Ponderings

• January 1, 2025
• 4 weeks

New Year’s Eve, New Perspective

I remember lamenting with my siblings a few years back how New Year’s Eve is kind of the worst. “There’s so much pressure to do something spectacular to cap off the year,” my brother pointed out. I had to agree — New Year’s Eve always felt like an afterthought, then would suddenly arrive and impose.

Most New Year’s Eves I’ve had were nothing to write home about. The best one, ironically, was NYE 2019 — as in, right before COVID hit. My middle school friends and I went to one of their family cabins in Vermont, where we went sledding, drank Heady Toppers, played drinking games, and took shotskis. 2020 is our year! We were so wrong. The following year, I had grand plans to go to Vegas with two of my best friends for NYE, which came to a grinding halt when I landed and found out my brother had COVID. Cue me quarantining for the next two weeks in my apartment, alone and restless.

This year, I found myself hating on NYE for another reason: it wasn’t that I felt pressured to do something wild, but rather I found it foolish that people think that NYE is the only time to reflect on the year. It’s kind of arbitrary, isn’t it? Shouldn’t we be reflecting throughout the year? Making resolutions and trying to better ourselves? Why should it all land on one particular day? I was shaking my head at all the people drinking to excess and posting Instagram recaps.

Last night, however, I realized how cynical I was being. I went to a friend’s house for a couple of hours. Not even a close friend, but a friend no less. He and his girlfriend had invited a mix of people, and so while I recognized some faces, it was a mostly unfamiliar crowd. I didn’t really mind it; I can get along with practically anyone. And the more I chatted with folks about climbing and other nonsense and scarfed down incredible caramelized onion dip, I realized it just didn’t matter. Yes, New Year’s Eve can be about celebrating the year past and welcoming a new one in. It can be about surrounding yourself with your all-time favorite people, getting that kiss from the person you love most, engaging in some debauchery, and yes, reflecting. Or it can be a really great excuse to get together with some folks, eat some good food, maybe enjoy a beverage, and go to sleep. I did the latter, and I feel pretty satisfied.

As much as I had been criticizing people for using New Year’s as an excuse to reflect, I’ve recognized it’s as good a time as any to reflect. It doesn’t mean I can’t continually reflect over the year, reassess, reprioritize. The changing of the year just helps package memories neatly — helps you see the ebbs and flows of life in a more succinct way. It makes it less daunting to form resolutions when you’re reviewing 12 months, rather than years and years of successes and failures.

I always have a list of resolutions, from the serious to inane. I took a look at my 2024 resolutions and was pleased to see I actually accomplished most of them: run another ultramarathon; host an oat milk party; visit Steamboat Springs; send a 5.13 outside; complete some house projects. The only ones I failed to do were 1) get sponsored (a somewhat joke, but I honestly really would like to be sponsored) and 2) say “no” more. The latter I don’t think I necessarily failed, but could improve upon. I definitely found myself backing out of things more than I usually do and trying to preserve my capacity (I refuse to flake most of the time, sometimes to my detriment). Still, I want to work on boundary setting more.

One of those boundaries — and 2025 resolutions — is with myself. I have received repeated feedback from loved ones that I all too often play the victim. I never have felt that the world is out to get me, but when setbacks compile, I have a lot of trouble controlling my anxiety — and that anxiety oftentimes gets expressed too much. During one of my first sessions with my therapist, she asked me to describe what my anxiety feels like, visually. I told her it feels like a waterfall — a powerful cascade of problems that can’t stop. Obviously, controlling something that looks and feels uncontrollable seems like a fruitless task. But perhaps what I really need to do is start visualizing hardships as less of a waterfall and more of a storm — something that can feel quite powerful in the moment, but will eventually pass.

I think much of my willingness and ease at expounding upon my hardships to others is because I have a great capacity to hear others vent. For whatever reason, I am often the person people turn to when they’re upset or need to talk things through. I don’t say this as a point of pride; it’s simply a fact. I feel quite privileged to be a person that others feel they can open up to, and as such, I try to be the most empathetic listener I can be. I had the epiphany recently that I am so open to telling people my woes simply because there is no stigma around it for me; I welcome other people’s woes without issue, so why shouldn’t they do the same for me? However, not everyone has that emotional capacity.

