Upon seeing The Great Lock-In Challenge in my feed, I cringed, sighed, and rolled my eyes. I鈥檝e been a health editor for nearly a decade, so I鈥檝e seen my fair share of viral wellness challenges. In 2025 alone, we鈥檝e been presented with the , (a less intense version of the 75 Hard), and the .

While I鈥檓 a proponent of taking care of my mind and body, I鈥檓 not one to advocate for trends鈥攁t least not all of them. Some often feel performative. That’s partly because of the comparative nature of social media and partly because of the message these trends send: “I’m doing health the ‘right’ way.” But there鈥檚 no one way to be healthy. Everyone has different lifestyles, fitness goals, dietary habits, and personalities. The Great Lock-In felt like virtue signaling wrapped in a self-care bow.

I鈥檓 my happiest when I do things as the mood strikes. When I exercise out of joy rather than obligation, it feels more meaningful and increases the likelihood that I鈥檒l do it again.

The Great Lock-In, which runs from October through the end of December, is meant to prepare us for the New Year by 鈥渓ocking in鈥� (the Gen-Z term for intense focus) on our wellness and financial goals now, so that whatever resolutions we choose next year feel a bit more attainable.

The feeling that comes with a new month 鈥�

There are no official rules. However, some people choose similar daily goals, like hitting 10,000 steps鈥攁lthough we recently wrote about how this number isn鈥檛 actually necessary for good health鈥攇etting nine hours of sleep, drinking 12 cups of water, and ditching your phone one hour before bed. Some people are trying to limit spending to build up their emergency savings. Others want to commit to journaling every day or exercising X times per week.

FEW HOURS TILL THE GREAT LOCK IN | RULES .

As a health editor, I often feel pressure to be the perfect example of wellness. This pressure, however, is self-imposed.听

For instance, 10,000 steps each day isn鈥檛 easily achievable for me. My job means I鈥檓 sitting at a computer very often. Sure, I get up, stretch, and take breaks, but my daily job duties don’t require movement. Back when I was a barista in college, hitting 10,000 steps a day was no problem. But I was also living with my parents, which meant fewer responsibilities, so I had more energy and more time to spend at the gym, taking pole-dancing classes, and running along the beach. My schedule now? Work. Cook. Run errands. Do laundry. Grab the mail. Take out the trash. When鈥攁nd big if鈥擨 get all that done, I might have the time and energy to go for a run or a bike ride.

Another reason why I opt out of this particular TikTok challenge is that routines just don鈥檛 work for me. I always get so caught up in doing the routine that I don鈥檛 enjoy it and forget why I started it in the first place. I鈥檓 my happiest when I do things as the mood strikes. When I exercise out of joy rather than obligation, it feels more meaningful and increases the likelihood that I鈥檒l do it again.

My biggest gripe about The Great Lock-In is that it seems like everyone posting on TikTok about it is just trying to prove that they’re winning at life. But performing and doing things for external validation is draining. Of course, sharing your goals and progress with others can be encouraging, but this challenge feels more performative than motivating.

My version of The Great Lock-In would be less about coming up with routines and goals and more about not having any and being OK with that. I don鈥檛 need to force myself to 鈥渓ock in鈥� because when something is exciting to me, I听naturally give it all my attention. The only thing that matters is how we feel in our bodies鈥攁nd isn鈥檛 that what being healthy is really about?

Want more听国产吃瓜黑料听health stories?听. Ready to push yourself? Enter MapMyRun鈥檚听 running challenge.

The post I鈥檓 a Health Editor, and I鈥檓 Not Participating in the Great Lock-In Wellness Challenge appeared first on 国产吃瓜黑料 Online.

Grab your plaid flannel shacket. Grab your wide-brimmed fedora. Grab your bottle of antihistamine. It’s pumpkin patch season!

C’mon honey, let get the kids! There are only ten days remaining for us to indulge in America’s favorite autumnal tradition: traipsing about an actual farm to snap selfies with smelly livestock, get desperately lost in a cornfield, and fork over top dollar for a decorative gourd or three.

Aha! A parking space, right next to an antique John Deere tractor. Everybody, listen up. A century ago, this hunk of iron was responsible for producing 85 percent of the American calorie intake, and hey, get back here! Don’t you want to hear the rest of my dad history lesson?

Fine, let’s go inside. Do you have the hand sanitizer? What about the Bactine? Great!

Hooboy, look at this place: its as if a museum of American agribusiness and a McDonald’s Playplace were sucked up by a tornado and then dropped into the suburbs. There are real goats and horses here, as well as a snack bar serving funnel cakes, plus hay bales stacked dangerously high, and all manners of rusty farming equipment painted to resemble barnyard animals. Where should we start?

Oh cool, a livestock feeding tank filled to the brim with corn kernels. Dive in everyone鈥攚hat could go wrong? Oh god, it’s so deep! I’m sinking! Where did my daughter go? There you are鈥攚ait, you’re not my child. Aha! Nope, that’s someone’s shoe. Who’s crying? Are you my kid? You are! Fabulous. Let’s never go in there again.

Look, the farmer has erected a wild west boomtown out of plywood. Look kids, there are all sorts of storefronts from a bygone era of American capitalism: a saloon, a dry goods store, and even a Blockbuster Video. How quaint.

Who wants to do a potato sack race? Kids, back when I was your age, I was the LeBron James of this event in Field Day. Let me show you how it’s done. On your mark, get set. Go! I’m winning! I’m winning. I’m鈥�oh my god, my lower back! Honey, get the Tylenol.听

OK, enough of that. Should we check out the corn maze? The advertisement on Instagram said it spans two zip codes! You lead the way, kids, let’s see if all that time playing Fortnite can help us navigate a labyrinth.

Wow, another wrong turn. And another one. Kids, where are you taking us? How long have we been in here, anyway? I could sure go for a funnel cake. We haven’t seen any other people for a while now. Are you sure we’re still in the same county?

Oh look, the farmer has placed a few plastic Home Depot skeletons in this corner of the maze as Halloween decorations. What, honey? Those aren’t fake? Where the hell are we!

