Giving Chicks

It's time for a quick Heifer round-up!

Thanks so much to everyone who commented to help raise money for Heifer International! It was fun to hear from so many new folks, and by the end of the day on the 24th, we had 35 comments.

Of course a few of you commented late, and while I'm all about teaching my students adherence to deadlines, I can let it slide for a good cause. (Although, Claire, I'm really only counting one of your comments. I'll do my best to help you complete your goal, though!) Also, Rae earned a response comment from me for referencing Fox Mulder, but I didn't see her comment in time to meet the deadline, so there's one more comment we would have had. (For future reference, all mentions of sexy nerds, especially 90's-era sexy nerds, get extra points.)

So, with approximately 38 comments, I decided we could donate two flocks of chicks at $20 a flock.

Since I have been begging my husband for years now to build me a chicken coop, I have a special affinity for chickens. He finally said yes to them, but the distance between agreement and any action happening is often rather far around our house. That's okay, since chickens are probably quite messy and smelly, and difficult to keep safe from the dogs, bears, and coyotes that frequent our yard, and I'm aware that I'm probably more in love with the idea of chickens than the reality of chickens. This way, I get to buy chickens for someone else!

I'd call it a fun and successful, venture. Nathan raised $500 on his blog, and with another 17 bloggers participating besides ours, he estimates the total raised to be about $1500. Thank you, Nathan!

Upcoming on Daily Adventures, I've got my own "Best of 2010" post in the works, along with a number of other pieces, but it looks like none of that will make it up until 2011. (Turns out, being on vacation is busier in some ways than being at work.)

Have a Happy New Year, everyone!

'Twas the Night Before

Before I get to the merriment, one quick reminder: You have until midnight tonight to comment on this post and help me raise money for Heifer International. If you haven't commented yet, I'm here to tell you that Santa is watching!

And now, for your holiday reading pleasure ... a couple of stories I truly enjoyed this week:

*Via Janet Reid, Bill Cameron's Practical Christmas. Simply awesome. Just click on the link and go read it, please. In fact, I think I'm going to go read it again.

*The Year Kenny Loggins Ruined Christmas, from Allie at Hyperbole and a Half. If you haven't seen this one yet, you're missing out. Laugh-out-loud, tears-streaming-down-the-face hilarious.

Happy Holidays!

Sunrise from the top of Mt. Lincoln, Sugar Bowl resort, California.

Giving (Cows)

When we last left our heroine, she was pondering giving. Emotional giving, to be specific. And yes, I’m still pondering.

Meanwhile, however, I’ve been noticing instances of more tangible giving, which, let’s face it, does offer some emotional rewards.

For example, yesterday I was out in my driveway at 7:00 A.M. facing the most monstrously ugly of all gigantic snow berms. The wet, mucky feet of snow from the road, which had been packed down and driven on by cars all day, was finally scraped up by the plow in the middle of the night and deposited … where? In my driveway. Of course. The subsequent drop in temperature meant that I had large boulders of ice cemented together in a mountain whose summit reached just over the hood of my car. Clearly I had done something to offend the county plow driver.

But, alas. This is life. If only I had gotten up 45 minutes earlier, I might not have been there, huffing and puffing with my shovel, red-faced and sweaty in my desperation to dislodge recalcitrant icebergs. But it was extremely important that I get my car out of the driveway immediately.

IT WAS A POWDER DAY!

And suddenly, there was my neighbor, Bill. Bill runs a plow service, and is contracted by various other neighbors to plow their driveways. And while he was on his way to one of those houses, he paused, put his plow in reverse, and scooped away my entire berm. Now that is giving, people! It took him 30 seconds, and he saved me a morning full of frustration. (A morning of good cross-training, too, I know. But powder skiing is much better cross-training!) Needless to say, I’ll be checking to find out Bill’s favorite brand of bourbon.

