Tag: skiing

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The Bomber Traverse

On By kateginsbachIn Alaska, Mental Health, skiing, UncategorizedLeave a comment

In a way I’ve been completely unprepared for my life to return after trauma but thankfully my friends were prepared enough for me. I thought this the past weekend when I cancelled my therapy appointment because there was a weather window for one of the ski objectives Charlotte and I had this year. It’s been a year since I started working with my trauma therapist. I thought back to that first session– it was almost 3 months after my panic attack and the dark abyss I had been lost in was a lot. My therapist had her work cut out as this wasn’t a narrative I had ever envisioned having to navigate. The faulty narrative I was carrying around was holding me back, in that period I had no flexibility around the story and couldn’t see anyway it would ever be reframed. Now I figured a long day out in the mountains would do as much good as a 1 hour therapy session– plus the weather window. And if anything over the past few years Charlotte has seen me in most emotional and physical states of being.

Charlotte and I discussed the logistics for the day, we’d leave town at 7am and I decided to bring my heavy/wider skis. I’m still waiting on a replacement part for my race skis but also with the variable snow conditions that we’d potentially run into figured that would be a better bet. We headed out with our (Charlotte’s) Gaia track following the trail up to Gold Mint Hut. It was a mild grade and we chatted along the way and also making note of potential routes up and slide paths. I had never been back in the area in the winter and only once in the summer. The summer trip was in July 2020 when I was in the throws of it, I remember being out there overnight and sobbing in the tent because of how much uncertainty I felt– every time I went into the backcountry at that point I was always worried about what I would be coming back into when I gained service. The silence and solitude did not provide comfort then, instead only amplified how much noise I was missing out on. And then I cried harder for ruining the trip for others. That’s what I was bringing into this space.

We traversed the mild slope before reaching a point to start climbing up towards the Mint Hut. We talked about the different routes, opting to cut more to the left and to try and avoid extra time under a slide path and headed up. The line we took was a little icy and the side hilling didn’t provide for great traction. We kept space between us just incase something released. I was navigating up first when I saw a hole in the snow and looked in, some animal waste was by the opening– my mind thought to a bear den, is it too early, hopefully it doesn’t cave in and I wake whatever might be sleeping below me.

I know those of you outside of Alaska reading that are probably thinking what an irrational fear (like riding over a snake and having it get caught in my rear wheel and flung up on me) but this actually happened where a skier disrupted a bear den and the bear attacked him. I moved past the hole and waited on the shoulder for Charlotte to come up. We weaved our way up towards the hut and then stopped before we started our approach of backdoor gap to get some food and make some gear adjustments.

We kept our skins on and headed up but it soon became apparent that it was too steep and icy to skin so we’d have to switch to boot packing. I had been waiting for Charlotte to traverse so stayed put while Charlotte transitioned. Our plan was that only one of us would be exposed to a potential avalanche at a time while the other stayed out of the slide zone underneath some rocks. Charlotte started the first leg of the boot pack and I stood watch not wanting to transition too early in case something happened. She crested and was tucking back into the rock section when I had started to transition and looked up and didn’t see her– is that avalanche debris new or old, surely I would have heard something if it released. I transitioned quicker and called to her on the radio. No response. I got my skis on my back and crampons on my boots and looked up, she had popped back over the zone I couldn’t see her and was perched below a rock. I took a breath and started making my way up. Because she had put the bootpack in, my ascent was a bit faster and less laborious. I got to the top and we diagnosed the issues with our radios and got them working. I stepped out and navigated a route up towards another rock outcropping to take shelter in. I’m not great at boot packing and deployed all the tricks I had been working on, heel down, knees forward, push up, disperse weight over the polls. As I got near when I said I would stop, Charlotte radioed to see if I was still going, “yeah, almost to the spot.” I got up and radioed down to let her know it was clear. She came up and met me and we kept working towards the top with only one of us moving at a time.

We crested the top and looked at the other side, a nice little cornice. We talked about the boot pack and the choices we made and then talked about the next section. I offered to drop in first, telling Charlotte the line I would be taking to another meet up point on the slope.

I pushed off after finding a small opening that didn’t seem like it was right on top of the cornice and cut left before turning right while trying to get out from underneath the potential area of snow fall fast enough. We regrouped and then party skied down the more mellow slope finding some nice snow and turns. We headed down but the slope was gradual and we tried to keep as much speed as possible to make it to the valley floor. It mostly worked with some awkward side stepping to get over humps but we made it down and then put our skins back on to head up to snowbird glacier.

The skin up was pretty uneventful, we had a track from someone who did it last year and just made sure that we were climbing towards the right ridge. We got onto the glacier no problem and traversed up to the ridge line to drop down. After transitioning we talked about lines and started skiing.

The snow was anything but powder and cutting through it proved cumbersome for turning. The views were incredible but hard to take in with all the survival skiing going on. We looked at the slope of what we’d need to go down and realized all the avy runs we’d have to cross. Fortunately, they had released at that point but the avy debris we had to cross made me realize how fatigued my legs were.

Going across the avalanche debris made me grateful that I had taken my wider skis, having to navigate around chaotic masses of snow, ice, and whatever else had been picked up during the slide. I always think about this when I’m out in the backcountry, if one releases (again, Mom, I’m never in those areas) and the turmoil of getting carried only to then potentially be buried under this massive weight (compacted avalanche debris will weigh in excess of 500 kg per cubic metre). It’s like the snow just settles and immediately becomes like concrete, something like 60% of avalanche victims who died whilst buried show something on the surface but it can take a large effort to extract them– and that’s if they survive the potential trauma. So at least there was some reassurance that they had already slid, until we reached a gully that had only had small tracks of avy debris in it. We stopped and talked about how quickly we could get across and which line. I went first and skied in and popped out as fast as I could hitting ice on the other side and traversing down the hill side to the next debris field where I turned and watched Charlotte. There is always a moment in these situations where you run through worse case scenario, if something slid. But worst case scenario didn’t happen and Charlotte popped up the gully and traversed down to where I was.

We both agreed that being in a gully in Hatcher is the worst thing and have deep reverence for the whims of mother natures. After that we linked up with Archangel road and mostly skated back to the car. We did it in about 11 hours, I ate 6 donuts among other treats. We talked about how we probably wouldn’t have gone too much faster on different skis and we were both really happy with the day and our set up. We debriefed on the spots that were worrisome and how we could have done things differently but some times you’re just responding and figuring out how to best move forward with the information you have.

A long day in the mountains did help and also when you’re out there for 11 hours lots of time to think about things—especially a stark contrast to the last time I was out there. In some ways I feel like my awareness has never been sharper and taking that to the mountains allows me to be fully present. I think about the COVID times and often think of it as my life was on pause—a friend recently corrected me saying it wasn’t on pause and showing up in that space how I did was just as authentic as I am being now. But in some ways I felt like my life was on pause because it didn’t feel like I was growing or able to. How I showed on that summer trek of the Bomber is how I was assumed to keep showing up– all these negatives assumptions piled up against me until I started to believe them too. I sat with that for a while because I think of how I show up now versus then and how different it feels, in all aspects. But that girl during COVID while in some ways felt like a shell of who I can be was still me—it’s like going out into the mountains and not having a blue bird day but still appreciating just being out there—or enjoying the darkness without having to contrast it to the light. And all this duality can exist and growth can happen, someone’s best day in the mountains can be your worst—I can hate a trail and then love it– I can be a shell of a human and still have light in me—someone can be a not great partner and still exist as a good friend– I can be upset that I had a panic attack and also so grateful for it shaking me into being. This growth exists in the mountains and in a way it’s easier to hold space for –the days that fall short of the objectives, leaning into the progression, the changes, the trails that I’ve come to love that once destroyed me—the spaces I inhabit that no longer scare me—the solitude that no longer comes at the expense of peace. And I’m able to hold all these dimensions together–I don’t assume a trail I’ve once taken will remain the same and instead meeting it each time where it’s at.

I think of the growth that has happened– the lens that I view things in and those that view me. For most of COVID I felt like my internal and external value systems were out of sync, what I valued internally wasn’t perceived externally. That’s been hard to stomach, like a coworker that told me she was startled when she heard me laugh for the first time (we had worked together for over a year before that happened)– or another unprovoked telling me how much happier I seem now– but harder to stomach is the conversations with friends, where things felt one sided, where I showed up with good intentions but my actions still caused pain. The negative assumptions that were held against me– if I hated this trail I will always hate this trail– if I didn’t enjoy something one day I would always feel that way– this growth that was paused, no new information was allowed. Realizing the friends that have extended grace to me in this period, those that allowed me to exist without ever knowing or suggesting I would return to my old (new) self– the darkness they invested in without knowing if there would be an endless summer to come. Now, figuring out how I can extend the same grace to others that fall short of my expectations or assumptions– I cannot anticipate the harm I will cause, we will cause, or that will be brought onto me, even with good intentions we have no idea what we are bringing into a space, what they are bringing into the space. Here’s the thing, you can show up in someone else’s story as the hero or the villain for the exact same behavior. We are neither the hero nor the villain in our own story but instead the narrator– and it’s our story to tell and rewrite, and edit, as we learn and grow and acquire new information. It’s like being on a long slog (more on those later) where you end up in a spot you didn’t anticipate and you can’t go back but only move forward, make the best decision for you in that time with the information you have but being flexible and adaptable as you make your way down the trail. At the end you look back and think wow, what a crazy story that is, but in the midst of the trail you can’t conceive how it will all unfold– and only when you get to the end do you finally feel like you can make sense of all the chaos in the midst. Anyways, thanks for staying with me on this one and for embracing the weird, chaotic amazingness that comes with being human– it’s my first time being alive (that I remember- haha!)