OK, thank god, you found the exit, and not a moment too soon. Kids, go up to those plywood face cutouts and let me get your photo. This one is of a dog and cat. This one is a farmer and a cow. Ooh, this one is of a homicidal purple alien chainsawing my child’s head off. I think we found our 2025 Christmas Card.

Great, let’s wait in line for the hayride. Here comes the tractor pulling the hay cart. Climb aboard! Finally, this is relaxing and not stressful, and I can see the entire farm from up here. It looks like the farmer is driving us over to the pig pen. Ah, we get out here? Oh, the farmer is handing us pitchforks and shovels. Oh, you want us to scoop up the pig manure and move it to the other side of the pen? Why are you handing me this 1099 IRS form? Kids, don’t fill that out!

OK, I’ve kind of had it with the pumpkin patch. This is awful. Let’s get the heck out of here.

Alright, arlight, I’ll calm down. You’re right, we haven’t picked out our pumpkins yet. There they are, all arranged nicely in a field. No, I don’t see any pumpkin vines anywhere. My guess is they just trucked these pumpkins out here and now we’re supposed to pick them up and carry them back. Yeah, it doesn’t make much sense, but oh well. Nothing about this place does, right?

Hey, that’s a great pumpkin you’ve chosen, it will carve up perfectly. Yours is fabulous too, honey. Oh, you want me to carry it. OK, sure. And this one, too. Oh, that’s a big one. And that one, and this one? Oof, my back hurts even more. I wonder if there’s a chiropractor’s office back at the plywood boomtown. Guys, wait up for me!

OK, let’s settle up with the cashier. We have four pumpkins, six mini pumpkins, and three winged gourds. And four cups of cider. Wait, how much? Can I pay in installments?

Well, I’m pooped. And dirty. Did you guys have fun? Great!

Yeah鈥擨 can’t wait for next year’s pumpkin patch season, too.

The post It鈥檚 Pumpkin Patch Season! appeared first on 国产吃瓜黑料 Online.

This story was originally produced by听听and is co-published here by permission.

It鈥檚 official: at midnight on September 30, the federal government shut down. Congress failed to pass a budget or even a stopgap resolution, furloughing hundreds of thousands of federal workers and leaving the nation鈥檚 public lands in limbo.

Every time Washington stumbles into a budget crisis, another question looms: should America鈥檚 national parks remain open during a government shutdown? The instinct to keep them accessible is understandable. These landscapes belong to the people, small towns outside the park depend on the visitor business they attract, and, for many families, a visit to a national park is a once-in-a-lifetime pilgrimage. Closing them feels like punishing Americans for endless D.C. dysfunction.

Yesterday, National Park Service Comptroller, exercising the delegated authority of the Director, Jessica Bowron, sent an internally memo to NPS staff announcing that听they would keep parks . But our recent history has taught us a hard truth: leaving parks open without staff is a recipe for destruction, danger, and disrespect. The most responsible policy during a shutdown is also a uniquely unpopular one: close the gates.

Consider what happened during the 35-day shutdown in the winter of 2018鈥�2019, the longest in U.S. history. Despite most park staff being furloughed, parks remained partially open. There were few or no rangers to enforce rules, bathrooms and campgrounds were closed, and visitors were left to improvise.

Trails in Yosemite overflowed with human waste after bathrooms filled up and trash went uncollected. In Joshua Tree National Park, down iconic, hundred-year-old trees; off-road vehicles tore through sensitive desert landscapes; and campers squatted in illegal areas.

鈥淲hat鈥檚 happened to our park in the last 34 days is irreparable for the next 200 to 300 years,鈥� former Joshua Tree superintendent Curt Sauer told the crowd at a rally after the shutdown.

The National Park Service was trying to make the best of a dysfunctional situation. By keeping parks technically 鈥渙pen鈥� but unstaffed, it sent the message that visitors were welcome, even as basic protections had collapsed.

Contrast that with the 2013 shutdown, when the Obama administration made the unpopular decision to completely close national parks. That decision understandably created a backlash. Veterans knocked down barricades at the World War II Memorial in Washington, D.C. Families who’d planned visits months in advance were turned away at Yellowstone and the Grand Canyon. And gateway communities faced an existential loss of business.

The economic fallout in Tusayan, Arizona, just outside the Grand Canyon, was estimated at more than $1 million per day. In Estes Park, Colorado, just outside the entrance to Rocky Mountain National Park, business owners reported losing tens of millions in a matter of weeks.

These were crippling impacts, but at least there was clarity. While 2013 was painful for people, 2018鈥�2019 was painful for the parks themselves. If the mission of the National Park Service is to preserve these places 鈥渦nimpaired for future generations,鈥� the choice between the two approaches is obvious.

Some experts advocate for a compromise听in line with Bowron’s recent guidelines:听keep the scenic overlooks and through-roads open, but close visitor centers, campgrounds, and backcountry access. This sounds sensible on paper, but in reality, it could create more confusion and chaos.

During the 2018鈥�2019 shutdown, some states like Utah and Arizona scrambled to use their own funds to keep . Governors saw it as both an economic lifeline and a political win. But not every state had the resources or political will to do the same, and the result was an uneven patchwork. A family visiting Bryce Canyon might have found open restrooms, while those visiting Big Bend found locked gates and no rangers in sight.

Partial openings also invite a dangerous illusion of normalcy. Visitors arrive expecting the full park experience, only to discover no one is there to help if they鈥檙e lost, injured, or in danger.

What’s more, we’re already seeing damage from the National Park Service staffing cuts. In Joshua Tree this spring, shortly after many rangers and other park employees received termination notices, . Why should we expect anything different when zero staffers are in the park?

Protecting local economies is the strongest argument against closures. Towns outside park boundaries often depend almost entirely on tourism. According to the National Park Service, visitor spending in 2022 supported over 378,000 jobs and contributed $50 billion to the U.S. economy. When parks close, those numbers plummet overnight.

