Obsession

So, I have this serious problem. Maybe you've already guessed if you've been reading this blog. I'm addicted to the sun. There, I said it.

No, this is not funny, this is truly something I worry about. Case-in-point - when it's sunny outside I physically cannot get any work done. It's nearly impossible for me. This last week, when it's been beautiful outside? I've had to force myself to finish all this work I have and it's been painful, I'll tell you. Even now, I can see the sun is starting to come out and I'm having trouble typing this sentence.

This worries me because I'm starting a new job in a couple weeks and I won't be able to dash outside whenever I see a ray of sunshine or take an hour long break to eat on my porch. Hopefully I won't be near a window and just won't know what time of day it is. Luckily, I'm not the only one that has this problem.

Anyway, this train of thought led me to think about some of my other obsessions, in addition to the outdoors and Steve, so, in no particular order, here they are:

1. Coffee: Don't even try to talk to me unless I've had two cups in the morning. And, by the way, I'm a total coffee snob. Folgers is like a swear word.

2. The color red: I realized this just today when I rode my red bike on an errand, wearing red shoes and carrying a red purse.

3. Bread: I would rather be 500 pounds then be on the Atkins diet. This is the German in me speaking.

4. Journalism: This is not a good time to be obsessed with this profession. It might have been easier to be an actress.

5. Chocolate: This love sort of peaks and wanes, from my hey-days in high school when I could eat an entire pound bar of Trader Joe's chocolate for breakfast. (And I wasn't even fat, I swear)

6. LOST: I'm horribly addicted to this show and it actually bothers me to be this into something on television. Tonight, I'm going to the SIA concert with some girl friends and it actually pains me a bit to be missing it, even though ABC will have it for free on its Web site tomorrow. I can't quite put my finger on what I like so much about it: Is it the stunning plot twists or the hot actors?

7. Scary movies: Why I feel the need to scare the crap out of myself, I don't know. My faves: The Ring, The Shining, Blair Witch Project, The Grudge.

Anyway, I'd love to hear what my loyal five readers are obsessed with. Share with me!

P.S. Would you get into an elevator alone with a strange man holding a drill? I pondered this today as I did this very thing.

Seattle Freeze

Okay, I know this isn't really an outdoor thing, which is my stated focus, but I seriously can't help writing about this, mainly because I think it's probably one of the most random things I've ever heard.

This Saturday, in downtown Seattle, people are going to freeze. Not like of coldness or not like of unfriendliness (which the "Seattle Freeze" is usually a term to describe) but because ... well, I don't know why.

It's being organized by a local group that's imitating Improv Everywhere, whose stated mission is to "cause scenes of chaos and joy in public places." That group pulled a similar stunt in Grand Central Station in New York City and the video is amazing. They've also gotten hundreds of people to get on a subway with no pants on and staged a faux U2 concert on top of a New York building.

I, for one, can't wait to check it out. Anything you can do to screw with people's heads in a good-old-fashioned kind of way sounds great to me.

If you want to freeze, check out this info, but you have to have a Facebook page.

Shirtless in Seattle (I know, I know, I couldn't resist)

If you weren't on Tiger Mountain on Sunday, you totally missed a party. Apparently everyone and their mother, and mother-in-law and sisters and brothers and dogs were up there with us. Really, it was a little bit like spring break on Miami Beach, except Seattle-style. (By this I mean people were drinking out of camelbaks instead of beer bongs and chomping down granola bars instead of, well, beer.)

To get into the spirit, Steve decided to take his shirt off, revealing a wide swath of glowing white flesh that hasn't made a debut since we were in Mexico last October. Of course, he was shivering the entire time (it was, after all, 45 degrees) but being the burly mountain man that he is, he suffered through it, although I don't think his milk bottle color reaped any rewards. I'm sure this was excellent Denali training though - getting used to the cold and all.

And to sum it all up, in the words of one Tiger Mountain partier, who was wearing a microbrew shirt and sporting a sizeable beer gut and probably should have been in Florida: "This sure beats taking down Christmas lights."

The GMAT to Snowshoes is like...

In the name of education, Steve had to sacrifice a perfectly good, nearly-sunny Saturday to spend more than four hours locked up in a room trying to remember calculus and where commas go in a sentence.

So, in his honor, I joined up with Anne, Ira, Nate and Annick to snowshoe up Lake Valhalla just past Stevens Pass. Actually I would have gone anyway, but I occasionally thought of Steve and how much it must suck for him to be suffering through the GMAT when the snowshoe trail was just perfect.

