Gonna go running tomorrow!!!! Gotta hype myself up because i know once my alarm goes off at 6am i will not be as excited anymore ((((: BUT I'LL GO RUNNING!!!!

Diet and Exercise

I noticed that my cat was starting to get fat. Not sure why because he’s been getting the same amount of food as always so the only explanation is that he must have been sneaking the left-over pizza I’ve been leaving out on the stove every night. In that moment I realized that I’ve been eating pizza every night and beelined to the hallway mirror to check if I was getting fat too.

I was.

“From now on it’s vegetable smoothies and walks around Central Park until we both look like Brad Pitt,” I said to Garbage. “Well, vegetable smoothies for me and canned tuna for you,” I corrected myself realizing that cats don’t eat vegetables. Or maybe they do. I don’t know. I know that mine certainly doesn’t. In any case, one two click and we’ve got a case of wild albacore and a Ninja blender on the way from Amazon. Great. Next, I figured we’d get a head start on the exercise so I strapped Garbage into his harness and off we went to the park. (The thing barely fit.)

We hiked around the little trails above Loeb Boathouse, I took it slow because I could see that Garbage was having a hard time. His body was visibly weighing down on his tiny knees. He looked like a barrel on four shaky sticks. But I didn’t say anything. I didn’t want to embarrass him. Instead, I pretended like I was the one struggling, giving off sighs here and there, asking him to slow down. I tried to keep his mind off the physical exertion with stories about mice and fish when, out of nowhere, a large mama-goose cut us off leading a string of babies across the path. We stopped. Garbage looked up at me. I shrugged my shoulders, “we gotta wait,” I said. And as soon as I did, the goose hissed violently like a manic cobra. I got a little scared, I’ll admit. “Step back,” I calmly whispered to Garbage. He moved behind my leg. Seeing him move, the goose started flapping her wings and hissing even more aggressively.

Now — just to clarify — when I said that I got a little scared, it wasn’t so much that I was afraid of the goose itself. I mean, you have to keep a leveled head in situations like that, have to think logically. And logically speaking, I’m over six feet tall. The goose is what? A foot maybe? I weigh… a lot, hence the whole diet and exercise thing. The goose weighs how much? Maybe 10, max 15 pounds? I say this to say that I’m pretty sure I could take a goose down if push came to shove. Let’s say she flew up at face-level and tried to peck my eyes out. I’d treat her with a double jab, cross, hook. And if she came after my legs, I’d simply swat her with a low kick. Done deal. It’s not complicated. But it is beside the point because I would never actually do anything like that. Not in my right mind at least. And that is where things start to crumble. Because how can I know if I’m in my right mind at any given moment? Everything I do or think makes sense to me because I’m the one doing or thinking it. So if the thought of boxing it out with a goose pops into my head, that means that somewhere in there this is a possibility waiting to materialize. And that is what I was scared of when I said I got a little scared. Because the only thing worse than beating up a goose is being SEEN beating up a goose. I mean, Imagine that? You’re walking around Central Park, minding your business, relaxing, when suddenly you see some cretin with a morbidly obese cat on a leash punching a goose. Front page New York Times next morning guaranteed.

Long story short, we turned around and walked in the other direction. Did another 30 minutes around the lake and went home. Exhausted.

Once we got the blender and the tuna we played no games, went hard with the diet without looking back at our old fat life. Within the first two months Garbage started looking like a Persian show cat and I was down to 180.

Smart Yamada

Okay so I’ve seen a lot of responses to stories or art with Present Mic doing dumbish stuff with ‘but Mic has 5/5 intelligence’. I will not argue with this. What I will argue with is the idea that just because you’re smart you wont do stupid things.

I’m decently smart. I’m not a genius or anything but my family/friends tend to believe I’m pretty smart and my grades support this. My decision making skills and instincts do not support this. The following is a list of dumb, dumb, actions I’ve taken:

·       I thought I ended up with pink eye because late at night my eye began to get swollen and red and had discharge. It began to clear up within a few hours though, so… either I had a superhuman immune system (I do not) or it was not pinkeye. I could not figure it out, until I remembered what happened that morning. My grandma made me and my cousin put OFF on to go outside to play. While doing this I sprayed OFF directly into my eye and decided to try walking it off. You know how you should always handle spaying dangerous chemicals directly in your eye.

·      I sprained my wrist because I used way to much force when shutting a car door.

·       I shut my own head in a car door. Like shutting the door on your hand but it was just… my entire face.

·       I’ve both played and worked with a migraine so bad I had to vomit. As in I played/worked with my migraine right up until I had to go run to the bathroom to vomit. If my mom or friends didn’t stop me, I would return to working or playing because I have no sense of self preservation.

·       I set my desk on fire (for ScIeNcE!!!). So… I knew nail polish remover was flammable but I didn’t know how flammable. And I watched T.V. I watched documentaries. I know when you want to know something you do an experiment. So I cut the top off a plastic water bottle, poured about ½ cup of nail polish remover in and dropped in a lit match. My friend started yelling for my parents, meanwhile I’m dead behind the eyes as I walk to the bathroom, get a cup of water and return to dump it on the fire.

·       I was painting and on impulse wasted a ton of black acrylic paint by coating my entire hand in paint. I have done this multiple times and will likely do so again.

·       I’ve always been short. So I decided I did not have time to go get a step stool every time I needed a cup. Seven year old me came up with a solution, countertop parkour.

·       There was the whole… ‘Bird Incident’

·       I was the king of hide and seek. Mostly because I chose hiding spots a person should not be able to fit into. Such as the washing machine. Or under a horse trailer so low to the ground my back brushed the floor when I breathed in.

·       Doing things that trigger: allergies, asthma, headaches, carsickness, nausea, etc because yeah it made me sick but it was fun so worth it.

·       I met this dude and had a slight dislike of him. So I returned every comment he made with snark and sarcasm. After a few minutes I was “alright cool, we’re rivals that’s fun”. Turns out he had a crush on me. I was disappointed we weren’t actually rivals.

·       I will get so focused on my work I will forget to breath. As in the only way I remember to breath is when my lungs hurt bad because ‘oh yeah I haven’t breathed in like… a minute’.

·       I spaced out and just stood in the middle of a parking lot staring at something on the ground.

·       I have recently developed health issues that can involve bouts of muscle weakness. I also love backpacking. I decided to go on a backpacking trip despite my health issues. (Because what my body needs it strap 15 lbs of gear on my back and walk for hours). Yeah, I fell multiple times, scraped my legs to shreds, and my legs shook like half set Jello in an earthquake.

·       I would get bored in class and would bend my fingers back far enough that it hurt.

·       We had a golf cart. Because once again I’ve seen T.V. I had a brilliant idea. My cousin should drive the cart as fast as it will go and I should run behind and then jump on it as it moves. This was fun.

·       Despite being terrified of spiders I try to relocate them outside because if I kill one the guilt will haunt me for weeks.

·       I’ve always liked snakes. Young me desperately wanted a pet snake. Current me also wants a pet snake but that’s irrelevant. My cousins and I were playing in the yard and found!! a!! snake!! So we caught it. Then however we were like… is this a worm or a snake? Cause if this is a worm it’s really big. If it’s a snake it’s really weird. So we asked my grandfather who agreed Yes. This is a snake. So we decided that we now had a pet snake. Our snake needed a name. This was not a snake. This is how we ended up with a worm named Fang.

·       While backpacking (around 11 years oldish) we were headed back to the car. I was ready to get to the car so I hyper focused on the trail. Which means that I hiked full speed, carrying a heavy backpack, without breaks, and ended up way ahead of the adults (who were keeping a reasonable pace), and hiked until I almost passed out from exhaustion, heat, and dehydration.

·       While in Walmart saw some pixie stix. Yelled “PIXIE STIX” as loudly as humanly possible.

·       Got coffee on a road trip. Coffee was disgusting, stale, AND cold. Drank it anyway.

·       Invinted and played ‘the blindfold game’ with my cousin. In the blindfold game you blindfold yourself (obviously) and then try to do daily tasks without making a huge mess. (Yes blind people do this every day. My cousin and I are not blind. We had no practice in this what so ever.)  I think on of the most complicated things we did was make a sandwich.

·       Fixed a minor problem with my ceiling light. Did not flip the breaker to make sure I couldn’t get shocked.

·       We had an above ground swimming pool. It had about 5-6 inches of water in it in the winter. The ice froze and I was like ‘Neat! I can go ice skating!’. I do not have ice skates. I broke through the ice multiple times. I only went inside to warm up when my legs were completely numb. 10/10 would repeat.

·       Ran on slick concrete, in the rain. Fell and opened a five inch long cut on my arm. I was at work so I duct taped some paper towels to my arm and got back to work.

·       Ended up with a bone bruise (also called microfracture) on one of the bones in my foot. Was supposed to stay off it a whole week. Wanted to go do something fun but Mom  was like ‘with your foot injured you’re in no condition to do so’. Forced myself to walk without crutches, a limp, or wincing to ‘prove’ I was well enough to go do the fun thing. Mom relented. I was not well enough.

·       I have to move sharp things away because my instincts will scream ‘stab it through your hand’ and I’m like ‘that’s not a good idea’ and my instincts are like ‘do it, coward’.

·       Windows? You mean extra doors.

·       And finally my favorite story. Real life fruit ninja. This was around the time the fruit ninja app was super popular. I was cleaning up the scraps from a pineapple and had a long knife in one hand. I also had an idea. It it safe to wave around long sharp knives in front of you while your friend hurls potatoes (cheaper and less wasteful than actual fruit) at your face safe? No. Is putting three knives between your fingers so you have wolverine claws safe? No. Is it fun? Yes. Have I learned that this is too dangerous? Nope, this game is fun and I will play again in the future.

·       Got my first pocket knife. Immediately closed it on my finger. Never mentioned it to my parent because my dad had told me to be careful of that about five minutes earlier.

Just because you are smart doesn’t mean you make good choices, it just means you’re better at fixing the fallout from your bad choices. Is my point you shouldn’t write smart Yamada Hizashi? Is my point you should write only smart Yamada Hizashi? No. My point is you can have the best of both worlds. Complete Idiotic Genius Yamada Hizashi. Present Mic that put together clues and come up with an answer Sherlock Holmes style, but who also got bored, set a bunch of ‘Home Alone’ traps all over the house, forgot and got punted down the stairs by his own trap.

The hike from France to Switzerland

Last night Lacy and I had a nice dinner at a little place called Bizes in Chamonix. They specialized in use of a Josper oven which is like an enclosed charcoal grill. I had a delicious veal entree and we had some pretty unique little starters. We got exhausted pretty quickly probably from a combination of jet lag and from the earlier hike.

