On Sunday February 9, 2025 the Philadelphia Eagles will take on the Kansas City Chiefs in Super Bowl LIX. Travis Kelce will be there. Taylor Swift will no doubt be cheering him on. Kendrick Lamar is slated to perform the halftime show. There’s a lot to look forward to.

Here at șÚÁÏłÔčÏÍű, we are still thinking about an infographic published by the in the fall of 2024, which charts, of all things, the sheer volume of Uncrustables being consumed by the NFL. Yes, that’s right, if you haven’t heard, professional football players eat an ungodly amount of the pre-packaged, crust-cut-off, frozen peanut butter and jelly sandwiches sold by Smuckers and available in virtually every grocery store. According to the Athletic, NFL teams are tucking into somewhere upwards of 80,000 Uncrustables a year. And that’s just among the teams that chose to respond to their inquiry.

For their part, Smuckers has made the most of players’ love of their iconic sammie, with teams like the Ravens and players like the Kelce brothers.

Now, I don’t claim to be a nutritionist, but I do devote quite a bit of rent-free space in my brain—and quite a bit of my time—to reading about and researching the latest science on diet and nutrition. And I try to reasonably modify my own and my family’s diet in response to evidence-based things that I learn.

Alcohol is connected to higher risks of at least seven types of cancer,? Alrighty, Aperol Spritzes only on special occasions moving forward. ? Never going to buy a can without BPA-free on the label! And on down the line to microplastics in kitchenware. You get the gist.

So I think what surprises me most about Uncrustables as professional athlete fuel is my perception that they fall into that most contemporary of negative food categories: ultraprocessed. Although the research on the effects of ultraprocessed foods is still emerging, early , among other potential downstream health considerations. So I guess I would assume they are, broadly put, something to be avoided, especially in the context of peak athletic performance.

But let’s challenge my assumptions, starting with my broad brush view of ultraprocessing. As a recent article published on our sister site , “Sports nutrition” requires ultraprocessing in order “to create fast-digesting carbohydrates in the form of gels, chews, and beverages to keep your muscles adequately fueled.” The ultraprocessed factor of certain specially manufactured foodstuffs, arguesÌęTriathlete, ensures their capacity to meet nutritional needs in a unique way for endurance athletes. Again, as a total non-nutritionist, that feels like a fair point in their favor.

Peanut Butter and Jellies Are Pretty Amazing Workout Calories

And we do know that PB&Js are a great workout option.

șÚÁÏłÔčÏÍű writer Michael Easter put it simply in a 2018 story he wrote on peanut butter and jelly sandwiches as the unassuming—but ultimate—adventure fuel: “A basic PB&J—sliced white bread, Jif, and grape jelly—contains 350 calories and 16, 45, and 11 grams of fat, carbs, and protein, respectively. That’s roughly equivalent to a Peanut Butter ProBar—a favorite among endurance athletes—with its 380 calories, 20 grams of fat, 43 grams of carbohydrates, and 11 grams of protein.” And, according to his estimates, they “[clock] in at roughly 25 cents each.”

Kelly Jones, a registered dietitian, certified specialist in sports dietetics, and owner of and told me that if she were my nutritionist, she’d recommend making my own PB&J or peanut butter banana sandwich “out of whole grain bread and having half or a full one depending on the timing before activity” to net out greater nutrient density.

Uncrustables aren’t that far off a typical homemade PB&J in their caloric content, coming in at around 210 calories with 28 grams of carbs, 6 grams of protein, 9 grams of fat, and 8 to 10 grams of added sugar. On Amazon, , which makes the cost somewhere in the neighborhood of $2.75 per sandwich. And there’s definitely something to be said for the convenience of an Uncrustable when it comes to the per-unit price breakdown.

So I guess my first assumption—that peanut butter and jelly sandwiches aren’t the best thing to eat when working out—is pretty far off the mark. That said, making one at home is definitely a better bang for your buck and probably has denser nutritional value.

But who wants to make 80,000 homemade PB&Js in a year?

What Do Nutritionists Say About Uncrustables?

To get more perspective—and to test more of my assumptions—I reached out to , a nutritionist and certified personal trainer based in Denver, Colorado. Carmichael runs her own nutrition and fitness company, Team Humble Yourself, where the mission is to educate and empower women to take responsibility for their habits within nutrition and fitness.

Carmichael gave me some really helpful food for thought. She said she likes “to think of nutrition as paralleling finance. Like a budget, you can spend your money on whatever you want, but long term, all the short-term gratification spending (like consistently eating a highly processed diet) will not lead you to an early retirement or a life full of financial freedom because of small choices that were made daily.”

As such, an Uncrustable here or there is totally fine, but “whole foods are elite,” as she said. “It takes less energy to digest ultraprocessed foods. It takes more energy (calories) to digest and process whole foods, so relying on more of a processed item for recovery isn’t something that should be habitual.”

Jones added another layer of complexity to my thinking about ultraprocessed foods as a part of athletic training and recovery. She noted that “rather than label all ultraprocessed foods as unhealthy, we should recognize they fall on a spectrum from low to high nutrient density. Athletes who burn 1,000 calories or more per day participating in their sport may have more flexibility to choose foods such as Uncrustables in their diet versus the average American just working to fit in three workouts each week.”

To emphasize that spectrum of ultraprocessing in food, Jones noted that Oreos may be an obvious example to most people, but few recognize canned beans or Greek yogurt as ultraprocessed foods. In fact, I think most of us would agree that the latter examples fall into our idea of healthy eating.

Other Post-Workout Snack Options

Carmichael gave me a whole list of great ideas for post-workout fuel that she believes can help replenish your body’s glycogen storage, repair and rebuild muscle, and enhance metabolic function. She suggested, “post workout, if you’re not ready for a bigger meal, a large bowl of yogurt or cottage cheese paired with a fruit and honey, or even a slice of toast with some turkey” are all great options.

From Carmichael’s perspective, it’s all about moderation. “Make a whole food snack or meal after a workout more of a habit, and have something like an Uncrustable when you really want it,” she said. “Moderation is key for everything!”

Even Uncrustables.

Ryleigh Nucilli is °żłÜłÙČőŸ±»ć±đ’s columnist for the Pulse. Once her dad, Rob, wanted to try eating Uncrustables on a long road trip, but her sister insisted he eat the homemade variety—served on hot dog buns.

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Chick fil-A used to be my guilty pleasure, especially when traveling. When I’m rushing through airports that seductive red and white sign always calls for a detour and a Chicken Deluxe. Now, thanks to about the plastic chemicals found in food packaging, that sandwich is dead to me. A team of scientists and concerned citizens recently tested more than 300 unique foods for harmful plastic chemicals. My beloved treat sat near the top of the inauspicious leaderboard.

My regular readers know that I have long been concerned with the scary amount of plastic chemicals that we interact with as we Ìęgo about our daily lives.

There’s the black plastic in our utensils. And the PFAS (a.k.a forever chemicals) found in everything from our clothing and furniture to our beauty products and toilet paper, the foaming agents in our toothpaste and laundry soaps.

The list goes on and on. We are a society addicted to plastic chemicals and all the modern conveniences they afford. Meanwhile, cancer rates in people under 50 are . I am in doubting that this is merely coincidence.

But nothing freaks me out more than chemicals making their way into my family’s food. Who among us could ever enjoy a bite of a Chicken DeluxeÌęagain if we knew it were laced with poison?

I decided to look into what we know about chemicals in food packaging, what regulators are doing about it, and how we can protect ourselves.

Plastic Chemicals Pervade Our Everyday Food

I’ve been seeing pop up in my newsfeeds about plastic chemicals in food. I’ve had moments of paralysis in the grocery story trying to find a decent head of lettuce that wasn’t swathed in a plastic.

