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Women’s Adventure Scholarship ’23 Winning Essay: Sawtooth Backcountry

The Aspire team is honored to share Makena Rutledge‘s winning essay for the Sawtooth Backcountry Women’s Trip. We’re confident her story will find it’s resonance within you, as it did with us.

When I walked for the first time in a year, it didn’t feel like freedom. My dad picked up his phone to film my first steps through the sliding doors of the hospital into the Seattle winter. He quickly sent the video to our family members, who wept tears of joy. The nightmare was over. The year of infuriating conversations with doctors who refused to believe my pain was real, the late night trips to the children’s emergency room as I screamed for the pain to stop. In their eyes, it was all behind us the moment I walked outside and stepped into the car that would take me towards a normal life. For me, it felt temporary. I viewed my recovery as something fleeting, which could disintegrate into nothing as suddenly as it began. When I walked for the first time in a year, I yearned for the safety and simplicity of the wheelchair that had imprisoned me.

After I reached this turning point, I was left in a bizarre sort of limbo. My body was steadily recovering, ready to chase the ambitions of the future, while my brain was still wallowing in the traumas of the past. Amplified musculoskeletal pain syndrome, the severe neurological syndrome that took my ability to walk and nearly my life, was finally in remission. But my brain would not let me go that easy. A crippling case of PTSD soon settled in, a remnant from the exceptionally painful treatments administered by my doctors. Plagued by vivid nightmares, I was not myself, and I mourned her. I spent much time in my own head, reflecting on who I was before. From a young age, I always had the urge to be wild. I dreamed of remote places in which I could be free from expectations, in which I could take up space unapologetically. It often weighed on me that as free as I felt outside, the world questioned whether I belonged in those spaces. I could not have been fully aware of it at the time, but this was the world getting to me.

There is a specific point in every girl’s life where she becomes her own doubter. Up to this point, the voices telling her she isn’t good enough are solely external. But very quickly, those voices take on a life of their own within her head. The years of negative comments and encounters pile up, leaving her questioning whether there is room for her in the very thing she loves. My moment, when I became my own doubter, was when I was fifteen, just months before I came down with my pain syndrome.

I became aware of this when I was in the worst of my PTSD, and it ushered in the next phase of my life. The harder phase. I was ready to reclaim the wild spirit within me that I thought I had lost. And so, having never run farther than 10k, I had the urge to do something big. Something that would prove to me that I was stronger than my illness, and help me feel like myself again. I signed up for my first 50k in March of 2022, and I instantly felt more powerful than I had in years. I was ready to take a chance on myself, to make a place for myself on the trails that did not exist before. During my illness, my identity was stripped away over and over until I felt small and powerless. Now, all I wanted to do was move through the mountains to feel my power once more. As I trained throughout the summer for my September 50k, I began to feel true, unfiltered joy for the first time in recent memory. I ran along endless ridges and frolicked through alpine meadows, taking in otherworldly views. I allowed myself to be authentic and joyous in these wild spaces and, slowly, they began to heal me. The barriers that used to prevent me from spending time on trail— being too young, too vulnerable, too female— melted away, and I was able to accept them as a part of my experience as a female runner. To embrace these aspects of me meant undoing some of the damage the world had inflicted, and even allowing me to feel strong within my body after such devastation.

As I toed the line of my first ultra in September, I wondered whether the strength and joy I’d found outdoors would be enough to carry me through. The race began in the predawn hours of the morning, and the smoke from faroff forest fires gave the woods an ethereal, dream-like feeling. From the first climb, a relentless 14 kilometer suffer-fest up Whistler Mountain’s rugged slopes, to a spectacular trail fall during which I sliced my lip on a rock, I simply could not contain my joy. I was taking up space on my home trails in a grueling ultramarathon, only two years out of a wheelchair. I felt my own raw power, of both body and mind, and reveled in the experience of it all. I was home. As alpine meadows changed to rainforest on my descent, I could not hold back any longer. I cried tears of sorrow for the pain I had endured, which soon became tears of joy for the gratitude I felt. I did not feel shame. During the descent, I let go of my ideas of how finishing a 50k would heal me. Because in that moment I felt as whole as I ever have. I was out on the trails, finally feeling as though I had the right to challenge myself in that space. Finish or no finish, I was doing exactly what I had set out to do. In that moment, and even today, that feeling of true freedom was enough for me.

