It's been a few weeks now since Simon and I began the process of selling all our furniture. We're not moving into our new apartment until the end of September, and admittedly, starting the selling process in June probably was a bit rash. But you just never know how long it's going to take to sell your stuff. The market is fickle, it's saturated with giveaways, and odds are good that items that caught my eye might not hold the same appeal for someone else.
I keep telling myself that all these things are just that...things. They can be replaced if need be, although seeing as we're moving from a 1700 square foot home to a 580 square foot apartment, there are very few things that we now own that will actually fit in the new apartment. Being a human being, I enjoy things. I especially enjoy things that have a story. When I owned my first house in Minnesota, I did what most other people do and I went to a furniture store and basically bought every single piece of furniture for my house in one trip. I wandered around the showroom, sat at multiple tables, bounced on multiple beds, laid on multiple couches...until I found the ones that I thought would do. I opened a big line of credit, and a few weeks later, all my furnishings were delivered on the same truck. Super easy, minimal effort, but none of my furnishings were all that terribly interesting.
This time around, I wanted to do things differently. For one, I didn't want to spend a lot of money furnishing our home. A $50 desk makes just as good a computer stand as a $500 desk. An ugly, beat up $10 dresser from the Goodwill could easily be refinished and repainted to look brand new. And not only brand new, but also one-of-a-kind. We drove all over the Flagstaff area picking up odds and ends from various thrift stores, consignment shops, and craigslist sellers. By the time we were done collecting our new-to-us furniture, we had quite the collection of misfits. We took a trip to Home Depot to buy some cheap cans of paint off the Oops table, bought a hand-held sander, and committed ourselves to customizing our furniture. Simon and I spent multiple evenings out in the garage sanding and painting our dressers, end tables, book shelves, and even the top of a dining room table. We went to World Market and purchased a bunch of whimsical knobs. I'm not ashamed to admit that when all was said and done, we had some really cute furnishings. And we did it all very cheaply. And it was fun to be able to look around the house and see the work that Simon and I put into our home. Each little table and desk and dresser represented time that we had spent together, doing something new, making something our own.
And then...a year and a half later, here we are...selling all of it. It's not that I have any specific emotional attachment to these items, but I really did like them, and their absence is palpable. I no longer sit at my cute little brown desk to write my blogs...it went to a new home this afternoon. I'm out in the kitchen at the breakfast bar, taking up valuable counter space that Simon will not approve of (he's very territorial of the counter space). Our kitchen chairs and 3 of our 5 barstools are in the back of the Jeep, waiting to be delivered to their new owner on Tuesday, while our kitchen table sits alone in the dining area, covered with odds and ends that were hurriedly taken off the bookshelves as people came to haul them away. Thank goodness I had the foresight to hold back 2 of the barstools, or we'd have nowhere to sit! I find myself wishing that I could keep some of these things, but know that that's just silly. We've decided that we're going to live small, and living small doesn't include owning enough things to furnish a 3-bedroom house.
They are just things. I have to keep telling myself that when I get sad thinking about my cute little green dresser, or my little blue end table, or my pretty vintage coffee table...all being enjoyed in new homes. Someday I'll have a home again, and I'll furnish it once again with cute little things from here, there, and everywhere. I think the bigger picture is that moving is just hard...the longer you stay, the harder it is to go. You get used to being in one place, and then you have to move to another place, and everything that was once familiar is foreign again. After 8 years of travel nursing, I guess you could say that I moved for a living...this should be old news to someone like me. But each place I live has its charm, and it's always hard to see that charm stripped away when the time has come to move on. I don't like bare walls, or empty rooms, or spaces without purpose. It's alienating and cold and lonely. As we sell our things and embark on downsizing, we're turning our home into a big, blank space. And it doesn't feel right. But this is all part of the process. This too, shall pass, as they say.
I look around the house and there is still so much to do. It's overwhelming at times. It's amazing the amount of stuff you accumulate when you stay in one place for any length of time. We haven't even been here two years and I'm astounded by all we have. Some days I just want to load it all up and haul it off to the thrift store, but I know there's value in some of it and it would irresponsible to just toss it away without at least trying to get something out of my initial efforts. So I toil on a slow pace, the Goodwill box getting more and more full, the ebay auctions added to intermittently, the craigslist postings updated willy nilly. Honestly, it's probably a good thing that we started this process in June, because I just don't know how we would finish it by September.
Bah. I should be doing stuff and not blogging. But I needed the time to quiet my mind. Back to the grindstone, as they say. Who is this "they," anyway? They sure seem to have a lot of vague, generalized statements that conveniently seem to fit just about any situation.
