Health by Heidi

I gasped.  I knew something was wrong.  I gasped again, forced a slow exhale.  Another gasp.  I couldn't gain traction.  I had to get out of the puddle.  Dimly, my mind realized there was no pain.  Something just felt wrong.  Gasp, forced slow exhale.  I hesitantly reached up and touched my shoulder, where my arm should have connected to my body.  My arm was there, only a few inches lower than it should have been.  Another gasp. We were four and a half miles from the trailhead at the end of a three-day backpacking trip.  It had been a wonderful and challenging journey from the beginning.  The weeks-long hot spell had finally broken, and my two friends, Lisa and Rebecca, and I jumped at the chance to hit the trails for some forest time.  We had four dogs between the three of us, all females.  This was a girls' trip on all accounts.  The forecast called for intermittent rain showers, so we came prepared with r...

Spring time in the Northern Rockies is an exercise in patience.  Mother Nature is waking up from her long winter slumber, feeling well-rested and feisty.  She likes to tease us.   "Oh, you want sun?" she asks as she yawns and stretches.  "Here, how about a sunny blue sky 70 degree day.  You've earned it after the long winter."  She giggles to herself.  "Just kidding!  I'm going to make it snow tonight.  A lot.  Inches.  Teehee."  She giggles again.  "Sorry about the snow.  Not really.  Here.  I'll raise the temperature to 50 degrees and bring heavy clouds for a week.  No, better make it two weeks.  Will it rain every day?  Will it snow at night?  You'll have to wait and see!  Oh, and wind!  We need wind to go along with the heavy clouds.  What's wrong?  Your seasonal affective disorder just kicked into overdrive?  Too bad.  Hahahahahahaha..." My good fri...

 "Be careful," the motorist advised as he rolled up next to me.   "I'm not moving till he moves!" I replied with a nervous chuckle.   The motorist waved and slowly drove on.  I straddled my bicycle, standing on the shoulder of the road on a self supported bike tour, descending down the east side of Logan Pass in Glacier National Park.  All had been proceeding smoothly until I rounded a corner.  There, on the side of the road, stood a gargantuan grizzly bear.  I grabbed the brakes, promptly halting my descent.  Mr. Grizzly grazed contentedly on the foliage at the road side, ignoring the sparse traffic that slowed and swerved around him.  His coat was thick and heavy, brown with tan shading around his shoulders and face.  The telltale grizzly hump rested between his shoulders like a bowling ball made of muscle.  The power in his body was palpable, coiled in his muscles like a den of rattlesnakes ready to strike.  He per...

I'm gonna do a seven day bike tour in Colorado next year.  Any interest in going with me?   I pressed Send and the text message whooshed away to my best friend, Denise.  I waited.  Three bubbles appeared.  Do you think I can do it?  Denise is a marathon runner and cycles intermittently as cross training.  She is an aerobic monster, is intimately familiar with long stretches in the pain cave, and lives at 7,000 feet elevation. I know you can do it!  I wouldn't have asked if I had any doubt!   Whoosh went my reply.  I waited, watching the bubbles appear and disappear.  Denise was thinking carefully about her response.  Finally, it came. Ok.  I'm in.   The Colorado bike tour that we were discussing was a seven day, fully supported bike tour through the high mountains of Western Colorado.  Each day, we would ride anywhere between 45 and 82 miles, climbing the high passes in the process, including two passes...

 Bonking.  Hitting the wall.  Lead legs.  Crashing.  Running out of gas.  So many names.  One simple thing.  Most of us have heard of it.  Several of us have experienced it.  It’s that thing that happens when you don’t fuel enough during a sporting event, and suddenly your body begins to betray you.  Everything feels harder than it should. Then things start to feel impossible, and only get worse.  You may know the feeling intimately.  For me, the initial stages of a bonk vary depending on what activity I’m engaged in, but generally it starts with a massive case of grumpy.  If I’m on my bike, I start to get really mad at my hair.  More specifically, I start to hate my braid.  REALLY HATE my braid.   Why won’t this fucking braid stay off my shoulder.  Just stay in the middle of my back.  Why is that stupid braid hanging down my back.   I HATE my braid.   And on and on it goes.  If...