Newfoundland/East Coast Trail, Vol. 1

Yes, I know I have more stories to tell about Race Across the West, but this has been a very eventful summer and the stories are happening faster than I can write them. Last week I returned from hiking a good portion of the East Coast Trail in Newfoundland, Canada. The heroes of St. John's, for me, are Alison and Geoff, who let me sleep in their guest quarters and leave my things while I was hiking, Bernadette at the tourism department who worked so hard to make our trip memorable and to keep us on track, and Carolyn Cook (there were many Carolyn's), who worked for the tourism department and also at the Outfitters shop in downtown St. John's.

Laura, Wendy, and I met Carolyn on a bright, windy day. She was leading a special walking tour of the area for Writing Walking Women, though only three of us showed up, which created a friendly, somewhat intimate setting. We walked through The Narrows, a neighborhood in St. John's that follows the steep edge of the harbor. The houses reminded me of the homes I grew up near in coastal Massachusetts, and also of Valparaiso, Chile, which has similarly colorful homes stacked into hillsides overlooking the ocean.

From The Narrows we climbed our way along the coast, at times using a rope to steady ourselves along the very narrow trail that hovered between a wall of rock and the battering sea, ultimately approaching the bottom of Signal Hill. Living in Pittsburgh, I was more impressed by this hill's panoramic vistas and that so many people were out hiking or running the trail and stairs. But it did give me a glimpse into what was in store for us on our own hike, and I was excited. When I first moved to Pittsburgh, E. had a sticker that said I <3 Hills that was produced by BikePGH. It took me years to understand it, but once my fitness was able to propel me up all the hills that I'd previously considered in my way, I really did share in this love of climbing, of feeling my body grind away at gravity, of that feeling of satisfaction in descent, knowing it's the product of a job well done. So in hilly St. John's I fit right in and took to the final stairs like a playground, running up sections and enjoying the changing view as I earned my way to the top.

The stairs at Signal Hill

Laura and Wendy, meanwhile, diligently plucked off each step like a tiny victory, and Laura expressed concern for not having any hills in Toronto on which to truly train for terrain like this. Carolyn, in her unyielding optimism, assured her that the trail was hilly, yes, but we would all be fine, and that it isn't a race so there's no need to go faster than one's comfort level. We will all get there eventually.

That's something very important to remember in a group effort. We are only as fast as our slowest member, and that's a good thing. We may spread out over the course of a few hours to take up a collective long stretch of trail, but in order for the trek to be a success, we must regroup, find each other, check in, and allow others to check in on us.

Carolyn Cook, Laura, and Wendy discussing The Narrows

At nine people (eleven at the very beginning, though two stepped back to pursue their own adventure), this was the largest group in which I'd ever hiked, camped, or traveled, and the varied experience and fitness levels was a little concerning until we got on the trail. During our actual trek down the East Coast Trail, my fellow hikers impressed me by not only surpassing their own self-perceived abilities and stamina, but by being such kind and open-hearted travelers. Our most experienced hiker was also our slowest. As our group spread out in different paces, she typically pulled further back, moving at her own steady, sure-footed pace. We all gathered for snacks, lunch, or to regroup and assess the maps, and it was important for all of us to see everyone in the group accounted for physically. Early in the trip, possibly the second night, we had underestimated the technical level of the trail and gave ourselves too much time to rest. Carolyn Cook met with us to switch out some equipment (the first of two times she would come to our rescue with valuable upgrades), and she encouraged us to keep moving forward, but by that point the day had grown long and we had not yet even hit the most challenging part of the day's hike.

The faster hikers in the group pushed forward to find a camp spot so we would know there was a space for all of us to pitch our tents (or hang a hammock, in my case). It was the right thing to do, but felt awful leaving people so far back without knowing how they were faring on the trail (and really, we knew they were growing tired and frustrated). We found a perfect campsite, but none of us to could rest, knowing people were still out there.

Erika was the furthest behind, and Carolyn McCarthy went back to look for her, using her headlamp as a beacon. She and Erika flashed each other as they got close, and then walked along back to the camp site, using their two headlamps to illuminate the way. There are not photos for this part of the trail, because there's no good spot to stop and take out a camera. We did see a moose during daylight, however. There were a couple spots where I did have the space available to safely take out a camera, but looking in the viewfinder, I realized that no photo would ever do the area justice, and no one would believe how treacherous and breathtaking it was all at once. Similarly, there were no spots to pitch a tent, which is why we pressed on as long as we did. Around 10:30 p.m., Carolyn and Erika returned to camp, and everyone pitched their tents and went to sleep with nary a dinner cooked. After that heartbreaking split, we paid more attention to time, breaks, campsites, and each other.

