Ever notice that some mornings you don’t exactly roll out of bed? You might hobble, slide, or ask your partner to hire a crane. As you move through the morning, although the initial foray to the kitchen took ten minutes, you begin setting PRs so that by the time you’re ready to hit the shower, you’re doing laps around the house in less than 30 seconds. 

Why is that? Why do we start out so stiff and subsequently loosen up so nicely? It’s because of The Fuzz.

Gil Hedley famously dubbed the build-up between our tissues The Fuzz. When we are still for long periods of time (as when sleeping), The Fuzz accumulates, resulting in stickiness and limited mobility between our tissues which normally slide smoothly. Daily stretching can address The Fuzz. However, when we are injured and don’t use the affected body part for a couple of days, The Fuzz builds up until we may need help from a physical therapist or massage therapist to restore range of motion.

This is one reason why Essentrics® leaves you feeling more mobile and energized. You are warming and stretching the body’s tissues so that they slide, you can move more easily - and you have done away with The Fuzz for the day. This is also why massage can help decrease pain and improve range of motion - manually working the tissues eliminates The Fuzz.

I’ve included Gil Hedley’s amazing video The Fuzz Speech here. The Fuzz Speech is one of my very favorite videos because he does such an excellent job of explaining this concept. 
Word of warning: the video includes shots of cadaver tissue to illustrate his point. 

​Originally published July 28 2022

​Twyla Tharp is my kind of person. Her daily habit for years was to rise at 5:30 am, hail a cab outside her New York City apartment, and head to Pumping Iron Gym for two hours of weight lifting and stretching. 

She’s also a proponent of getting better as we get older. Big movements, taking up space with the body, creating, and engaging, all contribute to this remarkable human being continuing to lead a vital life.

If you are not familiar with Twyla Tharp, neither was I until just a few weeks ago. I happened to run across her book “The Creative Habit,” a New York Times Bestseller, and checked it out because it looked interesting. I have since discovered that she is one of the most influential dancers and choreographers in our time. In 1973 she created “Deuce Coupe,” the first “crossover ballet” to combine modern and classical in one piece.

In “The Creative Habit,” Ms. Tharp discusses how consistent practice and process is a foundation for her work. In addition to her gym routine which set her foundation for strength and agility, she described the initial stages of her creative process. For example, with each new idea for a project, she’d start a large box. In would go her initial project notes. Then CDs of music, videos, and those were followed up by in-depth research, so that she had a wealth of material to draw from when she choreographed the final dance. This consistent process of using the box provided an organized structure for her brilliant creations, like the Tony-award winning “Movin’ Out,” a musical set to the tunes of Billy Joel. The final box count for the Billy Joel project: twelve.

Twyla Tharp is now 81 years of age, and literally going strong. In this Twyla Tharp Video: Shut Up and Do What You Love, you can watch her cranking out push-ups as a part of her current morning routine. She also continues to choreograph - her latest work is a retelling of two pieces created in the ‘80s. Twyla Tharp: New York Times Article Oct 2022

What can we learn from her? She’s got some ideas in this Twyla Tharp Video: Lessons from Keep It Moving. 

My big picture takeaway is that consistently moving and strengthening the physical body, using the mind to engage, cultivating a spirit of resilience, and continuing to make what we like to make with whatever form our creativity takes, all contribute to us getting better as we get older.

Originally published January 26, 2023

The main entrance of the J. Marriott Library catches your attention not with books but with a bill-board sized group picture of students in their Utah-red polo shirts next to equally gigantic letters: U BELONG. And having spent the better part of the last two days here, I definitely feel that spirit of welcome and friendliness, from the individual students themselves to the man in the white button-down checking in with folks in the dorm dining hall to be sure they understand how to order their food online, to the residence assistant Trinity hanging out at the entrance door to the dorm tower. I learned from Trinity where to get a mallet (to raise Charlotte’s bed to a bunk), and where the very coldest water-filling station was (a relief in the very hot temps). 

In a previous post I wrote about the waterfall in front of the library - constructed from light earthy-colored tiles nestled around a small grove of conifers. But I did not yet write about the library’s glass pyramids, reminiscent of the Louvre, set at the east edge of the large open plaza that fronts the library doors.

The University of Utah Library is almost as old as I am, opening its doors in 1968. The dedication, in May of that year, was by Wallace Stegner, Pulitzer prize winning author, environmental activist, and professor at University of Utah. Among his students: Wendall Berry, Raymond Carver, and one of my all-time favorites, Edward Abbey. Stegner wrote The Wilderness Letter in 1960, a letter that urges government protection for wild lands. In 1964 this letter was used to introduce the bill to establish the National Wilderness Preservation System. This brief Stegner bio includes an excerpt of the letter. It is an appeal, both spiritual and physical: wilderness is vital, and it is imperative to protect those places. Looking to the nearby mountains, and even to the nods around campus to wild spaces via  sizeable shade trees, vibrant blooming flowers, and open expanses of grass, Stegner’s words resonate. 

