Beyond the Edge

The Latest #OnEverest: They Summited! – See Emily’s Instagram Summit Self-Portrait

Mary Anne Potts — Fri, 25 May 2012 13:51:41 +0000

The Latest #OnEverest – Update #3 – Our Climbers Head for the Summit

Mary Anne Potts — Mon, 21 May 2012 19:03:19 +0000

Running: Hawaii 5-Oh-So-Delicious Recovery Foods

Megan Lund-Lizotte — Mon, 21 May 2012 15:40:01 +0000

Papaya; Photograph by janineomg, flickr

My favorite Hawaiian recovery foods for runners.

As I mentioned in my most recent blog, my husband and I are expecting our first born this fall. In celebration of our lives turning forever upside down (in a wonderful way of course!), we decided to take a “babymoon” to Maui to experience most likely the last of our “just the two of us” jaunts. Come late September, traveling will involve a lot less spontaneity, and more crib-inclusive hotels.

I travel a lot for racing and my husband often accompanies me. The best part about traveling to race, outside of competing, is the opportunity to eat our way through that particular area. Wherever I am in the world, I always get excited about exploring the culinary landscape by munching the way the locals do. Even though Maui comes as a real vacation and not a business trip (race), my desire to dive into this oceanside food scene knows no different. Every time I visit this place, I convince myself that somewhere deep in my bloodline, I am slightly Hawaiian (granted, I do have cousins who live in Lahaina, however, they are not native Hawaiians and I’m actually Scandanavian…couldn’t be further from my suspicion). I love everything there is to eat in this island paradise!

Eating for me is multi-faceted. Not only do I find it exciting to try new foods—and often discover new favorites in the process—but I also eat with an overarching purpose: to fuel/nourish. As a competitive athlete, I treat eating as a means of enjoyment certainly, but also as an important opportunity to fuel my body for the demands I require of it.

Fueling goes so much deeper than just consuming calories! I aim to (and teach my clients to as well) eat nutrient-dense foods that provide nourishment on a cellular level so the body can operate as optimally as possible. In order to run efficiently, our bodies require hydration and also adequate sources of carbohydrates, fat and protein. All three of these categories serve very specific purposes for runners. In short, carbs provide energy, fat helps with joint lubrication, and protein builds and repairs muscle tissue.

The following is a list of my personal “island favorites” that you can find at your local supermarket to help fuel your running more efficiently.

Coconut Water: A natural isotonic beverage, this liquid goodness is full of hydration-optimizing electrolytes minus the loads of sugar other “sport drink” alternatives contain. This stuff is delish all by itself and is packed full of magnesium, potassium and other minerals that help regulate your body’s fluid balance.

Papaya: Not only does this flavorful fruit have a buttery texture, it’s a great source of protein-digesting enzymes that help reduce inflammation, protect against cardiovascular disease and promote alkalinity in the body. Hint: if you want to enjoy a papaya “island style,” cut the fruit in half, scoop out the seeds and spritz both halves with fresh limejuice. Grab a spoon and go at it—yum!

Kona Coffee: I know. This I-can’t-function-without-it beverage gets a controversial bad rap from time to time, however, I’m a firm believer in the benefits coffee has to offer endurance athletes. I like to drink a mocha latte after I run mostly because I like the taste, but also because the milk provides protein for muscle repair, the sugar from the chocolate replenishes exhausted glycogen stores and the caffeine helps with metabolism regulation and glycogen uptake (allows your body to utilize carbs for energy more efficiently). Other touted benefits include alertness (like you didn’t know
that already!), and nervous system stimulation.

Macadamia Nuts: Trust me—you need fat in your diet if you want to run well. It just so happens that macadamia nuts contain a lot of it! Macadamias are a great source of monounsaturated fat (highest percentage of any nut actually). The body utilizes fat for energy needs and lubrication of joints, to name a few. These nuts are also a great source of minerals and fiber. Do you really need another reason to eat these delicious little nuggets?

Fresh Fish: Fish is an excellent and tasty source of lean protein, which for runners, is vital for muscle repair. Not only that, it supplies a wide spectrum of essential fatty acids that regenerate tissues and help construct healthy cells. Mahi mahi is my personal favorite—macadamia encrusted mind you…aloha double whammy!

