the things I was searching for. After YTT I began seeking experiences to augment in the evolution of my teachings.

My mom worked part time as a server at Bascom Lodge, a lodge built on the top of Mount Graylock in MA. Each year a gaggle of dirty, unashamed hikers would pass through. At this point I knew I loved to run, far. I got curious. In 2013, I set off alone for the Appalachian Trail. The AT spurred a decade-long love affair with through hiking that shaped the trajectory of my life. Each summer I would choose a trail and disappear into nature. At first to find myself but eventually to come back to myself. I promised myself a yearly pilgrimage to help me remember. Through hiking complemented my yoga practice and educated my teaching during the remaining three seasons of the year. I liked the freedom through hiking provided. Life was simple: walk, eat, shit, sleep, repeat. I met other people searching and made friends around the globe. I had wild, crazy, action packed adventures that forced me into the present. I used my body in a way that felt healthy and challenging but kind. By 2026 I had walked over 10,000 miles through the US and spent over 400 days sleeping under the stars. 

In 2018 I ended up in Durango, CO via the Colorado Trail. I was living in my car and needed a place to shower. That's how I found The Sweaty Buddha. Since then, I have begun another type of through hike. Except this one involved stability; home, possessions, relationships, dogs, community, steady job and reliable friends. My perspective began to shift as my needs shifted. What's next? As my commitment to my community has grown so have my roots. Staying in one place and building a life rooted in connection was the next long distance hike at hand.