A group of Californians felt the same way. TheyÌęembarked on a six-month research project to test common food items—from local grocery stores and take-out joints—for the presence of chemicals that enhance the performance of plastics. Phthalates, for instance, are a class of chemicals used to make plastic more pliable. Think: milk jugs and yogurt cups. Bisphenols are plastic hardeners found in beverage bottles and linings of canned goods.

The independent group, working under the name PlasticList, purchased 775 food samples of 312 items. Everything from Almond Breeze milk (currently sitting in my fridge) and grass-fed steak from Whole Foods to Taco Bell chicken burritos and, yes, my beloved Chicken Deluxe from Chick fil-A. They then tested those items for the presence of 18 common plastic-related chemicals that fall under the umbrella of endocrine-disrupting chemicals (or EDCs). Ample proof exists that EDCs cause like cancer, diabetes, and reproductive and neurological disorders.

The is pretty shocking: the PlasticList team detected plastic chemicals in 86 percent of the food tested. “But this doesn’t mean we should all freak out,” says Yaroslav Shipilov, the PlasticList team leader. “Although it was surprising to discover the presence of plastic chemicals in such a huge percentage of the food we tested, in all but 24 specific cases, the items are still safe to eat according to the three major regulating bodies, the Food and Drug Administration (FDA), the Environmental Protection Agency (EPA), and the European Food Safety Authority (EFSA).”

Shipilov hopes that his findings will spawn more testing. He also hopes that the regulating bodies will update their outdated safety limits, which are decades old and often contradictory. “For example, in some cases we have chemicals that have been banned from children’s toys, but not food. This suggests that they are not safe for toddlers to touch, but are fine for them to ingest,” he says.

Are Plastic Chemicals Harmful to People?

Make no mistake about it. A rapidly growing body of evidence proves that plastic chemicals are really bad for human health, not to mention the harm they cause the environment.

To get an overview of the health impacts, I reached out to Philip J. Landrigan MD, a pediatrician and biology professor at Boston College. Landrigan serves as director of both the Program for Global Public Health and the Common Good and the Global Observatory on Planetary Health.

In October 2023, Landrigan published , a wide-ranging report covering the many health and environmental implications of plastic chemicals.

“Plastics have allowed significant benefits to humanity in the fields of medicine, electronics, aerospace, and more. But it’s also clear that they are also responsible for significant harms to human health, the economy, and the earth’s environment,” says Landrigan. “Thousands of chemicals—including carcinogens, endocrine disruptors, neurotoxicants, and persistent organic pollutants—leach out of plastics and harm human health at every stage of the lifecycle, from production to discard.”

For example, Landrigan says, consider the coal miners and oil field workers who suffer from cardiovascular disease and lung cancer. (These workers extract the raw materials that create plastic.)ÌęThe plastic production workers who have an increased risk of leukemia, lymphoma, and brain and breast cancer. The plastic recycling workers who contend with high rates of toxic metal poisoning and neuropathy. The workers in the plastics textile industry die of bladder cancer and lung disease. And the families who live near plastic production facilities who have increased risks of premature birth, low birth weight, asthma, childhood leukemia, lung cancer, and a host of other life-threatening ailments.

The report says that these harms exceed $500 billion per year in health-related costs in the U.S. alone.

“What’s most concerning to me as a pediatrician,” says Landrigan, “is the risk that chemicals in our food pose to pregnant women and young children. We all need to be more aware of plastics’ threats to human health. And we need to take intentional steps to reduce our exposure and our children’s exposure to plastic.”

Food Packaging Regulations Are Rolling Out–But Not Fast Enough

The federal government has been slow to respond in a meaningful way to the growing body of evidence that plastics in our food system are poisoning us.

Just last week, a group of environmentalists filed a new lawsuit against the Food and Drug Administration (FDA) over the use of phthalates in plastic food packaging. For close to a decade, the FDA has ignored calls to take stronger action against phthalates. We lag far behind the European Union in this regard.

Reporting from suggests that this refusal is due to pressure from the chemicals industry, which would surely suffer in the face of a phthalates ban.

Still, some states have begun to take independent action to protect our food from plastics chemicals.

“States have taken the lead on phasing out dangerous chemicals from food packaging and containers,” says Gretchen Salter, policy director for Safer States, a national alliance that works to protect people and the environment from toxic chemicals. “Our shows that 16 states have adopted 29 policies to remove chemicals like PFAS, phthalates, and bisphenols (chemicals like BPA and BPF)Ìęfrom food packaging. Additionally, Washington state has recently Ìęto ban allÌębisphenols in drink can liners and require disclosure of the use of allÌębisphenols in food can liners.”

5 Ways To Protect Yourself From Plastic Chemicals in Food

Try as we might, avoiding plastic food packaging altogether is downright impossible. But there are some things we can do to not only limit our exposure to their inherent chemicals (like phthalates, bisphenols, and PFAS), but to be part of long-term solutions that will protect our kids, grandkids, and all the generations to come.

1. 1. Avoid fast food and take-out. When you can’t, get that hot food out of its packaging as soon as possible to avoid chemical leaching. Even pizza boxes contain PFAS.
   2. Bring your own take-out containers. When dining out, bring a glass or metal container from home for leftovers. And avoid putting plastic take-out containers into the microwave. Although the specific research around this practice is , most experts believe this can cause additional contamination and leaching.
   3. Opt for fresh, whole foods. Skip the packaging whenever you can. For example, buy loose veggies rather than those ensconced in plastic. For meat and fish, buy direct from the counter. Ask for it wrapped in paper, rather than picking up a package from the chiller, where it’s been resting in a plastic package for who-knows-how-long. (Note: even that butcher’s paper likely has chemicals on it, so unwrap it as soon as you get home.)
   4. Ditch all plastic from your kitchen. Yep, you heard me—all of it. Storage containers, colanders, utensils, cereal bowls. Start to replace all of those items with glass, wood, metal, and ceramic. I’ve scored some really high quality replacements at the second-hand stores I love to frequent. And don’t forget the Saran Wrap and Zip-Lock bags. Transition away from those, too, and go with beeswax bowl toppers and silicone baggies.
   5. Speak up! It takes one minute to to create a Global Plastics Treaty. Do it! Another powerful action you can take is to write a letter to your state congress representatives. Urge them to support the Global Plastics Treaty as well as state laws to ban toxic plastic chemicals. Here are to get you started.

Kristin Hostetter is °żłÜłÙČőŸ±»ć±đ’s sustainability columnist. Sadly, she has eaten her last Chick fil-A Chicken Deluxe. But she’s currently working on recreating a healthier version in her home kitchen.Ìę Follow her journey to live more sustainably by for her twice-monthly newsletter.Ìę

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Everyone knows a skier who prides themselves on , only to fuel up on pocket jerky and maybe a PBR on the lift. But during a long day on the slopes, we’re never opposed to warming up our toes and refueling in the lodge.

Of course, many lodge cafeterias offer an exceptionally average $30 plate of a burger and fries, but in recent years, some have started providing unique dining experiences (at often more affordable prices!). And while no one can argue that chicken tendies don’t taste amazing after crushing laps sometimes we’re craving something a little bit more. That said, we’ve hunted down the best and most Check out our picks, below.

Green Chili Dogs from Ptarmigan Roost Café (Loveland Ski Area, CO)

While shredding at , Ptarmigan Roost CafĂ© is undoubtedly a worthwhile pitstop. Cozy up with a can of Rolling Rock and a green chili dog either next to the wood-burning stove, or on the observation deck, which provides 360 views of the area at 12,000 feet of elevation. After a day of exploring the bowls or hitting the glades, the combination of the spicy green chili — with a glizzy — is truly unmatched.

