Hello readers- my husband has decided to start blogging about travel as well, so we've decided to merge our blogs into one. We both have very similar styles, but unique perspectives that I hope you find enjoyable. Follow us both at http://southernwanderings.blogspot.com
Happy reading!
Tuesday, August 10, 2010
Saturday, August 7, 2010
Summer Waterfall Tour
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| Stillhouse Hollow Falls |
Since Sarah is out of town this weekend, Brian and I decided to take the dogs and venture out to Stillhouse Hollow Falls located 20 minutes southwest of Columbia in Maury County. Its a state natural area and features a small waterfall and a larger waterfall (Stillhouse Hollow Falls) with a 75-foot drop. The trail is only about 2/3rds of a mile, but features a pretty deep descent into the hollow. When we reached the base of the falls, there were a couple of families swimming in the shallow pool below, but we noticed an area where we could climb to a ledge under the falls and let the cool water rain down on the tops of our heads. We let the dogs off leash and watched them revert to puppies, splashing around and running back and forth between the different families.
Since we got a late start, we didn't stay long since I wanted to visit the gravesite of my paternal great-grandparents. They're buried next to an old church and spring at Cave Springs cemetery (est. 1853) along Liepers Creek Rd. in Maury County. We encountered quite a few detours on our way due to the extensive damage caused by the May flood, but with the aid of modern technology (Brian's iphone), we finally found our way to the cemetery. As I was taking photos of Emry Davis and Mamie Davis' gravestones, an elderly man with striking blue eyes and one arm stopped by and informed me it was Decoration Day. We also determined we were distantly related and shared the same last name, but as quickly as he appeared, he got back in his truck and drove off down the gravel road.
Monday, July 12, 2010
Cold Beer Under Bridge
I guess my first indication was when we pulled up to Bells Bridge, the put-in spot for kayakers and canoers on the Buffalo River, and noticed a handmade sign that stated, “Cold Beer Under Bridge” and pointed to a beer shack that indeed was under the bridge. It was only 9:30 and the shack was hoppin’ with underage kids trying to buy a cold can of Bud Light. Brian and I determined it was too early to hit up the beer shack and promptly took off down the river in our kayaks, only to be surrounded by drunk/high teenagers in canoes and dudes with rebel flag doo-rags. The few times we were able to break away from the crowds and experience the soothing sounds of nature, were quickly interrupted with the distant yelling of the “F-word” by rowdy teens who apparently cherished the use of this particular curse word.
We still managed to have a good time (and got in a grueling workout) despite the crowds and empty cans of beer that lined the river banks, but will undoubtedly never return. The 2-hour drive from Nashville just isn’t worth it when there are less crowded rivers like the Piney nearby.
The following day, I met up with my pal Sarah to hit the Jones Mill Mountain Bike Trail at Long Hunter State Park. We pulled into the empty parking lot at the trailhead and I was relieved to find that we had the whole trail to ourselves. The Jones Mill Trail offers a 4-mile and 2-mile loop so we opted for the longer 4-mile loop and enjoyed hopping numerous rock formations and riding along a ridge overlooking Percy Priest Lake. We both managed to stay on our bikes the majority of the time, and I was only thrown from my bike once- where I promptly remembered to scream out that word that the teens on the Buffalo River were so fond of. I woke up to bruises on my knee and ankle, but I’m quite proud of my “battle scars.”
After the ride, Sarah and I decided to head over to the Bryant Grove swimming area to take a cooling dip in the lake. Mistake. First of all, the water was murky and not at all cooling- it felt more like tepid bath water. Second of all, we were surrounded by children in swim diapers (gag) and a young boy with a shaved head and rattail that put my long hair to shame. We promptly exited the swim area and returned to Sarah’s car where we passed a man with sagging pants and teardrop tattoos lugging his two kids toward the beach. It was time to go home.
Monday, May 31, 2010
Septo-what?
A little less than two weeks ago, I had a septoplasty and turbinate reduction. What is this, you say? Hell if I know, but it has something to do with straightening out the cartilage in my nose and reducing the size of my sinus cavities. Oh...and it hurt like hell.
For years, I've had problems with my sinuses and problems breathing during sleep so the hope is that this will correct all that. For those who are considering this surgery, here is a brief description of what to expect:
On Monday morning, my husband drove me over to St. Thomas hospital where I checked in, got a wristband, and sat around feeling out of place in a sea of elderly people. For the next few hours, I was transferred from one room to another where I doled out free samples of my urine and blood, and finally landed in the recovery room where I got dressed in a hospital gown and socks. Here, Brian and I sat behind a curtain and listened as they wheeled in post-op patients either crying or moaning. This is a not a good place to be while waiting for your own surgery. Soon, the nurse came in and told me I was not pregnant (okay- I already told you I was on birth control), and took my vitals. Next, I was wheeled into yet another room where they stuck my hand with a needle (Ouch!) and administered some kind of chemical that made me sleepy. Next thing I know, I wake up with a gauze mustache taped across my face, the surgery is done, and I feel awful.
The nausea from the anesthetic causes me to throw up blood in the recovery room, but the nurse tells me this is normal. Since when is throwing up blood normal! They release me to go home and that's where the real fun begins.
The next few days are a haze of nausea, headaches, a swollen nose, and constipation. I have splints stitched into my nose to prevent my newly staightened septum from collapsing and as a result, I can only breathe through my mouth. Four days later, I have the splints removed and although I've never had a baby, I imagine its somewhat like giving birth, except out of your nose. The rest of the week is spent battling headaches, fatigue, and jaw pain. I still cannot breathe well out of my nose, but I'm supposed to go back to the doc's next week to have my nose vacuumed. Lovely.
So far, I can't tell the results- it takes a few months for the nose to completely heal. At this point, it has not been worth it, but once healing takes place, I may be singing a different tune. Okay- now where's my Afrin?
