Two years ago, I ran my first ever trail run. It was 1.5 miles around a lake just outside of town with my friend and ended with me badly twisting my ankle. By the end of that year, I ran my first ever ultra rally trail race in the North Carolina mountains with that same friend (and a few new ones). In those nine months my relationship to nature completely changed. Before I started to run on trails, I defined my time in nature by what I couldn’t do or what I was afraid might happen. I can’t run on trails because I might fall. I can’t go on a hike right now because it is raining. I can’t go camping in the winter because it is too cold. But I did fall. And I did hike in the rain. And I did camp in the cold. And slowly, I found a new kind of power, not just in my legs, but in my new relationship to the world around me. I had the opportunity to know and love and find joy in the moments I had passed up before, assuming they would be miserable. And sure, sometimes they are, but most of time I am glad I didn’t let the rain stop me.