Wildcat Ridge Romp 2014

Making Friends With The Trail

Sometimes you have to go out on a limb, both literally and figuratively, way out of your comfort zone and intentionally make friends with a trail. 

The first time I participated in the Wildcat Ridge Romp, (a consortium of doable to devilish lengths of races from 10 miles to 100K put on by my sadomasochist friends Rick and Jennifer McNulty who own the wildly successful  NJ Trail Series), I vowed to never to do it again. Each of the three times that I've done the course, I've spooked myself into believing that I was hearing imaginary black bears growling and snakes hissing at me during the first mile. (Each time, it was only the sound of large rocks rolling downhill that had been loosened by my heavy and clumsy plodding uphill.)

At the outset, the course (comprised of fire roads, old horse-carriage trails, ATV trails and  apparently dirt-bike trails, too) brings you rather quickly into a dark and cool but ugly, garbage strewn section of the Wildcat Ridge WMA. You descend into what I recently discovered used to be an actual village. In fact, if you look closely, there are ruins of a few structure that had been built with cement blocks. Although this WMA had once been the location of a string of the iron mines collectively known as the Hibernia Mine, the debris tells a different, more recent story--perhaps of transients living in anarchy...

One of several garbage-strewn areas in the WMA

I wondered what had possessed people to dump trash in the midst of what should be pristine forest. There are tires, cars with mangled parts, empty faded plastic pails, dried-up water-logged paper, broken glass, rusted steel barrels, decaying clothes, and other remnants of a marginal human existence. This offended my aesthetic sensibilities and my expectation to be perpetually wowed by nature and humans' supposed desire to keep the forest as it should be.  I hated the course immediately. At this point you still have about 9 miles to complete the 10 mile-loop. What would the rest of the course look like? It could only improve, right?  It did, for a while. There were also impeccable sections like this--

Luther Vandross and the shade of Cimmeria

The course winds along through a combination of densely carpeted forest floor, full of ferns, thick grasses and vines, the sometimes unmarked trails widening into rocky, chingoncito filled paths. And then there's this--

Two sections of dark and spooky hollows, one just a few shades lighter than the other. The first is an area so heavily jam-packed with 7-8 foot tall flora whose overhanging branches and leaves succeed in snagging and holding on to your running cap, multiple times.  And then the course takes you through the McNultian idea of a cruel trail joke (because there is certainly another trail we could be running on, right?) You continue on, or in my case run-creeping along, hoping that the worst is over when a dark, tunnel-like entry into what seems to be a parallel underworld comes into view. There is no way out, no escaping. (Insert Halloween-themed scream here.) No choice but to move forward, singing Luther Vandross songs at the top of my lungs. Did I care about other folks hearing the obvious fear in my loud rendition of Dance with my Father? It was singing Luther Vandross, or dying of fear. I chose Luther. 

Into the depths of Cimmeria

As you enter this verdantly green hell, you see a cleared out space under the huge low-hanging tree/bush complete with low benches arranged in a semi-circle. Obviously there are people who use this space for what? Meetings of the nefarious kind? Hope not. Again the trees play jokes on you, swiping your running cap again and laughing quietly. I stopped, faced the Cimmerian shade and spoke aloud,  "My hat, please. Thank you." Fortunately the tree did not speak back, and I felt comforted in having had the cojones to stop and face the darkness. If you are running more than one loop, you have to do it all over again, and it is no less harrowing. 

The course then becomes a bit more traditional, with occasional technical bits and some pretty awesome single-track. And then there is a clearing out of the brush and a vista from atop a rock outcropping with a stunningly clear view of the New Jersey Skylands and in the distance, a faint stenciling of the the New York City skyline. I stood and looked out over Northern New Jersey, a little wistful and nostalgic (I moved to Appalachia exactly a year ago, the day after my second Wildcat Ridge Romp) and then tackled the next section of the course, a mostly down-hill gravel road. 

Every trail has to have a body of water that sort of creeps you out.  After the aid station, you pass by Beaver Pond, which I have sometimes referred to as Creepy Pond. There is an abundance of bull-frogs, small beaver dams, and areas packed with lily-pads. This year, the weather was absolutely clear and no fog lifted from the water, Narnia-like, but it was no less creepy. Save for the human-like conversations of bullfrogs, no other sounds emanated from this small expanse of still water, my heavy breathing notwithstanding.