For years, I've had problems with my sinuses and problems breathing during sleep so the hope is that this will correct all that. For those who are considering this surgery, here is a brief description of what to expect:
On Monday morning, my husband drove me over to St. Thomas hospital where I checked in, got a wristband, and sat around feeling out of place in a sea of elderly people. For the next few hours, I was transferred from one room to another where I doled out free samples of my urine and blood, and finally landed in the recovery room where I got dressed in a hospital gown and socks. Here, Brian and I sat behind a curtain and listened as they wheeled in post-op patients either crying or moaning. This is a not a good place to be while waiting for your own surgery. Soon, the nurse came in and told me I was not pregnant (okay- I already told you I was on birth control), and took my vitals. Next, I was wheeled into yet another room where they stuck my hand with a needle (Ouch!) and administered some kind of chemical that made me sleepy. Next thing I know, I wake up with a gauze mustache taped across my face, the surgery is done, and I feel awful.
The nausea from the anesthetic causes me to throw up blood in the recovery room, but the nurse tells me this is normal. Since when is throwing up blood normal! They release me to go home and that's where the real fun begins.
The next few days are a haze of nausea, headaches, a swollen nose, and constipation. I have splints stitched into my nose to prevent my newly staightened septum from collapsing and as a result, I can only breathe through my mouth. Four days later, I have the splints removed and although I've never had a baby, I imagine its somewhat like giving birth, except out of your nose. The rest of the week is spent battling headaches, fatigue, and jaw pain. I still cannot breathe well out of my nose, but I'm supposed to go back to the doc's next week to have my nose vacuumed. Lovely.
So far, I can't tell the results- it takes a few months for the nose to completely heal. At this point, it has not been worth it, but once healing takes place, I may be singing a different tune. Okay- now where's my Afrin?
Sunday, April 25, 2010
Crossing the Finish Line
Yesterday I accomplished a goal that I began working on last November- I finished my first half-marathon. It was one of the most physically and mentally challenging things I've ever completed, but the rewards far surpass any pain I experienced along the way. To top it off, I completed the 13.1 miles in 2 hours and 24 minutes, averaging around 11 minutes per mile. Not bad considering I hadn't trained in nearly a month, and was still dealing with pain from achilles tendonitis.
To recap yesterday's events, I woke up at 5 am, pinned on my racing bib and laced up my running shoes, and Brian drove me over to the starting line at Centennial Park. Along with approx. 30,000 other runners, I made my way to my corral and began to stretch for the longest run I've experienced at this point. I really don't know the science behind the proper fueling of my body pre-race, I just ate a huge pasta dinner the night before, and listened to my body during the run. I could tell when I needed water, or when my body needed salt.
Before I knew it, the race was on and I made my way down Broadway as hordes of spectators cheered us on. I gave children high fives as I raced past them, watched a guy run while juggling at the same time, and passed a group of spectators dressed as the band Kiss as I made my way through the Gulch. I was pacing myself particularly well for the first 7 miles, but around mile 8, I could really feel my mental and physical energy begin to drain. I could feel blisters forming on the bottom of my feet and began to feel a little sick from the mixture of water and energy drink that I inhaled at each fuel station. By the time I hit mile 12, I felt like I couldn't go any further, but I knew I was almost to the end and had to keep going. I wish I could say I sprinted to the finish line for the last mile, but it was more of a shuffle. Regardless of my pace, I crossed the finish line and it was an incredible feeling. As soon as I crossed, we were herded through a line where we recieved our medals, grabbed up food and water, and had our pictures taken. At this point, I felt like my legs were going to give out at any moment and all I wanted to do was find Brian and go home.
Brian and I reunited in the family reunion area and promptly headed for Mitchell's Deli for a turkey sandwich, and then I just crashed and enjoyed a nice nap. My legs are very sore and stiff today, and I'm suffering a bit of post-race depression, but I'm already planning my next race. I'm hooked!!
To recap yesterday's events, I woke up at 5 am, pinned on my racing bib and laced up my running shoes, and Brian drove me over to the starting line at Centennial Park. Along with approx. 30,000 other runners, I made my way to my corral and began to stretch for the longest run I've experienced at this point. I really don't know the science behind the proper fueling of my body pre-race, I just ate a huge pasta dinner the night before, and listened to my body during the run. I could tell when I needed water, or when my body needed salt.
Before I knew it, the race was on and I made my way down Broadway as hordes of spectators cheered us on. I gave children high fives as I raced past them, watched a guy run while juggling at the same time, and passed a group of spectators dressed as the band Kiss as I made my way through the Gulch. I was pacing myself particularly well for the first 7 miles, but around mile 8, I could really feel my mental and physical energy begin to drain. I could feel blisters forming on the bottom of my feet and began to feel a little sick from the mixture of water and energy drink that I inhaled at each fuel station. By the time I hit mile 12, I felt like I couldn't go any further, but I knew I was almost to the end and had to keep going. I wish I could say I sprinted to the finish line for the last mile, but it was more of a shuffle. Regardless of my pace, I crossed the finish line and it was an incredible feeling. As soon as I crossed, we were herded through a line where we recieved our medals, grabbed up food and water, and had our pictures taken. At this point, I felt like my legs were going to give out at any moment and all I wanted to do was find Brian and go home.
Brian and I reunited in the family reunion area and promptly headed for Mitchell's Deli for a turkey sandwich, and then I just crashed and enjoyed a nice nap. My legs are very sore and stiff today, and I'm suffering a bit of post-race depression, but I'm already planning my next race. I'm hooked!!
Tuesday, April 20, 2010
John C. Clayborn Millennium Trail
April in Tennessee brings out a kaleidoscope of colors as wildflowers blanket the forest floor. My mom is a wildflower enthusiast (or maniac depending on how you look at it) and wanted to see the colors in their full glory by taking a long hike. We've been talking about hiking the 8 mile Millennium Trail for a couple of years now, so we decided to quit talking about and just do it.
Located within Edgar Evans State Park, the John C. Clayborn Millennium Trail follows the outline of a peninsula in Center Hill Lake and passes by old homesteads where the only remnants of human influence are seen in the low rock walls so typically built by Scots-Irish immigrants to Tennessee. We also passed the remains of an old springhouse before we began our strenuous ascent up the ridge. The wildflowers did not disappoint, and every switchback revealed a new flower, a new color. While I highly recommend this trail for its scenery and history, it is extrememly strenuous and literally sapped me of my energy. I was so grateful for the PB&J sandwich and trail mix that my mom packed because it literally gave me the boost I needed to make it over the last few hills.