Megan Lizotte is a decorated elite distance runner and online running coach at www.hgrunning.com. She is a three-time World Mountain Running Championships competitor, two-time Olympic Marathon Trials qualifier, 2011 USA Trail Marathon Champion and 2011 USATF Trail Series Champion. She also became the first American woman to win the prestigious Sierre Zinal Mountain Race in Switzerland. Lizotte is sponsored by Montrail and Mountain Hardwear.

Connect with Megan!
@MeganLizotte
www.facebook.com/meganlundlizotte
www.facebook.com/hgrunning.coaching

OIA: Seeking Suffering and Enlightenment on Rainier

Avery Stonich — Thu, 17 May 2012 15:31:40 +0000

Photograph by Jon Barr

This week I sat down with my coworker David Weinstein, who—despite somewhat limited mountaineering experience—is attempting to scale Mount Rainier in a few weeks. Now, let me be perfectly clear: climbing Rainier is not for the faint of heart. If you’ve ever flown to Seattle, you’ve probably seen this massive mountain rising through the clouds—its domed, icy summit dominates the skyline at 14,411 feet. Rainier is the most glaciated mountain in the lower 48, making it a very technically challenging climb.

To reach the summit, you have to hike nearly 18 miles round trip; climb 9,000 vertical feet with a 40-pound pack; navigate rock walls, snow fields, crevasses, and steep ice; endure bitter cold and howling winds; and hope that the weather gods shine on you. Last year, only half of the people who attempted Rainier actually summited. It’s a mountain worthy of substantial respect. And it’s considered a suitable proving ground on the path to tackling higher, harder peaks.

David is heading to Rainier as part as part of the annual JanSport Rainier Climb Seminar. In 1972, the company started bringing employees, retailers, industry partners, athletes, and guides on an annual climb to gather product feedback. Now in its 40th year, JanSport’s expedition is the longest consecutive group climb on the mountain. Pretty cool.

So is David a supreme adventurer or a glutton for punishment? Well, as it turns out, he’s a little bit of both.

Avery Stonich: Just how much mountaineering have you done?
David Weinstein: Not much, actually. I’ve climbed about half of Colorado’s fourteeners. I’ve traversed plenty of snowfields, done some ice climbing, and have climbed couloirs. But I haven’t done a ton of technical climbing.

A.S.: What are you looking forward to most?
D.W.: Everyone here at Outdoor Industry Association connects with the outdoors in some way. That’s why we’re in this industry. Every place I’ve been in the world, there’s a different feel, a different flavor, a unique connection with the landscape—I find adventure in these connections. I’m excited to be reminded of that timeless feeling that comes from being out in the world in a new and beautiful setting.

A.S.: What are you doing to prepare—physically, mentally?
D.W.: I’m really looking forward to the physical challenge. It will be tough. But I definitely suffer from a masochistic love for exercise, so it should be fun. I‘ve been hiking a lot, carrying a 40-pound pack up some of our local peaks here in Boulder.

Mentally one thing I’ve been preparing for is the fact that I’ll be on a team, and you rise and fall with the strength of the team. I have to be prepared for possibly having to turn around because one of us is sick or hurt or can’t go on.

A.S.: Are you nervous?
D.W.: No, but it’s been said that all Coloradans underestimate Rainier. That’s definitely in the back of my mind. But I’ve got a pretty strong sense of will. I can put one foot in front of the other for a long time.

A.S.: What does being outdoors do for you?
D.W.: Well, I think of fly fishing because it’s one of my favorite activities. It’s a Zen state of mind. You’re so focused on weather, bug hatches, water levels, the landscape, time of day. It’s such a serene experience. Then you have those moments when all you can hear is the sound of a river. You feel remarkably connected and insignificant—insignificant compared to the longevity of our Earth. All trivialities of your life fall away completely. That feeling of inconsequentiality is one of my favorite parts about being outside.

A.S.: How will this expedition feed your sense of adventure?
D.W.: It’s taking me out of my element. I look forward to a new challenge and perhaps being a bit humbled. I’m excited about experiencing a new and wonderfully different place on the Earth. And it’s such a huge mountain. I’m excited to explore such a huge mountain.

