roll with it

My sweetie and I have started a new little tradition (granted, it is only the second year, but I think that counts as a tradition!).  With the right planning and juggling of vacation days, we are able to spend 4-5 days in the woods around the Independence Day holiday, wholly self-sufficient.  I find it really pleasurable (and a bit tortoise-like!) to carry everything needed on my back, stopping to rest when tired, eat when hungry, swim when upon lakes; no need to hurry back to the car for a snack or swimsuit.

 

This year, we loosely plotted our route, considered what to pack, and made a list of foods to prepare.  Unfortunately, we don't go backpacking very often so our preparation isn't super efficient.  He was away in the days leading up to our departure, so we exchanged a flurry of texts, "Do you have the backpacking stove?" and "I'll pick up more fuel" or "I can't find my compass, do you have yours?"   Eventually, we felt we were pretty well prepared and we headed out for our little adventure.

There were a few hiccups, despite our planning.  The sore throat and headache I was trying to ignore turned into a head cold as we reached the woods.  I forgot to pack some of the food.  We had less fuel than we thought we would need.  My recently repaired sleeping pad re-sprung a leak.  A lightning storm greeted us the first morning.

 

But you know, we rolled with it.  And it worked out pretty darn well.  Hiking with a cold didn't turn out to be a problem, I would simply move at a slower pace (and nap on logs!).   The food and fuel was carefully rationed (plus, we convinced the park cafe to sell us some tortillas prior to heading out!).  A combination of seam grip and gorilla tape slowed the leaking air in my sleeping pad.   And after waiting out the short storm, we had a cool morning followed by a series of sunny days.

Regardless of the hiccups, we had a great time.  How could we not, though: walking through the forests, camping at lakes and streams, spending some sweet time both in nature and together.  Next time, however, I will pay a little more attention to that packing list.  And I'm adding decongestant - just in case!

goal of the century

When the new year began, I created a list of goals for 2013;  "A year of big ideas," I called it. This list is not long, but it contains things like "practice Spanish" (which I am not so good at remembering to do!) and "ride a century."  The century addition to the list seemed like a good idea at the time: a goal that was likely challenging, but attainable.  Besides, it is something I have always wanted to do.  The problem with ideas like this is that I find myself afraid to actually do it; one of those ideas that pop around in my head for years, but I have a hard time acting upon.

Why was I so scared?   Perhaps it is a little bit of the unknown:  I am not a 'real' cyclist and 100 miles seemed really daunting.  Maybe it was a bit of the known, too.  I had run marathons and suffered; I figured the century was cycling's version of a marathon, so therefore suffering was likely. 

Early this spring, friends were talking about this beautiful bike ride around Lake Tahoe that they were planning to do (America's Most Beautiful, in fact!) and suggested we join them.  I thought, "yeah, that'd be great" but hemmed and hawwed and was afraid to pull the trigger.   Then one day, my sweetheart sent a text saying "you are signed up for the ride in Tahoe!"

Alright!  I needed someone to do that for me; now I had myself committed.  I certainly couldn't waste his registration money and I wanted to minimize the suffering, so I set out to create a little training schedule.  Knowing next-to-nothing about training on a bike, I loosely modeled my schedule after my marathon training: trying to ride at least a couple of times a week while building up in mileage over the weeks.  Continuing to run and do yoga would certainly help round out the fitness, I hoped.

Able to more-or-less stick to my training plan, I learned about what to eat on long rides (NOT a Snickers bar!) and how to manage hours in the saddle.  The day of the ride arrived quickly and I was nervous about the altitude, the hills, and the adequacy of my training.  Luckily, all of those fears quickly dissolved as I pedaled along with the company of 6 friends (and 20,000 others!).  The miles passed quickly with the help of beautiful scenery, ample rest areas, and the energy of race-day enthusiasm.  Soon, I found myself at lunch with only 30 miles to go and feeling great (granted, I didn't push myself as hard as I would, had I been running)!  My sweetie and I finished the ride feeling like we could both do 20 more miles if we needed.  But I didn't really want to - I was looking forward to that post-ride beer!

Now, 3 days later, I am already finding myself excited for the next one.  Could I possibly turn into a cyclist?!  I'm not sure, but I am definitely adding a tick mark next to "ride a century" on that year-of-big-ideas list!

act like a two-year-old

I had the wonderful opportunity to spend my birthday weekend with my family, which includes my nearly-two-year-old niece.