Another revelation about giving came from John and Hank Green’s Project for Awesome. In addition to being the author of two of my favorite YA books of all time, (Looking for Alaska and Paper Towns), John has a massive presence on the internet, along with his brother Hank. Specifically, they have a mighty popular youtube channel. Every year they utilize this presence to raise money for charity in their Project for Awesome. I'll refrain from explaining all the details of how it works, but their basic idea is that by working together, we (as in, all of us) can do amazing things. This year, they raised $100,000 for charity, all from small donations. Yup. That’s awesome all right.

Just to repeat: If we all work together, we can do amazing things.

And finally, in my observations of giving, I saw that my favorite author-blogger is running his own blog-fundraiser for Heifer International.

First of all, what a great name, right? I love Heifers.

Second, here’s what they’re all about (from the HI website): “Heifer International is a global nonprofit with a proven solution to ending hunger and poverty in a sustainable way. Heifer helps empower millions of families to lift them out of poverty and hunger to self-reliance through gifts of livestock, seeds and trees and extensive training, which provide a multiplying source of food and income.”

They give cows to needy people! And llamas! Llamas are very popular right now.

(Photo courtesy of Heifer International / Darcy Kiefel)

Also, they give goats.

It’s an excellent organization, and I’m excited to be a tiny little part of the fundraising. You can be a part of it, too! Following Nathan’s example, I (along with my awesome, agreeable husband) pledge to donate $1 to Heifer International for every comment you leave on this post between now and midnight on Christmas Eve. So, comment away!

Of course, I do have a financial ceiling for this donation, (which I won’t share with you, so as not to discourage comments) but let’s see if we can reach it. If you’re a lurker around these parts, now’s the time to come out of the woodwork.

You can only comment once, but if you make a comment worthy of a response, I’ll also donate a dollar for my response comment. (Hint: Ask me questions!)

In your comment, please tell me:

a) Your name
b) The corner of the planet in which you reside
c) (optional) A goal or wish for 2011


Remember Anne’s comment from my last post? Let’s see if she’s right.


And finally, my own wish for 2011 is that we all work together.

Christmas Wishes

I had just gotten off the phone with my sister who’d been telling me about her youngest son, four-years-old. It was a typical kid-story for this time of year. He’d industriously taken a stack of newspaper ads, cut out all the pictures of things he wanted for Christmas, and taped them neatly to several pieces of paper, announcing this as his Christmas list. I didn’t ask exactly how long the list was, but judging from my sister’s tone of exasperation, it sounded lengthy.

“Then he walked around the house all morning saying, ‘This is what I’m getting for Christmas!’ as if it were a done deal!” I could almost see her eyes rolling over the phone. “Every day he has a new list. I told him ‘You better start thinking about giving, or I am canceling Christmas!’”

I snickered at this, a classic, and empty, parental threat.

But Christmas lists and letters to Santa are a childhood tradition, and during that afternoon’s run I found myself contemplating a “Letter to Santa” blog post, in which I requested from Santa the following: 1. My motivation, 2. Entries into my chosen lottery-impacted races (Cool and Miwok), and 3. A new bladder for my hydration pack, which, after a month of abandonment, I had re-discovered the day before was still leaking.

As my mind wandered, I started thinking more sincerely about what I really wanted in my life, what was important to me. I thought about choices I’d made and things I might have done differently. Suddenly, my humorous blog post had taken a decidedly more serious, and personal, tone. My letter to Santa began to sound more and more like a prayer.

Sometime later, I was walking a group of my students to after-school care when a 5th-grade girl posed a question to the group, “If you could be any age for the rest of your life, what would it be?”

Yes, these are the kinds of questions 5th-graders often pose, and frankly, I enjoy the conversations that ensue (at least, when we’re not in class).

I think my answer was something like 24. Maybe 27. “But with the knowledge and life-experience I have now,” I added hastily. I couldn’t commit to just one age. (Obviously, I take these questions entirely too seriously.)

“Mine is seven,” she announced confidently.

“Seven?” I was incredulous. I could barely even recall myself at that age.

“Yeah,” she nodded, “that’s the most fun age.”

I thought about the 2nd- graders I worked with in Homework Club after school. They were adorable, but I was pretty sure I didn’t want to trade places with any of them.

Childhood looks blissfully simple to an adult, but even though their world is smaller, I think it’s at least as scary and confusing at times as ours. Maybe harder, even.

