Lesson #1 - Maintain control of your balls. You never know where they may end up.

I discovered that If you will yourself to not be chosen to participate in the Rarajipari (Tarahumara ball racing) you will be chosen. As Chris Scott was calling out names, nicely written on dollar bills we all placed in a sack earlier in the day, I was silently doing math to myself. If I had any idea that's what the dollar bills had been for, I may have tried to devise a sly way to avoid having my name in the bag.What are the odds, I thought. There is no way. There are so many of us. Please don't pick me, please don't pick me.


"Crista, with a C!" He called out. I stood motionless. There is a reason I'm a runner and don't play sports. I lack a special coordination that is meant for any foot and ball accuracy. I slowly walked towards the starting line, facing my sudden wave of impending doom.

"You look so embarrassed," Chris teased over the loud speaker. I smiled, because unbeknownst to him, I knew what the actual chances were for me to suddenly develop a skill with a grapefruit sized ball was. I'd have better chances carrying a live chicken in a 100 yard dash (Luis Escobar teased us with that idea).

Nevertheless, I still tried to summon within myself a divine kind of request, you know, to the Big Guy Up There. It went something like this:

Come on, please? Just let me do something awesome, blow everyone away or something respectable like that? Or even, just let me finish. Please please pleaaaaaaaasseee.

Within seconds after the race started, my left foot managed to shoot the ball directly under a nearby van. My two other competitors whizzed past me, and I felt a ball of anxiety shove itself into my stomach. I threw myself to the ground in pursuit of my elusive Tarahumara racing ball, and lowered myself under the van. Foxtails jammed into my knees and hands while I searched under the side of the van. Patrick Sweeney appeared on the opposite side (to my rescue!), and yanked the ball out from, I swear , a magical blind spot where I had just been looking.

"You suck at ball racing," Luis Escobar joked with me as I went off to finish. A mini crowd had formed around the van, obviously noticing that this girl needed a little extra help with this, uh, big challenge. I finished the second half of the 100 yard sprint (I could have run a mile faster with just my own two feet). "This is why I can't play soccer," I laughed as I kicked the ball, carefully, towards the finish line.



Lesson #2 - The importance of the type of shoe you wear means less than you really think.





I discovered a new breed of running shoe this weekend, and it radically changed the way I looked at long distance running. The Hoka, a maximalist shoe, was donned by literally every other long distance runner I encountered. They look like platforms, really. When I asked someone about their balance in them,one person replied that she "had never fallen" in them, and "they really made it easier" on her feet during the bigger digit races. Some compared them to walking on clouds.

All I could think to myself was, this directly goes against the recent trends in running shoes.

To add to the confusion in my already commercially-induced shoe-buying obsession, the creators of Luna Sandals also ran in the race. Watching runners bust out 62-Milers like a breeze in a pair of strappy sandals will definitely send anyone into a spiraling confusion of what your foot actually needs. Is it a soft, cushioned ride? Or bare essential, gait-perfecting strappy badassery?

I'll let the words of the late Micah True answer this one: it doesn't matter what type of shoe you wear. Just run happy, enjoy yourself, enjoy the scenery.

Whatever works for you, do it.

Lesson #3 - Mariachi music is the last thing you'd expect to wake up to, the morning of your race.



Somewhere between Dreamland and the feeling of the hard ground digging into my side, I was awakened by a sound I never imagined to be our wake up call.

"I wonder if I should set my alarm," I had said earlier in the day. A fellow runner laughed at this, obviously remembering the events from the previous year, and said quite slyly, "Oh, I have a feeling you won't be needing an alarm. You won't sleep through the wake up call."


My neighbors actually made me laugh pretty hard as I was pulling on my running clothes (shivering madly-- it was still very dark out and freezing!) because they were singing along to the songs. Trumpets, classical guitars, and smooth singing-- what a way to start our day!

Aye yi yiiiii, Mi amooorreeeeee....


Lesson #4 -  Stories of dead cows giving birth to also-dead calves in the middle of the trail (while simultaneously getting their eyes pecked out by vultures) may create enough mental imagery to never remove the scene from your mind. Even if you never had the uh, pleasure (?) of seeing it with your own two eyes.


I literally heard so many different takes on this ridiculous event that I feel like I will never be able to wipe my memory clean. I didn't even see it and I can picture it almost horrifyingly well in my mind . "I thought someone dragged it out there as a joke," A runner told Luis Escobar, while sitting in front of the fire later on in the evening. He laughed, "I couldn't have even made that up. That would be one pretty sick joke."