That all being said, my other main resolution is to be less hard on myself. I have been afforded so many privileges in this life, but all of my major accomplishments — whether in academia, sport, or my career — have been the result of me working really, really hard. It’s very rare for me to not put 100% in whatever I do. And for that reason, it’s not fair to beat myself up when things aren’t going the right way. While I’m going to try to be very conscientious about when and how I vent — and to who — I’m not going to criticize myself if sometimes I unravel or yes, play the victim. No one is perfect 100% of the time.

Just as I came to the conclusion that New Year’s Eve can be whatever you want it to be, so too is it obvious to me that life in general is the same way. Each day is whatever you want to make of it. It doesn’t always have to be sunshine and rainbows, but we can find contentment daily if we have the right perspective. I strive to make my perspective a more optimistic one.

Ponderings

• December 30, 2024
• 4 weeks

Client-Facing

Still in hot pursuit of a full-time job, my life has become the busiest it has ever been, thanks to the two part-time jobs I picked up. Now a hostess and a seasonal sales associate at REI, I am constantly interacting with human beings and moving around. Though it’s only been a couple of months, I’ve learned a lot about myself, strangers, and the minutiae of running shoes and hiking boots. It’s more than I ever expected.

In both jobs, I’m getting thousands of steps a day. The restaurant where I work isn’t even big, and yet, I comfortably get anywhere between 6,000 and 10,000 steps per shift — and the shifts are usually only 3-4 hours. Likewise, at REI, I’ll usually get 8-13,000 steps per shift, hustling between three footwear “warehouses.” To say I underestimated how physically demanding these customer service roles are would be a gross understatement. What initially felt like an overwhelming amount of physical activity (considering I am always actively training for running and climbing too) now feels relatively manageable. My running coach, David (who ironically I met at REI and now WORK with), commented during my first week, “The time on your feet in this job is awesome!” At least my coach wasn’t worried. I did think to myself the other day: if working these two jobs builds my endurance (long hours, walking/running around, staying mentally active), I’ve got to believe they’ll make me an even better ultra runner.

Working at the restaurant has also improved my finesse. Being around my best friend Ryan, who is very proprioceptive, has made me acutely aware of my clumsy nature. It took almost the two whole months for me to break a glass at the restaurant — and I owe that to my incredibly conscientious effort to NOT break anything. (When I told my coworker Jeremiah this, he responded, “No way! You’re lying.” I think I may have set a record.) I almost always will make two trips to a table to clear glasses than try to take on more than I can. I risk nothing and it has paid off. I still do silly things almost every shift, but at least broken glass has only occurred once.

What I lack in natural finesse, I make up for with non-finicky feet. I failed to appreciate before starting at REI how lucky I am from a podiatric perspective. For the most part, I put on a pair of shoes, and as long as they’re the correct size, I’m good to go. Case closed. But for a lot of folks — most, I’d argue — it is nowhere near that simple. Shoes are too narrow for them. Shoes are too wide. The arch doesn’t hit in the right place. A part of the shoe creates a hot spot or rubs their foot uncomfortably. Maybe they have titanium plates in their feet. The variables are somewhat endless. I feel so grateful that I don’t work on commission at REI, because it means I can actually spend a lot of time with individuals to find the exact shoe that works. And if they aren’t satisfied or don’t buy the shoe, no sweat. The only bummer, honestly, is when the footwear department is so busy that I can’t spend as much time in this capacity. Especially when someone doesn’t know what they want. If someone walks in and says, “I’m looking for a lightweight hiking boot that’s waterproof, mid height, and zero drop,” I can unflinchingly respond. “Awesome. So we’re looking at the Altra Timp or the Altra All-Weather Lone Peaks.” It’s much harder when someone walks in and says, “I need a hiking boot.” Then we’re starting from absolutely square one.