That pain is real, and it shouldn鈥檛 be dismissed. But here鈥檚 the uncomfortable truth: leaving parks open without staff doesn鈥檛 save local economies either. In 2018鈥�2019, news of overflowing toilets and trashed campgrounds deterred many would-be visitors. People don鈥檛 want to come if the park is in disarray. Gateway towns rely not just on visitor numbers, but on the promise of a safe, inspiring experience.

If Congress wants to protect these communities during a shutdown鈥攚hich it should鈥攎aybe a better solution is to provide direct relief such as emergency grants, bridge loans, or tax credits to businesses that lose revenue through no fault of their own.

Closing the parks during a shutdown is not about punishing the public. It鈥檚 about refusing to treat these places as pawns in a political standoff. A closed gate may disappoint a family for a week. An open gate during a shutdown can scar a landscape for generations.

The post Op-Ed: The Government Has Shut Down. National Parks Should Close Their Gates. appeared first on 国产吃瓜黑料 Online.

We recently bought a house in a mountain town where we鈥檝e rented for 15 years. It鈥檚 the perfect location: within walking distance of trails in one direction, and the old downtown of this former mining town in the other. Since the COVID pandemic, this lazy town has become incredibly popular鈥�and expensive. What our family of three could afford was a 100-year-old fixer-upper, 900 square feet, two bedrooms, one bathroom. Because our town is now hip, all our friends and family want to visit. And we want them to stay with us.

Over the years we often stayed with my brother-in-law鈥檚 family. They have a big house, and they always offered us a guest room with its own bathroom. We loved it and were so grateful. When they came to visit, we gave them a room, but one of them slept on the living room couch. Six people used one toilet and shower.

If they were our only guests, I might be more generous. But with all our company, it鈥檚 starting to feel like a hotel. So I鈥檝e proposed to my partner that when his brother鈥檚 family returns, we house them in the camper that we park behind the house in the alley. It has heat! It doesn鈥檛 have a toilet, but they can come into the house if need be.

But my partner thinks that would be rude, and that if we鈥檙e going to have guests, we have to house them indoors. But I argue that a hotel or Airbnb in this town costs $200 a night. They should be grateful for what we have to offer! Shouldn鈥檛 they? 鈥�Location Rich, House Poor

Dear House Poor,

First, let鈥檚 breathe deep and count gratitudes. You own a functional house in a great place. You have friends and family that you like well enough to invite into your home. You have a camper! Those facts alone speak of an abundance, even if the shabby home feels like poverty.

Visiting Family Creates an Ethical Conundrum

It鈥檚 tempting鈥攋ust ask your partner鈥攖o attempt reciprocating with family. They offer you a suite, you should offer them a suite! And yet the financial reality is likely not equal. You didn鈥檛 tell me enough about their home to know if they own a large house (because they are fabulously wealthy), or because the house is in some undesirable place where real estate is cheap. It doesn鈥檛 really matter: what matters is that your partner may feel some element of envy or shame while comparing your hovel to their mansion. That鈥檚 a strong driver of behavior.

Sundog finds your camper solution both elegant and charming. Your guests have presumably traveled to your mountain town not just to see you, but also to see the mountains. Let them rough it! You may even provide a down-home chamber pot鈥攁 five-gallon plastic bucket鈥攕hould they prefer a more authentic experience. No extra charge for the privacy. Your partner and child will be much more gracious of hosts if they all get to sleep in their own beds.

If your guests prefer luxury, then they can choose one of the pricey accommodations you mention. I understand your partner鈥檚 concern that it might be uncouth, but I don鈥檛 see anything unethical in offering what you have.

Morality aside, there may be a question of legality. Some cities expressly forbid occupying motor homes in the street and driveway. And for good reason. Setting up a HipCamp in your driveway will violate laws and enrage your neighbors. There鈥檚 a big difference between letting your family stay in the Casita versus running a pirate trailer park. Let your conscience be your guide here, and if a crabby neighbor complains, you can address that when it happens.

The last thing I鈥檒l say is that there may be some intra-family dynamics here that aren鈥檛 quite at the surface. That may be between you and your partner, or between your partner and his brother. If the camper solution blows up in your face, then you鈥檒l have to confront those tensions more directly, and perhaps come up with a new plan.

Should a Reader Offer a Refund?

Recently Sundog wrote about the ethics of selling used gear that may not last, specifically an old sailboat on an old trailer. Reader LittleTug chimed in with his opinion:

I read your article on should you give back more money to the person who purchased your old boat. No offense but that is ridiculous. Everything works the day before it breaks. I am sure that you did not make it break. If you lied about something other than your opinion on its condition when you sold it (that is fraud) you should not consider giving back one penny. They just want it for free.

If you bought it would you try to get more money back? I would not. He could have had a marine surveyor check it out before he bought it.

Mark Sundeen teaches environmental writing at the University of Montana. Got a question or a response? Send your questions and complaints to sundogsalmanac@hotmail.com

The post Our Home Is Tiny. Is It Rude to House My Visiting In-Laws in a Camper? appeared first on 国产吃瓜黑料 Online.

Dear Sundog,

I listed an old sailboat for sale for $3,000, which happened to be the amount I鈥檇 put into it with a new engine and other repairs. No takers. I dropped the price but still nothing. Finally I slashed it to $1200, and got three buyers immediately. One guy said he’d buy it sight unseen. I was out of town when he came by and hauled it off on its trailer. Well, 19 miles later, the axle bearing shit the bed. The tire blew out, and the sparks of hot metal dragging on pavement started a small grass fire, which the guy was able to contain. The only way I know this is through a series of increasingly angry texts and photos. The buyer then paid $600 to a wrecker to haul the boat and trailer to his house. Now the buyer is texting me asking for some money back. I鈥檇 just hauled the boat and trailer a hundred miles the week before, and did not know that it had any problem. I still think the buyer got a good deal. Am I obliged to refund any of his money? 鈥� Seller B. Wary

Dear Seller,

We all know how much new equipment costs: boats, trailers, ropes or skis. It鈥檚 prohibitive! How can a semi-unemployed vagabond make it in the outback today when it costs tens of thousands for the basic outfit? We do what your buyer did, and cruise the bargain basements for steals too good to be true. But here鈥檚 the thing. It usually is too good to be true. The raft has slow leaks. The truck chassis is rusting. The thing broke in two but was repaired in the garage and will probably, almost certainly, perform good as new.

