Humans of HOKA: Tara Warren

Last year, Tara Warren went where few ultrarunners have dared to go. In the summer of 2024, the mom of two completed the Rocky Mountain Slam, a challenge that includes racing four of the toughest 100-mile trail races in four months. When Tara crossed the final finish line of The Bear in Logan, Utah, she became the first woman to accomplish the feat since 2016, the same year her mother died of ALS. For Tara, completing the Slam also meant honoring her mother by fundraising for the ALS Association. In our latest Humans of HOKA film, Tara shares her running journey, the process of completing the Slam, and how her mother continues to inspire her every step of the way.

Let’s start by getting to know you. Who are you, where are you from, and what was life like for you growing up?

I’m Tara, and live with my hubby and two boys in the mountain town of Ogden, Utah. We’re a super active family and love being outside and enjoying the beautiful place we live in. I grew up in Greenville, South Carolina, with my mom and two brothers. We were all super active in various sports throughout our childhood and my mom was our biggest cheerleader. We didn’t have a whole lot, but somehow she kept us all busy, organized and happy despite her working many different odd jobs to keep us going. She taught us how to work hard, balance challenges and not take things for granted.

What was your mom like?

My mom was a free spirit, super chatty with everyone she met. She had an infectious laugh that was super embarrassing for me as a teenager. I could pick her laugh out of a room full of people and she laughed ALL the time. I think her positive attitude and outlook on life was one of the greatest things she left for me to remember her by.

How did she influence you as a person growing up? In what ways does she continue to inspire you today?

She has always encouraged me to have big goals and fight hard to achieve them. She did not have an easy life, but she took every day in stride with positivity and a big smile making it work. Even when we didn’t have money for heat in the winter and had to open up our oven to keep our house warm, she never ever felt sorry for herself or the scenario we were in. She just made things work. When she got sick, she exemplified that same positivity and humble demeanor as ALS continued to take over her body. When her voice stopped working and she had to use her eye and blink to choose letters from a poster board, she was patient, yet determined and craved to be chatty. That was hard to watch, but she oozed strength as the disease spread quickly and took her fast. That strength is inside of me, and I know if she could handle what she did in her last weeks, I can handle anything.

How has running been a part of your story? Tell us about how you developed your love for ultra running. In the beginning, what did ultra running mean to you, and how has your relationship with the sport evolved over time?

Running has been a big part of my story since I was little. I played ball sports and swam competitively. Running was just a torture device that coaches would use as punishment during practices. Once I got past that and realized how much I loved running, it became such a source of recharge and reset in my daily life. I got my first pair of HOKAs for trail running in 2013 and haven’t looked back since.

My husband had already been trail running and racing for a few years. I just ran on the road because I was afraid I would be eaten, taken or get lost. As soon as I worked on getting past those three things, a genuine curiosity developed, and I wanted to go further, climb higher, and experience more of where I lived. The further I ran, the higher I climbed, the stronger I became. Then I started exploring different ultra and trail distances, falling in love with the 100-mile distance. There isn’t a better way to be out in the mountains for longer amounts of time. And with a little strategy, I found myself competitive and getting to see the most amazing places. I tapped into the superpowers that my mom had—determination and grit. I know that’s helped me balance a family life with racing.

Once you decided to race the Rocky Mountain Slam, how did your training and preparation for the series of races impact your mindset and emotional resilience, especially in the context of honoring your mother?

I was pretty injured going into the Rocky Mountain Slam last year. I had just found out that I had Hagland’s deformity in my left ankle and Achilles. It’s been pretty painful, and the only real remedy is surgery. I knew I couldn’t go through that and still get this opportunity to do the slam, especially after qualifying and getting drawn for Hardrock. I didn’t know if that time would ever come around again to be put in this scenario where I could make such a big impact for the ALS community and also make some pretty cool memories during this series. So, with that extra obstacle, I jumped in and went for it by learning so much about myself, how to care for my body, how to train wiser (not necessarily faster), how to efficiently fuel, and more importantly, how to recover. These are four of the hardest 100-mile races out there, all in a little over four months with the last two races only separated by three weeks. Somehow, my body reacted super positively to all of the added stress. The Hagland’s deformity strangely stopped being an issue after the second of the four races. I finished competitively and happy when I crossed the finish line at the last race in the slam, the Bear 100. I learned that our bodies are pretty amazing, that fatigue resistance is an actual real thing that our bodies learn to adapt to as we push them outside of our true comfort zones. And once again, I can easily parallel that to my mom’s final journey, how she pushed herself through limits she had never known as the ALS progressed faster. It was all we could do to know how to take care of her and make her comfortable in the end. But yet she still smiled and shared so much love with us. We are so amazingly resilient.

What were some of the most challenging moments you’ve faced? What kept you going through those tough times, and how did you push through?

The first race I did was the Bighorn 100. I raced on a very sore Achilles and was much slower than I had anticipated. To think that in this year of wanting to accomplish so many things, I would have to maybe give up the feeling of wanting to be competitive, to accept the role of just getting things done. Partway through that race, I honestly didn’t know if I had maybe taken on too much and what would happen if I couldn’t finish. And when the middle of the night delirium of the race was filling my head with doubts, I sat down on a rock in the beautiful starry filled sky, and just cried. I cried because I missed my mom so badly, I cried because I was just angry at my own body for not letting me do what I wanted it to do, and I cried because I didn’t want to let so many people down after getting so excited to do the Rocky Mountain Slam. Once I finished crying, I dusted myself off, and kept going. Towards the end of that race, I accepted that if I was really going to do this, I would have to forget my pride and go all in, knowing how I finished in these races didn’t matter, it would be the fundraising part that would have the most impact. And that’s how I proceeded. Of course, there were many other tough times during the other races, but because of my experience being out in the mountains and in extremely bizarre previous race scenarios, like breaking my femur or getting misdirected and lost for two and a half hours, I was fully confident that I would finish. I just had to keep reminding myself of the end goal and thinking about how much this would mean to so many. In the darkest times, I thought of my mom’s strong spirit. In her last days, I made sure she knew my family and I would be okay with her gone. And I knew I was okay. It was maybe a little crazy, but I was definitely okay.

ALS is a cause that’s deeply personal to you. What do you want people to take away from your journey? In what ways do you envision it inspiring others to get involved or raise awareness?

Call your mom. Don’t get hung up on silly arguments and disagreements with your family. Make memories and share love. In raising awareness and money for the ALS Association, my hope is that families don’t have to lose time with their loved ones once they’re diagnosed. My brothers and I really had no idea where to start or what to do and probably lost a lot of time with her at the beginning just trying to go through the learning curve. I hope that’s easier now for families. Unfortunately, I’m hearing more and more cases out there. As of today, there is still no cure or treatment. I hope that others will continue to fight and keep the conversation going as I feel we are so close to understanding more about a cure.

You shared how your understanding of hope has changed. What advice would you give to someone who is searching for hope in the face of adversity?

When searching for hope in the face of adversity, start by narrowing your focus to the present moment. You don’t have to solve everything at once—just take the next small step. Hope often isn’t loud or grand; its quiet persistence, found in showing up when it’s hard, in choosing connection, and in believing that pain won’t have the final word.

Is there anything else you would like to share?

I just want to share how I don’t want to be put on a pedestal for finishing the Rocky Mountain Slam. I want this to be something that anyone, especially women, can do. You don’t have to be outrageously fast or skilled. You just have to come at it with a determination and desire to get it done. I think we put too many of these feats in a category that may seem impossible for folks to want to do. I think we need to share how accessible and truly possible these endeavors can be. I am 100 percent an example of that and 100 percent my mom’s daughter.