taming the excuse-monster in my mind

As I’ve mentioned before, I recently moved to a new apartment. Habits researcher and author Gretchen Rubin writes, in her book Better than Before, that an excellent time to adopt new habits is when undergoing a shift or change in your life: a break-up, a new relationship, a new job, a home renovation, etc. Moving to a new place, it turns out, is actually the #1 time to successfully adopt new habits! So I leaped upon the opportunity to try cementing some new healthy habits that I had been wanting to fully integrate into my life.

{Image source}

One of these habits is going to bed earlier, so I can wake up earlier feeling refreshed and ready to tackle the day. Another is to focus on simplicity; I did a huge purge of clutter and papers before I moved, and I want to keep these nonessentials from slowly re-accumulating in my life, as they so often do. Also, I now begin every morning with two big glasses of water and a green smoothie. I try to write at least a couple hundred words on my creative work-in-progress each morning before I even check my email or work on projects for other people. And I am trying to set in stone a regular routine of going to the gym.

I belonged to a gym close by where I used to live, and I would go there fairly regularly, but it was never something I especially looked forward to. I could never figure out why. It was a nice gym, with lots of classes available and fancy amenities. I realize now that I did not fully feel comfortable there; the atmosphere was a bit competitive and intense, and I prefer my gym time to be low-key and low-stress. This new gym I joined by my new apartment is much less fancy, but much more my vibe: like me, the people who go there seem friendly, a little rag-tag, and much more interested in exercising for good health than for looks.

One of my favorite classes is a Monday morning gentle yoga class. The instructor is funny and upbeat, and the class always flies by and is the perfect way to ease into my week.

Lots of other people must think so, too, because the class is pretty much always filled to capacity. Classes work on a first-come, first-serve basis; when you arrive at the gym, you can ask for a pass to get into the class, and if they have any more available the person working the front desk will hand a pass to you. If not, you’re out of luck!

{Photo cred: tricsr4kidz, Flickr Creative Commons}

One week, I was a little late getting out of bed and, even thought I arrived to the gym ten minutes before class was scheduled to begin, they were all out of passes. Rats! I thought, but it was not a big deal. I stashed my yoga mat in the locker room and worked out on the elliptical machine instead.

When I was leaving, about twenty minutes before the class was scheduled to end, another woman was standing by the front desk holding a yoga mat of her own. She spotted my yoga mat and summoned me over. “Were you kicked out of the class, too?” she asked.

“Well, I wasn’t kicked out… there just wasn’t enough room when I arrived.”

This woman shook her head angrily. “It’s not fair! They should have two classes! I got here at the time the class was supposed to start, and I wasn’t able to get into the class! They kicked me out! It’s not fair!” She was like a toddler having a tantrum, blaming everyone else but herself for her predicament.

The manager behind the front desk met my eyes with a helpless expression. I realized this other yogi had probably been angrily complaining to her for the past half hour. And now she was trying to get me to gang up on the manager about the completely fair gym policy.

“It was my fault,” I said, shrugging. “I should have gotten here earlier. But I still had a great workout anyway!” And then I smiled at the manager and headed out the door. I could still hear the other woman sputtering.

This woman, with her countless loud excuses, reminded me of someone familiar: myself, at times. Especially when it comes to my BIG goals. Which, for me, pretty much all center around writing. The truth is, as much as I want to spend my days writing up a storm, on a minute-by-minute level it often feels like writing is the last thing I want to be doing. Because writing is so often difficult! It requires so much thinking and feeling, so much honesty and bravery, and so much willingness to fail, to deal with uncertainty, to feel like you have utterly no idea if what you are creating is going to ever come together at all.

Usually, I find it is especially difficult to begin. To climb back into whatever I am working on. To bridge the gap between the shining potential of the idea in my head and the stark lines of words marching imperfectly across the page. And the act of beginning is often when my excuse-laden self pops up and brightly says:


Oh, you can’t possibly write today! Look how beautiful and sunny it is outside! You don’t want to waste a day like this. Go make a picnic! Go for a hike! Now, now, now!


Oh, look how rainy and dreary it is outside. Why don’t you curl up with that new novel you’ve been wanting to read? Reading a couple chapters will be good for inspiration. Go on, just for a bit. … Oh, why not read for a bit longer? Reading is important for writing, after all.


Oh no, you woke up late! You’re completely behind schedule! No time to write today!