Sunday, July 12, 2015
Thursday, July 9, 2015
The Period Blog: Part 2
Before you all start getting your panties in a bunch, this is not going to be a monthly feature...unless you'd like it to be! A few people had actually expressed interest in hearing how the whole menstrual cup thing was going, and it's easiest for me to just type it out here and have all the info in one place. So there you go. You've been warned about the subject matter. If you don't want to read about periods, feel free to stop reading. For the rest of you still reading along, here we go.
So, as you know from my previous Period Blog, I had purchased a Diva Cup and some reusable panty liners in the interest of creating less waste and to keep from potentially exposing myself to the chemicals used in traditional tampons and panty liners. I've had 2 period's worth of time to try them out, and here are my initial reviews.
The Diva Cup: While I think the Diva is a great product, I don't know that it's the right product for me. Do a search for menstrual cups, and you'll find a plethora of products, not to mention about a million reviews for each one either singing their praises or condemning them for the rest of our known existence. It was really hard to make the initial decision as to which cup to purchase, and since I already knew someone who used the Diva, I went with that one. So the Diva comes in 2 sizes. Size 1 is for women under 30 and/or women who have not yet given birth. Size 2 is for women over 30 and/or women who have given birth. Basically, Size 1 is smaller, Size 2 is bigger. Outside of the age/birth qualifiers, there's very little information from the manufacturer as to which size might be appropriate for a 35 year-old who has not yet given birth. Technically, both sizes seemed like they could fit the bill for me. I went with Size 1, mostly because there were several reviews from women on Amazon who were in their 30's and who had not yet given birth who were overwhelmed by the size of Size 2.
I never did quite get the hang of it. I mean, I got it in, and for all intents and purposes, it worked okay. But it leaked, which is a very common problem with menstrual cups. Most often, the reason for the leaking is improper insertion. Let me tell you, getting one of these contraptions "properly inserted" is the hardest part about using them. You have to fold the thing over on itself, shove it up your vagina, and hope that the thing pops open. Seriously, it's supposed to pop open. Several women reviewers stated that they could actually feel the Diva popping open inside them. I never felt it pop. The way the Diva works (and all menstrual cups, really), is they have tiny little holes in the side up near the top that are supposed to create suction once the cup pops open. If the cup isn't popped open, the holes can't create suction, and then you have leaking. Pretty simple concept. Execution is much more difficult. I did all manners of bearing down, kegels, stretching...you name it, trying to get that thing to open up. I think sometimes it did, sometimes it didn't. I think part of the problem for me with the Diva is that I should have gone with the bigger Size 2, or I should have gone with a cup that was made of a firmer silicone.
In reading reviews and watching videos on multiple cups, they come in varying degrees of softness (I wanted to use the word rigidity, since I think that's more appropriate a term, but I don't think any of us want to think about shoving rigid things up there...although some people are into that...no judgements). During my research I'd come to the conclusion that the Diva was just too soft for me, and elected to try out another cup called the Yuuki ($17.99 on Amazon). Why didn't I just try Size 2 of the Diva? I figured that the Size 2 was probably just as soft as the Size 1, and if softness was the underlying issue, going to the bigger cup wasn't going to solve the problem. I figured that trying something completely different might give me an idea of where to go next should the second, different cup give me the same issues. Be warned, the Yuuki comes in both Soft and Classic, Large and Small. Sounds like the Classic is very rigid and difficult to insert, so you might want to avoid that one if you're considering this cup. In a side by side comparison, the Large Yuuki is bigger (can hold about 30ml/1 ounce) and has less softness than the Diva Step 1 (holds about 15ml/one-half ounce).
So far, the Yuuki is working much better for me. I actually jumped into it with both feet (figuratively, of course) this morning by putting it in for the first time and then proceeded to go paddle boarding with Simon for two hours. Think of it as the maiden voyage, if you will. I had the Yuuki in for about 4 hours with no issues. Granted, I didn't actually get in the water...one step at a time with these things, my friends. Maybe next time. My periods are typically very heavy on days 1 and 2, so four hours with a cup lasted me about 2 hours longer than a super-plus tampon would have. I considered that a win. The only issues I have with the Yuuki is that because it's a more rigid silicone, it's a little more painful to put in, so I have a handy little tube of lube in the bathroom to assist with that process. It's not as awful as it sounds, really, and it makes the whole insertion go so much easier. Make sure if you go the lube route that you get water-based...oil based can damage the silicone. I'm so glad for the little British chick and her videos for suggesting that. The second issue I have is that the Yuuki's suction is far stronger than the Diva's, so when I'm taking it out, I sometimes feel like my uterus is coming along with it. Which, let's be honest, if I could actually remove my uterus with a menstrual cup, I would. Unfortunately, just feeling like I'm pulling my uterus out is borderline unpleasant. But not so unpleasant that I'm going to give up on the whole thing. Today is day 1, and I'm impressed with the Yuuki's performance thus far. Time will tell.
