Ponderings

• May 7, 2025
• 5 days

Spite is a Great Motivator

It’s been raining. Kind of a lot. When they say that Colorado gets 300 days of sun a year, it’s not an exaggeration; in fact, sometimes it feels like more. It’s weird when it rains here, so when it rains several days in a row … it’s downright upsetting. I was doing alright initially, but the weather really does affect my mood. I’ve felt mopey and down the past few days when nothing is wrong.

I could see the weather coming in on Sunday afternoon, and I made a comment to a customer checking out at REI. He responded, “I actually love this weather. I love how it makes for a quiet ambience.”

“So does my best friend. He likes that it gives him the opportunity to wear cozy clothes indoors but also sick rain gear outdoors.”

“Ha, so it’s a sort of aesthetic thing for him?”

“I suppose so.”

I need to work to make my rainy day aesthetic not scream “sad girl spring.”

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I serve a lot of couples at both of my jobs. For the most part, the dynamics amuse me — there are distinct archetypes. At REI, there’s the male partner who comes in and tells me exactly what sort of hiking boot or running shoe his female partner needs, without her getting so much as a word in. Despite it being her feet, he knows best. There’s also the male partner begrudging that he has to buy new shoes, with his female partner trying desperately to get him to just try a pair on. The male usually insists he doesn’t even know his shoe size, to which she replies, “You’ve always been a size 10!” I hope I am never one half of ones of these couples. But then there are the couples who are buying shoes for one or both individuals in earnest. These couples will tell me each other’s entire shoe stories. She’ll inform me how he’s always worn Hoka Bondis, but she thinks he might branch out to the Hoka Gaviota. He’ll tell me how she’s got a pair of Oboz Sawtooths that she’s worn for the last 10 years. Did you know they’ve been REI members since 1983? These are the couples who really warm my heart.

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This is the last bit I will write about REI because I am honestly burnt out scanning pant sizes and telling people that we moved all the “Garage Sale” items to the west building.

It genuinely cracks me up when someone will come up to me and ask, “Do you work here?” No, I just willingly chose to wear a green vest covered in disparate pins and put a radio in my ear that will inevitably fall out. Of course I work there! I am as stereotypical as REI employees come — flannels, Blundstones, beanies, a Melanzana. But part of me thinks that I also just come off as a person who WOULD willingly choose to wear a green vest covered in disparate pins and put a radio in my ear that will inevitably fall out.

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I recently wrote about how I’ve developed this new level of equanimity that truly lets everything just wash over me. It actually worked in a super powerful way last week.

I was driving, halfway to Boulder, when my dashboard lit up like a Christmas tree. I had to make a meeting, though, so I soldiered on and decided I’d figure it out when I got there. I had my meeting, then went to O’Reilly to have the code reader see what was up. It was nothing. My gas cap was supposedly loose, which made the dash light up. No sweat. Unfortunately, I didn’t have the O’Reilly employee reset the code, so I’d have to live with all the flashing for a few days until my oil change — which I had ironically scheduled before the drive to Boulder. I could live with that.

A couple of days later, I was driving home from Denver when a rock hit my window. It left a little nick in the windshield, but I brushed it off. I’ll see what I can do Friday. Usually, any crack in my windshield will drive me to distraction. The next day, it rained on and off. I got in my car, and it suddenly occurred to me: the lights on the dash had disappeared. By themselves! Who knew a 2009 Impreza could figure out its problems all on its own?! And then I looked at the windshield to see that the rain had washed away the “nick” — it wasn’t actually a crack, just a mark. I’m going to try to remember this the next time I want to get panicked or frustrated about literally anything.

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Toothpaste is one of those things that you never think you’ll need to buy more of, until the tube is mysteriously empty. It happened to me last week. I am relentlessly cheap, so I buy a $2-ish tube of Colgate. The best part of this toothpaste is not the price, but that it literally says, “Great Regular Flavor” on the box.

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I was recently on a climbing trip with a bunch of friends, including Jonathan (“Jono”), a skilled climber and potter but also classic 22-year-old. I say “classic” because he brought no food or camping equipment, despite the group agreeing on everyone bringing their own lunch as well as sleeping bags, tents, etc. Though his age comes out like this, he said a couple of things that made me stop — because he said them so casually, but they were actually kind of profound?

The first time came when our friend Brit was attempting a pretty stout boulder problem. Brit has been training like hell, so we felt pretty confident he could send this one. There was just one move on the problem that felt like a tall order. Brit attempted it with improbable beta, to which Jono reacted, “There’s NO WAY that beta is going to work. You’ve got like a one in a thousand chance of getting it that way!” Well, two tries later, Brit successfully did the move (and cursed Jono under his breath). Jono promptly apologized, and quipped, “Spite really is a great motivator.”

As quick as that comment was, I have been thinking about it ever since. How many things have I done out of spite? Countless! It usually stems from being told I can’t do something because I’m a woman — I resent it so much that nothing will stop me from doing that very thing. It may not be the healthiest way to live, but it sure gets sh*t done.

Later, while we hiked out of the boulder field in the dark, our headlamps showed a fine mist encompassing us. “Is that dust?” our friend Casey asked. Jono replied, “It could be — the world becomes a much dirtier place when you hold things up to direct light.” If you read deeply into that sentence … damn.

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As a Nuggets fan, the first round of the playoffs was a harrowing experience. I’ve had it easy the last couple of years, us practically sweeping the first round without issue. To go 7 games against the Clippers, so evenly matched, was exhausting. I question how I made it to the finals two years ago. How many beers did I drink watching this team? How many hours did I agonize in front of the television?

I asked these questions after watching us close out the series at the bar. I was at my workplace, since I knew my fellow coworkers, also Nuggets fans, would be there. (And I could have a discounted beer.) After the game, we went straight into watching the Avalanche play in their own game 7, just to blow a 2-0 lead in the last 10 minutes and lose 2-4. As we all yelled and cursed at the TV, a guy a couple seats down from me — a regular I recognized — declared, “You know guys, sports just have to end!” All of us naturally booed at that, but he stood his ground. “I mean, think about it! We spend all this time following these teams, getting upset when they lose, feeling anxious the more they win. Sports just need to end and then we can just enjoy our summers!” I had to admit, he had a point.

Ponderings

• January 1, 2025
• 4 months

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 months

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.