Oh, you woke up early! Aren’t you feeling a little groggy still? Why not get a jump on some other projects, and you can come back to your creative writing once your cup of Earl Grey has kicked in?


Shouldn’t you clean the bathroom? Wash the dishes? Put in a load of laundry? Vacuum the carpet? Your desk is looking quite messy — probably best to organize it first, before you start writing.


Don’t you have a little headache? Your back is feeling kind of sore? Maybe you’re getting sick. You should go back to bed. You should rest. Is that a pain in your gut? Maybe you should eat something. Drink something. Go put on the tea kettle. Go make a sandwich.


Oh, and you should definitely check your email and your cell phone! Can’t miss any messages! It could be something important!


Does this sound familiar to anyone else? I’ve grown to recognize the sabotaging excuse-monster in my head for what she is: afraid. She doesn’t want to sit in the discomfort. She doesn’t want to risk failure. And so she tries to veer me off course. And, on those days (thankfully, becoming rarer and rarer) when I give in and I don’t get the writing done, and I feel guilty and angry for not writing, she always pops up on those days, too. She is filled with those same excuses for why I did not put time into my most meaningful work. She always wants to blame everything else in the world but my own decisions. She is like the other woman who did not get a pass for yoga class.

She has taught me: only by taking responsibility for my own actions, can I change them. Only by recognizing when I am making excuses can I put the brakes on the excuse-train. And only by truthfully assessing my old habits can I build new, better habits.

In a recent podcast with Arch Street Press, Dr. Douglass Jackson, founder of Project C.U.R.E., says, “Figure out what gets you so excited that it gets you up out of bed, puts your feet on the floor, and you just can’t wait to get back to it.”

Writing has always been that something to me. Now, my habits are reflecting this, too.

Ever since that week when I was too late to get a pass, I arrive to yoga class half an hour early. That early, I always am able to get a pass. I walk into the yoga room and lay out my mat on the smooth wooden floor. I have my pick of places in the room. And then I go ride the exercise bike or run on the elliptical machine until it is time for class to begin. Instead of feeling guilty and upset, I feel empowered.

I think that is one of the best ways to feel in our creative lives and our work lives and our personal lives and our whole lives: empowered.

And the best part of all? It is in our power, every single day, to create that feeling for ourselves.

my health heroes

Earlier this month I received an email from the American Recall Center, “a brand new website devoted to providing health and wellness news in simple, straightforward terms.” They say their ultimate goal is to help their readers take complete charge of their health by being fully informed!

They asked me if I would be interested in participating in their “Who Keeps you Healthy?” campaign by answering the question, “Who is your Health Hero?”

I immediately wrote back, “Of course!” I’ve spent the past couple weeks thinking about the question, and I’ve decided it’s too hard for me to pick just one person. I’m extremely fortunate to have multiple Health Heroes: my family!

Running-Santa-Clarita-Marathon-720x1024My dad inspires me every day with his determination and perseverance. In addition to running many marathons including Boston, he is a “running streaker” and has run at least three miles every single day since July 7, 2003 — that’s nearly 4,000 days! He keeps track of his streak and writes about running on his website.

My mom inspires me with her commitment to cooking nutritious meals, eating a healthful whole-foods diet, and making time for exercise even when she is busy. She has run many marathons and goes running in the morning before work, and walks twice a day with Mr. Mur-dog. She is truly a strong woman inside and out, and is my favorite gym buddy — she always encourages me to do one more rep on the weight machines! And, longtime blog readers may remember, my mom and I climbed Mt. Whitney together back in 2003.

me and mom at top

Trojan_Invite_2011My brother inspires me with his dedication to exercise and being healthy, even in the midst of a super-busy academic and work schedule; he is a student in USC’s MBA program, works part-time in the USC Athletic Office, and serves as a leader of multiple student and volunteer groups. Yet he still makes time to run multiple times a week and is even taking part in a meditation course this semester. He inspires me to be healthy and happy in mind and spirit in addition to my physical body.

