Le Troisième Le Grizz - pourquoi pas?



garden gnomes on the Le Grizz course



For reasons I still don’t completely understand I decided to go ahead and run Le Grizz on Saturday.  This is a 50 mile run along the Hungry Horse Reservoir on rolling road that I completed as my first 50 miler in 2007 and then again ran in 2008.  Although I was already wrecked from the Rim-to-Rim-to-Rim the prior weekend (which I did already wrecked from pacing Jill 48 miles at Bear the weekend before that), I figured I’d see “just how much this thing can blow up!" (to quote Jill who did something similar this weekend).  My initial plan was to crew for Utah visitors Meghan and Bryon -- Meghan is training for her annual MDS adventure and Bryon needed a Western States qualifier -- but since Iris was willing to devote her entire weekend to crewing and making things happen, I figured why not run.  Bryon particularly made it seem like a great idea since he was reportedly untrained, having done nothing but work around the clock like a madman all summer.  Stupidity loves company.  And, rather than get a good night’s sleep and all that, thus increasing the likelihood of a successful day, we enjoyed a pre-race sampling of various Montana beers and whiskey. 



Hungry Horse Reservoir

4:30 a.m. rolled around just as early as it sounds and we headed to the start, which is probably only 10 miles from my house as the crow flies but is a 2 hour drive.  I felt pretty calm about the run since it is incredibly easy to drop out (what with it being on a road and all) and I had no business being there in the first place.  It’s not like I *want* to be injured.  I did, however, want another day of doing nothing but being outside, listening to music and snacking.  It occurred to me that one of the appealing things about ultra running for people like me (who stay within their comfort zone during runs as much as possible rather than pushing to the limits) is that it’s a way to do nothing for many many hours under the guise of doing something.



more views during the race

 Anyhow, despite being pretty tight from my feet through my lower back, I ambled along for close to ten and a half hours and crossed the finish line feeling no worse for the wear. Well, maybe a little but not too bad. Bryon and Meghan both finished somewhere in the mid eight hour range -- Bryon with his flask of whiskey, which reportedly got him through when his legs began protesting. My friend Rebecca finished her first 50 miler as well and seemed pretty cheerful when she crossed the finish line. All in all a success.



Bryon and Meghan at Kintla Lake


The rest of the weekend was incredibly fun but went by too fast. Meghan, Bryon and I went to Polebridge for some pastries and visited Kintla Lake, which I had not yet visited in my nearly six years here. Such a fun weekend.



Meghan has the best smile/laugh

 The gloomy grey sky has settled in here in the Flathead. This time of year it’s entirely possible that the sun won’t make another appearance for a long while, so I’m glad summer ended with a bang and that it’s now time to rest.



Kintla - winter's a comin'



Allison turns 30 in the Grand Canyon - badassery ensues

 My buddy Allison, pictured above, just turned 30 years old this past weekend.  I know, so widdle.  At some point she expressed interest in doing the Grand Canyon rim-to-rim-to-rim as her gift to herself, and naturally I thought it would be a great idea and facilitated this exercise in self-punishment.  Nobutreally the Grand Canyon is a beautiful place but ultimately, in my view, a double crossing is just plain hard. 

 We followed the South Kaibab trail down, which offers exceptional open views, the North Kaibab trail up the other side and the Bright Angel trail back up the south rim.  I like this route and it offers some variety.  My two Garmins recorded different distances and I'm still not clear on total distance but it was somewhere between 45 and 50 miles.  The Grand Canyon is a tricky son-of-a-gun since going down is so easy and pleasant (and fast) but ascending is so slow-going and challenging.  This is particularly true when the temperatures are a little warmer, as they were this past weekend (as compared with Thanksgiving and January, the two times of year I've been there).  This reality (that it's really hard) set in like a baseball bat over the head for Allison as we neared the end of our climb out of canyon on the north rim.

