Running Blind
/By Stephanie Maltarich, produced by Out There Podcast
Released on May 6, 2021
Welcome to Out There Podcast. Our stories are written for the ear, so for those able, we recommend listening while reading along. Transcripts may contain minor errors; please check the audio before quoting.
WILLOW BELDEN: Support for Out There comes from Kula Cloth. Kula Cloth is a high-tech pee cloth for women and anyone who squats when they pee.
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(Out There theme music begins)
WILLOW: Hi, I’m Willow Belden, and you’re listening to Out There, the podcast that explores big questions through intimate stories outdoors.
As more people are getting vaccinated, and the world is slowly opening up again, many of us are reflecting on the isolation we’ve experienced this past year. I know I am. The pandemic cut me off from normal human interaction. And, especially in the early days, that brought a level of isolation that I had never experienced.
It’s a relief to know that I’ll be able to start getting back to normal this year. Or at least, whatever the new normal looks like.
But not everyone can escape their aloneness.
On this episode, we’re going to hear the story of one woman who has been dealing with deep isolation for decades. Isolation is not what defines her, by any means, but it is an ongoing reality for her. And it’s something she will continue to experience, even after much of the world returns to a “new normal.”
Stephanie Maltarich has the story.
(music ends)
STEPHANIE MALTARICH: I met Luanne Burke nearly six years ago, on a backpacking trip for visually impaired women. The trip was dreamy. We spent five days in the desert near the Colorado-Utah border.
I was one of Luanne’s hiking guides during the trip. Our days were spent traveling along the sandy trails while finding creeks to jump into and waterfalls to stand beneath.
She and I laughed a lot. We bonded over our love of coffee, chocolate, and yoga.
Luanne is blind. But at the time, she could still see a little — shadows, shapes, things like that. I remember how she held desert flower petals between her finger tips. She told me that sometimes, she could make out a shadow or a hint of color.
One night the moon, a harvest moon, rose above one of the bluffs that encircled the canyon. Luanne remembers it well.
LUANNE BURKE: Well, I had more light sensitivity then and I could have a little more grasp of my surroundings, or I don't know if it was more imagination. I could still see really high contrast light and dark.
And the moon was the last thing that went for me. And I can no longer see the moon, which I’m very sad about, but I still go out. Anytime there is a full moon or anything like that, I go tell my friend “Let’s go! Let’s go. It’s gonna be out there, let’s go watch it come over.” I can’t see it, but I want to be there. I want the moonlight to shine on me. I can’t see the light at all, but it still means a lot to me to go find it.
STEPHANIE: Luanne and I stayed in touch after the trip. Later that year, we made plans to complete an iconic hike over a 12,000-foot pass near my home in Colorado. It was a long day; we were on the trail for nearly 10 hours. But the time passed quickly as we laughed and talked about relationships, travel goals, and life. We slowly picked our way across the rocky alpine trail and over the pass.
I walked ahead and Luanne followed. I helped her find her way by tapping rocks with my trekking pole so she could navigate around them. Other times I’d simply explain the terrain ahead of us: whether there were trees she needed to walk around or a steep hill that we were about to climb.
When we finished the hike, we reveled in the golden sun, celebrating a wonderful day in the mountains.
(quiet music begins)
In these moments, in developing my friendship with Luanne, I saw her as someone living a full life. She seized experiences and got outside often. She adventured in the mountains and ran races. She surprised people.
It wasn’t until later on that I learned how profoundly isolated her life had been.
(music fades out)
Growing up, she was an outdoorsy kid. She spent a ton of time in the mountains with her dad and brothers. She remembers swinging from cottonwood trees and going on camping and backpacking trips with her dad.
And then there was running.
It was the 1970s, and she was in seventh grade. Her female gym teacher required the class full of girls to complete a 5K. Most of the girls didn’t want to run, but Luanne could feel the physical excitement in her body.
(jubilant music begins)
LUANNE: I was just elated. I was so thrilled, I was just, I mean my endorphins were pumping. When they saw me coming they’re like, “Oh my God! Look, it’s Luanne!” and they were cheering me on.
They just couldn’t believe it. I was the puniest girl in the whole school, there was one girl smaller than me, and I was just bringing it in. And I was so excited, and so happy, and I was so proud. I had never been so proud in my life. And I had never done anything that made me feel that good about myself.
STEPHANIE: After that day, she wanted to run every day, and she did. She found a friend who woke up with her at 6 a.m. to run before school.
(music fades out)
But when she was 19 everything changed — all at once. She can recall the day, 40 years ago, like it was yesterday.
Luanne had made an appointment to see a new eye doctor for a routine checkup. She hadn’t had a check-up in years despite wearing glasses since she was six years old. She stopped wearing them as a teenager because she disliked the way they looked. But now, she wanted to be able to see a little better.
She figured the checkup would be routine. She’d get her eyes checked, get new glasses, and be on her way. But as soon as the doctor started examining her, she learned it wasn’t going to be a normal appointment.