This photo is from a day or two later, and only begins to capture the epicness

It was an important lesson to learn early in the adventure. Our slowest hiker is not to be fretted over, as she is also our most experienced and can survive anywhere (She had, in fact, seen a few small places to pitch her one-person tent, but pressed on knowing we would be sitting at the campsite worrying where she is and if she'd fallen from the cliff. Erika is a true adventurer and a perfect travel companion.), but as a group we must take everyone's fitness and comfort into consideration. If someone's feet are bothering her or joints are giving way, then we all feel it and must help each other by adjusting pack weight, making stops, assessing ultimate end-goals, etc.

Having a decent base-level of fitness and some experience on the trail (though certainly not the most), some of my role in the group dynamic was as the "vibe coordinator," checking in with people, boosting spirits, and making sure everyone was having a good time and not weighing themselves down with fear. Fear is healthy and an incredibly useful tool for human survival. It can also work against us to keep us from pushing through things that are otherwise manageable. A conversation I had many times with my fellow trekkers went something like this:

Me: How's it going, how do you feel?

Hiker: This is so hard, I don't know if I can keep going.

Me: How are your feet? Your pack?

Hiker: Fine, I feel okay.

Me: Well you've already proven that you're a great hiker, you've come this far and have already covered so much ground, so why wouldn't you be able to keep walking?

And that check-in was usually enough to help someone snap out of the mental trap of thinking of themselves as weak when they were all actually incredibly strong women, or as incapable when they were actually all very capable, or as fearful when they were quite brave. My favorite part of the hike was watching people break down their own barriers and realize the wonderful, strong women they truly were, despite their assertions to the contrary. Every hiker dug deep and always had something more to offer the trail, could always keep going. After crying, after saying "I can't," after pleading she wants to go home, after having lousy camp food, after taping blisters on every part of her feet, after equipment failure of every sort, each woman kept trekking, kept finding reserves of energy, strength, perseverance hidden and lying in wait. I was so thankful to be able to spend time learning true bravery from this group of adventurers.

My favorite quote was from Wendy Goodman: "Honestly, I don't like hiking. I don't like camping. I don't like the outdoors. I don't like sweating. But I do it because there are things out here that can't be experienced from a car window, and it's worth the discomfort to be a part of those things, to put in the work to make it to a place like this that only someone who has had this experience will be able to see."

On the flip, one time at a party for a new local bike shop, I heard the most idiotic quote by some dumb-dumb: "I don't understand the point of travel. If I want to see the Eiffel Tower, I can just look at a picture. Why would I want to put in all the effort to go someplace when I can sit in the comfort of my living room and see it?"

I didn't have a concise counter point at the time, but hiking the East Coast Trail and seeing how much of the best of it was relatively unphotographable due to the angles, lighting, danger, and amount of cliffs in the way, knowing that whatever great shot I managed would still never illicit the overpowering emotion of having hiked to that summit, I realize there really isn't a need to counter that person's perspective. This place isn't for him. It's for people who truly want to be there, whether they can and do, or can't and read stories to use their imaginations to put themselves there. 

 Anyway, I'll have more to write here, and will be writing about the people of St. John's, and the landscape of the East Coast Trail over at my other blog, Roadside Fires Burning, shortly.

REVIEW: Yurbuds Inspire 300 Earbuds (for tiny ears)

I have a medical condition that causes my earbuds to fall apart. Sometimes the speaker detaches from itself, sometimes the chords get all chewed up and I get tiny electric shocks when I run slower than five miles an hour, and sometimes they disintegrate entirely, never to be seen again (or maybe found a couple of months later in a bag I stopped using or tucked in a couch cushion). In truth, I just usually buy crappy headphones that are made for standing at a bus stop or wearing while doing data entry.

My efforts to turn these pitiful listening devices into warriors of sound is in vane; they can't compete with my escape from zombie island, or my efforts to feel the flow of the landscape as I carve the trails  on a berm slide, or one-ear jamming to raging tunes while shredding the pavement on my 150cc scooter, or (more frequently) my six hours of labor riding my bike and walking all over town, taking my headphones on and off to talk with people as I hang posters for work.

Luckily, I had a gift card to REI that I wanted to cash in before heading to Vermont. I was in Massachusetts visiting family and friends for the winter holidays, and took advantage of a massive sale that was going on, which marked a set of $80 Yurbuds down for $20. They didn't have a smaller-ear model of similar value, but for $20, I'd stretch my ears and make them fit!

Sadly, it just doesn't work that way with cartilage. I could get them to sort of pop in, but they'd fall out with too much agitation, such as a light jog, and annoyingly the rubber fitting kept falling off the earbuds. The packaging insists that if they don't fit, the user can take a picture of her or his ear, send it (the photo, not the ear) to Yurbuds, and they will send back the correct rubber fitting size. However, the speakers themselves were so big that I'm not sure that would have made too much of a difference. Also, although they came with multiple sets of rubber fittings, I lost too many during the two months I had these ill-fitting earbuds. I ultimately returned this pair and opted for a version that fit me, even if they were more expensive.