 As we neared the end of our ascent, Allison informed me that "this is the worst thing I've ever done" and "I hate the Grand Canyon."  She told me that she had promised she wouldn't even think it or ask but that she wondered whether there was a shuttle on the north rim that could transport us back to the south rim.  It turned out that there was, but we would have to sleep on the rim and wait until the next morning.  This was not an option as we had nowhere to stay.  So, we sat and I watched as Allison processed the predicament she was in -- namely the reality of having to do the thing she least wanted to do in the whole wide world: descend back into the canyon and double back.  I could completely relate to how she was feeling, so it was a little heartbreaking to witness.  That said, I knew she'd recover and be fine and that she could do it.  She just needed to let her mental game cycle through until she was back from the depths of despair.

 And then, suddenly, she popped up and said "LET'S GO."  Yeah!  After that she didn't complain a peep and kept a solid hiking pace the entire remainder of the day/night.  We watched the sun fade and the light turn "slanty" (to borrow my friend Emily's phrase) until there was no light whatsoever and only a million stars.  Once darkness enveloped our surroundings the scorpions, tarantualas and rattlesnakes came out of their hidey holes which made for some interesting wildlife sightings.

 Carefully avoiding what appears to be an epic attack squirrel problem, we eventually climbed our way out of the south rim.  Despite the long rest on the north rim and essentially hiking the entire thing, we still finished within a few hours of our target finish time but missed the pizza pub and had Combos, chips and beer for dinner before passing out at our hotel.

I think Allison brought in her 30s impressively and showed herself that she is fully capable of doing the seemingly un-doable and digging deep to push on.  There are times we can't imagine anything worse than what lies ahead, yet by taking one step at a time we find ourselves on the other side, a little weary but stronger.

So a Mormon and a half-Jew run through the mountains...

 Jill finished the Bear 100 this past weekend.  There was no doubt in my mind that she would finish and finish strong, but this was something of a test for her.  She timed out last year at Tahoe Rim Trail 100 and while she has only been running for a few years, her immediate ambition was to run 100 miles.  She is just like that.  Her only other "summer" attempt was at TRT, and I think she was left feeling like she had something to prove to herself.  So, this was a pretty big deal but it was obvious to everyone (except for her) that it would be a slam dunk.  This was also the romantic scene of her and her boyfriend Beat's first date, which made it an even more emotionally charged place for her.  I suspect that her lovey-dovey feelings waned as the exhaustion set in.  I didn't ask though.

One reason I knew Jill would be fine is because she comes from a long line of Mormon pioneers and, as we all know, Mormons have endured some pretty substantial hardship (not to mention persecution) throughout their journey.  In fact, Jill is a direct descendant of the founder of Hyrum, Utah, which is in the Cache Valley where Bear 100 is held.  Said founder was one of Bringham Young's right-hand men.  Or something like that.  Perseverance and an ability to endure hardship and suffering is in Jill's blood (though she'd probably want me to note that she's not a practicing LDS peep or even a religious person).  So, it comes as no surprise that she uneventfully made her way 100 miles through the mountains from Logan, UT to Bear Lake, ID.

I paced Jill for 48 miles and it was actually quite enjoyable.  There were multiple moments where I wished I was asleep instead (as a half-Jew my capacity for suffering is less than a Mormon I think, so half the race was about right), but on balance it was a fun and high-quality night/day I wouldn't trade ever for beer and a good night's sleep.  I am incredibly proud of Jill in every way and am glad to have a friend I can point to as far nuttier when people give me a hard time for my strange hobbies.

This weekend Allison and I run in the Grand Canyon and go to Vegas.  After that my training starts for White Mountains 100 in March.  Yee-haw!