Perhaps I am feeling extra reflective as I celebrate growing another year older, but I feel there is a lot I can learn from her: She is so very happy; walking about, simply smiling to herself.  Celebrating in accomplishments big and small.  Incredibly curious and observant of all around her.  Taking pleasure in sitting to read.  Finding so much to be incredibly entertaining.  Laughing just to laugh.  Learning so many new things, every day.  Knowing when she is hungry and when she is not - and not eating things that aren't delicious just because they are on her plate (and in fact, not even wanting the "yuckies" on her plate!). 

She inspires me.  I think we could all benefit from "acting like a two-year-old" once in awhile.

Now if you will please excuse me, I'm off to find a puddle to splash in.

part of city living

I am not a city girl.  But for the last 10 years or so, I have spent a lot of time in two major cities: Seattle and San Francisco.

With the woods, mountains and water nearby, I find I am able to manage pretty well, most of the time.  There are some things that really bother me though; I have never liked traffic. But then, who does?!  I just take a deep breath and remind myself it is all a part of living in the city.

This past weekend, in my typical weekend warrior-ing, I went up to Tahoe to ski and hang out with friends.  On my way home, I stopped in Davis (my alma matter!) for a long bike ride on the flat and rural roads.

Post bike ride, I noticed the freeway leaving Davis was backed-up.  To avoid the stop-and-go,  I chose to go the back way, through the rolling green hills, past lakes, and bisecting wine-country.

I was happy: The scenery was beautiful, the sun was shining, I had another nice weekend, and the traffic was moving pretty darn well.  That is, it was moving well until I got near the Golden Gate Bridge, where I found myself suddenly stuck in stop-and-go traffic for over an hour.  Not to worry!  I opened my sunroof, put on a podcast, and took a deep breath.  It is all a part of living in this fine area.

But then, my clutch started to shudder a bit (I was hoping that it wasn't a true shudder, but that I was just getting tired and not operating the clutch as well).  And there was the unmistakable smell of an over-heated clutch.  I hoped it was the Westfalia in front of me, but after a few more moments, it was pretty obvious that the terrible smell was coming from my car.

The next day, with fingers crossed, I called my service agent.  After describing my experience, he had me come right in (questioning the safety of my driving the distance from my office to the garage).

A new clutch, flywheel, some bearings and way too much money later, I am even more frustrated with city traffic.  I suppose this is why people drive automatics in the city - it isn't because of the hills, but because of the traffic.  All I can do though, is take a deep breath and remind myself, this is all a part of living in the city.

once a runner

I ran today.

Ok, so it was not very long, and it was on a treadmill, and it was broken up by walking. But I will take it;  This is the closest I have been to a run since July.

See, running is in my blood.  It's an addiction that started 20 years ago with a painful 1-mile loop around a canyon with my junior high track team.  In the time since, I have rarely taken more than a week off.  Sure, over-use injuries and time commitments have kept me away for short bouts, but this time, it was different.

credit: St. Helens Chronicle

One night last summer, I decided to do a little beach bouldering instead of my standard evening run and ended up pulling a hand-hold down to the crash pads with me.  The remainder of the year has been a haze of squeaky crutches, brightly colored casts, and rehabilitation.  And no running.

At first, this was really tough.  It is very hard to suddenly shift from the routines of a working, running, "strong and independent!" (complete with fist pump) woman, to being weak and dependent, unable to work or run.

But then I started to learn a few things.   I learned how to ask for help.  I learned how to be pretty darned self-sufficient, from crutching down the sidewalk with my giant, laundry-stuffed pack, to navigating the Muni on one foot.   I learned how to be alone with myself.  The biggest thing I learned is this:  I don't have to run every day.  I won't fall over and die without running.  This was a pretty big revelation for me.

credit: Tim Guffin

Even so,  I still consider myself a "runner," and I have used the ability to run as a gauge for my rehabilitation.  When I can run again, free of any limps or hitches, I will be healed.  Of course there have been many forms of healing in this process, and my run today simply signifies the strength I have gained throughout.

the year of big ideas

When the new year rolls around, the term "resolution" is a bit of a turn-off to me.  Something about it makes me think of crowded January gyms and dwindling good intentions.  In recent years, I have preferred to think about my goals for the coming year, as opposed to things I hope to change.  This year, my sweetheart and I have referred to this new year optimism as the "year of big ideas," crediting the inspiration we have gained from many a Dirtbag Diary.
This blog was created out of the resolve to become a better photographer, and today, I come back with similar intentions.  While I do not intend to post a photo every day, I do intend to continue sharing with you some of my everyday observations, both in images and in words. 

 

Happy New Year, Friends.  I look forward to this journey into 2013 with all of you.