#nataliect

Trail running has become an addiction for me. If I spot a new mountain trail, I start wondering about how to unlock that puzzle. The climbs, the turns, the forks, all present choices on how to position my body. When I run, I position my feet, knees, and hips in the direction I need to go. The roots and rocks give my runs complexity. Trails offer strength.

In early August, 2016, I decided to tackle a trail I had navigated before but explore it further. I traversed my way up the narrow, wooded trail to Lake Blanche, a popular destination, then found the series of small trails that branch off a grove of white trunked aspens. I made my way around large boulders and small banks of pine trees till I found myself on a gradually ascending trail on a very steep grassy, mountain slope. I know most canyons in the area end in a V with a trail leading over into a neighboring finger canyon.

I had my frog green waterpack around my waist, running food, an extra t-shirt, and determination. As I progressed, the trail was marked by several stacked cairns. Precariously stacked rock cairns signal it is a trail others have traveled on. However the narrow trail, covered in black shale, kept going and going. I couldn’t see a way up and out. 20-30 feet above me were big reddish boulders and half a mile below me stretched a narrow grassy meadow with a small lake snaking down the center. I neared the back of the canyon and began climbing across loose scree (rocks fallen from the boulders above me). The trail seemed to disappear. And scree is not safe to run on. Rock slides and hidden snakes are strong possibilities. My experience helped me to step carefully. But the concentration it takes to pick my way over loose rock is exhausting. The way became impassable. I decided to try to climb up the rock face above me. I needed to see if I could get into the finger canyon to my left.

Boldly, I made my way up the loose rocks to the solid rocks cementing the mountainside. The dark, reddish brown rocks held plenty of crevices and handholds. I have never free climbed a rock face before but figured my trail running skills would transfer to rock climbing. I felt sure I would find a narrow, dirt trail descending into a green meadow on the other side. I grabbed a rock to my left, lifted up my right foot, then grabbed a rock above to my right, and found a foothold with my left foot. I ascended for about 5 meters when a voice in my head said, “hold on tightly, it’s really scary up here.” Glancing down, the loose red rocks seemed to tumble below me into an abyss. My whole body started to shake. My mind raced forward to an image of me falling from the rocks into dead air. I gripped each outcropping more tightly, wedging my body into the shallow crevices in front of me.

“I could climb down,” I thought. Too dangerous! “I don’t want to die,” I prayed. “Hold me against these rocks,” I continued.  Climb up in zigzag type pattern! Look for the firmest hand and foot holds. After each move I made upwards, I finished by pressing my body closely into the rocks. I started to say aloud in the firmest voice I could find: “I can do this!” I forced negative voices from my head.

I ambled up another 10 meters to find the bedrock met black shale. My second attempt to grasp the rocks above me resulted in crumbling flat shards that tumbled down below me. My mind slowed; my whole body became tense. I paused to think through the possibilities. Climb up slowly, the last 10 meters or so, and climb safely into the next canyon. I searched for the least splintered shale and kept three points of contact at all times. My sense of preservation kept chanting, “Do not fall.” I stopped after each movement upwards to take a deep breath and try to force my body from shaking. I kept praying that God would protect me. Gradually, I had the sense come over me that an angel stood behind me, keeping me close to the rock face. A peaceful feeling surrounded me. I gripped the rock another 5 meters or till my head surfaced above the first peak of the jagged rock face closest to me.

I extended my legs in the footholds I had wedged into and peeked over to see the descent on the other side. Shockingly, the other side was steeper than the side I was on. It looked like I was looking over a cliff straight down to a patchwork of lighter and darker green farmland. No way down. My only option was to descend the rock face in reverse, and get back on the trail.

I prayed again, then descended slowly, keeping my left side against the rock face and finding the best hand and foot holds I could. I worked my way further to my right than I had on the ascent. Luckily I found a firm juniper growing out of the boulders. When I reached it, I wedged myself against it to sip my water bottle, chew a few bites of energy blocks, and take a few extra breaths. I continued down, off the boulders onto the loose rocks, then searched for the trail.