So now I need Parkour lessons?

In October of 2012, Super-storm Sandy wreaked havoc in most of New Jersey, downing trees and power lines, flooding homes along the shore, forcing people out of work and school. The Wildcat Ridge WMA was not immune to the effects of the storm and so suffered a plethora of downed trees, many coming to rest in the middle of major trails. During the summer of 2013, the Rompers would have to climb over several downed trees, much to my dismay. I remember thinking aloud, well, very loudly, "Does Rick think I'm gonna climb over these trees? DAMMIT RICK!" And so I climbed, balancing precariously on large and small limbs, jumping down, feeling like a badass until we had to do it again, several times. This year, the trails had been cleared, much to my personal delight!

After several steep ascents and subsequent descents in a boulder field there is Beaver Brook that you have to cross in order to continue on the course that will eventually skirt by the edge of Splitrock Reservoir. I pranceth not, but others do. Many runners skipped, hopped and jumped Parkour-like over the boulders and slippery rocks. I, on the other hand, calculated every single step with the precision of an engineer for fear of falling face first in the water. After crossing, the course hangs a left and travels in a fairly straight path the to dam, from which a large pipe gently releases water from the reservoir. In years past, Rompers scaled the rocky side of the damn onto Split Rock Road. This year, however, we had to climb over the the area where the water flowed from the pipe. Jumping over but not completely clearing the warm, slightly fishy smelling rivulet and then climbing on painful gravel and concrete blocks, bypassing the road that was under repair.

It's all downhill from here, kind of.

After you scale the dam, you ascend and then descend onto power-cut land, electrical energy frenetically buzzing above and around you. The trail is rolling for a mile or so, and then it joins what used to be a the Oreland Branch Railroad at a slight and very pleasing grade for the next two miles or so. At the end of this section, you travel onto a residential road (downhill!) with big houses and loud dogs before re-entering the forest to rejoining the trail lollipop style to complete the 10 mile loop.

This is not a trail race in which you can zone out, running neatly trimmed single-track trails with few surprises or challenges. This course challenges everything possible--your senses and sensibilities, fears, training. There is a sort of primal quality to it that, while it isn't for everyone--especially those new to trail-running, inspires you to appreciate those trails that are not fantastically weird or scary. You must extend your hands, feet, and heart in friendship to the forest, and it in turn, will befriend you.

Power-cuttin' it up

Selfie-Affirmation

Why I "SELFIE"


In my narcissistic, non-scientific, and self-aggrandizing opinion, I have come to the conclusion that the act of taking a daily "selfie" can help a person be in constant practice of self-affirmation. There are indeed many people who have jumped off the deep-end, snapping photos of their mostly naked selves with oddly puckered lips in that most glamorous of odorous places, the loo. But there are also many folks who do it just because they wish to share the incredible joy of their experiences with friends and family. 
I selfie every day that I run or do something that challenges my big, strong body. Sometimes I am alone, and other times I am with a group of people, both new friends and old. Sometimes I am in the midst of a particularly challenging exploit, and I will take a photo to remind myself that what I am doing is supposed to be hard, and I am actually doing it. I want my circles of family and friends to know what I've been up to, and how I look, even when the photo is not at all flattering. I want them to know that if there is something that inspires and motivates them, that they should do it and snap photos of themselves doing that difficult thing, too. 

The process of/road to self-acceptance and self-love is a long one, and one that requires a commitment to loving yourself (and spreading that love to others) no matter how you perceive yourself that moment, day, or year. 

The puritanical practice of self-devaluation and self-deprecation at the expense of a healthy sense of self (but not overblown ego) is obsolete and useless for our times. This is not to say that we shouldn't love others, rather, in order to love others, we must love ourselves first. This is especially important as women. It is a dangerous thing to be completely self-less. What will you have to give if you have not given anything to yourself? A quick photo doesn't cost the money of therapy or lipo, so I choose this. Why NOT present ourselves in the way we want to be presented? We might actually start believing that we are as awesome as our pics suggest.

