Archive for: Outdoor Musings

Being Athletic and Feminine

A tweet went the rounds this week quoting an accomplished female athlete. She was asked in an interview if there was anything she didn’t play as a child and her derisive response, “Dolls.” As my finger hovered over the retweet button, I thought, But what’s wrong with playing with dolls?

Lately in society we are presented with two type of women: the princess type with a hair never out of place who wears heels everywhere and the nerd or athlete who eschews all things feminine. Read More→

An Open Letter to the Skier Who Hit Me

Dear Man in a Blue Coat:

It was was a beautiful day wasn’t it. The snow, soft under my feet, sparkled in the sun. It was the first day in a month I hadn’t needed my flat light goggles. I was exploring a part of the mountain I hadn’t been to before and was thrilled to find challenging runs that weren’t too crowded.

I never saw you before you hit me. But you had to see me, I was off center moving toward the trees to make my next turn. I wasn’t just past a drop or coming out from behind something. I tried to stay to one side but it was a skinny run and I moved at a good clip, although, not as fast you would like I guess.

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Becoming Athletic

When people find out I ski, do triathlons, and a host of other outdoor stuff, they say, “Wow, you’re so athletic. I wish I could do that.” Here’s my deep down dark secret, I’m not athletic at all. When I hit my first steep turn mountain biking, I panicked, slammed on my brakes and tipped over. It took two months for me to get up on water skis. My triathlon swims usually end with me belching my way through the bike ride because of all the water I swallowed. The first season I skied, I was the only one in class who could tip over standing still. Here’s a little something I learned about becoming athletic. Read More→

My Outdoor Grandma

On August 14, 2013, my grandmother Arlene Dymock passed away unexpectedly. As I sat at her bedside, I searched my mind to recall all of the good moments before they faded. I realized that most of my outdoor childhood memories contained her. Whether hiking the trail to Angel’s Landing or four-wheeling in Moab, she was there.

This was taken when she was around 78 or 79. Two weeks before she passed at 83, she told my aunt she wanted to ride again.

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