Here are some other commentaries I heard throughout the day:

"I felt bad for the ladies," One runner said. "I wanted to run back and stop them from seeing it!"

"I didn't even know it was dead at first. I just thought it was sleeping on the trail. 'I thought, Cool, just have to run around it, and then I saw the vultures."

"They finally dragged it off the trail, and now it's just off to the side with it's legs in the air!"

"How does that even happen?"

"Did you see the dead cow?" One runner asked another, while sitting around the fire.
The expression on the man's face was priceless. I knew it must have been a good sight just from seeing the reaction out of the men. If a man is disgusted, you know it's bad. 

I waited for these words all day: Anyone want beef or veal tonight?. But alas, there was no Filet Mignon. I had my A1 sauce ready, I can admit it! ;-) Survival of the fittest, AmIRight?!


Lesson #4 : "You had me at the words tattooing at the Born To Run Ultramarathon."


I knew that there would be tattooing at the Born To Run Ultramarathon. I had the mental preparation. Sort of.

The majority of the people got running-themed tattoos. Such as, "Born To Run", "Run Free", and the coveted, "Mas Locos" title earned by running in the Copper Canyon Ultra Marathon. Because I have yet to truly enter the world of Ultrarunning, I knew that getting such a tattoo would not be nearly as meaningful for me (yet).

I talked to the tattoo artist, Mike Rose (who flew out all the way from Florida for this event!) about some of my ideas. Thankfully, he steered me away from some cliche' tattoos I had tossed around in my head. And then an idea hit me -- a dreamcatcher.

Many of my tattoos symbolize what they are-- hearts on my wrist, well, are just hearts on my wrist. The Buddhist sanscrit Om Mani Padme Hume on my back says exactly what it means.

As I was running a shockingly effortless 10-Miles in the morning, a thought came to my mind: Running is my safe-haven. Where I go to release my demons. Center myself. Battle my fears.

When I was a child, I was given a dreamcatcher. I was told it would take all of my bad dreams away and hold them. Unfortunately, this did little to calm my overly-active mind.

Running was my true dreamcatcher. So I decided to get one tattooed on me, while at this race to always remind myself of the cathartic experiences I have while running through the trails.

"You know what they symbolize, right?" Maria Walton told me, as she was getting her own beautiful ink tribute to Micah True. "They hold on to your greatest fears, save you from them."



I told her about running being my dreamcatcher for me, and how I want to always have a reminder of that and this experience.


 Now, excuse me for being absolutely disgusting with this part, but it's a fact of life, folks. You have to poop. Especially, if you are cramming enough food in your body to feed an entire 100-Miler journey (I only ran 10 miles initially, I had no excuse).

Camping is one great excuse to eat whatever you want. Hell, you're out in the middle of nowhere, sleeping on (sometimes) the most uncomfortable of surfaces (Thermarest, you help, but in no way compare to my memory foam mattress) so the natural way to make it all better is FOOD!

I normally eat a pretty clean diet. I'm talking carrots, hummus, and spinach galore. Here, on the other hand, I packed the most junk-food I could handle.


It only took me another few minutes to decide that I would be her pacer for the last 10-Miles of her 100-Miler.

Flash forward to 10:30 PM. Carolyn crosses through the aid station, and began filling up her water bottle and sucking down an energy goo.

I quickly rushed up to her. "I'll do it!" I told her. "What time should I be here for your last lap?"

Because this was no fancy race (thank GOD), there were no timing chips. I had to just have a good idea of when she was going to be at the finish line and then I'd wait for her.

"Around 2:30 AM, I think," She told me. I saw the fear in her eyes when she told me the time. I shrugged it off.
"I'll be waiting by the fire!" I told her. And I set out immediately to lay down for a few hours before running with her. Boy, let me tell you, I sure as hell felt guilty sleeping knowing she was out there, in the middle of nowhere, running on the trails with just a headlamp.

Another runner, Flint, had almost convinced me to run the last two loops with her. "It would totally count as a 50k," He told me, and I immediately felt myself want to jump into it feet first.

It wasn't until I learned that she was currently in first place for the women's 100-Miler that I decided to just do the last 10. I was honestly concerned about slowing her down.