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Fisher Price Moments

On By kateginsbachIn Alaska, Mental Health, Other Adventures, skiing, UncategorizedLeave a comment

Who knew that one week would bring so many new experiences. Grateful to be back in Alaska and all that comes with it.  

After Colorado I headed back to Alaska. I landed late Friday night and the next day made plans to get out with Charlotte and Lang. Lang asked what we were feeling and I said something that wouldn’t require skate skiing as during the race the side of my foot had ended up with a nasty blister. We opted for a tour in the front range because of conditions and we wanted to check out a line for later. We met early and caught up on the adventures they had had over the past month. Charlotte showed off her sweet new ski poles that she got in France and I showed her my bibs I got when all my stuff got lost in Canada. We headed onto the trail and talked about what we were feeling, anywhere from 11-15 miles. With the wind expectations we opted for the 11 miles to have a bit more coverage. We skinned for a while, talking about future lines. The slope was gradual until just the last bit, which had a steeper angle (but not really anything over 25 degrees if that). It was icy enough though that we joked we should have brought ski crampons and made our way to what looked like softer snow to grip our skins. We got to the top and the wind was raging. We took our skis off so we could get behind some rocks to check out a line- we questioned if our skis would actually stay with the wind.

I put mine up next to some rocks so if they moved they maybe wouldn’t get blown off the cliff. We tucked in the rocks which gave us only a little more protection and looked at the line. We talked about the best approach and what it would look like. While this was happening I was putting on all my layers, while not actively snowing the wind was whipping the snow up and accumulation was starting to build on my pack.

We decided to get down and then we’d stop to drink and eat something. Transitioning was challenging as the wind kept whipping my skins around as I tried to wrangle them to protect and fold them away. We headed down, I headed skiers left as it seemed the easiest line for me to traverse down. Lang and Charlotte went right and I immediately regretted the split. It’s not a habit I want to get into but I had eyes on them the whole time and I watched my slope to cut it at a low angle. We met up down below on more of the flat surface and talked about how terrible the snow conditions were — it was like we had forgotten how to ski. Because of the low angle slope we mostly shuffled/double poled for a while. We did get to a spot that allowed us to get some turns before crossing the river and putting our skins back on to get out. 

 On Sunday I met a friend to cross country ski (never too early to start training for the Gothic- ha). We ended up catching up for a while and I had therapy at 12 so squeezed in about a 30 minute ski but it was nice to at least get some movement. I then disregarded unpacking and went and caught up with more friends, promising that I would do more later that evening. Instead I got a text from an old co-worker letting me know the northern lights were going to be out (he knew it was on my list to see them this year). I met up with him around 7pm and we headed out of town with blankets and extra layers. 

As we were driving we started to see some dancing, we found an empty pull off away from the highway and started to watch. The lights ebb and flow in their intensity. Sometimes dancing across the sky and at other times, retreating until there is only a glimpse to the naked eye. I sat in complete wonder and awe and stared. This is incredible, I took it all in.

Eric had brought a tripod so was able to take some good photos, I didn’t even try. I thought back to the Maah Daah Hey and had a similar feeling, is this mine to keep forever. We sat out for a few hours and then realizing the 5am wake up call I’d have headed back to town but pulled over once again when they came back out. 

The lights were good enough that people saw them from Anchorage without much trouble. I woke up early again and thought of heading outside but still felt satisfied from the night before so instead turned on my sun lamp and started my work day.

I met Charlotte later that day for a little after work ski on the local trails. I used my race boots and still felt some aggravation from my race blister. 

I headed up to Fairbanks early Wednesday morning for an all day meeting. I thought about taking my ski stuff but returning Thursday afternoon felt like it would have been a lot to pack in. I did shove in my yoga clothes just in case.

I arrived in Fairbanks and it reminded me of the Black Hills, with small rolling hills and heavy trees, oh this is nice. I had meeting all day and then the friend I was staying with was teaching yoga so caught a ride and met her at the studio, then we stayed for another yoga class and cooked dinner and did a lot of debriefing of our lives. 

The next morning I spent mostly prepping for my presentation. I went to the meetings, the focus being on the international perspective of things. One of the early speakers, Deenaalii, talked about grounding, they posed two questions to the audience, what are you bringing to this meeting and how do you embrace change. How do I embrace change I thought and we had to discuss to a person we didn’t know. I thought about this and probably overshared with this stranger giving a lot more detail but the just was but that I was embracing change in a way I did prior to COVID-19. After the talk I went up to Deenaalii, knowing them, and chatted for a bit talking about my answer they gave me the wisdom to say don’t get addicted to the feeling of things changing constantly and to seek grounding. Woof.

I gave my presentation which I won’t bore you with the details but I’m incredibly grateful that I get to work on the things that I feel such drive and passion for– I know a lot of people who don’t feel that in their jobs and I wake up everyday saying a statement of gratitude that I get to have a job I love and live in a place I love. After that I had just enough time to squeeze in a trip to the Museum of the North before my flight.

Back in Anchorage I started unpacking and joked with my roommate that I felt like I was finally ready to emerge from my cocoon that I had created in my room (more like forest ferrel creature) after all the sideways things that have happened over the past few months (again book material, not blog material). I went skiing with Hailey, who gave me pointers on skate skiing form and we got back to the car to find my window was smashed in. This is a very common occurrence in Anchorage. Unfortunately, they only took Hailey’s things and left all of mine. The biggest inconvenience was having to vacuum up all the glass but now The Truc is ghetto fabulous for the next few weeks. I thought about passing on skiing the next day but woke up early enough to take care of all the insurance things and Lang offered to drive so we could be a bit warmer.

We headed out to Hatcher’s with a plan to try and ski a couloir. When telling someone that I was going couloir hunting, he joked that I didn’t really annunciate well and thought I was going ‘cooler hunting’ for the Yeti’s that had washed up on shore previously this year. I assured him that I have a terrible time with the spoken word as everyone thinks Alvin’s name is actually Elvin when they hear it from me.

We headed out and decided to go towards Lost Couiloir since it seemed the safest bet in the conditions– figuring it would be tracked out but thinking that was a better bet in case we had to bail and ski something else.

We headed up and skinned our way to the bottom and looked up, no one had been here. How is this possible? We skinned up until we were at a good spot and dug a pit to see what the snow pack looked like.

We both felt good with what we had seen and headed up to the point where we had to stop skinning and start boot packing. My boot packing skills are quite comical as I would basically just sink further deeper into the snow. Lang gave me some tips, like heels down, knee in, drop your butt, all the things to disperse weight over the surface, and we made it to the top, maybe an hour after we had started. Mind you it was only about 400-500 yards.

We still couldn’t believe that no one had been up here. Lang offered to go first, even though we felt good about the potential avy risk (it was very low, mom) he would get some of the sluff out that was on the top layer.

He went down first and I waited at the top, watching his line to see how the snow was cutting. I waited until he got to our discussed meet up point and then flipped my boots into ski mode. At some point I realized I would have to go down, which I know what you’re thinking, isn’t that the point, yes obviously, mostly. But I also really enjoy ascending so sometimes I get to the top and then I’m like oh yeah how do I get down.

I pushed off, trying to make sure I did not tumble and lose a ski right away like I had done the weekend before. I cut into the slope and the snow felt amazing. I cut back and started following a similar line of Lang’s down. I kept cutting down, anticipating hitting terrible snow at some point but it never came and I started to relax into the turns, plant poll, and turn, I kept repeating as I kept turning. I made it down to the bottom and my quads were on fire, it was probably the steepest and longest run that I’ve done this season and coming off close to a month of no skiing I certainly felt it. I met up with Lang and we debriefed quickly about our respective runs. We started heading out and then decided to head up towards a small pitch to get a faster track back to the car.

We skinned up and then quickly transitioned talking about which aspect to go down both settling on a cardinal direction that was not prone to avalanches (I’m terrible at naming cardinal directions and am mostly like it’s this direction and the other one was that direction). I went first and pushed off, trying to make longer and steeper turns. I was feeling overly confident when my ski looped a bit too far around and I tumbled, I got up laughing, of course. Both skis were still attached so I pushed back off again and made my way down to the skin track. Meeting up with Lang he asked if I had hit a rock, and I said no, just my large ego. He said he definitely thought I had hit a rock and I was like we’ll just go with that.

It was my first time skiing a couloir and was really grateful that Lang was game to take me. I feel like I’m becoming more confident in my skiing abilities and was telling Lang that I’m grateful for partners this year who take me out and keep giving me pointers. We’re rapidly approaching spring skiing season in Alaska and I’m very excited for what’s on the horizon.

In another first, this week I’ll be telling a story at Arctic Entires. It’ll be the second time since my brain injury that I will present without notes (I don’t typically use notes when I present but they serve as a nice safety blanket). After that I got to DC for two days and then I’ll back in Anchorage for a good chunk.

Mom and Dad with the carempackage for Arctic Entries- ha!

I joke that sometimes when I have a new experience I call them Fisher Price Moments, like bebe’s first experience. Grateful, again for all the new experiences that keep coming my way. Okay, now back to finishing unpacking so I can repack.

Spring is coming!

