We recently had the chance to connect with Rachel Elberts and have shared our conversation below.
Rachel, so good to connect and we’re excited to share your story and insights with our audience. There’s a ton to learn from your story, but let’s start with a warm up before we get into the heart of the interview. What makes you lose track of time—and find yourself again?
I moonlight as a freelance writer and content creator, and during a recent assignment for the Park City Chamber, I had the opportunity to cover a fairly new local festival—the Park City Song Summit. Having a media pass again tapped into something that had been dormant in me for a while. Years ago, I worked in marketing, events, social media, and media/influencer relations in the outdoor industry, often bouncing around events with a camera in hand. I’d capture moments, connect with people, and share stories in real time. That version of me thrived in the energy, the movement, the joy of documenting an experience as it unfolded.
This weekend reminded me just how deeply in flow I feel when I’m doing that. There’s something magical about being behind the lens, wandering through an event, following the music and the light, and capturing a moment in a way only I see it. It fills me with joy to translate that experience through my perspective and share it with others. It’s not just about content—it’s about connection. About coming back to a part of myself that feels fully alive.
Can you briefly introduce yourself and share what makes you or your brand unique?
Hi, I’m Rachel Elberts—a wellness consultant, casual storyteller, and Stoke Coach based in Park City, Utah. I help people reconnect to movement, nature, and joy—whether that’s through outdoor training sessions, creative wellness programs, or simply sharing the beauty I see in everyday moments.
My background is in events, media, and marketing, and I’ve worked with brands like REI Outessa and the Park City Chamber. These days, I’m blending that experience with a more holistic approach—guiding people through strength training, nature-based mindfulness, and experiences that light them up. I’m also working on creative projects like Wonder Walks (audio meditations for nature lovers) and building my lifestyle brand Have More Fun—a reminder to slow down, move with intention, and enjoy the ride.
Thanks for sharing that. Would love to go back in time and hear about how your past might have impacted who you are today. Who were you before the world told you who you had to be?
I was expressive, curious, and confident in ways that didn’t always fit in. I moved through the world with joy, creativity, and a sense of wonder. I was open, playful, and unafraid to be different—until I started getting labeled weird.
At some point, especially in high school, weird stopped meaning unique and started meaning you are too different. Too much my unique self. And I learned, like so many of us do, that it was safer to shrink, to blend in, to act like I didn’t care as much as I did. I adjusted who I was to be accepted. To avoid the side-eyes. To keep things smooth.
But through deep self-reflection, I’ve started to unravel all of that. I see now that weird is just code for authentic. And when you’re secure in who you are, it can unintentionally make other people uncomfortable. Not because you’re wrong—but because you reflect a part of them they haven’t felt safe enough to express.
The version of me before the world stepped in? She was free. And I’m finding my way back to her—slowly, intentionally, and unapologetically.
What did suffering teach you that success never could?
Suffering taught me how to sit with myself—the real me, underneath the roles, achievements, and expectations. It stripped away the illusion that doing more, proving more, or becoming “better” would make me whole. Success can feel validating, but it’s often external. Suffering forces you inward.
Through the hardest seasons—navigating identity shifts, motherhood, career pivots, and old wounds resurfacing—I learned how to listen deeply, to be with discomfort instead of rushing to fix it. I learned that the parts of me I used to hide—the messy, emotional, “too much” parts—are actually where my strength and magic live.
Suffering also gave me compassion. For myself. For others. For the quiet battles we’re all carrying that no one else can see. It reminded me that growth isn’t linear and that joy and pain often coexist. Without the struggle, I wouldn’t have learned how to come home to myself—or how to create a life that feels aligned, authentic, and alive.
So a lot of these questions go deep, but if you are open to it, we’ve got a few more questions that we’d love to get your take on. What truths are so foundational in your life that you rarely articulate them?
That so much of life comes down to mindset. I know, deep down, that we create our own realities with the thoughts we choose to believe—but living that truth is a constant practice for me. It’s so easy to get caught in negative self-talk or spiral into stories that aren’t actually true. I catch myself there often, and I’m learning how to pause, reframe, and shift my perspective before it pulls me under.
Another foundational truth: so much of who we think we are comes from conditioning—how we were raised, the beliefs we inherited from our parents, and the cultural norms of the time. I’ve realized how much of my identity was shaped by expectations that never fully aligned with who I really am. A lot of my work now is unlearning the patterns that don’t fit, questioning the rules I was taught to follow, and giving myself permission to show up as my authentic self—even if that means rewriting old narratives.
Before we go, we’d love to hear your thoughts on some longer-run, legacy type questions. What is the story you hope people tell about you when you’re gone?
I hope people say that I made them feel alive—that I reminded them to find joy, to chase awe, and to not take life so seriously. That I showed up fully as myself, even when it was messy or imperfect, and gave others permission to do the same.
I hope they remember me as someone who cared deeply—about people, about nature, about creating meaningful experiences. That I was the friend who invited you to dance on the trail, take the long way down the mountain, or pause to notice the way the light hit the trees.
Mostly, I hope the story is that I lived with intention. That I didn’t just move through life checking boxes but leaned into curiosity, connection, and adventure. That I loved big, laughed often, and left people feeling more seen, more inspired, and maybe just a little more free.
Contact Info:
- Website: https://www.stokecoach.com
- Instagram: @stoke_coach
- Linkedin: https://www.linkedin.com/in/rachelfriedman112/
Image Credits
Cat Yu