Weekend Warrioring



Rhino on top of Six Mile Mountain

 Howdy folks.  I've been enjoying the remainder of summer and have been flitting about as if I live a life of leisure.  Well, some of it (a fair amount of it) has been work travel but I've managed to get in quick visit to Chicago to see my buddies Cheryl and Chris' new baby who is pretty much the cutest little munchkin ever.  I paced my friend Fran at Wasatch 100 (and hung out with Meghan and Bryon in Park City, found some awesome Utah whiskey, just awesome) and will pace Jill at Bear.  Evidently, she hasn't had enough yet this summer.  I have a frenzy of activity coming up, both work (two weeks of depositions out of town - three different towns) and fun (an impending Grand Canyon rim-to-rim followed by Vegas debauchery and I am registered for Le Grizz), which will take me through to mid October at which time I will collapse and try to make use of the shoulder season for regaining some balance.  I've been doing little to nothing during the workweek running-wise or even walking-wise and then hitting it hard on the weekend.  It has been *not* good for my fitness (nor for my physique really).  I am diligently working though and enjoying being busy so I can pretend to be really important.  Only two more weeks of giant veggie boxes through my CSA -- it will be ski season before I know it.  Life is good.


I think Rhino enjoyed the mountain top



My exhausting anti-adrenaline campaign (Mount Reynolds)

If you don't already know, I have a love-hate relationship with heights.  I love them because they're where the mountains are, but I hate them because, well, they're scary.  This fear of heights is part of my ongoing saga with learning to ski and trying really hard to become more proficient at mountaineering.  It is also the thing that keeps me from being able to do all the cool climbs/scrambles/"hikes" off-trail that some of my friends do.  I am actively working on this fear while still recognizing that I basically lack the stomach and skill to do what I can do in my active imagination.  Even without those two things (stomach and skill), there are still attainable climbs in the Park. 

On Sunday my friends Tom (of bear bite fame), Amber and I climbed Mount Reynolds.  Based on my careful study of the bible of climbing in the Park (by J. Gordon Edwards) as well as the newer guide to climbing in the Park (Passmore), I determined that the easiest route up Reynolds was a route I could handle.  Nonetheless I was a tad nervous that it would actually be horrible.  Anticipatory fear is the worst enemy I have in these endeavors.


Danni and Amber near summit (photo by Tom)

Tom is pretty experienced climbing in the Park and thought my planned route might be too tame and suggested a route with significantly more exposure.  I temporarily agreed but nearly started crying out of sheer anticipatory terror.  I heeded my mantra of "be kind to yourself Danni" and insisted we do the "easy" route (Class II(3)). 

Danni, Amber and Tom

The route, once you leave the established trail, is still largely trail.  This is a very popular climb and a "social" trail is well worn nearly the entire way.  Further, there are rock cairns marking the route so it leaves little room for confusion or error.  There were so many people climbing that it would have been difficult to mess up even without the obvious path and cairns.  Don't tell my friend Brad that I didn't knock them all over as he instructed me to do.

photo by Tom

It wasn't easy, despite being easy relative to other climbs in the Park.  I got a tad nervous climbing the "scree slog" -- not rationally but I do not like the feeling of the earth sliding away from me as I try to ascend.  It all comes down to control and it takes some time to realize that you can, actually, control your footing more or less in scree.  It seems a lot like lacking control though and takes some getting used to.  It's not my first time in scree but this was sort of a refresher.

photo by Tom

This hike felt like a bit of a breakthrough since I quickly realized I was totally fine.  When we made it to the summit and I had no moments of terror at all, I was elated.  It is such a liberating feeling to not feel terror on an adventure that could, on the wrong day or with slightly different conditions, send adrenaline pulsing through my veins.  Adrenaline makes me want to vomit.  For real.  I hate it. 

It was smoky, thus it was slightly less than perfect view-wise.  Nonetheless, the views were pretty good.

Amber walks along the ledge

I am pretty darn proud of myself.  Slowly I will conquor my fear and be limited only by a rational evaluation of risk.  I'd rather my brain be in control.  Visceral responses are unsettling.  Again, it comes back to control.  I didn't realize I was such a control freak :-)

Amber and Tom lead the downclimb

It's all worth it to experience these amazing places with amazing friends.