I even did the dreaded change-out in a public restroom today...lots of firsts with this Yuuki. I did have some tampons along for back-up in the event that things went awry, but I really wanted to try to do the public restroom thing because I eventually want to use a cup full time, and I need to comfortable with using it in public. It wasn't great, and I expected that...but it wasn't horrible either. Multiple people came and went while I struggled in the stall with it. And, given that I was in a stall and not a one-seater, I didn't have the option to wash it out before putting it back in, so I wiped it out with some toilet paper and called it good. The nice thing about slippery silicone is that not much sticks to it, so the wipe-down wasn't that big of a deal. Obviously, this isn't an ideal situation and you should always wash the cup out whenever possible before putting it back in, but once in a while the random wipe-out will suffice as long as you're able to wash it out the next time. The little British chick actually recommends bringing along 2 cups when you're going to be out in public, so that you can use one, toss it in a baggie once you're done with it, and insert the clean one for the rest of the day/evening, or until you get to a place where you're comfortable washing them out. If the Yuuki continues to work as well as it is, I might buy another one. I'm wondering if I should try the smaller size for the lighter days, as the big cup is probably overkill. But it would be nice to have 2 big ones for the heavy days if I'm out and about. I suppose I could just keep the little Diva and use that one on the light days. Lots of options here.
It's unfortunate that due to the nature of these products, they're not returnable or exchangeable unless they are defective. I get it, but it makes for a somewhat expensive trial and error process. At this point I've spent about 3 months worth of tampon money on 2 menstrual cups. Assuming that I stick with them and get them to work for me full-time, I'll make that money up eventually, but it is a little expensive up front. I do have to add in the cost of all the waste generated by traditional menstrual products...while the cost of the disposal of those products doesn't come directly out of my pocket, it is creating additional waste that ends up in landfills...so there's the environmental cost to offset the financial cost as well.
As for the reusable panty liners...meh, I'm not super impressed, and it probably has more to do with the ones I chose rather than the concept of them in general. The ones I got are called Heartfelt Bamboo panty liners (about $28 for 5 on Amazon...they come in multiple sizes), and they have a grey absorbent crotch area and patterned wings that snap under the crotch of your underpants. Good in theory. In reality, the fabric of the wings is so slippery and wide that the things end up slipping halfway up my butt before I've walked more than 15 steps. If I had an office job or a sedentary lifestyle where I didn't have to move all that much, these things would be great. Given that I'm a nurse and a pretty active person, they just don't cut the mustard. I did read some reviews from women who use a safety pin to keep them in place, but I just don't have the patience to mess with that. These products are supposed to make this process the same, if not easier, not more time consuming. I'm keeping them to wear for sleeping at night. The little British chick recommended some liners from Essence of Eve, which are available on Etsy. There is also a Facebook page for them that lets you know when there is new stock...apparently they sell out rather quickly because I just checked the store and there are none available right this moment. The little British chick liked them and said that they stayed in place better than any of the others that she had tried. They come in various colors, styles, and price ranges. I might get around to buying some one of these days...when I can actually catch them when they're in stock.
So, there it is. Month 2 with my new-fangled menstrual products. The learning process continues.
Things to take away from my experience:
1. You will get blood on your hands. I can't stress that enough. If you are squeamish at all about this, menstrual cups might not be for you. Granted, we can all wash our hands, but I get that for some people this is a mental acceptance thing. I still struggle with it sometimes, but it's getting better. Unless you are some sort of menstrual cup savant, your first few times inserting and removing the cup will be messy. Be prepared. Make sure you're in the comfort of your own home...set yourself up for success whenever possible.
2. You might not find the right cup the first time around. I know of a few people now who have used the Diva from the get-go and have had nothing but good results. It might work for you, it might not. Figuring that out is all part of this.
3. Read reviews, watch videos, do as much research as you can. Seeing as we grew up in a world where traditional tampons and pads were the only options, using a menstrual cup is going to feel like a very foreign process. Stick with it. If you're still not having it, go back to tampons. This is a completely personal choice, and the only person making the final decision on it is you.
So, as you know from my previous Period Blog, I had purchased a Diva Cup and some reusable panty liners in the interest of creating less waste and to keep from potentially exposing myself to the chemicals used in traditional tampons and panty liners. I've had 2 period's worth of time to try them out, and here are my initial reviews.