I also selfie to remind myself that although I still have a long way to go in my quest for overall physical, spiritual, and mental health, I'm doing OKAY right now. I am satisfied if a little impatient with my progress, but overall content.

Along with the selfies I post on Facebook, I usually post a pic of where I am so that others can appreciate the natural beauty of where I get to live out my life. It is gorgeous where I live in Georgia, and it is also beautiful in the places that I have been fortunate to run in. This, for me, is my most humble (and technologically savvy) expression of gratitude for being able to simply be myself and no one else. Being able to record the awesomeness of living, and what life has given me is a gift that I hope to pay-forward with the joy that I hope is expressed in my photos. Of me.

Zaftig Sisters, Dress Your Curves (And Then RUN)

Coming Downhill at the Nanthala Hilly Half Marathon-Photo by Martin Kratzer  Nike Long Sleeved Top, UA Compression Capris, RRS Drymas Socks, Altra Olympus Shoes, Nathan Vapor Cloud Hydration Pack, MC Maia Bra   

 

Many of us larger ladies have some issues finding workout clothing that is 1) comfortable and 2) does not make us feel (or look) like a link of brats that is about to explode, or a bear in a big, ugly tent.  This is a major conundrum that must be dealt with or it might cause us to have an excuse to not get out there and be badass as we should be doing everyday.

I have had constant issues with finding comfortable, non-pinching and cinching outfits that make me feel and look good. When you can wear something that feels awesome on you, you kind of exude awesomeness. Although compared to say, 10 years ago, the offerings have increased a hundred-fold, but there are still not enough retailers and designers who keep us curvy folks in mind when creating beautiful, functional, and sport-specific lines of clothing. I would love to be able to pop into Lululemon (you know, the brand that isn't made for our bodies) and magically fit into some oh-so-beautiful-sleek-and-form-fitting-compression-tights and jackets but apparently that is not going to happen anytime soon, or ever.

Some companies have made a concerted effort to provide affordable and flattering sports clothing for us-Old Navy, Champion and some big name brands like Adidas and Nike are the first that come to mind--but I have found that the durability of those products is not on par with their contemporaries. Do they expect us not to jump up and down, or move? Do they know that things jiggle and cause pants and shirts and to bunch up, fall down, get stuck under my tummy, and/or cause wedgies? DON'T THEY KNOW?

I made the decision a while back to embrace my curves, wear form-fitting workout clothing that actually fits, and to look at myself in the mirror every single day and think at least one positive thought. This has made me appreciate my body in clothes. But it takes the right clothes--you know, pieces that don't look like you're in a parachute, or hot air balloon....or in jail--to achieve this.

So the point of this post is--

Do yourself a huge favor and go out and get yourself some high quality workout gear. You'll be thanking yourself forever when you invest in yourself. You are already running, spinning, walking, lifting weights, skipping, doing bootcamp, lifting your kids, having sex (definitely an athletic endeavor!), working, etc...

Here's what I wear these days, both on runs and during plyometrics, lifting weights, and yoga. I hope that this will help you think about how making the right-for-you athletic clothing choices will contritbute to you feeling sexy, say when you're doing three sets of a hundred jumping jacks in a room full of chiseled bootcampers...

Bras: The absolute most important piece of attire. You may NOT buy a crappy bra. So, Champion and Ulta are out ladies, unless maybe you're an A cup, or the type that doesn't really need a heavy duty bra.  Do you like wearing two or three bras all at once? I certainly don't. After three years of wearing two bras plus a tank with a shelf bra, I made the move to Moving Comfort Bras. If you have bigger hooters like I do (I fluctuate between a D and DD), go out and buy one RIGHT NOW! Depending on the intensity of movement I'm anticipating, I wear either the Juno, Maia, or Jubralee models. They have them both in normal colors and in more, er, fun colors. These are the only sports bras I will wear, until Nike or Under Armour make really amazing bras that will last more than 20 washes.