Time to prepare for winter. Yeah, I said that.

I'm definitely not running the Bear 100 or doing any more races in 2012 that involve travel.  It's possible I'll run Le Grizz again for fun, but that depends on various factors.  Anyhow, my goal, odd as it might seem given how active I am (or, rather, appear to be based on my selective social-media sharing), is to just regain basic fitness.


Kent, Amber, me and Rhino in the Jewel Basin last Sunday

 I can hike many miles but I'm not really even in running shape anymore.  I've been really lazy during the work week and haven't been running.  I have, of course, been a glutton (big surprise) and have gained some weight.  I feel like garbage.


Mukwah and Rhino at Wildcat Lake

 Thus, starting yesterday, I'm just returning to running with an eye towards resuming lifting again and being substantially more mindful in my diet (especially, ahem, liquid calories).  All I want really is to return to my fitness level of last winter, which wasn't anything special but was good enough for me.  Allison just posted pictures from last winter on Facebook and the first thing I noticed was how much better I looked than I do now.  Not that's totally about vanity, but maybe some... anyhow, sort of a boring proclamation, especially coming from someone who pretty much always claims this goal, but it's just part of the yearly cycle of me (get fit, get fat, get fit, get fat...).     

When you run out of vacation time half way through the year...

heading up to Hyalite Peak

 You might have read my blog and thought: "does that woman ever go to work?"  Unfortunately, I suspect some of my co-workers ask themselves the same question and that is not really a good thing.  I was recently told, enthusiastically, by an employee that he admired me in particular because I, more than anyone, "work to live" rather than live to work.  The truth is that I am very work-oriented and don't find such comments to be compliments.  It's tells me that maybe I've been having a wee bit too much fun.  Or maybe just too visibly.  In any case my focus for the rest of the year is work.

the peak from the saddle pictured above

 Does that mean I can't have adventures?  OF COURSE NOT.  I had already blocked out the weekend for my annual hiking adventure with Grizzly Glacier Running Club friends, but with Deb breaking her ankle and everyone being insanely busy, the hike dissipated.  Allison was on her way home from Billings to Helena and I was in Bozeman for work, so after she refused to let me flake out and bail on the whole thing, we met up in Bozeman and hiked and camped and were merry.

Allison surveys the smoke

The initial plan was to do the Devil's Backbone course, which is an amazing 50 miler in the Gallatin Range.  I envisioned us doing half of it but we didn't have the vehicle support to shuttle or anything.  Plus, we had dinner with a dear client turned friend Friday night that continued on with olympic watching at the bar, so we got a somewhat late start in any case.  Thus, we started at the Hyalite Creek trailhead late morning with the goal of hiking about 20 miles.

heading out on the Devil's Backbone

We hiked up Hyalite Peak, the out a bit along the Devil's Backbone course before we began fixating on dinner and beer, which prompted a half-mile-early turn around.  We got in 19 miles of relaxed hiking and gorged on sushi before returning to the Hyalite Canyon to camp.  So to summarize, when you travel for work you can make it into a mini-vacation that makes you forget about the working part.  And hanging out with your client friends looks a lot like marketing.  There you go.

134 Miles of Glacier National Park

our route with the circles being where we stayed

I've been procrastinating doing a write up of the 134 mile backpacking trip I took last week since it's pretty difficult to discuss an entire week of awesome in a coherent and interesting manner.  Plus, it was more or less a week of the simple task of walking, eating, setting up camp and breaking down camp.  The  views were beautiful, the company was fabulous and it was everything I hoped for.  I had never done a trip that long (8 days/7 nights) but I feel like I can safely say I really enjoyed being out that long.  (I'm sure it helped that we had pretty good weather).  I may think of other things to say later, but for now I'll do a list of 10 things to tell you about my trip.

