It's been about a month since I lasted posted, which totally blows my plan to blog weekly. Whatever. It's been one of those crazy busy months, really bad-busy. There hasn't been a lot of opportunities to take pictures, so most of the coming adventures will be animated by me. This particular entry will cover the things I've seen and learned over the course of the winter. Below I've got blogs about 1) success in rock climbing, and the wisdom of children; 2) the impact of stress of the body; and 3) a story about feeling crazy. But it will all be more light-hearted than it sounds.
As you may know, Cache Valley is subject to temperature inversions in the winter that lead to horrible air quality. So horrible you can taste the fumes in the air. Regular Seasonal Affective Disorder is bad enough, but I'm pretty sure it's worse when you can't see the mountains around you, even in the daylight. It's like living in a PM-2.5 Soup. However, Logan Canyon and higher elevations are just a few miles away, so I've been able to reset after a stressful week. I like to think of these trips as mental health days, where I can breathe easier and think more clearly. Check out a few images from these excursions:
Fog setting in above Bear Lake, viewed from the Bear Lake Overlook.
Sweet snow texture, seen from a snow shoe excursion.
Best tree ever, near the Beaver Mountain boundary.
More trees around the boundary.
Feeling good, even if my helmet always looks crooked.
Nice cross country ski trip up Green Canyon,.
I may not be good at cross country skiing, as demonstrated by my ability to fall every time I pass someone, but it is nice to feel the sun.
During these trips away from Logan, I've spent a lot of time mulling over the future and how much of it I am in control over. Graduate school can be a discouraging experience, with fleeting moments of success, so I've been trying to find ways to emphasize success over all the drudgery. Grad school has also given my the opportunity to speak with a number of visiting lecturers that USU has invited to speak about their super cool research, and I've learned a few things that I'm hoping to apply to my current job:
You can choose the people you work with/for. You've got to kick some people off the island and work for people who let you do what you want.
After choosing who you work with, you're in charge of making the best of the place you're at.
It's important to know how to be wrong, ecology is hard and doing good research requires constantly questioning what you thought you knew.
So with this knowledge, I'm going to kick some people off my island because they stress me out and cramp my style (though, not my boss, I like working for her), I'm going to make the most of USU, and I'm going to face my data with a brave face, knowing it could prove my original hypotheses wrong. I'm also going to continue fleeing up the canyon on a regular basis in order to keep my lungs healthy and my mind strong. Hooray.
I thought about opening with a number of studies showing the impact of stress on the body. But I'm sure you've all read something about it. Stress affects every system in the body in some negative way, it can make your hair fall out, decrease your ability to fight off infections, and increase digestive distress. Many of these effects are caused by increased levels of cortisol in the blood. During this crazy-busy month, I've seen the impacts of stress in two ways, canker sores and tardiness, which I will illustrate below:
Part 1 - An Apology
I owe pretty much everyone I've seen in the past few weeks an apology for my smile. I've spent the last two years fighting my introverted nature by acknowledging people I pass when I'm out and about. Honestly, my default is to pretend I don't see people, or just give a small head nod. It's not out of social anxiety or dislike of the people I see, I just prefer to be in my own bubble while I'm out on my constitutionals. But that's a whole other story for another time (though seethis delightful comicfor a great illustration of introversion). Turns out, my out-for-a-walk bubble is not an invisibility cloak and people can totally see me, so I've made an effort lately to acknowledge people more (wearing my glasses and leaving the iPod behind so I can see and hear people sure helps in this effort). This totally blew up in my face a few weeks ago because I've had a seriously heinous canker on the left side of my face that caused the following faces:
The not-enough-prep-time-and-it-hurts-to-smile-big Smile. Note the effort to turn up the sides of my mouth while keeping the canker from contacting my teeth. Awkward. Given enough time, I can muster a real smile, but it requires careful preparation to ensure my canker doesn't rub on my teeth.
The I'm-not-sure-I-recognize-you Smile. Notice the eyebrows raised in the expectation of possible recognition. There is some effort to make my mouth move in a smile, but it's not enough. The more I look at this, the more I worry for the future.
Ouch! That's-the-canker! Smile. This is caused by my canker rubbing against my teeth, and it hurts a lot! Aargh. Perhaps cankers are the reason pirates are characterized the way they are.
To all of you who I made funny faces at during the Canker Episode, I am sorry. The canker in my mouth prevented me from smiling, which lead to all the funny faces I made at you. In the future, I will do better to keep my stress manageable and my face canker-free. While I'm at it, I will also apologize to those of you I have ignored because I wasn't wearing my glasses, your face was blur and I did not recognize you. But I still like you.
Part 2 - The Thing I Said I'd Never Do
The other part of being so busy/stressed it that I am always running late. I care about showing up places on time, especially the bus stop, because the bus won't wait for me, and another won't show up for 15 minutes. That has lead me run with my backpack on, which I always said I'd never do. It looks silly, and I'm left huffing and puffing on the bus, which fogs up my glasses in this weather. Here's my illustration of the forces at work to make running so difficult:
1) Forward motion of running impeded by uneven, icy surface that decreases the friction necessary for speedy movement. 2) Swinging backpack, only stabilized by pinning my elbows to the side. 3) Coffee motion (and terrible travel mug) that requires awkward extended arm, gliding run technique to prevent spilling (thus negating efforts in steps 1 and 2).
