And now the moment you were all waiting for...

Ok not really, but here is footage from that crazy hike in Wales.  Notice the sound of the rain against the cover of the phone (you thought I was going to say window pane!).  At this point we were still heading on, thinking we could hold out on the weather.  But, Mike's pants were taking a beating so Alex constructed the infamous hillbilly trousers.



Oh the joys of iPhones on mountain tops. Life can't get much better!

At least I had on the right pants!

I often exaggerate for the hell of it.  Stories are made for exaggeration and I love to tell a good story.  But on my hike yesterday in Wales with Mike, Alex, and Vicky no amount of exaggeration can compare to the actual events that unfolded in my first attempt to hike a small mountain in Southern Wales.

Mike and I are newbies to this whole hiking culture.  I told myself that once I moved to Bristol I wanted to begin to hike. The region is known for its walking and hiking trails, and the landscape leaves you coming back for more with its breathtaking rolling fields of green and jagged rock formations.  Our first walk was a gentle 2 1/2 hour country stroll in the posh Cotswold area with another couple we know.  One small hill was about as intense as we got that day, so Mike and I were looking for more of an adventure.   Well, we got what we asked for when we met Alex and Vic.  Meeting initially at a couchsurfing party in town we got together with them last Wednesday.  Mike and Alex had some "man time" rock climbing at the local center and Vic and I met at the pub to talk about me playing on a local netball team (very British game that I don't know a hell of alot of about but I'll give a go as the Brits would say).  Vic and I got to talking and found out that we both liked hiking, so we decided to go on a hike Saturday in Wales.

I realized before we went that I needed some kind of hiking pants.  Rain and wind are common in these parts and I know my baggy sweatpants weren't going to cut it.  So Mike and I went to a local outdoor shop in town and I got myself a pair - Mike decided that he didn't want to make the investment so opted to wear jeans.  This would be prove to be a dumbass mistake - but we will get to that later.

The day of the hike we meet up with Vic and Alex at their house.  As we put our stuff into their car Mike and I notice they both have their own day packs, walking sticks, base layer clothing, and GPS devices.  All we had was a small day pack from Mike's backpack, some sandwiches, a camera, and raincoats - but I at least had on the right pants.  But, what the hell, it wouldn't be that bad right?

We arrive after an hour and a half drive, during which we made 2 pee stops, went searching for a Geo-cache on the side of the road (will explain in a later post), and I attempted not to throw up in the back seat due to car sickness on the small ass Welsh winding roads.  Coming up to the start to the start of the climb Alex comments that the clouds are a bit low, and visibility is only about 15 meters, but he has blankets, food, a first aid kit, and GPS so if we get stuck we can make shelter. I am thinking - "What the fuck (excuse the language for some) is he talking about?"  But I smile and say cool.  Then we begin and I tell you I was shitting myself on the ascent up.  The first 25, not 5 or 10, but 25 minutes was a straight uphill walk.  As my thighs began to burn from the unusual movement over rocky uneven ground I began to think to myself - "I am really doing this!"  Vic stayed back with me and we played name the US states and UK counties.  Needless to say she knew a hell of alot more States then I did counties, but it made the initial climb up easier.

Reaching the ridge we kept walking.  The flat ground felt a lot better, but the wind and rain kept coming.  By this time Mike's pants are soaked so Alex decides to make him some hillbilly trousers (video footage to come later).  Taking bin liners Alex wrapped them around Mike's legs and duck taped them up.  Lasting a total of 5 minutes, the liners decided to quit as the rain and wind kept coming.  All I can say is that I told him so, but really mother nature did a better job of showing him to respect the elements.

But, after the wind picked up more, to the point we were all walking on slant with the wind howling at us as pelts of rain are stinging our faces, we decided that we needed to turn back so that we could make it down to the car.  Walking back we had to cross over a small deep puddle and then a small waterfall.  Now, being the newbie I mistook light dirt for a rock.  So I stepped out on this imaginary rock and ended up with half my leg in water and mud.  Mike pulled me out as I am shouting "goddammit I thought it was rock!"

