Bike. Run. Climb. Ski
I picked myself up quickly, pedaled hard for a few strokes to gain some speed, and promptly clipped a pedal on a rock and flew over my handlebars – over the exposed edge of the trail – into a thicket of willows. It was like landing on a mattress! I peered over the edge of the willows and said a little prayer to the Goddess of Mountain Biking – it was steep!
My dad and I used to spend the long drives discussing race strategies like, “play opossum for the first few miles,” “put a rascal move on the competition when they don’t expect it,” and, “don’t be a wounded animal when you start to feel tired.”
Public Writing for Professional Purposes
thoughts of a wandering woman
Attempting the extraordinary
interdisciplinary writing at the university for readers besides ourselves at Northern Arizona University, Flagstaff, Arizona
heather schramm-lifestyle photographer
Enemy of rock climbing, ice climber's bane, arch nemesis of the bomber climbing anchor.
Rides in heels, speeds down hills, splashes in puddles and stays out well past dark.
the only certainty is change