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Gothic Mountain Tour

On By kateginsbachIn Alaska, Alvin, colorado, skiing, Uncategorized, XC SkiingLeave a comment

I’ve gained weight, I don’t know how much or really where but it’s palpable. At first I thought maybe it was because of the chips I was eating, or the absorption issues getting better (more on that later). But then I realized that my body finally feels like it’s safe. Let me explain, from an evolutionary standpoint when we’re hunted by a predator, we try to get small, like really small as if that will keep us safe. Our bodies and minds haven’t exactly caught up to the modern world so the fight or flight persists to manifest in maladaptive forms. Anyways, when I did a skimo race last year, my friend asked how she could get so skinny, I half joked, have a panic attack. But it was true, I remember some days getting to the end of the day and realizing I hadn’t eaten anything and then would eat chips to try and compensate. This later became an issue when someone mentioned how odd it was that I ate chips so late at night, I realized that they didn’t realize that sometimes it was the only thing I had eaten. Anyways, it was a foreign place to be, I had always seen food as fuel, something that could sustain me on the long endurance races. A necessity, when I was in grad school I weighed myself every day to make sure I wasn’t loosing weight. I thought about this recently as I lined up for the Gothic Mountain Traverse. A race I had signed up for last year but didn’t make it to the starting line, last year I felt too weak, too fragile, too small. Instead I spent that weekend not racing hanging out with Allison and Kati while pouring out the contents of my brain. But it was a much needed weekend with them.

A little sickly looking here
Less sickly looking here

Fast forward to this year and I signed up for the race knowing that it would coincide with teaching in DC. Because I had left Alaska five weeks earlier I opted to not bring my race boots so I could just use the same boots for the Canada trip and this race (they required different skis, remember no skimo skis on the Canada trip). But by not bringing two pairs of boots I had more room in my suitcase to bring back Trader Joe’s to Alaska.

Texted a friend I had forgotten how big a medium was at Dunkin’

I took the bus to Boulder to get a car and pick up my skis (thanks again Dave and Neil for bringing them back after Canada). I finished up some work and stopped at Costco for the Crested Butte crew before picking Alexei up at the airport and heading to CB. We got in a bit late but Sam and Claudia (the cat) greeted us.

On Saturday morning, Zach made us crepes and we talked about a plan for the day. I told Sam I was down for whatever tour, as while I was there for a race wasn’t exactly prioritizing the race like I used to do. We headed out, only stopping to buy batteries as I had left my avy beacon on since leaving Canada and it was very dead. We headed up Snodgrass which I had only been on in the summer. Part of the skin track was on the race course so I just kept saying it was like a course preview. 

We got up to the top and poked over the ledge in a few places to see the best line down, we backtracked a bit and then transitioned. I took my skins off and then decided to go pee, which was quite hilarious when I went to squat, started peeing, and started sliding on my skis. Fortunately I was able to somehow not end up with any pee on me and stop the slide before I got too far but lesson learned.  

We decided I would go first because I didn’t have a radio, I told Sam my line and then pushed off. Except then I quickly tumbled and lost a ski, I heard Sam say, “what the fuck Kate” and reminded him I hadn’t skied in like a month. Alexei grabbed my ski as I had slid down and I put it back on— woof! Round 2! I pushed off again and immediately realized how much I had missed this in the past month. I cut down into the trees and weaved to a good stopping point. Alexei followed soon and then we cut over to meet Sam. Wow, this is nice, I might move to CB! The bottom half was even better with open glades for the taking. We got down to the end of the road and debating doing another lap, we realized where we had gone down didn’t exactly set us up for another lap and with a bib pick up cut off time decided to skin out. 

I got my bib with no problem, running into friends from Alaska and friends from Boulder. We went to the store to grab things for dinner and last minute race provisions. No such luck on the sour patch kids though. We stopped at the gas station where we were informed “they have the best candy section in town, maybe the valley” and they did. I had actually only been able to get some flavors in different countries and thought they were specific to those countries. So we bought 4 bags to be safe of different varieties. 

We got back to the house, made dinner, Sam adjusted my bindings for my boots and I prepped my stuff for the next day. There was a lot of discussion about going to karaoke but I was unsure with karaoke not starting until 9pm.

It didn’t take much to convince me to join karaoke and figured I would go for an hour and then come back and go to bed. I changed and then changed again when it became clear everyone was wearing costumes and dawned a banana outfit— any house that has a costume closet is my jam. I drove so I wouldn’t be tempted to stay out too late. It was well worth it, with the CB crew really showing off their voices and dance moves. One of the friends had a skinsuit as her costume, she asked if I wanted to borrow it for the next day, “it’s a kid’s x-large, I found it at a thrift store.” Ohhh maybe, that could be fun”, but was concerned about the weather and if it would actually keep me warm. By the end of the evening I was convinced I would wear it if I could fit my layers underneath it. I stayed out a bit later than I had planned but got a skinsuit and a top 10 at karaoke. 

The morning of the race came early, the race started at 6 so I got up around 4:30, made coffee, ate breakfast, and toiled around a bit. I put on wool baselayers and then pulled the skinsuit over, oh wow, this is amazing.

I shoved the rest of my layers into my bag anticipating having to put them on at the start line as previous years it had been -20. I had almost left the house when I realized I needed my skis. I grabbed them and got in the car, leaving the house a little later than I had planned but fortunately everything is close. I looked at the temperature in the car, 20 degrees. That can’t be right. I got to the school, put some last minute things in my bag, my helmet and headlight on and headed to the start. In talking to people the night before it seemed like the start tactic would be to go without skins and skate. I’m not a fan of skate skiing but figured they knew best. I slotted into the start and made conversation with the girl next to me, it was also her first time. She said she thought I was very serious because of my skinsuit, I told her I borrowed it from a lady at the bar last night so not that serious.

We started and I started, pushing off to skate, okay this isn’t too bad, definitely faster than on skins, I can do this, I was kicking and gliding when something got tangled and I starfished face first onto the track, oh my gosh please don’t hit me. I scampered up, well at least I got that out of the way and was relatively unscathed, and because it was dark no one could see my bruised ego. I followed the headlights in front of me feeling the divide between the skaters and the skinners opening up. I got to the spot to transition and put on my skins and stepped back onto the course. The next section zigged and zagged over the Nordic trails, but we remained mostly in a congo line going up the single track. I wondered if those in front had to break trail and thanked myself for not being that fast.

I got to the first descent, transitioned and set off, convinced that I’d be able to make up time on the descents. I think of it similarly to mountain biking where I feel confident taking the B line to make up time (I’m sure my friends who have seen me ski are like, “plz Kate don’t ever take the B line, your mountain bike skills are non-transferrable). I was going down the groomer and feeling pretty fresh, I saw a little jump and took it which fed into the next transition area. I unlocked my heels to put my skins back on but one of my heels was already released, oh maybe I didn’t actually step in properly. Then I looked, oh that’s not right and the heel attachment was gone but the tower was still there. I looked behind me as if it would be there. I thought about bailing, I mean I was only 3 miles into the race but realized I didn’t really need a heel piece.

I decided I would keep going, there would be one more descent before Snodgrass and if it was sketchy I could bail and walk back to Zach and Mary’s. I sent a text to the boys with a photo and kept going. I thought of how it could have happened but it didn’t really matter and just hoped I could warranty it.

We climbed on the resort trails until reaching the first cut off point where it was another transition point. The guy behind me told me that was a tough time cut-off but we were in good shape. I had no idea and asked if he had done it before, a few times he said. I ripped my skins and locked my one boot in and took off. The descent felt pretty normal so I decided I would be fine without a heel piece (granted this was on groomers). I transitioned again and then headed up the Snodgrass track that we had taken the day before. The Alaska friends passed by me on this section, one having raced it the year before said they were just here to mostly tour and have fun. I felt similar even though I was in a pretty fancy skinsuit. I followed them for a bit until I fell off and settled into my pace. I made sure to occasionally grab a handful of sour patch kids. I got to the top of the next transition, the guy behind me was like “Oh wow, you’re missing your heel piece” And I was like “oh yeah, but now my ski is lighter!” The guy doing the checks asked if I wanted a ski strap and I said I had one but also like absolutely not was I going to strap my boot to my ski. I figured this would be the real test, as it was a little more powder and no groomers. I reminded myself that my right ski was stronger so to rely on that if I needed to. I started the descent and went skiers right looking for the flagging to tell me I was going the right way. I stopped as I couldn’t see the flagging anymore, I figured either way would end up on the road but waited till I could see another skier through the trees to my left and headed in that direction.

I got down to the road and debated putting my skins back on, some were skating so I decided to skate for a bit until it wasn’t worth it. The skate didn’t last long and soon I was putting on my skins, chatting with others on the way. I was familiar with the Gothic Road from the summers I spent riding in CB up to the 401 trail but the ski route went up the 403 trail. After skinning the road for a bit we turned off to start the climb– a guy near me told me that it was just 2,000 feet up and then you’re mostly done with climbing. With that encouragement I settled in and adjusted my pace. And up I went, a bit slow at times, some movements felt more laborious than others. I thought of my roommate Hailey’s instagram post from early that week, she talked about giving 100% of what you had in that moment and not just a blanket 100% (she definitely articulated it much better than I just did). I kept going up, and eating, and drinking. My mind kept wandering over the past year, the ridges and grooves that brought me back to myself– the absurdity of having gotten so lost in the first place. I got near the top and stopped to put on my shell and my warmer mittens. The wind had picked up and was blowing snow. I got to the top, called Top of the World, and took in the view, or what would have been the view if it wasn’t socked in, oh well next year. I ripped my skins and headed down. Someone told me that it was a straight line down to the next point and the last descent was the most technical. This was mostly true and while I didn’t exactly straight line, I did get down pretty quick. I stopped to transition again, I had my puffy gloves on and in the midst of it all it got caught in my jacket zipper and ripped, exposing all the feathers. They floated around and kept coming out, I don’t know how they fit so many feathers into such a small patch because a few miles later I still had feathers circulating around me.

