Sydney’s Personal Food Narrative

Photo - Sydney Burke

Growing up, I played a lot of sports—soccer, basketball, frisbee, pretty much everything. But during COVID, all of that stopped and I was left feeling restless. Luckily, I lived within a mile of some amazing trails in Boulder, Colorado. My mom had been running those trails for 20 years, and while we often went on family hikes, there were times when she would take my sister and I on a "rike" (run-hike), which we found incredibly tough. There was always some kind of bribe or ultimatum to keep us going.

I eventually started heading out on runs by myself and little by little, I started improving. At first, I’d hike up the hills and run the flat sections, but eventually, I could run more of the hills than when I started. Over time, it became a way for me to escape, focus, and find clarity. Running on those trails, I learned the true meaning of personal progress—something that was deeply satisfying and unlike anything I had experienced in other sports. For the next couple of years, I dedicated myself to trail running. Every morning before school, I’d wake up at 6:00 and be out the door by 6:30. I stayed consistent with this routine because no matter how tough or boring school was, I could carry the high from my run throughout the day. As soon as that feeling started to fade, I’d look forward to doing it all over again the next morning.

I never listened to music or needed any distractions—just my legs and my mind. Some days were slow, others fast. There were definitely days I wanted the run to be over, but there was always something I enjoyed, no matter how hard it was. Running brings me into a blissful state like nothing else. When I completely lose track of time, and my thoughts are gone, all I can hear is my breath and my feet on the ground. The Flatirons in Boulder hold a special place in my heart and will always draw me back. There’s something magical about starting on the dirt trail, weaving through the trees, scrambling up the rock, and reaching the peak in such a short time. It’s amazing to feel so connected to the environment, moving through the mountains in such an intimate, natural way.

My family didn’t have a garden growing up, but our neighbors did, and they’d often share their tomatoes and other veggies with us. During my senior fall, they went on a long trip, so I was asked to pick the vegetables when they were ripe. Every morning, after my run, I’d grab a couple of cucumbers, some tomatoes, maybe even some basil before heading inside. I’d make my lunch for the day with the fresh veggies from their garden. This routine grounded me just as much as running did. I was surprised to discover that eating fresh vegetables could bring me such calm and joy because before, I believed only sports could provide that feeling. The connection I feel when my feet hit the ground is just as grounding as when my hands dig into the soil. Whether I’m running through dirt trails or standing still, feeling the earth beneath me always brings a sense of calm and connection. The solid, steady feeling of the ground underfoot reminds me that I’m present, rooted in the moment, and deeply in tune with the environment around me. Both experiences create a calming, centering energy that helps me feel balanced and at peace. From that point on, I became deeply interested in connecting with the food I was eating and building a more meaningful relationship with it.

One day, I stumbled upon a Patagonia short film about an organization called “Farm to Crag.” It was started by professional climber Kate Rutherford who wanted climbers to support the planet. She understood the importance that local food and regenerative agriculture has on the environment, so she created a massive map. This map included locations worldwide, allowing climbers to find local food options wherever they go, from bakeries to farms.

I’m not a climber, and I’m actually pretty afraid of heights, but this organization struck a chord with me. It connected the two things that make the most sense in my life: the outdoors and fresh, local food. Some might think it’s strange that I chose my degree and future based on a short Patagonia film, but for me it makes perfect sense. Fast forward a year, and here I am at Montana State, studying Sustainable Foods. Still, at times I feel a bit distant from the spark that led me here, but luckily, Mary Stein, my professor, has been a great support. One day, she asked me, “Sydney, what do you want to do with your life?”

I answered, “Well Mary, I have no idea, but there’s this cool thing called Farm to Crag.” I told her all about the inspiring professional climber behind it and she pointed out a woman on the website who happened to be a physical therapist in Bozeman. “That’s Esther,” she said. Thanks to Mary, I connected with Esther, and that was just the beginning.

Today, Farm to Crag isn’t just a big map for local food; they also organize gatherings worldwide to celebrate and educate people about local food. Often, these events take place at popular climbing destinations, featuring panel discussions with farmers, ranchers, and other leaders in the food system. My sophomore year, Esther was organizing the first Farm to Crag event in Bozeman, and she invited me to be a part of it. Since then, I've continued working with Farm to Crag and have become more involved in the organization. It’s funny—climbing itself doesn’t really resonate with me, but for some reason, I feel a strong connection to Farm to Crag and everything they’re doing.

Mentorship has been a key factor in shaping not only my approach to running, food and the environment but also how I embrace change and growth. Through the guidance of people like Kate and Esther, I’ve learned to push beyond my limits—not just in sport but in how I contribute to meaningful change. Kate’s commitment to sustainability and local food, especially through initiatives like Farm to Crag, has taught me the power of combining passion with purpose. Esther’s support and wisdom, along with her deep connection to the community, have shown me the importance of staying grounded in both my personal and professional life. Their mentorship has helped me develop the skills to listen, act, and create positive change—not only for myself but for those around me. Their impact reaches far beyond me, inspiring everyone they encounter.