Explore the Sawtooth Backcountry Women’s Trip, a wondrous revel in the autumnal North Cascades.

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Women’s Adventure Scholarship Winning Essay: Sawtooth Backcountry

The Aspire team is honored to share Elena Mora’s winning essay for the Sawtooth Backcountry Women’s Trip with you. We are certain that the boldness with which Elena shares both her challenges and stoke for life and running will inspire readers as it did our panel and staff.

I have been labeled as a problem for much of my life. I learned from an early age that this is what happens to women and girls who dare to deviate. I remember being scolded as a little girl when I protested rules that applied to me but not my brothers. It felt right, almost courageous to talk back when I knew the rules were unjust. If staying home after dark made a woman decent, then I wanted to run through a thousand nights until all of the decency purged from my body. I wish I could say traditional Latin American values were the only restrictions I faced, but life had placed loss and displacement in our path like landmines. Still, I never gave up on my dream of becoming a wild woman. I pictured a life where I could run, bike, swim, board, and backpack toward absolute freedom. Today, I feel intense pride in prioritizing this sense of exploration and discovery, and I can’t imagine anything more powerful than living by these values.


For years I mourned the loss of a family, a home, and a childhood. The last thing I had in these situations was control or empowerment. What I did have was the comfort of concrete. I ran to rebel against the hand that life had dealt me, and I found power and agency in simply moving through my neighborhood with intensity. This holds true today because in outdoor places I test my limits on my own terms, and my deepest, most guarded memories become fuel to push harder and faster. Come on girl, you got it. Maybe I’ll smile or maybe I’ll scowl, but what’s certain is that when I’m working toward the next mile or skill, I feel incredible power in knowing I’m a woman who takes her own direction and trusts her own decisions.

In addition to the time actually spent in these spaces, I can’t underestimate the power I have in being able to access them. Last year I bought a previously owned, basic model, manual transmission Subaru Impreza. It may not seem like anything special, but in my eyes it’s the most souped up ride you’ll ever see. Loading my snowboard, bike, or trail running gear feels like an immense privilege because as of six months ago this was not possible. It saddens me to know that the U.S. Bureau of Labor Statistics reports that Latin American women are the lowest paid demographic in the United States. I have been in the restaurant industry my entire working career, and I can confirm that we are often forgotten about and disrespected. My household also reflected this reality. One of the many sacrifices my mother made was to give up English classes in order to care for us, and her own hobbies and interests were never prioritized. I am a Latin American woman—and unlike so many of us—I am in charge of my finances and my time. When I’m lost in the flow of my movement, I remind the world and myself that we are strong and capable. In return, these spaces grant me a spiritual and physical power that I bring with me into all aspects of my life.

View from Angel’s Landing at Zion National Park


I spend time in the outdoors to shed the weight of what it means to be a woman, but also to feel the strength within it. I love listening to my reggaeton playlist while I braid my long, curly hair and contemplate which sports bra better matches my shorts. This past January I was so pretty and strong in my pink and purple outfit while I flew down my first black diamond. I just want to thank Bad Bunny for believing in me. I felt a rush of confidence in finally connecting all of my turns. All of the times I have fallen have led me to this. I felt powerful in persevering and in doing it while looking and feeling cool. This is because women in sports that dare to care about the way they look have often been perceived as superficial or incompetent. I am neither.

I recall a time when existing in the outdoors was only a daydream. Only those that have been starved can understand the intense hunger that consumes me. I find empowerment in our wild spaces through the hope it gives me and through the knowledge that I have made—and continue to make—a better life for myself. In these spaces, I am powerful when I represent myself as resilient and determined, as a woman with style and swag, and as a figure that’s beautiful and free. Do you see it yet? I want the world to witness that women can do it all. You can catch me pulling up to our outdoor spaces in my bright blue ride with my frizzy mane and Latin beats, feeling empowered to finally take my place as a wild, powerful woman.

