To all those people commenting on social media about how women ask to be catcalled based on their attire, here’s what Kait and I were wearing: loose-fitting pants layered with loose-fitting shorts and topped off with puffy jackets. But I shouldn’t be expected to describe our clothes. In fact, the only situation in which I should be expected to describe what we were wearing would be if Search and Rescue was involved with saving us from hypothermia. Then, yes, the SAR team would deserve to know what kinds of layers we were bumbling around in at seven thousand feet on Christmas Day.
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.”
Irreverent Advice #2: Sometimes, it’s okay to flirt the same way you did when you were twelve. Sometimes, it’s okay to kick a little ass in order to get the attention of the person you’ve been crushing on forever. As climbing partners, my boyfriend and I just weren’t that compatible. He loves bouldering and sport