A.S.: Do you see this as a gateway to doing bigger, harder climbs?
D.W.: I didn’t think so before, but I’m pretty excited about this. I’m anxious to learn how much I enjoy roping up, climbing with a team, and dealing with those kind of harsh elements. I think it has potential. I’ve been to Alaska enough to be very intrigued by Denali. I don’t have preconceived notions. Ask me again in a month!

A.S.: What do you do at Outdoor Industry Association?
D.W.: I’m the outreach and advocacy manager for OIA. I promote the economic benefits of outdoor recreation to government leaders, and work with the outdoor industry to engage on federal, state and local policy.

Here’s what most Americans don’t realize: We have an amazing national outdoor recreation system in this country. Our hope is that lawmakers and agencies begin to think about and manage public lands and waters as places for recreation experiences in order to enhance this system.

Historically our public lands have been managed for resource extraction and conservation. Recreation has always been secondary. But getting people outdoors inspires them to want to protect these natural places. And recreation has a huge economic benefit as well—to the tune of 6.5 million jobs and $289 billion in retail sales and services annually. We need help our elected officials and government leaders understand how important outdoor recreation is to our economy. This message is carried best by business owners, and it’s my job to recruit more of the outdoor business community to promote the link between ample, accessible public lands and waters and their businesses.

A.S: Are there similarities between your government policy work and mountain climbing?
D.W.: Of course. Moving government policy and climbing mountains both take a lot of preparation, dedication, and work. And the only way to reach your goal is to take it one step at a time. The outdoor industry has a great story to tell. We’re committed to keep plugging away to ensure that we protect America’s natural places and provide outstanding places for people to play.

And of course, with mountain climbing or public policy work, when you achieve your goal, there’s a tremendous sense of accomplishment—and hopefully a lasting legacy for years to come.

A.S.: So there you have it. I think David’s pretty brave. Rainier will be quite an adventure. We’ll check back with him after the climb and let you know how it went. Stay tuned.

Field Tested: “Skishoes” – Altai’s Snowshoe + Cross-Country Ski Combo

Steve Graepel — Thu, 17 May 2012 05:00:58 +0000

Testing the Altai "skishoes" in Washington's Cascades; Photograph by Steve Graeppel

I’m lazy.

That is, I’d rather run 50k than ski it. The simplicity of lacing up and heading out has always been my bias. The rub? I like to play in my sandbox all year long. So I’ve got a small army of skis ranging from AT to Nordic to touring that help me cope until spring. But I still loathe the weight, the amount of gear, and particularly, the time-sucking ritual of strapping and stowing skins.

But I recently had a chance to try out a new pair of boards—Hoks, from Altai skis—that may have me changing my mind. Billed as a combination of snowshoes and cross-country skis, “skishoes” are short (125 cm or 145 cm for the clydesdale or deep powder), wide, and noticeably light (under five pounds for a pair with bindings). The sides have a slight parabolic-cut with a metal edge for durability, but it’s the integrated skin that catches your eye. The theory is you get enough traction to climb, but enough glide to cover ground efficiently. In short, it’s my kind of niche gear.

Altai Hok ski, front and back; Photograph by Steve Graeppel

The skis come with threaded inserts for two binding options: 75mm that fits a 3-pin boot, or a universal binding that can accommodate any boot that has a flexible sole. You can purchase an adapter plate that fits other 3rd party backcountry bindings. Which you choose depends on the boots you have and the terrain your covering; the more serious the terrain the more happy you will be in a boot that can appropriately respond.

Before I took my pair out, I watched videos of people effortlessly genuflecting through backcountry woods. I also watched skiers sitting way back in the saddle, dragging a big pole behind them. Nils Larsen, the co-owner of Altai skis, has spent years researching the birth of skiing. He’s narrowed in on northern Asia—the Altai Mountains, where the Tuwa people have been skiing for thousands of years. Skiers use a long pole (called a Tiak) like a third leg: for balance on the up and as a tripod’s third leg on the down.

My interest was piqued (but I reached for my Lekis instead); I packed my Hoks and headed to the Cascades to give them a try. I had a day to play in the spring mountain snow, so I chose familiar territory. The 30-mile Loowit trail that orbits Mount St. Helens.