I got to the final transition for the last descent. Another volunteer was directing where the line was. I looked down and while tracked out it didn’t seem like any powder at this point. I stood there for a moment and a guy came up behind me. “You’re the girl without the heel piece right?” I looked at him and said that was me, he told me to be careful on this descent. Sometimes I get annoyed when that happens but he had genuine concern in his voice as if he realized how easy it might be for me fumble this one. I let him take the first line so I could follow. I started going down and it was definitely a bit of survival skiing. I followed the tracks but the snow had gotten a bit more harder packed, I leaned onto my right leg to cut the turns. My legs were a little tired at this point and the hill down was pretty long, I stopped to release my legs and straighten them out. I noticed the guy in front of me would occasionally glance back, as if to make sure I was still okay in my descent. With a few more stops (it was a long descent) I made it to the bottom and the final check-in. They said there was an angry moose so a bit of a course reroute. But still about 6 miles from the finish but overall a net loss. In talking to people it also seemed like the best approach was to skate ski until you couldn’t and then put skins on. In all my winter skiing this year, I had done about 30 minutes of skate skiing total.

I started skating and I have terrible form but still managed to move faster than those around me with skins. Kick, glide, kick, glide, trying to channel all my physical therapy tools to keep my hips forward, upper body up, and channel my two roommates who actually grew up skate skiing. I got to the bottom of a big uphill, net loss my ass. The guy next to me took his skis off to boot pack. I opted for the same approach, realizing that transitioning twice would take longer and because I mostly penguin walk up hills figure it would be the same amount of time but just different muscles. I got to the top, put my skis back on and started back with the skating. I had no idea how much further I had to go, I opted to not race with my watch but did have the mileage on my phone but it wasn’t exactly easily accessible. I made sure to keep eating and drinking.

I was skating along when a snowmachine pulled up with Zach and Sam on it. I stopped and we chatted for a bit, offering them my sour patch kids, they told me I was close to the finish. I told them about the day and they told me where they were headed to ski. Sam said his machine had broken down about 100 yards from the finish so when I saw it I would know I was close. I thanked them and headed back on my way. It was around here that I thought about switching skis, my right leg had been attached to the heel piece for all of skating but my left leg was stronger so thought by switching maybe I would get a little further each time. I stopped and switched skis with my right heel being free now. I went to push off and it was like my brain stopped working, I could not go forward with any grace. I started laughing, how is this happening. I switched my skis back and wondered if anyone just saw the calamity. I started skating again and saw the course deviate a bit, I took my glove off to grab some sour patch kids and when I went to put it back on I couldn’t find it. I looked behind me and some lady said she would grab it, I stopped and waited offering her candy in exchange for my glove which she took some candy. I got up a short pitch and a woman on a fatbike rode by saying the finish was just around the corner and all downhill from there. I was skeptical but then I saw Sam’s snowmachine.

I got through the finish and that was that. I saw the friends from Alaska and chatted with them about the course waiting for the shuttle. I got on the shuttle and recognized the guy who had warned me about descending, I asked if that was him and he was like yeah I was worried you were going to blow a knee, I thanked him for his vigilance. Especially because blowing a knee had never actually crossed my mind.

I got back to the car and was feeling so fresh I thought I might go meet Alexei at the resort for a lap or two but decided to go home and shower first so I didn’t get cold. After the shower the exhaustion hit me and instead I laid on the couch catching up with Mary and waiting for everyone else to arrive and talk about their near-misses of the day. We all opted for an early bed that night.

On Monday, Alexei and I headed out to tour before heading back to the front range. We opted for a more mellow tour both being unfamiliar with the terrain but we found great little laps and the sun even making a few appearances exposing the valley, which would have been cool to see during the race, oh well, next year!

I spent the rest of the week in Boulder with Dave, Allison, and Ruby, catching up with other friends over dinner, going to Banff Film Festival, and getting an early morning lap in (where I forgot my skins but kind of made do).

I’m back in Alaska but for a work conference in Fairbanks and next week back in DC for a bit more work but then will be back in Alaska for a good chunk. Arriving back in Alaska no longer brings a sense of uncertainty with it and instead this immense gratitude for all that has grown around me. The past few weeks with traveling and reconnecting with friends has made me examine my value system, the standards I have for myself and how I show up in relationships and the expectations that I have for others. It made me think of the race because during it one guy made a comment to me “skimo skis aren’t great for skiing, huh?” and I was like why are you telling that to me, of course I know they aren’t great for skiing but like I’m not here to ski well, obvi. But realizing he was probably going through some shit and was projecting whatever onto me. Instead I try to think of all those around me during the race who were cordial, gracious, and vigilant towards me. This is somewhat related to my personal life as I had a very abrupt rupture happen recently and trying not to dwelling too much on that point of inflection, instead remind myself of all the others that continue to surround and inspire me with their actions and words. Don’t worry the story is bonkers and it’ll be in the book but I no longer feel like I have to become small because of others (cue eating all the Trader Joe snacks I brought back).

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Bayes’ Theorem: K8 Learns to Ski

On By kateginsbachIn Alaska, Other Adventures, skiing, SwitzerlandLeave a comment

Four years ago François invited me on a hut trip, despite the fact that I hadn’t skied in 19 years. I borrowed an entire backcountry set up from Sully and carried 8 pounds of yogurt up the skintrack having no idea what to anticipate. Fortunately, everyone in the group was unbelievably kind for me being a newbie. Allison and Max Powers gave me pointers, Henri told me what to do in an avalanche (switch my beacon and get out of the way), François and Wayne made sure I didn’t get too big of a head— and met a whole another crew of humans who were friends of friends and now good friends (love it when that works out). It was so much fun and despite the fact that I thought the video Wayne took of me was in Slo-Mo (it was not) and where I picked up the Supernova nickname— it convinced me I wanted to take up skiing. 

I did a hut trip last March with most of the crew in Colorado where again I was on borrowed gear (I ended up getting the same pair of skis this year that I was on). It’s hard to remember much from that trip because I felt like I was still in such a freeze response (but certainly starting to thaw out). But remember how great it was to gather with friends, take some deep breaths in the mountains, and ski lines that seems inconceivable a few years before.

This year I had emailed them all about potentially going to Chamonix before I had to be in Geneva for work— they countered offer with a trip to Canada the same week and realizing I could make it work with work, signed on. It just required a lot of compartmentalizing when packing, dresses and heels for Switzerland, backcountry gear for Canada. And in true Kate fashion the days leading up to the trip I went skiing multiple times and postponed packing until 10pm the night before. 

I got to Calgary without much issue, my bags, however, did not. I met up with the rest of the crew and found out that Félix was also missing a bag. Both airlines guaranteed that when they arrived they would deliver them to us. We left Calgary and started the four hour drive to Revelstoke. 

Day 1: Revelstoke Ski Resort

We decided to ski the resort the first day and had a bit of a slow start to the morning. Danielle was able to outfit me with most of the gear I needed and the guys were able to get Félix going (including another ski set up). I decided to not ski Henri’s 190 skis (I ski 161 for context) and after dropping them off at the resort went to get a rental set up. Fortunately, I had packed my boots in my carry on. I got a similar set up to what I had, except a little longer skis (167). I made it back to the resort and took the two gondolas up to the top and met up with Max Powers to regroup with the others.

Max and I headed to the top after we touched base with the others to figure out a link up spot. The first run was a bit choppy as I got used to the new skis and the turning radius. I followed Max down to the bottom feeling somewhat like I was a rag doll that had just gotten tossed around. We found the others and headed back up the chair lift. I asked Max what all those bumps we hit were, if they were considered moguls. He informed me they were and I could just call them bumps— I said they were fun (they were despite getting tossed around) and that I wanted to work more on jump turns.

We got in another short run with everyone before taking the lift back up and boot packing to the top to get a different line going down. Danielle and Max gave me pointers for boot packing up the hill, hinging at the knee rather than the hip.

We got to the top and split into two teams of three, with Max P, Félix, and Henri taking one route down and François, Danielle, and I taking another. After entering through a slot in the rocks we had most of the run to ourselves and it lasted so long that I had to stop and delayer. We met back up and headed for one more lift as the resort was closing, we ended up dropping about 5,000 feet on the last run to get to the bottom, which was amazing and also a quad killer. We got done and learned that the aquatic center was not opened on Sunday ruining our plans for the evening but we rallied and packed the AirBnB hot tub. We met up with three more CO friends that evening who drove up to meet us.

Day 2: Christiana Glades

The next morning after Félix’s bag had shown up and mine had seem to have gotten lost somewhere between Seattle and Calgary, I went back to the rental shop to get what I’d need for the backcountry and some additional attire, we headed up to the visitor’s center on the pass.

Skiing on the pass requires a permit and registering with the park service. After getting our permits squared away we backtracked down the pass to head into Christiana Glades. We started up the skin track and I got use to all my new gear- we spent time swapping ski stories that we’d had thus far this season and all the fun things we’d get to do at the aquatic center later.

At some point the sun broke through the trees and I stopped to bask in it, feeling like it had been ages since it had really provided any warmth embrace. We went down and crossed through a gully to start skinning up the other side. After some discussion towards the top about how far till we turned around, we decided to keep going for at least 15 minutes and if we weren’t near the summit we would turn around. Soon after, the tree coverage broke and we were rewarded with views throughout the valley floor. I had Max Powers snap a few photos of me but in the process managed to fall over and get stuck in the snow. After I graciously got up, I went to put on my new helmet that I had got the day before and had tried on but this time it didn’t want to go on, what oh no, I readjusted my poorly tamed hair and looked at it, I had ended up with a kids helmet, well rung what ya brung and shoved it onto my head. I thought the color was maybe too much fun for an adult color… After that we split into teams again to pick our routes down. 