If you are in the dating scene, you have probably heard of Tinder. Unfortunately, it is not called Tender as in treat everyone with tenderly. If you have used Tinder, you probably felt a rush of adrenaline as you looked at profiles and swiped a few photos.  Can you find tender care on Tinder? Tough question!

Your friends, others on Tinder, and quite a few dating websites have advice on how to use Tinder to get a great hookup. But when you put your face and profile on Tinder, you are taking a risk. If you want to take that risk, it’s important to understand some of the potential dangers.

Low sense of Danger

If you haven’t gone out a lot, you are most likely to think going out is fun. But meeting people online and going out with them without really getting to know them can pose serious dangers. The person you meet may expect a level of intimacy you aren’t ready for. You want to hold hands; he or she wants to get to the bedroom.

It is awkward for many people to say I have a sexually transmitted disease. But getting chlamydia from a one night stand is no party. Your potential partner could even be a sociopath or have violent behavioral tendencies. You meet a seemingly great person, he or she finds out where you live then does not stop bothering you. That can be really scary to handle. It is difficult to tell a lot about a person based on a brief online profile.

Be cautious. Ask questions. Be clear about your expectations. And if something doesn’t feel right, do not put yourself in a potentially dangerous situation.

Addictive to use

Tinder is so easy to use it can become game like. Faces and bodies are just swiped to the side and the reality that they are actual individuals can be difficult to remember. If you have tried Tinder, think if, when you are with someone you met, if you have wanted to swipe again to find someone new. Most people say they consider the next person they will meet while they are actually with a person they met online. You can just give into the temptation to swipe again and again.

An action that is easy to do is easy to repeat. Swiping with your finger across your phone screen is seriously easy to do. It is hard to stop. Think how many people you see with their faces glued to their screens as they walk, ride in a car or train, sit at a desk etc… Pulling yourself away from your phone takes will power.

When you meet a great person online, you need to quit swiping on Tinder.

People are just a photo

Social Media lets you create a you. You can be funny and smart. You can be adventurous. You can be strongly masculine or strongly feminine. All it takes is a few interesting photos and an interesting bio and viola, you a made up person. If you can make up a new personality, then so can many other people on Tinder.

But even more dangerously, the people you see on Tinder may not really be people in your mind. They may be a fun person to talk to or a body to make your body do what you want. A blond girl may be just like the other 20 blond girls you meet on Tinder. A muscly guy may be just like the other 20 guys you meet online. Individual names, actual personality, and actual feelings can fade into just another person you meet on Tinder.

Do not put yourself in that mindset. Each person has his or her own thoughts, feelings, wishes, desires. Those can be hidden so that the online persona is the only one you meet. Get to know real people

Good relationships start with sex

You get to know a person. He or she is nice and fun to be with. You want to get closer and see how well you get along. Having sex with someone does not create a strong connection. Learning how to speak and listen to someone you like is the first step. You need to get to know the other person and respect him or her as an individual. A physical relationship early on pushes you right past getting to know the other person or developing respect for him or her.

Statistics show relationships that start with sex are not as long lasting. You are more likely to stay with someone if you delay sex. Tinder is also known as the hookup app so about half the people who use Tinder plan on having sex pretty early on in the relationship.

If you want to have someone stick around, get to know him or her first. And keep it between the two of you.

Use your brain

I was thinking about how many students think writing an essay is a piece of cake. It isn’t, unless we are talking multilayer cake. Here is a deconstructed essay in it early stages. I have complete part of it (most of the introduction, and the beginning paragraph. The other section are in pieces. Writing an essay means you assemble pieces, arrange them, then make it pretty with nice connecting ideas and words. Following is the essay:

I love the game of basketball. It takes hard work and dedication. Basketball is a skill. You need several important skills to play basketball. These important skills are 1.ball handling and 2.scoring however 3.understanding defense can make or break your game.