Bottoms: I love compression shorts and compression tights. I love that they are form-fitting. I love my thighs and my calves (on most days) and I show them the love by showing them off. Perhaps this is a bit narcissistic, but I'm OK with that. Compression bottoms are pretty much all I wear during all of the seasons. There is one caveat, however. Because my thighs are thick, I have to simply accept that the shorts or tights will, at some point, RUB OUT. This is sad for several reasons. When I find a pair that I love and that I feel good in, I wear them frequently, and then they rub out. When they rub out, say during a race, there will be some nasty and painful chafing. Also, the good ones may be pricey. So these (and shoes) will likely be the most expensive pieces in your running outfits.

I've had tremendous success with Brooks Infiniti tights (even though you may have to reinforce the inner-thigh seams with another seam of your own) and Under Armour Coldgear and Hotgear. In the summer, I usually wear some version of Road Runner Sports compression shorts, but these items tend to lose shape rather quickly, and can feel somewhat loose compared to other brands. However, they don't ride up unless they're past their prime, and the waist isn't overly tight and pinching. These items are made specifically for runners.  

And here's a little secret: as a bigger lady with a little bit of a shelf-butt, I usually buy the male versions. They tend not be be low-rise or that other version of low-rise which is "mid-rise", they cover up my bum, and my legs, tummy, and everything else that needs not to be jiggling about when I'm running is held in place. Sure, there may be a little bit more fabric in the front than I'm used to in my normal clothing, but hey, a little air-conditioning never hurt anybody... The truth is, no one notices unless they're looking at your crotch. If it feels good on you, and helps you to achieve your goal, then it's worth it.

I have not yet found a comfortable, durable, pair of women's compression bottoms besides the above (maybe except for Moving Comfort's 7.5-inch compression shorts that run up to a 2X) that don't pinch my waist severely and display a hideous super-sized banana nut muffin-top, show the crack, or start inching down when I start to walk or run and then get stuck under my front love handle. This may not be the case for you, but is worth experimenting with clothes that fit, feel comfortable, and do the job whether they are marketed to men or women. Make sure that when you try anything on in a store, jump up and down, run, stretch, and contort your body in various ways to ensure that the fit works for you and your activities. No one ever wants to be surprised that the awesome deal you got on clearance at Kohl's actually is extra-low cut and see-through...that is, unless that's what you were going for.

Tops: I haven't bought a top in a MINUTE. If you do enough cool races (and you should, especially trail-races) you will probably never have to "buy" a shirt again. I have accrued enough short and long-sleeved technical tees to last several lifetimes. Some are better than others, though. If you must purchase, I'm partial to The North Face tees, just because they look AWESOME and make you feel like you're training to summit Everest, feel great on the skin, and wick away moisture as if sweat were a fleeting thought.  If you can, avoid pure cotton at all costs. Just do.

If you haven't collected dozens of t-shirts yet (and you will), Under Armour, New Balance, Gap Body, Nike, Adidas, and many other retailers make wonderful tops for the Rubenesque consumer. I personally don't like to look like a military tank or football player, so I usually go with something form-fitting or just slightly looser so I don't feel as though I'm suffocating while trying to catch my breath during a bear crawl. Remember shoulder pads? Nuff said. I also don't want all my stuff falling out and getting in the way.

Shoes: You must get fitted for a good shoe. If you are able, get yourself to a running store (and I'm not speaking of a regular athletic goods store whose employees are trying to get you to buy the most expensive pair of KDs and skater shoes.) Get a gait analysis, and then buy what's comfortable and affordable, perhaps the same or similar model on Zappos, Amazon, or Road Runner Sports, Running Warehouse or The Clymb. If you have big feet like I do (depending on the make of the shoe, I might wear an 11 or 12 women's) there are many clearance outlets and discount places like Marshalls and Nordstrom Rack that will carry our sizes. All it takes is some research. 

Another confession: I usually buy men's shoes. They just seem to fit better and last longer. That may not be what works for you, so find something that does. I currently alternate the following shoes on a daily basis: Mizuno Wave Inspire, Mizuno Wave Ascend, and Altra Olympus. Also, if you only have one pair of running shoes, it's important to save them for running. Try to stay away from wearing them to work (unless you're a cross-country/track coach, Shalane or Meb.)