Bacon Bloody Mary and BBQ from Black Mountain Lodge (A-Basin, CO)

Although you may have to roll back down to the base lodge afterward, taking a mid-mountain break at is practically a requirement during a trip to Arapahoe Basin. Even though the pulled pork sandwich happens to be a household favorite, you really can’t go wrong with ribs or brisket, either. Make sure to wash it all down with one of the lodge’s iconic Bacon Bloody Marys, and you’ll likely be full until just before your morning laps tomorrow.

Veggie Ramen at Miso Hungry (Jay Peak, VT)

There is truly nothing more satisfying than cozying up with a steaming hot bowl of ramen after a few hours on the slopes (hey, even during a long day on the slopes!). But it’s safe to say Miso Hungry’s Veggie Ramen does not disappoint. You can choose between spicy and regular miso (we’re always opting for spicy
it’s a quick way to warm up!) and top it with a little fried tofu for some extra protein. You can even make it vegan by asking to swap out the marinated egg for extra veggies.

Curry Fries from Roundhouse (Solitude Mountain Resort, UT)

 

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Indian-Himalayan fusion might not come to mind when visiting the state of Utah, but mid-mountain restaurant, Roundhouse, has a mouthwatering menu (think: dals, butter chicken, and lamb curry) that’s worth flying in for. But if you’re looking for a big plate to share, curry fries may be the way to go, and definitely ask for extra napkins. We can’t think of a better way to warm up amongst friends.

Jerk Chicken from Jerk Jamaican Mountain Grill (Killington Ski Resort, VT)Ìę

During those extra cold days on the slopes, a tropical lunchtime vibe may be the way to go to get the feeling back in your fingers. One repeat recommendation for the best mountain food on the Reddit page was the famous Jerk Shack at , and needless to say, we’re dying to try it. “There’s a jerk chicken shack slopeside at Killington that is so good it’s hard to believe,” one userÌęwrites in a rave review. “Easily the best food I’ve had at any resort, ever.”

Barbacoa, Chicken Tinga, or Tofu Chorizo Tacos from Phlox Point (Timberline, OR)

Even though Portland tends to be Oregon’s primary food hub, one ski area along has a ski-in, ski-out taqueria that could just as well be in the city. Phlox Point at offers affordable and flavorful tacos, which beat any .

“Our personal faves include the barbacoa, a tantalizing shredded beef version braised in stout with ancho and chipotle chilis, oregano, and cumin,” , behind Mount Hood’s Alpine Chalet. “The chicken tinga is also a standout, marinated in IPA, green chili, cumin, and garlic. And for the veggie peeps, they have a rotating option (currently tofu chorizo).”

The Reuben from John Paul Lodge (Snowbasin Resort, UT)

John Paul Lodge serves up what they claim to be “the best Reuben in Utah” —Ìęand the Internet seems to wholeheartedly agree. In response to , one comment read: “Couple more weeks till I fly in for my Reuben,” while another added: “Best Reuben of all time.”ÌęAnd if you’re still not convinced, then , who voted Snowbasin one of the top ten resorts in the West for dining in our annual SKI Reader’s Survey.

Fondue from The Roundhouse (Bald Mountain Ski Area, ID)Ìę

Fondue is a relatively common slopeside staple, but evidently, has nailed the art of melty cheese and crudités. Not to mention, a pretty stellar view from the top of the resort, only accessible by gondola. Not to mention, The Roundhouse claims to be the original on-mountain dining spot in the U.S.

The Roundhouse is popular amongst skiers and nonskiers alike, so if you’re planning on visiting make sure to make reservations ahead of time.

Deer Valley Turkey Chili (Deer Valley, UT).

You know a food is iconic when a quick Google search ranks copycat recipes to make at home higher than the resort’s website. Deer Valley’s Turkey Chili is certainly that type of dish and a staple at the Utah resort. You can snag this famous bowl of protein-packed goodness at several of Deer Valley’s onsite lodges, and even . Don’t forget to embrace toppings the Deer Valley way by adding cheese, sour cream, red or green onions, or even some sliced jalapeños.

Not into Chili? No worries, Deer Valley has plenty of other favorites like rich and silky smooth hot chocolate, and a whole variety of desserts guaranteed to please your sweet tooth and give you the energy to carry out your day.

Latin American food from Nob Hill Cafe (Sugar Bowl Resort, CA)Ìę

Situated in Village Lodge is the Nob Hill Cafe, a casual spot to grab some Michelin-starred chef-created meals. This season, the cafe is bringing the heat with a flavorful Latin American-inspired fare. Between laps, you can choose from a tasty menu that includes birria braised beef, pollo asado chicken, vegetarian Pozole Verde, and veggie pupusas — yum.

Waffles from Corbet’s Cabin (Jackson Hole, WY)

If you’ve been skiing for more than a few years, you’re likely accustomed to a grab-and-go waffle before hitting the chairlift. But, Corbet’s Cabin at Jackson Hole is no run-of-the-mill Waffle Cabin. Skiers can grab a freshly made waffle reminiscent of weekend mornings and choose toppings accordingly, like bacon, peanut butter, or whipped cream. All that extra sugar pairs perfectly with a death-defying run off the cabin’s namesake, Jackson Hole’s famous Corbet’s Couloir.

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In of The Road Less Eaten, chef and host Biju Thomas visits Utah’s Heber Valley, an unassuming corner of the western U.S. that has seen an explosion in its food scene over the course of the last ten years. While in the Heber Valley, Thomas spends the majority of his time in Midway, Utah, a town on the Eastern flank of the Wasatch Mountains, about an hour away from Salt Lake City and a stone’s throw from Park City.

Thomas tells viewers that local farming and great ingredients have made the Heber Valley a quiet food mecca with a vibrant culinary scene that can hold its own against other, more well-known food destinations. With farms and ranches dotting the landscape, and local bakeries and restaurants that understand the value of locally sourced ingredients, the Heber Valley is filled with dining destinations for visitors to explore after a day hitting the slopes or adventuring in the outdoors.

 

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Hawk and Sparrow Bakery

Thomas starts his journey through the Heber Valley food scene at , which is an organic, artisan bakery located in baker Andrew Berthrong’s home garage in Midway, Utah, that Thomas says produces some of the best bread in Utah. Hawk and Sparrow is known for its sourdough, which is a staple in Heber Valley restaurants that aim to showcase local ingredients and artisan products. Thomas describes Berthrong, a former academic, as “one of the best bakers in the country.”

Viewers watch as Thomas and Berthrong sample the popular sourdough, which takes a multi-day process to create. As they slather the bread with butter, Thomas remarks on the beauty and simplicity of freshly baked bread that’s made with just a few ingredients because it really has nothing to get in the way of its flavor.

 

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Lola’s Street Kitchen

From Hawk and Sparrow, Thomas ventures onto , a former food truck that now has a brick-and-mortar location in Midway, Utah. Owned and operated by David and Mandy Medina, Lola’s makes all of their own breads, buns, and pitas in addition to using some of the sourdough from Hawk and Sparrow. The Medinas envisioned the restaurant as showcasing the best of American street food, all made from scratch.

One of the highlights of Thomas’ visit to Lola’s includes a rundown of their three most popular items: the fried chicken sandwich on freshly baked potato roll, lamb gyro on handmade pita, and a portobello truffle melt on Hawk and Sparrow’s sourdough. Thomas describes Lola’s as approachable and affordable with beautiful dishes but without any fussiness or stuffiness.

Heber Valley Artisan Cheese

After his ride on the local “Heber Creeper” train, Thomas takes viewers to the fourth-generation family-owned dairy farm and shop. Thomas describes the dairy—and its owner and operator Russ Kohler—as embodying the ethics of the region. At Heber Valley Artisan Cheese, they do it all; they grow the hay that feeds the cows, and they raise the herd that produces the milk that turns into some of the world’s finest cheese.