The Diva Cup: While I think the Diva is a great product, I don't know that it's the right product for me. Do a search for menstrual cups, and you'll find a plethora of products, not to mention about a million reviews for each one either singing their praises or condemning them for the rest of our known existence. It was really hard to make the initial decision as to which cup to purchase, and since I already knew someone who used the Diva, I went with that one. So the Diva comes in 2 sizes. Size 1 is for women under 30 and/or women who have not yet given birth. Size 2 is for women over 30 and/or women who have given birth. Basically, Size 1 is smaller, Size 2 is bigger. Outside of the age/birth qualifiers, there's very little information from the manufacturer as to which size might be appropriate for a 35 year-old who has not yet given birth. Technically, both sizes seemed like they could fit the bill for me. I went with Size 1, mostly because there were several reviews from women on Amazon who were in their 30's and who had not yet given birth who were overwhelmed by the size of Size 2.
I never did quite get the hang of it. I mean, I got it in, and for all intents and purposes, it worked okay. But it leaked, which is a very common problem with menstrual cups. Most often, the reason for the leaking is improper insertion. Let me tell you, getting one of these contraptions "properly inserted" is the hardest part about using them. You have to fold the thing over on itself, shove it up your vagina, and hope that the thing pops open. Seriously, it's supposed to pop open. Several women reviewers stated that they could actually feel the Diva popping open inside them. I never felt it pop. The way the Diva works (and all menstrual cups, really), is they have tiny little holes in the side up near the top that are supposed to create suction once the cup pops open. If the cup isn't popped open, the holes can't create suction, and then you have leaking. Pretty simple concept. Execution is much more difficult. I did all manners of bearing down, kegels, stretching...you name it, trying to get that thing to open up. I think sometimes it did, sometimes it didn't. I think part of the problem for me with the Diva is that I should have gone with the bigger Size 2, or I should have gone with a cup that was made of a firmer silicone.
In reading reviews and watching videos on multiple cups, they come in varying degrees of softness (I wanted to use the word rigidity, since I think that's more appropriate a term, but I don't think any of us want to think about shoving rigid things up there...although some people are into that...no judgements). During my research I'd come to the conclusion that the Diva was just too soft for me, and elected to try out another cup called the Yuuki ($17.99 on Amazon). Why didn't I just try Size 2 of the Diva? I figured that the Size 2 was probably just as soft as the Size 1, and if softness was the underlying issue, going to the bigger cup wasn't going to solve the problem. I figured that trying something completely different might give me an idea of where to go next should the second, different cup give me the same issues. Be warned, the Yuuki comes in both Soft and Classic, Large and Small. Sounds like the Classic is very rigid and difficult to insert, so you might want to avoid that one if you're considering this cup. In a side by side comparison, the Large Yuuki is bigger (can hold about 30ml/1 ounce) and has less softness than the Diva Step 1 (holds about 15ml/one-half ounce).
So far, the Yuuki is working much better for me. I actually jumped into it with both feet (figuratively, of course) this morning by putting it in for the first time and then proceeded to go paddle boarding with Simon for two hours. Think of it as the maiden voyage, if you will. I had the Yuuki in for about 4 hours with no issues. Granted, I didn't actually get in the water...one step at a time with these things, my friends. Maybe next time. My periods are typically very heavy on days 1 and 2, so four hours with a cup lasted me about 2 hours longer than a super-plus tampon would have. I considered that a win. The only issues I have with the Yuuki is that because it's a more rigid silicone, it's a little more painful to put in, so I have a handy little tube of lube in the bathroom to assist with that process. It's not as awful as it sounds, really, and it makes the whole insertion go so much easier. Make sure if you go the lube route that you get water-based...oil based can damage the silicone. I'm so glad for the little British chick and her videos for suggesting that. The second issue I have is that the Yuuki's suction is far stronger than the Diva's, so when I'm taking it out, I sometimes feel like my uterus is coming along with it. Which, let's be honest, if I could actually remove my uterus with a menstrual cup, I would. Unfortunately, just feeling like I'm pulling my uterus out is borderline unpleasant. But not so unpleasant that I'm going to give up on the whole thing. Today is day 1, and I'm impressed with the Yuuki's performance thus far. Time will tell.