To me, Stevens Pass seems to be a bit of the ugly stepchild to Snoqualmie (mostly, I think, because it's farther away from the city and you have to pass through towns with names like "Startup" and "Goldbar" to get anywhere). But the trail that Anne picked was glorious in every way - just enough snow to make it an effort, few enough people to not drive you crazy and a wide enough trail (well, actually, it was a forest road) so that you could walk next to each other.

We didn't actually make it the roughly three-and-a-half miles to the lake because as we got closer, we realized we were walking under wide slopes that screamed "Avalanche!" from every direction. Or maybe that was just the wind carrying Ira's shouts after he had fallen (more about that below.)

Two things I learned on this trip:

1. A new piece of trail etiquette, which is always good to know: Apparently, Anne tells me that you are not supposed to snowshoe across cross country ski tracks if there is ample room to make two trails. Sort of like bike/walking lanes. Makes sense, although I became so obsessed with making sure I wasn't ruining someone's tracks that for the rest of the day I paid more attention to the ground than the actual scenery. And inevitably, I'm sure I messed up someone's tracks. Sorry!

2. This blog can be a great tool for embarrassing your friends! I won't include the video of Anne trying to play "snowball" with a ski pole here (mostly because it's not very good quality) but I will tell you about how Ira, the gallant skier among us, bit the dust at least three times on his cross-country skis. Of course, we are the sort of friends that whipped out our cameras and took pictures, while laughing, of him trying to get up again instead of actually helping while he was flailing on the ground like a turtle on its back. (Luckily his dog Callie was kind of enough to run to his assistance.)


But friends, don't worry. Tomorrow it's Steve's turn to be embarrassed. Stay tuned for my naked video of him on Tiger Mountain! No, just kidding. Sort of.

P.S. All the photos that look good in this blog were taken by Ira and Anne.

'If you want to find me I'll be out in the sandbox...'

Is February over yet? I mean, seriously. Is there really a worse month than February? Besides maybe January and March and November and possibly June (because in June it should be summer but it's still overcast and yucky.)

Anyway, to escape the doldrums that inevitably occur this time of year, and because, in a sadly ironic twist of fate, there's still too much snow and avalanche danger to do much in the actual mountains, I decided to find some outdoor activities around the Seattle-area that are 1. New to me, which shouldn't be hard since we just moved here a year ago. 2. Don't involve snowshoes and 3. Make me forget that I'm seriously lacking in Vitamin D. I'll continue adding to it as I find more new escapes.

My first stop, as an in-the-closet Californian, was, of course, the beach. I solicited suggestions and here's a great one: Double Bluff beach on Whidbey Island. Admittedly, visiting this extremely dog-friendly beach without a dog (which Steve and I sadly don't have yet) is a bit like being straight at a gay club. But no matter.

The beach has everything else you could possibly want, including wide expanses of sand to walk on, flat skipping stones, enough surf to feel like you're at a beach and not a lake (by they way, a lake is NEVER a beach. I don't know where these people from Michigan come off. Or Seattle for that matter. Lake Washington does NOT have beaches), piles of driftwood in case you just want to build a house and live there and, to make it even better, it's only an hour and a half by the Mukilteo-Clinton ferry from Seattle. Fully worth the drive.

Somehow, being at the beach, even if it's overcast, always makes me forget that it's not sunny. When I was there today, I was actually treated to a sunbreak. But even if that glorious sunbreak hadn't occured, the fact that I was walking on sand with water nearby automatically makes it a happy day and, thus, a sunny day. (Look, it's this kind of logic you have to adopt if you really want to forget about the winter.)


So, grab your mutt - or someone else's - and hit this beach, bro. I mean, totally.

P.S. If you're really feeling out of place for not having a dog, try carrying a leash. The beach is so big people might not notice your dog isn't really running up ahead somewhere.

And one more thing: my apologies for this video. I blame the pesky sun for the discoloration.

Hah!!

See!! I knew that I wasn't just going crazy! Seattle weather is really screwing with my head! Check out this article about how we're all going to die horrible, crippling deaths if we keep living under this giant rain cloud.

And P.S. - Stay tuned for my new series: Outdoor activities to help you forget that you're not getting enough Vitamin D.

Do these down pants make me look gay?

Here is an interesting question: When you're struggling to reach the top of a massive mountain - in this case, Denali - does it really matter what you look like?

