Running and, um, sex

Okay, so there I was, running a 14-mile marathon training run with MM last weekend, and the farther we ran, the happier I became. I was almost giddy by the end. I felt on top of the world. I couldn't stop gushing how absolutely. Totally. Great. I felt.

Later that night I wondered to MM if there was something unique that triggers in woman when they run or exercise hard. "A lot of women are obsessed with running," I said. "Men seem more obsessed with the competition, not the actual running."

Imagine my delight (my delight!) when I opened up Salon the very next morning and there was an article on the very subject (you can check it out here).

According to the article (and I don't know about you, but I trust the writers at Salon), when women run, do yoga and other exercises, it can trigger (oh, I'm blushing!), a sexual response.

Yes, women can have orgasms from exercising.

And check out the stats from the article, which is titled: Working the Coregasm: New Science sheds light on the unexpected pleasure that some women feel during exercise

If you really want to know what exercises are more likely to bring you there, here’s a breakdown of the findings: 51.4 percent of the women reported experiencing an orgasm while doing abdominal exercises within the last 90 days, 26.5 percent while weight lifting, 20 percent during yoga, 15.8 percent bicycling, 13.2 percent running, and 9.6 percent walking or hiking.

Yippeee! I'm totally working my abs tomorrow morning.

That's not me but that's how I hope I will look in a few months of long, slow ab workouts, eh?

Running: 8 miles, trails

Reading: White Oleander,  Janet Fitch

Writing: Almost finished with Chapter Ten (!!)

Home

Well, I'm back.

I was gone for a wee bit. And since then, I've made massive changes in my life.

I've moved back to Anchorage.

And I am SO happy.

I lived in Seward for one and a half years. I loved being so close to the mountains, loved walking the beach in the summer twilight, loved running the trails.

But I didn't care much for the near constant rain (Seward averages 72 inches of rain a year, more than Juneau) nor the fact that the sun rarely appeared.

After my newspaper folded in September, I decided to stay in Seward and finish my second book.

And I was doing well, really. I was running and writing.

Then winter came, and the near-constant darkness.

I hurt my ankle and couldn't run for over two months.I slowly stopped working out. I found myself sititng on my butt and eating whole bags of pretzels while watching "Mad Men" DVDs.

I gained weight. I stopped writing. I stopped blogging.

The temps quickly dropped. The diesel stove broke, again, and the only two repairmen in town refused to work on it, deeming it unsafe.

I sat huddled around small electric space heaters. I had to wear mittens indoors. My cats were miserable. The dog shivered at night.

I know that most people talk happy-talk in their running blogs but I have to admit that I was really depressed. It got so bad that I'd take allergy medicine early in the evening so that I'd fall asleep sooner and the day would be done with. I went for almost two weeks without washing my hair. There were few job openings, and none for a writer with a Master's degree. I felt stuck; I didn't know how to get out.

Then I drove up to Anchorage for a weekend, came back to find the pipes frozen and my houseplants dead.

"This is no way to live," MM said.

I realized that he was right. I had been trying so hard to convince myself that I was happy living in a place where I wasn't happy that I had blinded myself to my own possibilities.

Eventually I packed up my stuff and moved back home (home!) to Anchorage.

It wasn't easy, of course. Change never is. There were tons of doubts, insecurities, sleepless nights, worries and stresses, and a lot of tears.

But I'm back. I'm losing my winter weight. I'm running. I'm writing. And it feels SO good to feel like myself again.

And oh, since this is a running blog, here are pics from yesterday's run on the Potter Trail along Turnagain Arm.

Me and The Beebs at the two-mile mark viewpoint overlooking Turnagain Arm.

Someone decorates this spruce tree each year after Christmas. It always cheers me when I run past.

Sunset! I so missed seeing the sunset down in Seward, where the mountains obscured the views.

Winter cabin camping

I am not a cold weather person. I suppose that's odd, seeing that I live in Alaska, but I do the best I can.

So when MM reserved the Dale Clemens cabin for Nov. 12, I wasn't worried. It was September at the time, and warm, and the Lost Lake Trail leading up to the cabin was in perfect running condition.

Fast forward a couple of months and I suddenly found myself dressed in winter running gear, a pack on my back, Yaktraxs strapped over my hiking boots and heading up a snowy trail for a night of winter cabin camping.

My goal: To make it up to the cabin (uphill the WHOLE way) without picking a fight with MM.

I thought it was a rather lofty goal, and I almost made it, too.