And Thomas isn’t exaggerating. Heber Valley Artisan Cheese won a gold medal at the World Cheese Awards for its Lemon Sage Cheddar, and its Wasatch Back Jack is a National Champion. A highlight for Thomas comes when he gets to taste both prize winners. As he samples the cheddar, Thomas remarks that the cheese is actually “more buttery than cheesy,” which Kohler explains is a result of the cows’ diet. Because corn doesn’t grow at elevation, the Heber Valley Artisan Cheese herd has an alfalfa-based diet. Alfalfa diets create a richer, creamier texture in the cheese.

 

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Midway Mercantile

Chef John Platt then gives Thomas a tour and tasting at his upscale Midway, Utah, eatery . A former teacher and principal, Platt moved to Midway nearly two decades ago, drawn by the Heber Valley’s beauty.

While at Midway Mercantile, Thomas gets to sample their panko-crusted Alaskan Halibut, which is Midway Mercantile’s most popular dish. The fish is panko crusted in yellow curry, served with coconut rice and spinach, and topped with apple chutney. Thomas loves the dish—particularly the apple chutney. Thomas also gets to taste Sandra’s Classic Salad, a salad named after Platt’s wife and composed of greens, herbs, lemon vinaigrette, truffle oil, and grilled Juustoleipa cheese. Juustoleipa is a Finnish bread cheese that really has its flavors come out when grilled.

 

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Ritual Chocolate

Thomas finishes his exploration of the Heber Valley at , where Anna Seear has perfected small-batch, bean-to-bar chocolate from ethically sourced heirloom cacao. Thomas notes that he and Seear actually both started their careers in the Boulder, Colorado, food scene.

After walking through the artisanal process Seear uses to create Ritual’s finely crafted chocolate, Thomas enjoys tasting Ritual’s unique, single-origin drinking chocolates, which are made from half hot water and half chocolate. After drinking both the Madagascar and the Ecuador, Thomas notes the cinnamon-y flavor and richness of the Ecuador, while the Madagascar has a brighter flavor.

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It’s not that I don’t like food. I do. I carry frozen cheesecakes on winter expeditions. They’re caloric and they don’t freeze hard, so you can bite off chunks without chipping your teeth. I once ate the same dead catfish boiled over a fire for three days. Was it good? Absolutely not. I like cardamom, snap peas, and Asian pears. I eat frozen bean burritos. I hate raw tomatoes, a trait I attribute to growing up near a ketchup factory in California. Tomatoes festered on every street corner and stuck to the soles of my flip-flops. They rolled off trucks en route to the factory, then rotted in the sun.

My husband, on the other hand, was raised by an epicurean grandfather, driving hours one-way for frog legs, bouillabasse, a pastry shaped like a bird’s nest. We have twin babies now. He wants them to appreciate good food, so he’s learning to cook. In pursuit of this goal, he discovered the , a remote bed and breakfast in Michigan’s Upper Peninsula where superstar chef Lane Regan (formerly Iliana) cooks foraged ingredients for a handful of guests in exclusive weekends that sell out years in advance. This year, my husband’s been helping out at the Inn, building a woodshed and tending colonies of bees. He’s developed a new language, dropping words like “garum” and fermenting wild plums on the top shelf of our closet. In exchange for his work, Lane offered us a slot on a last-minute November weekend—and my husband, excited to share a place he loves, gave the slot to me.

The Inn lies about a mile from two-lane Highway 13 as the crow flies, and 25 miles by unmarked dirt road. Guests caravan. It’s a log cabin with a central parlor that’s half kitchen, adorned with Pendleton blankets, paintings of foxes, and Chef’s three Michelin stars. Tonight’s dinner is not the star of the weekend—that would be Saturday’s 15-course tasting menu—but as guests gather around the three small tables, it’s clearly no less anticipated. I scoot in at the corner table with two couples, dodging a silky lump that reveals itself to be a Shih Tzu named Clemmie. George, a nine-year-old Newfoundland, sprawls like a bear rug by the hearth.

Host Rebecca, a breezy redhead with pigtails and an expression of warm concern, brings dishes of savoy cabbage with pine flower miso and milkweed flower vinegar that have my tablemates gasping. It’s meaty, complex, and—to my inexperienced palate—ineffable. I feel like a phony for eating it without the knowledge to name the tastes. Like wild mushrooms, I think, tentative even in my mind—and when a neighbor mentions the same, I feel a sprig of confidence. By the bread course, a thick warm sourdough with tangy goat milk butter and honey, I find myself relaxing. The trout in herb gribiche is fleshy and tastes like lake in the best way, and dessert—a profiterole with spruce ice cream and chaga cookie top that cracks into patches like the spots on an amanita—offers an almost musical experience of bliss.

By the time guests sigh and lean back, the woods outside the windows are black. The nearest neighbors are more than a howl’s reach away. Rebecca did a 12-day silent retreat “in order to be able to work here—because one struggles with one’s mind,” she remarks of the Inn’s isolation, gliding to the table with postprandial tea. A guest inquires if she has any decaf coffee. “No the fuck we do not,” she says.

I sleep outside by choice, full-bellied in two sleeping bags, and wake to daylight in a shell of ice.

By first breakfast—banana-walnut bread with salt and butter—the guests are familiar with each other. They’re midwestern, foodies, adventurous—two retired couples, a pair of restaurant owners, and a data scientist and millennial geriatrician from Madison, Wisconsin. Chef Lane bustles in the kitchen, answering questions and offering guidance on the wood-fired sauna. They’re slim and soft-spoken, with a teal moth tattooed on their neck, wings filling the open collar of their tucked-in wool flannel. In a minute they stir, scoop, plate, taste, give hiking suggestions, and brush Shih Tzu Clemmie’s eyebrows up with their hand, securing them with plastic barrettes. Second breakfast is tacos on green tortillas, tinged with weeds picked that week.

The day is food and leisure; some folks wander to the Sturgeon River, descending a trailless slope, while others knit, hike, or read. I sit briefly in the loft, overhearing snippets of conversation. “One time I got stung by a hornet on my butt cheek and [redacted] sucked all the venom out of me,” someone remarks. “That was the most romantic thing he’s ever done.” Later, thoughtful: “My tapeworm’s the only one who understands me.”

When guests stay too long in the sauna, Lane worries. “Do you think they passed out?” they murmur. “Maybe they’re cooking.”

Lane says that guests at Milkweed fall on a spectrum: on one extreme, foodies who rarely step outdoors, and at the other, outdoorsfolk who—like myself—“have never even had a tasting menu.” It’s Milkweed that brings them together.

As an adventurer, I’m often in the position of enticing people outside, and it can be a hard sell. Not because the highs aren’t great, but because folks fear the lows: bugs, cold, bears, isolation, toilet paper made of leaves. And yet here’s Milkweed, pulling magic: calling new people into the Northwoods, not in spite of discomfort, but for pursuit of pleasure alone.

Lunch starts with a salad of fennel and carrot two ways (shaved raw, and blanched and marinated in lemon), moose garum and egg white aminos with marinated white beans and garnished with chamomile. The flavor is multisensory, euphoric; I feel it in my arms. Something’s sweet on my tongue, and tart on the sides of my mouth, and there’s a tinge of smoke, too, which surprises me.

“We fed the moose firewood,” says cooking resident Jade. She’s joking, but she might as well not be, because I swear it’s all there: the soil, the rain, the antlers, the trees. And when it hits me, I almost laugh from the revelation: foraged food isn’t just about bringing people into wildness. It’s about bringing wildness into our very mouths.

We can—we do—have nature inside us, even in the most conservative sense of the word: wilderness as nonhuman, nature as beyond control. What’s a tapeworm if not a reminder that our bodies are ecosystems, too? But this place, this cooking, this food—it turns fear into pleasure. Savoring a wild lion’s mane mushroom is no less an engagement with wildness than spotting one in the woods, and it is—in a tactile way—more accessible to most.