I looked around and it seemed like they had all disappeared into the woods, I followed a line down into the trees and was soon flowing in and out of the large trees and following similar lines down. Félix and Max P stayed in front of me and Félix would call things out for me, like you can hit that or it’s a soft landing. And it was true, the landings were soft which only helped to inspire my confidence knowing the landing would in fact be soft. I followed Félix down and stopped where a fallen tree had created a bit of a jump, seeing Félix take it he called back up saying it was good to go. I followed his line down but unlike him did not actually stick the landing but avoided crashing into Félix as well (which was really like sticking the landing).

We got done with the run and linked up again with the group. Danielle and I stuck together on the luge track of the skin track. I kept joking that it felt similar to Alaska with the light fading as we were coming out of the day. Félix and Max Powers met us at the bottom to provide some lights for our exit. As we were going up the last little pitch I said I was so excited for the aquatic center.

Upon cresting into the parking lot, we saw cars backed up on the highway. After some discussions with others in the parking lot we learned there had been a crash and the highway had been closed in both directions for nearly 2 hours. Not going to make it to the aquatic center. We hung out in the parking lot for about an hour before deciding to head in the opposite direction for dinner and wait for the highway to open up. We got dinner and then about 5 hours later we were back in Revelstoke. 

Day 3: McGill Shoulder

On Tuesday we split again, with the three from CO who had driven going to the resort and the 6 of us heading out to the same starting location. Instead of crossing down into the valley we would stay on the same side of the skin track and ski the shoulder (hence the name, McGill Shoulder). We got our permits and went back to the parking location, again having a bit of a slow morning to get going. We headed up the skin track and took a hard right to continue up the slope instead of venturing down the path we had hit the day before.

We climbed up again but not all the way to the top and transitioned. I took off both my skis which I learned why it was a big no-no when I fell into a tree well and couldn’t get out. My general approach is to tell them to not look at me as I fumble around but in true friendship form, they all grab their phones to document.

After I managed to get out we split up into teams again. I went with François and Danielle as we zipped and zagged through the trees. There were a few spots that were a bit more persnickety and we would go down one-by-one radioing when it was clear. The snow was so light as I moved through it, trying to use the natural objects to practice my jump turns and navigate tight spaces.

We got down and opted to go back up and do another lap, this time during the transition I left at least one ski on. Having some familiarity with the route I felt more confident going down and skiing a bit steeper things. Again meeting up after a wide opening with the group we navigated back to the skin track which was a bit more survival skiing through down trees.

Thank goodness Max Power had a super bright coat on so I would look for him and point my skis in that direction. We made it out and shot down the skin track and back to the cars. I waited with bated breath as we crested the last uphill before the parking lot. No cars backed up on the highway which was a good sign for the aquatic center.

We got back in time for the aquatic center which has a slide, a lazy river, and a diving board. I did a not so graceful entrance from the diving board, if you can imagine both my hands and feet hit the water at the same time as I was in an upside down U. After that I opted for the lazy river and hot tub while watching all the others take their turn on the diving board. We hyped up the aquatic center but for such a small town it was actually pretty great and a good way after three days of skiing to reset the body.

Day 4: Having fun isn’t hard when you have a library card

We were leaving Revy to go stay closer to Golden and we figured we would ski on the way. The only problem is that my ski bag was set to show up in Revy and could not be re-routed or delivered to Golden. Because we had two cars, we split into teams again. Henri and I stayed in Revy and went to the library to work and the others went and skied the Teddy Bear Trees. I was a bit bummed initially but overall happy to get my ski bag. I went for a run around the town and saw more parts of it. I currently have a friend who winters in the area and definitely keeping in mind coming back for a few more weeks next winter. My bag finally showed up and we did a quick stop at the grocery store on the way out of town. Because we had to pack everything up as we were checking out I had the realization that we would have to fit the three bags of groceries in the car– fortunately we made it to the house with only 4 eggs cracking on the way.

Day 5: Grizzly/Rodgers Run

We started the day as we had done previously, making large amounts of coffee and food and reading the avy forecast. What we had discussed doing the night before changed a bit with the addition of “deep persistent slabs” included for the first time in the avalanche forecast so we took a while to figure out a new route.

What we had thought about doing before would have required us to cross potential avy shoots but with this addition in we thought it was best to avoid those areas. We all settled on a plan for the day and headed out to get our permits. We didn’t go all the way to the summit and checked the slope angle a few times on the way up to make sure everything we’d be skiing wasn’t over the 34-35 degree range.

On the first lap I adjusted to my skis again, having wished I had been able to ski them in the resort, they were a little bit shorter and wider than my rental so the first few turns required getting reacquainted. We split into teams and my team went one by one down, we were weaving in and out of a previous avalanche run (it was totally safe mom) and the variable snow made me have to react quicker than previous days required. I was grateful for my skis and followed François’s line back into the trees before all meeting up at the bottom and deciding to do another lap.

On the skin up I struggled in a few spots with sliding backwards, even though D had been coaching me on more efficient kick turns. I caught up and the rest of the way it became a Kate therapy session with the boys and D, which was highly comical, cathartic, and reassuring.

Especially getting male friends’ perspectives on my dating life (probably best saved for a different blog post or my book) since they’ve known me for the duration of multiple relationships it’s always nice to have a check in on my choices. Like I’m probably asking for the right things just from the wrong people– and it’s okay if they don’t understand my work, it was pointed out that unless I wanted to date someone within the department of ag, it’s unlikely anyone will really understands what I do. We got back to the area we were just in to transition and planned to go the whole run down. Félix started by doing a star fish off a log jump.

I followed D and her lines through the trees and again took space for the avy path. We crossed over after it had run out and followed Félix off a log. Or more so stopped and watch Félix send it off a log into a very anti-climatic landing. We weaved in and out of the powder in the trees and I felt my turns come more easily. We got back on the skin track and waited to regroup. We looked at the chute nearby that a friend of a friend had skied before and talked about the approach and conditions for it- it was not something our group was comfortable undertaking in the conditions but everyone’s risk tolerance is different.

Day 6: Kickinghorse

Our final day we decided to go near the resort to ski a bowl in the out-of-bounds area. We ran into a very friendly guy in the parking lot who after we told him our plans actually suggested something closer that had been tracked out but was less prone to sliding at this point. We took his words and readjusted our plan and headed up towards his suggestion. We started skinning up one of the resort’s runs and I started talking about kickturns as the slope was gentle enough that I was able to practice. This led to Henri and Max Powers getting into a discussion about friction and mass and force and cars which carried on for a while as I just kept saying, “Kick….turn…kick….turn”.

I’m not sure what conclusion they reached but if anyone has any thoughts around if coefficient of friction is directly related to pressure, feel free to reach out. After that, François and Félix decided to opt out and take a half day pass and go ski the resort, Henri carried on for about 5 more minutes before also deciding to head down, leaving our team of three, Max Powers, D, and I. We kept going up, trying to figure out if we were even allowed to uphill at the resort but those that did come down didn’t say anything and there weren’t too many people on the run so we didn’t feel too weird about it.

We got to a juncture and ducked under the rope to get on a skin track. We chatted more about life, and the possibility or not possibility of kids, and the communities we want for the future, and what we like about our communities now. We got to the ridge and looked over, I was giddy with the possibility of skiing it but very quickly realized that the snow was not set for that step of an angle at the moment and we continued up to the summit where we would stay on the side of our skin track.

We transitioned, myself having practiced leaving both skis on and ripping the skins off (I can do it on my skimo skis but the heavier ones are a bit more challenging). And passed around the donuts and bacon I had packed for everyone from the left over breakfast.

Max P went first and I followed. I pushed off into low angle (29 degrees) glorious powder. I took bigger turns and floated through the apex, feeling the force pushing back into my skis at I pushed through the turns. I regrouped with Max P in some trees and waited for Danielle to come down. We went a bit further down before stopping and debating if we had time for one more one.

We all agreed we were okay either way and not coming to any real consensus I suggested we do one more. We got back up to the top and discussed taking a similar route down. I went first and focused on making tighter turns, planting my poles, and really looking down the fall line, and it all seemed to make a difference or at least felt like it.

We regrouped around the trees and party skied for the most part back to the skin track and out the way we came. Toward the bottom of the resort, soft sleet was falling making the snow sticky and grabbing our skis, cutting out any smooth skiing we thought we’d be having. We got down to the end and met up with the others to regroup and make our plan for the rest of the evening. We split up to get groceries and drinks and meet back at the house.

We spent the evening reliving parts from the week until it was nearly 1 am an we realized we needed to pack to leave the next day.

We all got off to our respected locations the next day, Félix checked my ski bag for me for Colorado so I wouldn’t have to haul it for Geneva for a few work meetings. Skiing with them I felt incredibly lucky for all the pointers and tips they gave me and in a way that only inspired confidence. I’ve realized how lucky I’ve been with ski partners this year and feel like I’ve been able to build out more of my skills as a result. Taking up a sport as an adult can be incredibly humbling but it’s also amazing to be able to see actual growth and progress happening. I’ve been cycling for so long that sometimes it’s hard to see any real marginal gains. It’s also really nice to be at point in my life and our lives where we can all take a week off and go ski somewhere. I’ve since mostly recovered from the jet-lag of Canada to Geneva. I finally got a pedicure as Henri pointed out that the only people with worse feet than skiers are ballet dancer so didn’t exactly set myself up for success this fall by getting back into ballet.

I thought a lot on this trip about snowpacks with the constant analyzing of the snow since we were all unfamiliar with it, we were constantly taking in information and adapting. Much like life they are never static, it’s ever changing even once it’s buried, changes in temperatures, precipitation, humidity and wind can all turn a benign snowpack into a deadly one and vice-versa. As I continue to unpack and repack things I think about this a lot the snapshot in time, the factors that go into it– I mean even digging a pit, unless you’re collecting season long data, only really tells you about the snow in that pit or the surrounding area but if you get on a different slope or different face or different wind exposure all the snow could be different underneath you. So while sometimes I wander into the world of “what ifs or I’m worried about” I remember to just dig my pit and take stock of the information I know now and trusting in myself that I can recalibrate if needed.