If you do decide to hike this trail, I highly recommend you stop at the visitor's center at the entrance of the park and climb the spiral staircase to the top of the tower. The tower overlooks the Center Hill Dam and from a distance, you can even see the abandoned cooling tower from the defunct nuclear plant in Hartsville, TN- which is nearly 40 miles north of Edgar Evans State Park!
Located within Edgar Evans State Park, the John C. Clayborn Millennium Trail follows the outline of a peninsula in Center Hill Lake and passes by old homesteads where the only remnants of human influence are seen in the low rock walls so typically built by Scots-Irish immigrants to Tennessee. We also passed the remains of an old springhouse before we began our strenuous ascent up the ridge. The wildflowers did not disappoint, and every switchback revealed a new flower, a new color. While I highly recommend this trail for its scenery and history, it is extrememly strenuous and literally sapped me of my energy. I was so grateful for the PB&J sandwich and trail mix that my mom packed because it literally gave me the boost I needed to make it over the last few hills.
If you do decide to hike this trail, I highly recommend you stop at the visitor's center at the entrance of the park and climb the spiral staircase to the top of the tower. The tower overlooks the Center Hill Dam and from a distance, you can even see the abandoned cooling tower from the defunct nuclear plant in Hartsville, TN- which is nearly 40 miles north of Edgar Evans State Park!
Monday, March 29, 2010
Urban Bicyling Expedition
With temps in the 60s and the sunshine casting its golden rays, the past few Saturdays have been ideal for a bike ride in Nashville.
As many of you already know, I've been training for the Country Music half-marathon in April and have suffered a few leg injuries as a result. My orthopedist recommended riding my bike as a low-impact alternative, so I've been spending the last couple of weekends in the saddle. Luckily, my friend and fellow half-marathon trainee, Sarah, has joined me on my cycling adventures, and can testify to the strange characters we've encountered along the way.
Two weeks ago, we set out from the Shelby Bottoms trailhead in Shelby Park and rode all the way to Percy Priest Dam. Along the way, we decided to follow an unpaved trail to McGavock Spring House that piqued our interest. The trail was most certainly not a mountain bike trail, and after wrestling with and ultimately destroying a small sapling, we decided to ditch our bikes at a fallen tree and walk the remainder of the way. The trail was quite overgrown and right as were about to turn a corner, Sarah tells me, "I could totally see a homeless person living out here." Sure enough, we turned the corner to find a homeless man spread out on a blanket surrounded by a multitude of jugs. We turned and hightailed it out of there, laughing the entire way. Further along the trail, we passed an Elvis-look-alike, nearly escaped a 3-bike accident at a busy intersection on Lebanon Road, and witnessed a young boy begin to pull his pants down to expose himself to us as his grandparents fished from the pond nearby. Afterwards, we inhaled ice cream cones from Pied Piper Creamery.
Last Saturday, we met up at the Downtown Presbyterian Church and decided to do some urban exploring. I had heard that you could technically ride your bike from the Metrocenter greenway all the way to Percy Priest Dam. We decided to ride the portion between Shelby Bottoms and Metrocenter since it was 'new territory' to explore. Starting from Church Street, we rode all the way to Metrocenter, encountering all kinds of industrial scenery, homeless persons, and various tent cities along the Cumberland River. The wind was ferocious on top of the Metrocenter Levee, and we pushed to make it back downtown, even though the ride is primarily flat. After we passed under the Jefferson Street bridge, we rode over to the Farmer's market, locked up our bikes, and enjoyed New Orleans-style snowballs from Fleur de Lis (owned by a New Orleans native and colleague of mine, Tanisha Hall).
Post-Snowball consumption, we continued on our journey by riding over the Shelby Street pedestrian bridge, down Davidson street, and into Shelby Park. More industrial scenery here, with views of the PSC Metals scrapyard and a Feed the Children warehouse. On our way back, we rode our bikes along a portion of Broadway, and at one point as we waited for the light to turn red, I looked over to see a horse-drawn carriage in the lane next to me. With no metal shield to separate me and the horse next to me, I realized how alive I felt by being on my bike.
As many of you already know, I've been training for the Country Music half-marathon in April and have suffered a few leg injuries as a result. My orthopedist recommended riding my bike as a low-impact alternative, so I've been spending the last couple of weekends in the saddle. Luckily, my friend and fellow half-marathon trainee, Sarah, has joined me on my cycling adventures, and can testify to the strange characters we've encountered along the way.
Two weeks ago, we set out from the Shelby Bottoms trailhead in Shelby Park and rode all the way to Percy Priest Dam. Along the way, we decided to follow an unpaved trail to McGavock Spring House that piqued our interest. The trail was most certainly not a mountain bike trail, and after wrestling with and ultimately destroying a small sapling, we decided to ditch our bikes at a fallen tree and walk the remainder of the way. The trail was quite overgrown and right as were about to turn a corner, Sarah tells me, "I could totally see a homeless person living out here." Sure enough, we turned the corner to find a homeless man spread out on a blanket surrounded by a multitude of jugs. We turned and hightailed it out of there, laughing the entire way. Further along the trail, we passed an Elvis-look-alike, nearly escaped a 3-bike accident at a busy intersection on Lebanon Road, and witnessed a young boy begin to pull his pants down to expose himself to us as his grandparents fished from the pond nearby. Afterwards, we inhaled ice cream cones from Pied Piper Creamery.
Last Saturday, we met up at the Downtown Presbyterian Church and decided to do some urban exploring. I had heard that you could technically ride your bike from the Metrocenter greenway all the way to Percy Priest Dam. We decided to ride the portion between Shelby Bottoms and Metrocenter since it was 'new territory' to explore. Starting from Church Street, we rode all the way to Metrocenter, encountering all kinds of industrial scenery, homeless persons, and various tent cities along the Cumberland River. The wind was ferocious on top of the Metrocenter Levee, and we pushed to make it back downtown, even though the ride is primarily flat. After we passed under the Jefferson Street bridge, we rode over to the Farmer's market, locked up our bikes, and enjoyed New Orleans-style snowballs from Fleur de Lis (owned by a New Orleans native and colleague of mine, Tanisha Hall).