This morning, we got up around 6:15am and got all of our gear pretty much together. We ate sorta staggered this morning since we were reorganizing our packs and I was trying to figure out how to carry my tripod. Eventually, I’m trying to figure out how to bring along my iPhone gimbal for video, but weight is definitely and issue when you are carrying 3-4 liters of water, your lunch, your cold and wet gear, etc. I mean, it wouldn’t be so bad if I were a trained athlete, but let’s be honest here, there are some 60 year olds crushing me up the mountain.

We walked out of Auberge du Manoir this morning after packing our lunches in front of the first clear view we’ve had of the mountains above. Mont Blanc came into full view and it was pretty clear that we’d have a very nice day of weather ahead of us. We walked to the train station and took about a 20 minute ride up the valley to the town of Tour where we started hiking towards Col de Balme. We walked by apparently the oldest little hamlet in Chamonix, of which, one of the homes is occupied by our guide, Beatrice. The traditional homes are built of a type of pine that loses its needles and they have that quintessential Chamonix French countryside look to them. We then started our brutal ascent and I think in total we went up about 3,300 feet to Col de Balme. It was the first taste of how difficult this little adventure would be. We ate lunch overlooking a ridiculously spectacular view of the valley and the Mont Blanc massif. Every view of the mountains and the valley below just got better and better until we got to the French/Swiss border. We got a nice jump shot of Lacy and strattled the border and then headed down the long descent towards Col de la Forclaz along the Trient glacier. All of the glaciers have receeded over the years and that change is clearly visibile in depth and length of their reach.

After a difficult 10-11 miles of walking, we hopped in a bus to Nendaz where we are staying at Hotel Nendaz 4 Vallees. This is a very luxurious place with a crazy little spa that we briefly indulged in and then had a very nice dinner accompanied by Swiss wine. I had a really interesting white grape varietal called Chasselas which I’ve never tried which had the dry sweetness of Grenache blanc and the crispness and acidity of Sauvignon blanc. I had a Swiss red Gamay with dinner and now I’m ready to get to bed since it’s after 10pm and we’ve got a trek to Grand Desert tomorrow. Supposed to have the appearance of being on Mars. More to follow. Bonne nuit.

Vita Benedetta

Hey everyone! My name is Kassidy Steyer (everyone knows me by Kas) and I have a passion for capturing the perfect picture of epic eats. You can catch me running between spin class, grabbing a matcha latte, shopping at Whole Foods, or strolling through the farmers market with my mom.

I am studying marketing and communications at the University of Wisconsin-La Crosse. I will be graduating with my bachelor’s degree in May 2019. College has taught me the importance of balance, positive thoughts, self-care, exercise, and fueling my body. My goal is to be transparent by showing both sides of wellness. While I love me some avocado toast and going for a hike, letting loose on thirsty Thursday and devouring burgers and fries (every once in a while) with friends is part of that balance. 

I want to show you all the grub goodness that can be found in unfamiliar places from Madison, WI and beyond. Thank you so much for visiting Vita Benedetta. I look forward to sharing with you! 

You are probably wondering, “What does Vita Benedetta mean?” From Italian, translated to English, Vita Benedetta stands for blessed life. I come from an awesomely large Italian family—my mom has seven brothers and they all grew up in a two-bedroom house downtown Madison, WI. Growing up with 8 dads has been pretty rad to say the least, and for that I am blessed. As you will see, and I will reiterate, this theme is present throughout all aspects of my life. 

Inspiration 

My inspiration for this blog primarily came from my experiences in college. College, the best four years of your life: supposedly. For me college has been a challenge. A challenge to find balance. Balance between social norm expectations and what I wanted for myself. Balance between mindless fun and exhaustion. Balance between fitting in and standing out. Finding myself was a challenge. 

La Crosse—a city with more taverns per capita than any other U.S city of its size. A city where if a friend states he/she is going to the library, you can assume that person is referring to the bar. Many weekends went like this. I would watch the lights flicker off as a sign of bar close, take the “drunk bus” home at 2:30 a.m., and crawl into bed after eating a triple order of Topperstix. Mornings I would wake to the scent of a Howie’s deep fried burger and fries creeping through my window, faced with a full night of hung-over studying, notorious as the Sunday Scaries. Purely exhausted. 

Undeniably my self-esteem began to dwindle. College presented me with millions of others girls: prettier than me, taller than me, with a whiter smile than me, and much less flab where a girl doesn’t want flab. These girls portrayed their lives as if they were out of a Legally Blonde movie, attending frat parties on the weekends, and posing in pictures eating Big Macs, yet still somehow maintaining flawless figures. 

Deciding to focus on my education and health, I stood out. Contrary to what many people believe this came with consequences. In our binge drinking obsessed culture, deciding not to engage alienated me. I lost the majority of my friends, only later to notice that these relationships were solely characterized by weekends and drinking, and had no substance or depth. The hard part: finding new friends as a junior in college. Friend groups were already tightly formed. Without parties or bars to make friends, this left class, the library, and the gym, all places where college students want to get in and get out as fast as they can.   

Thanks to social media, I found a community where I belonged, where I could engage and contribute. Wonderful humans such as @shutthekaleup and @thetruespoon have shown me what it feels like to: get a good night sleep, eat whole real food (none of that toxic processed ish), and spend time with people who support me. These women portray real lives of self-care, exercise, health, balance, and emphasize fueling your body. I follow their lives for inspiration on: recipes, skin care, athleisure companies, and mainly inspiration to lead my own life—disinterested in comparing myself to others. I finally found the importance behind talking about wellness, and I gained hella confidence along the way. 

Present Over Perfect 

As I began my wellness journey I stumbled across the issue of perfectionism. Did I use the correct Valencia filter for that picture? Did the editor app take away the coffee stains on my teeth? Should I spend a couple more days trying to come up with a more creative Instagram caption? To be completely honest, sometimes I would take so long to capture the most epically epic picture of my food that my meal would be cold to a crisp by the time I ate it (whoops). Yeah I know what you are thinking, this girl is crazy! It was hard to put down my phone. 

It is OKAY not take yourself so seriously. Live in the moment. Put down your phone and go for a hike. Have a meaningful conversation with someone you love. Your phone will still be there. Three things have significantly helped me become more present and aware in my life. 

Morning and Bedtime Social Media Detox 

How many of you are guilty of the a.m. mindless social media scroll? What about scrolling until your eyes can barely take it anymore before hitting the hay? This was my worst habit. When the first and last things you are seeing everyday are other people and perfection, it is hard not to compare and get caught up in everything other than yourself. Instead, try getting up and doing something else for the first part of your day. Go for a walk, read a book, make a smoothie, DO YOU. At bedtime think about your day and what went well. Positive thoughts go a long way to becoming more present. 

Setting Intentions 

How many of you say you are going to do something and days later completely forget about it? Like on January 1st when you got a gym membership and never went back. You are not alone. Writing down intentions is important! This way you can hold yourself accountable. Intentions can be what you read in the morning or at night instead of scrolling on social media. You are able to go back to see whether or not you are achieving them and what you would like to change/adjust. I will leave my intentions below to get you all thinking.

♥ Take each day one at a time 

♥ Spend fifteen minutes a day without Internet connection 

♥ Do your best everyday. Kick a** & do not give up 

♥ Eat mindfully. Nourish your body 

♥ Reflect on the three best parts of each day 

♥ Give back 

♥ Spend more time with family members 

♥ Love fearlessly 

Self-Care 

Because we all need a little me time to be selfish. Taking time for you can seem like a guilty pleasure, but it shouldn’t. As a college student juggling classwork, student organizations, two jobs, and a long-distance relationship, while still squeezing in time to work out, sleep, eat healthy, and umm have a life is tiring to say the least. It is important to honor your body. Know when enough is enough. Know when to call it for the night, even if it means saying no to margs with your girlfriends. For me, this means choosing to walk to the farmers market on a Saturday morning instead of going out to darty. It means being in bed by 10 p.m. on weeknights to make it to my early a.m. spin class. Balance looks different to everyone; however, when the going gets tough (and it will) here are a couple of things that make me feel superbly selfish: 

☆ Cocokind Chlorophyll Face Mask 

☆ Honest Hazel Collagen Eye Gels 

☆ Reishi Mushroom Elixir (supports sleep and stress) 

☆ Watching re-runs of “The Hills” 

☆ Turning on an oil diffusor with essential oils 

☆ Putting in a coconut oil bun 

☆ Going to a spin class (get in the zone to Kayne West/Odesza) 

☆ Yoga to get your zen on 

☆ Going on a hike alone or with a friend 

Finale 

You will look silly, it will take time, but you will feel better. Finding balance throughout all aspects of my life has been my challenge. I am starting to realize that every day is a new opportunity to better myself. I cannot stress enough how much better I feel now that I have started to take care of myself. I sleep better, I have more energy, and I am more positive. Positive thoughts are powerful. Your mind is powerful. Begin. Start. Take on one small change at a time. I look forward to interacting with each and every one of you who decide to embrace wellness! 

Thank you for visiting and you will be hearing from me soon ♥ Make sure to follow my other social media handles: 

Instagram: @vitabenedetta 

Facebook: @ViBenedetta 

Twitter: @ViBenedetta

The Rut 50K: A Race Report

High on the east ridge of Lone Peak, at about 10,500 feet or so, The Rut 50K started to feel like a cartoon, in which an idiot, me, runs and hikes up an incline at a fast (for me) but hopefully sustainable pace, as the grade gradually gets steeper and steeper, until, just before the summit, the idiot tips over backwards and rolls back to the start. 

This, of course, is not true. The elevation map of the race course actually looks like this:

But right around Mile 20, I felt like I’d been carefully picking my way up Lone Peak’s east ridge for six hours, three feet in front of a guy from Eugene the entire time. With the steep terrain, fatigue, altitude, a decreased amount of readily available oxygen for breathing, and the mental exhaustion of climbing a neverending pile of rocks while trying to not dislodge anything onto people below me, many elements were coming together to crush my morale, and me. 

This is also not true. I was just one of 500 or so people to sign up for The Rut 50K this year. The Rut is an annual event that is essentially a European-style sky race held in Big Sky, Montana, designed by two American sadomasochists named Mike (Foote and Wolfe), with several events ranging from a Vertical Kilometer to the 50K. One way to look at the 50K race might be, “Hey, I ran the Chicago Marathon last year, and The Rut 50K is only five miles longer than that.” 

Here are some words and phrases from the website for The Rut 50K: 

“extremely challenging”

“EXTREMELY STEEP & TECHNICAL” 

“exposure” 

“potential rockfall hazard”

“true mountain course”

“rockfall hazards”

“mountainous and technical nature” 

It’s probably good policy for mountain running race organizers to use strong language in describing their events, just so no one gets in over their head and then later says things like “no one told me would be this hard,” or “suddenly, there I was, staring death in the face,” or “[sounds of a person sitting on a pile of rocks and weeping uncontrollably].” But also, you could probably be forgiven for a tiny bit of skepticism as far as race marketing is concerned, i.e. “I don’t know, has anyone ACTUALLY died doing this ‘Death Race’ we’re signing up for?”