My alarm went off at 2:30 AM after a surprisingly heavy sleep. I quickly rushed down to the campfire and starting line to wait for her. There were a few people huddled around the fire, some who were taking a break from the trails, some who were waiting to cheer on their friends, and others who had dropped out and not-yet made it back to their tents.

At 3:00 AM Carolyn appeared out of the darkness. She was shaken up, visibly crumbling and I knew in this moment that my job was not to pace her, but to help keep her going and be a moral support.

"You regretting this yet?" She hesitantly asked me, with a shaky laugh that said more than her words.
"No way!" I told her, dismissing the idea. "This is an honor!"

Off we went, shuffling into the darkness, headlamps bobbing on our heads.

The trails at night were very different. Never in my life had I ran at night, let alone in the middle of the night, let alone in the middle of the night on a trail out in the middle of nowhere.

"There was a pack of coyotes following me earlier," She told me. I found myself scanning the rows of trees and being reminded of scenes from The Blair Witch Project.

I couldn't believe that she was going at this all night long.

"The nights are long," she told me. "It's nice to have some company out there."

We didn't talk as much as we did during our first ten miles together. But we continued on, and I would remind her throughout the run that this was her last lap, she was so close to finishing, AND she was well ahead of her projected goal time.

"That elusive 24 hours doesn't seem so elusive anymore, does it?" I told her. She cracked a smile. A valuable thing when a runner is approaching 98 miles.

Time, for me at least, seemed to pass quickly. We went through two aid stations where I picked up peanut butter and jelly sandwiches that I ate along the way.

I tried not to ask her how much further we had, until I was convinced it wasn't much further.

"We are at mile 98," She told me. I started jumping up and down.

"TWO MILES!" I yelled out into the darkness. "You will be done in two miles and there is nobody else behind us for miles. You're gunna win this thing!"

Her disposition changed drastically. You could see relief and happiness flooding her entire body. Within minutes, we had the finish line in our sights and we shuffled towards it.

"I hope you know you're an incredible inspiration to me," I told her as we neared the finish.

She laughed, obviously not taking me seriously, which only added to my admiration of her. She had no idea how mind-blowingly amazing she was, and how she completed a feat that I still struggle with wrapping my mind around.

Here she is, ladies and gentlemen, the female winner of the 100-Mile Born To Run Ultramarathon. Mother of three, powerhouse of a woman, and my inspiration!

Before I met Carolyn, I had no idea how people were capable of running more than a marathon (which in and of itself is a scary idea to me, still). After this experience, and meeting all the wonderful people I did, I have a feeling I'm going to be sucked in for life.

Next year, I'm planning on running the 50k (31 miles) and pacing Mike Epler for the last 10 Miles of his 100.

It wasn't until after Carolyn went off to bed that something struck me: I had ran 20 miles in under 24 hours. Although it was not back-to-back miles, it was still the furthest distance I had ever ran in my life. Before this race, I had not even ran 10 miles once. Doing it twice was something I never thought possible.

Here I realized that I am capable of anything I set my mind to do. It's an amazing and empowering feeling. I'll never forget it. 

Thank you to everyone who was there at the Born To Run Ultramarathon. It will live on in my memory forever. I cannot wait until next year :)

UPDATE
Here is a video I made from the race:

I am on the brink of insanity. No, it's not the massive amounts of papers and research I've been struggling with for my graduate degree. No, it's not the lack of money in my bank account. And no, it's not even dealing with life's common blunders.

I am losing my mind because of a pint-sized Mockingbird that has invaded my world and refuses to go away.

It all started two weeks ago when I found myself unable to fall asleep at night. It sounded like a car alarm, in varying pitches and tunes going off right behind my bedroom. The first five minutes it was intriguing for it's lack of giving up. It reminded me of a time when I was on a trip in Hawaii, and every morning I was woken up by the horrific monkey calls of a Franklin bird. When I asked the hotel staff about this curious sounding bird call, one of the staffers affectionately called them "The Single Ladies". Perplexed, he went into more detail. "You know," he said, shimmying his arms a bit. "Like the Beyonce' song. They are calling out to their mates. 'All the single ladies, all the single ladies!'. 


Unlike in Hawaii, where the birds were more like Roosters who started crowing with the sunrise, these little shitheads only sing at night. I kid you not. This little hell-raiser sings from (drum roll please...) 11:59PM until around 5 AM. The first night I noticed this pattern I wanted to rouse all my neighbors to create a diabolical plan to assassinate these birds. There is NO WAY, I thought to myself. No way these birds can be doing this on purpose. 