Dave, Amber, me and Meghan at Bowman Lake

1.   I wore the same shirt for the entire 8 days.  (Lululemon run swiftly short sleeve).  It held up well and had minimal stench and rinsed well and dried quickly.  I am a huge fan of that shirt.

looking up at Hole in the Wall

2. We spent a lot of time making stupid noises and singing silly songs but I never tired of any of it. I absolutely loved it each time Amber would say "bear bear bear bear" in a funny gruff but sing-songy way. I actually enjoyed every second of being with my friends.

below Stony Indian Pass

3. My pack ended up weighing 33 pounds with 2 L of water and all my food. It became lighter as the trip wore on of course. I used virtually everything that I brought except for some emergency safety stuff, which is fine, so very little seemed like "extra." To save weight in the future I think I'd need a lighter pack (mine was almost 4 pounds though I love it) and to carry less water (which is easy to do in GNP since there is water everywhere).  Speaking of weight, we jokingly called (and will call) our backpacking trip "fat camp."  However, I'm not sure I actually lost any weight.  Sad. :p

Meghan at Elizabeth Lake

4. After not brushing my hair for 8 days it seemed like it almost all fell out in the shower once I was home. I didn't completely realize that, like my dogs, we shed continually. Duh.

Enjoying a bit of a cheat in the middle of backpacking

5. Speaking of dogs, Rhino punctured and discharged and entire canister of bear spray promptly upon my return home. My dad likened it to popping open a bottle of champagne. An expensive one...

Amber and Meghan at Grinnell Lake (I think)

6. Piegan Pass is perhaps my new favorite in the Park. Stunning -- I think going up from the Many Glacier side (aka the "wrong" and "hard" way) is the way to go. Total Sound of Music territory. 

Meghan enjoying another pass success (Piegan Pass)

7. Two of our nights were in developed car camping areas so we got to enjoy a cheat break enjoying meals out and civilization. In the future, I will remember that we don't need that box of wine for camp after the beers with dinner. It makes for a less awesome next day. Just FYI.

Ready to get up Cut Bank Pass, now with Sonya in the mix!

8. It was fun to have the core posse of me, Meghan and Amber but have Dave hike the first few miles with us and my new friend Sonya join for a couple of days. Deb was supposed to meet us one day but unfortunately broke her ankle on the "Broken Leg" trail a few days earlier. Imagine that.

almost up Cut Bank Pass (Sonya, Amber and Meghan)

9.  I thought often of my friend Leslie who just started a thru hike on the Pacific Crest Trail.  I previously thought I wouldn't necessarily enjoy such an endeavor, but after this week and after meeting two CDT thru hikers I am more interested in the possibility.  Perhaps this is just because I'm now back at work and would love to be back out there.

Meghan and Sonya head towards Dawson Pass

10.  For the first time in a decade, I went the whole week (A WHOLE WEEK!!!) without checking email or voicemail or having any electronic connection to the outside world.  I did use a payphone to call Ted to verify pickup plans.  There is no cell access in the Park and perhaps this aspect of it was one of the best.  I tend to get pretty wrapped up in my job (not that my partners likely think so -- I think it seems to them like I do nothing but run and go on vacation) so it was nice to take a true breather.

That was 10 things.  Perhaps there will be more.  Perhaps not.  On the whole, I love backpacking.  To me this was an ideal vacation.  Next time I am making Ted go out with me for a week. 

Wandering with a slingshot

Some girlfriends and I camped in Glacier National Park this weekend with the full intention of doing a respectably challenging hike/climb.  (We camped at Two Medicine and figured we'd climb a peak of our collective choosing depending on what time we woke up).  Rainy conditions, however, promised a lack of views and slippery rock.  None of us were interested in a hike through thick clouds or looked forward to being soaked to the bone.  None of us are particularly delicate or fragile, but the disappointment of another dreary day (we have many around here) deflated all of us and left us feeling pretty ambivalent. 