I saw a boy of about seven walking through the grocery store with tears silently streaming down his cheeks. At that particular moment, I felt very much in solidarity with this boy, and I found myself envious of his childhood right to cry in public without evoking comment. Children get a pass on public displays of emotion, while grownups are expected to contain them. Being a little contained has its obvious upsides, of course, but I still envy children sometimes.

I realize though, that my empathy for the grocery-store-boy was somewhat of an outlet for my own emotion. I so often feel like a child myself; it makes sense that they can be the ones with whom I frequently identify and connect.

Their ability to speak in simple terms, to show every single thing they’re feeling, lies in direct contrast to the complexities and restrictions of adulthood. Seeing them run around the schoolyard with their hearts on their sleeves reassures me that others do indeed feel wrought by the difficulties of daily life, as I do. And at the times that I can offer them any comfort, it tends to lighten my own burdens.

Perhaps this is one of the benefits of maturity? The ability to empathize allows us to connect with others. It keeps us from feeling quite so alone in this world.

My husband asked me what I wanted for Christmas today. The reality is that I don’t really need anything. My sister is right – I should think about giving. (Otherwise I may have to cancel Christmas on myself!)

I’m not talking about that traditional “volunteer-your-time” or “give presents” kind of giving. I’m thinking more about emotional giving. I feel so constantly barraged by the neediness of those around me, and yet, I am equally bereft. I know from experience that giving comfort can be likewise comforting to the giver. St. Francis was right, I’d say: In giving, we receive.

So it seems I went from Christmas list, to prayer, to New Year’s resolution all at once. That’s not unusual of me, actually. But regardless of label, “giving” seems to sum up my Christmas wish rather nicely– To let go of my child-like needs that are so self-focused, and instead embrace my adult abilities to empathize and connect, to comfort, to give. To love.

I’m not sure exactly how these thoughts will manifest themselves into actions. I suppose I’ll keep them at the forefront of my mind and simply wait for opportunity. I don’t want it to be merely a nice idea, and in this case, I think I’m the only one that can make my wish come true.

Meanwhile, I think I’ll call my sister to ask what I should get my nephew for Christmas. (Assuming it isn’t canceled, of course.)

Just in Case You Already Committed to Crewing for me at Western States

This video speaks for itself.

And since I'm on the running-writing-comparisons theme, here's one for you incase you were considering trying to write and publish a book:

What Runners can Learn from Writers

I simply love it when I recognize my own thoughts in someone else’s writing– when I jump up from my couch while reading and shout, “Yes!” while my dog lifts his head in lazy surprise, mildly concerned at my joyous exclamation.

This was just the scenario today when I pulled up Nathan Bransford’s blog to find a post entitled, “The importance of Exercise for Writers.” (Reason #122 to love Nathan, if you’re keeping track.)

He submits that exercise helps stimulate the creative mind. Having spent a week one summer in a seminar on brain-based research for educators, I’m aware that there’s some actual science behind this idea. (But in an attempt to avoid digression, I’ll consider those details as a possible topic for another post.)

Nathan concluded his post with the acknowledgment that, in fact, he is happier in general when exercising. To which I can only respond with resounding affirmation. (See previously mentioned, dog-startling yell.) If you read my post from yesterday, you'll know these were exactly the thoughts marinating in my own brain.

It may come as no surprise that I find mind and body are the yin and yang of our very existence. It’s a theme to which I return often, and one on which I have plenty more to say.

But with Nathan’s specific blog post in mind, it occurs to me that runners and writers have a lot to offer each other. So, fellow runners, consider the following bits of advice, given to and received by many a writer. You may find that your writer-counterparts are pursuing an activity not so different from your own.

Five Lessons Runners can Learn from Writers

Visualize

As a writer, if you can’t picture it, you certainly can’t create a world that your reader can visualize. Writers visualize it all before they make it happen on paper. It’s even better if we can hear it, feel it, smell it, etc. Planning makes things turn out so much better.