Ah, but at least I had on the right pants.  Through high winds, constant rains, and a leg in a muddy wet ditch my lower half remained relatively dry throughout the walk.  Mike on the other hand, with jeans on and hillbilly over-trousers did not fare so well.  Soaked through completely, once we reached the car they had to come off.  Now, this would not be so bad if we were going home but wet, cold, and hungry a pub with a good fire was in order.  So, with a blue beach towel around his waist Mike walked into the local pub with his American kilt on and warmed himself by the fire with a Jameson on the rocks in hand.

Overall, it was an amazing day.  I learned that gear is essential, along with a change of clothes.  I learned that walking sticks are the best thing ever invented - ok well not the best but they come in handy going down steep inclines in the rain.  But, I also learned that I can conquer my fears.  I always dreamed of climbing mountains and trekking through barren lands, but I was always afraid of actually going through with it.  Doubt is more crippling than any disease as it makes you complacent in your everyday.  For me, my everyday was not fulfilling.  Yesterday, in the wind and rain on the side of that ridge with good people I felt alive.  Truly alive.  That is a feeling I never want to give up.  Although we had to turn back, I know I am getting closer to my goal of conquering my fears and climbing a mountain on my 30th bday in South America.  So I learned yesterday that with a little determination, a few laughs, and a good set a pants I can make it.

Stats

This will be short and sweet.  It has been 8 weeks since I began to focus on me and results are showing.  My trainer today poked, pinched, and weighed this body of mine and now I am down 16 pounds; about 10 inches over my chest, back, waist, and thighs; and 5% body fat from when I started.  Who said a bit of sweat and a hell of a lot of "f you's" don't pay off!  Next time, a piece on the holiday season.  Stay tuned...I know you are waiting!

Oh and for the curious this is me being very British...enjoying a proper walk through the countryside.  Cherri-O for now

HAPPY BIRTHDAY DAD!

Today is my dad's birthday. He would have been 75 years old. Three and half years ago I was in Seattle, WA with my friend Agatha. We were traveling up to Vancouver, BC in Canada the next day. I was to give my first professional talk as a Ph.D student, on a panel with my adviser. At 10:00pm Pacific time I received a call on my cell phone from my 16 year old brother Sean. Agatha and I were about to go out for dinner and drinks. I answer and say "What the hell are you doing up?" Sean replies "Dad's dead." I don't remember much after that. The rest of the weekend was a blur as I gave the talk and mostly drank. The rock of the family, and the sanity of my mother, died that night.

So who is my dad?  Well to me he was a funny, smart-ass, ginger, caring guy.  Oh, and he was old (I mean when you baby pic is in black and white and they used those bulbs to take it you know your old).  His age made him different from the other dads when I was growing up.  By the time I was born he was already 45, was born in the Second World War, lived on rations, contracted polio before antibiotics were discovered (I mean that is pretty damn old), been in the Air Force, ran bootleg liquor in Oklahoma, and had married and divorced.  I was to be the first of 7 kids my mom and him had together (with two passing away), but dad was already a father so when I was born on August 21, 1981 I had an 18 year old brother to look after me.

Growing up on the far Southside of Chicago with a stay at home dad who looked like Santa Claus and a mother who no one ever saw made my family the odd ones in the neighborhood.

But, you know what I liked it.  Times were hard but it made who I am today.  I learned quick that "normal" was relative.  I also learned that my mom had alot of issues that my dad kept secret.  So I guess my dad was also a good mediator.  He knew when to talk and when to keep quiet, what to tell and what to "forget."  After he died, I saw the work he had put into the family to keep us together.  It killed him in the end really.  His mind and body just gave up as old age and the affects of polio rippled through his body.  I was told he died of pneumonia, but I will never be sure.  Mom can never give you a straight answer. 

