it’s coming…

This is it, we’re in the middle of it already! It’s the time of year that requires, to my way of thinking, the most adjustment: from Fall into Winter.  Yes, capitalized, just like that.  Its seems like only a few weeks ago that it was all sundresses, maybe paired with boots, but maybe not, maybe still with a bare leg and a cute heel.  But now! No dice.  Even though the temps can still be into the 50s and 60s, the morning-time is chilly-willy, down to the 30s.  Even I, Winter Lover Extraordinaire, experience some difficulty in acclimating.  No, it’s true.  I love winter, but I become slightly squeamish about getting out and doing stuff when it’s cold-yet not winter, with wind-but no snow.

Par ejemplo, last night, I went for a run.  But it took some mind-wrangling to get there.  I came home from work and, realizing I had eaten way too much office-chocolate (this is not a euphemism, though it really could refer to a number of things… there’s chocolate and candy f’ing everywhere in the damn office.  I look at it as a good exercise in self control, though it usually turns into let’s-eat-so-much-chocolate-at-work-that-it-makes-me-sick-and-I-don’t-want-to-eat-it-anymore, however.  This experiment, as yet, has not proven successful.), and because I had chosen not to visit the gym, I decided on the running.  I got home and started eating corn chips, mais oui.  And I ate a lot of them.  Stress-eating, you wonder? Procrastination-induced snacking? Yes, yes indeed.  Because it was COLD (44 deg F, or thereabouts) and it was windy, and I simply DID NOT WANT TO.  But, I went anyway, and once I got out there it was good.

The tricky part of cold-weather activity is managing the body-temp gap between starting the activity and being at the point of sweating.  Layering! Of course! But if you run, you know it’s a real hassle to take shit off and tie it around your waist.  Plus, you end up looking like an elderly woman mall-walking at 7am.  So I dress sparingly, and hope I’ve struck the right balance.  I did, last night, and the run was lovely.

My point being, though, that I have to remind myself every year that, while it stinks sometimes to get out there, it’s a matter of wearing the appropriate clothing, and then you can do anything.  Right?  I saw a guy driving to work yesterday morning, on a motorcycle, in 40-something degree rain.  But he was wearing a nice motorcycle suit and I thought to myself, I’ll be he’s real comfy.  And he probably was.  Because he was protected by his clothing, which is the whole point. Here’s a good frame of reference:

Image courtesy of The Arctic Kingdom Polar Expeditions.

This may seem like the most asinine pastime in the whole world, but there are those who love ice-diving.  I’ve heard it’s beautiful, though I can’t say for certain I’d ever endeavor.  Properly clothed, though, it’s nearly the same as any other cold-water diving.  It’s all about the equipment.

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hosted!

I don’t know why it’s taken me forever to figure this out.  Installing WordPress on my computer so that I can do all sorts of wondrous things has been nearly as painful as contemplating chewing off my own arm, like that guy in 127 Hours, a movie which did not hold my attention.  Or else I was knitting or cooking and only marginally paying attention to a movie which probably required a lot of visual processing, so it was all just lost on me.  My point being that WP is hopefully installing as we speak.  Maybe.  And then, perhaps, I can figure out how to use it and not funk everything up!  Woo-hoo!

Did I mention I’m wanderlusting?  Whereas the Daily Show will give you a moment of Zen, I am giving myself a daily dose of torture, or inspiration, depending upon how you view it.  I’m somewhere in between, myself.  The image du jour:

I’m practically salivating over anything Montana-related at this point.  Except for fires and the like.  Except if I were salivating over wildfires, I would be, theoretically, helping the cause.  Anyway.

I’m not just fantasizing about any old place in MT, it’s one area in particular.  It starts in Red Lodge, stretches north by way of U.S. Route 212Beartooth Highway, which, according to Wikipedia, passes through portions of Custer National Forest, and Shoshone National Forest and near the Absaroka-Beartooth Wilderness.  U.S. 212 winds in and out of Montana and Wyoming, with a layover in Cooke City, until it finally ends just a bit further along, at the northeast entrance of Yellowstone.

We camped along this route a million times when I was a kid.  An oft-repeated story of Ang-as-toddler occurred while staying at Island Lake Campground, elevation 9,600 ft.  Not ever a graceful child, I fell into the very-very cold water one night and, because I was pretty short, drenched all of my little jeans.  The jeans were hung outside overnight to dry, but the temps dipped that night, and we awoke to frozen pants, and I started to cry.  This is where opinions differ.  I’m quite certain that I was crying because I saw snow on the ground.  The three other members of my family insist it was because the jeans were frozen.  I have always disagreed with this premise, but no longer dispute it when told around the campfire.  There are other stories they don’t tell, like the time when, raising it too quickly, a flaming marshmallow launched from the stick, landing squarely on my cheek.  Or how, as a teenager, I insisted upon wearing makeup throughout our annual westward trek, secretly convinced I would pass some hunky guy on trail.

So, while we’re at it, let’s take a moment to ruminate on how much we love the National Parks and Forests, shall we?  What is your fave Park or Forest?  Share your memories in the comments!

marathon photo (not foto).

Finally done! Unfortunately, iPhoto decided to be uncooperative this week, so it’s taken me a minute to get this all compiled, but here’s a recap of the race.  So fun to go back and look through them, even though it’s just a week past!

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