Post-Snowball consumption, we continued on our journey by riding over the Shelby Street pedestrian bridge, down Davidson street, and into Shelby Park. More industrial scenery here, with views of the PSC Metals scrapyard and a Feed the Children warehouse. On our way back, we rode our bikes along a portion of Broadway, and at one point as we waited for the light to turn red, I looked over to see a horse-drawn carriage in the lane next to me. With no metal shield to separate me and the horse next to me, I realized how alive I felt by being on my bike.
Thursday, February 18, 2010
Peaks and Valleys
I'm now in my second month of training for the half-marathon with the East Nasty Running Club. I've surprised myself by how far and long I can run. Overall, I feel great. Running has honestly kept me sane in these cold, dreary Winter months. Normally at this time of year I would slip into a depression- not wanting to leave the couch or visit with friends, and just generally feeling blah. Instead, I've made new friends and feel like a part of a close-knit community. I've also improved my physical fitness, can pretty much eat whatever I want, and have a reason to get off the couch the four days a week that I run.
But while I am certainly achieving new "highs", running does come with its lows. Mainly, I've been having a lot of problems w/ asthma and aches and pains in my legs. This causes me to feel mentally and physically weak. I've never been an athlete- as a teenager I was more content to brood alone in my bedroom, playing guitar for hours at a time. However, I am a perfectionist and am disappointed to find that running doesn't come naturally to me and is quite a challenge. I wish I could keep up my friends without huffing and puffing, and without my shins screaming from pain. Everyday I google something new about running, hoping I will find the ultimate key to running faster without pain. Everyday I am disappointed. My impatient, competitive self wants to just be there already, but my body is holding me back.
Regardless of the emotional/physical peaks and valleys I experience in my training, I know its making me a stronger person, teaching me patience, and fostering new friendships.
But while I am certainly achieving new "highs", running does come with its lows. Mainly, I've been having a lot of problems w/ asthma and aches and pains in my legs. This causes me to feel mentally and physically weak. I've never been an athlete- as a teenager I was more content to brood alone in my bedroom, playing guitar for hours at a time. However, I am a perfectionist and am disappointed to find that running doesn't come naturally to me and is quite a challenge. I wish I could keep up my friends without huffing and puffing, and without my shins screaming from pain. Everyday I google something new about running, hoping I will find the ultimate key to running faster without pain. Everyday I am disappointed. My impatient, competitive self wants to just be there already, but my body is holding me back.
Regardless of the emotional/physical peaks and valleys I experience in my training, I know its making me a stronger person, teaching me patience, and fostering new friendships.
Sunday, January 3, 2010
Resolution Run
Most people spend January 1st nursing hangovers from a raucous night of drinking, partying, and staying up late. Instead, Brian and I spent January 1st running the Resolution Run 5k in 30 degree weather. It wasn't exactly how I imagined spending New Year's Day, but now that my partying days are mostly behind me (I only drank one margarita and went to bed promptly at midnight...yawn), it wasn't a stretch for me to wake up early the next day and run. Besides, it was a pretty fitting start to 2010 considering my plans to train for and run the Country Music half-marathon in April.
We bundled up and drove downtown where we met other like-minded (read: crazy) people at Hall of Fame park. We picked up our packets, and with numb fingers attempted to pin on our racing bibs. I managed to stab myself multiple times, but luckily my fingers were already frozen at that point. Then we followed a mass of people to the start line and several minutes later we here the BANG! of the gun go off.
For the first mile, I was on fire. I took off running past all kinds of people, but by the second mile I was hitting the proverbial "wall." My face was numb from the cold air and my shins cried out in pain. Still- I didn't stop. I kept running to the beat of my iTunes playlist and before I knew it, I was crossing the Shelby Street pedestrian bridge and crossing the finish line with a race time of 30 min. and 50 seconds! Not bad considering it equals out to less than 10 minutes per mile. In the end I placed 23rd out of 68 women in my age group.
Once I crossed the finish line, I realized I was the equivalent of drunk. I stumbled around looking for Brian and managed to randomly lay down my gloves and walk off without them. Good thing they were $0.99 cheapies. I quickly downed some free cornbread and water and then headed for the warmth of my car. On the way home we stopped at the Wendy's drive-thru and splurged on burgers and fries, thus negating any calorie deficit we may have earned that morning.
We bundled up and drove downtown where we met other like-minded (read: crazy) people at Hall of Fame park. We picked up our packets, and with numb fingers attempted to pin on our racing bibs. I managed to stab myself multiple times, but luckily my fingers were already frozen at that point. Then we followed a mass of people to the start line and several minutes later we here the BANG! of the gun go off.
For the first mile, I was on fire. I took off running past all kinds of people, but by the second mile I was hitting the proverbial "wall." My face was numb from the cold air and my shins cried out in pain. Still- I didn't stop. I kept running to the beat of my iTunes playlist and before I knew it, I was crossing the Shelby Street pedestrian bridge and crossing the finish line with a race time of 30 min. and 50 seconds! Not bad considering it equals out to less than 10 minutes per mile. In the end I placed 23rd out of 68 women in my age group.
Once I crossed the finish line, I realized I was the equivalent of drunk. I stumbled around looking for Brian and managed to randomly lay down my gloves and walk off without them. Good thing they were $0.99 cheapies. I quickly downed some free cornbread and water and then headed for the warmth of my car. On the way home we stopped at the Wendy's drive-thru and splurged on burgers and fries, thus negating any calorie deficit we may have earned that morning.
Wednesday, December 30, 2009
I didn't inhale....
About 23 years ago, when I was in 2nd grade, I had to stay in the hospital for nearly a week after developing a severe case of pneumonia. What I didn't know at the time was that I was much sicker than I thought and quite possibly could have died. My potassium levels nearly bottomed out and I was stuck with an IV and went through nightmarish breathing treatments where I had to inhale some horrible smoky-tasting treatment followed by a nurse practically beating the shit out of my tiny 7-year old back in order to loosen up the phlegm in my lungs. My mom stayed with me the entire time and I shared a room with some older lady behind a curtain. I have no idea why she was actually there, but as I child I convinced myself that she was in the hospital for eating cigarettes.