In contrast, at the restaurant, I don’t actually chat with customers as much. I’m mostly finding out their party size and trying to get them seated, in between busing tables, filling water pitchers, and polishing silverware. It’s definitely an imperfect science, both seating people to maximize the restaurant capacity and estimating how long a wait will be. I think I do a decent job but am always trying to improve. The tough aspect of our restaurant is how many “high tops” we have — high tables with tall stools that have no backs. Whenever a group with young kids or elderly folks walks in, those tables are somewhat eliminated. I would say that 70% of folks would prefer a low top, 20% don’t care, and 10% actually want a high top. I have definitely seen many facial expressions darken when I tell people the only available table is a high top. You can’t please everyone.

What I like about the restaurant is that I can put people on pause. At REI, if the footwear department is swamped, I’m assisting up to 5 customers. Five different people requesting potentially multiple shoes and multiple sizes, which may be located in all three different warehouses. Those times, I am nearly running between hiking, running, and casual shoes, circling back on folks, and trying to keep my wits about me. Meanwhile, at the restaurant, if there are no open tables, I just take down a name and number and continue with what I’m doing. I’ll call them when something opens up. There are certainly moments where I feel frantic, trying to simultaneously seat people, provide enough clean silverware and water glasses, and clean tables to get more folks in. But I always know the pace will eventually slow, the dish racks to empty will stop coming, people will stop arriving, and the restaurant will close.

Perks of the jobs? Lots of them. At the restaurant, I get a lot of good free food, plus I get a free beer every shift if I want. I connect with a lot of people who recognize me from the rock gym, and a lot of friends and acquaintances come in. At REI, I get great discounts and pro deals, and there are usually snacks in the break room. REI has also gotten me a discount at the rock gym and free skiing on weekdays at Monarch Mountain! Both jobs fulfill my extroverted nature, talking to so many strangers, and both satisfy my restlessness, too. I love engaging with people and moving around, and my coworkers are genuinely rad. In fact, my REI coworkers are so knowledgeable about outdoor gear that I learn new things from them every single shift. To be surrounded by peer teachers is truly awesome.

The cons? Some are obvious. Neither job pays particularly well, which can be tough at times when they’re both exhausting. Commuting for the first time in my life, I am enormously grateful for the previous remote work I’ve had — it really does cut down on your time. And finally, the lack of benefits — healthcare, PTO, etc. Once again, it makes me way more cognizant of the privilege I had to work full-time jobs with paid vacations, holidays, and regular hours.

That said, I am also grateful for this time of hustling because it’s put so many privileges in perspective; it’s revealed that I’m more suited to in-person work; and it’s shown me that I genuinely like customer service. No matter how stressed I may get during a shift, I never have any inclination to take that out on a customer. Thinking back on poor customer service I’ve received, I’ve tried to be empathetic — maybe the representative I worked with was having a bad day, was going through something, etc. As someone who has been going through some stuff myself, though, I feel like I’ve naturally been putting on a smile for those I serve. I may just need to brush away a tear while roaming the running shelves for that men’s Topo Ultraventure in size 10 or take a deep breath as I receive another dish rack to polish. The hard moments are short-lived when you’re around good people and you put yourself in a good environment.

Though I am unsure if the two part-time job life will be sustainable, I’m proud of myself for making it work as best as I can.

Ponderings

• October 8, 2024
• 4 months

Finding Ourselves

“What a place to find ourselves,” Nate mused.

Since the moment he said the words, I’ve been meditating on the double entendre. We were outside of Crested Butte, on our second pass of three for the day: Copper Creek. Nate had improbably acquired backcountry permits for both Maroon Bells and Conundrum Hot Springs in a single weekend and had invited me along for the latter. We had met up the previous evening, camped near the trailhead, and had hiked roughly 10 miles toward the hot springs — the long, scenic way. When he said, “What a place to find ourselves,” Nate meant that the scenery was unparalleled. Hiking in this area of Colorado during peak foliage season is somewhat unreal. Every viewpoint we got seemed even more pristine; we were practically living inside a postcard. I couldn’t help but feel so enormously grateful.

Still, what nagged at me was the other meaning to his words. While he was pointing out our physical location, I was thinking much more broadly: finding ourselves. Ourselves, as in, who we are. I suppose my mind wouldn’t have gone this direction if it didn’t feel like both Nate and I are at a crossroads in our lives.

