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I hate making decisions. Maybe it’s a fear of choosing wrong, or a classic case of FOMO. Either way, I end up trying to juggle everything rather than set anything aside. My journey as a multisport athlete is a textbook example of this unwillingness to choose—I’ve been climbing and running at a high level for a combined four years now. Both sports speak to me and add to my life in important ways, but the learning curve of balancing the two passions was steep.
Growing up, my father would always tell me that “patience is a virtue…that the Hanes family doesn’t have, sorry kid.” I don’t really think he felt that sorry. He viewed our collective lack of patience as an advantage, something that spurred us on to actively chase the dreams we wanted rather than bank on the off-chance that they’ll come to fruition on their own given enough time. I’ve shared in that mentality ever since.
Dear old Dad also reveled in another so-called “asset” among members of our family: a stubborn streak that would put the most sleep-deprived toddler to shame. Dinner table disputes looked more like heated courtroom trials than healthy family discussions, and we offspring quickly learned how to give our lawyer father a run for his money (even if he’d never admit it). He always hoped I’d wind up on the bar too. But the ability to unwaveringly stick to my guns led me to rocks and trails instead.
Climbing came first. I experimented with bouldering in college before moving west to Colorado and falling into the trap that is the Rifle sport climbing scene. I planned on being a blissful prisoner there for life from there on out, pinned down by unlimited projecting potential. I loved how deeply I could sink into every climb, how much intensity and undivided attention each route demanded. I even appreciated the rarity of sending. That way, I barely ever had to come up for air. The all-encompassing nature of climbing in the canyon had me by the throat and I didn’t mind one bit.
I began running on my days off from climbing as a way to get the rest of my ya-ya’s out. It grew out of a more disordered mindset than I could admit for a while. I wanted a way to burn off more energy between climbing sessions and keep myself busy. I called myself an “energizer bunny,” but truth be told that was just a cover for untreated anxiety.
But since I have trouble doing anything casually, time on feet quickly became another source of passion that I craved just as much. I didn’t want to wait for winter to run and summer to climb, giving up the other in the meantime for the sake of energy conservation. So I didn’t.
Quality suffered for a while. The first season of concurrent racing and redpointing wasn’t pretty. I chalked it up to my body needing time to adjust, and kept with the program. Some may call that patience. It felt more like insanity, wearing myself out with laps up and down the canyon before my project even went into the shade.
I’d realized by that point that I did actually care about running as more than just a side hustle to climbing or a calorie torcher. In fact, I loved it for the exact opposite reason that I loved to climb. Time on rock gave me the chance to think about nothing but the moves in front of me. Running, on the other hand, allowed me to think about everything. The two in tandem gave me more mental space and clarity than I’d ever experienced—and I wasn’t about to lose that.
How It’s Going
I’m not necessarily proud of the origin story. But I am proud of where I’ve taken the narrative from there.
Something had to give. I’d been so laser focused on burning as much as possible, as quickly as possible, that I hadn’t factored longevity into the equation. But at the rate I was going, I wasn’t going to last very long in either sport.
I started by rearranging my training schedule to better balance the demands. The result is something that I still stick to today.
- The week starts with a regular visit to the Church of the Sunday Long Run. These explorative miles form the foundation of my running. They help me practice logging hours on my feet, getting uncomfortable for long stretches of time, spending time alone with my thoughts, enduring a variety of environmental conditions, fueling myself well on the go, and streamlining my setup.
- I chase that with another slightly less long run the next day for back-to-back mileage so my body gets used to carrying that fatigue.
- After refilling the glycogen stores and sleep tank, I dedicate Tuesdays to climbing—either projecting outside or limit bouldering in the gym—and cap that off with an hour of mellow running.
- Workout Wednesday means getting speedy with intervals or a tempo session, followed by mandatory rest from both running and climbing on Thursday.
- I take my “weekend” on Friday and Saturday at the crag or ticking off boxes in the gym, complete with easy early morning runs each day.
- I fit in work time throughout the afternoons and evenings most days of the week.
- Then it’s time to rinse and repeat.
This routine essentially pairs easier efforts (or rest) in one sport with harder efforts in the other. I can then prioritize each day’s main focus so I’m never too overwhelmed—either physically or mentally. It still took plenty of practice. But I quickly found that I could show up excited and energized for both sports much more consistently, which made putting in the practice possible.
The biggest change, though, came down to mindset. I realized that I needed to stop trying so damn hard all the time. That was the real issue. I wasted so much energy on minutiae that I had nothing left for the big stuff, either in my sports or in the rest of my life. Maxing out my heart rate on every run and dragging out every climbing session until I fell off V3 wasn’t serving me. I finally asked myself what mattered more: burning energy or using it wisely?
This involved analyzing my training schedule for what deserved the most output. Long runs and speed workouts earned that designation on the running side. In climbing, I nixed superfluous sessions and cut out fluff time that only served to make me feel better about being at the gym for a certain amount of time. I focused on keeping my easy runs truly easy and my rest days truly restful so I could recoup energy between the hard efforts. I also ate more food, got more sleep, set more goals, made more friends, and had more laughs. The key word here is “more.” I transitioned from a mindset rooted in getting by on as little as possible to one that sought abundance. I wanted to see what would happen if I gave myself more to pull from, instead of just barely enough.
I’m still working on it. I think it’ll be an eternal work-in-progress. But the results speak for themselves so far. As the clock struck three in the morning on August 20th, I crossed the finish line of the Leadville 100 as the female runner-up. One month later, to the day, I clipped the chains on my first 5.14 sport climb: The 7 PM Show in Rifle Mountain Park.
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I no longer just show up to the crag or the trailhead; I show up ready to put up a real fight. And if the fire isn’t there, that’s my cue to step back and recharge until I can feel the heat again. I try not to force it; I find that the flame burns brighter on its own accord.
Tips
- Nothing can replace quality training. Time is the number one factor. That includes time to experiment and struggle in your own way. Even when I wasn’t operating under the wisest training plan, I was still setting bricks in the foundation. Figuring out first-hand what did and didn’t work for me personally—mistakes and all—led me to make the adjustments that got me here today. There will be growing pains. Suffer them and learn from them.
- The rest comes down to effort and attitude. Try hard, but not all the time. Not everything needs all the gas you have in the tank. Allocate your fuel wisely so you only scrape the bottom on the most important occasions.
- That means setting boundaries. Care less when you can so you can care more when it counts. Protect your energy as your most precious resource. It’s not selfish, it’s smart. It’s what allows you to show up fully for the sessions, situations, people, and things in your life that deserve it most. Otherwise you risk half-assing them all. And trust me: once you find out what whole-assing feels like, there’s no going back.