I found the Yurbuds Inspire 300 For Women. At $40, they're a bit pricey (and by that point I'd spent the rest of the gift card on gummy bears...just kidding...kind of.), but overall I'm happy with the investment. There are some negatives, but looking at their website I see the more expensive options have those downsides covered. My REI, however, only had this set available, and anyway I don't know if I'd be willing to spend more money on a set of headphones. So, lets first focus on the things that make these headphones better than any pair I've used before.

• Fit and Comfort

These earbuds fit perfectly. I apparently have standard "woman" sized ears, and these earbuds mold into them easily. There is a method to inserting these, so if you have a difficult time, make sure the rubber fitting hasn't turned around. The rubber fitting has a little nose (see above) which nuzzles up into your ear canal. At first, you'll feel it sort of mushed into your ear, but as you twist the earbud down, you'll feel the slight pop into place as the nose fits into your ear canal and the white plastic part sits into the groove in the lower part of your ear. It's a truly perfect fit, in my opinion.

After hours of wearing other headphones, from over-the-ear to behind-the-ear to earbuds, they all make my ears hurt, start to fall off, lose quality, and become allover unpleasant to wear. These are great all day every day, no matter what I'm doing.

• The Magnet

The smart kiddos at Yurbuds realized that a big bummer about earbuds is that when you take them off (such as to order a coffee or otherwise talk to another human being, as is polite) they just sort of jangle around. Previously, I have woven my chord under my shirt so they can just hang over the neck, but these earbuds have an impressive magnet on the back of each, so you can let them sit neatly behind your neck without them rattling about.

• On/Off Switch

It's a little thing, but makes a big difference in my line of work, when I'm turning my music or audiobook on and off all the time. I wish it worked for volume control and track changing as well, but those are saved for the higher model Inspire 400. Luckily, Suri comes to my rescue regularly, when I need to switch things up. The on/off button also works to answer phone calls and to communicate with Suri on your iPhone, so if you aren't completely tapped of patience it's still a nice resource.

There are a few things I would like to see done differently on these headphones, however, that have nothing to do with volume control and track changing:

• Loose Rubber Fitting

These earbuds, like my Ventures, tend to get a bit greasy after a long day of doing my thang, and the earbuds get loose and fall out. I've only lost one, and just like the Ventures they come with an extra set, so it wasn't catastrophic, but I feel that a little o-ring, similar to those that come with gauged ear plugs, would do the job well and for not much money.

• Chord Clip

The Ventures had this neat little clip on the chord, to help keep the cord attached to a collar, bag strap, or even itself. It's a nice little edition that kept the chord from flopping all over the place and potentially getting snagged, and these could benefit from that addition as well.

REVIEW: GoGo Gear Kevlar Leggings

The timing of GoGo Gear's email advertising their new kevlar leggings with removable knee pads was just about perfect. I had been taking my scooter back and forth across the bridge to Millvale, where Ed at Goose Farm Motorcycles helped me put on my license plate, then Geoff at Slagheap Cycles in the same space helped me attach my trunk because I was having compatibility issues. In mid-late November, crossing a river at night is a cold journey, and wearing regular tights under my jeans just wasn't cutting it. After a particularly cold evening, I arrived at the coffee shop where Evan worked to soak up some warm beverage as he prepared to lock the doors. I checked my email and saw these leggings. They seemed perfect, but with a price point well above my budget at the time, having not quite shaken the shock of quitting my job.

A couple weeks later, I was awoken by another email from GoGo Gear, this time a more personal email sent to previous shoppers (my parents bought me a great winter riding coat from them a couple years ago). It was inviting people who essentially name a price if we had an interest in the leggings but couldn't afford the MSRP, because they were trying to reach a price point for their own ordering. I jumped at the opportunity, talked with Arlene, the owner, and a couple weeks later, was ecstatic when I took them out of the UPS box.

I was about to embark on my monthlong adventure at the Vermont Studio Center for my residency, which was made available through a Ralph Waldo Emerson Fellowship for Nature and Environmental Writing (Did you hear that? Don't worry, it was just me, popping my collar). I signed up for a January residency because Pittsburgh winters are exceptionally depressing due to the grayness and rain, but I'm no fool. I knew it was going to be colder up there and wanted something I could wear on long, snowy hikes and snowshoeing adventures. Turns out, it got as low as -50 ºF at night. Dang. Luckily, I thought ahead and got these leggings, because they sure came in handy.

I also wanted to take them for a mountain bike ride, because they have great knee protectors. Unfortunately, there wasn't a time when the trails were in good enough shape to ride that it was also cold enough to warrant this amount of warmth, so they haven't hit the trails yet. I have a feeling this pants will last a long time, though, so there's always next season.