The more I thought about Health Heroes, the more my list grew:

  • My grandparents, all in their eighties, go on walks nearly every day. My Gramps rides the stationary bike every morning while watching the news. My Grandpap still plays golf occasionally and my Grandma plays bridge every week to keep her mind sharp.
  • My Aunt Annie does Pilates multiple times a week and my Aunt Mary goes to super-early-morning cycling class at the gym before work.
  • My friends {both in real life and the blogosphere} have inspired many healthy adoptions that are now a part of my daily routine: my yoga practice, my morning breakfast smoothies, my lunchtime salads, my nighttime meditation ritual, even trying new things like zumba!
  • My cousins inspire me to remember to have FUN exercising and moving my body, because isn’t that what it’s all about?

family

I feel so fortunate to have so many Health Heroes in my life who motivate me to stay true to my own goals for a healthy, happy, fulfilled life!

Question of the day:

  • Who are your Health Heroes?

mt. whitney wednesday: the descent

Hi everyone! This post is part of my series the Mt. Whitney chronicles, which is comprised of journal entries from when I climbed Mt. Whitney, the tallest mountain in the contiguous United States, ten years ago. If you missed the earlier post in the series, you can read them here.

mt whitney chronicles

Saturday, July 26, 6:37 p.m.

My legs are aching and shaking. My hiking boots seem made of lead. My shoulders need an hour massage and my neck needs acupuncture treatment. My feet feel like I am walking barefoot on hot blacktop. Every step is a challenge.

And yet I feel wonderful. For now, at least, none of the pain matters. We have made it back down to Whitney Portal, to the beginning – and end – of the trail. Our journey has come full circle. We did it. We really did it!

The descent felt longer than the trip up – even though it was two hours shorter – probably because we didn’t have the anticipation and excitement of going up. My goal was to reach the summit – I didn’t even allow myself to think about the 11 miles I had to hike back down the mountain.

After five hours of hiking down, when we were so close to the end and yet still somehow so far away; when we could see the tiny distant parking lot of Whitney Portal where our car with the nice cushioned seats was waiting for us and it seemed if only we had longer arms we could just reach down through the trees and touch it; when I had been awake for fifteen hours and hiking for eleven, and I just wanted to collapse in the middle of the trail and go to sleep; it was then I started to wish we were finished already.

But the trip down was great in its own way. I tried to enjoy the beautiful scenery, and revel in the feeling of accomplishment.  Before too long we reached the half-mile mark we had hiked to yesterday, and before much longer we could see the path winding down to the parking lot below us.

Striding down that last step of the trail, I felt like an astronaut taking her first step back on Earth after a trip to the moon. I had actually made it to the top of Whitney and back again. And I have pictures for proof! I can’t wait to get the film developed and show my friends. Mom thankfully saved a few shots and a fellow hiker took our picture by the trailhead, and we bought some postcards and souvenir T-shirts from the nearby Mt. Whitney store. Other hikers smiled at us wearily with looks that said, “Congratulations!” and we smiled back, “You too!” Sinking down into the front seat of the car, I had never felt so tired and yet so happy at the same time. Mom said she felt the same way after childbirth.

As we drove away, winding down the narrow road, I looked back through the car window at the tallest mountain in the contiguous United States with the same awe and reverence I felt when I saw it for the first time. It is hard to believe that just a few hours ago, I was up at the top of that mountain. It was like a whole different world, like a dream. A dream that came true.

day before hike day

Sunday, July 27, Early

We said farewell to Lone Pine this morning and arrived back home this afternoon. It was fun driving past mountain after mountain and being able to say, “We climbed higher than that mountain! And that one! And that one!”

I slept for much of the car ride home, even though the first thing I did last night after taking a long, hot shower and wolfing down three slices of extra cheesy pizza was conk out the minute my head hit the pillow. Usually I have trouble sleeping in hotel rooms, but not last night! I guess hiking twenty-two miles is a good cure for insomnia.

It was wonderful to arrive home, with a “CONGRATULATIONS!” banner on the front door and my dad and brother waiting inside. Yet a part of me misses the wild beauty and freedom of the mountains, the quaint little Lone Pine diners, even the John Wayne memorabilia.

I brought down from Mount Whitney’s summit a small granite stone, a keepsake reminder of something less tangible that I also brought with me: a strengthened belief in myself and the confidence I can face my fears and accomplish whatever I set my mind to. It is a lesson I will carry with me, wherever my travels take me next. Even back at sea level, I still feel like I’m on top of the world.

whitney mountains

mt. whitney wednesday: on top of the world

Hi everyone! This post is part of my series the Mt. Whitney chronicles, which is comprised of journal entries from when I climbed Mt. Whitney, the tallest mountain in the contiguous United States, ten years ago. If you missed the earlier post in the series, you can read them here.

mt whitney chronicles

Saturday, July 26, 12:16 p.m.