Because of my all-day requirements, I mounted the 75mm bindings and reached for my lightweight plastic touring boots. To save time, I packed my skis and boots and ran the solid surface up to the 4800′ mark—passing several backcountry skiers along the way. At timberline, I swapped my trail runners for the boots and snapped into the skis. The skins did indeed slow me down, but the metal-edged, wide base gave me enough speed to zip through the trees with a smile on my face.

On climbs, their shorter length maneuvered easily around tree wells and securely across exposed slopes. When traversing, instead of lifting each step, I simply slid my foot forward. And when I had to dismount to cross the snowless ‘blast zone’, I was able to do so quickly and the skis carried securely without catching a lot of wind.

While the skis had enough float for soft snow, they also had a lot of flex. This was limiting a day prior on Rainier, where skiing through deep powder blanketing sun cupped snow with a 30-pound pack was painfully unpredictable. We ultimately fought with the skishoes more than we hoped. Perhaps the longer, 145 cm would have made the difference.

Finally, they are reasonably priced. At about $200 for the pair and another $50-100 for bindings (depending on if you select 3-pin or universal), they are significantly less than a good AT set up but on par with a quality pair of snowshoes.

Likely geared towards the snowshoer who wants a controlled glide (over the devoutly committed backcountry skier), I’d also reach for them on fast and light trips that start and end low, but bridge spring snow left in the mountains. I’ll certainly be looking for opportunities to broaden my playground.

Everest 2012: Back to Higher Places – Return to Base Camp

Max Lowe — Wed, 16 May 2012 15:43:10 +0000

Everest Base Camp by night. Photograph by Max Lowe

Max Lowe received a National Geographic Young Explorers Grant to document social change in Nepal’s Khumbu region alongside our 2012 Everest Expedition. The expedition is being covered live on the National Geographic magazine May edition iPad app.

A mere day after arriving in Kathmandu I learned I was to return to Everest Base Camp. Climber, photographer, and friend Cory Richards, who had been set to climb the West Ridge of Everest with my father Conrad, had been pulled from the climb for health reasons. Andy Bardon, his assistant, had stepped up to help out, and an extra hand was needed managing media assets and shooting around Base Camp. A golden opportunity had fallen in my lap, and I was on a flight back to Lukla the following morning at 5 a.m.

The helicopter pilots from Fishtail Air wear oxygen while flying up around Everest Base Camp. Photograph by Max Lowe

When I first traveled up the Khumbu with the expedition, I had taken almost a week and a half to reach Base Camp including acclimatizing days. With a little help from Jiban our trip organizer, I was able to secure a seat in a helicopter flying up valley. Terrain that had taken me so many days to cross disappeared behind us in minutes. Seeing the peaks I had looked up at for so many weeks from the vantage of the air was like looking at a new landscape.

Pertemba poses in front of his camp and the ice fall. Photograph by Max Lowe

Back in Base Camp, I jumped right into work with Andy and Sadie Quarrier around camp; helping organize the mountain of images telling the story of the expedition and adding to it. Even though I had left some interviews and people to find in Katmandu for the moment, Base Camp provided one individual who furnished some great insights into the changing cultural landscape of the Himalaya. Pertemba Sherpa, now 64 and still leading treks and expeditions into the high Himalaya, has started a non-profit to support preservation of Sherpa heritage and culture. He has safeguarded his childhood home in Khumjung from development, built by his great grandparents 200 years ago, to remain as a heritage site. He has done so to exhibit the younger generation of his people as well as tourists how far life has come in this region.

NOLS: Are You Fit for Adventure? Three Simple Workouts to do Anywhere

Aparna Rajagopal-Durbin — Tue, 15 May 2012 17:07:59 +0000

Ned Feehally, one of Britain's top boulderers holds a swing on a difficult testpiece in Snowdonia National Park, Wales. Photograph by Nick Brown, My Shot

We adventurers often daydream of climbing rugged peaks, swimming in pristine high alpine lakes, traversing across blue-green glaciers, or trekking along rugged ridgelines with dramatic views … while we’re sitting at our desk eating donuts. Do you feel like reaching for your next adventure is just making your arms sore?

