October 2026
They say “don’t cry because it’s over, smile because it happened,” and yet here I am, crying AND smiling, remembering all of the meaningful moments packed into the three days I spent just over one week ago at the Stride and Story retreat, in Denver, CO.
Stride and Story was a retreat hosted by Kara Goucher and Mary Pilon, known worldwide for their accolades in running and writing. Beyond their professional reputations, they are genuinely kind, encouraging, and powerful women, who I had the pleasure of getting to know. Kara and Mary are dedicated to uplifting others, to using their voices (and pens) for good, and this weekend, to sharing their wisdom and stories with the small group of retreaters alongside them. Us retreaters additionally had the opportunity to meet and learn from Kira Stokes, renowned fitness coach and founder of the Kira Stokes Fit App. 28 of us traveled from far and wide to spend the weekend with Kara, Mary, and Kira. 28 strangers who came together with shared passions, and who left as friends and witnesses to the magic that was Stride and Story.
The last time I can remember traveling alone was when I had to fly to a city far from home for a very different reason– to go spend several months as a patient, living at an eating disorder treatment center. This time was very different. Though I still struggle with self-doubt, and though I was incredibly nervous about this solo endeavor, I chose to invest in myself. To take the risk that came with traveling somewhere I’d never been, and spending time with people I’d never met. Taking that risk was worth it in a way that I cannot fully express in words.
After touching down in Denver, I met up with a fellow retreater to ride together to the All Inn Hotel, a boutique hotel that served as our homebase for the weekend. The car ride was the first step in easing my anxieties— the retreater I rode with was incredibly kind and inviting— open to getting to know me, as I, her. I felt the same when I gathered with the rest of the group prior to, and during, our first dinner together. Each person that I met had an openness that matched my own, and a familiarity in that we shared the same love for running and writing. That first night was only scratching the surface of the connections we’d form, but it set the tone for the rest of the weekend. Eating our delicious family-style dinner that I (and several others) paired with wine, under the soft glow of evening lights, I found comfort in starting to make meaningful connections. I became more excited than nervous to continue that momentum into our first full day, and to soak in every moment that I could.
All photos included are by the incredible Sarah Stafford!
The next morning, it was a much brisker day than I’d felt in a while as we gathered to embark on our morning run, many of us clad in our brand new Brooks gear, ready (or, at least pretending to be ready) to brave the cold. We walked quickly to a nearby park, and started off on our first run together. What struck me then was that every single person was simply soaking in the beauty of the park and chatting excitedly, rather than worrying about pace, time, or distance run. My goal had been to purely enjoy the togetherness of the runs over the course of the retreat, along with the beauty of our surroundings. Luckily, everyone seemed to share this mindset. Running in a group with Kara and several others, we focused on each other, rather than on the usual metrics that might typically determine how well a run went. Though I had not yet spoken at length with the women I found myself running with, I soon realized that they too were open to getting to know me, and to sharing their own stories. The longer we ran, the longer we talked, I felt my anxiety dwindle further and further. If you look at any of the photos that the incredible Sarah Stafford has shared from throughout the weekend, some of which are included here, you can clearly tell that I began to embody the Brooks slogan, “Run happy,” to its fullest extent.
After enjoying morning coffee and breakfast together, we gathered for our first writing workshop with Mary. Provided with our own Stride and Story journals, I leafed through the initial pages, which had been thoughtfully filled with book recommendations, advice, quotes, and questions to ponder, landing on a blank page, ready to write. I took notes as Mary shared her advice on incorporating writing into our busy lives, on how to really “show” rather than “tell” with our writing, and on the editing process, along with many other tips and tricks that I will no doubt incorporate into my own writing practices. I felt another ping of nervousness when Mary prompted us to write a one-pager, and then to partner up and share with each other. I love to write. But to read out loud to another person that I was just starting to get to know, felt like a new level of vulnerability. I was relieved, though not surprised, when I was met with nothing but a gentle eagerness to know more about myself and about the story that I shared, and how it had impacted my life. I listened, rapt, to my partner as she shared her one-page story in return. The things shared in that space throughout the weekend will always remain in that space, but what I will say is that there was so much depth to every participant. A depth that I am blessed to have been privy to. And a depth that reminded me that there is so much more beneath the surface of every person, and it is a gift when that is revealed to us.
