'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??