I share this because I had to visit the Walgreen's clinic today and was diagnosed with sports-related asthma. I'm pretty sure my bout of childhood pneumonia left me with a somewhat reduced lung capacity. I knew something was wrong when I started riding my bike and running outside earlier this year. At the end (and sometimes during) my exercise, I started coughing and wheezing. I felt like I had the weight of a post-Jenny Craig Kirstie Alley sitting on my chest. So the Walgreen's doc prescribed an albuterol inhaler and I was on my way home to deal with the fact that I will now have to carry an inhaler with me when I run.
In reality its not that much of a setback. Initially I was a little concerned since not one hour earlier, I had signed up for the Resolution Run 5k with expected high temps in the low 30s (cold air aggravates asthma). Could I really do this knowing I would have to rely on an inhaler in order to do something as critical as breathing? As always, I turned to the internet for expert advice. A google search for sports-related asthma revealed that I share this diagnosis with Jackie Kersee Joiner. She was a pretty good runner I guess...... In other words, I think I'll live.
I share this because I had to visit the Walgreen's clinic today and was diagnosed with sports-related asthma. I'm pretty sure my bout of childhood pneumonia left me with a somewhat reduced lung capacity. I knew something was wrong when I started riding my bike and running outside earlier this year. At the end (and sometimes during) my exercise, I started coughing and wheezing. I felt like I had the weight of a post-Jenny Craig Kirstie Alley sitting on my chest. So the Walgreen's doc prescribed an albuterol inhaler and I was on my way home to deal with the fact that I will now have to carry an inhaler with me when I run.
In reality its not that much of a setback. Initially I was a little concerned since not one hour earlier, I had signed up for the Resolution Run 5k with expected high temps in the low 30s (cold air aggravates asthma). Could I really do this knowing I would have to rely on an inhaler in order to do something as critical as breathing? As always, I turned to the internet for expert advice. A google search for sports-related asthma revealed that I share this diagnosis with Jackie Kersee Joiner. She was a pretty good runner I guess...... In other words, I think I'll live.
Friday, December 25, 2009
New Year, New Direction
In case you haven't noticed- I haven't posted in a looooong time. As much as I enjoy writing about my travels, I think I would utilize this blog more often if I strayed from my travel theme and just started writing about everyday life, memories, travel, etc. My resolution for 2010 is to write more often so I can look back at the end of the year and see how life has unfolded.
For years I kept a personal journal to sort through the severe anxiety and depression I battled as a teen and early adult. Every once in a while I'll flip to a random entry just to see where I was at that point and how far I've come since those dark days. Sometimes its very difficult to revisit my past like that, but as I age, I've come to realize that I'm the only person who can help myself. As a result, I've really put myself in situations I would normally avoid in order to grow. I hope this year will find me reaching out more to others, adhering to goals rather than dropping them out of fear of failure, and conquering my desire to please everyone (which we all know is impossible), and instead doing what I think is best for me.
Just a few weeks ago I decided to train with a group for the half-marathon in April. I expect to not only push myself physically, but emotionally as well. The hardest part for me was showing up at that first group run. Most people don't know it, but interacting socially with people I don't know can be crippling for me. I ended up forcing myself to join the group on its first run even though I felt my chest tighten and breathing shallow at the thought of meeting new people. My fears were realized: Noone talked to me during that first outing, and I couldn't even keep up with the runners. I felt like such a loser, but rather than walk away feeling hopeless, I returned for a second time. I can't give up this time- I've done that way too many times in the past. I have to see this through.
Stay tuned....
Wednesday, October 21, 2009
Land Between the Lakes
A few weeks ago, my mom and I got cabin fever and decided do some off-road bike riding. With the sun partially out, we choked down some Egg McMuffins and headed north to Kentucky and entered Land Between the Lakes. Here, there is a 11 mile mountain bike trail called the Canal Loop trail that appropriately borders the canal between Lake Barkley (Cumberland River) and Lake Kentucky (Tennessee River).
Mom had never mountain-biked before and quickly learned that it primarily consists of riding over roots and rocks, thus leading to inevitable scratches and bruises. However, I give the ole' gal props for mountain biking at nearly 60! Neither one of us ever fell, and enjoyed the adventure of riding in a new place. I can't say that I was enamored with the beauty of Land Between the Lakes- maybe it was having an off day, but it did have some good roads for bicycle riding, and was surprisingly hilly.
When we got done, we loaded our muddy bikes into the back of the truck and headed back towards TN. For some reason I got a jones for Arby's curly fries and we refused to stop until we found one- which was an hour later in Clarksville, TN (we were so happy we cheered). It just goes to show you that life's simple pleasures can be found working up a sweat followed by eating greasy curly fries.
Mom had never mountain-biked before and quickly learned that it primarily consists of riding over roots and rocks, thus leading to inevitable scratches and bruises. However, I give the ole' gal props for mountain biking at nearly 60! Neither one of us ever fell, and enjoyed the adventure of riding in a new place. I can't say that I was enamored with the beauty of Land Between the Lakes- maybe it was having an off day, but it did have some good roads for bicycle riding, and was surprisingly hilly.
When we got done, we loaded our muddy bikes into the back of the truck and headed back towards TN. For some reason I got a jones for Arby's curly fries and we refused to stop until we found one- which was an hour later in Clarksville, TN (we were so happy we cheered). It just goes to show you that life's simple pleasures can be found working up a sweat followed by eating greasy curly fries.
Thursday, July 30, 2009
Paddle Faster, I Hear Banjos
Brian and I decided to finally brave the rapids of the Hiwassee River over the July 4th weekend. We left at the crack of dawn on Friday and drove all the way to the old town of Reliance, TN in the Cherokee National Forest. As we drove into town, we followed an old rickety farm truck full of people getting ready to run the rapids, and I so hoped we would be riding in a similar vehicle, but our outfitter drove us along a scarily narrow road to the put-in spot in an old short bus instead.