Climber-coach-dad Steve Bechtel in action. Photograph courtesy Steve Bechtel

At NOLS, we’re working with renowned climber and adventure fitness guru Steve Bechtel of Climb Strong to develop a fitness regimen that can get even the couch potatoes among us ready to climb the highest peak in North America in one year. These workouts are being formulated for members of Expedition Denali specifically to train for climbing Denali in 2013, but if you want to follow along with the team you should start now with the following simple exercises.

No gym? No excuse. No weights? No worries. You can do these exercises in your birthday suit on your kitchen floor (although that is not recommended).

Start by gauging your base level fitness with the three tests below, and focus on achieving the listed benchmarks in about a month.

The 3-Minute Step Test
Use this test to assess both recovery ability and muscular endurance in the legs. You’ll need a stopwatch, a 12-inch box, and a metronome. (Don’t have a metronome? Find one online or download one of several apps.) The idea is to step on and off the box, switching legs each step and keeping a regular pace for the entire three minutes. You’ll want to record your beginning heart rate, the total number of steps, and your heart rate one minute after the end of the test.

The Push-Up/Squat Challenge
This is Bechtel’s personal favorite. There’s no timing, just keeping track of reps. Start by doing a push-up—the real kind. This means straight arms down to chest touching the floor. If you can’t do one this way, start with knee push-ups. Do one rep, then stand up and do a full squat. Then, drop for two push-ups followed by two squats. Continue this pattern, without rest, until you fail to execute a rep or need to take a break. Make sure you note the exact details of your push-ups (strict, knee, etc.) and squats.

The 5K Test
Get on a treadmill and cover a 5K as fast as you can. Sounds easy, right? Let’s do it at a 5 percent grade. This will give your legs a better idea of what you’re up against on a mountain. Run or walk or do a combination of both. Then do it with a 10-20 pound backpack.

One-Month Benchmarks:
• You should be able to take a step about every two seconds.
• You should be able to hit 6-7 on the Push-Up/Squat Challenge. Already there? Improve your number over the next month.
• You should be comfortable carrying a light 10-20 pound pack for 4-5 miles on uneven terrain, that should be about right.
• You should be comfortable exercising 2-3 days in a row.

Stay tuned for your next workout in a month!

Highlining to a Stalactite in Koh Yao Noi, Phuket, Thailand – Incredible Photo!

Mary Anne Potts — Tue, 15 May 2012 15:45:50 +0000

Jared Alden highlining on Koh Yao Noi in Southern Thailand; Photograph by Scott Rodgers

See more photos like these in our Extreme Photo of the Week gallery.

“Should I grab the stalactite with my hands or turn around on my feet like a real pro?” recalls slackliner-photographer Jared Alden of this moment on an unusual stalactite highline on Koh Yao Noi island in Phuket, Thailand.

Lured by the country’s unique limestone, ten slacklining friends spent a month in Thailand establishing new climbing routes and highlines—and partaking of the local culture’s fresh, healthy food, world-renowned massages, and friendly scene. “We really got creative with our shenanigans on this trip,” says Alden, who lives with his family in Pennsylvania. “We rigged slacklines at the beach, waterlines off piers and cliffs, high waterlines with tourists kayaking below, and even a highline between the masts of a pirate ship.”

Adventure: What were you thinking at this moment?

Jared Alden: The wonderful thing about highlining is that it facilitates coming down out of thought and into feeling, a state of responsiveness and acting from instinct; this is an activation of kinesthetic intelligence in the brain’s cerebellum (the ancient part of the brain), stopping thought involves shutting down the cognitive processing of the brain’s frontal lobe (a newer part of the brain). It’s like becoming a monkey again, or any wild creature, once you are on the edge of survival you just “do it” without thought of consequences or fear of failure; this for me is most liberating and extremely human in experience.

It usually takes me some serious time on a slackline to pause the dialogue in my head and tap into a deeper state of mind that is best described with Zen Buddhism or the Taoist idea of Non-action. Scott’s photo was taken just a few minuets after I got on this highline for the first time. My thoughts were dying but I do remember feeling these things:

A: Where are you exactly? And why were you there?