I even did the dreaded change-out in a public restroom today...lots of firsts with this Yuuki. I did have some tampons along for back-up in the event that things went awry, but I really wanted to try to do the public restroom thing because I eventually want to use a cup full time, and I need to comfortable with using it in public. It wasn't great, and I expected that...but it wasn't horrible either. Multiple people came and went while I struggled in the stall with it. And, given that I was in a stall and not a one-seater, I didn't have the option to wash it out before putting it back in, so I wiped it out with some toilet paper and called it good. The nice thing about slippery silicone is that not much sticks to it, so the wipe-down wasn't that big of a deal. Obviously, this isn't an ideal situation and you should always wash the cup out whenever possible before putting it back in, but once in a while the random wipe-out will suffice as long as you're able to wash it out the next time. The little British chick actually recommends bringing along 2 cups when you're going to be out in public, so that you can use one, toss it in a baggie once you're done with it, and insert the clean one for the rest of the day/evening, or until you get to a place where you're comfortable washing them out. If the Yuuki continues to work as well as it is, I might buy another one. I'm wondering if I should try the smaller size for the lighter days, as the big cup is probably overkill. But it would be nice to have 2 big ones for the heavy days if I'm out and about. I suppose I could just keep the little Diva and use that one on the light days. Lots of options here.
It's unfortunate that due to the nature of these products, they're not returnable or exchangeable unless they are defective. I get it, but it makes for a somewhat expensive trial and error process. At this point I've spent about 3 months worth of tampon money on 2 menstrual cups. Assuming that I stick with them and get them to work for me full-time, I'll make that money up eventually, but it is a little expensive up front. I do have to add in the cost of all the waste generated by traditional menstrual products...while the cost of the disposal of those products doesn't come directly out of my pocket, it is creating additional waste that ends up in landfills...so there's the environmental cost to offset the financial cost as well.
As for the reusable panty liners...meh, I'm not super impressed, and it probably has more to do with the ones I chose rather than the concept of them in general. The ones I got are called Heartfelt Bamboo panty liners (about $28 for 5 on Amazon...they come in multiple sizes), and they have a grey absorbent crotch area and patterned wings that snap under the crotch of your underpants. Good in theory. In reality, the fabric of the wings is so slippery and wide that the things end up slipping halfway up my butt before I've walked more than 15 steps. If I had an office job or a sedentary lifestyle where I didn't have to move all that much, these things would be great. Given that I'm a nurse and a pretty active person, they just don't cut the mustard. I did read some reviews from women who use a safety pin to keep them in place, but I just don't have the patience to mess with that. These products are supposed to make this process the same, if not easier, not more time consuming. I'm keeping them to wear for sleeping at night. The little British chick recommended some liners from Essence of Eve, which are available on Etsy. There is also a Facebook page for them that lets you know when there is new stock...apparently they sell out rather quickly because I just checked the store and there are none available right this moment. The little British chick liked them and said that they stayed in place better than any of the others that she had tried. They come in various colors, styles, and price ranges. I might get around to buying some one of these days...when I can actually catch them when they're in stock.
So, there it is. Month 2 with my new-fangled menstrual products. The learning process continues.
Things to take away from my experience:
1. You will get blood on your hands. I can't stress that enough. If you are squeamish at all about this, menstrual cups might not be for you. Granted, we can all wash our hands, but I get that for some people this is a mental acceptance thing. I still struggle with it sometimes, but it's getting better. Unless you are some sort of menstrual cup savant, your first few times inserting and removing the cup will be messy. Be prepared. Make sure you're in the comfort of your own home...set yourself up for success whenever possible.
2. You might not find the right cup the first time around. I know of a few people now who have used the Diva from the get-go and have had nothing but good results. It might work for you, it might not. Figuring that out is all part of this.
3. Read reviews, watch videos, do as much research as you can. Seeing as we grew up in a world where traditional tampons and pads were the only options, using a menstrual cup is going to feel like a very foreign process. Stick with it. If you're still not having it, go back to tampons. This is a completely personal choice, and the only person making the final decision on it is you.
Wednesday, July 8, 2015
Don't Call Me A Quitter...Oh Wait...That's Exactly What I Am
So a few months ago a friend of mine approached Simon and I about doing to rim-to-rim hike in the Grand Canyon. Prior to moving to Arizona, I didn't really know much about the Grand Canyon. I knew it was there, obviously, and had visited it a few times prior to moving here, but the fact that people hiked not only to the bottom of it, but all the way to the other side, was something completely foreign to me.
The rim-to-rim hike is apparently something that people from all over the world place on their bucket lists. It's the thing to do to experience the Grand Canyon if you're more adventurous than the average tourist, who is content with merely standing at the edge, taking a good look, and then wandering into the gift shop to buy a magnet and t-shirt to commemorate the occasion. And I'm definitely not judging the look-and-shop Grand Canyon visitor, because by and large, that's what the Grand Canyon has been for me. Although I no longer buy t-shirts and since I already have a magnet, I just buy an ice cream cone instead. Yes, they have an ice cream shop at the Grand Canyon.
