Hammering Since 2015
Half-Chaps, Helmet and Heart: The Gift of Global Connection
I didn’t expect to enjoy it this much, to shape me, or to uncover so many unexpected layers of meaning and connection.
I’m an admittedly unusual and somewhat undeserving Hammer ambassador, invited to be part of a vital global community. This new chapter of my life finds me traveling the world with a pair of trail running shoes, a bike helmet I barely know how to adjust, half-chaps that usually trigger customs inspections, and a few trusted Hammer products tucked in my pack. It’s not a traditional path, but it’s brought more delight, humility, and human connection than I ever imagined.
I didn’t set out to represent anything. I just wanted to keep moving — to enjoy ultrarunning, see more of the world, and stay in motion long enough to find my footing after my husband Corey died of pancreatic cancer at 45. His illness and death unfolded in just four heartbreaking, “love with everything you’ve got” months, ending our 30-year journey together. As I wandered solo, I found myself meeting people—athletes of every age, ability level, and background — whose stories reminded me why sport is such a beautiful universal language, and that most people face hard times in this life, yet remain determined to keep showing up. When I started taking myself seriously as the ambassador Hammer invited me to be, others did too.
Since 2023, I’ve cycled point-to-point through rural villages along India’s Malabar Coast and similar stretches of Thailand, Cambodia, and Vietnam. In 2024, I let other legs do the work — horses (also one camel, one elephant) — through equestrian treks in Crete and North Africa. I ran and hiked whenever I could, and what surprised me was how much curiosity and conversation I sparked along the way, especially wearing Hammer gear.
In Alappuzha, Kerala, schoolgirls in uniform cheered like I was winning Olympic gold. In Marrakech, teenage boys playing soccer struck up a French/Arabic/English conversation about my calves, and loved the Hammer gels I shared. Conversations were often limited by language, but never by enthusiasm. Smiles, gestures, and Google Translate got us a long way — sharing routes, safety tips, fueling advice for heat that sometimes topped 102°F. Hammer products are made for natural, joyful exchanges — a small way to say thank you, to bridge the gap between strangers.
Many athletes I met — especially young people and women — train with far fewer resources than we have in the U.S. But their passion is fierce. It’s humbling to witness. I often wonder if I’d have their resilience if our situations were reversed. I rode with cyclists who were national champions, trail runners whose families survived genocide, horseback guides working grueling hours and three jobs to support their families, and women who ran endless laps at 4 am on a tiny track at a military base for privacy and safety. We exchanged playlists, swapped recovery tips, and rode together with joy. Leaving behind all my Hammer samples felt like the very least I could do. I came back far richer.
Sharing a gel or HEED isn’t just about product promotion. It’s about presence. It’s a way to say, I see you. We belong to something global, something strong, something good.
I’ve also stretched myself along the way — not just in the familiar realm of trail running, but by venturing into cycling treks (still learning to properly shift gears) and very much into the world of equestrian adventures, which is both exhilarating and terrifying for someone more used to two legs than four. If you want a core workout, go riding. Straight up a mountain toward the Lassithi plateau at a gallop in a hailstorm, if you really want to work your quads and add an adrenaline boost.
What I’ve learned: it’s not the races alone that shape us; we focus so much on performance in competition. It’s the long, reflective miles, the strangers who become friends along a winding trail, the moment of wonder catching the perfect sunset over the ocean. The ability to adapt, ask for help, suspend judgment, see kindness and courage in others, to listen, to stay open. Those are the miles that matter — and the ones that prepare us for everything else.
So as I follow this winding road—next stop, Japan—I am grateful for the people who welcomed me, for the Hammer tools that helped me connect, and for the wild, wonderful world of movement that gives me such perspective and reminds me we’re all in this together, with something to offer each other.