But today I remember who he was, and is, in my heart.  Dad was my best friend.  I told him when I first kissed a guy (his response was to tell me, after I asked why the guy wouldn't talk to me again, to "not give it up so easy next time" with a big laugh attached), he bought my first pads and bras, watched me play sports in high school and college when he could, and ordered me my first Archaeology magazine (even though I was doing Anthropology he at least got the overall field right).  We would talk every other day when I moved to Louisiana and then to Michigan (one day he told me I needed friends).  I would ask for his advice and he would always say "I can't live your life, you have to decide what is best for you."  I liked that because even though he missed me and worried about my random travels around the country, he let me be free and allowed me to explore places, things, and ideas that he never could imagine.  He loved me for me and that is all you can ask for in a parent. 

This picture was taken on his 68th birthday.  I was living in Louisiana and my older brother Rob and his wife were still stationed in Sicily.  Schyler was in college somewhere in Iowa and the other three kids were in Chicago, living at home.  All 7 of us had not been in the same country, in the same state, or in the same house for 10 years.  So we decided to surprise dad and all come home.  Rob bought my ticket up and picked me up from the airport.  Dad was already shocked to see his oldest son and daughter-in-law in the country, but he was double shocked when he walked up the stairs and saw Schyler and I sitting in the kitchen.  By this time I had lost 70 lbs, grown my hair long, and wore make-up.  My dad looked at me and said "You're beautiful".  It was the sweetest thing anyone had ever told me.  I looked at him and said thanks and gave him the cowboy hat you see in the picture.  Being dad, he said "Ok no more surprises, I don't think my heart can take it."

So now he is gone, but his spirit is somewhere.   Us kids have become a little closer since his passing, but the family is a bit broken.  My mother can't stop her grieving and so takes is out on us, but I am learning to deal with her.   As I come to terms with my dad's death I realize that all I can do is pass on his memory to my kids and let them know that their granddad was a one wild, crazy-ass man who I love with all my heart.  In my quest to live my life I honor my dad.  

Happy birthday dad.

Food

Mike (my boyfriend for those not in the know) likes to cook.  I mean he really likes to cook.  Since moving to the UK, and being without a job at the moment, Mike has taken up cooking as a past time.  Recipes taken from Gordon Ramsey (right) and Jamie Oliver (below), along with a bit imagination has made Mike a wizard in the kitchen (and it leaves me time to do work).  It also helps cut costs as we hardly go out to eat anymore and its been helping me drop this excess weight in preparation for the half marathon.

Honestly, I didn't even think food was something worth even writing about until a trip to the local Tesco this past Sunday.  That day we made our way to the store after a failed attempt at swimming in the local pool (damn families with their bazillion kids hogging all the flippin lanes, but I digress...). Mike wanted to make homemade wheat bread  and meat lasagna that day.  I was to bake a whole chicken and have a side of broccoli.  Good food, but nothing that shouts WOW (well the food was pretty damn good so a little wow might be in order).  While checking out the cashier made a comment that it was nice to see people buying real food, as most who come through her lines either have ready made meals or boxed goods.  This made me stop and think.  How come in a grocery store, with fresh produce and proteins, is it becoming a rarity to see people buying "real food"?

So when we got home I pulled out all the stuff we bought from the store and laid on the counter to see what was so mysterious about our food selection. 

My conclusion: nothing really.  It's just food.  For about $130.00 USD we were able to get enough things to last us for up to two weeks, minus veggies which last only about 5-7 days before we have to restock.  Now, I hear the argument that buying food like this is expensive, but that is bullshit.  When you add up the prepackaged meals, the take-aways, and the boxed goods many times you end up spending more money because you are still hungry due to the lack of nutrients.  Or, you hear people say they don't have time, but the same people seem to have time for the pub, tv, or to just sit around and bitch about how much time they don't have.  I use to do this, and this is what allowed me to get into a routine of binging, not working out, drinking, bitching about feeling fat, repeat.  When I would look at my bank account I wondered where all my money had gone - one day I realized, sadly, that is was mainly me going to restaurants and take-away shops.