Doing a rim-to-rim hike is no small feat, and I had reservations about it from the beginning. In short, the total hike is about 26 miles, give or take a few...honestly, who keeps track after that many miles anyway? Not only is it 26 miles, but there are some significant elevation gains and losses going from top to bottom to top. The Grand Canyon is a mile deep. It's about 7 walking miles to traverse that one mile to the bottom. Which means it's about 7 miles back to the top once you've reached the bottom. Well, it's about 8 miles, technically, because the north rim of the Grand Canyon (where we would end) is about 1,000 feet higher than the south rim (where we would start). 8 miles of grueling switchbacks going up and up and up. So there's that.
Doing this hike requires that we carry with us anything that we might need on the hike. Supplies including, but not limited to: tent, sleeping bag, sleeping pad, food, water, clothing, cooking supplies, camera, toiletries, emergency supplies, etc. It doesn't sound like much, but it all adds up. Take into account that one liter of water weighs 2.2 pounds, and you're looking at close to 10 pounds in water alone, assuming that you're going to be carrying 4-5 liters, which is ideal and probably necessary for a long, active day in the sun.
And then there's the heat....oh boy, the heat. The Grand Canyon, at the bottom, can get up to 120 degrees in August, which is when we're planning our trip. I know it's a dry heat, and there is some merit in the dry heat, but 120 degrees is absolutely miserable, I don't care how dry the air is. I'm not a very heat tolerant person. I get very irritable when I get warm, especially when there is no easy way to cool off. If I'm warm at night, I can forget about getting a restful night's sleep. Spending a 120 degree day next to a lake where I can jump in and cool off is one thing, spending a 120 degree day at the bottom of a sweltering, dusty, canyon is quite another. Given that we will be doing the bulk of the hiking in the wee hours of the morning before the sun comes up, I wonder what we'll do the rest of the day when the sun is at its most relentless. Will there be shade? Will there be water to play in? Will there be an escape? Will I be lying there dumping my drinking water on myself in an effort to cool off?
So...Distance + Elevation + Pack + Heat = Uncertain Disaster for Stefanie. Fitness wise, I know I can do this. I can carry a pack, and I can pack it really light. I can hike a long way, and I can even hike uphill if I have to. The heat is the wild card. If anything is going to turn my attitude, it's going to be the heat. And the kicker? This isn't like a road race where I can just walk off the course and disqualify myself and go home if I'm not having it. Once I'm at the bottom of that canyon, I'm at the bottom, and the only way out is to hike my bad attitude out. Or, if my electrolytes get too funky, I can be taken out by helicopter, but I'd rather not go that way if I can avoid it. Hiking out with a bad attitude is actually preferable to that sort of helicopter ride....at least in theory.
I don't want to sound like this whiney, negative person, but I just don't know that I'm up for it. Don't get me wrong, I think it would be an amazing trip and it would definitely be a story to tell, but my heart's just not in it. And here's the very simple reason why. I don't like to struggle. It sounds silly to say that, because at the end of the day, who does like to struggle? The attitude that a normal person applies to struggling versus my attitude towards struggling is where the difference lies. I'm not one of those people who sees the merit in accomplishing something that requires a fair amount of struggling to get there. I applaud other people for struggling towards their goals, but I'd just rather not. If I embark on this trip and it's a constant struggle with the heat, with the distance, with the pack, with any adversity along the way, I'm going to hate it. And that hatred will not dissipate once the trip has ended. I will recall the trip in great detail, but with the memory that it was hard, it was painful, it was terrible, and that I had a bad attitude the whole time. I realize this is a personal problem and an obvious character flaw, but the fact that I'm aware of it has to count for something, right? I can choose my attitude most of the time, but there are times when it just gets the best of me.
I remember 7 years ago when Simon and I hiked down to Havasu Falls, also here in Arizona, in a canyon that eventually makes its way to the Grand Canyon. We went with Simon's sister Abby, and her friends Erica, Kristie, and Peppin. Despite the fact that it was a 10-mile hike to the campground, it was beautiful and it was fun and we went swimming everyday and played in the water and went on really cool hikes and we had ourselves a great time. But what is one of my strongest memories of that trip? The hike out...more specifically, the last bit of it which was all uphill, in the sun, in shoes that were eating away the skin on my heels and a pack that left bloody sores on my collarbones. The hike out began jovially enough, but by the time we were all exhausted and tired, conversation had stopped and we were just plodding our way along, slaves to the heavy packs on our backs and the sun beating down on us from above. The canyon walls which at the beginning of the trip were so beautiful and amazing had become oppressive and claustrophobic. I actually kind of hoped one of the mules from the mail train would run me over and end it all. The only conversation was Simon's sister intermittently asking what time it was. As we were nearing the end of the hike, on the terminal end of the brutal uphill climb, Abby asked once again what time it was, trying to determine how long it took us to hike out, and without missing a beat I said, "who fucking cares?" And I still feel bad about it. And how awful for them to be around someone with such a crappy attitude. It was an innocent, simple question, and I didn't even have the decency to, at the very least, not say anything at all.