Oh! My! Goodness! I have climbed a granite stairway to heaven. Eight hours and a dozen blisters after we set forth in the cold darkness, I am enjoying the same lofty view Clarence King had more than 125 years earlier.

on top of mt whitney

I am standing atop the highest mountain in the contiguous United States. It took us nearly two hours to get here from Trail Crest, much longer than I expected it would. These last two miles of trail seemed to go on and on and on – I would swear it was a full six miles. Indeed, a mountain sheep would have trouble with the footing on the final two miles to the summit. Add in air so rarefied it makes lungs gasp and heads ache, and each step becomes a challenge. The altitude is definitely exacting a toll as I have had a constant dull headache for the past few hours now.

Another reason we traveled so slowly over this final section is because the trail has become so terribly rugged – we had to climb over huge boulders and cross very rocky terrain, with cliffs dropping hundreds of feet only a few steps away on each side of us. There are no guard rails or ropes as guides, and needless to say I was very grateful for my walking stick. Precarious as it was, I knew I had come so far and trained so hard and had already done so much more than I ever thought I could do, that I never once thought of turning back. The only option in my mind was proudly reaching the top.

This was by far the most trying and difficult part of the whole hike for me. To be so close you could see Whitney’s peak, and yet so far it seemed like you would never get there, was pure torture. The only thing to do was keep going, one step in front of the other, but after a mile or so of this two-mile leg, I began to think that maybe the trail would never end.

And then we saw it. The summit!

The last 400 meters of the trail are a slight uphill to the peak of the mountain. But now you can see the Summit Hut beckoning you along, like a lighthouse guiding ships safely into harbor. After what felt like an eternity, we finally reached it.

Groups of weary hikers lounged around on slabs of rock, taking pictures and having lunch and enjoying the breathtaking view. I signed my name in the Mt. Whitney Summit Book, then pretended to again because Mom wanted to take my picture. She looked like a child with her very first camera, deliriously snapping photos of anything and everything merely for the joy of hearing the shutter click. I smiled at her, glad she had saved some film as I had kept teasing her to do, and also knowing no amount of pictures would ever do Whitney’s summit justice. It’s just something you have to see and experience for yourself.

signing the book

I walked around, soaking in the “Inn,” as Cervantes put it, of our journey. Clouds were obscuring some of the view, but it was still incredible to look down from this castle in the sky.

Unlike Clarence King, Mom and I took a cell phone to the summit. Enjoying this rocky mountain, I call my dad and talk to him in exclamation points.

“Hi Dad! We made it! I’m at the summit right now! It’s soooo beautiful up here! I feel like I’m on the top of the world!

“It’s breathtaking,” I add, intending no altitude pun.

My dad tells me it is breathtaking to hear me, because he remembers a time I needed breathing tubes when I was born 3 months prematurely weighing a sickly 2 pounds, 6 ounces.

“She’s a fighter,” the doctor told him back then when my fragile life hung in the balance daily, and the doctor was right. With a personal mantra of P.A.S.T. – Preemies Are So Tough – I have now become a conqueror of Mt. Whitney.

I say goodbye on the phone to Dad, and chased by approaching thunderclouds after just 20 minutes of rest, we began our six-hour, 11-mile descent.

me and mom at top

mt. whitney wednesday: the infamous 97 switchbacks

Hi everyone! This post is part of my series the Mt. Whitney chronicles, which is comprised of journal entries from when I climbed Mt. Whitney, the tallest mountain in the contiguous United States, ten years ago. If you missed the earlier post in the series, you can read them here.

mt whitney chronicles

Saturday, July 26, 9:02 a.m.

We have reached “Trail Camp” where hikers climbing Whitney in two days camp out overnight. It is a lot quieter up here, as desolate and barren as I imagine Mars to be. The surroundings have turned from the greens of foliage and trees to the browns and grays of rock. Finally, it actually feels like I’m climbing a mountain!

We take a short break for water and food before shouldering our packs and starting up again. Trail Camp is at the base of the switchbacks. The infamous switchbacks. There are, by actual count, 97 switchbacks covering 2.2 steep-and-jagged miles leading from Trail Camp with an elevation of 12,000 feet to Trail Crest with an elevation of 13,777 feet.