Elena Mora grew up exploring north Jersey’s urban sprawl and currently resides in Boston. She loves cycling through the city, running the trails, and daydreaming of her next backpacking trip. Whether it’s hammocking near the river or heading toward the mountains, she is always ready for the next adventure.

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Seeing Possibilities on the Wonderland Trail

Last year, Aspire received a call from @teamseepossibilities about doing a custom trip around the Wonderland Trail for blind runner Dan Berlin and his guides. Their team goes on epic endurance challenges never done by a blind athlete, inspiring individuals, with or without disabilities, to go beyond perceived limitations.

Fast forward this month, when Dan and his team of guides faced the challenges of the Wonderland Trail head on. This is their trip report.

In the early morning of August 2, 2021, we strapped on running packs and set out on the Wonderland Trail. With over 23,810 feet of elevation gain and 5 major river crossings, the Wonderland Trail is a series of long, rugged ascents and descents around the circumference of Mt. Rainier just below the glacier line. 

 The goal: Complete this grueling, 93-mile trek in 3 days.   

The inspiration: If successful, Dan would become the first known blind athlete to complete this extreme endurance challenge. We hoped to inspire people with disabilities to set ambitious personal and professional goals. We were also raising money for Team See Possibilities Global Scholarship fund, which supports students with vision impairment with financial scholarships, peer-to-peer support, and monthly mentorship by Dan and other successful blind professionals.

The problem: In addition to the obvious physical challenge of trekking the circumference of Mt. Rainier, the narrow, often rock-strewn trail presents particular problems to a person who is blind. Even with Brad and Charles calling them out, Dan often tripped on protruding roots. His ankles rolled uncomfortably on the uneven terrain with the ever-present threat of a major sprain. The many loose volcanic rocks gave him a strange sensation of vertigo from their constant shifting movement under his feet. Overhanging tree branches and foliage hitting his face disoriented him. And drop-offs along the trail presented an ever-present risk – often, one of Dan’s guides nudged him to safety just before he took one wrong step into a serious fall. Brad and Charles found it exhausting to stay ever alert, and realized the techniques that had worked on previous adventures were falling short.  To stay safe, we had to move cautiously. As a result, the first 34-mile section of the trail took over 21 hours to complete. Arriving around 4 a.m. at the Mowich Lake campground, we discussed our options and decided that the combined physical demands and mental strain made the risk of injury too great to continue. A kind volunteer from Aspire Adventure Running drove us out of the wilderness.  It’s always disappointing when you fail to accomplish a goal, but sometimes the most disciplined option is to stop. And if you never fail, you are certainly not setting your goals high enough. We were gathering data throughout those 34 miles, and realized it wasn’t prudent to continue. As a result, the Wonderland Trail Challenge became 21 hours traversing 34 rugged miles and climbing 10,000 feet on a stunning mountain.   

Taking on endurance challenges like the Wonderland Trail is analogous to the experiences of the Team See Possibilities Scholars we support. A student who is blind going to college for the first time is both excited and intimidated. There are few role models to follow, few peers to connect with. You must learn to ask for help and work as a team. Your resourcefulness and ability to adapt are tested constantly. You are unsure of the outcome, but you proceed anyway. Sometimes things go as hoped. When they don’t, you learn from the experience, then set your next ambitious goal.   A great way to go through life is to do physically challenging things in nature with people you like, and link it to a meaningful cause. And that’s exactly what we’re going to continue doing. Team See Possibilities will take on more endurance challenges. We’ll continue to provide scholarships to students with vision impairment. And we challenge everyone we meet with this simple piece of advice: go beyond your perceived limits.

​Team See Possibilities inspires and empowers young people with vision loss to thrive and excel. Learn more about their mission and vision at www.teamseepossibilities.com.

If you can dream it, we can crew it. Learn more about Aspire custom trips.