LUANNE: He looked into my eyes, and then he said he had to leave the room for a little bit and he left. He and his nurse, I guess, came in and turned the lights on. And he asked me: “Has anyone ever told you anything unusual about your eyes?”
I’m like, “Oh yeah, I think I got some eye disease.”
He took a big sigh. And then he asked me how I got there that day, and I told him I drove. And what happened is he went on with the eye exam, and later he informed me and my family that I should not be driving, and should no longer drive.
STEPHANIE: Luanne was shocked. She knew that an eye disease, Retinitis Pigmentosa, ran in her family, but no one ever talked to her about it. Her brother was diagnosed, but she wasn’t sure if she had it or not.
Looking back, she knows that she didn’t always understand what other people were seeing. Like when she went skiing in junior high, she never understood how people could see the trails or ski through the trees.
But it was never something she worried about, she could still see ENOUGH.
On this pivotal day in her life, she was told she was legally blind. The doctor called her parents and told them that she couldn’t safely drive anymore. He recommended she didn’t drive home from her appointment. That would be the beginning of a life of isolation.
LUANNE: You know, I was young. I wanted to go out dancing, I wanted to do stuff. I had to ask for rides. We didn't take taxis in the 80s in Fort Collins. It changed how I socialized. I really missed out on a lot of things....a lot, yeah. And that continued. It continues.
STEPHANIE: Despite this life-altering news, she was able to go on with life as usual in many ways for a while. She was in college and was able to walk everywhere she needed to go. Her vision was bad, but not bad enough that others would notice.
But then she finished college and returned home to rural Colorado. If you’ve ever lived in a rural area, you know it’s pretty much impossible to get around without a car. And Luanne wasn’t allowed to drive. All of a sudden, the isolation felt overwhelming.
LUANNE: That’s when it all really hit. I was on my knees, on my knees for sure. I had this really, really great friend, who I still have. And I was like, “I don’t understand how am I going to make it in the world. What am I gonna do? Why is it like this for me?”
And it’s the only time I really ever asked that question.
Her answer was, “Well, maybe it’s because God thinks you’re strong enough.”
(somber music starts)
STEPHANIE: These words stayed with her. And helped her see through something that seemed impossible. But they didn’t make the isolation go away.
LUANNE: I still looked the same, I still moved around the same, everybody thought of me the same, but my world had changed dramatically, because we have a very mobile society, and I could not fit into it the same way.
That's actually, too, when I really started running a lot more miles, because I was waiting around a couple times for rides for something and I was like, “F-THIS.” I put on my little fanny pack, and my running shoes, and I’m like, “I’m running everywhere I need to go. I am not waiting for one bus that travels around this town.”
(music ends)
STEPHANIE: Even though her reality had shifted completely, she committed to exploring the possibilities of a new life. She was hired as a caretaker for a man who was quadriplegic and used a wheelchair. During her time with him, she learned about how people with disabilities navigated the world.
She learned about the possibilities, about different sports for adaptive athletes. She learned that there was a way to live with her disability, even if it looked different than she imagined.
(music begins)
But her eyesight continued to get worse. Until this point, she could still see a tiny bit. Now, even that was fading.
She recalls a day when she went skiing and felt so disoriented. Moving downhill, she felt like she went over the edge of a cliff and tumbled and tumbled to a stop. She had no idea where she was.
When she finally made it down the mountain, she realized she couldn’t ignore her disability. She couldn’t get by on her own anymore.
(music fades out)
WILLOW: Hey, it’s Willow. We’ll hear the rest of the story in a moment. But first…
ALEXANDRA DIRUSCIO: Essentially, I started the business out of a need that I discovered myself.
WILLOW: That’s Alexandra DiRuscio. She’s the founder of Wild Woman Box, which is a subscription box for nature lovers and outdoor women. Alexandra says getting outdoors on a regular basis has made her life so much richer.
ALEXANDRA: And when I went looking for a subscription box, like as a monthly treat, all of the outdoor boxes felt too advanced for me.
WILLOW: Alexandra wanted a box that would help make the outdoors accessible to all women — no matter their background or their skill level with outdoor activities.
So she started Wild Woman Box. When you subscribe, you’ll get a box in the mail each month, filled with gear, food, body products, and inspiration to help you get out, get moving, and be YOU.
For 15% off your first box, go to wildwomanbox.com and enter the promo code OUTTHERE at checkout. That’s wildwomanbox.com, promo code OUTTHERE.
And now, back to the story.
(sound of wind)
One day this winter, I picked up Luanne and her dog Chessie to meet a friend for a run. Luanne wasn’t in the greatest mood; she hadn’t run in several days. She had spent a lot of days alone in her apartment.
I noticed a change in her mood the moment we arrived at the trailhead. She met her friend and running guide, Cam, and they got right down to business planning out their run.
LUANNE: Do you want to run out to the cattle guard?
CAM SMITH: Yeah.
(dog barks and Luanne and friend laugh)
CAM: You probably felt it too. It’s really slick from that wind and the sun that we’ve gotten the last few days, now that it’s finally warmed up again.