This was the dilemma Steve* was facing Saturday after he got back from REI's annual winter sale with a whole Subaru full of loot, including a used woman's sleeping bag that he planned to turn into pants. (In case I haven't mentioned, Steve often makes his own outdoor gear and has so far produced two sleeping bags, two tents, six or seven pairs of outdoor pants, port-a-ledges and a couple of skirts and capris for me, but that's not outdoor gear and only took him about five seconds in comparison).

The used down bag is in great condition and exactly what Steve is looking for, except that it's light blue, the color most associated with newborn babies and trendy girls. To make matters worse, the jacket he plans to wear is fire engine red.

Obviously, on the streets of Seattle, this would be a serious fashion faux pas. But should it make a difference on Denali? Let's take a look at the pros and cons of wearing the pants.

Pros:

• Steve would be warm and thus, happy.
• Steve would be able to sew his own pants, saving about $200 (the used sleeping bag was only $55) if he were to buy them new.
  
• Steve would be able to sew his own pants, which would make him proud and thus, happy.

Cons:

• Steve's Denali pictures would be marred by this fashion misstep; his top half will look appropriately hardcore while his bottom half will look like a little girl.
• Steve will risk the jokes and stares of disdain from his climbing partner, Erin, who will surely let him have it - not to mention any other climbers he happens to meet on the way
• Steve will most definitely be made fun of by me, because how could I possibly resist an opportunity like that?

To wear or not to wear?

*In a previous blog, an inch was erroneously added to Steve's height. He's really only 6'6. The Climber's Wife regrets this error. Mostly because she's embarrassed not to know this after almost 10 years.

Take a hike! (Unless Lost is on)

My friend, Amber, pointed out this NPR article today about how people are spending less time outside, and more specifically at national parks.

At first, I found it deeply disturbing, especially when one of the experts quoted coined a new term for our propensity to spend vast amounts of time sitting on the couch : "The era of mediated nature."

He goes on to say that: "It clearly seems to be the case that we seem to not need to experience the natural world in the ways that we did previously."

Lost (The Best Show on Television, Ever) is a prime example of this, actually. Why go tramp around in a national park when you can watch Sawyer and Kate tramp around in the jungles of Hawaii without leaving your living room? There's definitely a lot less effort and gear involved.

But after I got over the fact that people are more fat and lazy then they used to be, I realized that this article is actually good news. Really good news, in fact. Because if you are active and you love national parks and you do get out a lot, you will see fewer people on the trail. Which actually makes this trend better for the environment, just maybe not so great for national parks funding.

To be honest, I don't want everyone to enjoy the outdoors. Because then there wouldn't really be an outdoors to enjoy.

What do you call two straight days of rain in Seattle? A weekend.

When we moved here, my mom waged a well-fought campaign against it. Selfishly, of course, she wanted us to move to San Diego, to be close to her and the rest of my family.

But her tactics were quite brilliant - she didn't bring up the family angle, but instead chose to focus on the fact that if we moved to the Pacific Northwest, we would never, ever see sunlight again. Not only that, but there would be a very high chance that we would - while suffering a serious Vitamin D defficiency - jump off Seattle's famed suicide bridge.

Ironically, I think the only reason I'm surviving these endless days of gray is to prove my mom wrong. Hey, whatever works, right? But today, a particularly gray and endless sort of day, I was pondering why exactly Seattle is determined to be so rainy and cold ALL THE TIME. Couldn't it take a break already?

Then I came upon this article, which points out that the poor people living in Mobile, Ala. (where I have been and where I can safely say I will never live) actually have it worse than we do. The people of Seattle are apparently just better at handling it and they do it with a very strange sense of pride/stupidness that I still can't figure out.

Take this guy in this article for example. First of all, he's actually written in entire book on the fact that it rains all the time here. That's pretty amazing, considering I was even debating whether it would be worth it to devote an entire blog posting to the subject.

Here's what this guy says: "No true Seattleite owns an umbrella. It's a local badge of pride." He's not making this up. On days that the entire sky seems to be falling on us, I will push through crowds holding my giant, canopy umbrella only to get dozens of angry glares from the "true Seattlites" who are shivering and dripping under the onslaught. But they are proud under their thin black hoodies, dammit!

My problem with the weather, though, isn't so much the rain because it actually doesn't rain that much. It's more that I feel like Seattle weather has a commitment issue. Should it be sunny? No, I don't think so. Should it be rainy? Well, sometimes, I guess. Should it snow? Um, maybe occasionally.

But instead of choosing one option, it's just gray all the time, leaving all of us to wonder why the heck it can't make up its mind.