There is at least one spot on The Rut 50K where you could legitimately fall, and possibly not stop falling until you were dead and/or have way more than 208 bones in your body. 

I did not, as may be obvious at this point, die doing The Rut. I did perhaps underestimate it a tiny bit. 

The race started at 6:00 a.m., a few minutes before sunrise, in three waves, five minutes apart, each wave a few hundred runners jogging uphill, a stream of headlamps, nerves, and chatter leaving the Big Sky Resort base area. Where should I start? Certainly not at the front of the first wave, where the elite runners and other super-mutants would be, ripping off three-minute miles uphill or whatever. Probably not at the back of the third wave, based on my previous race results. I really had no idea what to expect, so I did what I always do: Start way too far back in the pack, and then waste tons of energy frantically trying to pass people during the race. This is probably some combination of impostor syndrome and Midwestern over-politeness, or maybe I’m just not that smart.

Another role I had signed up for: running with a younger friend, Devon, and theoretically helping him not go too fast for the first few miles of the race. Devon had finished an 18-day traverse of the Wind River Range literally 60 hours before the start, and is a full decade-plus younger than me, so for the first nine miles, we settled somewhere in between me holding him back and him dragging me up the trail. When the route went from fire road to singletrack, there were bottlenecks of single-file lines of people, where we literally stood waiting in line for a couple minutes. 

In the first nine miles, in any spot where the trail widened in the forest, Devon and I accelerated around runners in front of us, sometimes one at a time, sometimes a handful of people. I did have a small bit of anxiety knowing that at a certain point, the course would hit a 1.2-mile section climbing 2,000 feet up the ridge of Lone Peak, where it would be pretty difficult to pass anyone without them very graciously stepping off to the side of the path, so I was motivated to pass people early on, where it was easy and safe. But I had more anxiety about running myself into the ground in the first 10 miles of the race by going way too fast way too early. Just before Mile 9, I told Devon to go ahead without me, because although I am not smart, I am also not proud, and he shot off through the trees like a gazelle, finally free. 

I had thoroughly studied the course map and elevation profile in the days and weeks leading up to the race, but still found myself surprised at all the ups and downs as we tromped through the forest, popped out above treeline, then dropped back into the trees again. I had downloaded the GPX map of the course onto my phone and could open it at any time to see where I was on the course, but I decided to just keep plodding on in ignorance, following the flags. Somewhere around Mile 14 or so, the course went from what I would call “pretty normal” to “OK, this is not an actual hiking trail that anyone uses for anything not named ‘The Rut.’” At that point, I was thankful I had talked myself into carrying trekking poles, ignoring the advice of at least one friend, who was well-meaning, but who also drastically overestimated my VO2 max. I mean, they weigh 10.5 ounces, and are very handy when you want to lean on something and shed a few tears, instead of collapsing all the way to the ground to convulse with sobs. 

I managed to under-eat the morning of the race, and was hungry the entire day, shoving down Clif Bloks and Honey Stinger Waffles whenever I could, often chewing while mouth-breathing in huge gasps as I hiked steep uphills. I had packed something like 2,000 calories for the day in my vest, in hopes that it would keep me from wasting time at aid stations, because I often unintentionally spend more time gazing at the layout of M&Ms, chips, pickles, Oreos, etc. than most people do putting together a plate at the Sizzler salad bar, and then end up confused at how six people passed me in the time I took to fill one water bottle and walk away with a double-handful of Cheez-Its. 

At the 14.5-mile mark, we started climbing up steep talus. The pack had thinned out and I had found a pretty appropriate spot, every once in a while passing someone or letting someone pass me, but for the most part able to settle in, put my head down, and watch my feet. Surely, I thought—without actually checking my GPS app to see where we were on the course—this must be the big climb up Lone Peak. Here we go. 

Imagine my internal dismay 40 minutes later when the route started going downhill from a high point of about 10,100 feet. Going down always feels good, but not as good when you know you’ll have to climb right back up every single foot you descend. We dropped to 8,280 feet, hitting a fire road, which was nice for a few minutes, I guess. But the course’s high point was 11,166 feet, somewhere above us. 

  If you hit Mile 17 during a flat-ish 50K, you’re psyched! You’re more than halfway to the finish! If you hit Mile 17 during The Rut, you are … not as psyched! You are more than halfway to the finish … in mileage only! You are about to spend an hour or an hour and a half grinding up a steep incline, 2,900 feet in 2.5 miles! You will “run” a 40-minute mile! Your fancy GPS watch will, instead of showing your pace per mile, will display a series of dashes, basically saying “you are not moving—are you OK?”

The good thing is, you eventually get to the top. Maybe you’re motivated by finishing the race, maybe because everywhere you look you’re surrounded by angular blocks of rock that would not be comfortable to sit or lie down on, maybe because finishing the race will be a visceral metaphor for other things you hope to face in life, or maybe because you know deep down that literally hundreds of other people have done the same thing so you can too, and some of those people have literally gotten a complimentary Run the Rut tattoo at the finish line, a real tattoo, not a temporary one, because that is a thing they do at this race. 

At the top of Lone Peak are some nice people handing out water and snacks, including, when I was there, a shirtless man wearing a full-length fur coat. The actual aid station we passed through was a solid 30 or 40 vertical feet below the summit of Lone Peak itself, and for a moment, my inner peak-bagger felt conflicted about getting this close to the summit after working that hard to get there and not actually tagging it, but I decided to keep moving forward, and down the mountain. 

The route down Lone Peak is steep, starting with dinner-plate talus, then scree, then steep trails. I had seen people wearing running gaiters at the beginning of the race, and as I made my way down and kicked rocks into my own shoes, I thought this might be the one place I could have used them in my life. Alas, I did not have any. Nor did I take the time to do proper self-care/self-preservation practices, like, I don’t know, emptying the rocks out of my shoes at any point during the final 11 miles of the race. 

I enjoy lying to myself during races, a tactic I believe is a form of positive self-talk. I do not enjoy it when I catch myself in the lies I have told myself earlier. Such as “You’ll start feeling better when you only have five miles to go,” or “That weird feeling in your lower intestine is unlikely to turn into anything remotely explosive before the end of the race,” or in this case, “That was the last big climb—it should be a cruise from here,” and “We’re back below treeline, so it’s probably just gently rolling from here on out.” 

I had read some race reports from previous years, so I should have been well aware that the last 10 miles or so seemed to be generally demoralizing. True, all the “big” climbs were out of the way, and most of what was left was below treeline. But before the finish, we still had a 500-foot climb, a 900-foot climb, and a 400-foot climb. I started up the beginning of the 900-foot climb, on a steep trail that I’m pretty sure I heard had a rope on it at one point for runners to use to pull themselves up the incline, and found myself surrounded by a glut of people in various states of mild to extreme discontent: our pace slowed to an uphill crawl, some people muttering half-jokes about how terrible they felt, others hunched over with their hands on their knees or leaning on a tree, maybe about to throw up. I kept going, thankful I had trekking poles, both as life support and security blanket. 

This, I think, is where many people start to hate the Rut. You start to ask yourself what the point of going up and down these hills is (as if the whole idea of the race isn’t also contrived and pointless, in the grand scheme of human existence), why they would send you this way instead of a route that’s more friendly (or even just flat), and maybe why you didn’t sign up for the 28K or the 11K instead of the 50K. 

The singletrack gave way to a road, which started to ease up as I inched closer to an aid station. Spectators waiting for the runner(s) they knew to come through dotted the sides of the road, cheering everyone who came past. One woman yelled, “Nice job, you’re almost there,” and I said “Thank you, existentially, we’re already there, aren’t we?” I power-hiked into the aid station and a young gentleman named Dash filled my water bottles and I grabbed a couple half-bananas and gulped them down. 

The course wound mostly downhill through intermittent forest, finally topping out on the last climb a half-mile from the finish line, where a couple guys sitting on the side of the fire road told me Nice job, you’re really, really done with the last climb now, and then another guy 100 feet later said “Those guys are lying,” and I laughed as I jogged past, the ski area base within view, and around the corner from that, the finish line. Which is where, I think, people begin the transition from hating the Rut to loving the Rut. As is common in this sport, the same person who, at 1 p.m. one day carries themselves along a trail on fumes of motivation and curses everything that brought them to that point, 24 or 48 hours later will earnestly tell people who ask about their race, “It was great.” Whatever that means. 

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The post The Rut 50K: A Race Report appeared first on Semi-Rad.com.

It’s hard to put into words what our first week on trail has been like, but I’ll try.

Tiring. Hot. Cold. Amazing. Beautiful. Adventure. Ouch. Hungry. Thirsty. Dirty. Smelly.

There you have it!

Starting out the PCT was an emotional experience. It was surreal hiking those first few miles, and then it just sinks in “oh right, this is just hiking. And hiking is just walking. And walking is tiring. Wow it’s hot. Wait, how am I already this dirty?” We only made it about .3 miles when we came upon a little campground with some trail angels that we talked to briefly. One of them was an older man with long white silver hair and blue eyes named Legend who apparently is a triple crowner (has hiked the PCT, AT and CDT). He told us to put our hands towards the trail and then grab some air and cup it into a ball in our hands. He said we had grabbed a little piece of magic from the PCT and it is carried in all the hikers who had gone before us and that we were all connected. He told us to hold it up to our hearts to absorb, but being the brilliant nurse that I am, I held it to the right side of my chest instead of the left, so I guess that means the magic went into my rib cage instead. I’m not an expert in PCT magic 🤷🏻‍♀️ so who knows how it will affect me. Magic ribs? Time will tell. He also told us to take another piece of PCT magic and put it in our pocket to give to a friend. I will sell mine to the highest bidder. Authentic PCT magic, hard to come by, Bitcoin will be accepted as a trade.

Hiking has been very physically exhausting for me, more than I expected to be honest. We’re going about 2-2.3 miles per hour at this point, and have done 10-16 miles per day. We wake up between 6-7 AM, pack up our stuff and head out. Generally we eat breakfast at our first break of the day after 3-4 miles, and I’ve found that I need a break about every 3 miles. If we can get to a great spot for lunch, we will generally take at least an hour and sometimes more if it’s in the heat of the day. We try to stop hiking between 5-6 pm, so we can have time to set up camp, make dinner, roll out our feet and sore muscles, and write in our journals before bed. We are very tired every night, but sometimes we don’t sleep very well if it’s windy or very cold. I always take my trusty Benadryl and sleep better with it!