Bayes’ Theorem is is a mathematical formula for determining conditional probability. Conditional probability is the likelihood of an outcome occurring, based on a previous outcome having occurred in similar circumstances. Bayes’ theorem provides a way to revise existing predictions or theories (update probabilities) given new or additional evidence. Somehow the trip went from “K8 learns how to ski” to Bayesian K8 which was then pronounced Bay-shin…anyways you probably had to be there but if you want a souvenir sticker, holla!

Up next, the grandest of canyons!

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The Storm Outside

On By kateginsbachIn Alaska, Mental Health, skiingLeave a comment

This week Anchorage received a massive snow storm—schools were cancelled for 3 days because the plows were unable to tackle all the roads in time (a massive policy failure if you ask me). No matter, I didn’t have to drive and I don’t have kids. But waking up on Wednesday and seeing all the snow certainly made me giddy like a little kid. Text messages started flurrying, who was going to ski; where and when? I had a meeting that I could not miss at 9am so needed to find people willing to wait till 10. I found not one but two. We met to carpool at 10:20 and were headed to Turningan Pass by 10:30. There were a few cars in the parking lot and we saw 2 avalanche forecasters also heading out. We started skinning up and talk about death once again found me—I don’t even bring it up anymore because I’ve been told that I talk about it too much—but I’ve found that it’s a common topic in Alaska or maybe I just attract it. Like in the L48 snakes always seem to find me and since there aren’t any snakes in Alaska maybe I just attract people who are comfortable talking about death. But despite being told that it’s weird to talk about, we’re headed out into terrain and doing activities that could kill us all the time– I think it’s weird not to acknowledge it.

Anyways, back to death. We talked about the different risk that activities bring, snow vs. water, which ones carry higher consequences and how risk isn’t cumulative but we treat it as such. All the decisions that go into risk mitigation and how skewed everyone felt during COVID-19. I was almost relieved someone else said it, that they felt their risk perception had also changed during the pandemic. Mine certainly did but I also know others who became more riskier, like they were trying to get it out of their system somehow. That happened when I first started grad school and my racing took a back seat, I would get small adrenaline rushes by turning in assignments as close to the deadline as possible without it being late (it was never late and I soon learned how to channel that energy into more productive things). With all the new snow we talk about avalanche conditions and opted to start with a lap in the lower section in the trees where it would be more stable. We transitioned on a little knob and then talked about the different lines down and our next connection point.

After I pushed off, the snow parted as my skis carved through the powder and I felt like I was floating with the ground breaking away. I pushed into the snow to turn and would quickly (or what felt like) whip back the other way, trying to drive my skis through the deep powder without getting swamped. We regrouped at the bottom and transitioned back deciding to go back to where we were and do another lap from there. We skinned up, cursing those that had put in a steep skin track but we got back up there quick enough. We took a different line down but it was the same feeling of cutting through the snow and feeling like I’m the best skier ever (I’m absolutely not, very far from it) but powder is magical and it makes you feel magical. We got to the bottom and seeing the clouds break decided to make a push for the summit and if it socked back in we could take the skin track down.

On the way up this time we talked about breakups with one of the guys’ recently getting out of a relationship. I pointed out it’s been interesting because post breakup it’s like with COVID when you realize you just have different values than other people and how they show up in their lives—it’s like learning your cousin is an anti-vaxxer and you’re like okay well if this hadn’t happened I wouldn’t have known this and how do I continue to show this person grace. Same thing, post breakup when you see a different side or maybe not even different you just don’t have the same lenses on anymore and you’re like ohhhh well if we hadn’t broken up and/or even gotten together in the first place I wouldn’t have seen this side of you and how do I keep showing this human grace despite it all. How much does the unspoken assumptions do more damage than anything else but I mean we all have free will (right, Dave) so what are you going to do. And like most communities, Anchorage is pretty small so showing grace seems to be the best option, I recently realized just how small it is but that’s better left for a different medium. Anyways, back to skiing.

We got to the top and felt lucky that we were still in the weather window of the clouds breaking and we’d have a clean line all the way down. We ran into another friend at the top and talk about the conditions and where everyone might be skiing this weekend. Then one by one we pushed off, I followed lines down, trying to work on my turns and trying my best not to squeal at the amount of powder we were in. We regrouped and talk about the next line. I went second and was hooping and hollering when I hit a rock and rolled, even in powder the landings are soft. The guy behind me followed me and not realizing that I hit a rock also hit it and was soon on the ground by me, both of us laughing. We got up and followed each other through the trees, I saw the tracks going through a section and didn’t exactly peak, push, roll that I teach in mountain biking but instead followed the tracks thinking everything was mostly roll able. It was not and instead I slow-mo tumbled off the side of a rock and then rolled down onto a ledge where I did one more roll before landing. Again, the powder proved to be a soft landing and laughing I got up, apologizing for the delay it caused. They didn’t seem to mind and once they realized I was unscathed talked about how hilarious it was to watch. I gathered my ski that had come off and met them at the bottom. We talked about the next line and decided to head back to the car after that long run.

I got back in time to break trail for Wednesday Worlds—we slogged through about 2 feet of powder to put in a little skimo loop, the first lap being almost an hour of breaking trail and the second lap once it had been packed down was closer to 25-30 minutes. To give you perspective, the loop usually takes 15-20 minutes. I caught a ride to the trail thinking I would ski home but soon realized the normal 30 minute ski would probably be another 2 hours of breaking trail and caught a ride back–thanks again Maddy!

I got home and posted on Instagram to see if anyone had the next day off as I would finish my meetings early enough in the morning and could make up hours later in the evening when I was done skiing. I wasn’t sure anyone would bite but someone reached out but wasn’t sure it would work out so also starting thinking about how to ski from my house. In the morning we touched base again and I told her what I was thinking—it was loop I had run about 7 weeks before; it was about 13 miles but would put us on the top of Wolverine to ski down but it would be a bit of a slog to get up there. Much to my surprise she was game.

We decided to drive to a closer trailhead and start where we would take out on the trail just to save time and were skinning up the road by 10am. We didn’t think it would make much difference how we got to the top of the first hill because everything was covered in snow so we just started heading up, navigating through alders before finding what seemed like a little trail with clearing from the brush but the trail did not exist on any map so we decided to just keep taking it up figuring at some point we would get where we needed to be. We alternated breaking trail and I had much appreciation for those who put the skin tracks in that we all follow. Some of the navigation was rather comical, what seemed like a clean uphill track proved to be rather challenging with the angle and the loose snow.

We soon intersected with the actual trail up and laughed that there was an actual track that we could have been on for the first part but hopped onto it and saved some energy. We kept going up and about half a mile from the top the wind started picking up and blowing snow, we put on a few more layers and kept going. We made it to the top after getting in one persons downhill tracks that were quickly filling in with blowing snow. The top looked very different covered in snow, the wind had picked up and cornices were forming, like white caps in the ocean. We quickly had a snack and kept moving. We navigated the backside and dipped low to carve a wide angle into the hillside before looping back around to get onto the ridge line that we would boot pack to get closer to the summit to ski down (again, can’t believe someone was game for this).

Before the wind picked up

The last time I had done this run I listened to a podcast about a couple in Alaska who after a one received a terminal diagnosis decided to die together on their own terms (small world but after listening to that realized a friend had bought the guys’ sailboat). I thought about that time I was back here traversing the hillside going through my own death and rebirth. And also thought about what it meant to love a person so deeply that you simply don’t want to exist without them–is that the level of commitment people should be willing to undertake in a relationship? Again, good reasons that I’m single because that’s definitely not my thinking. I’m not even sure how we got on the topic but once again we landed on death, with my ski partner being in the medical profession we talked about how she navigates it and how I navigated it when I was in the hospital. We also talked about all the environmental impacts of embalming and when she questioned out loud how that even started I enthusiastically was able to respond having just read a book by a funeral director and the culture around the industry. We both agreed that our culture doesn’t do death very well and she recommended the book The Tibetan Book of Living and Dying.

We still had to get to the ridge on the right in this picture

We skirted around to the ridge line, traversed between the rocks and tried to tuck behind a larger rock to gain shelter from the wind while we took our skis and attached them to our packs. The rock offered little protection and despite how heavy my skis are I was worried they would just get ripped out of my hands as I wrestled with the straps to attach them to my pack. I grabbed another snack as quickly as I could and we started hiking up. It proved to be pretty easy because the wind had moved enough of the snow and we could navigate from rock-to-rock-tundra to get some stability. Occasionally, I would step out onto what I assumed was solid ground and my entire leg would plunge through the snow quickly making me renegotiate my way across. The wind was vicious and the snow was getting whipped into the one spot on my body that was exposed, my left face cheek. I tried not to take it personally but realized that a nose guard might be in my future (another obscure thing that only seems to exist in Alaska).

After about an hour of hiking up we popped over to look at the run, huh, not great, we tucked back in and navigated up a bit further. We looked at the line we had initially thought of running but with all the wind activity thought dropping in would prove the most perilous. We moved again, finding a spot between rocks that gave us a clean view. The line didn’t seem to have much wind effect and it was low angle- we talked about the reasons we shouldn’t do it and decided we were okay with the amount of risk that it came with (very low, risk mom, don’t worry).