At this point, we filed outside to find Kira Stokes in all her glory— ready to go, with yoga mats set up for each of us, and Kira bands laid out on every mat. I could tell right off the bat that Kira was a powerhouse— incredibly passionate about what she does, and equally passionate about sharing her knowledge with us. I found that I was always either smiling or grimacing when I was with Kira— never an in-between— smiling because of the motivation she shared and her positive attitude, or grimacing because of the physical challenges she laid upon us. Challenges that were really freaking hard— muscles shaking and screaming in response— yet surrounded by strong women and led by the ever stoked Kira Stokes, were made less intimidating. None of us hid our discomfort— joking with each other and with Kira about what we were enduring— a shared experience that further strengthened our bonds with each other (and, of course, strengthened our bodies, too).
Trekking back into the warmth of the hotel, I collected my thoughts before I headed to my 1:1 session with Mary. I sank into the plush, cozy chair across from her, but leaned forward eagerly and nervously as we started talking. I found it difficult to share what I wanted to write about face-to-face with someone, let alone someone as talented a writer as Mary, who also happened to be someone I was incredibly inspired by. Mary could not have been more steadfast in her encouragement. She listened, thanked me for sharing, and transitioned into conversing with me about how I could go about writing my stories, and why I wanted to share them in the first place. Though I went in with doubts about first, whether I would be able to convey what I wanted to share via written word, and second, whether those words could have an impact, her own firm confidence in me bolstered my determination and perspective. Hearing from others afterwards about their own 1:1s, they too experienced sparks of motivation and increased confidence that their goals were feasible, even if the road to get there would be a journey in and of itself.
At this point, the cold morning air had snaked its way into my bones, calling for a hot (very hot) shower, and a change into “real” clothes. Sufficiently warmed, I then walked— wearing more appropriate layers this time— with some of my new-found friends to a local bookstore. A cozy, eclectic space where I snagged another coffee, and of course, a book. As more and more retreaters trickled into the shop and joined our conversation between the center shelves, a passing bystander would have thought we’d been a large group of friends for years.
The same energy continued into the evening, where we sat by the wood-paneled bar with glasses of wine, or in my case, the rest of my coffee, and mingled before dinner. I, and several other women including Kara, relaxed into scattered couches and pulled-up chairs, growing our circle every time the elevator dinged and another friend stepped out to join. I’m not sure that I ever stopped smiling as we chatted about topics ranging from funny collegiate running stories, to how sore we were from Kira’s strength session, to protein bar rankings, and random tidbits from our lives. Laughter would sporadically erupt as conversations stretched and branched around us.
We shrugged on our extra layers, and didn’t break our conversations as we walked to a nearby Mexican restaurant for dinner. There, tightly packed at long tables under the rainbow paper flags, we enjoyed each others’ company alongside freshly made Mexican food. I was lucky enough to sit with Mary, Sarah, and several more women who made the conversation easy and the joy plenty.
I fell into bed a bit slap-happy that evening. Overtired, a little bit giddy, and very relieved that we still had another full day ahead of us to enjoy before our departure on Sunday. Though quite excited for the day, the alarm still felt far too early when it went off on Saturday morning. I sleepily changed into my running gear, and gathered downstairs with the group for some pre-run coffee and snacks. That morning, instead of running at the local park, we boarded a bus to ride about 35 minutes to Davidson Mesa– a stunning mesa with panoramic views of the already snow-capped mountains, overlooking Boulder— where the gravel trails were perfect for a morning long run workout. We ran loops around the mesa, while incorporating some timed pick-ups into our runs, as Kara cheered us on, bouncing from spot to spot along the path. Though the air felt thinner as the altitude change truly hit me, I think I was more so leaping rather than running— just overflowing with gratitude, awe and joy. For where I was, for how far I’d come, and for having the opportunity to be with people who felt like home away from home. I will never forget going around a bend and seeing Kara, someone I’ve admired for so long and who inspires me to no end, cheering, “Erin! Altitude who?? You look great! You belong in the mountains!” I think that she was exactly right. People kept telling me afterwards that I looked so happy while I was running– and honestly, that is the greatest compliment they could have given.