During the pandemic, a peculiar inversion occurred. When factories and shipyards shuttered, new equipment was expensive or even impossible to purchase. As a result, owners of used boats, trailers and trucks could unload their junk for nearly as much as they鈥檇 paid a decade earlier. This bubble persisted for a couple of years, and even now you鈥檒l find ambitious sellers asking retail prices for cracked, dented, leaking, rusty gear. It would appear that you, Seller B. Wary, did not fall into this category, and quickly adjusted the price of your old boat to what the market would pay.

To be sure it鈥檚 a bummer for the buyer. Blown tires, a day wasted, expensive repair, and a wildfire to boot: What a mess! These things happen to those of us foolish enough to haul trailers filled with gear around the hinterlands. Sundog himself once toppled a trailer full of kayaks on a dirt road in Baja California some two hours from the nearest town or auto garage. In this case he left the trailer, drove to a garage, and hired a mechanic to come back with him and fix the thing where it sat. The Mexican mechanic brought a chain and a block of wood and a small tool kit. Upon getting the trailer to run, he looked with satisfaction at his two hands and pronounced, 鈥淧uro mano.鈥� (pure hands).

Nonetheless, by the basic premise of the familiar slogan 鈥渂uyer beware,鈥� his problems are not your responsibility鈥擨鈥檇 add that your responsibility decreases in direct proportion to the sales price.

Sundog also learned the same lesson the hard way. His first car ever purchased was a 1969 Plymouth Fury that was already 22 years old when Sundog bought it from a trollish hippie named Bobby for $500. Having driven approximately half a mile from the point of purchase, Sundog was dismayed when he heard a loud clank followed by a thunderous roar from the V8. The exhaust line had snapped, and the muffler dragged on the asphalt.

I was pulled over by two separate cops on the short drive home, and issued a fix-it ticket. This being California, registering the Fury would have required a new exhaust system, a smog check, and God knows what else. I didn鈥檛 know how to do the work myself. I was going to have to pay hundreds鈥攖housands, maybe鈥攆ar in excess of what I鈥檇 paid for the Fury just to get the thing street legal. When I took this news to Bobby and asked for some refund, he remarked memorably if not justly: 鈥淗ey man, you can鈥檛 squeeze water from a rock!鈥�

Sundog received little sympathy. When I told people I鈥檇 paid $500 for a 22 year old car that turned out to be a lemon, they said (I鈥檓 paraphrasing here): 鈥淲ell, duh.鈥�

I鈥檇 imagined myself the kind of guy who could fix a car, or if not that, the kind who鈥檇 run the risk of driving around an explosively loud unregistered beast. I was neither. I ended up paying a wrecker a hundred bucks to tow the thing to a junkyard. After that, I bought better cars. Lesson learned.

You鈥檙e not obliged to refund his money, nor to pay the $600 for the tow. The buyer could have made other choices: repaired it on the side of the road. Had he towed it back the 19 miles to your house and asked for a refund, you鈥檇 have more of an obligation to take it back. If you鈥檙e going to buy decades-old gear at rock bottom prices, then you should be the type of person who knows how to repair it. Inversely, if you can鈥檛 repair equipment yourself, you should buy new or at least newer gear, with the warranties and peace of mind that comes with it. It would appear that your buyer wanted the best of both worlds: dirtbag prices with dealer assurances. It didn鈥檛 work out that way.

Indeed, your buyer got a deal that was too good to be true.

Mark Sundeen teaches environmental writing at the University of Montana.听Got a question or a response? Email听sundogsalmanac@hotmail.com

The post I Sold My Old Boat and It Broke. Should I Offer a Refund? appeared first on 国产吃瓜黑料 Online.

I ran my first marathon in a basketball jersey. Not just any basketball jersey, a vintage Chris Webber Golden State Warriors number, bright blue and straight from the mid-nineties. As racers lined up at the starting line of the Sunflower Marathon in Mazama, Washington, I looked out of place next to technical T-shirts and space-age microfibers. But in many ways, that was also kind of the point: Did it really matter what I was wearing? We were all about to run the same race, did we have to look the same too?

Running is an intensely personal experience. Beyond the run club hoopla and Strava route sharing, getting up and going is an internal affair, one driven by any number of motivations, but ultimately completed by a team of one. So why, then, has running fashion (and function) become such a crowd-sourced affair?

Sweat-wicking material, temperature control technology, flat seams, lower friction points鈥攖he innovation in our outer appearance has never been as good as it is today. But it鈥檚 also intimidating. The pressure to get the exact right gear as everyone else can add an extra barrier of entry to the run game, and for some it can be a downright turnoff. Let鈥檚 be real, dropping an extra $200 on an over-designed tank top isn鈥檛 exactly screaming 鈥済o out there and have some fun.鈥�

Truthfully, for most of us, the shirt that we feel most comfortable in is, and always will be, the ultimate running shirt. Not nanotech, lab-engineered comfortable, but 鈥淗ey, this is me鈥� comfortable. That might mean a baggy cotton tee, a high school era cutoff, or a vintage basketball jersey. Comfort does not come in a singular box.

Sure, chafing is a scourge on the planet (this is one of the world鈥檚 only universal truths), but most of us simply are not out there pushing the technological limits of our sportswear on our morning jog. We are, however, fighting to get out the door in the first place, battling a laundry list of excuses (and a few sore muscles) in the process. Frankly, adding a uniform to the mix just gives me one more reason to hit the snooze button.

Running is a pure pursuit: one foot in front of the other for as long as we can. The rest? That鈥檚 all extra. Let鈥檚 start treating it as such. This isn鈥檛 hockey鈥攖here are no pads, no jock straps, no laser-cut helmet designs or skates making the millisecond difference in our daily neighborhood loop. Let鈥檚 keep it simple, folks. If putting on a familiar shirt gets you to the start line, that鈥檚 a win that even the most highly specialized workout top can never deliver. So get out there and let that garment game fly.