Socks: Stay away from cotton and cheap polyester. Period. Unless you want blisters or extra smelly feet, invest in some quality running socks. I like the ones that have a little extra padding on the heel, arch snugness, and no bells and whistles. That's my personal preference. My current favorite running socks are Feetures. They have the right amount of everything and when you put them on, you will exhale. Promise. The other socks that I wear are Road Runner Sports Dry Max socks.

Caps and visors: I wear both, particularly when it's sunny and warm. Running caps typically have a sweat band on the inside of them and have breathable tops. I haven't found a pair of sports shades that I like hanging out on the bridge of my sweaty nose for hours on end, so until then it's a cap or a visor.

Underwear: No cotton. I've found that Gap Body, Hanes and Bali make really good stretchy but firm underwear that doesn't chafe your private areas during a long, sweaty workout. There's no need to go out and buy a special workout or activity panty unless you don't mind shelling out a wad of cash for one pair. Again, stay away from cotton if you can. Because chafing. That's all.

Most Important: Find what works for you. All of the above has worked for me over the past 5 years or so. I've been able to enjoy the journey so much more being comfortable with what I'm wearing. If jeans and high-heels are your thing on a 6 mile leisurely run, then GO FOR IT! If you dig baggy sweats and pasties on a trail run, DO IT. Get out there and feel fabulous in your own skin and be a superstar no matter what you have on!

The Beginning Of It All

I  started running for the very first time in high school while I was playing field hockey and lacrosse. I went to a boarding school in Westchester County where most everyone played sports. (The few who didn't had mandatory PE!!) I was excited to join a team since I had never had an opportunity to be on one in public school in Brooklyn. My friend KC and I chose to go out for field hockey, since we had looked over at the soccer tryouts in horror while their crazy coach was having them do 10 laps of the field, just to warm up!

We both looked at each other and made an instant but silent decision to try out for field hockey, since 1. we were closer to the field, and 2. they didn't appear to be running much at all. It looked a little like golf. We could definitely do this. Neither of us knew anything about the sport or what would actually be required of us. So naively, we shuffled over to the Field Hockey field, which looked to be shorter than the soccer field (score!). Plus, there was a woman coach--those were all good signs, right?

WRONG. After doing a couple of laps around the field 9 (I nearly died after every loop), we did a timed mile. I had NO IDEA what running a mile felt like since I had never had to run, for anything. (Childhood tag on city streets doesn't count and I'll talk about fence races another time.) That first mile ever was probably the most difficult physical thing I had ever done in my life. It consisted of 2 loops of the very hilly campus. The start of each loop was a short downhill followed by a rolling course around campus. The finish of each loop was a steady uphill until you turned into one of the school's main driveway, where even the stupid speed-bumps made me tired and angry.

My mile time was around 15 minutes--much of which I was walking and huffing and puffing and dying. When you have no idea of what a running a mile is like, or how long it is, or that a mile is like running from your block in Brooklyn to a block in another faraway neighborhood (like running from northern Bushwick to Bed-Stuy, for example), you believe you are going to be running/walking forever. I was disappointed to be the penultimate person, but ecstatic not to be the last that very humid, late summer day in the Hudson Valley.

After the mile-run debacle, practice started. We sprinted lengths of the field with and without our sticks, we practiced dribbling and driving field-hockey style, ran some more lengths of the field, practiced flicking the ball, and other field-hockeyish things.   KC and I were also introduced to the concept of the suicide, which on a basketball court might not be so bad, but on a FIELD HOCKEY FIELD was like someone pulling you from the sweet confines of restful death into purgatory over and over and over again. Two hours later I both couldn't feel my legs, my back, my neck AND then an hour later felt them very, very much.

What had we gotten ourselves into? How had we made this huge and STUPID mistake? Why was everyone better than us? How were these girls running up and down the field like it was second nature? They weren't even tired. KC and I were both kids from the city; she grew up in the Bronx and I had the honor of being born and raised in the borough of all boroughs, Brooklyn.

After the first week of practice, we still weren't accustomed to the demands of playing a sport everyday, let alone for two and a half hours a day. We endeavored to do better and decided that we would practice running so that we wouldn't suck so much at the sport.

