show on the road

cat of nine tails

punctuate the mountain trails 

squash and apple and potato 

farmers bag up crops 

for sale

skunk raises his back

to the gentle chocolate lab

thickened by sugar in the depths 

of the sierras

playing notes of caramel we are

the entertainment. can you spare a twenty? 

we gotta keep this good thing

going   #katyamills

they was kind

they was quiet when i
expected noise and heat
my vertebrae rolled in with laundry
screwed down by the
street spine up like train tracks
over the sierras. i thanked god
they was kind. only heat the machine
my life dry spun the rain
came down in sheets

#katyamills

young noir

rain was licking the drainpipes and teasing the window glass like a young film noir star throwing shade ona honeymoon killing spree in 1953. the screen was silver and we polished it, too. me and you. maybe we're nobody. in the outskirts of a small city, you gave me midtown Manhattan, 1922. I felt like someone whose been kissed on both cheeks. enough of the valley. we went for  Sierras. the high of high peaks.

ultra (run 4 life) - conclusion

Goat Hill was a vertical climb for about a half mile or so, around miles 25-6, up to the second to last aid station where I had some more broth and rested for a while before my run to the finish. There was no running up Goat Hill, no way. I kept asking people where the goat was, who was supposed to carry us up the hill? but nobody knew of any such thing. There were a couple of volunteers halfway to the top of the hill with loudspeakers encouraging us on and doing a little comedy routine to keep us lifted. I was thrilled because I knew I was gonna make it to the end (and my boyfriend's arms), and there was no rain.

I took a strip of K Tape and got someone's help to anchor it on my neck, too, cuz my neck begins to ache late in a race; I think it's because I have such a big head! The tape worked wonders and there would be nothing stopping me for the last stretch to home, not even the great riverbed which we had to climb for a couple miles to the finish line. I powered my way across to the cheers of all the kind people who stuck around, wow, I couldn't believe I was hiking and running for close to 8 hours! I found Tosh and we got the signature frog cupcakes and I showed off my silver medallion and had some BBQ, and we talked to the lively volunteers and runners who I crossed paths with earlier. The wind was whipping up and it was about to rain, so we got in the car and headed home.

post race with Tosh

What a day! The night before, Tosh and I drove up to Auburn so I could pick up my race pack at the Auburn Running Company. While we were there we met some runners, and I was able to go over the map of the race and got some pointers from a nice lady who ran it many times, herself. Then they drew my name from the lottery and announced I had won entry into next year's race, 2018. I was somehow not surprised. Just felt like I was destined to do this one again. Auburn, nestled in the foothills of the Sierras and home to this friendly and down-2-earth ultra community, reminds me of where I come from: the White Mountains, Lakes Region, New Hampshire. It's nice to know I can drive up here anytime from Sacramento, and feel like I am home. It's nice to know I get to do this again, and be with my new friends, next year.

"dry my eyes"

"I want to tell Freddy what happened, I want him to know but where to start? No worries cuz it’s the same Freddy all of the time, letting stuff roll off his back, layin there looking at me and the boy, the patience of a dark planet waiting for light years to arrive, and I tried but at first the words wouldn’t come, Gaptooth quiet sittin between my legs counting my toes with his fingers, when my eyes betray me and well up with tears, and I fall into Freddy and he holds me until the heavy feelin thumbs on outta there like a hitchhiker walking down the margin of a single lane highway disappearin into the Sierras, leavin me with a lighter heart. Gaptooth reaches up with his shirt tail to dry my eyes."            - Book 3. w.i.p