The ankle-twisting switchbacks are daunting. Those who have conquered Whitney say they are the most difficult part of the whole climb. The mountain rises above us, so immense I can’t even imagine it having a summit. Slowly we start up the first switchback, then turn and head up the second. One down, 96 more to go.

switchbacks

10:13 a.m.

Ninety-six down – trust me, I counted each and every one! – and only one more to go. Woo-hoo!

I can’t believe it. We made it up the switchbacks in only an hour! I thought it would surely take us twice that long. The switchbacks were hard, to be certain, and long and boring, but I was actually surprised to see the welcoming “Trail Crest” sign as soon as we did. I guess you get into a sort of rhythm, trudging up, up, up the mountain, one foot in front of the other, your breathing heavy and even, taking each switchback as it comes, and time goes by almost as if you are in a trance. The fun part about the switchbacks is that you feel like you really are climbing a mountain – you can look down and see the trail winding away below you, like a giant snake.

Mom and I are in our highest spirits, I think, of the whole hike so far. The rest of trail cannot be nearly so steep as the rocky and uneven staircase we just climbed. And we are only two miles away from the summit! We are so close to the top I feel as excited in anticipation as a 5-year-old on Christmas Eve night.

at trail crest

mt. whitney wednesday: lone pine lake to mirror lake

Hi everyone! This post is part of my series the Mt. Whitney chronicles, which is comprised of journal entries from when I climbed Mt. Whitney, the tallest mountain in the contiguous United States, ten years ago. If you missed the earlier post in the series, you can read them here.

mt whitney chronicles

Saturday, July 26, 6:04 a.m.

Dawn slowly approaches and we stop at Lone Pine Lake to rest and turn our headlamps off. Sunrise on the trail was one of the prettiest sights I have seen, rivaling even a summer sunset over the rim of the Grand Canyon. It is indeed a “Kodak moment,” yet Julianna was right: a picture could never do this justice. It is something you just have to see – and feel in your soul – for yourself.

We have gone 2.5 miles — less than nine miles more to the top. It seemed like we were going at a fairly brisk pace, and yet it has taken us two hours to go just over two miles. I try not to get discouraged; maybe we will get into a faster rhythm as daylight arrives. Not that speed is of the essence. I think of the famous quote by Cervantes: “The journey is better than the inn.” I want to enjoy this journey, and we left so early we have plenty of time to do so.

Yet it is also overwhelming to think about hiking for another twelve hours, another twenty miles, to complete the roundtrip journey. I try not to dwell on it, and instead focus on enjoying the postcard scenery. Mom brought two new disposable cameras, and she takes lots of pictures. I playfully tell her she had better save some film for the summit! We don’t want to be like my funny Uncle Doug, who always comes back from fishing trips bragging about the big trout he caught – without any proof.

me and mom on trail

6:47 a.m.

We have reached the first camp, “Outpost Camp.” According to my map, we have traveled 3.5 miles and are at an elevation of 10,365 feet – meaning we must still climb more than 4,000 feet in elevation to reach the top. I am grateful Mom and I took medicine for altitude sickness before we left; I don’t feel nauseous, but I do still have a bit of a headache despite the medicine. I drink lots of water, even though I am embarrassed about having to go to the bathroom in the wilderness. Mom laughs and says doing your business outside just proves you are a true hiker.

Speaking of bathrooms, at Outpost Camp we get to use the first of the two “solar toilets” provided along the trail for hikers. It is like a “Porta Potty” except it has some sort of solar device at the top that supposedly uses energy from the sun to compact the waste. A good idea, indeed . . .

. . . but, as we found out firsthand, very, very smelly. In fact, it was THE most disgusting bathrooms I have ever been in! I had to hold my breath. Two things are certain: I will never again complain about the bathrooms at school, for they are heavenly compared to this. And I won’t be embarrassed anymore about doing my business out in the fresh-smelling sunshine of the wild!

8:18 a.m.

We passed by Mirror Lake, which is the four-mile mark, and the trail turned from dirt to rock. The trail has also become much steeper here at the timberline – trees are fewer and farther between, and the landscape is more barren and desolate. I look around and see mountains rising above us on all sides.

We hike pretty much in silence, each of us consumed by our own thoughts. The only sounds are our heavy, even breathing and slow, trudging footsteps up the trail. Occasionally a bird calls out.