This desire to be better took the form of early morning runs on the field of just a mile because that, we decided, was what was holding us back. So we practiced doing the 6 loops of the field hockey field, with its freshly cut grass and wild onion aroma. We stopped and started. Started and stopped. Bent over, breathless and chest heaving. We then would have to walk back up a humungous hill back to the dorms so we could limp into the showers before a much welcome breakfast.

At some point during the fall season KC and I started being able to run the warm-up loops continuously without stopping. We were able to dribble around the field without gasping for air. We could withstand the 2.5 hours of practice without keeling over face down. We could even make it through the rest of our typical boarding school evening--dinner, study hall, and socializing without being narcoleptic. That, my friends, is progress.

KC and I at our senior tea, after having survived years of field hockey

The other thing that kept us going was simply being a part of a team and knowing that if we got better, if we worked on stuff, the team would also get better. During breaks, our coaches asked us to keep working out, and to try to run everyday. This was my first foray into running for the sake of running. I would don my best "workout" clothes, cotton and all. I mean, who knew? Into the front pocket of my heavy sweatshirt would go my SONY Walkman stocked with a cassette tape with a combination of Whitney Houston, Sade, and Simon and Garfunkel. (Later on in my high school career, it would be Puccini, Special Ed, and Indigo Girls.
Go figure.)


I would start timidly at first, because NO ONE in my neighborhood ran unless they were playing tag or stickball or racing up and down the block. People would stare a little and then go back to what they were doing. I would run up my street until it ended at a public school track CLOSED TO THE PUBLIC. Then I would circle the perimeter of the track, and continue on my street until it ended at a cemetery, and then I would be brazen and run through that. It wasn't until last year that I figured out the mileage of those runs back in the day. At the most, I ran 2, maybe 3 miles. Still, it felt epic back then. Just EPIC.

How freeing. How absolutely liberating! Especially in the confines of the grids of the real North Brooklyn, not today's hipster North Brooklyn. No hard feelings, guys......

This was when I discovered what running really was. To be able to move my body JUST BECAUSE was a pretty awesome feeling. That feeling continues today.

Why Running or Walking In The Woods Is Bad For You

Running in the woods is beyond all reason; it is potentially dangerous and life-altering. It simply shouldn't be done and this is why:

You may sweat. This is outright disgusting. SHOWER? WHERE'S THE SHOWER? WHY DOES EVERYONE KEEP HANDING ME THIS DR. BRONNER'S STUFF AND WHY IS IT SO MINTY?

You may step in mud. WHAT IS THIS ICKY, GROSS DISGUSTINGNESS THAT IS RUINING MY UGGS?

You may lose bars on your cellphone. You may even be unable to text or Instagram for the eternity that is an hour or two. THIS IS UNACCEPTABLE. 

There may be hills and your legs may become tired. NO ONE SAID ANYTHING ABOUT A HILL AND ANYWAY THAT'S WHAT THE GYM IS FOR.

You may find it necessary to cross a stream and wet your UGGs. NOOOOOOO!

You might breathe in air that is filled with an unmistakable scent of damp dirt, which may be frightening or disconcerting, particularly if you've never smelled it before. This may cause deeper inhalations, a clearer head, and a slower pace. MY MIND IS...EMPTY.

You may come across a piece of trash and this will, inexplicably, make you very angry and petulant.

Your heart may flutter. IS THIS A HEART ATTACK?

You may start reciting Robert Frost poems. WHOSE WOODS THESE ARE....

You may experience absolute solitude. NOPE. WHERE MY PEOPLE AT???

You may never want to leave. So dangerous. Don't do it.

You might not return to your office job, ever. 

You may discover that your body is quite the efficient machine that keeps surprising you, hour after hour. NOPE. NOT POSSIBLE. I DID NOT JUST DO THAT.

You may experience pure, unadulterated pleasure. WHAT IS THIS...FEELING?

You may encounter various non-humans. These non-humans may cause you to discover that humans are not the only species on this planet and in fact, we must share.