The hardest part for me so far has been the wear and tear on my feet. The biggest mistake I made at the start was not putting inserts in my shoes. My feet have been in a lot of pain and I’ve had to take more breaks to roll them out to continue hiking. No matter how tired I am, I have to roll out my feet at the end of the day or they fee pretty rough the next day. I’ve also been dealing with some blisters and some chafing, so basically everything hurts! Doing miles on miles every single day is a lot of work, and we are sore every day. Other hikers that we’ve met who have done other thru hikes assure us that we will get our trail legs (eventually) but it’s going to take about 3 weeks

Ok, enough complaining!! We have met some amazing people. Landon’s cousin Justin hiked out with us the first day and it was fun to give him a taste of the trail. There was a small group of people that we started with who have been a bit faster than us and are now ahead of us on the trail, but maybe we’ll run into them again!

We met a mother and son duo named Chris and Pat. Pat is a psychologist at a University and counsels students. She was the nicest friendliest little lady and I immediately liked her. Chris, her son, works in film media and is trying to become a landscape photographer. They were both lovely but Pat can't go very fast so I'm not sure we'll see them again, but we're following each other on Instagram now.

We’ve spent quite a bit of time with a small group of hikers, hiking and also hanging out with them in Julian (where we are taking our first zero day, no hiking and only lots of resting, eating and socializing). Half of them are not American which is exciting! Florian is from Germany and is a super interesting guy. He works for Google and has lived in Australia, the UK, and most recently in San Francisco. We talked about the differences between Germany and Europe, some about politics (how crazy American politics are compared to relatively boring German ones), gun control, Mental illness and lack of resources in America, our messed up healthcare system, the largeness of Australian huntsman spiders, and a whole bunch of other things. Lauren is from Canada and loves to quiz you about geography and ask fun questions. Today she asked "which animal most represents the place that you live?" Landon and I debated for a while and decided on a big horn sheep 🐑. She and Florian met on the JMT and are hiking together as friends as they both have significant others. She is always scavenging for everyone’s extra food and someone suggested that her trail name be Trash Panda (people give each other “trail names” on thru hikes, and then that’s how people introduce themselves. We haven’t gotten ours yet but it’s only a matter of time). I don’t think she accepted that trail name though 😂


Another woman from the group is from Germany named Silke who is a bit more shy but still friendly, and man is she fit. She just blazed past us on the trail today. We also gave her a piece of pop tart and some skittles to try, and she hated both, which was very funny to watch her disgusted reaction. She hasn’t built up the junk food tolerance that we have I suppose, it takes years to build and I started very young! Carolina is from the Czech Republic, and has a great sense of humor. I can’t imagine the kind of bravery it takes to go to a foreign country where you know no one and the language spoken isn’t your first language, and taking on a monumental task like hiking the PCT. It’s pretty incredible and I have a lot of respect for all the hikers, but especially the foreign ones. We took a picture yesterday before Carolina had showered and she said “I look so dirty and crazy!” 😂 I ask just about everyone “what does your family think of your coming out to do this?” and the most common answers include “they don’t really get it...” and “They think I’m crazy.”

Otter is a 58 year old guy who was in the airforce for 30 years and has spent the last 5 years of his retirement hiking and traveling. He hiked the Appalachian Trail in 2019. Otter said that he decided to hike the AT initially because he read a story of a guy in his town who hiked it when he was 18. The guy had to ask permission from the board of education in Virginia to graduate high school early in order to hike it, and they told him no, so he quit high school and did it anyways. Otter told us that he read that and it stuck with him, and he made it a goal of his to hike the AT someday. He said it took 35 years, but he always remembered that guy and wanted to do it. Just goes to show that you never know what kind of impact you can have on the people around you! He has been very kind to us and let us come to the Airbnb that he had rented to do laundry and shower when we got into Julian, and we have used the Airbnb as a hangout zone for our whole group yesterday and today, which has been great. After showering and having clean clothes, we almost felt like normal people 😂. In Mt Laguna at mile 42, we showered in a campground bathroom and washed our laundry in the shower like the hiker trash we now are. Real food from a restaurant and a cold drink from a trail angel (people that provide food/drinks/rides to hikers) is also incredible. When you’re living so minimally, the little things are a big deal!

Lastly we have Brandon, who I met on Instagram last year and was also supposed to hike the trail but canceled due to Covid. He ended up getting a permit for this year too and started the day after us (coincidentally he is also a travel nurse). Last night, after hanging out at the Airbnb, We camped behind the Julian Market (they allow PCT hikers to camp there) and Brandon came too. At 5:30 in the morning after just settling back down into his sleeping bag after getting up to pee, he hears a voice say “oh good, you’re up. I really need someone to talk to.” He looks over and sees this strange girl that he doesn’t know (and wasn’t there when we went to bed) who is wrapped up in her sleeping bag. He says “Oh, um..are you ok?” And she says “I have no pants”. And proceeds to tell him that she ripped her hiking shorts and didn’t carry any warm sleeping clothes because they were too heavy. He tells her that she needs to have warm base layers if she is going to continue hiking (and not die) and that she can pick some up at the gear store in town. She tells him that she asked the guy she was hiking with if she could come and cuddle with him and he told her no, so she knocked on some random strangers window at 3 AM and asked for a ride from Mt Laguna to Julian, and the stranger gave her a ride (and luckily didn’t murder her). So that’s how she ended up on that back porch in Julian, possibly staring at Brandon for hours and willing him to wake up to tell him this. Apparently she talked to him for about 45 more minutes and at some point said that she was waiting for her meds to arrive. He said “Maybe you should call your family?” And she said “no way! They’ll freak out” 😬. Landon and I were returning from using the bathroom and we walked right past them, I thought that they knew each other somehow and somehow missed the pleading desperation in Brandon’s eyes to help him in this incredibly awkward 5:30 AM conversation with this random girl. Eventually she ended up going to the pie shop across the street and sitting in there to get warm and charge her phone. Long story short, I really hope that girl is ok, because hiking the PCT is hard enough as it is without having any warm pants. Also, hiking is not a replacement for a support system and therapy. Be safe and get mentally healthy before you hike!!

One last funny story. This morning we were eating at a diner when the waitress came over to take our order. She looked at me hesitantly and said “Um...I’m not sure how to handle this...you have a spider on your hat.” I yelped and threw my hat on the table. She grabbed my hat and took it outside and gently shook it off and de-spidered it for me before bringing it back to me 😥. What a good lady!! Please tell people if they are wearing spiders and help them out. I guess I am just becoming one with nature now.

Anyways, this is long enough, but I just want to say that we’ve had lots of great experiences, seen beautiful scenery, and met awesome people. Even though this is incredibly hard, it’s such a cool adventure and I am loving having a great partner to experience it with me. Hoping my feet are doing better in the next section and that none of my blisters get infected! Our friends helped me shake down my pack today and I was able to get rid of at least a pound in weight. When you carry everything on your back, hips and shoulders, every little ounce makes a difference! Much love to everyone and thanks for the support, it’s been a great first week!

- Joscelyn

P.S. - I’ll post our daily mileage for anyone who is interested

Day 1

Start: Mile 0 Mexican Border

Stop: Mile 11.4

Total: 11.4 miles

Day 2

Start: Mile 11.4

Stop: Mile 26 Boulder Creek Campground

Total: 14.6 miles

Went thru Lake Morena

Day 3

Start: Mile 26 Boulder Creek Campground

Stop: Mile 37.1

Total: 11.1 miles

Elevation gain: about 3k feet 🦶

Day 4

Start: Mile 37.1

Stop: Mile 47.7

Total Mileage: 10.6

Went thru Mt Laguna

Day 5

Start: Mile 47.7

Stop: Mile 63.7

Total: 16 Miles

Day 6

Start: Mile 63.7

Stop: Mile 77

Total: 13.3 Miles

Day 7

Zero Day In Julian

Spelunking in Russia

-- Disclaimer -- This story is from summer 2014. I wrote the beginning shortly after it happened, and never penned the rest until just now, six years later. So sadly I can’t remember a lot of the small details, but I try to recount the story to the best of my recollection. Here goes nothing...

Hi all, sorry it's been so long since my last post, but I promise this story's worth the wait.

So last week was the final week for the students on the 4-week program. To celebrate, we all went to a bar on Friday night and I tried a vodka milkshake.  I'm not sure if I liked it..I think I would have preferred just the milkshake.

Then I walked home with some friends and was finally out late enough that I got to see the city "at night" - I say this in quotes because at 1 or 2 AM the sky still wasn't completely dark. St. Petersburg at night is absolutely beautiful.

When Marie and I got home (Marie is the other student who lives with the same host family as I do), we went into the kitchen for water and a snack. Alexey, the father of the 3 small girls who all live with us, comes into the kitchen and prepares himself a meal (remember, this is about 2, 2:30 in the morning). He starts talking to us pretty quickly (well, normally I guess, but to us it seems fast) and we nod along, even though we don't understand what he's saying.

Then his father-in-law, Sasha (a diminutive for Alexander), comes into the kitchen and asks us if we understand. We admit that we don't and he gets annoyed that we didn't say anything, but to be honest it's late and we're pretty tired. Sasha explains that Alexey and Julia (his wife) met in a cave. "Ahhhh" we say, as if that explains the entire 5 minutes of talking we just heard. Then Alexey, speaking slower, goes on to explain something to us. All I am able to distinguish is: "forest," "photographs," "festival," "you will get dirty." He asks us if we want to come with him. Marie passes but I, feeling adventurous, say I would like to.

The next day (well, technically later on the same day), on Saturday, I finish my homework and wait for Alexey to return. **Now writing in retrospect, 6 years later, based off memory.** I’m clad out in a new pair of hiking pants and some sneakers. When Alexey returns he looks at me and asks if that’s what I’m going in, because it looks too nice to get dirty. I feel self-conscious and say it’s fine. He packs some bags and we head down the old staircase to his old jeep and take off.

The car ride is bumpy to say the least. As a typical driver in St. Petersburg, Alexey zooms in and out of traffic in his very used, very noisy jeep, the safety of which is questionable. At one point the car stalls. Russian music plays on the radio as this stranger that I’ve known all but a few interactions drives me toward the outskirts of the city and beyond, out into the country where the roads are narrow, without shoulders. Since he doesn’t speak English and I barely know Russian, we don’t hold a conversation.

After about 45 minutes or an hour, he pulls over the car and informs me that we’ve arrived. I look around. All I see are fields and forests. Still, I’ve been to a huge music festival in Denmark before that’s held in the middle of farms, so I go with it. I get out the car to help him unload the trunk but he just changes shoes and says to get back into the car, that he’ll go another way. Confused, I get back into the car and Alexey starts driving off the road and into the forest. There’s no road, but Alexey weaves between trees, as he did in traffic, the car bouncing so violently that I picture the screws falling out and the whole car just going to pieces.

