Taking a moment to update my about me profile. I have been a technical editor for over 10 years working in aerospace along with editing academic works for publication. I am a mother of three school aged children and have lived in Brookings, South Dakota since 2012. We have grown to love our vibrant, little community and plan to work tirelessly to enjoy what South Dakota offers and to give back within the community. When the snow flies, we ski; when it is warm, we bike and skate; when it is breezy, we fly kites; and I am learning where the hiking and fishing sweet spots are around the area. My blog chronicles my travels and hiking adventures. When I get a moment, I try my hand at poetry. Please assume all poems to be in draft and subject to editing and feedback. I do work these pieces for submission to print media. Disclaimer- all writings posted here are the original works of the author and are subject to copyright. Contact me through the blog comments for permission before any reuse or distribution of the writings contained herein. Thank you, I appreciate all those who take a moment to enjoy this blog.
Three years ago I concocted a wild dream as I couldn’t drift off to sleep one night to take my husband and hike the Lost Coast of California. I became so excited I grew increasingly agitated rather than drifting off to sleep and got up immediately to start looking at maps and planning. We were on the trail three months later. This morning as I lay slowly waking, listening to the sounds of my children getting up and the dogs stretching and flapping their ears good morning, I had this clear vision of our Honeymoon where we sat each morning at the hotel restaurant looking out at a panorama of the Pacific while having eggs benedict. And then as I sipped hot, dark coffee warming by the fireplace I sensed the little Nor. Cal. town Chris and I drop in on at 10pm after leaving the Lost Coast being ever grateful to find the one restaurant still serving hot food and beer that was covered in cool postered artwork, and the aching climb up and down from the tables upstairs to the order counter downstairs. Our shit-eating grins and excited excusing of our dirty stinky bodies and ravenous hunger only passingly, noddingly acknowledged by the staff. The only hotel room we could find was at a silly little outdated cabin-esque style place, not exactly my vision of trail-life sandwiched together by posh hotel-life. But the thrill of the shower and cleanness and comfort of a soft bed were intoxicating. Chris snapped a photo of me at the delicious little café with the yummiest coffee and omelette ever the following morning. This is the linger effect of hitting the trail. While out I have all sorts of good vibes that carry me along but I also get an equal rush coming off the trail and appreciating the grandeur of our luxurious everydayness.
Back to today. I have been feeling wishy-washy now that the tingle of Christmas is past and the new year is here. I don’t like resolutions to change myself and I think one year flows into another seamlessly, but still my heart has been distracted. My bones have grown sedentary from the rich food, booze and warm fires. My dander got up yesterday when reading about the hunger crisis that is falling rapidly on Ethiopia at the same time as I was planning a decadent crab cake dinner for us. As I did the dishes and poured remnants of each meal off plates and dumped souring milk and eggnog down the drain, I found a forgotten half of a turnip in the crisper drawer and my soul welled-up at how that one bit of forgotteness would be greeted if handed to one of the mother’s waiting in the 200long line for a sack of rice to ration out through the next month for their family.
My grandparents always said if you leave this house hungry it is your own fault. They were depression era children who understood huger and took sacred the hospitality of the home, which was in large part demonstrated through food. I have a belief that people should not be hungry, I can’t even contemplate people who are starving. I want to reach out and feed them all, to welcome them and hand them a bowl filled with warm love. I understand the cruelty of population, resource depletion and the reality that the human population will ultimately reach plague status on the surface of the earth. That in some way we will have to undergo extinction or at least mass population decreases that will not flow gently out of the natural life cycle of humanity but instead will come from war and hunger brought on by scarcity of resources. It is sensible in a strange calculation to allow some to die today rather than artificially maintain them through aid since their self-preservation instincts will prompt them to immediately bear children, many children, in the hopes that at least some portion of their genetic material might survive. Leaving increasingly larger populations to be aided or to collapse in an ever worse humanitarian crisis in the future. But humanitarian crisis is rooted in the humane in the human condition, and I can’t help but think that if it were me and my children, that I would ask those who had more than my nothing if they couldn’t share, just a bit, to keep my alive.
Still I digress. Outside of the hunger crisis troubling my little privileged world, I had a marvellous mom day yesterday. I explained the crisis to the kids, showed them maps, asked their opinion on the matter and then took them sledding. Followed with hot cocoa, canvas painting of snowmen and hours of reading Percy Jackson. They are beautiful souls and I don’t always know the best way to be true to them, true to myself and true to the world. I mean seriously, millions will starve this year- here kids, have a cup of cocoa- extra marshmallows? These questions stitched together with acknowledging the sheer excesses I encouraged through the holidays leaves me restless. The kind of restless that wants to drop it all and find my solitude. To know how insignificant I am outside of my own head; how good and grand the bigger creation is. To reconnect with that girl who wanders in silence to remember we are all travellers plopped down by circumstance and chance, with nothing but two feet a heart and a mind to make our way in this world.
So I somehow manage to smell the ocean salty air on the South Dakota winter howling winds, I can feel the sunshine peek-abooing through the dappled shadows and splotches of dancing tree shadows and begin dream-planning my next adventure.
I currently live in South Dakota where I am trying to balance a family of five, two large lab/shepherd mixes, an editing career and an active lifestyle which includes as much travel as possible and as much physical fitness as I can squeeze in. My husband and spent countless weekends pre-kiddos hiking and exploring the parks of Northern California (under grad) and Central Kentucky (grad school). Now that the kids are old enough to be mobile, I am determined to get as much hiking done as possible both in short trips with the whole fam and longer outing solo with the babysitting mightiest of the grandparents at work. My hope is to record many fine adventures out on the trail hiking.
Big Flatts, Lost Coast, CA
Running became my favorite activity after becoming a mom. It satisfies many of my needs simultaneously, I get a fit, I get out of the house and into the fresh sunshiny air, and I get an hour inside my own head without any external demands. I only came to running/walking/hiking as an adult and struggled at first with getting miles under my belt. They do add up if you take the time to put one foot forward at a time. Much of it is a mental game. The body is physically built to move and with a gradual building of time and distance, can accomplish any distance you challenge it to. My mental game is simple, I set a mileage goal and then tell myself that I won’t stop until I get to the end. I might slow way down, but I don’t stop. And it works. I remind myself that my body was designed to move, and once I can walk a distance it is only kicking it into the next gear to jog and then run.
Running the Dakota Nature Park, Brookings, SD
Going into our first long hike in years, my husband prepared by working like a madman to ensure he could take the time off, and I completed my first full marathon. You can imagine the fitness disparity. Not having been an integral part of trip planning before, I approached the trails lengths in relationship to the miles I knew I was capable of from running. If I could run 12 miles in a few hours in the morning to start the day then I reasoned we could do that in the course of an entire day weighted down by packs. Also, it felt like a real challenge and we could see so much more from say 30 miles rather than 20. Things I underestimated: terrain, switchbacks and mountains don’t eat the miles up like a city paved park; my husbands need to pack for every known contingency, leading to him carrying way more weight than he should have; blisters on his feet; the need to stop and soak it all in. We made 10-12 miles a day, but it took from early morning to dark each day, and the pace was not enjoyable for half of our team. This thought led to the my title. I am both driven by the mile monster in me who thrives on the challenge of seeing how many miles I can eat up, and understand the need to tame the monster, relax and enjoy the journey. Here’s to balance.
tamingthemilemonster 