It's ridiculously hot in here (and so is my gingerbread latte)

I am not one of those yoga types by any stretch of the imagination. (Wow, I seriously didn't mean the pun there, I swear.)

I like high-impact sports and I don't like chanting. Plus, I absolutely refuse to spend $45 on a tank top just because it has a Buddha on it.

The only yoga I can put up with is Bikram's Yoga - the yoga for people that don't like yoga. It's like the Starbucks of the industry because it's the same 26 positions every time in the same 105 degree room with instructors that may change, but who basically say the same New Agey things in every class: "Bikram says 10 seconds in this position now will save you 10 years later on."

(Bikram, by the way, has made billions of dollars from this concept and he's franchised Bikram's across the world, sort of like Howard Shultz has made the latte mainstream.)

Both my mom and my sister are addicted to hot yoga - my mom once went THREE TIMES in one day for a total of almost five hours, counting the relaxation time at the end. My sister just completed two straight months of going to yoga EVERY SINGLE DAY and, by the way, she is a very busy person. (They live in San Diego if this wasn't obvious).

I, on the other hand, can only muster going once a week - I tried going twice in one week once and I almost died. Not really, but, seriously, are you really supposed to sweat that much? Is your body really supposed to twist that way and bend that much and stretch that far?

Lately, I've been wondering if this hot yoga thing is a little bit cultish. Case in point - I've been trying to get Steve to go with me. I say, "Come on, it's so good for you, you'll prevent injuries and it's great training for Denali."

Steve says, "Hell no. It sounds miserable."

And I say, "Well, sometimes you feel faint and nauseous and shaky but that's normal."

And then I think - wait, is that normal? Or is that me subscribing to the cult of Yoga, just like I subscribe to the cult of Starbucks and regularly pay $4.10 for a tall, non-fat, extra-hot gingerbread latte with an extra shot (when they're in season, of course.)

One of my friends recently told me she stopped going to yoga, because, well, it hurt. Like a lot. And not that good kind of hurt, that annoying kind of hurt. It was a hard decision, she said. Because everyone was like, This is so good for you. You HAVE to do it.

That reminds me of something. Oh, yeah - the '80s. Back then, aerobics were all the rage and no one would have dared wear Shambahala gear over a neon leotard. Did yoga even exist in the U.S back then? Or Howard Shultz?

Seriously, though. I think hot yoga can be really good for you, if it's good for you. If you're in pain constantly, well, it's probably not your thing. But if you leave feeling like you've had a full body massage and all your joints have been lubricated like I usually do, then it's probably okay.

And when in doubt, just ask Bikram. I'm sure he'll have some good advice.

Out of our way!

I have a serious pacing problem and it only gets worse on crowded trails, like the Mount Si hike Steve and I did yesterday.

It's my second time up and the first time I was a little surprised by how much it kicked my ass - yes, I know it's 8 miles roundtrip with a 3,500 foot elevation gain, but usually I don't have to stop every five feet to catch my breath like an aging smoker. I'm blaming the eggs benedict I ate for breakfast that day.

Anyway, back to the issue at hand - pacing. Here's the set-up. I'm 5'4 and Steve's 6'7. As you can imagine, his gazelle-like legs allow him to walk far faster than me. But I'm also a runner and I walk pretty fast. So, over the years and the trails, we've managed to set a pace that works for both of us - he walks a bit slower and I practically run down the trail to keep up with him. This balance works great when it's just the two of us, but it gets completely thrown out of whack when anyone else comes with us, or when we're on a popular trail.

Take yesterday, for example. We're flying along, feeling good, ignoring the icy slush that quickly turned to deep snow (although padded deep snow because of the popularity of the trail) and then we come upon .... a hiker. And then another hiker. And then three hikers. And we constantly have to pass them because we're going so fast (and I'm saying this not because I'm stuck up about speed, I swear. If you've ever met Steve, you'll know exactly what I mean.)

Anyway, it's no problem passing people (unless they have trail etiquette problems, more about that later) but then you're forced into keeping your speed. Because if you take a break, even a mere sip of water, they might pass you again. And then you're forced to pass them. And then suddenly you're playing this annoying game of trail leap frog.

So say, to avoid this game, you keep going, even though you're desperate for a snack or some hydration. All of a sudden, the hike turns from fun into a strange race, where no one is admitting they're actually competing, but yet they are. These are the things I actually obsess over while I'm hiking.

That's why trails like Mount Si are great for training (and beautiful, don't get me wrong) but not the most enjoyable, at least for me. What's with all the people??