4) Efforts to create a smooth run that keeps backpack and coffee from swinging too much looks silly.
I will try to avoid this awkwardness in the coming weeks, but I can't make any promises. That extra 5 minutes I spend in bed every morning (which I could spend getting ready on time) are absolutely wonderful and I don't anticipate giving them up.
Climbing kids (let's call kids anyone younger than 10) are one of my favorite things about climbing at the gym. Kids try so hard, seem so fearless, and look like they're having the most fun. The other day I overheard one of these kids say "Dad, I like climbing, I'm really good at this." I was tickled by that statement, it sounded like he was having a great time. Then I got to thinking about the last time I thought "Hey, this is awesome and I'm good at it." And it's been a long time.
The more I analyzed my thought patterns when I'm struggling, or even when I'm cruising, I realized just how negative and un-enjoyable my thinking is. Which got me to thinking about samskaras, the current expression of past karmic tendencies, imprints and patterns. Samskaras can be changing constantly, if we pay attention to them, because our current thoughts build future habits. [A quote from this article I really like: "Sow a thought, reap a habit. Sow a habit, reap a character. Sow a character, reap a destiny."] With that in mind, I think one of the best ways to recapture the fun I've had climbing is to identify the bad samskaras I have and try to build new ones. Most often, these bad thought habits are manifested in the songs stuck in my head, which I have decided to illustrate here (along with an explanation of the silly climbing jargon they come along with).
Bad Thought - I can't clip off that sloper.
A sloper is a hold or rock that is more rounded than edgy. The grip required to hold onto slopers feels weaker and less secure than for edgier ("crimpy") holds. Clipping is the process of clipping a rope through a caribiner that has been clipped to the wall/rock face, protecting you from hitting the ground during a fall. Clipping, especially from sloping hand holds, is the scariest part of a climb for me. Being scared leads to a lot of climbing up one foot, then down one foot, then figdeting... It's a lot of wasted energy, and the whole time I have a Taylor Swift song stuck in my head. Ridiculous.
Bad Thought Song -
(Just hear "clipping off that sloper" instead of "getting back together." It's totally what happens in my head.)
New Thought - What is the best position to clip from? Should I climb higher?
There are two things I can do when I get scared like that. Put on a brave face and trust the hold I don't like, or keep that brave face on and climb until I get to something I do like. Either of these options requires the ability to keep thinking, even when scared, and breathing evenly is a key part of this. Thankfully, I really enjoy the Ingrid Michaelson song below this, so I can remember to breathe.
Good Thoughts Song -
Unproductive Thought - This ledge I'm standing on is the most beautiful ledge I've ever stood on, I will not move from it. Ledges, which I'll call anything wider than four inches, feel very safe. Unfortunately, that brief period of feeling extra safe can leave me too petrified to move on up. The longer I stand on the ledge, the more tired my legs get, so they start shaking. Then my brain starts to become exhausted and defaults to playing Lady Gaga over and over. I love Lady Gaga, but the portion of "Edge of Glory" that gets stuck in my head is Gaga at her most repetitive It's not productive. And while no one can hear the song in my head, everyone can see my shake-leg, and they always mock me.
Unproductive Tune -
More Productive Thought - This beautiful ledge is an excellent place to rest, but I should move on before I tire myself out.
Resting is an important part of climbing, but I think if you don't move past your resting spot it's considered quitting. From what I remember of moving past "secure" places, the air feels fresher and the views seem clearer once I move past the fear. So that's what I'll try doing.
A Song for Climbing Higher -
Negative Thinking - I will fall (and die) if I have to make a dynamic move.
A dynamic move is one where at least one limb does not maintain contact with the climbing wall; lunging, leaping, and jumping are all dynamic moves, and they're scary. When stuck in the tunnel vision of fear, everything below me looks a million feet away, and the stuff above doesn't look that close either. With these mis-perceptions, I can't properly assess the risk of making a move.
A (Beautiful) Song for Negative Thinking -
Positive (and Realistic) Thinking - With a couple of shifts and a dynamic move, I can get that hold. I could fall making this move, but my belayer will catch me.
Accepting that you may fall is a critical step in lead climbing, and one I need to remember most often. Chances are, if I'm making a dynamic move in the gym, I can make it.
However, falling in the gym isn't that bad (falling outside is slightly riskier, but not bad at all if you do it safely). In fact, taking a fall or two can be a good reminder that my belayer will catch me and all will be well.
The Song that Makes Me Happiest -
Hmm. Well, after drawing that out, I feel much better. Here's to feeling good at that thing you're good at!
[On another subject, I thought buying a package of rainbow colored pens was a frivolous and childish thing to do. But turns out it was the best idea I've had all semester.]