LUANNE: Uh-huh.
(dog whines)
CAM: So that means the road will feel like this, probably most of the way, but at least it’s like, um…
LUANNE: Is there any ruts?
CAM: I don’t see any. It got plowed like two or three weeks ago the last time it snowed, and then since then it’s been like -20 every morning.
(sound of feet running on the snow and then music begins)
STEPHANIE: For many people, being in the mountains is stunning because of the views. For Luanne, it’s a feeling. As we stood in the valley post-run, I looked around at the large meadows, tall peaks and ridgelines surrounding us on every side. Then I asked Luanne to describe the scene from her perspective.
LUANNE: I can tell we are in wide open space. Which just, I can feel the air moving, you know further distance. I just love wide open space.
STEPHANIE: That day, for a brief moment, running brought her out of isolation. It created a connection.
LUANNE: I’m a different person! I am a totally different person right now. It changes everything, my endorphins are up. It’s not like I’m jacked, I’m just happy to be alive. It’s incredible.
(music slowly fades out)
STEPHANIE: That’s a feeling she often gets from running. And she chases it however she can. She runs races and plans trips to places like Machu Picchu. She even rode her bike across the country.
But she does have to depend on others to do all of this. Luanne can’t just slip on her trail runners and hit the trail on her own whenever she wants.
When Luanne and her seeing-eye dog, Chessie, are familiar with a place, they can run alone – together. But that takes time: they have to frequent the place many times and train Chessie before they are comfortable. Mostly, she relies on a team of people. And that takes a lot of the spontaneity and independence out of running. She jokes that it takes eight people to keep a blind person fit.
LUANNE: You have to be able to call on at least eight different people because people are doing stuff, they’re busy. So you’ve got to have a list of people, “Hey, I want to go running this day”. Well, maybe only one of them can. It’s gotta be like a flow, people get bored, they’ve got things to do. If you got a group that are just kind of flowing in and out, it keeps you fit and keeps them still interested.
(music starts again)
STEPHANIE: Last year, in the midst of the pandemic and shelter in place, I started a weekly newsletter asking people about their experiences in lockdown, in isolation. Luanne quickly responded, and when I read her email an uncomfortable feeling arose in my stomach. Profound isolation was new to me. But for Luanne, it was familiar. I felt ignorant to her experience.
She said that she had been isolated from society for most of her adult life.
She wrote (quote): “I find myself receiving texts and emails from people more often. They have more time, they are trying to avoid isolation, and they are reaching out more. I have been here all along as have most people with disabilities.”
(last few notes and music stops)
Luanne doesn’t feel sorry for herself. But she also will tell you that her life has been different than she imagined it would be. She considers herself independent, but she wonders how she could have been even more independent and adventurous. She has to rely on people in a way she would rather not. She spends a lot of time alone, and that often feels hard.
(optimistic music begins)
But having this time alone, to process things in a different way, has forced her to slow down. In her email, she reflected on this. She wrote (quote): “But I, as always, noticed the ducks returning to the creek a week ago Tuesday. Marking their territory by flying over their creek quacking in the early morning. A ways down is another pair. They come every year and I look forward to it. I love them. They work so hard, so incredibly hard to survive and hatch and raise their young. I cannot see them. I choose to listen for and admire the returning Spring, despite our human chaos.”
WILLOW: That was Stephanie Maltarich. She’s an audio producer living in Gunnison, Colorado, and she was one of Out There’s interns last year.
(music fades out)
Coming up on the next episode of Out There, we’ll talk with filmmaker Devin Fei-Fan Tau about his new film “Who’s On Top”. The documentary is about a group of LGBTQ climbers who set out to summit Mt. Hood. In our interview, we talk about the parallels between climbing a mountain, and coming out, and we’ll look at the value of sharing your fears with the people around you.
DEVIN FEI-FAN TAU: I learned that being vulnerable is actually a strength. And, you know, in the Asian culture, that was very new to me. Still is. Six thousand years of fables and history, there’s no stories about vulnerability and empathy or compassion. It’s always about duty and sacrifice.
(Devin laughs)
WILLOW: That interview is coming up on May 20.
A big thank you to Karl Griena, Joan Amero, Richard Giles, Phil Timm, Doug Frick, Mike Ludders, Tara Joslin, and Deb and Vince Garcia for their financial contributions to Out There.
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(Out There theme music begins)
If you’re new to Out There, check out the “Best of Out There” playlist. This is a collection of some of our favorite episodes of all time — and it’s a great introduction to the range of stories we do on the show. You can find “Best of Out There” on Spotify, and at our website — outtherepodcast.com.
That’s it for this episode. Our strategic advisor is Alex Eggerking. Our audience growth director is Sheeba Joseph. Jessica Taylor is our advertising manager. Cara Schaefer is our print content coordinator. Our interns are Forrest Wood and Cecily Mauran. Our ambassadors are Tiffany Duong, Ashley White, and Stacia Bennet. And our theme music was written by Jared Arnold.
We’ll see you in two weeks.
(theme music ends on a final whistle)
