hike

Hippie Dancing

/ Sloan / Leave a comment

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

/ Sloan / 1 Comment

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?

Yeeeeehaw Parte Dos (because sometimes I speak Spanish)

/ Sloan / 3 Comments

I run. In the woods I feel like an animal. My kind of trail running isn’t a path with woods on either side, it isn’t a paved bike lane along some river—my kind of trail run is a narrow path that forces me to engage both my feet and my mind; and in turn my heart and my soul are engaged just as much.

West Virginia is known for some epic trails, hiking and mountain biking—from our camp site there was a small trail that was meant for a walk or a hike, measuring, according to the sign, 1.1 miles—not far at all. But if you remember, I’ve been out for 12ish weeks and any kind of run was going to satisfy my itch to ‘float’ over rock and root. I set out to run, I ended up running, walking and absorbing the woods for all they had to offer.

Imagine a field full of tents, music blasting from across the field and then enter the woods and there is literally a line you can cross that shuts all that off. Your senses shift and change as you approach a bridge that lets you cross a stream. You walk over  the wooden bridge and it’s like someone hit the ‘mute’ button on reality and turned the volume up on a nature—this is exactly what happened. The only sounds after I crossed the bridge were chipmunks leaping out of the way, a few birds and my labored breathing. The 1.1 mile loop had an ‘approach’ and the real loop was .8 miles—short but tough. Hills, mud that made me slip up and down hill, roots, branches and logs to leap over…this was the trail running you see in a The North Face advertisement. I vow to never stop exploring and press on through the loop 1, 2, 3, 4 times. Solid.

For the first time I was wearing a pair of shoes that are considered ‘barefoot’ for their intended purpose on the trail. I’d never worn them in the woods, these shoes connected me, forced me to feel the earth under my feet and allowed it to radiate up my body and pulse through my blood. As I finished my run I had nothing but a grin on my face and sweat dripping all over my body, (WV is hot and humid when it wants to be.) I emerged from the woods to see my new friends grinning back, Alan, Lauren, Josh, Adam and Steve—they could sense the joy I was feeling and were rearranging their cars, ready to go hike and climb and inviting me to do the same. Even if there had been time for a shower there wasn’t one available; this was the beginning of my showerless week. I washed my face, threw on some yoga pants and joined them to explore WV some more.

 

Yeeehaww!!