I've spent the last four months convinced I lost a pair of shoes. The snowier things got, the sadder I got about my missing shoes because they're warm and have traction and I've been wearing the same pair of giant black boots (illustrated in my blog about getting to the bus stop) all winter. I asked my parents if I left the shoes at their place, I cleaned out my car, I worried I left them in Maryland, I came this close to asking the Facebook world if they knew where my shoes were. Then on Friday I was looking for a pair of sneakers and found my missing shoes, in the shoe box they came in, exactly where they should be. As a completely sane person, I came up with three scenarios for why I could not find these shoes in November, but could find them in February.
My missing shoes, safe and sound at home.
1- Theft and return. Someone, with unknown motives, snuck into my apartment, took my shoes, kept them for four months, and returned them recently. Perhaps they felt bad. Maybe they realized the heel is quite stiff and needs to be broken in. Or they may have grown tired of hearing me clomp around in my boots and wanted me to have a quieter footwear option. Well-played, sneaky person. And thanks for the shoes back. 2- Time travel. Hopefully the ability to travel through time is closer to becoming a reality than I realized. It this near future, perhaps I travel somewhere without these shoes and realize I need them, so I return for the shoes but two years earlier than I left. I'm not entirely clear on the rules of time travel, but I'm pretty sure you're not supposed to make contact with past or future versions of yourself, and since these missing shoes didn't really alter the course of my life (because I've got other shoes), it was not worth returning the shoes to the present until the future adventure was over. 3- Mistaken. It is also possible that I was mistaken when I thought the shoes were missing. I kind of remember looking in the shoe box in my closet and wondering where I had left them. I very clearly remember the disappointment of searching my car and finding two empty bags of Jalapeno Cheetos, a frozen water bottle of Gatorade, and no hiking shoes. But then again, my memory isn't all that great, I might have made up the missing shoe feeling and clung to the disappointment. It's happened before.
Now you may say, it's quite obvious, given your poor memory, that Scenario 3 is what happened. And I'm willing to believe it. However, I don't know enough about time travel advances to completely write that one off, and I've got a story that makes Scenario 1 seem reasonable. I call this story "The Time My Mom Said I Was Crazy, But I Wasn't." Several years ago, when I was still living with my parents, I started noticing weird things were happening with my laundry, particularly the underwear portion of my laundry (stick with me, this story isn't all that scandalous).
First, I noticed my favorite pair of underwear was missing. At that point in my life I was buying a lot from Victoria's Secret (constantly mailing those catalogs was an effective strategy), so when I told my mom about this she said "How can you even know that, you've got so many clothes I can't believe you've got a favorite." I tried to put the whole ordeal out of my mind, but I was really sad about this missing pair of underwear, because they were super cute.
A few weeks later, while doing laundry, I found a pile of my underwear stuffed behind some hampers in the laundry room. I thought this was weird, because I'm more careful with my laundry (after years of living with siblings who steal laundry when it's in the drier (not underwear though)), plus it was just a bunch of underwear and I sort my clothes by color, not type. Anyways, there were enough options, usually based on clothes falling out of laundry baskets, that I dropped it.
A week or so after that, I found a whole fistful of my underwear hidden behind the toilet in the bathroom connected to my bedroom. This was just too much. Why would that happen? So again, I told my mom, because I was just flummoxed. This conversation will be used for all of eternity when I'm trying to remind my mom of those times she traumatized me:
(me) Mom, I found a bunch of my dirty underwear shoved behind the toilet in the basement bathroom. Can you think of any reason that would happen? I'm kind of freaked out by it. And remember that time I couldn't find my favorite underwear? Or my new swim suit? Maybe something creepy is happening downstairs.
(mom) Becka, don't worry. You were probably just in one of your weird moods and put them there.
(me) What kind of weird moods do you think I have? I've never been in the mood to hide my underwear behind the toilet!
(mom) I don't know, but I think you're kind of strange.
To be fair to my mom, I think most of this conversation was driven by her incredible optimism (she really does look at the bright side of things, rather than the creepy-underwear-thief side of things) and the fact that Ambien had recently become popular and there were lots of stories about people doing odd things (but I was not taking Ambien).
A month after that conversation, my mom called me while to tell me I was right, someone had stolen and hidden my underwear! Turns out there was a person in our neighborhood who had entered several young women's bedrooms while visiting other people in their house, and stolen their underwear. When they were discovered, there was too much underwear to return it to the owners, so it was just thrown away (which is was really sad, because in that pile was a brand new swimsuit that had never been warm). While this was unusual, and alarming, I felt vindicated I wasn't crazy, something weird was happening in the basement.
Then I moved to Logan, I've continued to lose things, mostly close-toed shoes. However, none of the things I've lost has ever come back, until these shoes came back. So, if you've been sneaking in my house to take stuff from my closet, only to return it to the place it goes, please stop. It makes me paranoid, and a little scared.
Also, I love you mom, I hope you don't actually think I' terribly strange.