I’m not proud to realize that my lack of engagement with good food was, in minuscule part, because I thought myself above it. Because, while I savor comfort, I’ve always prided myself on enduring its lack, and I have in me some Puritan sense that suffering for a goal gives you greater pride. I have struggled in my life to let myself be purely content, and maybe food represents that: it turns a need into a gift. I’ve spent decades chasing wilderness, when it could always be right here: on my plate, in my mouth, in the animal body that I am.

The post How Milkweed Inn Challenged My Idea of Food appeared first on șÚÁÏłÔčÏÍű Online.

When I was 13, like many young women, I developed an eating disorder and body dysmorphia. At 16, I started mountaineering, which was a profound catalyst for change—I learned that food was fuel and that my body could do so much more than simply look good. I got really excited about building strength and fitness. By my mid-twenties, I would say I had recovered. I dealt with fluctuations in my weight and appearance without spiraling, lived a balanced, active lifestyle, and ate what I wanted without guilt or shame.Ìę

I’m 30 now, and I recently visited an old, very close friend from childhood who shared my adolescent despair and unhealthy eating patterns. I stayed at her house, and noticed she hardly had any food—just some tofu, greens, and fixings for light smoothies. No bread, no cheese or milk, no snacks. I listened to her talk about her eating habits—how she’d skip dinner if she knew she was going to drink a lot that evening, or that she doesn’t keep jam in the house because she’ll eat it all. (Isn’t that the point?) She told me that she knows she has to sacrifice certain foods to maintain a body that she is happy with, and that she’s at peace with that. At the time, I thought Wow. She’s still in it—this disordered relationship with food and her body. Thank god I grew out of it.Ìę

Then, I looked at pictures of us on the beach from that weekend, and noticed my frame dwarfing hers. I came home from the trip triggered, questioning whether I needed to go on a diet, reevaluate my habits, or even get my hands on some Ozempic. Things I never think about. I want to be super clear: I love this woman and have an incredible time with her. She never commented on my body or what I ate. And she never would. But in her judgment of herself, I started to hear criticism of my own habits and appearance, too. After a few weeks, the ship righted itself, and I felt, once again, at peace with myself and what I ate.

We’re now planning a river trip together, where we’ll be sharing all of our snacks and meals. How can I avoid falling into the same old, defeating thoughts when I’m with her? Should I talk to her? I don’t even really know what I’d say, and definitely don’t want to police her behavior. If I don’t talk to her, what can I do to protect my own mental health and body image during our time together?Ìę

Versions of this letter could have been written by so many women I know—including myself. This may be a tricky situation, but it’s also a testament to your hard work toward body acceptance, and how incredibly far you’ve come.

Recently I had an interaction with a close friend—a woman in her thirties—that reminds me a bit of your situation. We were at the beach, and she had recently ordered a new swimsuit. When she pulled it on, it was uncomfortably tight. “I ordered the same size I wore in high school,” she said, tugging the fabric down over her hips, which are objectively skinny and much smaller than mine. “I guess I should lose a few pounds.”

I didn’t know what to say, so I just laughed. We went swimming. But I kept wondering what I should have said. I could have focused on praise, encouragement—“you look great!”—but wouldn’t that reinforce the idea that a slightly bigger body is bad? I could have said something neutral: “Bodies change.” I could have taken a cue from my experience training dogs (to discourage a behavior, replace it with an incompatible one) and ignored the statement completely before changing the subject: “Look over there. A boat!”

Here’s the kicker: my daughter was with us, and I want her to have a healthy relationship with her body. I hope she’ll never experience the turmoil that so many women still carry. Luckily she’s a baby, so I doubt she processed our conversation. She was too busy eating sand. But what if she’d been older? Three, eight, sixteen? What would I say then—to my friend, and to her? And if I could figure out the right message to give my daughter, wouldn’t that be the right message for myself, too?

For the sake of this column, I took what felt like a risk, and called my swimsuit-wearing friend to ask for her perspective on the interaction. She didn’t remember it at all. But she remembered something else.

“I was in the kitchen with you and your husband,” she said, “and we’d just eaten sourdough bread that he baked. I was thinking about how carbs make you gain weight, and I said something like, ‘What’s this going to do to my gym goals?’ Without hesitating, he responded, ‘What goals? Getting stronger? More endurance?’ It was so pure. It helped me catch myself. I’ve always thought I don’t have a lot of diet culture internalized, but there I was, trafficking in this culture of diet glorification.”

Even among my most feminist friends, admitting to troubled body image can feel like the last taboo. Women talk about body dysmorphia or disordered eating in the past tense, but stay tight-lipped on current struggles, even when they’re outwardly obvious to folks who’ve been through it themselves. Part of this dynamic, I think, is generational. Millennials came of age during the extreme diet culture of the ninetiesÌęand 2000s, then matured—and at least tried to deal with our shit—as the body positivity movement rose in public consciousness. We were taught that our bodies were bad—and then that feeling bad about them is bad, too. We’re ashamed of the fact that we’re still ashamed.

So I understand your hesitation to talk to your friend directly, even if you can comfortably talk about almost anything else. Commenting on body image issues can feel almost like a moral indictment—and anyway, what’s she going to do? Get over them in time for your trip?

You’re better off risking honesty about yourself, and confiding in your friend about your challenges, rather than confronting her about her own. You could frame the conversation in terms of asking for her support. “Hey, can you help me with something? I’ve had some body image stuff come up lately, and I’m trying to really focus on accepting myself and having a healthy relationship with food. I think my goal on the river trip is to just be in the moment, and not think about weight at all. If you notice me talking about weight, or being self-critical, could you call me out on it?”

This is basically the truth, and it’s a gentle way to tell your friend that diet comments can be triggering to you. It might also present an opportunity for her to bring up her own struggles—or at the very least, to know that if she does want to talk about them someday, you’re someone who would listen.

In practical terms, make sure that when you pack for the trip, you’re bringing a swimsuit and clothes that fit perfectly and make you feel confident. (If you don’t have any, buy some! Clothes that help you feel good about your body are genuinely important.) I also think it’s a good idea to reach out to another friend—someone who’s not coming along—and ask her to be your support system. Let her know what’s going on, so she can check in with you after you get back. That way, if you end up feeling worse about yourself, she can help to remind you that this, too, shall pass.

And if those bad feelings come back, they will pass, even if it takes a while to get through them. You’ve already worked so hard to love your body and develop a healthy attitude toward food. That work is never wasted, even when you face setbacks. In fact, when you have negative thoughts about yourself and correct them, you’re not failing; you’re making your coping skills even stronger. Your body is strong as heck, and your mind is, too.

If you or a loved one is struggling with an eating disorder, call the National Alliance for Eating Disorders Helpline at +1 (866) 662-1235 for support, resources, and treatment options. Visit for more information.

Blair Braverman writes șÚÁÏłÔčÏÍű’s Tough Love column. She has previously written about how to develop more body confidence.

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I like a good burger as much as the next girl. This past weekend at a family cookout, I indulged in a damn good one. But each delicious beefy bite brought with it a bitter aftertaste. You see, I’m an environmentalist hell-bent on making daily choices that support a healthy planet. And beef, I’m sure you’ve heard, has a hefty environmental impact. According to Project Drawdown, switching to a plant-based diet and reducing food waste are by far the we can take.

The meat and dairy industries account for about 14.5 percent of global greenhouse gas (GHG) emissions and are also the leading causes of deforestation. And when you compare the GHG emissions from different food groups, beef takes the prize by a landslide.

So what’s a beef-loving environmentalist to do? Can I stay true to my climate values without swearing off meat? Can I enjoy the occasional steak without feeling like a total hypocrite? Can I source beef that supports a healthy planet rather than depletes it?

Hoping that the answer to these questions was a resounding yes, I turned to three passionate environmentalists–a climate scientist, a hunter, and a rancher. None of them think weÌęneed to quit beef altogether—instead, we need to rethink our relationship to beef and where it comes from.