The post The Case for Running in Whatever You’re Wearing appeared first on 国产吃瓜黑料 Online.

I have two nice things to say about triathlons, which is that they’re long, and they’re difficult. (Yes, they’re also steeped in history and tradition, and the .) But, Lordy鈥攃ould the sporting gods have picked a more somber collection of events? Swimming, biking, and running are about as basic as a pumpkin spice latte. Even the Olympics has skateboarding these days.

While I have nothing but respect for anyone who would even contemplate completing a triathlon, many of us at 国产吃瓜黑料听have a hard time doing the same, grueling activity for hours at a time. The rest of us have bad knees. Besides, triathlons have been around since the seventies. Isn’t it about time to change things up?

So, the editors鈥攑hilosophers that we are鈥攑ut our heads together to come up with some alternatives. So far, not a single national sporting committee has taken us up on any of them. But, as always, we’re just going to assume we’re ahead of our time.

Here are eight multisport linkups we’d much rather participate in than a full triathlon.

Spending all day in the sun is fine鈥攗nless you have skin as fair and burn-prone as I do. As an alternative, I propose we move the whole triathlon business underground. Call it the Moley Trinity. Competitors will connect a route, a spelunking adventure, and an in a terrible, beautiful, and highly abrasive linkup of semi-subterranean sports.
鈥� Corey Buhay, interim managing editor, 国产吃瓜黑料

I suck at swimming, which is why I鈥檝e never tried a tri. And a stubborn piriformis injury has put the kaibosh on competitive trail running. So if I could pick any three triathlon events, I鈥檇 keep biking in there, but make it mountain biking. Then I鈥檇 add in 10 laps on a , and I鈥檇 top it off with 60 minutes of jump roping鈥攎y favorite form of cardio.
鈥� Maya Silver, editor-in-chief, Climbing

Hike, pick a gallon of wild berries, then bake them into a pie. Points for time, but your final confection will also be judged in the style of The Great British Bake-Off. The hardest part is collecting enough berries without eating them all straight off the bush.
鈥� Zoe Gates, senior editor, Backpacker

Slam a gas-station four-pack of Red Bull on your way to the lake. When you arrive, grab your SUP and paddle until your arms give out. Finally, snag a prime shoreline spot and hang your hammock. Whoever dozes off first wins. (Can鈥檛 fall asleep? That鈥檚 God, or maybe the Red Bull, telling you that you haven鈥檛 paddled enough.)
鈥� Adam Roy, editor-in-chief, Backpacker

Bike, to inline skate, to swim鈥攖he ultimate urban tri. The biggest crux here is transporting your skates via bike. Do you tie them around your neck, throw them in a pack, or swing them off the handle bars? The strategy we have tried is attempting to ride the bike with blades already on. Would not recommend.
鈥� Kade Krichko, contributing editor, 国产吃瓜黑料

Okay, one more idea. Allow me to pitch you Mudsport, a sloppy six-mile mud run, followed by an intense but sporting game of , with a stretch of highly competitive to cap it off.
鈥� Corey Buhay, interim managing editor, 国产吃瓜黑料

I鈥檓 13 weeks postpartum, so any kind of exercise is an accomplishment these days. I propose a tri for new parents: Drink a full cup of coffee before it gets cold. Then pop your child into a stroller and jog to the nearest kid-friendly attraction so you can push the stroller around while your little one snoozes peacefully, appreciating none of it鈥�.all on wildly limited sleep while nursing as needed. Bonus points if you have to change a blowout along the way.
鈥� Abigail Wise, brand director, 国产吃瓜黑料

I鈥檓 a great swimmer and used to be on a swim team, but if I never touch water again鈥攎inus showering and bubble baths鈥擨鈥檇 be OK with that. My preferred triathlon consists of a morning session spent training my friend鈥檚 kitten to wear a harness so that he can join me on my trail walks, taking said kitten on my favorite 2.3-mile trek, and then parking my car in front of the beach for a nap.
鈥�Ayana Underwood, senior health editor, 国产吃瓜黑料

The post My Personal Triathlon Consists of These Three Events appeared first on 国产吃瓜黑料 Online.

This winter a woman in Steamboat Springs spotted an elk on her property. When she went out to take a picture, the animal startled and ran into a gully where it got stuck in snow up to its neck. Convinced the , she called game wardens, who told her to leave the animal alone. By morning, she鈥檇 gathered friends to dig it out, but it died before they could help.

The story illustrates a longstanding ethical dilemma. Many people, guided by truly good intentions, can鈥檛 stand to see an animal die, especially if their own actions鈥攍ike approaching the elk to take a picture鈥攁re what led to its predicament.听 Even land managers will occasionally try to rehabilitate an animal that鈥檚 been hit by a car. However, this way of thinking is a slippery slope. A reasonable person could make the case that most frontcountry animal injuries are in some way caused by humans鈥攚hether that鈥檚 due to our encroachment on habitat, or climate change applying new and deadly pressure. But regardless of the cause of injury, wildlife professionals鈥攊ncluding rangers and wardens鈥攁re pretty firm about letting nature take its course, even if that means the animal dies. After all, when one beast falls, another is fed.

It鈥檚 tempting to set such a black-and-white rule. It鈥檚 even more tempting to Monday-morning quarterback. Take one infamous case in which a do-gooder came across a lone shivering baby bison in Yellowstone. He loaded it into the back of his SUV and brought it to the rangers. As it turned out, the baby wasn鈥檛 actually abandoned. But now that it had taken a joyride in a Toyota Sequoia, its mother wouldn鈥檛 take it back, and given the near certainty of its violent death in the jaws of a predator, rangers instead chose to euthanize it. The good Samaritan was fined $119 for his efforts, and his empathy got the bison killed. Critics decried the driver. They also called the case clear-cut, even though it may not have been to the do-gooder at the time.