Now some of you may be saying to yourself "Well in America we have the big fast food companies to blame with their advertisements and locations in disadvantaged areas that is causing a rise in obesity."  If you are saying that I would agree with you to an extent.  It is big business and in a capitalist system business tends to win, many times over basic ethical and moral concerns.  But, I think it goes a bit beyond that.  In the UK the idea of drive-through is not there because there is no space. Simple, so you think that their obesity rates are lower.  BUT, they aren't that much lower because instead of the McDonalds or KFC on ever corner you have Kebab shops, pizza joints, and Indian take-aways that are all open late for the "after pub" crowd, and they are cheap.  Liquor + cheap take away food on every corner = a growing epidemic of overweight unhealthy populations.  So it goes back the beginning of my post of why, as people, are we reluctant to eat real food anymore?

If you look behind the smoke and mirrors of all the weight loss shows, infomercials, diet books, tabloid coverage of celebrity weight loss/gain it  comes down to humans renegotiating our relationship with food.   Of course many may, and will, find holes in my theory, but I think when we find it "abnormal", or label people "snotty" or "pretentious", to buy fresh fruits, veggies, and meats then there is a problem.  When I was growing up we did not have a lot of money, but we ate mostly real food.   Now, I didn't understand the idea of portion control and balancing my plate, but overall it was real food.  When you are feeding a large family on little money my parents realized buying a few pounds of dried beans and a large sack of rice was more filling, more nutritious, and least expensive then sending the family down to McDonalds for a Big Mac with fries.  As a society were are now over-educated in some respects about food, and at the same time ignorant on basic facts about nutrition.  Maybe this is the new revolutionary idea that the young generation takes up on its quest to be an "eco-friendly green planet."  I don't know, but next time you reach for that packaged meal or that easy take-away snack ask yourself if you can wait till you go home and make yourself a proper meal.

I don't like my feet off the ground

Yesterday was a day of learning.  First I learned that I had a tight groin (please see previous post for explanation) and second I learned I don't like my feet leaving the ground.  Let me explain.

I run here some of the time. I like it.  In the middle of the city there is big open space and footpaths all around.  It's a British thing - people should have access to public space and so the government makes sure there are parks and footpaths throughout the country for people to enjoy.  So when in Britain, do as the Britons and I use this public space for my enjoyment (see below).  Bristol then becomes a great city to really get out there and enjoy the English countryside.  Running, biking, canoeing, hiking, and yes rock climbing.  Situated near numerous gorges Bristol boasts a lively and active rock climbing culture.

So I thought to myself - "Self, why not try to do more things Brits do" - so Mike and I enrolled in a "tester" rock climbing course at a local center.

Undercover Rock

We go and I get all excited cause I think I going to love it and that afterward Mike and I will enroll in the beginners course, then we can get certified, and live happily ever after - ok maybe not but I thought as least this was one extreme sport we could do together.  Then I actually see the climbing wall. I look up and my heart dropped - "What in the hell was I thinking?"  But, I still think I can do this.  For this session there are 4 of us total, Mike and I then two British girls.  Our instructor Sean tells us that fear is natural so just go with it.  I'm like cool.  We get suited up (man I wish I had a pic, I felt and looked liked a slightly browned sausage with a helmet, but I digress...) and then it's my turn.  I step up and grab hold, I then make is about 2 feet off the ground, looked down and said "I don't like this." It took me another 5 minutes to take my hands off the wall, lean back, and safely belay down to the ground.