Still unclear if I have windburn or frost nip on my face

With the line I would take she would have eyes on me the whole time in case something went and then I would see her the whole time. Because it was my idea I felt like it was only fair that I went first–not for a clean line but in case I triggered an avalanche, sorry mom. I pushed off trusting our knowledge and ability to respond if something did happen. It didn’t and the snow proved to be the playground that you can only dream of as a kid. The minutes went by fast but the seconds went by slow as I took it all in. I got down to the meeting point and gave the signal. I watched similar turns to mine come down the mountain. I couldn’t believe it.

Totally worth the 6 hour uphill to get this line

We met up and talked about how great that was and the fact that we actually got our objective as we both doubted it would be do-able at multiple points. Where we stopped didn’t prove to be a steep enough angle and with all the powder and we had to work to get going again. Despite that we linked up with an uphill track and worked our way the rest of the way down the mountain. I would ski in the track and then pop out when I felt like I needed to slow down a bit with the powder doing enough to slow my momentum. We took our skis off twice to hike up short little hills to get out, as the snow proved too deep to want to do any side-steeping. We exited the trail just as the moon was rising and darkness was sweeping through the valley floor. We didn’t even need to pull out our headlamps. We were glad that we didn’t start from my house because that would have added 4 more miles to the route—but it’s on my list of things to do. We got done and went over the events of the day–we ended up skiing for about 7 hours but really to only go downhill for about 30-40 minutes of that and really with only about 4 minutes of powder turns but made those 4 minutes all the more magical. I felt lucky that I found someone last minute who had the day off to do it with me.  

I’m trying to get as many skis day in because I’m going to Canada with some of my friends from Colorado and well they can all ski laps around me so trying to at least get my legs ready for 7 days of skiing. I’m pretty excited but trying to act cool so they’ll invite me again—haven’t decided if it would be too much if I showed up with t-shirts that say, “Bayesian Kate Learns to Ski” – or “geological time is now” sorry that’s a joke that only 9 people might get and I’m sure none of them read this.

After Wednesday Worlds, we were in the parking lot talking and eating chocolate I had brought back from Italy when one of the guys said that he feels like he’s really coming into his time, like this is it. I was almost taken aback, are we allowed to admit these things out loud? I decided if he could, I could too and I said yeah, I feel like I’m also entering my time, and I’m really excited about everything and feel like it’s all coming together and I’m finally thriving, not just surviving. Then I thought about this book I was recently reading from an author that I’ve read a lot of books from and she told the story of how she kind of lost it on an airport worker and I was like what, you’ve been writing about how to operate in this world with kindness and grace for like 30 years. And I started thinking is she different than she was, have any of these things change the way she interacts with the world or do we just fall back into old habits at some point and write about what you did so others can learn but you don’t actually learn. I had an intense therapy session last week (probably why I wanted to get outside so much this week) where my therapist suggested meeting myself with compassion instead of judgement, for thanking myself for doing what it needed to do to survive, even if that felt like getting myself lost. I guess what I’m saying is that I still wonder, despite feeling like it’s my time and I’m finally on solid ground, what the future will look like and what I will look like and how I will navigate through it all, how will I show up in certain situations. But I suppose it’s just like a big outdoor objectives where you do what you need to survive until you can thrive, adapt as needed, pack a lot of sour patch kids and trust that you will see yourself through.  

And get by with a little help from my friends

the storm inside you isn’t trying to kill you. it’s trying to save you. from the mercilessness of the universe.

you are not meant to be at peace with yourself. they’re selling you lies. 

you are meant to rage. and to look where no one dares to look. 

you are meant to seek lightening. hell, even become it. 

genius is not born in quiet. 

it’s the child of chaos. 

you can either run from it or embrace it. but you sure as hell cannot be free from it. 

i imagine myself to be a writer. old wrinkly hands, and my children crying at the poems i wrote. 

pain, unleashed, is the real becoming.

–this was definitely taken from somewhere but I cannot find the credit but it’s not my words just seemed fitting

Jane said this blog was a little Debbie Downer and didn’t think it was reflective of how much joy I’ve been showing these days– but I suppose just like finding joy and happiness in the dark right now outside maybe that’s what I’m doing inside. Stay tuned for more Pollyanna. Oh, and Team Couch will be riding again! We all got into the White Mountains 100 in March– TBD if I’ll be biking, skiing, or running. Lolz

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Never Enough

On By kateginsbachIn Alaska, Cycling, cyclocross, Endurance Races, Mental Health, Other Adventures, Uncategorized, XC Skiing1 Comment

Even before getting to the start of the Maah Daah Hey 150 people would ask me what was next. Next? I hadn’t even thought about that so I would joke that I was going to retire. Part of me maybe wasn’t joking. It’s been the first bike race in my life where I didn’t have something immediately lined up afterwards– I think I wasn’t even fully convinced I would get to race this year and the other part knew that if I did, I wasn’t sure what the after would look like. Instead of rushing off to the next event, I’m absorbing all that has transpired and releasing what’s also been contained in my body for so long. It’s like a long savasana and my body is finally in a state of resurrection.

Three years ago I wrote about death and the novelty of the dark reaching Alaska. During that period, in the span of one week I had lost three clients and one co-worker and it seemed like death was closer than it had been in previous locations. That feeling didn’t go away once COVID hit, in fact it seemed to get closer as I would go into the backcountry without service for 24-48 hours and wonder what I would come back to– if I would miss the passing of a parent, relative, or friend. This was taking me away from being in the present and into the liminality between life and death.* Instead of coming back to life I was stuck in this transition space in-between it seemed like. I was just waiting to be released and go back to living. After the panic attack death felt so close and it felt so foreign, as someone who has been relatively comfortable with death for most of my life, maybe more than others. It felt like it was chasing me as I tip-toed around my brain, worried that somehow while suspended in this chaotic state I would die and spend the rest of eternity being anxious. Told you it was a wild ride. But in learning to release all this trauma it’s shown me a lot that got built up during COVID and finally feeling like I have some distance from death gave me new perspective on what that really meant or didn’t mean, I mean who really knows right. Now in a lot of ways I feel grounding that I haven’t felt since COVID, these days my grief is living closer to the surface but so is my joy. I no longer feel like I must plan activities days/weeks out to give my mind time to prepared and can envision a future that exists more than 2-3 days out. Why do I keep writing about this, well for part it’s cathartic but also ties into a lot of my experiences with the outdoors. But it also is starting to fit into the larger narrative of how to do I want to move forward in my life.

Three years ago what I was up to

After I returned to Alaska I did four cross races, two I previously wrote about. The last two included a night race and the other one in snow covered/icy field that my only real goal was to not crash and break my leg this close to ski season. I didn’t, instead I opted to hand out candy on the course to the spectators #plottwist — and we all made sure to celebrate Grande’s 40th birthday as she crossed the finish line. At some point this summer I had entertained the idea of going to cross nationals this year. Another friend up here, Mel was also thinking about doing it but we both realized our work schedules were a little too hectic to make it work this year. We both talked a lot about how racing is so different up here (for context, Mel and I raced against each other at national’s- she got 3rd and I got 5th) nobody is stressed about points or races, everyone is kind and pretty excited to be riding bikes. In a lot of ways, it’s what you want out of a cycling community. And even if cross seems to be dying in other parts of the country it continues to grow here– which makes me happy.

After the cross season wrapped up, I went to Ottawa, CA for work. Two of my friends and I decided to track our elevation for 2 months to help get in shape for ski season with a goal of at least 1200 ft/day. I spent time running there and finding stairs to get as much elevation as I could. It’s weird to travel and to present about COVID-19, it’s like a postmortem but the body is still moving.

When I returned to Alaska, I was able to get on skis, getting a few laps in Hatcher Pass with Charlotte the end of October. The first run of the season we took pretty mellow to see just how our ski legs would do after months off, not terrible. The snow glided under my skis, and it felt like no time had passed. We turned around for another lap where we climbed higher and we were rewarded with some nice pockets of powder and opted for another lap. I wasn’t sure I could find someone to ski on Sunday with so discussed with her a route that would work for low avalanche danger but could still get some elevation in (for the elevation spreadsheet).

I was able to get another friend, Nate to come with, he seemed pretty open to my ridiculous idea of skinning up to the ridge and then I would run down and he could ski down, the snow was a little sparse and he’s a better skilled skier than me, as he still teleskis (that’s how that works right?). I know the absurdity of this idea but I wasn’t sure my skill level was strong enough to get down the line I wanted. Instead, I left my running shoes in the car and after skinning up the road we saw a bowl that looked pretty good and made our way up, navigating above where Charlotte and I had been a few days before. I was on my lighter, skinnier skis than I would have liked but didn’t hesitate about climbing up. Nate and I ended up talking about death on the way up, he was raised Jewish which means they don’t have the same after life thoughts as Catholics, he joked that it was poor for recruitment but nice in terms of not having to concern yourself with where you ended up after you died. That seemed nice and I told him how close I had felt to death for so long, not in a suicidal sense, more that I would just die and I would be stuck like this forever– on top of feeling so incredibly isolated during COVID I wasn’t sure that I had made an impact in any community and had feelings of being incredibly disposable. I was so worried to do anything that would push me any closer into the death zone. Told ya not to trust your brain when it’s on fire.

I ripped my skins, and we discussed our lines down, the light was flat and so we opted instead for tracked out areas of snow instead of untouched powder. We got down, hooting and hollering despite the survival skiing methods being deployed and looped back around to the top of the road to take that down instead. Nate commented about a section to not trigger a slide, oh that’s right, avalanches, things that can actually kill me instead of my thoughts. We got done and Nate commented how I seemed like a strong skier already than when we had gone out last spring. I told him that having some distance from death and gaining confidence back in myself and self-trust seemed to make the biggest difference in terms of my ability.