Other cases are much murkier. My wife worked for years as a field biologist. On one gig, her team was installing small sections of fence around young aspen trees in the backcountry of a national park to cage them off and test how much elk were browsing. But one day a rutting elk scooped up the metal fencing with its antlers where it got entangled. When the cage then flopped onto the elk鈥檚 back, it started, and sprinted out, thinking it was being attacked by some beast it could not see.

What to do? Obviously this was a case where human activity had put the elk in danger. It had no hope of removing the cage from its antlers. The researchers dropped their work and ran after the elk, also radioing game wardens to explain the situation. By the time the wardens arrived with their tranquilizer darts, the elk had wisely waded into the middle of the river鈥攖his is how the animals escape predators. To tranquilize the elk in the river would cause it to drown. So everyone sat down and waited an hour or so. Finally when the elk emerged, they tranquilized it, and were able to remove the metal cage and let the elk go on its merry way. A successful outcome. And yet one might wonder how many federal dollars were spent on this single mission, and astutely note that this kind of treatment must be the exception, not the rule.

So here鈥檚 another case from my wife鈥檚 annals of animal rescue. She and her partner were live-trapping mice for another experiment. But somehow two ground squirrels found their way into the traps. In the cold Montana summer night, they鈥檇 gone into torpor, a sort of short-term hibernation from hypothermia and dehydration. Left to the elements, the squirrels would probably have died. So these young wildlife-lovers took action: They unzipped parkas and each placed a squirrel against their belly to warm them up. It seemed sensible enough. But as they hiked on to the next trap her friend began to wonder aloud. 鈥淚 think there鈥檚 something dangerous about squirrels, but I can鈥檛 quite recall what it is.鈥� He snapped his fingers. 鈥淣ow I remember: They carry bubonic plague!鈥�

The thought of a sharp-fanged and sharp-clawed rodent coming back to life in immediate proximity to their internal organs made the two rethink their plan. So they returned to their truck, and lay the two squirrels on the driver鈥檚 seat where the early morning sunlight through the windshield heated the torpored furballs. They shut the door and went back to work. Returning a few hours later, the creatures were. . . gone? Later when they returned the truck to the yard, the mechanics discovered the squirrels had somehow found their way out of the cab and into the undercarriage. While the mechanic was able to dislodge the animals, it鈥檚 safe to say that this intervention may not have served the squirrels well.

I think it鈥檚 worth discussing how these rescue attempts affect humans, too. Compared with a century or two ago, humans now have virtually no contact with non-domesticated animals. (We have very little contact with farm animals, either.) And I think if we believe that other species have a right to exist, then it might be useful鈥攅ven profound鈥攖o once in a while brush up against them. I don鈥檛 accept the view that 鈥渢he environment鈥� is entirely separate from civilization, or that humans should never disturb or visit it. I tend to think humans can鈥攁nd should鈥攈ave some sort of connection to other species besides donating money to some group that will protect them. Practicing kindness to another species is important. And while I get that it鈥檚 possible that our kindness may actually harm that species, it鈥檚 important to try (within reason), nonetheless. It reminds us that we, too, are part of creation.

Here鈥檚 an analogy. In the modern welfare state, citizens basically agree to pay taxes in order to distribute their wealth to those who need it. This approach has in many European nations. But it also relieves many individuals from the ancient act of charity鈥攐f offering an actual hand to the poor, tired, and downtrodden. So while this technocratic approach produces better results (look at the in the United States compared to Europe) something immeasurable is lost when so many people no longer feel the need to give personally to those in need. When such contributions are just deducted from your paycheck, we become disconnected from the act of charity. We lose the opportunity to give back in the way that that is taught by most world religions, as well as the sort of social-class intermingling that might, in theory, make for better democracies.

To bring the analogy back to animals: wildlife professionals have determined that regular humans should leave nature alone. Let the rangers and wardens figure it out, they say. And yet, some basic part of our humanity is lost if, coming upon a bird with a broken wing, we just walk past, thinking, I must not meddle with the environment. But always deferring to the government professionals can place us in an ethically dubious position. We may end up feeling powerless, unable to perform an instinctual act of kindness. At some level, training ourselves to turn a blind eye to pain has to be bad for the soul.

As for the woman who watched the elk die in the snowdrift near her house: I understand why the warden advised her to leave the animal alone. Elk can be dangerous if they feel they are in danger, striking with their huge hooves and potentially endangering their human rescuers. In any case, the agencies decided to let the elk die, and it did. My point isn鈥檛 to say the agencies made the wrong decision, just that their decision doesn鈥檛 appear to be ethically superior to that of the woman who eventually (and unsuccessfully) attempted to save it.

I also feel that her instinct to try to gather her neighbors to dig out the elk would likely have forged a connection to the nonhuman world that is rare and precious. Remember that humans lived for millennia in intimacy with wild animals, both as hunters and as prey. Maybe we are safer if we stay away from injured animals. But surely something has been lost by rupturing that connection.

Finally, most people who鈥檝e been watching the state of the planet for the past decades are feeling a strong sense of guilt. Humans are causing the extinction of hundreds of other species. It may be easy to ridicule the man who packed a baby bison into his car. It may not have been an educated decision, or even necessarily the right one. But let鈥檚 not belittle his motives.

Mark Sundeen teaches environmental writing at the University of Montana. Got an ethical question of quandary of your own? Send it to sundogsalmanac@hotmail.com.

The post When Is It OK to Rescue a Wild Animal? appeared first on 国产吃瓜黑料 Online.

From 2021 until 2024, while I was Secretary of the Interior, we worked to forge stability, create jobs in a clean energy economy, conserve more lands and waters for future generations, and secure clean air and water for communities in every corner of the country.

We treated everyone with dignity and respect鈥攙alues that New Mexicans live by. Today, the work we accomplished, alongside conservationists, farmers, ranchers, Tribes, rural communities, and cities is under attack.

In a time of questions and uncertainty in Washington, governors around the country will be on the front lines of defense against this president鈥檚 reckless firing of federal workers, massive cuts to services that people rely on, and general chaos. The Trump administration is vigorously defending its actions in court, and if they鈥檙e allowed to stand, the harm will only grow.