You may encounter yourself. 

o trusty tread, an ode

o trusty tread
great friend o' mine
thou art
when dirty
treacherous ice
on my road sticks
you are, in your sturdy
machine-ness, there
to move
my legs, feisty and
restless

though the world hates
you as if you
were sloth
you are not,
o trusty tread
trust, me.

though you are not grass
or rock or stream
you do not
pretend to be.
a job it is, you do
for me.

so thank
you.


by fatgirlrunning

So We Moved To Appalachia

In April of 2013, I made the big decision to move the family from our very comfortable digs in New Jersey to the North Georgia Mountains. For this native Brooklynite who had tried Maryland once but moved back North because Baltimore seemed too southern, this came as a shock to nearly everyone I know. YOU'RE MOVING WHERE? THE SOUTH? GEORGIA? Yeah, but in the mountains. THERE ARE MOUNTAINS IN GEORGIA? WHAT???

We packed up our apartment at one boarding school in lush and beautiful Central New Jersey, and headed down South to our new boarding school in the North Georgia Mountains. (Ok, it didn't happen that quickly-I stayed at my parents' in Brooklyn for the summer and did this, this, and this!) The day after my son got home from camp, which was coincidentally the same day that I did my last NJ Trail Series Race (Wildcat Ridge Romp-a must do), we got in the car and drove 15 hours to our new home.

We live in the part of Georgia that is surrounded by the gently (and severely) sloping old-soul Appalachians. There is a certain air of mystery that pervades the area-it's palpable even. Summer mornings can be quite foggy, and then the most beautiful and bright sunlight breaks through the mist revealing the most sweet and cantankerous appendages of the earth.

Part of what lured me to the South, because NOTHING ELSE WOULD as a born-and -bred New Yorker (ok, maybe the job offer did, a little...), were the mountains and the possibility of trail upon trail upon trail. It was always my intention to end up in the Adirondacks, in New York State. Ever since my first public school outing to those mountains, I have been hooked. Okay, so I'm not in my home state, but I am in the mountains which happen to be in Georgia, and they are scary, beautiful, enveloping, and comforting.

Each mountain, hill, valley, knob boasts a particular character. One may be forgiving, the other strict and unyielding. One may be quiet and unassuming, the other bossy and loud.  The wonderful thing about all of them is that they are all at my doorstep. Do I want to run a steep and windy road? Step out the door. Do I crave some gnarly, technical trail? Run a quarter of a mile down the road, enter trail.  Do I want to summit the highest mountain east of the Mississippi? Done.

After a fairly difficult transition period (including a bout of a weird Lyme Disease-like sickness), we are now nicely settled in a house that faces the eastern ridges of the Appalachians. Most mornings I am up early enough to watch the sunrise from my front windows (when it's -6 degrees out like, this ENTIRE winter), my front porch, or while I'm out engaging in my life-giving and -affirming early morning runs.

There are two serious negatives. I am far away from my family. For someone who is pretty well-traveled and has spent tons of time away from home (as in boarding school and then college) it has been really difficult to have to drive twelve hours just to see family. Now, I'll just have to settle for thru-hiking the AT, and visit them that way, because apparently that is an expectation if you are even remotely outdoorsy down in these parts. The other negative (ok, maybe this one is not so serious-but it is, I swear!) is that NOTHING IS FLAT. NOT A DARNED THING! Even the hallway where my classroom is located is sloped. Yep, I have moved to a no-flat zone and it's taking its toll on my legs, heart, and ego!

Running-wise, moving to Georgia has been a gift. I was afraid it would be difficult to meet new runner-friends, but is has been really easy, and I've even been able to convince some walkers that walking was boring and that they should be running! I've been fortunate to assistant-coach the cross country team, running twice a day most days in the cool mornings and scorching afternoons. 

I get to run by expansive cow-grazing fields, corn fields, evergreen forests, old-growth forests, lakes, rivers. I get to climb over cow-gates, run in snowstorms, do burpees in the mud, and challenge my own perceptions of what it means to be alive, and well. 

I have much to learn about Georgia. The people, the customs, the culture, the ethos. Running here has brought me closer in an organic way to the birth-state of my maternal grandmother. It has deepened my spirit of adventure and has proven that stepping or running out of the box has great rewards. For that, I am grateful.