From time to time we encounter other hikers; some have given up and turned around, others have made it to the top, camped out, and are making their descent. The latter are always very happy and inspire me to keep going – if they can do it, we can too. Everyone we meet is friendly and encouraging, and we sometimes stop and swap hiking stories and hometowns while taking a drink of water. Then we wish each other good luck and continue our separate ways.

We have reached Trailside Meadow and take a short food break. Even though it is still fairly early in the morning (at least for a teenager like me who likes to sleep in on summer days!) we have been up so long that it seems like lunchtime. I snack on bagels and trail mix while Mom takes more pictures.

The meadow here is so heavenly, more like a stream bordered with flowers than a meadow. There is a gorgeous waterfall flowing down some nearby rocks, fed by melting snow up on the mountain. It is growing warm out now and I take off my outer jacket and replace my beanie with my favorite baseball cap.

trailside meadows

mt. whitney wednesday: the big day begins!

Hi everyone! This post is part of my Mt. Whitney chronicles, which is comprised of journal entries from when I climbed Mt. Whitney, the tallest mountain in the contiguous United States, ten years ago. If you missed any earlier posts in the series, they are all archived here.

mt whitney chronicles

Saturday, July 26, 3:52 a.m.

My alarm went off at 2:30 this morning. I don’t think I have ever woken up this early in my entire life, yet I was surprised to find I wasn’t really that tired. Nervous energy and adrenaline pumped through my veins as I pulled on my hiking boots and shouldered my backpack filled with enough water to get a camel across the Sahara.

I took one last look at the warm hotel room before closing the door behind me and following Mom down the darkened corridor. I wonder if I will return triumphant and proud, or despondent and defeated by the mountain? I tell myself it will be the former!

We met Stacey and some of the others in our climbing party at the hotel where they were staying. As we huddled in front of the cars in the parking lot, waiting while a few of them did a final check to make sure they hadn’t forgotten anything, I was reminded of a group of teenage girls preparing to go TP-ing on a slumber party night: nervous, excited, and taking a little breathless comfort in the thought that, whatever happens, we are all in this together.

We drove up to the Whitney Portal in a small caravan of cars. The road is uncomfortably narrow, so it is reassuring to have another car in front of you to follow. It is so pitch black outside once you leave the few lights of Lone Pine behind. Driving along and looking up at the mountain we are about to climb, with the twinkling stars the only light in the sky, and our feeble headlights only illuminating a small section of the ground ahead, I have never felt so small and yet so big, so alone and yet so connected, so wise and yet so utterly clueless, all at the same time.

We parked and headed up to the trailhead. Most of the stars are blocked out by the towering mountain and the surrounding trees, and it is so dark I literally cannot see my hand in front of my face. It is cold, too; biting cold, and I’m glad for my fleece gloves and warm wool beanie. Mom helps me put my headlamp on, which is basically a flashlight mounted to a headband. When she bought it a month ago at one of the hiking stores I thought it was one of the silliest, dorkiest things I had ever seen, but now I’m grateful for the steady beam of light it provides, revealing the trail ahead.

We start out, talking softly and stepping quickly, full of energy, excitement and nervousness. If I turn and look behind me, the steady line of my teammate hikers, each with a headlamp firmly positioned on her forehead, looks oddly like a group of miners. It makes me think of Snow White And The Seven Dwarfs.

“Hi ho, hi ho! It’s off to the peak of Mount Whitney we go!” We slip through the silent night, a flurry of boots and beams of light. The woods behind us are quiet, and the mountain ahead is darker than the back side of the moon.

the whitney group

A group shot a couple hours into the hike, once the sun has risen.

mt. whitney wednesday: the day before “the big day”

Hi everyone! This post is part of my Mt. Whitney chronicles, which is comprised of journal entries from when I climbed Mt. Whitney, the tallest mountain in the contiguous United States, ten years ago. If you missed any earlier posts in the series, they are all archived here.

mt whitney chronicles

Friday, July 25, 2003. 2:43 p.m.
Mom and I left our nice, warm home in Ventura at 10 a.m. to depart on the four-hour drive to the quaint little town of Lone Pine, made famous in the hiking world because of its close proximity to Mt. Whitney. Surprisingly, it seems most Lone-Piners take for granted the tallest mountain in the continental United States that watches over their little town. They take more pride in the fact that John Wayne used to film some of his famous Westerns here. There are pictures of The Duke adorning the walls of just about every restaurant and hotel lobby we see.