Goofy girls

One of the waterfalls along the St. Mary's Falls trail (THE St. Mary's Falls?)

So, without any structure or agenda, we instead ate and drank our way through the Park, stopping for a short and busy/popular hike to St. Mary's Falls.  We had pie at the Park Cafe, ate and drank at the Belton Chalet, shot rocks into the middle fork of the Flathead River with a slingshot we picked up en route (we stayed on the non-Park portion of the bridge as slingshots are illegal in National Parks), listened to a terrible reggae band, slept in our cars and began the next day with a swim in a nearby lake (despite initially planning to drive home Saturday night).   

it cleared up that evening and was beautiful

There is something liberating about simply setting out with no plan to do anything other than to  enjoy the day.  We genuinely had ridiculous amounts of fun spending an entire weekend doing things none of us would have ever, in a million years, actually deliberately planned.  In fact, I  would never have planned to set out with no plan.  Perhaps the best adventures are those that wouldn't even sound fun if described ahead of time.  Spontaneity is the rabbit hole leading to unknowable possibilities.  That said, spontaneity is not really in my nature.  Perhaps I should work on this....           





I ran a marathon (the Missoula Marathon)

Since road races are all about stats and splits and such (from my little timing printout):


Time = 4:00:43.2

1st Half = 1:59:06.1

2nd Half = 2:01:37.1

AG Position (35-39) = 25 of 101

Gender Position (F) = 112 of 559

Overall = 382 of 1176

The Missoula Marathon is an excellent little marathon. Runners World magazine deemed it the best marathon in America a few years back I think. It's fairly small still but well organized and logistically uncomplicated. You are bussed to the start in Frenchtown and run back into downtown Missoula. It could be a PR course depending on the person -- there is one somewhat significant hill (for a road marathon) and has 200 feet of net gain (and Missoula is at 3200 feet, which could be enough to mildly impair someone's performance if they live at sea level). There is coffee at the race start and excellent food/drink at the finish (watermelon popsicles and free beer!). Admittedly, I do enjoy road running in addition to trail running, which makes me somewhat unusual among my trail running friends.

This was just a "for fun" race for me. I did San Juan 50 two weeks ago, pulled a hamstring last weekend trying to water ski and neither recovered nor tapered. I was slothful in the last couple of weeks but did 6 hours of ski touring Wednesday (though not at high intensity or anything) and went into the race not sure if I might have to drop out at my friends Kevin and Katie's aid station at mile 11ish with hamstring troubles. I had beer and wine the day/night before. After all, it was a mini-vacation/girls' weekend.

me and Allison, photo courtesy of Allison

I chose to take a lot of Advil during the race rather than drop out -- my hamstring started bothering me at mile 4. I knew this was stupid but sometimes I can't help myself. (My hamstring feels fine now though my lower back feels bruised, hopefully it's not my kidneys, ha ha ha). I had part of a Mimosa (which was totally delicious actually, yay Kevin!) at my friends' aid station and nearly achieved my arbitrary goal of a sub-4 hour finish. I think that if I had skipped the Mimosa I might have finished 44 seconds faster. Of course, if I had run slightly faster I could have achieved it as well... Ultimately, it's a big "who cares" though I'd rather have the "3" than the "4" in my finish time.

I am pleased with my nearly even splits and my finish time considering the heat, my lack of preparation and the fact that I was bloated and un-svelte on race day (to the tune of at least 5-7 pounds above my normal weight this month). I have previously mentioned my desire to do focused marathon training and try to run a PR/sub 3:30 marathon. So, this has me wondering how much work it would take to shave off 30 minutes by December (I think I'd consider CIM). I think if I really focused on the track, pace runs, tempo runs and all that stuff and took good care of myself I'd have a (slim) chance. That said, this was a reminder of how stressful marathons can be. I mean, having to constantly worry about every stupid split and having to keep running the WHOLE TIME! without getting to lollygag, walk, pig out at candy buffet tables and such is sort of less fun than ultras (or my approach to them anyhow). I'm just not sure if I can really rally to do the whole marathon training thing again. Ever. At the same time, it's sort of nice to do races where I can easily finish respectably instead of last, if at all, as in trail ultras (hmmm maybe if I took the same mental approach as I do in marathons I wouldn't be last?).