By this point, I start to get a little worried. Why did this man take me out to the middle of nowhere? Surely I can’t be in any danger because the school program know him, right? I mean, they are letting me live with him and his family. Yet I can’t help wondering…

Then he stops suddenly - trees are blocking the way. He backs up, driving just as fast in reverse as he was going forward, weaving through the trees backward. Stops. Forward again. Then we’re there, and I see a bonfire and some tents. Relief washes over me. We set up a small orange 2-person tent a bit away from the others and Alexey tells me to follow him through the woods. Despite the signs of other people, I don’t see anyone.

We leave our stuff in the tent and walk a few minutes until we get to a crater in the ground with a small hole at the bottom, like a tunnel. We’re close to the roadway - I hear a truck go by. Alexey starts speaking quickly in Russian. He hands me a flashlight, motions to the tunnel in the crater and says “You go first.”

I’m starting to suspect that there’s no music festival, after all.

I climb down, turn the flashlight on, and enter the cave. Alexey follows behind me. The space is small, dark, and damp, and every time a truck passes on the road the earth trembles. Alexey motions for me to follow and we venture further into the cave, at some points squeezing through narrow spaces to get into the next “room.” I feel extremely claustrophobic. Some water drips on my head, or is it slime from bats? I don’t like caves one bit, I conclude.

Alexey starts speaking to me. I think he’s explaining different types of rocks, but I have no clue what he’s saying. I try asking what the caves are used for. I think he mentions something about bunkers in the wartime. Makes sense, I think.

Then, much to my relief, Alexey motions back to the single entrance and we exit the cave. Nearby is another crater - in fact, they’re everywhere. Now I hear voices. We enter another hole and it’s like some sort of art exhibit, or the private meeting place of a secret society. Candles are lit, figures are drawn on the cave walls, and a small group of Russian boys and men are drinking and talking in the cave. Alexey greets them and introduces me.

I’m embarrassed when he says I’m American and they all are suddenly fascinated. They start asking me questions, practicing their broken english, and laughing. I have a sinking feeling that they’re laughing at me and slinging some insults. I try my best to respond, and not feel self-conscious. I spout my rehearsed intro about myself and why I’m in Russia - to learn the language because I think it’s a pretty language. They offer me alcohol but I decline.

When we get outside, we head to the tents, where others have now gathered, among them women and children. I start speaking with them and we eat dinner (I think some sort of hot dogs and beans? Though I can’t say I remember). We talk about Russian novels, and poems, and music. I’m embarrassed that I don’t know more but they’re impressed with what I do know, and I feel a bond. Vodka is passed around. Then someone breaks out their guitar and the whole camp - about 10 of us maybe - starts singing together.

We stay that way for a while, until the sun finally disappears and night falls. I get to know a young mother (Irina) and her young son, and another girl from Moscow, Natasha, who’s about my age (I will go on to visit them each again, twice, during my stay in Russia. I’m still friends with them on Facebook and Vkontaktya).

I feel much more at ease now that I have made some female friends. Then someone picks up a shovel, yells “Davai!”, and heads off into the darkness. Everyone follows with flashlights, still singing and strumming the guitar. We get to another crater and two men jump in and start shoveling, one of them now shirtless. The music continues and the shovelers swap out. I think they’re trying to find an entrance to another cave. (I don’t remember if they actually did, but I don’t think so.)

It seems like hours pass like this before people start heading back to camp for bed. It was starting to get light again, but because it was summer (white nights), it was still the middle of the night. Alexey and I made our way to the small, orange tent and, exhausted, fell asleep. I slept in my clothes, next to my host-brother, and though we each had our own sleeping bag, I felt quite weird about the situation. Anyway, he snored, and the next thing I knew it was morning.

We ate some kasha or bagels and cheese (I think) for breakfast and packed up. I guess the cave exploring was over (thank God). I swapped telephone numbers with Irina and Natasha, and made plans to go to the beach along the Baltic with them later that day. Then Alexey and I drove back home.

The beach we went to was close to Irina’s dacha, out in the country. We had to take a train and then stand on a hot and overcrowded marshutka to get there. Many locals spent their summers at their dachas, or traveled there on weekends, which was the case for my host-family. On the train I could see travelers hauling bags of freshly picked mushrooms and berries from the countryside back into the city.

By this point, my Russian improved a lot and I was able to have pretty meaningful conversations with Irina and Natasha about the differences between the US and Russia, especially around finances. Sadly, Natasha had to return to Moscow the next day, and although we met up when I visited Moscow one weekend with the school program, we haven’t kept in touch. I feel like we would have become friends if she lived in St. Petersburg.

Irina did live in St. Petersburg, in the outskirts, and I did visit her for dinner one evening. Because I was super late, I didn’t have time to buy any food or housewarming gift. I know is considered rude to show up empty-handed, and I tried to explain that I didn’t want to be more late than I was already, and apologized many times, but honestly I was too embarrassed to hold close contact with her after.

Overall, spelunking in Russia was the craziest thing I did there. I was uncomfortable the entire time, but I’m so glad I impulsively decided to go. I can’t say that anything tangible came out of if (lasting friendships, hard skills, or even photos because I was too nervous to take any), but this memory sure does make for one hell of a story, and I’ll never forget it.

it’s already tennnnnnnnnnnnn

i uh. am still very burnt out. worse than yesterday. i feel dumb. like my head is a bucket full of goop. silly putty.

i woke up kind of on time. i felt very, strange when i woke up. i felt like i knew exactly what to do. but what i knew to do i don’t know. i went back to sleep for ten minutes. my arm’s got what seems like an irritated patch. i was thinking road rash, but looking that up, it’s not that severe. but it’s been bothering me. it’s near my wrist where i used to hurt myself a lot. i don’t any more, but the skin still gets irritated pretty easy i guess.

anyway, i went in and taught my class. after that my brain died. i took my office hour to mostly have a lunch break and only spent a half hour (out of the 50 minutes) grading. i also helped out the students a little bit. my tuesday office hour is in the practice lab so i get students coming by to practice for their lab sessions sometimes.

after that i spent just over two hours grading i think... i got a section done? i think? i don’t remember. and i filled out my paperwork for next semester with the registrar. as i was heading up to her office i was worried i would start crying if i sat down. i didn’t but it sure felt like i was gonna. after that i went to coffee cookie hour with jennica and taylor and luis and rebika. i gave rebika so much sass that she left though. i felt kinda bad but i joked that i couldn’t tease her if she wasn’t around. i was a little nicer to her after that except when she asked me a really rude question before i left for the night. i’ll get to that.

the undergrads had baked “trick” cookies and “treat” cookies as a special thing for halloween. i had one of both. and also a sugar bone.

oh i was wearing spider earrings today to be super spooky. and also my “Cool Dude” shirt because it is technically a costume and also because it makes me feel better about myself.

the “trick” cookie was baked with sriracha. i figured it out pretty fast. one of the professors commented on it later and i laughed and told him what kind of hot sauce it was.

the undergrad sam sat by me and luis and jennica again and started calling me cute repeatedly. i started getting kiiiinda tilted. 

“yeah, i’m super cute, i’m not an actual person with real feelings like sadness,” i grinned at her. 

she turned to luis. “she’s super cute when she gets mad and copies me,” she said to him.

“someday you’ll have to stop flirting with me to luis,” i told her. 

she laughed and said that was cute too. i think she is doing it to antagonize me. i am not sure why she is so fixated on such a belittling term, especially since we haven’t really had an actual conversation before.

i looked at jennica, who was dressed up as misty, and also sitting across the table from me. “which story should i tell her to get her to shut up?” i asked. 

“don’t,” she said.

“why not?” i leaned over to look at her phone.

she was all like, “because you’ll make ME sad.”

over the course of the day i had a lot of trouble having actual conversations though. i’d just perked up a bit because i had a cup of tea and mint tea cheers me up a little bit. talking to harrison was a huge slog. not because he’s hard to talk to, but because i couldn’t hold on to a sentence long enough to finish it.

he was super tired too. apparently this is the worst classical homework assignment we’ve ever had, and i still haven’t started on it. quantum’s due tomorrow too and i haven’t started on that either. but we hung out and talked for like an hour from 4 to 5. after that i got settled back in and worked on grading until after 7:30.

at some point i sent an email out to my professors and supervisor at danielle’s request. i’d asked her for help with communicating to my professors that i am really not feeling good and haven’t been for several days and i just haven’t gotten around to doing the homework. she said to email them and cc her so they could ask her questions if needed. so i did that.

i finished another section... i have finished 6, and have 3 left. harrison and suzanne have said that grading this last one is a nightmare but so few people finish that you can kinda just not worry about the last page or two. so that’ll cut down my grading time at least. and i already have a rubric made. 

the last 45 minutes i spent entering my grades into the database. so even if i haven’t finished ALL my work, i have my grade book on the school network up to date with attendance and elearning quiz scores and the 2 labs that i’ve finished grading. so all that’s left for the midterm scores is that last lab. that’s like 3/4 of the things i needed to have uploaded by the end of today... right?

as i was packing up to leave for the evening at 7:40 because i was too exhausted to continue, rebika came into my office looking for something on jennica’s desk. 

i’ve been working in my office instead of suzanne’s the last few days. it’s quieter and cooler so i can wear my sweater. the other office is really warm because it’s crowded most of the time and also because luis is running like three computers at once. 

she asked if i finished the classical. i said no. she asked if i had finished the quantum due tomorrow. i got irritated and said no because i’ve been grading for five thousand years.