When I told my friends I was going away for the weekend to climb Mt. Whitney, they laughed incredulously and said I’m insane. “Uh, Dallas, you do know that’s a huge mountain, right?” one asked. I replied that yes, I do know, and I promised to bring back pictures from the top. My friends just don’t understand that I am a real hiker now; I have been preparing for months. I am ready for this challenge. Game on, Whitney!

Mom, however, is not as confident. Even though she has run a handful of marathons, she confides to me: “I have doubts I’ll be able to make it to the top. If I have to stop, you go on without me.”

“We’ll make it together,” I say, and I mean it.

3:13 p.m.
We checked into our hotel room and drove up to the Whitney Portal, otherwise known as the trailhead, or start, of the Mt. Whitney trail. Since it will still be dark in the wee hours tomorrow morning when we make the drive up to the Portal, Mom wants to do it in the daylight today so we will have an idea of where we are going and hopefully won’t get lost. With a one-day hike, we can’t afford to have our start delayed. A few members of our group are camping at the Portal and we’re planning to take a short hike with them this afternoon, to see the trail and get our legs moving after the long car ride.

As we started driving along the road towards the Portal, we noticed dark, ominous clouds brewing ahead. Mt. Whitney is notorious for its sudden thunderstorms, especially in summer. On the hike tomorrow we want to reach the top of the mountain by noon, because that will hopefully give us enough time to get back down below the timberline before the storms roll in up at the top, typically around two or three o’clock.

The rain came quickly, going from a light drizzle to a heavy downpour in a matter of minutes. We kept driving cautiously, the windshield wipers working overtime, when suddenly lightning cracked in the distance and thunder boomed. Looking up at the grim, threatening mountains looming ahead of us, the lightning flashing around their peaks like menacing signs from the heavens, I wondered if my friends are right. Maybe I am insane. What person in their right mind would hike up that mountain, to the very place where the storm was thrashing its hardest? This is nothing like our training hikes. I felt like a toddler forced to go straight from a tricycle to a twelve-gear mountain bike with no steps in between.

I looked at Mom, and she looked at me. Without a word, she turned the car around and we drove to a nearby restaurant billed as “John Wayne’s Favorite Lone Pine Diner!” for a late lunch.

4:02 p.m.
We stepped outside the restaurant to find the storm had stopped and the sun was out again. The regular inhabitants of Lone Pine were going about their business as if storms like that come up without warning all the time, and I guess here they probably do. Calmer in both mind and spirit, Mom and I got into the car and began the fifteen-minute drive up to Whitney Portal again. It seemed like a totally different road and a totally different mountain range looming ahead than it had an hour ago. The mountains were still intimidating (to say the least), but now they didn’t look so evil and threatening without the dark skies and lightning crackling around them.

day before the hike

We met the rest of the group up at the trailhead and hiked the first half-mile or so of the trail. It is a nice trail, at least the part we did, well-marked and treaded by the feet of countless other hikers. It is amazing to think about the thousands and thousands of hikers that have walked on this very trail in the century that people have been climbing Mt. Whitney.

It was so neat to see the hikers coming down the trail who had made it to the top of Whitney today. They all looked so weary, yet also so happy. I hope that will be us tomorrow!

8:11 p.m.
Mom and I had a carbo-loaded dinner and are getting ready for bed. Our backpacks are all packed except for our water bottles frozen in the cooler. Our hiking clothes are laid out and ready. My friends would laugh if they knew I was going to bed at 8 p.m., but we have to wake up very early in the morning and need to get some sleep. But somehow I don’t think it really matters what time I go to bed – I don’t know how I’ll be able to sleep tonight! I am so nervous for the big day tomorrow.

mt. whitney wednesday: training progress!

Hi everyone! This post is part of my series the Mt. Whitney chronicles, which is comprised of journal entries from when I climbed Mt. Whitney, the tallest mountain in the contiguous United States, ten years ago. If you missed the earlier post in the series, you can read them here.

mt whitney chronicles

Sunday, June 22, 2003

We went on an eight-mile hike today, our longest thus far. And — guess what? — I actually felt pretty good! There was a lot of steep uphill, and I was breathing hard, but I was able to keep going at a fairly fast pace and my legs weren’t as sore as they usually are. I can feel myself getting stronger. Plus the wildflowers were in bloom and the sky was a gorgeous, clear blue, and I felt truly in touch with nature. There is something about hiking up to a deserted clearing, and looking out at the greens and browns and blues of the world below you, and breathing in the crisp, cold mountain air that just makes you feel so alive.