As a runner, visualizing your goal race as you would like to see it happen will give you a better chance of making it happen. No, you can’t just visualize your way to a win, but it sure can help. Ever hear of a self-fulfilling prophecy? That’s the power of positive thinking. (Or the power of negative thinking, if you let yourself go down that road.)

I’ll never forget in high school being at a championship race with my cross country team. Our coach had us visualize the race the day before, made us tour the course so that we could, and even had us go so far as to gather on the podium (already set up) as if we had won. Guess who was among the podium teams the next day, despite the fact that we hadn’t even been ranked in the top ten?

Mix it Up

As a writer, there is such a thing as boredom and fatigue. There is such a thing as feeling stuck, frustrated, unmotivated. When this happens, I give myself a break from my current project and write something completely different, with no purpose beyond that of being fun. Maybe it’s a writing exercise, a poem, a character sketch or a journal entry. Sometimes I write with my students. Whatever it is, I give myself the freedom to enjoy it with no pressure or expectations. My brain just needed a different track for a while.

As a runner, those symptoms of boredom, fatigue, frustration or inertia may also sound familiar. Changing your routine can go a long ways toward maintaining your training. In order to stay motivated without easing up on your workout quality, try things like new workouts, new trails, or even running at a different time of day. It’s amazing what critters might be out at dawn that you miss in the afternoon, or what the evening moonlight looks like on the snow.

Set Goals and Make a Plan to Achieve Them

Given the abundance of running metaphors out there, this one might be advice from the runner to the writer. For all parties, goals should be specific (“I want to run a 3:15 road marathon” not “I want to run fast”), tough but still attainable (“I want to finish a 100 miler” not “I want to break Ann’s record at Western States”) and measurable (“I want to write at least 10,000 words on my novel this month” not “I want to write more”).

And of course, if you don’t have a plan, it’s a lot tougher to arrive at your goal. When exactly will you do this training/writing? Before breakfast? After work? How many days per week? Can you do more on the weekend? Write it down. Make a schedule or training plan, and you’re much more likely to get out the door with your running shoes on every day.

And in case you don’t know, it’s not nearly as important what you do on race day as it is what you do every day between now and race day.

Find Friends

Writing can be a very solo pursuit. Something that can, in fact, drive a person nuts. Writers have figured out that having a writing circle not only gets you great feedback on your writing, but also supplies you friends with whom you can share your process, ideas, inspirations and sorrows. Knowing others have a shared experience can certainly keep the crazies at bay.

As a runner, these friends take the form of training partners, running clubs, online connections and even fellow racers. Before I met other runners in my town, I signed up for races just so I wouldn’t be running alone! Training partners can push you, keep you company, keep you safe, and get you out the door just by saying, “I’ll meet you at the trailhead at 5!” Because you share a passion, they often times become some of your best friends.

Do it Because You Love It

This is actually another one known better to runners, but I read it everywhere as advice to writers. Maybe that’s because so many writers expect to be the next Stephen King. As runners we’re pretty aware that there’s no real glory in this thing, and certainly no money. People who pursue these activities for reasons other than love eventually become bored and move on to mountain biking, or P90X, or grad school, or guitar lessons.

For the rest of us, we may as well take a deep breath and settle in for the long haul. A marriage of this sort can take a lot of work, but is as rewarding as it is challenging. True love lasts a lifetime, and I’ve got a long pair of legs that yearn to move and a brain full of thoughts that need to be purged.

Fatigue is the Heart of Poetry

In my years of running I have found that taking time off is important. After long months of training and racing I eventually reach a point of mild burnout where I simply don’t feel like running anymore. It’s important for my mental and spiritual health to acknowledge those feelings by heeding that desire to sleep in and take it easy. I take anywhere from several weeks to several months off every year.


In the same way that a day of rest during a week of your training cycle actually makes you stronger, a chunk of rest during your year can prevent burnout as well as injuries. Rest, however, can reach its own point of burnout.


The title of this post comes from a friend of mine who is a runner and poet. If he is right that fatigue is the heart of poetry, and I have every reason to agree, then I have been living a life devoid of poetry lately. Given how I’m feeling right now, this makes perfect sense. It also explains why, in the last two days, I have run more miles than I did in the preceding four weeks. (I won’t say how pathetically few miles that was, but I will say that it’s pretty easy to run more than zero miles.)