“what the f is wrong with you?” she asked. i didn’t look at her and i didn’t answer. 

i mean like, she didn’t literally say “f” she said the full word. i just don’t feel like typing it out.

she started talking again at some point but i wasn’t listening. i biked home and made tempeh tacos and they were super good and i figured out how to get the tempeh the way i like it again. 

then it was 8:45 so i just... i don’t know. talked with an internet friend i guess. watched some youtube videos. not sure how i passed an hour actually. oh, i cleaned snoopy’s litter box, that took a few minutes. taking a break doesn’t seem to be helping me feel any better. maybe a solid meal will help me feel better in the morning. i certainly feel full for like the first time in a week... i’m sad that i couldn’t hit that deadline. i won’t have much time to work on it tomorrow, unless like, i skip e&m, which, i can’t guarantee that i am dropping it yet. so skipping would be bad. but if i do end up dropping it i’m mostly just wasting my time right now going to a class i can’t pass anyway.

stuck.

i’m still having trouble concentrating and processing things that are happening around me. like i literally can’t focus any more even though i still need to keep going. biking is kinda rough like this. my attention to my surroundings limping along with giant holes in my peripheral vision and ability to register sounds.

it’s probably not as bad as i’m making it sound. i got home fine. i’m just not quite sure how, now that i am home.

i can feel myself getting sick. like a mild cold, but still not something i want to deal with. harrison seemed to think it might be allergies, and it could easily just be the sudden change in weather since the cold front blew in. but also, working 9-10 hours a day every day with no breaks is wearing down my gears. like i take breaks, and i try to eat healthy and get enough sleep and shower and take care of myself, but it’s just, it’s too much. the only fun thing i did only for me and only because i wanted to enjoy it was taking a bike ride out to gamestop on saturday to get the event pokemon. even playing smash with my classmates is like, with the intention of calming down for a scheduled 50 minutes so i can get back to work immediately. 

i try to do something like that once a week. going to poker night. riding out to gamestop, or the book convention. but it’s only a few hours out of the week. the rest of it i’m working on finances or restocking my apartment in order to live or doing homework hour after hour after hour. i would like just a day off with nothing to do except hang out with friends and do what i feel like. maybe listen to an episode of taz for the first time in a month and a half. i heard the new arc is good. but i don’t have ANY time to sit and listen to a 90-minute podcast.

maybe even... two days off? is that too much? that seems like too much. i feel like i’d get bored. even though i have like 25 tv shows i’d like to watch, and a short story i haven’t gotten to touch in a month, and stuff to do around town with my friends that we just haven’t been able to get to. hang out by the lake! go for a hike! i dunno, spend some time outside! it’s nice out!!

anyway my writing time is up. i will try not to stay up for an extra 45 minutes tonight. wish me luck i guess.

my classmates have started trying to cheer me up when they see me. i appreciate the gesture... i told them that even i just don’t know what would cheer me up though.

Easter Adventures: Part Two

Please scroll down for Part One if you haven’t already seen it!

At the end of our first adventure I still had another 10 days of annual leave to go, and unfortunately Tom had to go back to work so I did the next part solo.

I had decided to fly out to Tasmania to visit my 4th state, hire a campervan and explore as much as I could in a week! It was somewhere my dad has visited many times for work and had always spoken very fondly of it so was excited to see what was in store!

Day 1: An early morning flight out of Sydney meant arriving in Hobart by 09:30. As I stepped off the plane in my shorts and T shirt, my body had a bit of a shock to be greeted with a blistering cold wind! I wasn’t quite prepared for the significant drop in temperature Tassie had in store compared to sunny Newcastle! I picked up my ‘camperwagon’ (essentially a people carrier with the back converted into a table/sofa which could then be made into a bed, with a roof box on top and an ‘esky’ to keep my food cold) and warmed up inside, looking at a map of Tasmania to decide where to go! Hobart is very busy on a Saturday due to their famous Salamanca markets so my plans to have a quick look around were swiftly abandoned due to the sheer terror of trying to find anywhere to pack this vehicle 2.5 times the size of my normal car! So I drove out of Hobart CBD up to famous MONA (Museum of Old and New Art) which was described by David Walsh, the owner of all the artwork, as a ‘subversive adult Disneyland’! It is no secret that I struggle with the concept of a lot of modern art pieces and this was no different, although it was a very impressive museum and I did understand some meaning to some of the works…! 

Once I had exhausted by art gallery capacity, I started the drive down to Eaglehawk Neck and the Tasman Peninsula. My first impression was the sheer amount of roadkill – every 50 metres or so there were carcasses of wallabies, possums and wombats. However during a brief drive in the dark that evening, I could see why as the roads were teeming with animals trying to cross! I found a spot at Tessellated Pavement which lacked any ‘no overnight camping’ signs and decided to park there for the night! Before nightfall (which is at 5pm this whole trip..!) I made some visits along the jagged coastline to the beautiful Tasman Arch, Devil’s Kitchen and blowhole! Without wanting to use up the battery life on my head torch on day one, I was in bed by 6pm!

The ‘Tessellated Pavement’.

Tasman arch

Day 2: An early morning video call with my lovely girl friends in England who were having the first weekend get together there without me! Whilst extremely sad not to be with them, it was absolutely amazing to catch up with them and made extra special by the news that one of them is pregnant! 

I then drove further into the peninsula to go to Port Arthur, the famous former convict settlement which in the 1800s was the destination for the hardest of convicted British criminals. The area was chosen for its location as a ‘natural prison’ – surrounded by miles and miles of dry forest, this place was un-survivable for anyone who tried to escape, although there were some both funny and sombre stories of those who tried (none were successful)! The level of torture they endured whilst in prison was extremely harrowing to hear. There was also a ‘Separate Prison’, a new model of prison where prisoners lost their identity, were called only by numbers, could not speak, had masks on and were confined day and night. It was thought that this model would bring the prisoners’ minds to a ‘more healthy condition’ but all it did was make them all very mentally ill. ‘Point Puer’ was an island within the area where boys as young as 7 were sent from the UK for crimes (one boy was sent for stealing a toy from a shop!) and in contrast to the Separate Prison, were taught skills and crafts to give them a focus and provide opportunities for life after prison – prisons like this were then set up in the Isle of Wight to save having to ship them all to the other side of the world! The day I went also happened to be the 23rd anniversary of the Port Arthur massacre – a terrible mass shooting at the historic site, and one of the worst in Australia which led to fundamental changes in national gun laws. 

That afternoon I drove up to Freycinet National Park and set up my camp at the beautiful ‘Friendly Beaches’. There was a stunning sunset (this will be a recurring theme of this blog post…) and lots of very friendly wallabies! I made a big hearty pasta dish on my stove and sat star-gazing at the very clear night sky!

Day 3: The sunrise from the beach the following morning was equally stunning and was a lovely calming way to start the day! I drove down into the National Park to do a long walk down to the clear waters of Wineglass Bay, across the barren isthmus to Hazards Beach and then an undulating bush walk! Arrived back to a wallaby investigating my van and when I went to go fill up my water and left the door open, it tried to hop inside! Northward bound, stopped off at a few places including Bicheno – famous for its penguins and blowhole before reaching Bay of Fires – again another beach stop, and if the fiery sunset was anything to go by I can see where it gets its name! I had company whilst I made dinner that night – a wallaby with its joey and 2 possums who seemed very persistent in trying to get in on some of my curry!

Day 4: Tea on the beach with the sunrise! Waking up before 6am after a good 11 hours sleep each night was a pretty foreign concept to me! I packed up and drove back down to St Helen’s, 10 minutes away as I had spotted a public shower in a carpark whilst driving past the previous day! This was my first shower of the trip and it was so very needed. I never thought a $2, 3 minute slot in a grotty shower in a public restroom would feel like the best shower of my life! I was heading away from the coast I had rather fallen for, and inland towards Launceston! It was a stunning drive, varying between windy narrow roads up mountains, barren plateaus, and profiles of jagged mountains from surrounding National Parks! Instead of trying to navigate my van around another city, I went straight to Cataract Gorge, just on the outskirts of Launceston, and did a beautiful walk along its edge! This was followed by a drive north along the coast of the Tamar River; the region is famous for its many wineries but unfortunately being my only driver, I was not able to indulge in such activities! 

Cataract Gorge

View over Tamar River

Day 5: Treated myself to my first meal not cooked on a camping stove for breakfast and went out to a café called Bryher in Launceston. It was top on the Tripadvisor list for breakfast and I can see why! They used all local and seasonal ingredients, and I was served up an enormous and filling bowl of porridge topped with quince, walnuts and brown butter – absolutely perfect! Today, I was starting my journey south again, but this time through the centre, which involved some very very winding mountain roads up to the Central Plateau Reservation. Gone were the lush landscapes of the coast, and replaced with dry and bare trees as far as the eye could see! I found a beautiful spot to camp next to mirror-like Meadow Bank Lake which proved for a lovely afternoon of photography!

Day 6: I had rather been looking forward to the sunrise from my current spot but woke up surrounded by a fog right up to my windows – I couldn’t even see the other van parked only a few metres away! However over the course of 30 minutes, it lifted to exposure a rather stunning misty sunrise so I was by no means left disappointed! It was only a 30 minute drive to my next stop: Mount Field National Park, where I had decided to spend my penultimate night! It is famous mainly for its waterfalls and platypuses! My van was set up right next to the river where I know platypus sightings were regular but despite all my attempts, involving crouching silently for a very long time at dusk and dawn, I didn’t see any! I did a few lovely walks around the National Park and was again joined by a possum for dinner! 

Russell Falls

A Tasmanian Pademelon

Day 7: Savoured my last bit of countryside before driving back to Hobart for an explore! The parking was just a stressful as I remembered so ended up quite quickly driving out and up to Mount Wellington which overlooks the city and surrounds! I was unprepared for how cold and windy it was up there but the views were to die for! There were no campsites or overnight-camping-friendly carparks in Hobart so ended up finding a quiet-looking residential street in Sandy Point. After getting used to trying to sleep with the van angled downward into the gutter, it was looking promising until the road became a boy racer’s playground at about midnight. Not the best night’s sleep but considering the quality of the previous 6 nights, I could hardly complain!

Day 8: I spent my final morning exploring the famous Salamanca Markets in central Hobart, and the very autumnal Botanical gardens of Tasmania which were beautiful! It was sadly the end of my trip, so it was back to Newcastle and a new job in Belmont Hospital!

There is so much left I’d love to see in Tasmania, particularly Cradle Mountain National Park where I have a list of hikes to do already! I was utterly blown away by the place so it’s safe to say this will have been the first trip of many, I hope!

July 10, 2017. Back in Horta. Crazy party weekend!