J.A.: Onsighting a highline Andy Lewis named “Just the Tip” one short rock climbing pitch from the top of the Big Tree Wall on the northern end of Koh Yao Noi, Thailand. I was in Thailand living the dream as I like to joke with friends back home. Some really stellar friends from the highlining community decided to collaborate on a trip to Thailand based on a very generous invitation from Braden Mayfield. Braden has great resources in Thailand along with years of experience there climbing and scouting epic highlines such as “Just the Tip” – probably the first stalactite highline ever rigged. When you receive an invitation to Thailand from someone like Braden, the guy with all the beta, talent, motivation, and willingness to put up with Slacklife shenanigans you say YES and buy yourself a ticket – even if you have a two and a half year old daughter and a wife in law school.

A: Is it still called highlining if you are over water?

J.A.: We do consider the word waterline to be an accurate description of slacklines rigged over water. In Thailand we played around with waterlines 25 to 30 feet high and walked them without safety leashes. As soon as you tie into a safety leash people start assuming it’s a highline but highliners often discus a true highline as being taller in height than it is long in length – so a 100 foot long slackline 99 feet above the ground is not a true highline. It’s never really mattered to me what people call things; names and terminology aren’t useful as soon as you step out onto a highline. Let’s just say that when you’re highlining super high it doesn’t really matter to you exactly how high you are or what’s actually happening on the ground i.e. water or ground. The reason we highline up high is to feel amazingly one with the universe; there’s no intention to go splat and die on the ground. The element that impacts the highlining experience most is the exposure i.e. how much empty space there is surrounding the highline. It’s harder to maintain focus and balance when one’s vision lacks physicals features to grasp.

A: How did you all secure the highline to this rock formation? Looks a little precarious!

J.A.: We prefer the word sketchy over precarious, and yes perhaps there was an element of sketchy to this highline – not the sketchiest thing that happened in Thailand. In fact, the sketchy meter was quite low in my mind. It really only looks dangerous. There wasn’t enough tension on the highline to worry about breaking off the tip of the stalactite, plus the anchor on the stalactite side was supposedly backed up to another anchor directly on top of the cliff – you can’t see it in the photo because it’s on the other side of the stalactite. Perhaps I was a bit trusting of Andy and Braden’s work but then again they both walked it before me, which is why riggers usually take the first walks I guess. In my mind the only element of danger was if the whole stalactite suddenly decided to fall, that or if Zeus’s lighting bolt hit our highline. For the record, I didn’t rig this highline, nor did I fully inspect the rigging on the far stalactite side of the highline. Andy and Braden did all the tedious rigging on the stalactite side of the highline. It was actually a bit crowded with seven people sized monkeys all wanting to hang out up there. I mainly stayed out of the way and prepared different photography compositions. I’m pretty sure I didn’t even do much to help tension the highline when it came time – we didn’t put that much tension on it.

A: I see you are tethered, but how high are you from the water? Or maybe it’s not water beneath you?

J.A.: It was three or so climbing pitches above the ground, which then became a steep tree-covered slope heading down to the water. It was definitely hundreds of feet high. I honestly don’t know and don’t want to look like a fool making an inaccurate guess. Numbers always seem to multiple in my stories. Go there yourself and see how high you feel – this is my advice.

A: What did you do once you reached the end of the line?

J.A.: I reached out and grabbed the stalactite with my hands, turned myself around and walked across the highline again.

A: What kind of rock is it? Did you all set up many different highlining scenarios on this trip?

J.A.: The rock is magical and most definitely sacred. It’s a type of limestone unique to Thailand. We did everything on this trip: slacklines on the beach, waterlines off piers and cliffs, high waterlines over deep and shallow water, high waterlines with tourists paddling underneath, and of course the highlines. There was this stalactite highline, a tower to tower highline, a highline over an enclosed lagoon, and even a highline between the masts of a pirate ship.

A: What other things did you do on this trip?

J.A.: Made friends with some really cool Thai locals and other travelers, walked across wild vines we tied between branches over the beach, eat amazingly fresh and healthy Thai food, listened to Andy and my brother Preston play guitar, had some mind blowing Thai massages, played my wooden flute, rock climbed, drilled and placed bolts, became a pirate aboard the Dragon Heart for eight days and did a lot of photography throughout.