Last week was one of my worst in recent memory. I couldn’t cope. I tried to get out the door on multiple occasions for a run and I was simply too distraught to lace up my shoes. Finally, Friday afternoon rolled around, and as much as I just wanted to escape to my car after work and go home, awash with relief that I had held it together for one more day, instead I forced myself to change into my running clothes and head out on the trails for an easy 5 miles.


It actually wasn’t all that easy, and I can’t even say it was that much fun. I felt slow, and weak. I did not feel like a runner. But what I did feel was just a tiny bit better. Not much, but it was enough.
And that’s why I forced myself. Because after doing this for several decades, I’ve learned a few things. Yes, time off from running is important. Getting back to running is even more important, and sometimes much more difficult to do.


Running is many things to me, but right now I’m recalling what a stabilizing force it is in my life. Running fights depression. Running helps me to think more clearly, as I sometimes work my problems out best while in motion. Running can also be an escape from those problems. Running provides structure to my life and helps me keep the various parts of it organized. Running makes me feel like I accomplished something, even if it was only to get my running shoes on and get out the door. Sometimes that’s a feat worth being proud of.


Perhaps another benefit of time off is that it helps me to appreciate my time spent training and racing, rather than taking it all for granted. After all, absence makes the heart grow fonder.


Needless to say, I think my off-season is over.

Journey to Zion: A Runner's Account

"A man can worship God among these great cathedrals as well as in any man-made church"

- Isaac Behunin, Mormon pioneer

At the edge of the town of Springdale, UT, just before the entrance gate into Zion National Park, there is a little coffee shop where sunlight streams in the windows and people sit at the handful of tables, clutching steaming mugs while they plan the day's adventures. That morning, Jamie and I were among them, and we lazily devoured breakfast burritos and sipped coffee while reading through the information on our planned hike for the day: The Narrows.

"Do you really think we need all this gear?" I asked skeptically, looking up from the brochure. "Waterproof pants? And special boots?"

Jamie shrugged and took another sip of coffee.

We'd come to Utah to run through Zion Canyon after last year's trip left us both touting its wonders to anyone who would listen. If you're going to name a place Zion, it had better have some spectacular offerings, and I have to hand it to the early settlers of Utah: They got this one 100% right. There are few places on earth as captivating as the red walls of Zion National Park.

We had one more day before our planned group run, and I wanted to see a part of the park we wouldn't get to see on our run.

We discussed other options for our hike. Maybe a hike that would be less complicated than walking up a river through a narrow canyon?

"Let's just do it," I finally declared.

"I mean, we're here, right?" Jamie agreed.

It was absolutely the right call.

The Virgin River flows down from the high country, slicing through the earth and winding its way out the mouth of Zion Canyon. Our path would take us upstream from where the trail ends, through the walls of an ever-narrowing canyon. There's a reason this is one of the more popular and well-known hikes in the park, but since it was a Friday and not peak-season, the crowds turned out to be minimal.

Once in the park, we walked down the easy trail in our too-big dry-pants, clutching walking sticks and full of bright anticipation. After a mile or so, our trail came to an end, and other hikers found themselves forced to turn around. We felt like grand adventurers as we left the trail and stepped boldly into the icy waters of the Virgin River.

Unlike moving on a trail, walking through the Narrows is slow and requires thoughtful choices about each footfall. As we picked our way upstream, we constantly crossed back and forth from one side of the river to the other, using our sticks for balance. At times, the water was thigh-deep, and other times, we could hit a dry bank on one side and scramble over the rocks.

All the while, the red walls closed in, giving us the feeling that we were headed deep into the Earth itself.

To say we were enjoying ourselves would be a vast understatement.

After the magic of last year's Zion trip, I knew it would be difficult for this sequel to live up to my expectations. Attempts to recreate a perfect experience can so often end in disappointment. It was already apparent though, that no such fate would befall this weekend.