1. One of the first skills to learn as a basketball player is how to move the basketball. This begins with simply dribbling the ball and getting the feel for it in your hands. Daily practice helps you to make the ball feel like it is a part of your hand. This will develop an instinctive feel so that every time you get the ball you can dribble it easily and eventually skillfully. Practice and instruction can help you master dribbling skills such as through the legs, around the legs, and front to back.  You need to also work with your team to pass the ball. Each player should have some level of dribbling skills to work as a team which would then extend to passing the ball from player to player. No one wants to play on a team with one good ball handler and a bunch of other players who stand around. Once you are able to dribble and pass the ball, your team has to do something with it.

2.Scoring is key to any basketball game

Scoring means putting the basketball in the hoop

You can only do this if you learn to shoot accurately

In order to score you must have possession of the ball

To do this you must rebound or make the most of your possession when you have the ball

3.An often overlooked part of the game is defense

You must set up a perimeter so that your team can score

On the other hand you must be able to penetrate your opponent’s defense

Getting through defense will help you to score and stop the other team from scoring

When I started running after a long hiatus (chasing little people around), it was because I was asked to run with a group who were training for a half marathon. One guy came up with our training plan and we followed it to get ready. As we neared the race date, our group of 5 dwindled to two.

I figured since I had trained up to 9 miles of the 13.2 mile goal, I might as well keep training. Saturday group runs became just like my weekly runs, just me and the road. So I had to figure out how to pass the time in my head. Story writing is what I came up with. Then instead of thinking about how my ankle was sore or my hamstrings tight, I wrote in my head. It made runs really a treat instead of torture.

When race day came, I lined up with all the other racers, the only one of our group to succeed to that point. As part of my inner stories, I saw myself reaching the finish line in some amazing time and hardly feeling any discomfort. I started out in the middle of the group and ran faster than my normal pace. About mile 6 panic set in. My side hurt, my legs were tight, and we reached a gradual hill I could not tackle as fast as the people around me. I dropped back because I had trouble breathing and focusing.

So I determined I would just keep running forward. (Someone later defined that as the survival shuffle—runners use it to keep going when you hit a wall). About half a mile later I saw a younger runner alternately running and walking. I could keep running if he was walking! So I changed the song on my ipod to something upbeat. I picked up my speed. Then I saw a runner I knew walking and looking completely exhausted. I was actually feeling better than that guy. I saw other runners around me slowing down around mile 8 and 9 while others picked up their pace. I had trained so much I just dug deep and kept as steady a pace as I could.

When I saw the sign for mile 12 I knew I had this. I changed to “Remember the Name” by Fort Minor and ran the fastest pace I could handle. It finally clicked that if it hurt or I couldn’t breath, I could slow down a bit and if I felt good, I could run the fastest pace I thought I could handle. I had a great finish (for me). I was really happy too when I realized we got a pancake breakfast at the end.

What started out as a simple wish to get into running again turned into an amazing learn-about-myself experience. And now I have a running addiction as well! A simple goal has become a passion.

Did you know that you can not only expel someone or something, you can also reexpel and unexpel according to the dictionary. I did not even know it was possible to reexpel someone. Can you exile someone who has already been exiled. I have been pushed out of a social circle that I was a part of for quite a while. I was mischaracterized and slandered. I even got a slander suit in return as a kind thank you from some clear thinking woman (last sentence is dripping with heavy sarcasm). I feel silenced by this community because know one seems to hear me.

But interestingly, I have slowly discovered that my lack of voice in that space says more about them than it does about me. Why do I keep searching if I am the problem when I get silence in return. I only hear rumors that any problem must stem from me.