But the last hundred yards or so, when the trail became slick and MM placed his hand on my butt and literally pushed me up the last hill, well, the humiliation was too much--and I snarled.

Oops!

The Dale Clemens cabin was recently remodeled and the interior sports new wood. It even smells new. We did our best to mess is up, scattering our gear all over and tracking snow over the clean floor.

Poor MM struggled with the obstinate stove while I ate pretzels and watched. This is why I like camping with MM: He does all the work and I daydream and read books, hee, hee.

The views from the cabin at sunset were awesome, and I mean totally and truly awesome.

We took a walk in the moonlight and the snow was silver, the mountains rising up so white and solemn that it was like looking at the face of God. It was silent and still, except for the wind; no one else existed but us.

The night was SO beautiful and magical except when I had to use the outhouse, which was ridiculously far (or so it seemed during that cold, cold time) from the cabin, so I drank as little fluids as possible and refused to brush me teeth (sorry, MM).

The next morning, more beauty:

Me and The Beebs ready to trek back to the trailhead (downhill the whole way--delicious!).

Notice how much heavier MM's pack is? I made him carry my laptop, hee, hee.

And the last view from the cabin door: Friggin' amazing.

Running: Seven miles in 25 mph winds yesterday--not a pretty picture

Writing: My book! Is moving over to copy editing down in New York. That's pre-publication stage--scary!

Running with bears

Last week I ran Exit Glacier Road, which is closed off from traffic for the winter.

About two miles up the road we came across these:

Bear prints. They followed the road for miles, and it was SO cool to run along the same path as a bear.

The tracks were fairly fresh, and when I turned around at the five mile mark, there were new tracks on the way back, too.

I loved that while I was running in one direction following one bear's prints, another, smaller bear was walking in the other direction following MY prints. It felt magaical, as if I were connecting with some wild and primal part of myself and the world.

The next day we got hit with a heavy snowfall, and I'm pretty sure that all the bears are tucked away in their cozy dens for the next few months.

Running: 1048 so far this year
Reading: "Anywhere But Here," by Mona Simpson. I've read this book at least five times and still love it.

Four more miles

I'm presently four miles away from logging 1,000 miles, thanks to Tall Mom's 1,000 Mile Club, which has been a HUGE inspiration. Knowing that I'll later record my mileage has gotten my butt out the door on more than one rainy day.

Thanks, Tall Mom! Someday when I'm in Seattle I'll drive down and try to keep up with you on a run.

Other good news: An electric blanket.

For those of you who don't live in a northern climate in a house lined with huge windows offering both awesome views and a lot of wind seepage, you probably can't appreciate the thrill of finally lounging on the sofa in toasty glory: Ahhhh!

I've been reluctant to carry my camera on runs. After working 13 years as a journalist and having to think visually about each story plus often shoot my own photos, I'm rebelling by not taking photos, which makes for a very boring blog. So here are some of Mount Marathon Bowl Trail before it snowed. See all the rocks over the trail? This is why I'm always falling. This is why my knees are forever scraped.

I met up with these three crazy Coast Guard dudes on the way down. They were running and singing Coastie songs. It was a riot. Nice kids--did I ever have that much energy? Anyway, they were in on the Healy Cutter. Hope they're having fun zooming around the Arctic seas.

I was up in Anchorage last week interviewing for a criminal justice technician position. It paid well, sounded interesting and I liked the people I met.

Then I learned that one of the job duties was monitoring offenders' urine tests. I thought: Yeah, I can do that. I can stand outside the bathroom door and make sure no one goes in.

Then I learned that I'd have to actually be in the bathroom while the offenders peed and I thought, well, that might be a tad uncomfortable but I can do it.

Then I found out that I would actually have to witness the urine releasing from the offender's body and spraying into the sample cup and I thought: Is this really why I went to graduate school?

Oh well ....

But I did have some awesome runs while I was in the Big City. It was SO nice running on my favorite trails and seeing my old friends. Hopefully I'll be back living there soon.

Also went down to Homer with MM for the weekend. MM took the pics (sorry to steal them sweetie, hee, hee).

The cabin is out of town and very cozy. We had an awesome time.

Except (there's always an except, isn't there?) there's no running water. That's no big deal in the summer. But when it's below freezing and the middle of the night, it's not fun stumbling out to the outhouse and situating one's butt on a cold (COLD!) wooden outhouse toilet hole.

I suggested to MM that a cushioned toilet seat would be great to carry back and forth from the cabin to the outhouse. I suggested that perhaps he buy me one.