As of right now I am not signed up for anything at all for the rest of the year and am not sure what I want to do next, if anything, in terms of running. At present I am totally unmotivated to register for anything, therefore I am going to just be like a normal person and hike and enjoy the summer without an eye towards training for anything. (To the extent that I ever really train, ha). I wish I felt the desire to focus on something but nothing interests me right now. Undoubtedly something will catch my eye.

On Wussitude




photo credit -- Amber

 

I imagine I've mentioned this here before, but I have a visceral and definitely irrational (i.e. beyond that which is necessary for self-preservation) fear of heights.  Typically it comes on rather suddenly and involuntarily and makes the world stop for what seems like hours while I assess how I am going to extricate myself from whatever situation I've purposefully gotten myself into.   So, one might wonder, why I am so bound and determined to become more of a mountaineer on and off my skis when virtually every time I set out, no matter how mellow the adventure, I find myself slightly panicked at some point.




photo credit -- Amber

 

Take, for example, July 4, 2012.  Amber and I decided to return to Logan Pass in Glacier National Park for one more day of skiing.  We weren't entirely sure what we would do but climbing Mount Oberlin, the easiest climb in the Park, was on our list.  We started to approach from the saddle between Mount Oberlin and Mount Clements, but realized that the snow conditions weren't quite good enough to use skis and were sketchy enough to not make for a good route without skis.  We didn't really have time to complete our mission but thought we'd get up on the saddle and at least check out the views.  We were boot packing up the snow, which was fine actually, but for whatever reason I decided I would head over to a patch of scree and make my life easier.  The scree was sort of muddy and slick and the skis on my back caused some balance issues (and I was getting a little tired) and I had a freakout moment.  I couldn't go down the scree without falling and the snow close to the scree was thin and slippery -- not conducive to boot packing. 




photo credit - Amber

 

As you can see from this picture, above, the slope isn't actually that steep and you can see visually that I was probably not going to fall and tumble down the scree.  So why did I feel that way?  I am reminded of a hike I did last summer off trail and there's photographic evidence of me clinging to the cliff side while my friend Brad walked right beside me.  Yes people, there was enough room for two across and there I was acting like I was precariously balancing on a tightrope.  I wonder if people like me should, perhaps, stick to the ski slopes and trails.  The impaired ability to rationally assess actual risk is not compatible with this type of adventuring.




that is Amber

 Then I remember the freakout I had the first time I took the chair up Big Mountain to the summit and then my panic descending the easiest downhill route from the summit. Or, it seems that in just 2009 I was on the "magic carpet ride" and working on my pizza v. french fries.  I am now comfortable on the chair and find that route down quite easy and without challenge. I am convinced that experience will allow me to do more and more without getting that icky adrenaline rush and those deer-in-the-headlights moments of "oh no this is scary what am I going to do now?" And to be fair, on Wednesday I was fully aware that the worst case scenario if I slipped on the scree was that I would get a little bloodied on the rocks (or my skis on my pack) but would not likely go very far. So why this caused anxiety I do not know.

I envy people who do not experience this reaction to heights. I wonder how normal or abnormal this is? I wonder if some day I will be able to handle exposure without any adrenaline and with the type of calm confidence some of my friends, like Amber, consistently exhibit. I consistently debate whether I'm just punishing myself by continually putting myself in these situations or whether I am doing myself a favor by increasing my opportunities to go fun cool places in the great outdoors. I also wonder why I am so bent on engaging in this stuff -- though I think the answer is that my friends do it so obviously I want to as well.

If anyone out there is a reformed wuss, I'd love to hear how you have conquered your affliction.