Nate, for his part, has a one-way ticket to Kathmandu in less than a week. Theoretically, he’ll be back early March. This decision wasn’t a rash one, but rather the result of a series of setbacks. When we graduated from Colorado College in 2019, Nate got an ostensibly “big boy” job: he worked as the Western Slopes representative of Conservation Colorado. And in this role, he worked faithfully for a solid four years, gaining serious organizing skills and becoming practically the mayor of Durango in the process. A year ago, he decided to step down to work in a field that aligned more with his passions. He quickly picked up work as a wilderness therapy guide, just for the company to go bankrupt this last winter. A few months later, Nate pivoted to raft guiding, just to be told he didn’t work efficiently enough, and then gained employment with another wilderness therapy outfit. He worked his last shift a few weeks ago, feeling utterly burnt out but willing to put in the time that he had promised. Kathmandu was calling.

The fluctuation in work life would’ve been enough for Nate to deal with, but along with it came with constant unraveling plans. Some of his close relationships deteriorated; he got ill before a race he planned to run in August; he had to completely reorganize a rafting trip after several key friends dropped out. While he wasn’t bent out of shape, he did admit, “Literally nothing has gone to plan this summer.”

Meanwhile, I’ve been battling a lack of plans. Finishing a contract job back in June, I have been applying constantly to jobs with what feels like little momentum. I gave myself July and August to frolic around and enjoy myself, fitting in applications where possible, and I did have a heck of a lot of fun. I backpacked, climbed, trail ran, camped, and traveled to my heart’s content. I vowed I’d use the spare time to get sick at climbing and trail running, and I am arguably at my top level in both now. But after all the moving around, the “funemployment” is no longer much fun. I am frustrated and burnt out. I’ve applied to, on average, a new job every three days. And yet — I spend every day trying to add structure and routine to my life and stay upbeat.

My relationships — with my close friends, my town, and myself — all feel in flux. I no longer feel like I know exactly what I want or where I should be anymore. I feel … stuck. And after trying to create movement all this time, I kind of wish the world would just move.

In a lot of ways, I felt like this little backpacking trip was a moment for Nate and I, individually and together, could “find ourselves.” Removed from society and cell service, we could just be. We could cover miles and elevation while hashing out all of the mixed emotions we had about the current state of our lives — and in the most picturesque setting.

Nate’s ready to get lost in his travels. He’s manifesting a journey full of peaks to summit, people to meet, new places to explore. I’m so excited for him, though I’ll miss him a lot — he’s perhaps the most consistent support I’ve had since May, when it felt like most of my life was unraveling.

Me? I’m less certain. I know I’ll keep waking up every day and trying to create movement. One thing I pride myself on, even though it wears me down, is that I can keep summoning motivation even when things look and feel bleak. I guess I recognize there is no other choice. But beyond movement, I think the larger goal is to keep finding myself. Because I think she’s lost.

Ponderings

• September 23, 2024
• 4 months

Do your best. Have fun.

I’ve been living so much in anticipation of events, that I’ve hardly taken any time to consider the events themselves. It really hit me this last Saturday.

All summer, I’ve been training for an event hosted by my climbing gym, CityROCK: Battle Royale. It’s a sport climbing competition that they last hosted in 2019 and in fact was won by Paris 2024 Olympic athletes Natalia Grossman and Colin Duffy. After 5 years, CityROCK had decided to bring it back. It differs from the gym’s typical “Downtown Local” comps in that there’s a cash prize ($500 for first place) and the tie breaker boils down to “the battle route.” Essentially, the battle route is such a challenging route that your goal is just to make it as far as up it possible, not necessarily finish it. If you are the male or female who makes it the furthest, you are automatically put into the finals round. Otherwise, the judges are looking at your top 3 hardest finishes. There are 20 routes, #1 being the easiest/fewest points and #20 being the hardest/most points. You get extra points if you “flash” the route (i.e. finish it on your first try) and additional points if you lead the route, rather than top rope. You get 4 hours to get your 3 routes and the top 8 climbers in each category advance.

In 2019, I was far too intimidated to compete in Battle (and knowing Natalia won, I’m honestly glad I didn’t throw my hat in the ring). But my climbing has progressed so much in the last year, it felt silly not to give it a shot this time around. I climbed hard all summer long — getting on harder routes outside than I had ever attempted, pushing myself on the toughest routes at the gym, and climbing through fatigue and fear. I had being working so hard, in fact, that I hadn’t even really imagined what Battle would actually be like.

