Solo Female Runcations: How Movement, Motherhood, and Community Shape a Life

By Kati Burton

Photography by Andrew B. and Ricardo Guadarrama

As a kid, my family did not go on vacations. My parents caught the travel trend early and took us on “run- and swim-cations.” My brother, sister, and I would cheer on the sidelines, fearing a shark attack and patiently waiting for the post-race party.

These trips showed us the humanity in our parents. We witnessed their obvious nerves, the bravery to overcome them, and their humility regardless of the outcome. We also tagged along during training, which often involved a multi-sport course at the crack of dawn: running from the main lifeguard tower at Easton’s Beach in Newport, Rhode Island, to the Cliff Walk bike path, where we would dive into the icy cold water and swim back to shore. I feared for my life. Every. Damn. Time. And yet, the wet hug and elation we shared safely back on the beach shaped my desire for “type 2” fun for as long as I can remember.

Today, it’s easy to admit gratitude to my parents for this upbringing. Over the years, I have maintained a healthy dose of movement (running, swimming, rowing, kayaking, climbing), often solo, but also alongside others who find purpose in adventure. I am also grateful to have a partner who was willing to run a 50k in Canada for our honeymoon, with whom I continue to run the world.

When our daughter, Agathe, was born in 2020, during the COVID-19 pandemic, our world got much smaller. Relying on local adventure became a silver lining, a way to get to know a new life as parents. Our little family went on neighborhood hikes, camped 100 yards away from other families, and we supported my partner on a 100k trail run in Idaho (wearing a mask!) when Agathe was 6 weeks old.

The first six months postpartum were surprisingly full of rest and joy. Due to pandemic restrictions, I stayed home with the baby for six months, much longer than a maternity leave provides in the U.S. We went on stroller walks, with a curious Agathe cooing at the changing leaves, the breeze wrinkling her little nose. When I was called back to work, I also started running again. My body had evolved since carrying and birthing a child, and I felt awkward and slow. I finished a 30k race in Moab, Utah, when Agathe was nine months old, leaking from both ends. While uncomfortable, running was still possible, and I kept at it.

Only a few months later, a debilitating fatigue took over me, my hair started falling out, I unknowingly lost 15 pounds, and I stopped producing breast milk. I sank into a deep depression. Lack of sleep, purpose, and ability to move like I used to, plus this mystery illness, made me feel like I was quickly fizzling out. After a series of small panic attacks and near blackouts, I went to the doctor. I learned I had celiac disease. The knowledge that gluten, a protein found in wheat, barley, and rye, was damaging my small intestines was lifesaving. Many people suffer for years without a diagnosis.

Despite adhering to a gluten-free diet, I was sick for an entire year with headaches, gastrointestinal distress, and fatigue as my body detoxed. Running was out of the question. I went on slow hikes, Agathe in tow, and swam before work. This was the loneliest time I can recall. No more races or run clubs meant no social relief, and with my strong foundation in movement together, I was at a loss. I saw a future without, even though my life was quite full.

Near the end of 2022, my symptoms eased, and I spent the following year back on the trails. I started reconnecting with old running partners and resources, such as Aire Libre. I’ll never forget opening an email that said there was “1 spot left” for the Patagonia Lake District experience. I ran down the stairs and told my husband about it. Being the partner he is, he told me to run back up the stairs and book it. I was instantly anxious:

I am a new mom, and she might need me.

I am just now able to run 5 miles without shitting myself.

I am a woman, alone, and have signed up to run nearly 10,000 km away from home (a 22-hour flight).

Throughout the 8-day experience, I started to realize that I needed to let go of the labels I had arrived with (mom, runner, woman), and melt into the humanity I exist in. Aire Libre curated a trip that reminded me of my origins.

Under the local expertise of Claudio, Polo, Sofi, and Andrew, I was far from alone on this trip. I had many quiet moments, however, spending time listening to other travelers, locals, and the land itself. Throughout the eight-day experience, I started to realize that I needed to let go of the labels I had arrived with (mom, runner, woman) and melt into the humanity I exist in. Aire Libre curated a trip that reminded me of my origins. Our built family did hard things together, followed by elation and deliciously nourishing foods (even gluten-free!). I thought about my mother’s wet hug after our early morning swims a lot on this trip. Patagonia itself (the people and spirits, the volcanoes, the enduring culture) welcomed me as family. Even though I left home solo, in this beautiful place, I was alive and playful, the me that I am with the closest of friends and family.

Aire Libre fosters a sense of community and openness, evident in nightly sharing circles. Our crew in Patagonia shared so deeply, many of us were crying and hugging by the end of each evening. As a traveler who arrived tentative and alone, I left full of gratitude for new friends and a renewed confidence that, regardless of the roles I play at home, I am just me: open, listening, wandering, trusting. My family at Aire Libre offers a chance to experience a renewed sense of self while absorbing the light and love of the world.

Returning home from this trip, I started running wherever I went, signing up for races in faraway places and instigating runcations with family and friends. I also started running with more people, especially women who were uncomfortable running alone or on icy roads. Aire Libre has inspired me to pay homage to my roots and to take the leap; grit is catchy, and I’ve got a little one watching.

About Kati Burton

Kati Burton lives in Missoula, Montana, with her forever running partners: 5-year-old Agathe, her partner Josh, and their dog, Dakota.

Kati is currently forming a women’s run club in partnership with a local coffee shop to build safer, intentional spaces for women in her hometown. When not adventuring, Kati serves as a registered dietitian nutritionist to the Confederated Salish and Kootenai Tribes, though she often gets out and about with her patients too. Kati recently participated in her second trip with Aire Libre, the CDMX Half Marathon Experience, where she ran her first road race in years.