Sorry it's been a little while! Ok July 5... It was another great Airbnb experience. We had a lovely Italian couple, Cristina and Andréa, who are campers and hikers. They have spent a few days in the Azores already, camping for a couple days and then finding an Airbnb to take a break. We picked them up in Horta and took them across to Madalena, Pico. We anchored and had a nice sleep except the church bells ringing every hour. And then the ferry first thing in the morning blaring his horn quite unnecessarily haha. But they said they had a great sleep. They brought sardines to bbq for supper and they were delicious. I made a salad and we had some coleslaw left. Add a bottle of wine and we had a lovely meal. The next morning we just had jam and fresh bread rolls for breakfast with a a glass of orange juice...after our coffees first of course lol. They just wanted something light because they had another busy day of hiking and camping ahead of them. We took them to shore and said our goodbyes. They were awesome. Very sweet and intelligent. Mike and I went for a snorkel shortly after they left. I tried to get some footage but the water wasn't very clear. We did find a couple "Venus Ears" which have the mother of pearl inside and little holes that go around the edge. It's in the shape of an ear of you hadn't guessed. I will post a pic of our collection. Then we decided to sail out of Madalena and head for Velas. The guys in Horta port authority told us there was a race from Horta to Velas on Saturday (July 8) and that is was gonna be a big party. The weekend was the 30th annual cultural festival and was going to be a huge celebration. We had a great sail over, perfect wind strength and a beautiful sunny day. My heat rash has finally cleared!!! I can actually be in the sun without feeling like I'm going to scratch my skin off. Now I am still dealing with about 8 mosquito bites on my feet which are lasting longer than I would have hoped. But still yay! We arrived in Velas and checked in. I really like the harbour master here in Velas. He's a cheerful guy, very nice and speaks very good English. He's always smiling and helpful. It makes our experience so much more enjoyable. I think It's my favourite place so far. Anyways he reiterated the festivities that we heard about and we went out that evening. Thy were doing a cultural song and dance performance in traditional clothing. It reminded me of folklorama. But folklorama is pg rated. These guys know how to party. A row of beer shacks, selling sangria, beer and shots for €1. Everyone has a drink in their hand as they wander through the streets. We went to the "Bamboo Bar" and I had a real caipirinha, not the watered down stuff I've had at folklorama. This drink tasted like tequila and was strong. I only needed one haha. As we were walking around we saw all these pieces of paper scattering the road. They were little blank white squares. We came upon a Dutch woman who explained that you buy 50 rolled up papers for 1€ and then unroll them hoping to win a prize. They do it as a fundraiser for local groups like the church choir and other things like that. Such a cool idea, although I'm not big on the littering. Like everyone throws their garbage on the ground and in the water. It actually kills me to see it. Even in the harbour, they are throwing cigarette butts left right and centre. And smoking is so popular here, so there's a lot of butts. But It was still a great night. We retired early compared to everyone else who i could hear still going around 3 AM when I woke up. Friday we went for an awesome hike up the island. Sao Jorge is one of the most beautiful places I've ever seen. We walked up the steep roads and got the best views down toward the water. Wow. I took a picture of Mike and I and couldn't believe how tanned my face was. I posted a comparison of us from 2 months ago almost exactly...wow! My face is so brown. I love it. I wear 60 on my face all day but that sun is strong. Anyways we made it up to the big grocery store that we didn't know was there. They had a lot better fruit selection then we were able to get in Horta before we left. I got more peaches and my red plums. And huge red peppers. Like 2-3 times the size of the ones we have at home. And they are so cheap. It's so cheap I love it. I just want to have a fridge full of fruit and veggies. Yum yum. We made our way down back to Velas, down the steepest road I've ever seen. A road that cars actually go up and down. It was bloody steep as Mike would say. That night we got to see some live music. A group of about 5 guys and they all sang. They were great. Again we called it a night before everyone else. I guess we are not partyers like the Portuguese. Saturday July 8. We see the start of the SUP race that is from Sao Jorge to Pico Island. Probably about 10 miles. What a crazy distance. They had a couple escorts in motor boats in case anyone needed help. The wind was crazy gusty and our anchor had dragged a bit. Then some guys came out and told us they were setting up for a jet ski race and we needed to move the boat for a few hours. Mike and I probably lifted anchor like 6 times on Saturday. We had a hell of a time getting a good bite in a spot that was out of the way with the crazy wind. It was a pretty exhausting day and we weren't able to get on land all day. Finally after the competition was over we moved into our final spot and dropped anchor for the last time that day. Then I remembered that they were doing a bull run at 6 PM. it was now 7:30. I felt bad that we missed it because I knew Mike really wanted to see it. That was the whole reason we were coming to Velas this weekend in the first place, before we found out it was a festival weekend. We went to the centre of the festivities and watched a parade of nice old cars, and then motorcycles and then quads. It was loud but good. Then a marching band came through and we chomped down hamburgers from one of the food trucks. Oh it was so good. We came back to the boat and I heard the party going all night. Today was another sunny hot day. The wind wasn't as bad thank goodness. We went for a nice walk to the beach area and got a few nice pics. We came back to the boat pretty soon and hung out. Mike went to spear us a fish because we had yet to catch a fish for us to eat. Even though we ran a line all the way across the ocean and I fished in Nova Scotia. I did catch a tiny thing in Horta about a week ago but we threw it back and stopped fishing because we were just catching the same little guys. He did spear us a nice junk of a fish, and he put it on the rocks for a minute while he went back into the water. Well not two seconds later a bird came and stole his catch. Haha bad luck. I picked Mike up in the dinghy and rowed is back to the boat. Then we had cucumber, cheese and mayo sandwiches, since we had no fish haha. We were just hanging out when I noticed a lot of people were gathered on the pier. It wasn't the bull run, but it was a bull fight. Mike and I rowed over and had a great view from the water, along with a bunch of other boats. 4 bulls in total. The first and the last one were the best. They would chase people toward the edge and the people would jump off the pier into the water to dodge the horns. The more people that had to jump the louder the crowd cheered. They were trying to get the bull to run in the water and they almost got one of them, but it managed to keep its footing on the edge. I'm glad none of them ended up in the water. I felt bad for the bulls already and that would have been worse. But the crowd enjoyed the show and it was nice to partake in the festivities. Although, I really don't get the point. Clearly a macho guy thing haha. We enjoyed seeing the bulls nonetheless and I was happy Mike got to see his bulls lol. This evening we have had major progress! We caught our first meal! Haha. Mike pried off a few limpids off the rocks and we used heir meat as bait. We ran our two fishing lines off the dinghy while one of us rowed. I caught one of the cute blue and yellow fish and we let him go right away. They are small skinny fish. Then Mike caught a flat bony fish and we let that go too. I figured we would just end up catching and releasing because we were having no luck. Mike caught a small silver fish and let it go. Then he caught a nice size brown fish. This was a keeper! I was getting no bites while Mike kept getting strikes. He caught another silver fish and this time we kept him. I'm glad we did because I think the silver one had more flavour then the brown one. But the brown one had a lot more meat. Before we finished I had caught 2 brown and one silver and mike had 1 of each. We had 5 fish for supper. Mike gutted them while I prepared a sauce to coat them in before BBQing. I started the rice and we finally had our first free meal! It was delicious! Like I said I enjoyed the smaller silver fish more. But the brown guys had a nice chunk of meat on them. I think we both feel very accomplished and satisfied. The more fish we can catch and eat the better. Meat is cheap here but it's not free compared to the fish. Anyways it's the wind down of the festival and we are heading back to Horta tomorrow to pick up our next guest. A family of 4 from Belgium. These guys were our second booking and I think we are going to have a great time with them. They want to do some sailing which means a little extra cash in the pocket. I might even be able to sell a couple keychains or bracelets since there are two kids 11 and 13. It all adds up. We have had our hot chocolate night cap and are off to bed. Loving these islands more and more everyday. The more familiar we become with them the more I enjoy it. Knowing where the best fruit or baked goods are. It's a nice insider feeling. It's been a month since we've left Nova Scotia and I'm not looking back haha. I'm staying with the sunshine as long as possible. Don't forget to follow our Facebook Page at Coconut Seaways and our Instagram @coconut_seaways.

Now (Trixya) - Clutterbuck

Katya’s eyes flickered to the nightstand clock again–the third time in ten minutes–as she shook out her hands to try to and bring back some blood flow. It wasn’t working.

Sometimes she felt like her nerves were closer to the surface of her skin than other peoples’, or that her brain sent messages with more force than necessary. Life was raw for Katya. It always had been. There was a time when she thought she would grow out of it and toughen up, but her sensitivity only came into sharper focus as she got older. When she found something beautiful or interesting or funny, it could send her soaring through the day. On the other hand, the pain and injustice in the world was sometimes too much to process. It didn’t just translate to angry retweets for her; it kept her up at night. She could never read or learn enough. She made mental connections so quickly and creatively that people struggled to keep up with her in conversation. It didn’t frustrate her–she had almost no capacity to feel spiteful toward other people–but it did leave her feeling lonely more often than not.

With her travel schedule being as packed as it was these days, she spent most nights chatting with friends and fans after shows about the music, the looks of the night, the other queens. Without meaning to, she always searched their eyes for something else. Sometimes those conversations led to sex, which was the only thing that felt honest enough to lean into. She could give that. She could connect there. She could funnel all of the different pieces of herself, the things she didn’t have words for, into that act. She was kind and responsible to the smallest detail when it came to sex, which protected her partners from getting hurt or feeling used.

It was a life. She managed. She had her art, which kept her busy and inspired most days. She was making so much money that she couldn’t even remember the feeling of being broke.

There was a heaviness underneath it all, but she was equipped to deal with it. She knew when to surround herself with people and when to go hiking alone. She no longer asked herself what the point of everything was, and she was determined to never unload a single ounce of the weight she carried onto someone else.

But then there was Trixie.

It was filming day for season two of Unhhh, and Trixie came back from their ten-minute break in a daze. She settled onto her chair as an assistant fidgeted with Katya’s mic, gazing intently at her phone screen and compulsively bouncing one knee. She didn’t notice how loudly her stiletto was clacking against the floor until Katya bubbled up with laughter and started swatting at her foot with a paper fan.

“Girl. Where’d you go??”

Trixie looked up, though not exactly at Katya, and turned her phone screen towards her. There was a glare, so Katya took it in her hands to get a better view. She recognized it immediately as a series of texts from the younger queen’s boyfriend:

J: So theoretically…what would you look for in a boy ring?

J: Forget I texted that. This is not a text conversation. I’m just in front of this window downtown and this thing caught my eye.

J: I’ve been thinking a lot about that movie we watched the other night. About diving in, and how life is short. Can’t wait to see you tonight.

Katya kept her eyes on the phone, face locked, as the assistant finished up with the mic and Ron began to speak:

“Okay guys, I think we’ve got pretty much everything we need. Can we just finish up with a little more of the football stuff?”

They’d been filming a sports-themed episode that day, among several others, and Trixie had started a story right before the break about playing pee-wee football as a child. It had everyone on the set doubled over with laughter, but Trixie asked for a break so that she could try and remember the exact sequence of events before telling it.

She had great comedic instincts, but she was also a perfectionist. Katya had never known someone quite so driven. In the three years since she’d met other queen, Trixie had achieved nearly every goal she set for herself. Fitness journey, check. Country album, check. Katya knew she would land on All Stars 3, and she believed whole-heartedly that she could win it. Her mind flashed back to the last time they’d sat in these chairs for filming, when Trixie had talked about becoming husband material in 2017 and locking down that part of her life. It felt abstract back then–maybe because the idea of settling down, especially as young as she was, was so foreign to Katya. But it was suddenly the most obvious thing in the world. A soft ringing started in her ears, and she felt cold in spite of the bright studio lights.