When wildfires strike, there will now be fewer federal firefighters to put out the flames. Jobs and livelihoods in the outdoor recreation sector are at risk. Families who plan to visit Carlsbad Caverns in New Mexico, Yellowstone in Wyoming, and other national parks will encounter longer wait times and possibly limited hours.

When folks are looking to gather firewood on national forest lands, they could have a harder time contacting support staff. Veterans who seek solace on our public lands might not have the access they once did. Hunters may notice that their organizations are losing funding, and their hunting grounds slowly disappearing and being sold off to the highest bidder.

I鈥檓 running for Governor of New Mexico because leadership matters.

Governors will need to meet this moment with bold and steady leadership, and I will be a Governor who stands up for New Mexicans and the public lands that we love. While I was Secretary of the Interior, we made tremendous strides to address climate change, expand access to public lands, address drought, and manage resources responsibly. This was all done with clear direction and respect for the workforce tasked with implementing our goals. We tried new things and shot for the moon, and we did it all hand-in-hand with the people most impacted.

We created meaningful change because we were a serious agency led by, frankly, serious people. The Interior was one of the largest agencies in the federal government with nearly 70,000 dedicated employees鈥攑ark rangers, firefighters, climate scientists, biologists, and more. These are the jobs in New Mexico that kids deserve to have when they鈥檙e grown.

As I travel around my home state listening to communities, I鈥檓 hearing time and again that people are afraid. I鈥檝e met federal workers who were worried about their jobs, seniors anxious about Medicare, veterans concerned about VA services, and families worried about their kids鈥� schools. Trump and Elon Musk are striking fear into our communities while failing to deliver the things they promised.

Governors have the obligation to protect our communities. I know I will carry the weight of standing up in the face of these attacks, but it鈥檚 a weight I will happily carry because I believe in a future where we all share in New Mexico鈥檚 bounty and success. It鈥檚 a vision that has sometimes been out of reach, but I believe that with my experience, we can change the system to work for the people.

Similar to the way I changed the system at the Department of the Interior by bringing Tribal Nations and local communities in as active participants in stewarding our lands, I will make that a reality for traditional communities and Tribes in New Mexico. I will also collaborate with other governors who recognize the threats posed by this administration and with the state attorney general to pursue legal routes to fight for the protection of our lands. I hope and expect that governors鈥攁s chief executives of states鈥攚ill work together to share and learn from their successes and find opportunities to pursue new solutions. We must recognize the urgency of this moment and lock arms against these very real threats.

As governor, I will make sure New Mexico鈥檚 state parks are maintained and accessible, and I鈥檒l work to break down barriers to access these treasures. If the national parks and other federal lands in New Mexico suffer further staffing and resource cuts, I will explore ways for the state to step up and provide support to keep federal lands safe and available. I will continue efforts to recruit and hire federal workers who have lost their jobs so that they can continue to share their valuable skills and training.

I鈥檓 running for governor because the experience I gained leading a federal department and working in Congress will help working people. And I will stand alongside all of the governors who will be on the frontlines to protect our beautiful landscapes, outdoor traditions, and natural resources for future generations.

Deb Haaland served as the 54th Secretary of the United States Department of the Interior.

The post Op-Ed: Public Lands Are Under Attack. State Leaders Should Protect them. appeared first on 国产吃瓜黑料 Online.

On January 10, at Palisades Tahoe, an avalanche ripped down G.S. Bowl, a popular run right beneath the famed KT-22 chair, killing one person and trapping many others. As is almost always the case with inbounds avalanches, none of the skiers and snowboarders who were buried did anything wrong. And while investigations are ongoing, Palisades鈥� snow safety professionals鈥攖he patrollers that risk their lives in the predawn gloom tossing hand charges and ski cutting slopes to release avalanches before the public arrives鈥攑robably also did their jobs to the best of their abilities.

After a multiple-fatality slide at Silver Mountain, Idaho, in 2020, I gave some general advice about how to protect yourself inbounds. I also explained why inbounds avalanches happen in 2019 after a similar tragedy at Taos Ski Valley, in New Mexico. The unfortunate reality is that avalanche science is pretty good at assessing the likelihood of slides, but it cannot predict exactly where and when a slope will break loose. Nor will we ever know with total certainty that avalanche terrain鈥攁ny ungroomed slope above 30 degrees, which includes pretty much everything above a blue square in the west鈥攊s 100 percent safe to ski. Mitigation doesn鈥檛 work that way. Resort snow safety teams live in a continuum where they can always be good, but they can never be perfect. In a 100 percent safe scenario, KT-22 would never spin.

The fatal slides at Palisades, Silver Mountain, and Taos highlight a disconnect in ski resort messaging that I’ve witnessed throughout my lifelong involvement with snow sports, including 25 years covering the subject as a journalist. Time and again, I see skiing marketed to the masses as , or as a luxury lifestyle choice for the wealthy. The truth, of course, is that skiing can be hazardous, and sometimes it can be deadly. But rarely have I ever seen resorts communicate the dangers of the sport to customers with the same vigor as they do plugging the fluffy accouterments. Ski resorts should start treating customers like adults, and stop pretending skiing and snowboarding are as safe as a fancy cruise鈥攎inus the hot tub norovirus.

There are reasons why approachability eclipses danger in resort messaging, of course. During my time covering the sport I’ve regularly seen executives promoted to the C-suite from marketing and guest services positions, but rarely have I seen ski patrollers rise to the same levels. Take a look at bios for executives at the two biggest resort companies in the world鈥� and 鈥攊f you want proof.

Yes skiing can be family-friendly and luxurious, but it is also risky to varying degrees. That鈥檚 true of that blue run you just dragged your rookie boyfriend up without a lesson, and it鈥檚 also true of the steep avalanche terrain that you鈥檙e standing on top of waiting for the rope to drop. After a few flurries of inbounds avalanche fatalities in the past two decades, I believe most seasoned skiers and snowboarders understand the avalanche risk. Everyone else should read the lengthy online waiver that greets you before you buy your pass.