The second night of a ear-plug induced insanity (I could still hear the birds faint cries) I finally hit a breaking point. I strapped on my head lamp, around 3 AM, and climbed the tree behind my bedroom. It was a futile attempt, mostly getting myself covered in tree sap and GOD KNOWS what other bugs/creepy crawlies.

Currently, there are an assortment of objects littering the ground under the tree, remnants of my failed attempts at scaring off this bird.

I wanted to KILL. Then upon some research, I discovered, of course, these birds are protected. A phone call to animal removal will most surely result in either being laughed at over the phone or after they hang up on me. I told my Grandfather about the bird, and his suggestion was simple: Sleep in a different place.

My rage is at a boiling point. Move rooms just because of a bird? What if it stayed....forever?

Because I can't ignore something that refuses to go unnoticed (it has now taken to singing at night and day, JOY!) I did what any other normal person would do....google "How To Kill A Mockingbird".

....this brought up an entirely different set of results. For obvious reasons.

But, I found this lovely blog written by a guy with a similar problem: http://toddbeeby.wordpress.com/2009/06/16/mockingbird/

His solution? Power-hosing the little bastard into oblivion.

Let me tell you, I have now started looking at my gardening tools in an entirely different light.

My game plan: target practice. 5 PM. My backyard. No killing, just some gentle encouragement for the dear Mockingbird to take his song elsewhere.

Last year if you would have told me that I would be planning to run a half marathon on my 24th birthday, I would have laughed in your face. Even more, if you would have asked me a couple years back, I would have said you were crazy. I only wish I could find my race photo from my first 5k (3 miles) two years ago. I looked absolutely miserable, hated life, and crossed the finish line over 40 minutes later. Running was a painful experience that sent shockwaves through my body with each step.

Today, I ran nine miles on the beach and at times I felt like I was weightless, lost in my thoughts or observing something as I was passing it by. I realized that I had come a long way from my painful 5k's. Then something else struck me: the first 3-4 miles for me are always the hardest. It is in these miles that I experience the greatest amount of negative thoughts and attitudes towards running. Because I had never taken my distance past 3 miles for almost a year straight, EVERY SINGLE RUN was miserable. I never got to experience the joy of running through the fields, along the shoreline in the mornings, or on long trail runs with my friends.

I made a lot of changes this year that broke me out of my 3 mile gridlock. The first important change I made was in my consistency. Instead of running once or twice a week (which never allows for your body to adjust) I started running 4-5 times a week. I learned that it actually hurts less if you run more often versus running every once in a while. Second, I lost weight. Having an extra 15-20 pounds on your frame makes a SIGNIFICANT difference in your running form, your endurance, and how it affects your joints. I constantly had knee/ankle/hip issues when I was 20 pounds heavier. I, of course, blamed everything under the sun except my weight. The thing is, I didn't lose weight to become a better runner. I started to eat healthy because I realized that it greatly affected how I felt the next day during my run.


 I'll give you an example. Last year I had a really heavy dinner at one of my favorite Chinese food restaurants. The next morning my entire body felt like it weighed a million pounds. My heart hurt, joints hurt, legs were heavy. I racked my brain for the reason why I felt especially "blah". I was running with my cousin at the time, and she went through her mental list of things that will affect your running performance. "What did you eat last night?" She asked me. "Orange chicken and chow mein," I answered. "There's your problem! Of course you feel this way!"It was then that I made a mental note to quit it with the heavy, greasy, delicious food that will plague me for an entire day after I finished my meal. Although it tasted heavenly in the moment, the side-affects were astronomical.

The third most important thing that has shifted me from being a terrible 5k-er into a relatively decent runner gearing up for a half-marathon is simply SIGNING UP FOR RACES.

I cannot emphasize this enough. There have been countless (and I mean, like, once a week at least) times when I didn't want to run in the morning. I am the Queen of Excuses, especially when it means getting my ass out of bed a little early and going to run 5-6 miles at the beach by myself. Who wouldn't rather just sleep in? Many times the only thing dragging me out of bed was the knowledge that if I didn't run that day, it would throw off my entire running schedule. I wouldn't be able to perform well at my next race. Or, worse, I would make myself vulnerable to injury by not being prepared enough.