The canyon became colder and darker as we continued our casual pace upstream. The walls grew so close together that the November sun could not penetrate. Soft sounds of water lightly rushing over stone were amplified by the imposing stone walls, and conversation became minimal as we immersed ourselves in our own thoughts and the majestic beauty around us. I had never been anyplace like the depths of that red canyon.

We spent about five hours exploring the Narrows, and while it is difficult to pick out one highlight from this weekend trip, I do think choosing that hike was the best decision we made.

That evening we caught up with Stacy and Donald in Springdale for dinner and went over plans for the following day's run. Stacy, of Wilderness Running Company, was our logistics coordinator, and the mastermind behind both this, and last year's Zion trips. If it wasn't for him, none of us would be there. Donald - bad-ass runner, fellow blogger, friend and pacing buddy - also made the trip out from California to join the group for a day on Utah trails. After Jamie and I finished gushing about our day in the Narrows, we solidified plans to run about 30 miles the following day. Bellies full of calzones, she and I headed back to our hotel in a state of satisfied bliss, looking forward to another day of adventure in the park.

Saturday morning started early, with the four of us heading from the Zion high country down the Wildcat Trail. After about six miles or so, we would hook-up with the West Rim Trail and run the same route that we'd run on the first day of last year's trip, down into the canyon and up to the East Rim. A glowing sunrise held all the promise of a perfect day.

There is little better than sharing a new and glorious trail with good friends who also happen to be excellent running partners. Add to that the mild fall weather and breathtaking scenery, and it would be difficult to conceive of a better day. Once again, Zion delivered beautifully.

After a few miles on the West Rim Trail, the photo stops began in earnest. I figured we may as well take the whole day to run our 30 miles, right?

The fall leaves were in fierce competition with the canyon walls for brilliant displays of color, and I spent most of the day smiling, gawking, and making intelligent exclamations like, "Wow!" and "Oh!" and "Beautiful!"

Fortunately, I wasn't the only one engaged in such tourist-like awe.

I made a brief detour with Donald out to Angel's Landing, and I'm fairly certain he set the fastest-known-time-while-impeded-by-tourist-traffic for the trip. Luckily, neither one of us fell off, and I'm pretty sure we didn't knock any tourists off either.

Just past the turn-off from Angel's Landing, the trail descends sharply toward the canyon floor. I chased Donald down a long series of switchbacks while I grilled him about why he never became a rock climber. If his antics across Angel's Landing were any indication, he was sitting on some un-tapped talent. I kept up my insistent pestering all the way to the river, where, just like last year, Lisa had set up a fabulous picnic for us.

We regrouped with Stacy and Jamie while I happily stuffed food in my face. My recent training mileage had amounted to approximately zero, so my legs were already feeling the 20+ miles for the day. I knew they had another eleven in them though, and I kicked back on the picnic bench, downed a second can of Coke, and gazed up at the golden cottonwood trees, feeling both physically and spiritually sated.

As difficult as it was for me to tear myself away from that peaceful scene, I also knew the beauty of the trail that lay ahead. With both my stomach and my hydration pack re-filled to capacity, I trotted down the road a few pounds heavier, in pursuit of my three companions.

The East Rim Trail climbs quickly from the canyon floor, and I was happy enough to ascend because it meant I could walk instead of run. I still needed time to digest, and of course, take more photos.

The trail headed into the very wall of the canyon, and colors changed from red to white, and sometimes back to red again. We ran along rock walls, leapt small drainages, and skirted deep gorges. The day continued its easy rhythm, each person taking the lead on occasions which felt right.

As is my way on these kinds of days, I gradually fell toward the back of our little group. I was tired, and felt no need to push myself. The need that I felt in fact, was the emotional dragging-of-feet that seizes me at the end of a day like this - a day that has been anticipated for so long. I ached to stretch it all out just a few more minutes, to soak it all in.

Donald kindly waited for me to run in the last couple miles, and we shared the trail in companionable peace. I had already begun my off-season hiatus from running, and this day was a brilliant reminder of why I would be excited to return to training in a few weeks time.