For all you at home, don’t worry finally got my lighter (after this photo)

I’ve had a few more Fridays of skiing that I call ‘Ferda Girls Friday’ —Charlotte and I have somewhat similar work schedules and we’ve been trying to get out when we can. The skiing has been good up in Hatcher’s Pass or at least they have snow. One Friday had another friend, Julie join us as well, she dubbed it ‘Femme Fatal Friday’. Again, we warmed up with a road lap to scout out conditions, seeing more avalanche activity we picked a route up that wouldn’t leave us too exposed and would put us back where we had a been a few weeks earlier. We skinned up and on the first run down were surprised with the pockets of powder that existed, despite a few rocks poking up. We opted for another half run and took a different line down. The Anchorage scene is filled with incredibly strong women and in talking to them about everything from life, work, and relationships it seems like my challenges aren’t unique to just me, which is reassuring, and almost comical for how long I held things in thinking I was the only experiencing these things. Not only do I get to bounce life and work ideas off of them, I also get to follow their lines down. On the last run I took a nice little chunk out of my ski, despite not realizing until I went to put my skins back on. I joked that it was okay, because I needed a pair of rock skis anyways.

After that I headed to Singapore for work where I traded in my down jacket for tank tops and sandals. I opted for running outside when I could, having some familiarity with the city from being there this summer. The jet-lag often meant that I had a lot of places to myself at 4am. Into the dark I would head and not think anything of it- a stark difference from where I had been a few months ago. The darkness seemed to be a place I didn’t want to go, I was already spending too much time there in my mind and was fearful that surely there was more that could kill me in the dark than in the light. In a weird way being able to poke further into the dark spots in my mind and hold space for them has allowed me to hold and reclaim space in the darkness. What was once feared is back to feeling like an old friend. I would dash around the botanical gardens and despite being next to a large metropolitan was easy to get into the dark spaces and revel in them.

Maybe it’s also because in the dark I don’t get sunburnt because after we had some time after work and spending an hour or so outside, I got too much sun, threw up (totally normal), and I joked with my coworker that’s why I live as far away from the equator as possible.

I got back to Alaska with one weekend in between arriving from Singapore and leaving for Italy. Opting to try to make the most of it, I found a cabin down on the Kenai to ski into. Charlotte joined and what started as thinking of going to the cabin grew into backcountry skiing on the way down and carrying skates in to skate on the lake by the cabin before heading back out and if there was enough time to ski again on the way home. We couldn’t find anyone else to join us (Fridays are hard) and left late morning. We got to Turnagain pass and were pleasantly surprised to find the weather was nicer than anticipated. We skinned up and again looked for routes to go down as the recent weather had created a weird crust on top. Charlotte is an incredibly strong overall athlete and has really good skiing technique so I often let her go first and then will try to follow her tracks, turning where she did and making similar descents. Which sometimes works but more often than not I’ll veer out of her line and try to gain some control to get it back.

We found nicer snow lower down but only opted for one lap so we wouldn’t arrive to the cabin too late. We rearranged things in the parking lot, putting away our backcountry gear and getting our Nordic gear and re-packing our packs for the ski in. About an hour later we got to the trailhead and we were on the trail quickly but moving on the trail proved to be less than quick.

The snow was patchy, and we would alternate between gliding and having to pick up our skis and walk on what seemed to be ice on top of dirt and rocks. After one up-hill switchback tiltering on the icy/rock mess I toppled over the side of the hill but luckily only had 1-2 tumbles down before stopping with my pack and skis still attached. I somehow avoided any underlying brush that could have been problematic. I unsnapped my pack and skis and hopped back up to the trail taking note of anything that might have been impacted. Surprisingly good to go. We kept making our way down the trail and after another mile or so we opted to instead take our skis off and hike in. The snow had covered the alders and weighed them, so the branches were often covering the trail requiring more navigation than we at points were wanting to do. After about 4-5 hours we made it to the cabin around midnight and with getting a fire going and making food finally got to bed around 1:30am deciding we would figure out what things looked like in the morning for our activities.

Throughout the night I could hear snow sluffing off the roof with the warmer temperature, at one point convinced someone else was in the cabin but was too sleepy to actually investigate. The morning brought a bit of a drizzle and after a fire and breakfast we packed up most of our things and went to the lake to check out ice skating. Charlotte used her ice screw to determine we had at least 4 inches thick to skate on and in that time period I realized that I had the wrong mount for my boots and skates- ha! Well, something had to go array on this 24 hour frenzy. Charlotte skated around near the shore, avoiding a large crack across the ice and I walked out on to the frozen lake. One of the distinct memories from last January is skating on a frozen lake and being absolutely terrified, like so much so that I became almost paralyzed and had to be gingerly coaxed back to shore—this was despite all the cars that were parked on the ice for ice fishing. I remember thinking that at any moment I would just plunge through and at that time I wasn’t convinced I would be able to fight to stay alive, I was too weak physically and mentally, and that I would just simply perish. And despite the current ice being in the same molecular state I felt grounded with a renewed sense in myself.

We didn’t spend too much time on the lake but enough to make it worth carrying an extra set of boots and skate into our packs. We made our way back to the cabin, repacked our boots and skates in our bags and headed out. Thinking we would at least start skiing and hoping to at least get a mile in before we’d have to hike. We hit the trail and we were pleasantly surprised, the warmer temperature meant that most of the snow had fallen off the branches with the trail being mostly clear of the wood that had posed so much hassle the night before. We were able to ski out for about 5 miles before having to switch to hiking, almost the exact opposite of what we did the night before. We got back to the car as night was approaching and didn’t even discuss getting a backcountry lap in on the way home. We watched the temperature not even dip below freezing on the drive back and wondered what the rain would do to the snowpack that was already being formed for the season.

In between, I’ve tried to start a ‘Wednesday Worlds’ group- there is a small contingency of those who have been showing up (mostly Charlotte and Mary) to hike and now hoping to consistently be on skis to get some hot laps in– but if anything it helps to get me out of the house and do something on Wednesday, often later than I would. I keep thinking it’ll be one of those if you build it they will come and going for the long game here but if you have some skis and want in, let me know!

I still have a lot of guilt and some shame about how I showed up during COVID and the panic attack, and while it’s been a long recovery for me, I also feel like it’s been a long recovery for my support system. Now having more space from that gives me a new perspective on everything. In a lot of ways, it’s similar to bike racing, there are highs and lows and you try to learn what you can and keep moving forward hoping that the highs will be enough to carry you through. One thing that I deviated from with racing is that my general approach with my support crew is it’s not their problem, I’ll let them know what I need but they shouldn’t panic. Well with COVID I feel like I let that line blur and did not necessarily contain my problems. The lows certainly damaged relationships and I’m grateful for those friends and family who keep showing me grace with how I can show up some days. And while I certainly wish there were some things I could do over much like a bike race you take what you can from it and keep moving forward accepting that sometimes there just aren’t any do overs to be had. In some ways I feel like COVID and the panic attack resulted in the biggest bonk of my life and much like experiencing that during a race, you take the lessons you can from it so that you never get to that space again.

How do you continue to live and love with so much uncertainty. How do you stay in love with the world amid so much loss? Nevertheless, you love, you’re injured and you inflict injuries, you throw people away then try to get them back, we yearn for one another in sickness and in health.

Love in the time of Contagion

Where does this leave me, well the future is much easier to plan, and getting outside in the dark is no longer anxiety inducing so I asked my coach to keep coaching me for skimo racing with a few races on tap in the L48 when I have to be down to teach later in the winter. I also signed up for a stage race in Iceland next summer (you didn’t really think I would be done biking did you). But it’s also leaving space for what comes my way, a hut-to-hut running trip in Switzerland, that sounds fun, going backcountry skiing in Canada, ohhh I can definitely make that work.

Or I can go as long as I don’t break any more rules

I’m also trying to work on the balance of not wearing myself down to get anywhere close to a breaking point again. In a lot of ways that means that it feels like there is never enough time while simultaneously having to be okay with the time that I have. One of the biggest things I’ve been tackling in therapy is this duality—that I can love my job and love where I live (before it felt like I would always have to pick one), I can love my work on pandemics and really hate that the pandemic happened, I can have doubt while also knowing that I’ll land on my feet, I can be afraid and still take the leap, I can hold space for all these things, or at least try to hold space for all these things. One thing that has helped me a lot recently is when someone told me, “it’s okay to not be okay, but it’s also okay to be okay while others are not.” That literally feels life changing for me.

Scouting ski routes and making plans for the future

I’m in Italy this week for work but will be back in Alaska next weekend in hopes that the snow has finally stuck around in Anchorage. I also convinced a friend to come with, it didn’t take much convincing but appreciate being at the point in my life that friends have disposable income and PTO. We’ll be in Milan for about a day where we’ll meet up with a former co-worker and then I’ll head off to Trento for work and she’ll go Venice before we meet back up in Milan and head to London, where I’ll continue onto Anchorage and she’s tacked on a few other sidequests.

I guess I continue to write more about my personal life (I mean is it any more than normal, I’m sure my mom would suggest not-ha!) because we write about the things we’re trying to make sense of or are hopeless at. So much of my writing became trying to make sense of COVID that I lost the sense of everything else. Thinking I could put things on hold and return where I had left them when things were more stable, more grounded, but time keeps marching on whether you try to hit pause or not. And realizing that while control is illusory (I mean is there even free will), there is a difference between trying to control your life and passively living your life—and while sometimes it seems like the work is long and the narrative will remain incomplete, there is some solstice to be had in knowing that we (I) may not know the whole story in our (my) lifetime.

Handstands also seem to help

And if anyone in Anchorage has next Friday off and wants to ski lettttttttme know.

Oh and still working on the MDH150, but gossiping more with my therapist than crying so it’ll probably be done soon.

* I mean aren’t we all just little souls carrying around corpses (Marcus Aurelius)