When she made the decision to look up at Trixie, it was with a huge grin. She thrust the phone back towards her and willed the next words to leave her mouth.

“You cunt! You know I don’t get it, but get yourself that white picket fence, mama.”

She watched a small smile creep onto Trixie’s face.

“It’s totally ridiculous, right? Like, it’s been four months?”

Katya could hear the giddy note in her voice. She knew it like the back of her hand. And she knew what Trixie needed from her, so she squeezed her arm and dropped from Katya into Brian mode for a moment.

“I’m happy for you.”

The next half hour was a blur. Trixie told the pee-wee story, and Katya listened. She could get away with being a little more subdued than normal since it was the end of the day and everyone was exhausted, but she still managed to laugh at all the right moments. It felt wrong to fake something that normally came so easily, but it wasn’t difficult. She wished it was more difficult.

She wished it was more difficult to avoid de-dragging with Trixie once they wrapped. She made up an excuse about needing to figure out a paperwork detail in the WOW offices upstairs and then let everyone know that she’d lock up the studio if they had left by the time she was back. She walked up through the main building and out onto the back parking lot for a cigarette. She noticed her hands shaking as she lit it, and she reminded herself to take deep breaths and feel her feet on the ground. She stood there for a few minutes, smoking and noticing the breeze on her face and a blinking neon sign across the street. Without warning, her brain flashed to the vape pen she’d halfheartedly bought a couple of months earlier to try and quit smoking. She remembered Trixie’s face light up the first time she saw it, and how she found little ways to encourage her in the pursuit each time she saw her. By the time she took her last drag, she felt tears rolling down her cheeks. She knew better than to fight it, so she waited it out and promised herself that this would be the only time.

The next two weeks sent their fans into a tailspin. Katya decided to double down on the public Trixya declarations, wrapping up their storyline and cashing in on years of tension. She pined over Trixie, Trixie wouldn’t have any of it, they were still the best of friends. That was the story, and that was the foundation she needed to set to protect herself for whatever was going to happen next. They hadn’t spoken in real life since filming, one of the longest stretches they’d ever gone without contact. Trixie had sent a text that night:

T: Are we good? I waited for a while downstairs. Wanna get dinner?

K: Duh. And I would, but I’m exhausted. I forgot about some weird thing in my contract, so I have to come back to WOW tomorrow morning and figure it out with legal.

T: Okay, well let me know if you want to go to Laila’s show with me and Courtney this weekend. Season Two is going to be sickening YASS MAMA BOOTS THE HOUSE DOWN.

K: Mother, we’re breakaway staaaars again.

T: You’re done.

When the Valentine’s Day video surfaced of Katya discussing her onstage at the gig, Trixie didn’t reach out. She never did. That was understood. Katya pushed it further at the next gig, for reasons she couldn’t explain. Nothing. But when she got in touch with Milk to get face to face with Trixie at their hotel in Syracuse for the benefit show, she had never felt more sure of something in her life.

10:38. It was a college show, and Milk guessed that they’d be back by 11. She would wait.

25th August 2019

Okay, so camp has been done for 2 weeks now (thank freaking goodness) and in those 2 weeks I have been to Bangor, Nashville and New Orleans.

I feel like Bangor was a good place to start because I had my own private hotel room and slept a lot of the time and got to relax and debrief and recuperate after the exhaustion of camp, I think I slept for 11 or 12 hours the first night I arrived, and slept for at least 10 hours the other 2 nights. Camp just really took it out of me. Working 16 hour days, 6 days a week with 1 day off is NOT enough rest and it is being completely overworked. I hated camp, for the most part and I was very happy when it was finally the last day and the kids went home and then we got to leave at 5 and say goodbye to Chipinaw forever. The only parts I really liked about camp were the days off and Colour War breakout. But at least I had the experience, I won't wonder what if and I can say that I worked at a summer camp in the US.

In Bangor, it felt weird to have my freedom back, but I mainly (Maine-ly?) slept and apart from sleeping I went to the supermarket the first day, walking 45 mins both ways to buy some food. There was a part of the walk that did not have a footpath, so I was walking as close to the edge of the shoulder of the road as I could because that was a bit scary, but that section did not last long which was good. The second day, I walked around and looked at Stephen King stuff, I saw his house, which had a few other people rocking up at the same time to look. I also saw a bunch of places from IT, like the sewer that inspired the Georgie scene, the Standpipe, the Barrens and the Canals. It was really cool to be in Bangor because it looked like what I would expect IT and Carrie to look like.

Then I flew to Nashville, and had some of the best nights out. Nashville is a party city. There were pedal taverns going around blasting music with people singing and cheering the whole time. I went to a couple of museums but I find it hard to take in everything they have at museums so I skipped one or two that I was going to look at. They are also expensive, so that means I saved money. My nights out were with people from my hostel, and they were really fun. We went out on Broadway and there were so many people out, every bar had a live band, it's a really cool place. I also really liked the hostel, it was really chill and everyone was friendly.

Then I flew to New Orleans, which was an ordeal, I got up at 5.20am that morning (20th August) and caught the bus to the airport. Because I'm trying to save money, I'm catching the bus to the airport where it's safe and where possible because Uber is very expensive and the bus usually you can get there and only pay a few dollars. It's just annoying to have to carry all of your luggage around on the bus, but when I've caught the bus, it usually hasn't been too busy so that's been okay. This guy on the bus that morning was chatting with everyone and asking me my name and where I'm travelling with all these bags. I didn't really like the attention because I'm trying to keep to myself on public transport, because I don't want people to know I'm not from there, but I guess I look like a tourist with 3 bags anyway. He got off shortly thereafter, so I didn't have to be interviewed for too long. I got to the airport and my flights were chill. My first flight, the plane had a 2-3 configuration of seats and I was in the middle seat of the 3. They had air purifiers on the plane and they were on full blast and dripping on me. So that wasn't too fun and the guy next to me was like swearing about it which was kinda awkward. Then that plane landed and I was in Atlanta airport for my layover. I found a McDonalds to get some hashbrowns because I hadn't eaten breakfast yet and this guy in the line sounded exactly like Forrest Gump which was pretty unreal. That plane was a nice plane, it was a 757 and it had screens and charging ports on the seats, so I could plug in my phone and ipod and charge them during the flight which was convenient. I was allocated the last row aisle seat, and I didn't have anyone in the seat next to me, so that was nice.

When I got to New Orleans, it was difficult to figure out where to go to catch the bus to my hostel, because the bus stop was not marked incredibly well. I had to ask 2 people where to go. When I got there, the bus came shortly after and I caught it into town and then I had to catch a streetcar (tram) from that stop to my hostel. The streetcars in New Orleans are really cool, they have wooden seats and kinda remind me of the old City Circle tram in Melbourne. They are painted red and yellow. New Orleans is a really cool city. All of the houses are painted different colours and are Spanish colonial architecture. I learned a lot of the history of the city while I was there doing a few tours. The reason why the buildings are Spanish colonial and not French colonial is because originally they were French colonial, but then there was a fire, and 85% of the city burned down, because the French colonial buildings are made mainly of wood. This happened when the city was under Spanish rule, and so they built it back in Spanish colonial design which is less flammable. But there are still two or three buildings that survived the fire and are in French colonial design which is cool. In the French quarter, there is live jazz music everywhere you go on the streets, there are also a lot of voodoo shops and tarot card/psychic readers. I went on a cemetery tour of Lafayette Cemetery No. 1 and the cemeteries are above ground tombs, they look really cool. The guide taught us about how the cemeteries work and what things mean. On that tour we also did a tour of the Garden District and saw houses owned by John Goodman and Sandra Bullock. I also did a walking tour of the French Quarter which I enjoyed, a Jazz tour, which was more about drinking and chatting than the bands, a swamp and plantation tour, and a ghost tour. 

The swamp and plantation tour was pretty cool. It was a sugar cane plantation and the area was actually really pretty. The tour was more about the family that lived there rather than the slaves and what they went through which I didn't really like. But then we got to see the slave quarters and the school and we got to learn about a revolt that happened there as well. The swamp tour was really cool, I saw lots of alligators, saw some turtles, racoons, birds and a spider. There were a lot of small alligators and a few big ones. The boat driver got out on this side step and fed the alligators from a stick and they jumped out of the water to get the food which was cool. He fed them meat and marshmellows. I didn't realise that alligators really like marshmellows, but apparently it's a thing.

Jackson Square and Frenchmen Street were really cool as well as the French Market which I checked out today. The thing I love about New Orleans apart from the colourful houses, is how almost everywhere you go you hear live music. The city is really something else. Also open alcohol is okay in the French Quarter, so I walked down the street with a Strawberita the other night and didn't have to be worried about being fined.

Today when I was leaving to go to the airport, I had to catch 2 separate buses to get to the airport bus, and because the buses are always really late here, I was worried I might miss the airport bus because it's run by a different company and is on time. But luckily I made it with a few minutes to spare. And when I got to the airport, it was really quiet and I got through security really quickly as well. So everything worked out well. I bought some food at a restaurant and then I've just been sitting at my gate charging my phone. They made an announcement asking for volunteers to check their carry on bag all the way to their final destination, which is what I'm doing since I have a little suitcase with me now, I can check my big bag at baggage drop and then if they need volunteers, I can check my little suitcase at the gate all the way  to my final destination. That way I don't have to carry it around and fight for a spot in the overhead compartment.

I'm flying to Las Vegas via Atlanta, so I actually fly backwards to Atlanta from New Orleans. On my first flight I have an aisle seat (luck of the draw) and on my second flight it says that my seat will be assigned at the gate again. Last time it appeared on the Delta app when I landed in Atlanta, so hopefully it does that again. Either way it will be on the screen at my next gate and I'll get a new boarding pass with a seat assignment when boarding my connecting flight in Atlanta. 

I'm becoming such a confident traveller now. I've caught public transport around in 2 different cities successfully and I know how the whole check in, bag drop and gate checking bags works. I feel like this trip has taught me how to be very self sufficient and rely on my own judgement and make decisions as well as planning everything. 

In Las Vegas, I will not be gambling or partying. The actual reason I'm stopping there is because I wanted to see the Grand Canyon and Las Vegas is where all the tours leave from. I don't have any time to even go out at night even if I wanted to, because I arrive late at night, then I have to go to bed early the next night to get up early the next morning to see the Grand Canyon and then I have to go to bed reasonably early that night because I fly out the next morning to fly to Texas. 

I'm catching up with one of my camp friends in Austin, which I'm really excited about because she was my best friend at camp, so I'm really excited to catch up with her again. :) She's from Houston, so she's going to drive across. Then I fly up to Anchorage, which was probably a silly place to book to go to without hiring a car, but I'm working out some hikes I can do around Anchorage, so I'm sure I'll still have a good time.