The one Thailand project I did completely solo was a slackline I rigged covertly in the middle of the night over the roof of the Freedom Bar on Tonsai beach. I got in trouble for it first thing in the morning after walking it both ways for the onsight full-man. The owner of the Freedom Bar forced me to take it down immediately but I cajoled him into giving me one final walk for a photo. The Freedom Bar slackline was anchored maybe 30-35 feet high between two trees and one of the anchor spots was right at a wicked red ant nest just above the bar’s outdoor dinning area. Establishing this anchor in silence, in the dark, in the middle of the night, covered from head to toe in red biting ants was a definite overall trip highlight. After my third and final walk I had to cut the slackline with my knife at the red ant anchor. The second time I faced the biting ants they covered my body quicker and denser, perhaps because it was now daytime, either way it was amusing to watch the ants fall down into people’s coffee mugs as they were eating breakfast and I was getting mauled.

A: How long have you been highlining?

J.A.: I’ve been slacklining for 16 years. My first highline was in 2008 on top of the middle finger of the Hand of Fatima in the Timbuktu region of Mali, West Africa. I was a Peace Corps volunteer in northern Mali 07-09 and that first highline was the sketchiest highline I will ever walk. Highlining is actually very safe but only if you know what you’re doing.

A: You are a photographer. Is it a little funny to be on this side of the lens?

J.A.: Yes, it is funny, hilarious really, but I’m not quite sure I know what you mean by funny. I am happy to be on either side of the camera lens when it comes to highlines. Scott is the same way, both athlete and photographer. Scott’s images of me offer me an outside perspective of myself. My images of Scott offer him the same. When you step onto a highline to face yourself, it’s comforting to know someone, a friend, is going to capture the effort for your reflection.

A: Where do you live and why?

J.A.: I live in my parents’ basement in my hometown, Bryn Athyn, PA. I love saying this because it sounds so weak but really it’s so great. My wife is in law school and it’s just wonderful to be somewhere where we can feel a whole community of family and friends supporting us in all our endeavors. My daughter really loves her grandparents and my wife and I love seeing her develop a strong relationship with them. It’s also easy for me to find all sorts of creative work opportunities here in my hometown. My parents’ basement is a perfect base camp for more international adventures. I also have some unfinished projects here in my hometown.

Everest 2012: Namche to Kathmandu

Max Lowe — Mon, 14 May 2012 15:57:03 +0000

Saying goodbye to my Sherpa family in Namche Bazar. Photograph by Max Lowe

Leaving the Khumbu after such a long and in depth integration into this place and these people was tough, and most definitely disheartening. Saying goodbye to my family was the toughest part of the process. Since being in Namche Bazar and the Khumbu, I had immediately felt that I was part of the family. From cooking dinners together to being invited to family celebrations, they had taken me in and leaving them, not knowing when I might return, left me in a forlorn spirit as I walked down the hill from Namche.

Getting ready to jump on the this Tara Air, Twin Otter to fly out of Lukla, and back to Kathmandu. Photograph by Max Lowe

Crossing expansive suspension bridges streaming with prayer flags and Kata scarf’s over the Dodkossi River, and walking foggy trails amidst patches of sun and misting of rain, my spirits lifted. When I had walked this path before it had been a cold and wizened landscape. Now strolling through lush green pastures of Millet and Bokchoy with dense briers of rhododendrons, erupting in pink and white, it seemed like a different sweep.

After only a days wait in Lukla for good enough weather to fly out, (sometimes people wait for four or five days before plains are allowed to land) I caught my Twin Otter, Tara Airlines flight back to the hustle and bustle of Kathmandu. I met up with good friend Cory Richards who had taken leave from the Everest West Ridge climb because of unanticipated health complications. It was good to see him healthy and well, but it was a bummer to see him having to forfeit a climb he had so passionately prepared for emotionally and physically.

Cory Richards stirs some roasting goat meat at a Nepali BBQ outside Kathmandu. Photograph by Max Lowe

Jiban, our expedition organizer and professional headache manager, invited us out with him to his friend’s countryside house for a goat roast. The outskirts of Kathmandu contrast the dusty and crowded streets of the city with rich green pastures and rolling hills covered with lush forest. Sitting atop a hill in the middle of nowhere, we enjoyed beers and rich Nepali food cooked over a wood fire. It felt good to be back in the lowlands. Tomorrow beginning my work connecting with a handful of people for my project and the head of conservation for the Khumbu.