Back at the All Inn Hotel, we scarfed down breakfast and settled into our spots for our second writing workshop with Mary. This time, we covered a couple of different methods to structure our writing pieces, tips on editing, and an overview of what the publishing process is actually like (among other useful and practical tidbits of advice). The writing exercise, a follow-up on the previous day’s one-pager, incorporated a new level of meaning behind each of the stories we had chosen. This time, sharing with my partner didn’t feel as scary. Hearing from others about what the exercise was like for them, there was a true consensus. Every writer seemed to have a true “wow” moment— whether in discovering a greater meaning within their own work, or gaining a more whole understanding of the full meaning behind their partner’s story.
Everybody seemed to still be a bit lost in thought as we trickled towards the hotel’s outdoor space to meet Kira again, for our last strength session. Met with equal energy as on day 1, we jumped right in, pausing briefly midway through to relocate to the sunny nearby park and wrap up there. You could tell that I had become comfortable with those around me by then because at that point, instead of pretending that the camera wasn’t there when Sarah came around, I instead would make faces at her and her lens, letting my silliness come out.
Following another brutal yet rewarding session, we freshened up and each enjoyed a slower afternoon. I sat in the lobby, people-watching and writing, content with my comfortably sore legs, my iced latte, and the words I was writing on the page before me. Others curled up in the cozy seats with their own laptops or books around me, and simply existing in a space side-by-side in comfortable silence with my newfound writer friends was a memorable experience in and of itself.
When my mind was ready to rest from writing, I took a quick walk in the sunshine, popping in and out of the vintage stores that lined our street. I then returned to enjoy the pre-dinner company of my fellow retreaters once more.
During our pre-dinner gathering, again, laughter was abundant and the conversations flowed easily. As such, we seamlessly transitioned straight into dinner, where we savored both our meals and each other’s company.
While the entirety of the weekend was magical, what came next was special in a way that has stuck with me every single day since, and will stick with me for a long time to come. On the schedule was a Q & A session with Kara, and Mary— a final, dedicated, in-person opportunity for us to ask them questions about themselves, their careers, or whatever else was on our minds. As it turns out— there was a whole lot on our minds outside of their successes in running and writing. What began as a Q & A turned into a meaningful dialogue between women (and a brave man!)— about gender equality (or more specifically, the lack thereof), about making an impact in our sport, and about the ways in which we navigate the world. I was able to ask a multi-faceted, deep-rooted question, replies to which came not only from Kara and Mary, but from the other beautiful people surrounding me as well. Again, what was shared at retreat will stay there, so I will not go into specifics about what was said. What I can say is that each person who gave me advice, who shared their own experiences and growing pains pertaining to the area of my life that I was questioning, and who gave me warm, kind encouragement, will forever hold a special place in my heart. I can vividly see the faces of the women who spoke to me, and remember their words, when I think back on that night. Their kindness and relatability filled me up with a raw gratitude and warmth too great to contain. How wonderful it is to feel loved, to feel accepted, and to feel seen.
I reflected on this night and on the retreat as a whole the next morning, after our easy pre-travel run and breakfast, during our final writing session. We were prompted to write a letter to ourselves, that we will receive in the mail 6 months from now, about what we were taking with us from the weekend and what we could commit to doing for ourselves moving forwards. I think the true magic of the weekend, for me, lay in that I felt wholly accepted by every human during the entirety of the weekend together. I am terrible at remembering names— but I can assure you that I will remember the name of each and every single person who attended this retreat. Never did I feel as though I was an outsider. Never did I feel as though my voice didn’t matter, or wasn’t appreciated. Never did I feel like I didn’t belong, or that there was an air of exclusivity about any person present. Never was I treated differently after sharing the things that I’ve been through. I was simply accepted. Treated like a human being who is smart, strong, capable, and just as deserving as anyone else. There are times that I am regularly surrounded by people and yet still feel alone— but at Stride and Story, this did not occur even once. For me– that I could risk independently putting myself out there in a big way, taking on a new adventure despite my fears, and end up having a group of strangers accept me wholeheartedly as I am– was a lesson and a reminder of my own strength and capability. It reminded me of who I am, and who I hope to grow to be in the future. It was my fellow retreaters, Kara, Mary, Kira, Sarah, and Liz who unknowingly lifted me up in an invaluable way. A way that allowed me to unearth a stronger confidence within myself– to remain firmly rooted in my own person, to hold tight to my core beliefs, and to let those values guide me forward. So this is what I commit to– to simply allowing myself to be fully me, to accept that people can take me or leave me for it, and to give others the gift that I was given this weekend– the gift of being seen, valued, and respected. As humans, though we all have different stories, we are much more alike than we realize.