It is that "who fucking cares" moment specifically that is giving me the most pause in relation to the rim-to-rim hike. I don't want to be like that, and I don't want anyone else to have to deal with me when I'm being like that. I know me better than anyone. I know my attitude when faced with adversity, and it's not pretty. It's not fun for me, and more importantly, it's definitely not fun for anyone else. Most people don't get it. There is merit in the struggle, I'll be so happy with the accomplishment when I'm done, it's a once-in-a-lifetime trip...these are all things that I've heard from people as I've been waffling back and forth between going and not going. I want to believe them, truly, I do. Some might wonder what the point is in my doing anything at all, given that life in general is varying degrees of struggling along the way. But therein lies the key...varying degrees of struggle allow me to gauge what will bring about success with a tolerable level of struggle. Struggling does not equal fun. At the end of the day, I guess I'd just rather not struggle unnecessarily.
Sometimes I think it would have been better had I not known anything about the hike, then I would have no choice but to suck it up and do it, not knowing any different. Sometimes knowledge is power, and sometimes it's a burden. Perhaps I'm overthinking this. Perhaps I'm not. Perhaps I should just go and if I have a meltdown, I have a meltdown. There's got to be places in the canyon where I can give myself a time out and take a nap, right? Maybe? Or perhaps I should just do myself and everyone else a favor and stay home, maybe do some day hikes in Flagstaff, where at the end of the day I can sleep in my own bed, with my swamp cooler on high, my little dog snoring by my side, with the full knowledge that if things get unbearably hot, I can just go someplace air conditioned and hang out. I sound like such a sissy. Probably because I am. Oh well. There are worse things in life than being a sissy.
The rim-to-rim hike is apparently something that people from all over the world place on their bucket lists. It's the thing to do to experience the Grand Canyon if you're more adventurous than the average tourist, who is content with merely standing at the edge, taking a good look, and then wandering into the gift shop to buy a magnet and t-shirt to commemorate the occasion. And I'm definitely not judging the look-and-shop Grand Canyon visitor, because by and large, that's what the Grand Canyon has been for me. Although I no longer buy t-shirts and since I already have a magnet, I just buy an ice cream cone instead. Yes, they have an ice cream shop at the Grand Canyon.
Doing a rim-to-rim hike is no small feat, and I had reservations about it from the beginning. In short, the total hike is about 26 miles, give or take a few...honestly, who keeps track after that many miles anyway? Not only is it 26 miles, but there are some significant elevation gains and losses going from top to bottom to top. The Grand Canyon is a mile deep. It's about 7 walking miles to traverse that one mile to the bottom. Which means it's about 7 miles back to the top once you've reached the bottom. Well, it's about 8 miles, technically, because the north rim of the Grand Canyon (where we would end) is about 1,000 feet higher than the south rim (where we would start). 8 miles of grueling switchbacks going up and up and up. So there's that.
Doing this hike requires that we carry with us anything that we might need on the hike. Supplies including, but not limited to: tent, sleeping bag, sleeping pad, food, water, clothing, cooking supplies, camera, toiletries, emergency supplies, etc. It doesn't sound like much, but it all adds up. Take into account that one liter of water weighs 2.2 pounds, and you're looking at close to 10 pounds in water alone, assuming that you're going to be carrying 4-5 liters, which is ideal and probably necessary for a long, active day in the sun.
And then there's the heat....oh boy, the heat. The Grand Canyon, at the bottom, can get up to 120 degrees in August, which is when we're planning our trip. I know it's a dry heat, and there is some merit in the dry heat, but 120 degrees is absolutely miserable, I don't care how dry the air is. I'm not a very heat tolerant person. I get very irritable when I get warm, especially when there is no easy way to cool off. If I'm warm at night, I can forget about getting a restful night's sleep. Spending a 120 degree day next to a lake where I can jump in and cool off is one thing, spending a 120 degree day at the bottom of a sweltering, dusty, canyon is quite another. Given that we will be doing the bulk of the hiking in the wee hours of the morning before the sun comes up, I wonder what we'll do the rest of the day when the sun is at its most relentless. Will there be shade? Will there be water to play in? Will there be an escape? Will I be lying there dumping my drinking water on myself in an effort to cool off?