Here are some highlights of these awesome pants:

• They look and fit a lot like "skinny jeans" with a denim-like kevlar weave and jean-like pockets. Even though they are technically leggings, I think these fall into the category of "acceptable to wear in public" if you're the type to care about that sort of thing. 

• They look good. I know I mentioned looks earlier, and I'm not vain or nuthin' but these really went above my expectation. For how thick they are, they still have a very slim look and feel. Like other GoGo Gear products, these leggings are something that can be worn for a ride and then partied in without feeling like you're wearing motorcycle gear (as long as you remove the knee pads).

• They are comfortable. The inside is fleece-lined, and these are cozy enough to wear all day outside. Even with the kevlar (and even with the kneepad inserts), the leggings are soft rather than stiff.

• They are super warm. I took these out for head-clearing snowshoe adventures, following the tracks of animals off trail and deep into the woods, exploring for hours in the deep snow of northern Vermont. If anything, I got a bit overheated with all my warm gear, and probably broke a sweat in these puppies (but the sweat didn't freeze, which is an added bonus).

• They are water resistant. I fell in the snow quite a few times, and it didn't really affect me at all. I was also caught in a few drizzles (not hardcore storms, thankfully) and also stayed dry. I don't know how well they would do in a downpour, and would prefer not to test them out. The first week I had a scooter, I got caught in a storm and had to ride through a flood because there was no place to turn off. It sucked.

• They are wind-resistent. That unfortunate chill crossing the river at night in the winter? Not a problem with these pants. It's so nice to not be thinking about temperature and body functioning while riding a scooter or motorcycle. I never once wished I had one of those European lap blankets all those Brits use (though I still want one of those).

• They have removable knee pads. There's a time and a place for safety, and as the proud owner of two achy knees, I can tell you that a place for safety is during a time when you can fall at a high velocity onto these precious discs that are basically just calcified jellyfish that we beat up on a lot. So I appreciate having these pads for longer rides where safety is a larger concern (I know, I know, most accidents happen within three miles of home but I live on the edge, you know?). I also appreciate that I can take them out and not feel like I'm wearing hockey equipment all day.

• They feel legitimately safe. In addition to the knee pads, I think it's worth mentioning that the kevlar fabric, however soft and comfortable, and regardless of the additional benefits like wind- and water-resistence, also feels incredibly durable. I have yet to have a spill on my bike, but I have been in two other motorcycle incidences that left me with serious burns and a deep wound the first time, and a hematoma the second time. If I had these pants on, I might have been in much better shape.

But like everything in life, there are a few downsides:

• They tended to slip a bit while hiking. I tried to go trail running in the snow with them and it wasn't ideal. I got diaper butt pretty hardcore, with a lot of sagging. If these came with a belt to keep the top up, that would be idea. This should be taken very much in stride, since these are motorcycle pants and I was really putting them through tests they hadn't studied for.

• Some people have had problems with getting them on. I honestly don't understand that, but they received enough emails to put together a handy video to show people how to do it correctly. Maybe it's just because I have muscly calves, or big swollen knees? I don't know. I thought putting on pants was something we'd all figured out by now, but I'm glad they took it in stride and made a helpful video for people who were having problems. 

• The knee velcro is a little scratchy before you get the hang of putting them on. This is also very minor, because after you do it once in a way that's uncomfortable, it's very easy to adjust your methods to not get caught on a velcro hook.

And that's it for the negatives, really. I wish they had belt loops, and some people had a problem getting them on. I ordered a size down because I got my coat a size bigger, thinking I should size up for wearing thick hoodies/sweaters underneath, and the coat is way too big (But I still love it). Sizing down was a smart choice for me. They also come in a wide range of sizes, so whether you're a size 2 or a size 22, these leggings could be a great option for you.

The weather went from 31º and raining to 88º literally overnight, but once it gets cool again I'm excited to take these out for a long ride through the hilly country roads outside Pittsburgh or wherever the road takes me.

The next item up for review are the "regular" (i.e. men's) and women's Yurbuds headphones. Yippie!

REVIEW: Nathan's Zephyr Fire 100 hand Torch (that's a flashlight to us Americans)

I've been collecting a lot of products lately during and in preparation for my travels to Vermont, Colorado, Race Across the West, and Newfoundland's East Coast Trail. I've been testing for the past few months or so, and thought you'd like a peak at what I've been into and why. First on the list is:

Zephyr Fire 100 "hand torch" by Nathan.