Once the bus let us off, we took our inflatable kayaks and foul-smelling life jackets and hopped in the cold mountain waters and prepared for paddling two hours of Class 1,2, and 3 rapids. I’d like to think of myself as a good paddler, but I was not prepared for some of the sheer drops we had to make, and by some stroke of luck I managed to keep from falling in the river. Brian never fell either, but he did get stuck on a couple of rocks jutting out just below the river’s surface, and I got to laugh as he attempted rather violent body movements to wrench himself free from the rocks.
The last rapid we reached, Devil’s Shoals, was by far the most fun rapid I’ve ever run. Waves of water spilled into my boat as the water bucked me up into the air. Those few seconds of terror were absolutely exhilarating! Oddly enough, you can also go down the Hiwassee in an inflatable tube that offers no protection. I was surprised to not see a mass of floating bodies and abandoned inner tubes as we reached the take-out point.
Kayaking the Hiwassee was so much fun that we were depressed to have to exit the river in order to get a ride back to our car. We were the first ones from our group to finish and waited for our short bus as a nearby group of deaf kids excitedly signed over their river adventure. After we dried off and got back to our car, we snapped a few pics of cool, old buildings in Reliance (such as this old school/church below) and made our way home.
Once the bus let us off, we took our inflatable kayaks and foul-smelling life jackets and hopped in the cold mountain waters and prepared for paddling two hours of Class 1,2, and 3 rapids. I’d like to think of myself as a good paddler, but I was not prepared for some of the sheer drops we had to make, and by some stroke of luck I managed to keep from falling in the river. Brian never fell either, but he did get stuck on a couple of rocks jutting out just below the river’s surface, and I got to laugh as he attempted rather violent body movements to wrench himself free from the rocks.
The last rapid we reached, Devil’s Shoals, was by far the most fun rapid I’ve ever run. Waves of water spilled into my boat as the water bucked me up into the air. Those few seconds of terror were absolutely exhilarating! Oddly enough, you can also go down the Hiwassee in an inflatable tube that offers no protection. I was surprised to not see a mass of floating bodies and abandoned inner tubes as we reached the take-out point.
Kayaking the Hiwassee was so much fun that we were depressed to have to exit the river in order to get a ride back to our car. We were the first ones from our group to finish and waited for our short bus as a nearby group of deaf kids excitedly signed over their river adventure. After we dried off and got back to our car, we snapped a few pics of cool, old buildings in Reliance (such as this old school/church below) and made our way home.
Tuesday, June 16, 2009
Frozen Head and Brushy Mountain Prison
After departing from Oak Ridge, Brian and I decided to take Highway 62 from Oliver Springs to Clarkrange, where we then opted to drive south towards Crossville and join back up with I-40 so we could grab a bite to eat and get home quickly. However, we made several side trips on the way home in order to see Brushy Mountain prison, Frozen Head State Natural Area, the Obed National Scenic River, and Bee Rock.
Ever since I was a kid, I've had a strange fascination with places associated with deviant behaviors: prisons, abandoned mental hospitals, battlefields, crime scenes, etc. I suppose I feel that these places hold a special energy that always makes me feel uneasy and a bit agitated at the same time. In simpler terms, these places put me on edge and make me really feel alive. That's why I felt so compelled to see Brushy Mountain state Prison located in a remote valley of Morgan County.
Brushy Mountain State Penitentiary first opened in 1896 to house prisoners previously used as convict laborers in the nearby coal mines. It held some of the state's most dangerous prisoners, including James Earl Ray who assasinated Martin Luther King, Jr. He and six other prisoners escaped for four days in 1977, but were eventually found and hauled back. Considering that Brushy Mountain sits in a cove directly surrounded by mountains, its a wonder anyone escaped at all. Just this year, Brushy Mountain closed its doors to prisoners after operating for 113 years.
After Brushy Mountain, we drove on to Frozen Head State Natural Area where we hiked a short stretch of Panther Trail branch to see a waterfall. According to their visitor's brochure, Frozen Head was originally acquired as part of Brushy Mountain State Prison so that convicts could deep mine coal and harvest trees to supply timbers for the mine. The land was then transferred to the State Parks system in 1970 and features several hiking trails.
Next, we drove through historic Wartburg and on to the wild and scenic Obed River where pioneers used to fish and trap game. The Obed is overseen by the National Park Service and features difficult Class II to Class IV rapids. My goal is to kayak the Obed one day, but my ability probably stops around Class II.
Leaving the Obed, we drove through continuous pastures dotted with oil rigs on the Cumberland Plateau. Here we exited Highway 62 and rejoined I-40 where we took one last detour to Bee Rock in Monterey, TN. I went to college near Monterey, and Bee Rock was a favorite spot of local adventurers who repelled off the cliffs overlooking the unspoiled valley carved by the Calfkiller River.
After our day of roadtripping across Eastern and Middle TN, we made one last pit stop to join my parents at a local Mexican restaurant where we consumed massive amounts of chips and salsa and diet coke. Carbs and caffeine, mmmm.........
Brushy Mountain State Penitentiary first opened in 1896 to house prisoners previously used as convict laborers in the nearby coal mines. It held some of the state's most dangerous prisoners, including James Earl Ray who assasinated Martin Luther King, Jr. He and six other prisoners escaped for four days in 1977, but were eventually found and hauled back. Considering that Brushy Mountain sits in a cove directly surrounded by mountains, its a wonder anyone escaped at all. Just this year, Brushy Mountain closed its doors to prisoners after operating for 113 years.After Brushy Mountain, we drove on to Frozen Head State Natural Area where we hiked a short stretch of Panther Trail branch to see a waterfall. According to their visitor's brochure, Frozen Head was originally acquired as part of Brushy Mountain State Prison so that convicts could deep mine coal and harvest trees to supply timbers for the mine. The land was then transferred to the State Parks system in 1970 and features several hiking trails.
Next, we drove through historic Wartburg and on to the wild and scenic Obed River where pioneers used to fish and trap game. The Obed is overseen by the National Park Service and features difficult Class II to Class IV rapids. My goal is to kayak the Obed one day, but my ability probably stops around Class II.