Saturday, July 5

It’s still three weeks until our summit attempt of Mt. Whitney, but Mom is already starting to get all our supplies ready. We are taking two medium-sized backpacks, each filled with enough food and water to feed a family of five! But I guess it’s good to be prepared. As Mom always says, “Better safe than sorry — or thirsty!” The last thing we need is to be stuck on Whitney without enough provisions.

However, as I learned firsthand, water is heavy. Today I loaded up my backpack and put it on to test the weight … and I nearly fell over backwards! How am I ever going to carry that thing twenty-two miles?? At least it will gradually get lighter as I eat and drink during the journey.

Saturday, July 19

Today we went on our last real training hike. We will taper off this week to allow our bodies to recover and build up energy for the real thing. It’s crazy to think that at this very time next week, we’ll be climbing Mt. Whitney! We’ve been preparing for so long, yet I can’t believe The Big Day is almost here.

my first time doing zumba!

zumba!

On Wednesday, I went to my first-ever zumba class after my friend Emily invited me to join her at a local dance studio. I had never tried zumba before, though I had heard plenty of great things about it. All I knew was that it was supposed to be fast-paced, fun, and involved dancing.

I was a little nervous {and a lot intimidated} because while I enjoy dancing with groups of friends, I’ve never had much rhythm. Pretty much the only dancing I do on a regular basis is morning pajama dancing with Mr. Mur-dog:

dancing murray

Have any of you done zumba before? Any zumba novices like me out there? Here are some questions I had before my first zumba class, followed by answers based on my experience:

What is zumba?
Zumba is a Latin-inspired dance-fitness program that blends red-hot international music and fun, heart-pumping dance steps to form a “fitness-party.” The website of the local zumba center I attended has a great breakdown of the different types of zumba: http://venturazumba.com/ventura-zumba-about/

What should I wear to do zumba?
I wore capri yoga pants, a sports bra and t-shirt, and running shoes. Wearing some sort of athletic shoes is a must, and I would also advise you wear clothes that you feel comfortable in! You will get HOT and sweat a lot! Some other participants were wearing shorts and one woman wore a loose-fitting skirt.

What if I don’t know any of the dance moves?
Many of the dance moves were super easy to catch on to. You can also look up zumba videos on youtube if you want to do a little research before you go! The inevitable times in class when I felt a little lost, I just danced in place myself. The important thing is to keep moving, keep smiling, and keep having fun! After class, Emily and I asked the instructor for clarification on a couple moves we were confused about. She sweetly showed us, and she said that the easiest way to learn all the moves is to keep coming to class — you get better and more comfortable each week.

What if I feel self-conscious about dancing?
This was what I was most worried about — I’m a little bit a lot awkward on the dance floor, and I was worried that I would totally embarrass myself {not to mention my friend Emily!} and feel self-conscious the whole time. I pictured myself turning the wrong way and bumping into people. But once the class started, I didn’t feel self-conscious at all. Everyone is so focused on their own moves and on the instructor that nobody is paying attention to your dance moves. I tried to copy what the instructor was doing, and in my own pretty little head I was busting moves like Beyonce!

Is zumba a good workout?
YES! Your heart is pumping, your muscles are working, you are sweating like crazy! In the class I went to, we did a ton of squats as well as dance moves that worked our arms and shoulders. I woke up and was so sore the next morning! Definitely a sign of a good workout. Plus, the time flew by — it was the most fun I’ve had working out in a long time.

zumba

If you try a zumba class and aren’t thrilled, my advice would be to try again with a different instructor. {Actually, that would be my advice for any type of exercise class you try out!} I felt comfortable with our instructor immediately — she was funny, high-energy, and very encouraging. She also created a very welcoming space for beginners so it was the perfect class for me. Emily has done zumba before, and she said some of the other instructors are more fast-paced or less explanatory; every instructor has their own style. I feel like I lucked out on the ideal instructor for me.

Em and I have set a weekly zumba date for Wednesday mornings. I’m already looking forward to next week!

Happy Friday, everyone! Be kind to yourself and do something fun today!