The first time I heard the term "torch" used to imply "flashlight" was, I believe, in The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe, an incredible book that celebrates curiosity, the spirit of adventure, and the power of goodness (that's what I got out of it, anyway). I like that it's such an archaic, almost lazy term, since really, it is basically just an electric version of what people used to burn witches, hunt down Frankenstein's monster, and make sure they don't fall down the stairs while walking to the bathroom at night. I've done all those things with this modern day fire-on-a-stick, and there are noticeable upgrades since the days of Mary Shelley. Besides not burning anything down, whether accidental or not, here are some real bright sides:

• It's USB-charged. Not only can you charge it by your computer, you can also use any of the newer wall chargers that have a removable chord (just like most cell phones). This is also great if you are backpacking and traveling with a BioLite Camp Stove (review of that forthcoming!).

• The hand harness is really comfortable and easy to use even with bulky winter gloves or mittens. It's also adjustable for left or right handed use. I additionally appreciate the hand harness because when I'm not using the flashlight, I can wear it on my wrist so my hand is free without having to put down (i.e. lose) the flashlight in the dark.

• The rear light. It's such a simple addition to a classic flashlight but it means the world to people out at night in an area with other people and/or cars. It's very visible and I felt safe the whole time using it. This was obviously designed for runners, but the benefits are much more broad.

• The combination strobe light/emergency siren. They aren't the same button, but in my mind they serve the same purpose because I can't imagine running with a strobe light guiding my way, especially since the battery life of these things seems to be exceptionally long. If I were to fall off a cliff while hiking or trail running, the siren would (hopefully) alert people that there's someone in danger and the flashing light would help locate me visibly.

• The downward angle of the flashlight. It pairs well with the hands-free nature of the hand harness, as the flashlight is automatically angled at where I'm looking, without having to keep my hand in a certain position. 

There are a few negatives, however, though they certainly haven't turned me away from this great device:

• I wish it was a bit brighter. At 108 lumens, hiking in the woods with no moonlight still feels a bit dim. If my situation were a bit different, I may consider instead investing in the 359-lumen Zephyr 300. 

• The light and siren buttons are right on top of each other. I've hit the siren a few times in an effort to turn off the light, and it takes 2-3 seconds to turn anything on or off on this flashlight, so in an effort to be stealthy I made quite a ruckus.

• The rear light, while I love it, is really bright. If there's anyone running or hiking behind me, they are blinded by the red blinking orb bouncing three feet off the ground, which is neither safe nor enjoyable. I wish there was a way to turn off just the rear light.

All in all, I love this "torch" and it has proven useful on hikes, runs, dog walks, and even snow shoeing (though it took a bit of adjusting to figure out a good placement with the walking poles). I'm very happy with it and think it will last me a long time and many adventures.

Next on the mat is GoGo Gear's Kevlar Leggings.

The day I went outside for the sake of breathing (banana pancakes recipe)

It's been hard to get back into the groove of Pittsburgh living since my return at the beginning of the month. The over-stimulation of high speed internet, the constant noise and frustration of city life and a home under the highway, the smells and struggles of living in a working-poor neighborhood where the street never gets plowed because it will just pull up more chunks of concrete and cobblestone, the lack of structure, the demand for structure. Plus, my office chair just isn't as comfortable as the one in my old studio at the Vermont Studio Center (poor me, I know). There have been so many positive changes that have happened not only since this past summer, but in the two weeks since I've been home, but it can be difficult to keep that all in perspective, to prioritize time affectively, and to stay focused on the real goals in life.

Today, however, the sun was out. Those who live in the Southwest may not take their sunshine for granted, but I sometimes feel that those in New England do. It may be more grey there in the winter than in the summer, but it's a beautiful part of the world, and the sun is out more often than not, that cold blue winter sky that reminds you you're on Earth, that feels so warm in contrast to the frosty snap of wind on your nose. The sun is a brief relieve that we in Pittsburgh so rarely get. Today, however, was cold enough to bring out the sun, and I was sure to make the most of it.

E. and I went for a cross-country ski adventure in Frick Park, taking advantage of the small amount of snow we received the past two days. I would never tell my poor Bostonian friends and family (except here, publicly, where I can't be assaulted), but I am a bit jealous of all their snow. The grass is always whiter, I know, and I really do feel bad that they are trapped with inoperable public transit and limitless snowbanks that make driving perilous. That said, I will probably never get to use my snowshoes in the Pittsburgh area, and the inch of snow we have here now practically peeled off the grass with my skis like lint from a sweater with masking tape. On the hiking trails was a bit easier, since a lot of the snow was packed down. I had picked up my skis, boots, and poles last year at REI's winter garage sale for about $45 total, after I dislocated my shoulder and needed something active to do besides boxing or cycling. They were pretty much new, so they are a lot faster than E.'s old skis he bought off Craigslist. I found myself slowing down a lot (or attempting to) so that I wouldn't run him over, or being a bit intimidated by the changing elevation that's unavoidable in this area. Harder than that was going up, sliding back if my ski remained on the ground for a second longer than necessary as I waddled uphill. I only fell once, as I attempted to slow down and ran over a stick.