I came away from my conversations with three guiding principles about my future beef Ìęconsumption: eat less, don’t waste any of it, and buy the best I can find and afford.

Eat Less Beef

The topic of meat and its impact on the environment gets a lot of heat and not a lot of light, says Dr. Jonathan Foley, executive director of , a nonprofit whose mission is to stop climate change as quickly, safely, and equitably as possible using science-based solutions and strategies.

“The science is really clear,” says Foley. “Red meat is a huge environmental force. 75Ìępercent of all agricultural land in the world is used to raise animals.”

Roughly 99 percent of American beef is “finished” in feedlots, says Foley. That means that while the calves may live on an open range for the first year of their lives, they’re then shipped to giant commercial operations where they’re prevented from moving around and fed a steady diet of grain to fatten them up and create the desired marbling.

“We’re devoting a huge amount of land, water, and chemicals to grow massive grain monocrops for animal feed, which is detrimental to biodiversity and a healthy planet,” says Foley.

This is compounded by the fact that Americans eat far too much beef: about 83 pounds per person per year, according to data from theÌę, second only to Portugal.

Practices like regenerative ranching—which seeks to improve soil health and increase biodiversity—and avoiding consumptive feedlot beefÌęmay be part of the solution, but only if we dramatically cut the amount we consume in the first place, contends Foley.

“Cutting back is the only way pencils out. We simply don’t have enough grassland to support the volume of beef we’re consuming,” he says. “Regenerative ranching only makes sense if we drastically cut consumption.”

Respect Meat—and Waste None

Nicole Qualtieri is a longtime hunting , the editor-in-chief of an outdoors publication called , and a passionate conservationist who traded high heels for hiking boots when she moved to Montana from Denver and took up hunting a decade ago. She often writes about her connection to the land and how .

Qualtieri glasses the countryside for mule deer in eastern Montana. (Photo: Lindsey Mulcare)

“Hunters and vegans have more in common than less,” says Qualtieri. “We are both actively involved in our foodways. But most vegans still depend on industrial food entirely for what they eat, plants included. I think it’s great that they shun industrial meat and animal products that lack integrity; however, there are other routes to breaking systemic dependence.”

For Qualtieri, part of breaking that dependence is eating as much of the animal as possible, whether it’s store-bought beef or an elk she’s killed.ÌęWanton waste laws (which vary by state) prohibit hunters from leaving meat behind. “Here in Montana, wanton waste laws mean that for cervids (deer, elk, and moose), hunters have to take the four quarters, two backstraps, and tenderloins. I choose to take much more. For me, hunting necessitates a deep participation in the landscape—learning about game trails, animal behavior, seasonality, and more. It’s beyond empowering to walk into the wilderness alone, kill an animal if the right moment occurs, process it, butcher it, and cook it with care and respect,” she says. In her efforts to minimize food waste, she’s become a more adventurous omnivore. “I eat heart, tongue, organs, and strange cuts on a regular basis from the animals I kill,” she says.

Every fall, Qualtieri’s goal is to fill her freezer with wild game that will last her through to next season. “It lowers my grocery bill, it’s than store-bought, feedlot-raised beef, and I eat less of it because it’s precious. I have pulled myself out of industrial meat for the most part, and that feels like a huge win.”

When Qualtieri does buy beef, she typically buys it in bulk, and gets best quality she can find, which for her means locally sourced in Montana and raised far away from the feedlots. “My family occasionally pitches in on a beef quarter from a local rancher, which goes a long way,” she says.

How to Source the Best Beef

When shopping for meat, the labels can be confusing and confounding, and the fact of the matter is that the vast majority of stuff we find in the grocery store is of the industrial, grain-fed variety.

There are far better options. Cole Mannix is the president and founder of the , a company whose motto is “meat with integrity.” Mannix, a fifth-generation regenerative Montana rancher, believes that animal-based agriculture has the power to both produce nourishing food, maintain and improve long-term ecological health, and leave space for wildlife.

Mannix, like Foley and Qualtieri, is both an environmentalist and a carnivore. He wants people to not only think about where their food comes from, he wants people to actually see where it comes from. “I want people to develop and deepen a friendship with the people andÌę landscape behind their food.”

That’s why he created theÌęOld Salt Festival, a of Montana land stewardship, now in its second year. The festival, which melds wood fire cooking, Americana music, local makers, and educational meadow walks on the Mannix Family Ranch, had 1,600 attendees in 2023.

“The deadest landscapes I’ve ever seen are monoculture commercial grain farms,” says Mannix. “What I’m trying to show people is another way: cattle ranches that are wild, wide-open landscapes with grizzlies, birds, and abundant wildlife. Places with healthy riparian areas and biodiversity. Biodiversity is a sign that a place is alive.” Mannix does this by rather than trying to fight it with chemicals and “mimicking the symbiotic role that native ruminants (grazing mammals) had with grasslands.”

But what about someone like me–an east-coaster who’s about 2,500 miles from Big Sky country? I asked Mannix for tips on how to shop ethically for meat in my area. I’ve been perplexed in the store by the myriad labels on beef: grass-fed, grass-finished, regenerative, organic, free-range, and more.

“I can’t point people to one single label on a beef product that would tell them it’s better,” he says. “Labels do not reflect the landscapes. My advice is to research the landscape behind your food and make your own decision. Look for beauty because beauty is a sign of life. Only healthy soil and intact ecological function can support life. Soils that are teeming with life mitigate climate change.”

Mannix’s skepticism about misleading labels and his advice to really think about the suppliers behind everything we buy makes perfect sense to me. But I wanted to learn more about how anyone, regardless of their location, resources, or food budget, can find ethical beef. Like the frazzled working parent with a bunch of mouths to feed, rushing to the local market between her day job, dentist appointments, baseball games, and carpools.

After loads of research, I’ve come to believe that there are, sadly, no short cuts for busy moms like me. If you see labels like like “grass-finished,” and “regenerative” in the store, they can be a starting point. On the spot, you can whip out your phone and navigate to the brand’s website. Read the About Us section to learn about its land stewardship values and maybe see photos of the farm. When ranchers cherish the landscape, you’ll know it because they talk about it and show it on their websites.

If it feels right, put that burger meat in your cart and make that chili tonight. And keep learning. At home, when you have a minute to breathe, continue researching the brands you have local access to. While you’re at it, look up some delicious vegetarian chili recipes to work into your rotation.

The people I interviewed for this piece showed me that you can be an environmentalist and still eat beef, if you do it thoughtfully and intentionally. For me, that means practicing my new non-hypocritical meat-loving environmentalist mantra: Eat less, waste none, and do the best I can to buy from regenerative farms I trust. I’ve already placed an order for a with Old Salt and it should last me for about six months.

Doing right by the planet can make you happier, healthier, and—yes—wealthier. °żłÜłÙČőŸ±»ć±đ’s head of sustainability, Kristin Hostetter, explores small lifestyle tweaks that can make a big impact. for her twice monthly newsletter or write to her at climateneutral-ish@outsideinc.com.

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Ultrarunner extraordinaire Courtney Dauwalter has picked up in 2024 right where she left off last year. After famously winning three of ultrarunning’s most epic racesÌę during the span of about nine weeks last summer—Western States 100, Hardrock 100, and Ultra-Trail du Mont-Blanc—the 39-year-old athlete from Leadville, Colorado, in a decisive wire-to-wire win in late February and won the Mount Fuji 100-miler for the second time on April 27, placing third overall. She’s now gearing up to go for a third straight win at the Hardrock 100 on July 12-13 in Silverton, Colorado. After Hardrock, she’ll be crewing and pacing her husband, Kevin Schmidt, at the Leadville 100 on August 17-18, and then tackling a yet-unannounced trail running project in September.