The dirty streets of Kathmandu lack the pristine feel of the mountain cities of the Khumbu. Photograph by Max Lowe

Running: Finding My Happy Pace in a Healthy Balance

Megan Lund-Lizotte — Fri, 11 May 2012 18:18:06 +0000

Megan Lund-Lizotte became the first woman to win the Sierre-Zinal in Switzerland in 2010.

Anyone who knows me might say I eat, sleep, and breathe running. And yes, it’s totally true. However, my life as a professional distance runner and running coach reaches far beyond the seemingly apparent expectation that all I do is run, fuel, recover, and teach others how to then run, fuel and recover!

Running has become so much more than my profession; it’s my lifelong passion and vehicle for exploring the Earth’s incredible landscapes and fascinating cultures. Because of my international racing experiences and success on the trails, not only have I been blessed to see some beautiful places, but I’ve also gained a wealth of knowledge about how important it is to balance competing with living a satisfying and diversified life.

I’ve never really thought I fit into the “professional runner mold.” Not only do I not have the leg-speed Shalane Flanagan throws down—nor the salary to go along with that much-deserving kick—but I don’t possess the sheer intensity and monotonously linear mentality when it comes to running outside of, well, running. I’ve spent too many anxiety-inducing nights before road races listening to my fellow elite female roommates-for-the-weekend yak about their latest injury, all the food they ate that day that they shouldn’t have, and their PRs (personal records) that are insanely fast (and they know it) that they proceeded to tell me are slow. It was exhausting listening to these incredibly talented young women—who I was already intimidated by—talk about nothing but running and how it permeates and dictates every action of their lives. I found myself desperately clinging to my seemingly one standout stat of being the 2007 #1 USA-ranked female marathoner under the age of 25, trying to convince myself that yes, I was legitimately good enough to go head-to-head with these women.

These championship road-race experiences prompted me to question my approach to training and racing … maybe I wasn’t committed enough to running? Was that why my quads were bigger than everyone else’s? Because I wasn’t committed to running and living in a robotic-like way? Maybe if I really did eat, sleep, breathe running I’d be faster … and able to give Shalane a run for her money. I love running, but just because it’s what I spend the majority of my time doing, doesn’t make me just a runner. Don’t get me wrong, I take training and racing very seriously, and am willing to push myself beyond my capabilities, but verbally one-upping my competitors before the gun even goes off isn’t a race I care much about winning.

Over the last few successfully competitive years of my running career, I’ve decided that running truly is incredibly individual and my prior efforts of trying to squeeze myself into the professional runner mold were only holding me back from succeeding in the area I was really cut out for: mountain and trail running. It was off-road and in the uphill direction where I found my niche; my “happy pace.” Those bigger quads of mine were actually beneficial all along.

Traveling to race in countries such as Switzerland, France, Albania, Italy, and others exposed me to so many different types of people—yes, people, not just runners. My competitors actually live lives outside of training and racing: they drink wine, eat chocolate cake, read magazines other than Runner’s World, and have real relationships and meaningful experiences outside of their successes in the competitive running sphere. I’m by no means pegging USA distance runners as misguided in their approach to training, but for me it took some international trail racing to realize that winning races and living a fulfilling life weren’t mutually exclusive concepts.

I’ve come to realize that becoming a great runner is a journey, but it doesn’t mean I pack my bags and leave the rest of my life at home. It just took me a handful of nerve-wracking road races to realize that my personal life and passion for running can and should share the same course. A healthy balance between the two is achievable and necessary; as I want to pursue a long-lasting, legacy-leaving running career, yet at the same time make time for intentionality. It’s important to me to explore my other interests: world cuisine, design, gardening and most importantly making quality time for meaningful relationships, specifically, my husband and our baby-on-the-way.

So while outwardly it might appear as though I eat, sleep, and breathe running, I’m also obsessed with real French macaroons, I’d like to someday stay in a treehouse in the tropics, and I can’t wait to be completely speechless when I meet my first-born this fall.

Connect with Megan!
@MeganLizotte
www.facebook.com/meganlundlizotte
www.facebook.com/hgrunning.coaching