 

But just skiing wasn't enough on a day as refreshing as this. I came home and my poor dog was so lonesome, knowing we had spent a few hours outside without him. He hates the cold, but when the sun is out, everything looks so warm, and the heat from the sun's reflection off the snow comes through the window and I know he thinks it's finally nice out again. So I bundled him in a fleece and we headed into Schenley Park, the woods behind my house. It was such a beautiful day, and we ran and slid through our private trail we'd dug, up to the top of the hill. His paws were cold and he insisted on walking on the sidewalk once we reached the top. Within moments, he was stalling and holding up his paws in pain, the salt having burned wounds into his cold pads. I brushed them off and eventually coerced him to walk with me in the snow, and we went further back into the woods, where the trails were padded with snow and we could run freely (on our leash, of course— we're both prone to running away). It was nice to be out of the house and enjoying the outdoors. I think it's something that's been especially bothersome for me as I sink back into Pittsburgh life. I ran the stairs last night, and have been going to kickboxing, but it's not quite the same as a few hours outside in the fresh air and the tranquility of trees. I've found myself no longer dreaming of Santa Fe every night, but often dreaming of Johnson, VT as well. These are sweet reliefs from the sadder dreams, but when I wake up, I'm filled with a longing I can't shake, for a landscape that brought me such quietude I can't seem to muster in my own environment here.

No blog post is truly complete without a recipe, of course, so here's one which is almost exactly like the one from Vega's site. The only changes is I use All-In-One and they use protein powder, and they use coconut oil and I use Earth Balance. Also, I'm heavy on the cinnamon because it's delicious and really good for you. Among other things, it helps break down sugars and combat inflammation. 

Vegan Banana Boost Pancakes

• 1 large banana, mashed
• 1 tsp vanilla extract
• 1 cup milk of choice (I use unsweetened vanilla almond milk)
• 1 cup gluten-free all-purpose flour (I like Mama's almond flour mix)
• 1 serving Vega One Nutritional Shake Vanilla Chai
• 1 tsp baking powder
• 1 tsp baking soda
• 1/2 tsp cinnamon
• 1 Tbsp Earth Balance (or oil of choice)

Mix together mashed banana, vanilla, and milk in small bowl and set aside. In large bowl, mix flour, shake mix, baking powder, baking soda, and cinnamon. Add banana mixture slowly, and mix until just blended. Add more milk as needed. I added about 1/8 cup milk at the beginning of making pancakes, and as the batter sat as I made the first round, the batter thickened and I added some water. Heat pan on medium heat, add oil to pan, and cook those babies up, flipping once the glorious pancake bubbles appear.

These cakes are sweet enough on their own, from the banana and the stevia in the shake mix, but your topping of choice would only sweeten the deal even more. This recipe fed me well for two mornings.

Almost time to start moving again

So this month has been a little, umm, turbulent for my workouts (but great for my writing and work). Luckily, I have a few things on the horizon to motivate me:

• my friend Suzanne invited me to join her for the month of February 90/10 fitness and nutrition challenge. I'm excited to get back into the swing and get a little non-detox detox action. Not only does this include nutritional counseling, but E bought a bunch of Vega One at Marshall's for super cheap AND the February challenge includes some quality time with my boy Tony Horton!
• I'm really looking forward to kickboxing again! Since writing my article on non-gym fitness and nutrition services in Pittsburgh for Pop City, I've been really missing my butt-kicking women and men of ILKB. I still have 15 or so classes left on my card so I'll be able to kick it into high gear (get it?) when I get home, as my schedule allows.
• I finally got my fitness itinerary for the first few months of training for my 80 mile Newfoundland hike. 

Since I'm preparing for a specific goal, as opposed to just working out for the love and fun of it, it will be easier to maintain a structure. However, the structure is pretty easy. So far it's very loose, and I first need to assess my fitness (which, despite my complaining and the pounds I inevitably packed on this month, is pretty good). Then, it's basically just working out three days a week that includes cardio, strength, and stretching. The fitness team also shared this helpful link from REI, specifically for training for a backpacking trip. I'm excited to have a real excuse to run the stairs besides just being kind of a maniac. I don't know if I'm really looking forward to running them with a loaded pack, but hey, baby steps. 

Cabin Fever

Though I've been able to get out and moving these past few weeks in Vermont, I admit I am starting to feel a little bit of cabin fever. I typically have been going for a walk in the morning in between breakfast and lunch, and then working from lunch until about midnight, stopping for dinner and maybe a quick drink with friends. But it's been not only cold, but icy, and I promised myself I wouldn't slip on the ice while I'm here because, well, I hate slipping on ice. Maybe it's the added pain of my bruised ego, but falling on the ice is often more painful than just tripping somewhere. On the positive, I've also had a hard time getting away from my work, and have been writing my little heart out. By the time I'm at a stopping point, it's not a good time to exercise.