In the months leading up, my main concern was that a ton of really strong women from Boulder or Denver would show up and blow me out of the water. While I may be one of the strongest women at CityROCK, CityROCK is just one gym in one town in Colorado. My goal with Battle was not to win; it was to hold my own. I really wanted to make it to finals, at least, and make a decent showing.

When I arrived for the comp on Saturday, after months of worrying about a bunch of adult women showing me up, I was in for a bigger surprise. A lot of incredibly strong kids had come to give Battle a try. When I say “kids,” I mean high schoolers. But not just any high schoolers — high schoolers donning matching North Face USA Climbing hoodies, clearly comp kids who do these contests all the time. They looked not only strong, but serious. All business.

My fellow CityROCKers and I were definitely put through the wringer in qualifiers. For my part, my top 3 routes at Downtown Local comps are usually in the 15-20 range — e.g. I send #15, #17, and #18. This comp was way stiffer. I warmed up on #13, which probably was 5.11+/5.12-. I struggled on #14 and #15. I mercifully sent #16 but had to downgrade to #12 to just get 3 routes. And #12 was no gimme either! My attempt at the Battle route, which one of the setters speculates was 5.13c, was brutal. I wasn’t down about it, though. I was genuinely proud of myself of persevering through these tough routes, and I couldn’t help but laugh with the other CityROCK adults as these kids showed us up.

I was afraid that having #12, #13, and #16 wasn’t going to be enough to get me to finals. But it was more than enough — I got 4th in qualifiers! I’ll take that to the bank for sure, considering I had probably a decade on the ladies who got the top 3 spots. But now came the part I hadn’t thought about: finals would be in front of a large crowd of folks who had paid to spectate. Could I climb well under that sort of pressure? I didn’t know.

Gratefully, there were 3 other CityROCK members who made it to finals: Julie, Wiley, and Jono. Two men and two women from the host gym made it — it felt like we were the home team! The pressure felt a little more manageable knowing that the crowd knew us the best and would cheer for us the loudest. However, that couldn’t ease all of our nerves. As finalists, we were all put in “iso” (isolation) as the crowd filed in. We couldn’t see the routes at all, sequestered in the upstairs training area. As these high schoolers monkeyed around in iso, somehow still full of energy, the rest of us weathered adults tried to stretch and stay warm without exhausting ourselves further.

After we got 2 minutes to view each of the two finals routes, we were lined up. We all had a specific time to be called down to the climbing area, followed by a waiting period before climbing, then climbing itself. Each competitor got 6 minutes per route with a 7-minute break in between. However, before climbing each route, we had to sit in front of the wall, our backs to it, while our fellow competitors were attempting it and the crowd was cheering. To say it was stressful would be an understatement.

Mercifully, based on our qualifying rankings, Wiley and I would go down to the wall at the same time and climb at the same time. In addition, Jono would be climbing his second finals route while we climbed our first. This boosted our morale enormously.

When we got down to the gym floor, the crowd screaming and cheering, I felt overwhelmed with pride and emotion. I’ve never experienced a competition like this before. When I finally got on the wall, for the first time all day, all the jitters went away. I felt strong, controlled, and supported. I had so much fun. Though I didn’t finish either of the finals routes, I am totally satisfied with my effort. And I’ll never forget that halfway up the second route, though he was also climbing, Wiley yelled over to me, “Great job, Sarah!” He got third place — the only non-comp kid to podium.

I don’t know if visualizing finals beforehand would have helped me. The whole experience taught me so much about myself, though — how much I’ve grown as a climber and how much further I have to go. How I deal with stress and pressure and fatigue. How I maintain a positive attitude in light of setbacks. How I perform in front of an audience. What I’m most proud of, though, is how I showed up for myself and my gym. To fall off that second finals route, untie, and run into a big bear hug with Wiley and Jono made me feel such joy that the outcome was practically meaningless.

Before the day even started, I just kept repeating the mantra: Do your best. Have fun. I think I succeeded.