Except nobody reads waivers. I鈥檝e addressed the need for skiers to be a bit more self-reliant in previous columns. But I think that marketing departments for ski resorts also need to do a better job of acknowledging and even鈥攅gads鈥攁ddressing the risks: collisions on overcrowded slopes; long falls on iced-over runs; tree well suffocation; and yes, inbounds avalanches. Scan headlines from local newspapers over the past few months you will see of at North American resorts. Communicating the dangers of skiing in an adequate way will require a cultural shift at many resorts. That’s because the business model is about attracting the highest volume of customers and resorts don鈥檛 want to scare anyone off.

Resort skiing has always been a volume play. Lift lines in the seventies were routinely an hour long. They used to sell hot dogs and beer as you waited, and you had time for a second beer. Today, the lines move faster, but the resort conglomerates carry on that volume-first tradition by selling cheap season passes. I鈥檝e argued in the past that those products are good because they can help bring new users, and maybe someday, diverse users, into skiing and snowboarding, which otherwise would have gone into a steady decline. But high volume comes at the cost of the experience and the safety of the guests. Ask any patroller at a resort where you feel as though you鈥檙e dodging other humans like bamboo gates why most accidents happen, and off the record he or she will say, “It鈥檚 the crowding.”

Again, I鈥檓 not calling out any specific ski resort here, certainly not Palisades, which, besides a misguided notion to rebrand one of the steepest ski areas in North America as a family ski hill about a decade ago has a well-earned extreme vibe and, last I heard, one of the best snow safety teams in the business. (I was complicit in that softer marketing. I produced their marketing magazine, which was full of low angle skiing and snot-nosed kids and by edict from above none of the steep skiing the mountain is famous for.) What I鈥檓 calling out is this: Resorts can feel free to market the that they love so much in these days of massive income inequality, but they also need to message that skiing comes with challenges and struggle and self reliance and, yes, risk. Even mellow resort skiing requires as much dedication to skills training and fitness as mountain biking and surfing. Backcountry skiing comes with the gravitas of whitewater, big wave surfing, and alpinism. Skiing on avalanche terrain鈥攏o matter if it’s inbounds or out鈥攕hould take years of skills development to get to that level. Skiing and snowboarding are epic because the sports beat you down. Mountains are iconic because they鈥檙e unforgiving.

Some resorts already get that. They tend to be the ones that market themselves as ski 鈥渁reas鈥� not ski 鈥渞esorts.鈥� Arapahoe Basin in Colorado, which was just purchased by Alterra, and cut skier volume a few years ago to preserve the experience, is one. I hope that management style will continue. Fernie, which is avalanche-challenged by slopes above the resort, is another. Alta, Utah, the birthplace of snow science and avalanche mitigation in the U.S., is a third. When the Alta sheriff tells you to move your car because it will get buried overnight, you tend to pay attention. In Europe, everyone knows that if you ski off-trail you are in the backcountry and you could die.

The corresponding spatial awareness, mountain sense, and self reliance you see at burlier ski areas can and should be encouraged everywhere. When Bridger Bowl, Montana, first opened the short and steep zones that runs above the lower ski area, they required skiers to carry avalanche beacons鈥攖he rest of the avy gear is advised. They carried on that tradition when they opened the steep Slushman鈥檚 zone in the 2000s. There鈥檚 a similar deal at Delirium Dive in Canada鈥檚 Sunshine Village. There鈥檚 only one way to access that legit extreme terrain, and you need gear and a partner to do it. Crystal Mountain, Washington, has a related, if grayer, policy for its Southback zone which they mitigate for avalanches but recommend skiing with avy gear and a partner at the access gates.

My favorite ski area in North America is Silverton Mountain in Colorado. The year Jenny and Aaron Brill opened Silverton, I skied and reported a story there for Powder magazine. The wider industry and avalanche community was predicting doom for the enterprise because every inch of Silverton Mountain is avalanche terrain in one of the most slide-prone parts of the world. The Brills sold Silverton recently, but the ski area they founded succeeded through endless mitigation, a guided-only policy in mid-winter, and a no-bullshit attitude that emphasized showing respect to the mountain. At Silverton, the guides will ridicule you rather than let you get cavalier. This is both hilarious and necessary. When it comes to unguided skiing and snowboarding, Silverton customers treat the terrain like backcountry. At Silverton, you feel a little nervous twinge before you ski. We shouldn鈥檛 turn that switch off at fancier resorts just because they have marble counters in the shitters.

It will likely never happen because of legal concerns and greed, but in my worldview, many North American ski areas should require avy gear and partners in certain zones. The requirement brings a lot of benefits. For one, it can reduce the stigma or perceived stigma of carrying safety gear inbounds. In Utah recently during a big storm cycle, I watched a few locals snicker at some vacationers skiing with packs inbounds. Yeah, one skier had a shovel strapped to a hydration pack and didn鈥檛 have high style points, but his mindset was correct. When gear is required for certain zones, more guests will be wearing beacons in transmit mode. That鈥檚 an easy win. And second, like the strenuous hike up Aspen Highlands鈥� eponymous bowl, gear helps to filter skiers. Meaning, the people that probably shouldn鈥檛 be skiing your gnarliest terrain might think better of it.

The timing is right for this cultural shift. Backcountry skiing and snowboarding are no longer niche pursuits. There are enough skiers with gear and training to change how avalanche terrain is managed. Hell, while requiring gear won鈥檛 bring your ski area more cash, it will bring more cachet. You can market adventure again instead of pots of molten cheese and those hot stones they put on your back at the spa.

But the bigger benefit in nudging this cultural shift forward is that in carrying gear and trusting in a partner, skiers also learn to trust themselves. If we as skiers and snowboarders do that, then maybe the insanity of an inbounds powder day can move subtly in the direction of smarter skiing, with customers having conversations about the hazards, buddying up, poking around cautiously at times, and looking out for one another. That last bit might be wishful thinking. But even if all ski areas do is require safety gear and partners in certain zones, at the least we鈥檇 be a lot faster on the rescues.

The post Skiing Isn鈥檛 Just a Luxury Experience. It鈥檚 a Dangerous Sport. appeared first on 国产吃瓜黑料 Online.