So what I did was sign up for a few 5k's during the first two-three months of my training. Then, I added a 10k (6.2 Miles), and a 10-Miler. The goal was to gradually build up my distances with set goals along the way to mark my progress. Not only do I look forward to these races, they give me a sense of purpose, community, and a chance to show myself how far I have come.


This next weekend I have my first 10-Mile race. It will be the first time I have ran 10 miles. I have been building up my weekly mileage gradually over the past few months, and it really blows my mind how I can run 9 miles without any aches and pains. After my 10-miler this weekend, I have my first Half-Marathon on my birthday (in about two weeks from today). I have to admit, I'm a little afraid, but I know I have put the work into it.


All I can say is I CANNOT WAIT until my birthday Champagne Brunch I will be heading to immediately after I finish my race ;-) Work hard, play hard!

Undeniably, one the biggest things that runner's always discuss and argue about is shoes. Recently, the minimalist movement, thanks to individuals like Barefoot Ted and Christopher McDougall, the big brand shoe companies have started their own lines of barefoot-style shoes. Vibram, a company which originally designed the Five Fingers for sailors and surfers, was contacted by Barefoot Ted. He had ran the Boston Marathon in a pair of their five fingers and argued that human beings have perfect form-- so why wear shoes? Because he completed the huge feat without major injuries, many people jumped on the minimalist bandwagon.



Including Vibram, who within five years time would sell their patent to over six different shoe companies (Including Merrell and New Balance, to name a few). Funny thing is, they only sold the sole patent, which means there are countless running shoes being sold currently with the top half made by the shoe company and the soles made by Vibram. Those who did not purchase the Vibram sole-patent (I'm looking at YOU, Nike) tried to follow the minimalist movement on their own accord. Nike developed the Nike-Free, a relatively mid-range running shoe that is a cross between the standard running shoe and a minimalist one.

In all of this excitement over a "new style" of running, many VERY important pieces of information were overlooked. I'm going to go over a few things that I have learned the hard way. Many people looked at Barefoot Ted completing the Boston Marathon in Vibrams to be the ultimate show of why human beings don't need to wear shoes. What went completely unnoticed by the majority of the population (AND shoe companies) was the fact that Barefoot Ted had been running barefoot for over twenty years prior to running in the Vibrams during that race. Although on his personal website and in his books he discusses running barefoot to be more like "orchard growing-- slow and gradual over a number of years", nobody was listening to the important bits of information.

They wanted to be faster, they wanted to be trendy, they wanted better form, and I WAS ONE OF THEM.

Last year, I jumped on the Nike-Free consumer bandwagon. It was recommended to many runners as being a great transitional shoe.



I, of course, am hardly one to listen to others when they are giving me advice I don't want to take. I have to admit I did hear a few different times that you should gradually transition into new shoes (this goes for any pair of new shoes, minimalist or not). The point was that your muscle groups must develop enough to support your body. Over the years, wearing nice and cushioned shoes have atrophied our muscles to the point of (almost) no return. Because of this, jumping right into a pair of minimalist shoes with underdeveloped muscles is WORSE than whatever you were doing before.

How do I know this? Because I made the Mistake Number 1: Not allowing my feet/legs/body transition slowly to running in a lesser protected and more injury prone style of shoes.

The confusing part about minimalist shoes is the constant claim that they prevent injury, perfect your style, and are the ultimate, end-all, best thing ever.

This is NOT TRUE.

If you are overweight, it's already hard enough on your joints and body to handle the shock of running. The LAST THING you want to do in this state is allow your sloppy running style to destroy your feet.

When I first started running in the Nike Free's, I took nobodies advice. I not only logged twice the amount of miles I had previously been running from one week to the next (come on...new shoes are exciting!), but I also ran much harder and faster.

....It took me about a week to injure myself. I had pains in the arches of my feet, my knee's burned whenever I walked down stairs, and my hips felt like they wanted to go out. I was 22 at the time and felt like a crippled old woman.

The last thing a new runner needs is an injury to de-motivate them and convince them that "running is bad for you!"

But, of course, I didn't want to admit the injuries were a result of the shoes. So instead I blamed my increase in mileage instead.

Two months later, I purchased a pair of Merrell Pace Gloves. These trail shoes are designed with the Vibram sole and glove-like fit. The idea for this is, if you weren't down with the Five-Fingers (and wanted more of a traditional "shoe" fit with the Vibram sole advantage) this would be the next best thing.