So...Distance + Elevation + Pack + Heat = Uncertain Disaster for Stefanie. Fitness wise, I know I can do this. I can carry a pack, and I can pack it really light. I can hike a long way, and I can even hike uphill if I have to. The heat is the wild card. If anything is going to turn my attitude, it's going to be the heat. And the kicker? This isn't like a road race where I can just walk off the course and disqualify myself and go home if I'm not having it. Once I'm at the bottom of that canyon, I'm at the bottom, and the only way out is to hike my bad attitude out. Or, if my electrolytes get too funky, I can be taken out by helicopter, but I'd rather not go that way if I can avoid it. Hiking out with a bad attitude is actually preferable to that sort of helicopter ride....at least in theory.
I don't want to sound like this whiney, negative person, but I just don't know that I'm up for it. Don't get me wrong, I think it would be an amazing trip and it would definitely be a story to tell, but my heart's just not in it. And here's the very simple reason why. I don't like to struggle. It sounds silly to say that, because at the end of the day, who does like to struggle? The attitude that a normal person applies to struggling versus my attitude towards struggling is where the difference lies. I'm not one of those people who sees the merit in accomplishing something that requires a fair amount of struggling to get there. I applaud other people for struggling towards their goals, but I'd just rather not. If I embark on this trip and it's a constant struggle with the heat, with the distance, with the pack, with any adversity along the way, I'm going to hate it. And that hatred will not dissipate once the trip has ended. I will recall the trip in great detail, but with the memory that it was hard, it was painful, it was terrible, and that I had a bad attitude the whole time. I realize this is a personal problem and an obvious character flaw, but the fact that I'm aware of it has to count for something, right? I can choose my attitude most of the time, but there are times when it just gets the best of me.
I remember 7 years ago when Simon and I hiked down to Havasu Falls, also here in Arizona, in a canyon that eventually makes its way to the Grand Canyon. We went with Simon's sister Abby, and her friends Erica, Kristie, and Peppin. Despite the fact that it was a 10-mile hike to the campground, it was beautiful and it was fun and we went swimming everyday and played in the water and went on really cool hikes and we had ourselves a great time. But what is one of my strongest memories of that trip? The hike out...more specifically, the last bit of it which was all uphill, in the sun, in shoes that were eating away the skin on my heels and a pack that left bloody sores on my collarbones. The hike out began jovially enough, but by the time we were all exhausted and tired, conversation had stopped and we were just plodding our way along, slaves to the heavy packs on our backs and the sun beating down on us from above. The canyon walls which at the beginning of the trip were so beautiful and amazing had become oppressive and claustrophobic. I actually kind of hoped one of the mules from the mail train would run me over and end it all. The only conversation was Simon's sister intermittently asking what time it was. As we were nearing the end of the hike, on the terminal end of the brutal uphill climb, Abby asked once again what time it was, trying to determine how long it took us to hike out, and without missing a beat I said, "who fucking cares?" And I still feel bad about it. And how awful for them to be around someone with such a crappy attitude. It was an innocent, simple question, and I didn't even have the decency to, at the very least, not say anything at all.
It is that "who fucking cares" moment specifically that is giving me the most pause in relation to the rim-to-rim hike. I don't want to be like that, and I don't want anyone else to have to deal with me when I'm being like that. I know me better than anyone. I know my attitude when faced with adversity, and it's not pretty. It's not fun for me, and more importantly, it's definitely not fun for anyone else. Most people don't get it. There is merit in the struggle, I'll be so happy with the accomplishment when I'm done, it's a once-in-a-lifetime trip...these are all things that I've heard from people as I've been waffling back and forth between going and not going. I want to believe them, truly, I do. Some might wonder what the point is in my doing anything at all, given that life in general is varying degrees of struggling along the way. But therein lies the key...varying degrees of struggle allow me to gauge what will bring about success with a tolerable level of struggle. Struggling does not equal fun. At the end of the day, I guess I'd just rather not struggle unnecessarily.
Sometimes I think it would have been better had I not known anything about the hike, then I would have no choice but to suck it up and do it, not knowing any different. Sometimes knowledge is power, and sometimes it's a burden. Perhaps I'm overthinking this. Perhaps I'm not. Perhaps I should just go and if I have a meltdown, I have a meltdown. There's got to be places in the canyon where I can give myself a time out and take a nap, right? Maybe? Or perhaps I should just do myself and everyone else a favor and stay home, maybe do some day hikes in Flagstaff, where at the end of the day I can sleep in my own bed, with my swamp cooler on high, my little dog snoring by my side, with the full knowledge that if things get unbearably hot, I can just go someplace air conditioned and hang out. I sound like such a sissy. Probably because I am. Oh well. There are worse things in life than being a sissy.
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