Explorations of beauty like this, when you're with friends, but yet still feel the solitude of the wilderness and a connection with the Earth that brings a sense of inner tranquility - well, these are the best days on trail, the best days to be an ultra runner. And it was these thoughts that were drifting through my mind, when, without warning, we found ourselves at the end of our beautiful run.

I know there will be more days on stunning trails with good friends, but days like this one are special. My trips to Zion have taught me that sometimes it's worth it to make the extra effort to go somewhere new, somewhere a little far away and a little hard to get to. Sometimes it's a great idea to travel with new people, whom I don't know that well, who then become excellent training partners, and even better friends.

Sometimes running through nature's cathedrals is the perfect tonic for soothing a tired spirit and reminding a person why she loves this passion called running.

Footwear Options for Winter Running

Winter is officially here. Oh yes, it is! When I say "officially" I'm obviously not looking at my calendar; I'm looking at the scene out my window right now. Wow!

Switching to winter mode means more than just putting your snow tires on the car, tuning up your skis and searching out your tights and gloves from the depths of your closet. For runners, it sometimes means cross-training in sports like skate-skiing, snowshoeing, or that Truckee favorite, snow shoveling. Even when heading out for a run, it sometimes holds different footwear needs than summertime.

Following, are some thoughts about what to put on your feet this winter.

Trail Shoes

Pretty obvious, right? 'Tis the season when trail shoes become road shoes! This isn't much of a change for me, since I run almost completely on trails during the summer season. In winter though, I find myself more frequently on roads simply out of necessity. And this time of year, trail shoes are your best bet on snowy, icy roads.

I also use them on well-packed, snowy trails. If it's not fresh, deep snow, there's usually no need for anything more! If it's icy trail, then I add my Yaktrax for awesome traction, and I feel totally confident flying. As a side note on the Yaktrax, I don't advise wearing them on the road, no matter how icy it is. The inevitable spots of bare (or nearly bare) pavement are basically unrunnable with Yaktrax on your shoes.

GoreTex Trail Shoes

For those days when Old Man Winter is especially nasty. These GTX Wildcats are bomber! I typically only use them on really wet, slushy days, or with my snowshoes (see below).

And if it's bad enough for GoreTex, then you're probably going to want a pair of gaiters.

You can use ankle gaiters most of the time, but if you're snowshoeing through deep powder you may want full-length knee gaiters. Either way, be sure they're waterproof. Spandex gaiters are great for keeping the rocks out in the summer, but pretty worthless when it comes to snow and water.

Snowshoes

Snowshoes come in all shapes and sizes these days, from tiny racing snowshoes, to big, backcountry beasts. A good rule of thumb is that the bigger the shoe, the more snow it can handle. I like my Atlas Elektra 11 Series (pictured) because they are so versatile. I can use them to hike in fresh snow, but they're small and light enough to run with on packed trails. As previously mentioned, these are accompanied by my Wildcats and a pair of gaiters.

Mukluks

Mukluks are the traditional winter footwear of the Inuit. These people know something about cold and snow. Mine, made by Steger Mukluks in Ely, Minnesota, are warm, comfortable and durable. I absolutely LOVE these things!

I bought my mukluks 12 years ago to use for a winter of dogsledding in northern Minnesota, and they're still treating me right. Because they're a moccasin-style shoe, they're soft soled, and that is their secret to warmth. They don't restrict the motion of your foot, which allows for good circulation, and thus, toasty tootsies! Buy them a size up so you have plenty of room to wear an extra pair of socks for those truly frigid northern days.

Mukluks are great in deep snow because they're so tall, and they get good traction on the soft stuff. Running in them is particularly fun because you can actually feel the snow compacting beneath your feet. When it's super snowy out like it is now, I use them for walking the dogs, snowshoeing, digging out my car, having snowball fights or snowblower wars with the neighbors, and pretty much anything else that happens outside. My husband wears his to work up on the mountain every day.

And if your play-time activities include skiing (as they should), then I'm right there with you. Those footwear choices, however, are well beyond the scope of this blog post!

A sampling from my winter gear locker

What are your favorite shoes for playing in the winter?