So cute, right?! ....Once again, I didn't listen to advice from others OR experience from previous shoe injuries (how ignorant can you get?!). It took me another week or so to get injured in these guys. This time, I completely blamed the shoe. I developed a stress fracture on the top of my right foot which put me out for three weeks. I threw the shoes into the corner of my room and never looked back.

By this point, I had been running (carefully) in my Nike Free's. Little did I know, my muscle groups were slowly developing to the Nike Free's. Asking them to jump to the Merrell's while I was still adjusting to the Free's was a silly thing to do. But I didn't think about it. I just did it.

I spent the entire year running carefully and fearfully in both the Nike Free's and Merrell Pace Gloves (Which I forgave immediately after my foot healed). I did not see improvements in my running style whatsoever. I did not see improvements in my speed. All I felt like was I had smaller looking feet because the shoes were like gloves.

The biggest change that I have done for myself in running has been to lose weight and focus on my form. Those two factors are the biggest that come into play while deciding if wearing minimalist shoes is right for you.

If you have perfect form and are at a healthy weight for your body type, Merrells should work seamlessly for you.

When I finally reached my goal weight, I noticed my body start to develop a better running form. It was then that I felt like I was able to reach longer distances more consistently without a pain in my knees or developing another stress fracture in my foot.


It had literally taken me a year to transition (as a non-runner) from normal running shoes to the Nike Free's (a cross between standard and minimalist running shoes). It took another year for me to transition to wearing my Merrell's. I still have to be CONSTANTLY vigilant over my running form. If I get lazy or sloppy with my running style, I can almost guarantee myself aches and pains. There is nothing worse than bad running form in a pair of minimalist shoes.

All this being said, one of the most important things to be mindful of is enjoying yourself while you run. One of my favorite runners of all time, Micah True (AKA Caballo Blanco) once said that it doesn't matter what type of running shoe you have. It's all about form and enjoying yourself. Being in the moment, adjusting your body to the terrain and being mindful of your steps.

My advice is: be cautious while transitioning to any type of shoe. I recently purchased a pair of New Balance Minimus Zero-Drops. My first goal is to NOT GET INJURED while breaking in this pair. Although my body has transitioned to the minimalist style of running, that does not mean didley squat when considering all shoes are designed differently and may evoke different muscle groups.


Whether you decide to wear traditional shoes or minimalist, just remember to enjoy yourself. The point of running is for the joy of it. If not, why run in the first place? That being said, a new pair of shoes can definitely be the motivation that many need to get out running. Either way, get out there and have fun!

So, people ask me how I crochet owls. And to be honest, I can't really give them a great answer. I have no idea how to read patterns, or let alone how to write them. I figured, the next best thing would be step-by-step photos of how I create the owls. This owl I made for my friend Olivia :)

Two years ago, while on traveling out of the country for the first time (Peru), I got terribly sick. Not in the, "I drank the water, now I have the shits for days" sort of sick. It was the, "I can't stand up straight, and I feel like I'm dying from the inside out" sort of sick. The saddest part of the whole situation was it was pretty much a food-induced sickness. I had eaten myself into a foggy, lethargic sandpit before I had left-- I had been told that I'd be eating an entirely vegetarian diet the majority of the time I would be in Peru. So....I did what any normal person would do. I ate all my favorite foods for the week before my trip. At the time, I was pretty much in the worst shape of my life, in the worst health condition, and in a third world country. It didn't get much worse than that.

How had I allowed myself to get to that point? I ran track, swam, and played water polo in high school. I was athletic all my life. Then it kind of just hit me all at once (it's silly to think of how obvious it was). My diet was completely destroying my body. The "I can eat whatever I want!" rule, although it may have not been affecting my waist line, it was significantly impacting my health.

Let's talk burgers. During my undergrad, for five entire years, I had to drive past In & Out Burger THREE TIMES on my way to school. Three separate locations, all conveniently right off the exit. So, that's a total of six moments that I had to exercise self-control while usually starving. I mean, if we are being honest, In & Out is as close to a perfect meal as possible. It NEVER disappoints. You can't really make that claim with many food establishment meals under five dollars. And being a college student, it was more in my price range than going into Whole Foods and spending my entire months food budget on some fancy kale chips and expensive rare fruits. So for five years, I averaged a burger almost every day. EVERY DAY.