Fly Rods and Foot Races

PC: Mike McMonagle

Before Caleb Olson was a Western States champion, he was a kid in waders—chasing steelhead through the rivers of the Pacific Northwest, watching his dad float flies through shaded pools, dreaming of the strike. His entry into the outdoors didn’t begin with trail running. It began with fishing.

This one lands close to home. I’ve been taking the same fly fishing trip with the same group of friends every summer for over 20 years. Different rivers, different fish—but the ritual stays the same. And when I’m deep in a long trail block or standing in cold water waiting for a rise, I’m reminded how much these two worlds overlap: patience, presence, and the occasional flash of grace.

In this piece, Caleb traces a thread from his early river days to a recent alpine morning in Little Cottonwood Canyon—running up to Red Pine Lake, catching trout with a collapsible rod, then continuing to summit Pfeifferhorn before clocking into work. It’s not a race report or a training breakdown. It’s a quiet story about continuity, and how reconnecting with old passions keeps the effort whole.