Two recipes I plan to make this week called for curry leaves. Another called for mango powder. Confident in my ability to try new things, I went to the Asian Mart (which I affectionately call the Stinky Store) and asked about 4 employees where the curry leaves were. I’m not sure if it was culturally appropriate to ask that many people in a small store. I checked the fresh food aisle, the dried spices section, and the frozen aisle. When I asked a woman where mango powder could be she asked me what powder was. I rubbed my fingers together to indicate powder and she directed me to mango juice. I could have said to myself I can’t make these recipes. It is too hard. They are too foreign for me. I might as well stuff my face with gooey cheese pizza and give up on exotic things. But the little persistent personality in my head said what about powdered curry, or curry paste, or curry gravy. For the mango I got mango syrup and canned mango because I will just improvise.

Lying on my bed I stare up at the ceiling. The early morning light, almost gray, creeps around the white sheet I have hung over the expanse of window. I will order the drapes for the windows next week, or was that last week? I turn to my side and see the books towering in neat stacks by color and genre. I often start these projects at 11pm after dinner and walk around the park. Dust may have covered the bookshelves overnight so I will have to get a new dusting towel and rewipe those shelves. Last time I arranged the books, I had one cream colored book amongst all the white ones. It was even a book on organizing closets which clearly did not go with my set of Cooking in France cookbooks. The block letter against the white spines looked like it matched but anyone who studied my book cases would see it was in the wrong category. What can I do with only one book on organizing. I’ll make a note to get several other books like how to organize your fridge and how to organize your email.

I had the fiction with various blue spines next to the ones with shades of green. But Razor’s Edge with the steel blue spine just didn’t fit anywhere. I had stopped there when I could barely keep my eyes open. The dozen yellow spines made a perfect stack because they were all mystery novels. The two black stacks of fiction and the dark gray psychology manuals and textbooks towered just past the yellow stack. The others were stuffed into baskets under my bed. I could not organize every book because the genres and spines were two various so I had pushed them under my bed the last time I had organized my shelves (possibly last week). I figure the words in those books will permeate the room and I’ll suddenly be able to speak in languages I do not know yet.

Work will call about 7 am so I have to make the most progress possible so that I can get there. Otherwise I never find my keys, my jacket, the front door, the elevator and the path to the L. My barefeet glide across the floor to the kitchen space and I slowly pour a glass of pear juice and get a bowl of Kashi to settle in. I breath deeply a few times and assume my spot on the floor between my bed and the book shelves. Dusting towel, dusting towel. I look and find them to my right. A bite of Kashi, a drink of juice, then I rise and wipe the top shelf left to right in long strokes. Kneeling I take another bite of Kashi and another drink. I can’t let my energy get low otherwise I cannot keep rising. Down each shelf I dust slowly in the same direction. I then place white books on the top shelf to expand the space. White is like heaven and clouds and space.

After the third shelf my alarm goes off. I must shower and prepare for my day of work. Then I can return to finish with the black books. I turn to head towards the bathroom, then remember there was probably one more black book under the bed. On hands and knees I reach under my oak platform bed and pull out the two baskets of books. They look so jumbled I want to cry. I bought these books carefully, deciding on each title after careful research. Some spines face up, others down, so that they are not ordered at all. I rifle through them then realize I can only find the book I’m thinking of if I put all of the spines facing up. I think at some point my phone rings but I need to get these books in order. These books cannot organize themselves. They may speak but they never move. Not without my hand firmly on them. It’s as if they might float. They seem to be bound in the baskets or tied to the shelves with invisible strings. I can manipulate these strings by setting each book at the front of the shelf and carefully sliding it back into place. “We musn’t damage spines by shoving them to the back. The outside edges of the pages crush if the book is not slid with great care.”

Halfway through placing the black books carefully in place, my phone rings. It is Ellen calling. “Sleepyhead” she says gently, “You know this is your wakeup call.”

“Yeah,” I say, rubbing the back of my neck, “I just got up. Slept in again. Sorry about that.”

“We can’t start this project without you. We’ll order tuna sandwiches for lunch again,” Ellen says lightly with no hint of distress in her voice.