Glissading Gone… ?

If sliding down a mountain slope on your butt is wrong, I don’t want to be right.

What goes up, gets to come down.

Little O’Malley Summit, Anchorage

Glissading is by far the simplest, and most fun way to get off a mountain summit* until I learn how to paraglide. By it’s definition, glissading is simple: the climber sits on her butt, leans back, lifts feet, and slides down the angle quickly and efficiently. Of course, there’s technique and considerations if you’re on a steep angle and/or carrying an ice ax (checking for that information). And if you know me at all, that ain’t my game.

For your viewing pleasure:

Glissading done well:

Glissading done… not well (sound on):

As if I ever do anything with style and grace… A nylon skirt, well packed trail and a just right angle were ingredients for one seriously fast and funny trip to the bottom. You’re welcome!

*I am not a mountaineer, ice climber, or other high-octane adventure seeker. I stick to low angles and elevations. Glissade at your own risk!

Perfect Days

This morning I was riding my bike with the sun on my neck and golden leaves in my face. It was a perfect temperature and the rays of sunlight coupled with fog patches in the trees were ethereal.

I thought about taking a picture and acknowledged that no iPhone snap could actually capture the magic or essence of the morning, so I rode on.

This afternoon, the skies were still blue and the sun was warm again as I made my way home. It was just too perfect, so I opted to take the long way home, weaving through downtown Anchorage’s “rush hour” traffic to catch the west end of the green belt trail.

This time the picture lined up. All I can think is, hang in there fall, let me soak it up just a little bit longer.

2017 Her Tern 1/2 & 1/4, and a little humility

The Her Tern Half is my favorite Anchorage 1/2 marathon. The course is straight forward, enjoyable and I know it like the back of my hand. The swag is ridiculous and not junk. And, the energy of running with hundreds of other women is unbeatable (I think of that song by Aretha and Annie Lenox, Sisters are doing it for themselves).

I’ve been running the half since its inception in 2013, only missing the summer we were in France. This year was no different, except about two weeks before the race it started to feel a little…. stupid… to run a half marathon that I hadn’t been training for. At all. Like, it’d been about a month since I’d last run (4 miles).

A year or two ago, HT introduced the quarter marathon – same route, same swag, same energy – different mileage. 6 miles felt way more doable than 13, so I switched my registration and went for it. My logic became: pushing myself to run 6 miles well, versus killing myself to run 13 miles poorly, will make me feel like a champion at the end, not a waste case. The logic worked. I pulled out 6 miles in an hour, 13 minutes and finished on the hill with a smile.