Author: Sloan

Paddle High Five!!

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When life hands you a paddle you better dig it in the river and paddle as hard as you can! This weekend I spent Sunday in Ohiopyle, PA(yes, that’s really the name of the town!) and was able to get on the Lower Yough and have a turn at some white water for the first time. It was a-mazzzzing! I might be addicted and need to commit to doing this more often.

These guides are incredible, they practically live on the river, ride it daily and know its twists and turns as well as they know the layout of the furniture in the houses they grew up in. But just like life, the river changes—throws the rider over a rock, through a rapid or it rains and the river completely changes it outfit and goes from a level 3 rapid to a level 4 or 5 and tosses the riders for an even bigger ride and you have to adapt. You have to take it, you have to dig the paddle and even if you get air and miss the water completely you’re still trying, still moving forward, and still paddling.

The power behind one good push and paddle is empowering. As the rain fell, (because it rained the whole 7 miles down the river) and drops fell from my helmet, my arms used every muscle, each pull they flexed and I sweat and the 17 year old high school girl and I agreed that we felt pretty bad ass going down rapids on a Sunday afternoon in the thunder and rain. At one point we hit a rock and she and I both went flying—the river was cold, rocky, and rough but our team pulled us out and we started paddling again. Because that’s what you do. You keep going. I repeat. You keep going.

Who knew Ohiopyle, Pennsylvania would show me so much? The river would be a perfect metaphor for my life, your life and life in general. Paddle on friends, paddle on!

 

Check out my Facebook page to see video of us riding down the Dimple!

Hippie Dancing

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I don’t dance. In most cases I choose to spare people (and myself) the embarrassment of overtiring their eyes, smiling uncomfortably and dodging flailing body parts. But every once in awhile something moves me, (something other than a bit of liquid courage and a cute guy…) this past weekend I was able to attend Mountain Jam Music Festival in beautiful upstate New York. Now, I could go on and on about how beautiful the ski resort was, how the trails were probably build for running rather than skiing or mountain biking. I could talk about my hike/run up a double black diamond and how the wind at the top nearly blew me off the rock—but I’m not going to talk about this, I’m going to talk about dancing.

 I’ve always loved music but have never felt elated, never felt like I was flying when listening to it. This whole week I was dancing, sober. At the booth (I was there working) I could hear some tunes from the main stage and grabbed a hula-hoop and spun in circles with a 5-year old. As I rode the chair lift to the top I phoned my brother and couldn’t help tapping my foot in the air and my feet dangled high above the other festival goers. As Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeros played on the stage I danced. I hippie danced in the dirt and ignored everyone else around me and let the music take me away. I watched my feet become covered in dirt and create faux tan lines, the smile on my face was natural and pure. [notice in the video the camera starts to bounce, that’s me trying to dance] —I’ve been unable to upload the video, I’ll work on it and get it up eventually! (ooooh, technology)—-

Later in the evening when Government Mule, My Morning Jacket, Umphy’s McGee… played—I danced, hard. I danced and danced and floated up and up. I ignored all inhibitions and just moved with the music I heard. Sometimes letting go in the best to escape and feel good. The weekend was filled with body moving. Between mornings running or hiking up the ski mountain, hooping and slack lining at the booth, dancing (at least what I called dancing.) The atmosphere created by this music, the looming mountain tops and a sun shiney weekend—was perfect.

Yeeehawww!: Part 3

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I hike. Now, if you know me in real life you will know that I’m not the most graceful of people—meaning I trip, I fall, I run into things (I think I inherited this from my mother,) but most of the time it’s with a smile on my face followed by laughter, so it’s okay! This trip to West Virginia was no different, my group of new friends and I decided to head to the visitors center and check out the view of the bridge, the river and watch the crazy mid-western tourists snap photos at the vastness of what West Virginia has to offer. Gawking at the elevation change and how different it is from the cornfields of Illinois.

It had just rained I was sporting some sandals and walking down stairs, chatting and taking in the view. One of the guys was talking about how he just read that this bridge could fit two Washington Monuments, a Statue of Liberty AND still have twenty feet of space between it and the water! CRAZY! I thought, then BAM!!! I slid down four steps (my only shock absorber being my ass), grabbing onto whatever I could (mostly the people around me) everyone turned to look and see me, on my ass, laughing and crying at the same time. Awesome, a new bruise to add to my collection.  I won’t post the picture, it’s pretty gruesome and a bit PG-13.

That was my first hike of the week in WV. With the injury out of the way I was confident that my hike down the Kaymoor trail would be less eventful and more relaxing. Saturday morning of the Rendezvous my co-worker and I set off to hike down the 837 stairs and tromp down to the river. This was the easy part, a leisurely walk down, hang at the river, eat a few clementines and dunk my head in the swift water to cool off and revitalize my curls. Then our venture back up came, tired from the sun and legs shaky from the hike down, we began the 837 stairs back to the car.

I counted. I counted each step. One may think they are in good shape, you can think this all you want until you’re in the position where you have to move your body UP STAIRS FOR 837 steps, who thought this was a good idea?! But the accomplishment when it was over was overwhelming. This was a hike that was not only good for the body, but we had rewards at both ends—the way down we took our time, taking pictures, watching a millipede crawl across a branch was fascinating for a good 35 minutes, the river had a cool breeze coming off it, we watched rafters enjoy the day on the river and the hike up left me feeling tired and accomplished and there was an iced mocha calling my name at the local coffee shop!

I realized that even though I had been injured for weeks I was still in decent enough shape to use my body, bruised and all, to move myself up up and up!  Our bodies are incredible, they allow us to see, feel and experience so much—releasing endorphins can be as easy as climbing a few (hundred) stairs and enjoying the afternoon on a river.

 

What’s your favorite way to release some killer endorphins?