We caught up with Dauwalter to talk about her fueling and training in a virtual press conference, where she announced the May 20 release of her signature flavor of Tailwind Nutrition Endurance Fuel——as a permanent part of the brand’s lineup. Since she’s emerged as one of the world’s top trail ultrarunners, she’s been known for having a sound approach to nutrition and fueling, never shying away from eating whatever she wants, admitting her soft spot for candy and pastries, or having a beer every now and then if she feels like it.

RUN: How did you develop such a sensible approach to nutrition and fueling, and what, if anything, have you changed?

DAUWALTER: I am still eating all of my favorite things whenever they sound good in quantities that sound good, and I am not intending to change that part of my life, because it just gives me a lot of joy to live that way. I guess it’s got to be partly my upbringing, and also with Kevin and I, our idea of how we want to live our lives is to enjoy it to its fullest while it’s here. We just want to enjoy food, enjoy meals out, enjoy the cravings that we have, and not worry about it. But I would say in the past couple of years I do more consistently do a recovery drink after a long run or after putting in big efforts, and that’s something that I was a little more lax with originally, so I feel like that’s a step in the right direction.

What was your fueling strategy when you first got into ultrarunning in 2011?

When I first got into ultrarunning, I had no nutrition plan. I didn’t know what I was doing. My first race was a 50K, and I remember not knowing that these aid stations would be buffets. My mind was blown when I got to them—all the options were overwhelming. I just started filling my pockets with jelly beans. In those first years, I did a lot of mimicking of what the people around me were doing. So if I came to an aid station and someone was grabbing pickles and drinking Mountain Dew, then that’s what I would do. If they were grabbing pretzels and cheese cubes, that’s what I would go for. It was just kind of roulette for me on what I would end up eating—if it would work, or if it wouldn’t work.

You have told stories about a few famous bonks early in your career. When did you start to dial-in your fueling strategy?

Initially, I never had a fueling plan at all. But then in 2017, I went to the in Steamboat Springs, Colorado, and Tailwind was available on course at all of the aid stations. I had a buddy who had started using it that year, and I remember just loving it and suddenly not having all the stomach issues and energy dips that I often had. I was like, ‘Oh, maybe this is what it’s like to have something reliable.’

What is your current approach to race-day nutrition?

At this point we’ve gotten pretty dialed on the race nutrition plan for those 10-to 24-hour efforts or the events of 100 miles or below. I’m not a person who has my watch beeping at me ever to remind me to eat. I don’t get those kinds of reminders, and I don’t want to eat every 15 minutes or 30 minutes during a race. I’m going to just slow drip the calories I have as often as possible—basically it’s an eating contest on the move. Now I know my body functions pretty well with about 200 calories per hour during those efforts. So, depending on the distance between aid stations, I can rely solely on a bottle of Tailwind and then supplement with some chews or waffles or gels, because usually I get actually hungry feeling and having something solid helps with that. But mostly, I’m relying on Tailwind as my backbone to the whole plan and generally aiming for that 200-calorie-per-hour benchmark.

You had to overcome some stomach challenges in UTMB in 2022 and then at last year’s UTMB you seemed as physically challenged as you have ever been. How have you adjusted your fueling in those situations?

The past couple years (working with a nutritionist friend), we’ve been better at creating A, B, C and D plans—because sometimes the perfect nutrition plan that you have relied on isn’t going to work. Our approach is that’s fine, and here are some things you can start subbing in during a race that can cover your needs. I view race nutrition like a puzzle piece, and sometimes it fits into the puzzle right where we want it to, and sometimes we have to kind shift things around a little bit. I think one of the reasons a lot of us love ultrarunning is because, when things just aren’t going to plan, we have to problem-solve it.

You’ll be doing a lot of your pre-Hardrock training in and around Leadville between 11,000 and 14,000 feet above sea level once the spring snow subsides. How are you able to fuel at such high altitudes?

That’s one thing I’m hoping to focus on a little bit more on in this buildup and this prep for Hardrock, because in the past couple times I’ve run it, I’ve struggled a little bit with taking stuff in. I would love to just try to intentionally train my stomach to be better at taking in those calories while pushing hard at 12,500 feet or 13,000 feet just to see if we can make some strides forward. So stay tuned on if that works or not.

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Do you have any bucket list events you want to tackle in the coming years?

Not specific things. I think I want to just keep finding the challenges that intrigue me and fire me up to keep putting in the work, the training, the time, the effort to go after them. And so whatever that is, there’s not a list of things I want to check off necessarily, but, I’m continuing to pour myself into this sport and see what’s possible while every one of my systems [muscular, digestive, endocrine, cognitive, emotional, etc.] is allowing that to happen. The Leadville 100 is on my short list of races I would love to do as soon as I can, but as far as a bucket list in general or what intrigues me, I’m still very interested in exploring the longer stuff and how our brains and our bodies can work together to take us over 100 miles. What does that look like to move efficiently for 200 miles or 500 miles? So that’s where I am putting a lot of my attention into—just finding ways to test myself on stuff that’s really long.

You got into ultrarunning through running road races. Would you ever run another marathon?

I am interested in trying a road marathon again at some point because that was what led me to ultrarunning.. I didn’t think I could make that distance, but I finished without dying and then wondered, ‘What else is out there that sounds too hard that I could try?’ And then I stumbled into the ultrarunning world. In those first marathons, I was a casual runner. I ran every day before work because it made me feel better to start the day, but I wasn’t doing huge miles or running quickly.Ìę So circling back to run a road marathon would be kind of fun.

You’ve talked a lot about your eagerness to enter the pain cave when you’re racing. How did that begin?

I definitely didn’t invent it, and I don’t know who did originally, but I know that for me that phrase just became this imagery that I really grabbed onto—as opposed to the struggle bus or the hurt locker or the many other terms. That one for me was visually something I could see, and it was something that I could work with to be productive. Back in high school, I had a cross country skiing coach who was big on the mental side of the sport and would always remind us and believe in our capacity to push past that moment when it feels like you have nothing left. He was huge on just the idea that there’s always one more gear. So I just crank the knob and believe that it can be cranked a little bit more. Having someone who believed in me so wholeheartedly that I could trust to keep pushing was important because it’s hard to do that when you’re any age, but for sure it’s hard to do when you’re a teenager. The idea that you feel like you’re about to die and yet you’re telling me there’s more to push past that? That’s hard to learn. So I feel really lucky that I had that coach and to learn about that mental side of sports and digging deeper than you think.

You ran the Javelina 100K in Arizona with your mom last October. What was that like? And what has been the lasting effect?

That was so special,Ìę a highlight of my life for sure. We ran together through the desert in Arizona, side by side the whole time through all the highs and lows, and made it to that finish line. I’ll remember that forever, and that gift that she gave me of doing this thing with me and the sport I love and spending so much time preparing for it. She was training hard back home in Minnesota, trying to learn how to run trails, trying to power hike hills, and learning how to use all of the gear because she had never really run trails before. I think the domino effect is that you can start anything at any age. She was 66 when we ran this race together and 64 when she started this journey into trail running. I had told her my dream was to run an ultra with my mom, and now that she has completed a 100K, she has found a lot of joy in the trails. Even though we don’t have a race on the calendar together yet, she is still just finding that peace that the trails bring her, and it’s something she incorporates into her weekly life. I think that’s really cool, and it’s why I hope more people can find out about trail running—not necessarily even ultrarunning—but just getting out on the trails and exploring a little bit because that feeling of moving with your feet surrounded by nature and feeling so small in a big landscape is really, really cool.

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What do you hope runners of any level take away from your success?

My hope is that people hearing about the stuff that I’m doing or that the ultrarunning community is doing helps them believe they could go after something that sounds too hard or something that sounds crazy. Whether that’s running 100 miles or 200 miles or not. We can all find that thing in our lives that we can go after with a little more gusto and raise the bar for ourselves on what we’re actually aiming for. I also hope I can be a small example that you can work really, really, really hard at something and have a lot of fun doing it. Those things can happen at the same time and there’s no reason to separate them. I never predicted this chapter in my life, but I feel grateful every day for it. I’m just trying to squeeze as much living out of this period of life as I can.