Leaving the Obed, we drove through continuous pastures dotted with oil rigs on the Cumberland Plateau. Here we exited Highway 62 and rejoined I-40 where we took one last detour to Bee Rock in Monterey, TN. I went to college near Monterey, and Bee Rock was a favorite spot of local adventurers who repelled off the cliffs overlooking the unspoiled valley carved by the Calfkiller River.
After our day of roadtripping across Eastern and Middle TN, we made one last pit stop to join my parents at a local Mexican restaurant where we consumed massive amounts of chips and salsa and diet coke. Carbs and caffeine, mmmm.........
Sunday, May 31, 2009
The Secret City
The past couple of months have rained like there's no tomorrow. I guess its really a blessing since Tennessee went through a terrible drought just a couple of summers ago, but it really has put a damper on my spring traveling plans. I've managed to escape the rain with a trip to Charleston, SC (actually it rained while we were there) and Las Vegas, but I'll post on those trips another day. I feel like I need to get back to my roots and write about my travels in TN.
About two weeks ago, Brian and I headed to Oak Ridge so he could compete in a bike race. While he was riding around on the hot blacktop, I set off to explore the Secret City (a.k.a. Oak Ridge.) Oak Ridge was established in 1942 by the U.S. Department of Energy as a laboratory for the Manhattan Project. It got its nickname of "Secret City" because the government kept its existence a secret, providing guard stations and fences to keep folks out. In addition, Oak Ridge didn't even appear on maps until 1949.
At present, Oak Ridge is no longer a secret, but it still has that eerie feeling of secrecy thanks to the numerous Dept. of Energy signs posted along abandoned roadways advising you to keep out. As I was exploring one of the many greenways within the city, I came upon the historic community of Wheat, TN.
Wheat, TN was an old 1800s farming community that was displaced in 1942 when the Department of Energy bought up the land as part of the Manhattan Project. The only building still remaining is the 1901 George Jones church and the Wheat Community cemetery. I walked around the grounds of the cemetery and took special note of a gravestone carved to look like logs. On closer inspection, the grave marker indicated that the deceased was a member of the woodworker's industrial union.
Who knows what other "secret" places exist in Oak Ridge. There were so many abandoned roads that were off limits to the public, and although they beckoned to my desire to explore, the thought of being jailed for trespassing on federal lands associated with nuclear weaponry stopped me dead in my tracks. Maybe next time....
Wheat, TN was an old 1800s farming community that was displaced in 1942 when the Department of Energy bought up the land as part of the Manhattan Project. The only building still remaining is the 1901 George Jones church and the Wheat Community cemetery. I walked around the grounds of the cemetery and took special note of a gravestone carved to look like logs. On closer inspection, the grave marker indicated that the deceased was a member of the woodworker's industrial union.
Who knows what other "secret" places exist in Oak Ridge. There were so many abandoned roads that were off limits to the public, and although they beckoned to my desire to explore, the thought of being jailed for trespassing on federal lands associated with nuclear weaponry stopped me dead in my tracks. Maybe next time....
Saturday, March 14, 2009
Cultural Confusion
Snapped this picture on top of Signal Mountain. Looks like a place that would serve a dinner of fried chicken, mashed potatoes, and green beans rather than wonton soup and Peking duck.
Sunday, March 1, 2009
Bok Tower and Spook Hill
It seems odd to be writing about my Florida Christmas vacation when its March 1st, but my last Florida post didn't include my day trip to the lush Bok Tower Gardens and Spook Hill.
Bok Tower was built in 1927 after Pulitzer Prize winning author Edward Bok commissioned the gardens and tower on top of "Iron Mountain", the highest point in Florida at only 298 feet above sea level (my grandfather jokes that he'll run to Bok Tower in case the sea levels begin to quickly rise). The Tower contains a carillion that is still played today during daily performances.
As a kid, my parents and grandparents would take my brother and I to Bok Tower to walk around the gardens and feed the dozens of domicile squirrels that scampered along the grounds. I remember my parents buying a bag of peanuts and using them to trick squirrels into climbing up my legs. I was a kid so I didn't think twice about their potential to bite me despite the warnings from elderly onlookers. (I never did get bit, by the way)
Now, as a newly married adult, I decided to return to Bok Tower with my husband, mom, cousins, and Grandfather one balmy December day. I watched as my mom attempted to feed the swans and they bit at her feet in return. I basked in the warmth of the sun and the cool breeze. I watched my husband take photos of the lush, scenic landscape. I truly felt at peace.
On the way back from Bok Tower, we decided to stop at an odd roadside attraction known as Spook Hill. Supposedly you can put your car in neutral at the base of a hill, and it feels like you're moving upwards rather than backwards. It worked as a kid, but as an adult I didn't buy it. A group of motorcyclists stopped to experience Spook Hill, but the looks on their faces told me they didn't buy it either. Needless to say, I did not get my thrill on Spook Hill.
Bok Tower was built in 1927 after Pulitzer Prize winning author Edward Bok commissioned the gardens and tower on top of "Iron Mountain", the highest point in Florida at only 298 feet above sea level (my grandfather jokes that he'll run to Bok Tower in case the sea levels begin to quickly rise). The Tower contains a carillion that is still played today during daily performances.
As a kid, my parents and grandparents would take my brother and I to Bok Tower to walk around the gardens and feed the dozens of domicile squirrels that scampered along the grounds. I remember my parents buying a bag of peanuts and using them to trick squirrels into climbing up my legs. I was a kid so I didn't think twice about their potential to bite me despite the warnings from elderly onlookers. (I never did get bit, by the way)
Now, as a newly married adult, I decided to return to Bok Tower with my husband, mom, cousins, and Grandfather one balmy December day. I watched as my mom attempted to feed the swans and they bit at her feet in return. I basked in the warmth of the sun and the cool breeze. I watched my husband take photos of the lush, scenic landscape. I truly felt at peace.
On the way back from Bok Tower, we decided to stop at an odd roadside attraction known as Spook Hill. Supposedly you can put your car in neutral at the base of a hill, and it feels like you're moving upwards rather than backwards. It worked as a kid, but as an adult I didn't buy it. A group of motorcyclists stopped to experience Spook Hill, but the looks on their faces told me they didn't buy it either. Needless to say, I did not get my thrill on Spook Hill.