I don't think this is going to happen.

We also took a long walk on the beach with the Beebs. Here's a pic at sunset, taken during a trip earlier this summer.

We ate at Two Sisters Bakery, which has awesome food and even more awesome vegan muffins. I would run all the way to Homer (167 miles) for another one of those muffins.

Running:
Monday: 11 miles
Wednesday: 9.1 miles
Thursday: 4 miles

Reading: "The Age of Grief" by Jane Smiley. I recently finished "The Mystery of Breathing" by Parri Klass. Read it if you have a chance--the writing is beautiful and slyly funny in places.

Lost my lunch on Lost Lake Trail

Here's a tip: Don't run up mountains when you're sick with a fever.

Not that I would ever heed such advice.

Yesterday was slated as the last possible sunny day before snow and even though I was sick, I couldn't stand the idea of not being out on the trails.

 I tied on my muddy shoes, called for the dog and headed for Lost Lake.

Of course I didn't run up the more gently-sloped summer trail. No, I struggled up the winter trail, which is half the distance but twice the steepness.

In my feverish mind, this made perfect sense. Why wouldn't someone who was sick and had no business being on the trails in the first place choose the most difficult route?

My chest ached. My head swirled in the most delicious of ways.

At about the half mile mark, I met Cedar coming down.

Cedar at the start of the 2010 Mt. Marathon Race. She's on the far right with the print tank. Photo credit: Roy Corral.

Cedar Bourgeois is kind of a mountain running legend down here in Seward. She's won the Mt. Marathon Race seven times. 

She breezed down in a pair of shorts and longsleeve tech top and I struggled up in a pair of capris and a windbreaker tied around my waist and I kind of felt like the girl in elementary school that never gets picked for dodgeball.
 
We stopped and chatted for a minute. I stupidly suggested that we run together sometime. Imagine me trying to keep up, eh?

Like I said, I was feverish.

A few minutes later I felt it in my throat. The Progresso no MSG, low salt veggie soup I had eaten for lunch was determined to come back up, and there was nothing I could do to stop it.

I lost my lunch on the Lost Lake Trail. In my dazed state, seemed right and true, almost poetic.

The moral of this story is that when I reached the cabin, where the relentless uphill finally tapers off, I glanced at my watch and discovered that I had shaved five minutes off last week's time.

Huh?

It seems the secret of a faster time isn't rest or carbs, it's being struck silly by fever.

By the time I drove home I could barely make it up the steps.

I settled on the couch with "The Good Wive" TV series DVD. The show is fairly good (love Chris Noth) but the women wear way too much makeup and their hair is way too styled. I wanna see them messed and frazzled. I want them to kick off their ridiculous shoes and sweat through a trail race.

Running: 7.1 miles
Reading: "The Mystery of Breathing" by Perri Klass

Snow!

I can't believe that summer is over--where did it go?

But it is over, and I know this because today I ran through snow up in the higher elevations, after struggling up massive and muddy hills and almost colliding with an angry moose.

And suddenly there it was:

The dog was excited. She's a cold-weather type (granddaughter of an Iditarod racer) and took off. She came back with a piece of a dead and bloody animal, and I thought: "Oh shit, bears."

But nothing growled and charged so we continued running.

I passed three hikers sitting down on the trail. They were dressed in full winter gear, including mittens, and gaped at me as if I were naked as I ran by in my capris and tech shirt.

I love being up in the mountains, love the silence and the wind in my face and the smells and the freedom. Often I pass no one the whole 7-10 miles and it's as if I am alone in the world. Running in the mountains helps me shrug off my ego and dive down closer to the spirit.

What a luxury. What a gift.

Unfortunately, the run had to end and I drove home, ate dinner and started obsessing: Do I stay here in Seward, even though there are no jobs for someone with a master's in writing? Do I move back to Anchorage, where there are jobs and opportunities and creative energies and hundreds of miles of trails right outside the city but also, alas, noise and traffice and crime?

Who knows?

I ate a Larabar instead. Then I ate another.

Thank god for high-calorie sweet foods that are supposedly healthy so that you can eat a lot without feeling guilty.

P.S. I can't post on anyone's blog, think it's my shoddy Internet connection or maybe my settings are messed up. My apologies.

Runs: Monday: 9.4 miles, race pace
Tuesday: 7.1 miles, rough and glorious mountain trail

Reading: "The Pianist" by Wladyslaw Szpilman. So, so good but a tough and heart-wrenching read.