Nearly 3,000 people attend the annual Huffing for Stuffing race in Bozeman — that's almost a tenth of the population. Factor in freezing temps and that's one heck of a running crowd in southwest Montana. For good reason: awesome trails, beautiful views, clean air, and a vibrant local running community. Time to tie the laces and move like your body was meant to move.
- Dr. Lou WaltersHow Outside Bozeman Got Me to Run the Ridge Run “You have to write an essay,” said a local runner. We were talking about registering for the Ridge Run. She had been completely coherent up until this statement. I began to assess her for a stroke. Read more >>Tuller, BriggitteIn Montana, attacks on runners and hikers are rare, and most women are assaulted by men they know in places they consider safe—but statistics are no consolation. Read more >>Torvinen, EricMy first time running the Baldy Blitz, I experienced the full gamut of human emotion: from feelings of ecstasy as I ran down off the summit, my yee-haws drowned out by the roar of arctic style winds, to spirit-crushing despair on the ice-cold, bushwhacking decent, rivaled only by the Bataan Death Read more >>Metrick, DeeWhen it comes to sexiness, I want to be the Frank’s Red Hot on my boyfriend’s egg-white omelet. Although this is a very intuitive goal, achieving it is not quite so natural for me. All too often, I find myself being more of a run-of-the-mill sort of condiment, like salt. Read more >>
- Dr. Lou WaltersHow Outside Bozeman Got Me to Run the Ridge Run “You have to write an essay,” said a local runner. We were talking about registering for the Ridge Run. She had been completely coherent up until this statement. I began to assess her for a stroke. Read more >>Reuss, DaveThere are 14 of us lined up at the Grotto Falls trailhead on a cold Saturday morning. The clouds are thick, and you can just about see your breath. There should be that nervous tension that hangs like a cloud around the starting line—but it’s gone. Read more >>Reuss, DaveThe last of the sky’s bruised-purple tint has faded to black, and now it’s anywhere from eleven at night to four in the morning. The miles and hours pile on top of each other until it’s impossible to tell what time it is. Read more >>
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