Ok, first attempt - its expected.  Mike goes and of course he climbs up the wall in like 10 seconds and gets to try harder and harder climbs during the hour.  Me on the other hand, I was his support.  I  tightened the rope as he went up and released it on the way down.  After three futile attempts by me my instructor says, well let's try you on the easiest route.  I'm like ok, so we go and of course its the kids wall.  Now, I know that I need to swallow my pride and realize that I am new to this and heights aren't my thing but your ego gets a bit damaged when, as a 28 year old woman, I can't make it past 2 feet off the ground and next to me are four 7 year olds climbing a difficult route...wait for it...BLINDFOLDED!  YES, a kids team were practicing next me and they were racing each other blindfolded as dads stood around cheering them on.  I, on the other hand, couldn't even go up the damn safety ladder next to the wall and just belay down.  At the end of the hour I was tired, my hands were sore, and my ego was slightly (oh hell, really), bruised.

On the way home Mike asked me what I thought was holding me back.  I thought about it and realized that I really don't like the idea of my feet leaving the ground.  This has also been my problem in learning to swim. I am ok up to 6 feet of water, but when I can't touch the bottom I freak out and sink - very counterproductive.  Same with the climbing business, I trust the rope and the pulley system, but once I can't put my feet on the ground, and all I can do is go up and rely on someone to bring me down to the ground, then the sensors in my brain and body shut down.  My legs start twitching and I looked like I'm cracked out on meth.  But, I don't want to give up.  Climbing would help me in my mountaineering so I think I may try hypnotherapy.  I have been talking about it for years, but what else can I do?  My mind is tweaked out and goes into overload once the ground and feet part ways.  So I'll wait a month and try again and next time I won't be next to blindfolded 7 year olds.  I mean DAMN! 

Tight groin

I never knew I had a tight groin until today.  Once a week I meet with my yoga instructor Nicole.  I found her on gumtree.co.uk one day about 3 weeks ago while I was looking for a good astrologer - yes an astrologer.  Her prices were reasonable and I knew that I needed to become more flexible so my back would stop freezing up (oh yea and maybe drop some of the excess "lovin" I had accumulated over the past 12 month, but I digress..).  We emailed, she seemed legit and so I went to her house in Clifton (the really really nice area of town mind you) and...she ends up being American!

Yoga Nicole - she is the one on the right

It was funny at the time, although not as funny now on paper.  But, anyway, we talked about what I wanted to get out of yoga and she explained that in the first month we would go through the basic yoga poses before we did an actual flow.  I like this - I never really learned how to "do" yoga, so when I went to classes I was always in the back watching all the skinny ass, yoga pants and tank top wearing, women doing these intricate and painful moves.  I always thought that I had a weak core and tight hamstrings, explaining why some moves were hard for me to do.  Plus, standing over 6 feet tall makes that whole bending over, down, and backwards thing just plain unnatural and awkward looking.  But, today I was proven wrong - my core is actually pretty strong, you just can't see it through my excess layers of skin, yet!  Hamstrings are a bit tight, but nothing like they were before.  No, today I found out that I have a tight groin.  Yes, a tight groin and before you laugh it is painful man.  And really who in the hell thinks of their groin as tight and not think sex off the bat?  When did I find this out you may ask?  I found this out attempting to do this move called "Warrior 2"

 (In case you are wondering, no I have not turned into a skinny white lady who wears yoga pants and a tank top - this is a model.)  To correctly do this pose you have to have a long stance with your back foot pointed at a 45 degree angle - not 60 or 90 but 45 degrees.  The front leg should be bend, but not over the ankle and your hips should be pointed out, not in the direction of your legs.  Your arms come out and you pull back with your arms, but pull forward with your legs.  Point blank - this move hurt liked a bitch and I felt like someone was ripping my groin out of my body.

Yet, at the end of the session my body felt good.  A bit tired from the run this morning, but nicely stretched with sufficent "uh's" and "you want me to do what" released through the session, the overall meeting was good and I feel myself slowly understanding this thing called yoga.  So I continue to go to Nicole once a week until I am confident enough to walk back into the studio, knowing that I can bust out moves like this guy.

 Ok, maybe not...but as least I won't be intimidated by the overly flexible women and half naked men who "do" yoga with their slender chiseled physiques.  With my basketball shorts on and old t-shirt I will show them how this tall brown girl works a pose.