Also, I'm lazy, which is something new about myself that I've learned here in Vermont. Thanks, New England.

I have been snowshoeing, though, and taking walks along the river— often breaking trail to catch some gorgeous views and off the beaten path.

It's been nice being away from the noise and clutter of city life, and I'm interested to see how I adapt to being around so many people and noises again. I've been writing a lot about New Mexico, and it seems increasingly where I need to be in the world. All in due time, I suppose. In the meantime, I need more exercises I can do in my studio that are quiet, use no equipment, and require no amount of real space. I found this video from Fitness Blender, who have a number of other great low-impact workouts but this is a great short one to keep my blood flowing:

My SoleusGo is constantly reminding me to MOVE when I'm sitting at my desk plugging away, so these short little videos and workouts such as the one I posted earlier in my blog are great to get the butt out of the seat, if only for a few minutes.

Maybe today will be the day I go for a run? It's supposed to get as warm as 29 degrees today, which feels steamy after the -20 nights and 1 degree mornings to which I've grown accustomed.

If you live in a cold climate year-round, what do you do to stay active and happy?

Finding the Trail or Losing My Way

After all the wind and cold, today's sunny 16 degrees felt like a beach day, so I struck out in search of a hike. It was a great time to test the GoGo Gear kevlar leggings in the deep snow, as well as put my YakTrax to good use. I was a bit concerned about the cold, because 16 degrees is still quite cold, but was confident in the pants and boots (Sorel's Joan of Arctic aka "boots with the fur"). I was surprised at how warm my upper body was with just a base layer and faithful North Face coat.

Anyway, no product reviews just yet, but will say that so far everything worked great, even the YakTrax which model I have is really just for walking on poorly plowed streets. I hiked up some very steep "trails" and had zero problems once I put on my YakTrax, and it only popped off once, as I was hurdling myself off fallen trees and through deep trenches of snow to attempt some photos of cool looking rocks. Besides that, they stayed on great and held excellent traction on ice, packed, and deep snow.

Sore from the previous indoor workout, but feeling a bit disgusted at having eaten and drank so much last night at Shabbat, dinner (which had ice cream and brownies for dessert, the jerks), and the inevitable party that happened to make use of all the extra Shabbat wine, I was interested in a long, arduous walk in the woods, and went searching for one, which was harder than I expected. For a while, I walked pathless in the woods, following the trails of animals and working towards whatever looked the most promising for a view.

I walked up and down a number of hills, eventually coming to a wide and obvious path with smaller trails leading off from it. I meandered in and out of the various smaller trails, working my way up the long face of the mountain. It was a beautiful day that brought out all I love about winter— how everything is muted, insulated by the snow, even the cold is more mild once the snow comes. Even on somewhat cloudy days, the sun cuts through and is instantly so brilliant, reflecting off all the snow and ice, and the thin wintry air.

It's hard to explain to people why I like winter but I hate it in Pittsburgh, but I think it's the mildness that aids in the seasonal depression. There's little snow and zero sun, and the cold isn't championed by drastic conditions or impressive scenery. The air isn't thin so much as wispy, like a balding head. While northern Vermont is definitely colder, it's almost Shakespearean in its drama. Pittsburgh, by contrast could only wish to be Dickensy, droning on forever as if getting paid per cloudless day.

Plus, Vermont has teeth:

Settling In

After a few days of relative stillness (besides a short and incredibly cold walk and some morning/evening stretches), I was aching for movement. I had set my alarm to get up in time to make it to breakfast, but unfortunately I've lived in cities and under a highway far too long for the gentle sound affects of wind chimes and a slow-rolling tide to do anything but put me into a deeper sleep. I should have known, since it's the same sounds I use to fall asleep in the first place, but I didn't want to use a harsh sound with such thin walls, not knowing the sleeping patterns of my fellow residents.

Having missed morning meditation and breakfast, and having written four or five poems last night, I decided to spend the morning with myself, relaxing and enjoying the solitude. I took a shower and, after fumbling through a not very intuitive yoga app, ditched the prompts and pushed myself through vinyasa, followed by mild twist, core, and inversions. I drank some Vega Protein & Greens and read from a book I borrowed from the extensive library here, and by lunch time I was anxious to move again. My brain was wandering and unable to focus. The lines of poems were coming, slowly, but they were muddled and disjointed. I needed to clear my head.