Thursday, February 26, 2009
Excuses, excuses....
Well, I've been on several adventures lately- including a mother/daughter trip to Chattanooga and a vacation to Charleston, South Carolina. I promise to write again soon, but I just happen to be taking a graduate class at night that requires me to write weekly papers concerning classical organization theory, organization structure, qualities of a leader, blah blah blah...... I'd honestly rather pluck each of my eyelashes out one by one.
Needless to say, writing has become a chore as of late, but I intend to post something new next week when I go on Spring Break (which means I'll work 7.5 hours a day, then come home and possibly go to the gym or watch some mindless TV show on VH1 that i recorded on the DVR rather than get drunk on the beaches of Florida and come home with some terrible air brushed tee)
Needless to say, writing has become a chore as of late, but I intend to post something new next week when I go on Spring Break (which means I'll work 7.5 hours a day, then come home and possibly go to the gym or watch some mindless TV show on VH1 that i recorded on the DVR rather than get drunk on the beaches of Florida and come home with some terrible air brushed tee)
Sunday, January 25, 2009
Islands of Adventure
Brian and I decided to spend Christmas in Florida with my maternal grandparents and cousin who live in Winter Haven. Winter Haven is just south of Orlando so we decided to spend the Saturday after Christmas at Islands of Adventure, which happens to be part of the Universal Studios complex.We knew what we were getting into. According to information we found on the internet (which is always correct....) the Saturday after Christmas is THE busiest day of the year for theme parks in Orlando. On our drive down, this information was further enforced after being stuck in horrendous traffic just trying to make it to the IKEA right off Interstate 4. (Side note: Our visit to IKEA consisted of a hurried walk-through of the store while dodging disoriented adults and screaming children). Since neither of us can handle crowds of little more than 5 or 6 people, we decided to spend the night before our theme park adventure strategizing on how we would conquer the rides before the swarms of people descended upon the park.
First, we get detailed instructions on which rides to go to first from Brian's brother, who happens to be a huge theme park enthusiast. Next, we wake up while its still dark outside and get to the park by 7:45 (15 minutes before the opening). From there, we basically run from ride to ride with little to no wait and have basically experienced every ride by 11:00. (i should also mention that by this point I look like a sewer rat between the wet rides and Florida humidity) Right before we leave the park, we notice a bridge where you can insert 25 cents into a machine which then lets you aim and fire a water cannon at unsuspecting riders on the raft ride. This was probably the best part of the day- myself, Brian, and a nearby teenage girl even coordinated to fire all the water cannons at once on a group of people. I know- we're horrible people and deserve retribution, but we ultimately get it at the end of the day.
Before we leave the park, we decide to do one last ride that will most definately get us wet. It's a log ride with a huge descent into waves of water. We figure, "what the hell" since we were leaving anyways. The only question was what we would do with our camera/phones. So I stick both phones in my bra (one in each cup) and we use an empty Doritos bag to secure the camera (resourceful, right?). We got absolutely DRENCHED!! As we left the park, we walked against the masses of people just arriving for the day and noticed everyone staring at us since we looked like total freaks with our dripping hair and wet, clingy clothes. Islands of Adventure pales in comparison to Opryland (R.I.P.), but definately had its moments. Overall, it was a good way to recapture our youth for a day.
Monday, January 5, 2009
Mountain Biking at Lock 4
Back in December on a semi-warm day, Brian and I drove out to Lock 4 in Gallatin where we met our friend Brad for a day of mountain biking. For those of you unfamiliar with Lock 4, it is not for the faint of heart or inexperienced. This is why I am crazy- it was the first time I've mountain biked, ever. To be fair though, I had no idea what I was getting myself into. I just thought I'd be riding in the woods along some nice even trails. Maybe, just maybe, there'd be a challenging hill or a low branch to watch out for. Little did I know I would cheat death several times and nearly destroy my bike in the process.
First of all, they have these things called whoop-de-do's, which are basically these deep U-shaped dips that causes a bike to often go airborne. I didn't get enough speed going before I hit the whoop-de-do, so I ended up almost getting to the top before gravity dragged myself backwards and I ended up back at the beginning. It was like something you would see in a cartoon. I spent the rest of the time getting off my bike and walking through the muddy whoop-de-dos. Below is an example of a Whoop-de-do, but isn't an actual picture of me or Brian:
Also- did I mention that part of the bike trail runs along the edge of Old Hickory Lake? I almost learned this the hard way as I nearly lost control on a hill and tumbled into the icy-cold lake. Several times thoughout the ride, either Brian or me would let out a big "Ooph" as we fell (or ran into a tree) and hit the earth. Autumn leaves make for a nice padded fall.
When we finished up and got back to the car, it was such a sense of accomplishment despite all the challenges and bruises. My reward for all our physical activity was stopping at the gas station and buying Pringles, Laughy Taffy, and a diet Coke, thus throwing out any calorie deficit that I accumulated throughout the day. I'll leave you with a picture of my mud-covered leg.
First of all, they have these things called whoop-de-do's, which are basically these deep U-shaped dips that causes a bike to often go airborne. I didn't get enough speed going before I hit the whoop-de-do, so I ended up almost getting to the top before gravity dragged myself backwards and I ended up back at the beginning. It was like something you would see in a cartoon. I spent the rest of the time getting off my bike and walking through the muddy whoop-de-dos. Below is an example of a Whoop-de-do, but isn't an actual picture of me or Brian:
Also- did I mention that part of the bike trail runs along the edge of Old Hickory Lake? I almost learned this the hard way as I nearly lost control on a hill and tumbled into the icy-cold lake. Several times thoughout the ride, either Brian or me would let out a big "Ooph" as we fell (or ran into a tree) and hit the earth. Autumn leaves make for a nice padded fall.
When we finished up and got back to the car, it was such a sense of accomplishment despite all the challenges and bruises. My reward for all our physical activity was stopping at the gas station and buying Pringles, Laughy Taffy, and a diet Coke, thus throwing out any calorie deficit that I accumulated throughout the day. I'll leave you with a picture of my mud-covered leg.
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