RELATED: How Did Courtney Dauwalter Get So Damn Fast?

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It often feels like going green takes a bite out of your wallet. Organic produce, sustainably sourced apparel, electric cars, renewable energy—many of these cost more than traditional goods and services, and the increased prices can force us to make a tough decision. Do we do what’s right for the planet, or make smart financial choices? It’s painful that going green and saving money can often feel mutually exclusive.

I recently discovered that they don’t have to be.

When I started writing this column almost exactly one year ago, my goal was to examine all facets of my life and try to make more sustainable choices every day. I also began tracking how this lifestyle impacted my bank account. After a year, I have been pleasantly surprised. It turns out I have actually saved money—by my count, approximately $9,000.

I analyzed the green products and habits that helped me save the most cash, and have distilled them down into 11 easy actions. They’re accessible choices we can all make–the ones that don’t require fat initial investments. (I bit the bullet and bought an EV, which saved me $700+ in gas last year, but I didn’t include that savings in my tally.)

MostÌęimportantly, these habits have brought me joy, taught me new lessons and skills, and opened my eyes to the many benefits of going through daily life with a sustainable mindset.

How to Save Money While Going Green

I crunched all these numbers using the following assumptions: family of four, New England weather, and local prices. The savings below are conservative estimates.

Shopping Secondhand

Almost everything I’ve bought in the last year has been thrifted, from clothing to kitchen gadgets to garden tools. I’ve scored $230 designer jeans for $8, $150 Brooks Brothers shirts for my sons at $4 apiece, and a fancy $120 rice cooker for $10. And the big score: I found two huge stone planters that would have cost me $1,000 at Pottery Barn. I scooped them up at an estate sale for $20 each.

All told, I saved big in the last year by staying off of Amazon, avoiding spontaneous shopping, and buying most of what I need or want in a pre-loved condition. Plus, thrifting—or treasure hunting, as I have come to think of it—has become not only a way of life, but a hobby. I love trolling the shops on weekends, even if only to search for mason jars.

Total annual savings: at least $3,500

Shopping My Fridge

I used to go to the market almost every day. I’d decide what to make for dinner based on what I was craving or a request from one of my kids and head off with my ingredient list. Now, I do one big shop on the weekend, list in hand. On weekdays, I contemplate the contents of my fridge and pantry and see what mealsÌęI can create. Not only does it cut down on food waste (because I use things up before they spoil), it’s become like a daily puzzle-solving game and I estimate that it saves me about $50 a week. Some recent creations that did not disappoint: veggie fried rice (I make this about once every two weeks), oatmeal fruit smoothies, gojuchang buttered noodles with cucumber salad, chopped Greek salad, and roasted veggie barley soup.

Total annual savings: $2,600

Cooking Plant-Based Twice a Week

The production of meat across the globe accounts for of plant-based foods, according to a 2021 study on nature.com. Turns out a heavy meat-based diet is equally harmful to our bank accounts. I routinely pay $14 for a package of three organic chicken breasts and $16 for two pounds of organic hamburger meat. By simply subbing in dried black beans one night (for a hearty chili) and dried garbanzo beans (for a spicy veggie curry), I save $26 per week, plus have plenty of leftovers for lunches.

Total annual savings: $1,352

Growing My Own Fresh Herbs

I frequently cook with herbs. My typical daily intake includes a big handful of mint in my smoothie, or a mound of cilantro and parsley on my stir fry. Buying fresh herbs at the grocery store has always ticked me off—mostly because of the plastic packaging. I hadn’t given much thought to how much money I was spending, until I did. I actually made a spreadsheet of how often I use a package worth of herbs: parsley, cilantro, basil and chives every week; mont, thyme, and rosemary every other week; dill once a month; bay and sage a couple times a year. Then I tallied up my savings by growing my own, which I’ve been doing for several years–some in planters and some in garden beds. Not only was the savings pretty staggering, but I realized that always having the herbs on hand makes me use them more. Plus they’re pretty.

Total annual savings: $352

Growing My Own Greens

I grow lettuce, spinach, chard (as well as radishes, beets, and carrots) from June to October each year. This saves me a bundle and reduces my household plastic intake considerably (since the best lettuces always come in that annoying clamshell packaging). I’m fortunate to have nice big garden beds, but I have friends who grow them all year round using an aerogarden. Proof that (literally) going green can save you money.

Total annual savings: $320

Make My Own Sparkling Water

We go through a lot of fizzy water in my house. It’s a much healthier alternative to soda, but the price adds up and the recycling bin fills quickly with cans. But I thrifted a $150 Soda Stream for $12 bucks and now I make my own, often adding a squeeze of citrus.

Total annual savings: $286

Turning Down the Heat

We all have sweaters and puffies and beanies—let’s use them! My colleagues who I see every day on Zoom can confirm that I’m always bundled up. But doing so lets me keep the thermostat at 60 degrees FahrenheitÌęall winter long (despite the complaints of my family). Your savings will vary depending on where you live and how you heat your house.

Total annual savings: $270

Swapping Paper Towels for Reusables

My family used to rip through a few rolls of paper towels each week before I stopped buying them. Now we use washable instead (and also stopped buying kitchen sponges). I got a 24-pack for $38.

Total annual savings: $156

Swapping Ziplocs and Plastic Wrap for Reusable Food Storage

Google tells me that the average American family goes through 500 plastic storage bags per year, and that sounds about right to me if you’re using them only once and they’re your main source of storage. Back when I packed school lunches for my kids, I’d blow through 4 to 6 a day without thinking about it. Stretch-Tite plastic wrap was also one of my go-tos, and I used to buy several rolls a year. But now I store everything in reusable, preferably glass storage containers, silicone bags, thrifted mason jars, and repurposed pickle and peanut butter jars.

Total annual savings: $115

Composting

My passion for growing my own food has sprouted into many new sub-hobbies like canning, jelly-making, pickling, and naturally, composting. I used to buy six orÌęseven bags of organic compost for my garden each year at about $17 a pop. Now I make my own, which is a fun science experiment with the added benefit of obliterating food waste in my house.

Total annual savings: $102

Subbing Soap Nuts for Liquid Laundry Soap

After a deep investigation into laundry pods and so-called “green” laundry sheets, I went in search of a way to clean my family’s clothes without plastic and toxic chemicals and discoveredÌę. They’re actually hard-shelled berries that grow in tropical climates and contain saponin, a natural soap. I put five in a little muslin sack, add a few drops of lavender oil per load, and get five to eight loads out of each batch (adding more lavender for each load). Once spent, the nuts go right into my compost. Although it’s not a huge money saver, I like that I’m avoiding all those plastic jugs and keeping bad chemicals out of my clothes and the water table.

Total annual savings: $23

Lessons Learned and Money Saved by Going Green

It might sound corny, but making these changes in my life has brought me great joy: puttering in my garden, treasure hunting in thrift stores and at estate sales, proudly serving my home-grown veggies to hungry loved ones.

These habits have sparked more mindfulness about the things I do and don’t need and taught me to question my consumerism every day. I’ve been hesitant about sustainability evangelizing in the past, not wanting to seem righteous or preachy. But now that I’ve seen how much cash there is to be saved by making these small changes and the pride and joy that comes with it, I’ll gladly talk your ear off about how going green can save you money.

Doing right by the planet can make you happier, healthier, and—yes—wealthier. °żłÜłÙČőŸ±»ć±đ’s head of sustainability, Kristin Hostetter, explores small lifestyle tweaks that can make a big impact. Write to her at climateneutral-ish@outsideinc.com.

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