I grabbed a map packet, which didn't offer much guidance, and took to the streets to see Johnson, Vermont, and empty my head of all the presumptions its been building and carrying like wet logs for a fire. Pavement turned to ice and back, then dirt road to ice and back, as the hills climbed and scenery became more epic and the road a bit more difficult. I met a woman who came from her long driveway in a pickup who announced she was just picking up her mail, a courtesy, and later pulled up and asked if I would like a ride. I kept on walking and after a few more turns in the road, headed back towards campus. The sun was starting to set, the wind to pick up, and the snow was certainly falling. I was surprisingly warm but my legs, which don't typically feel temperature, started to feel strange again the fabric of the pants I chose. Sure, I relieved myself in the shaded cove behind a snow bank, but I was careful not to get any snow on me. I felt my legs, which were dry, and kept walking. By now, I had found myself in someone's back yard, following a road that turned into a driveway, and was stumbling in the snow down a steep hill into a graveyard.

The graveyard was surprisingly modern, with gravestones of people who had lived long and hopefully fulfilling lives, space on the gravestones for their loved ones, some whose names were already, ahem, cryptically engraved. The snow, merely dusted over from a few days ago, was frozen with the tracks of large animals, possible a snowshoe hare and a moose, as well as large dog tracks, human tracks, cross country skis, and bicycle tires.

I had long since turned off my headphones, enjoying the paced breaks in silence caused by my footsteps and nylon-covered arms swinging with my gait. As I stepped from the graveyard, I heard the first familiar sounds of society: what appeared to be a woman pleading for her safety. Next, of course, came the cars and trucks rushing by on the road, perhaps anxious to get home before the storm picked up. I damned them to stop, but by the time the last of them did, I couldn't hear the voice any longer to determine its source or its intent. The wind picked up, the cars came again, and as I stepped onto the main road, I noticed the ringing in my ears, which had somehow disappeared for that brief hour and a half frozen chunk of time. What could I do, anyway?

Clearing the Air (Between Our Ears)

We all know it: holidays are stressful. There’s no one in their good, right mind who approaches holidays with a completely open heart who then leaves the holidays with that same good will and lack of judgment or feeling of having been judged. Family is important. It reminds us who we are, who and where we come from, who we strive to be and, more importantly, not to be.

Even the best families can be taxing, though, and it's important to respect that stress and address it before it manifests into anger or unhealthy habits. Whenever I visit with my family, I rediscover my love of running. My folks live near Wompatuck State Park, and just an hour or two in those woods clears my head and ready’s me for the continued discussions in which I don’t necessarily want to participate. Yesterday, after a hard day of writing and research, I laced up my trail running shoes, borrowed my dad’s car (hey, I'm still his daughter), and headed to the woods.

I wish I found solace here years ago, growing up the black sheep of the town, nevermind my family, and needing a place to go where no one commented on the color of my hair which was everchanging or the contents of my poetry which is still evolving. Instead I hid under furniture and later built an old 3-speed English cruiser I picked up at a yard sale and rode it into the city. That became my meditative state, listening to the cars pass so swiftly on my left, maneuvering the cold Massachusetts air and my brittle artist heart. Had I found the woods, the journey to quiet would have been much shorter, I’m sure, but at least I still got some fresh air and some good stories out of it. I'd likely be a different person, maybe a bit more content to find stillness and hold it. I like who I am, I appreciate the attention to my surroundings that was fostered by riding the back roads through Quincy and Dorchester, but as an adult, the woods settle my soul like a warm tea. The ringing in my ears dims, if only a little, and I can hear my own breath puffing through the beats of my feet in time to the music in my headphones.

I dropped off my husband at the airport the day before, and as a consolation prize, bought myself some new headphones, the Yurbuds VentureTalk. The earbuds are comfortable, the cords don’t get tangled, and the buds have magnets on the back to easily control them when they aren’t in my ears. I didn’t receive a call to test the microphone and volume, but the sound quality was perfect for everything from Mortals to MIA. What’s best, I could still hear my footsteps as I pounded pavement and crunched through frosted leaves and puddles. There was no one in the woods, as the sun was setting and the gates were closed to cars, except for one lone mountain biker heading back to his car and an older couple sitting on a bench by a creek. It was nice to have the road to myself, to not worry too much about bikes or dogs blowing through on the trails, to focus and unfocus my eyes like apertures, to try to get myself lost and found, lost and found, weaving on and off the trails.

My sister recently told me about her time of meditation, the drive home from church on Sundays. She takes the long way as her daughters sleep, following the quiet roads that hug the shoreline. It takes her three or four hours and on a Sunday afternoon, there’s barely anyone on these small town back roads. She can’t unfocus her eyes, but her mind drifts in and out of true awareness. It’s here she’s able to truly focus on her life in the moment. The baby, whose just learned to walk this week, isn’t going to bang her head against a table corner, her toddler isn’t going to jump and crack her head open or have her feelings hurt at school. Her own dramas, for just these few hours a week, fade into the distance where they belong.

Here on the trail, shoes muddy and heart open, I am here in the present, I am here in the distance, where I belong.