Fittingly, Wallace Stegner’s papers are housed in the library, though it was rededicated in 1969 as the J. Willard Marriott Library after J. Willard Marriott, Sr. contributed $1 million for library collections. Several renovations and expansions later, the library is now five floors and 516,000 square feet. The main entrance enters the third floor; floors one and two, and the bulk of the library's square footage, is underground. The open plaza I mentioned above (and in the foreground of the photo) is actually the roof of the lower two library floors!

According to the librarian who spoke with me over the phone, since the major part of the building is below ground, emergency exits are key. The glass pyramids seen in the plaza function as skylights, letting light into the lower floors, and are a part of the emergency exit system. And, according to one post I found, those skylit areas deep in the library are great study spots. 

Despite quite a bit of time searching for more information on the skylights, like when the pyramids were constructed, why that structure was selected, who designed them, I found nothing except the study spot post. I was curious if pyramids have any significance in Utah, and found this article on the Summum Pyramid tucked in the middle of a suburban Salt Lake City neighborhood that was constructed in 1979. There doesn’t seem to be a link to the library pyramids.

Not finding connections from other sources, I consider the possibilities. There are the pyramid shaped glass skylights that offer a lovely and mysterious aesthetic. The structures are a mimicry of their mountain backdrop. And there is the symbolism of allowing light to shine into the depths of a building which houses vast amounts of documented knowledge and actively pursued learning.

Source/Learn More
University of Utah: Library History

Between the towns of Ouray and Silverton in southwest Colorado is a portion of Highway 550 known as the “Million Dollar Highway.” You might guess that it gets the name from the stunning vistas of verdant valleys rising to 13,000-foot peaks, including scarlet iron-ore slopes of Red Mountain, and perhaps you’d be right. There are a number of possible explanations for the name Million Dollar Highway, and my curiosity was piqued after a recent trip over the highway.

Last Saturday I drove my daughter and a friend of hers to Molas Pass, just south of Silverton, so that the two of them could rendezvous with friends on the Colorado Trail. That group of three had been on the trail about a month since starting in Denver. We were to meet up with them and from there the united group of five would finish by hiking the rest of the trail into Durango together, about 75 miles as the boots hike from Molas Pass. 

Along Highway 550 I was stealing glimpses of scenery that was literally breathtaking. The lookout point just outside of Ouray is called “The Switzerland of America” for good reason. Once we got to the Million Dollar section south of Ouray though, I was oblivious to the views. There is virtually no shoulder, the road curves around what looked to my height-frightened eye to be 10,000-foot drop-offs, and, contributing to my nausea, there are no guardrails. 

No guardrails? This makes it easier for snowplows to push the snow off the road. 
Snow? Ice? And they keep it open? Yep. The road is open year-round, but drivers are strongly urged to check weather conditions before driving the highway. Good idea. If I spied a snowflake within ten miles of that road, I wouldn’t drive that highway for a million dollars! And that is precisely another theory as to how the road got its name.

Other possible explanations for the name Million Dollar Highway have to do with the rumored cost of $1 million in gold and silver to build it and the expensive tolls that were charged - $5 per wagon or the equivalent of $150 today. Originally conceived and constructed by Civil War Veteran Otto Mears in the late 1800’s, the idea was to connect remote mining towns in the area. Wanting a more direct route to transport goods, in 1882 Mears purchased a controlling interest in a toll road company and the road was completed in 1883. The pricey charge to use the route cost Mears the road; in 1887 the state of Colorado took ownership of the Million Dollar Highway as a result of complaints from miners and merchants unhappy with the high tolls.

When we reached Silverton I was feeling relieved and a bit accomplished: we hadn’t died. We drove up to the Molas Pass overlook in hopes of intersecting with our intrepid hikers. They were not there. We took a spin through the Molas Lake Campground - no dice. We drove up and down Molas Pass, trying to find that sweet spot of internet connection long enough to communicate. In a last-ditch effort we were headed down to the Silverton Visitor’s Center when a text squeaked through that the Three Musketeers were indeed at the Molas Lake Campground - apparently we’d missed them when we drove through earlier. We high-tailed it there to find them googly-eyed over the food in the tiny campground store. 

When the last of the three made it out of the store with a happy grin and a hot burrito, everyone and their gear piled into my car. We looked like the Beverly Hillbillies. And smelled like the Beverly Hillbillies’ goats. The three that had been on the trail were ripe. So ripe in fact that we had to keep the windows completely rolled down as we headed back to Silverton to re-supply. 

After the shopping expedition it was back up to the campground. Once I’d dropped off the smelly, smiling and awesome crew, and given my daughter 83 hugs, kisses and “I love you’s,” I headed home. I was driving over the Million Dollar Highway one more time. 

Sources/Learn More
Ouray Film Festival article on The Million Dollar Highway
Action Tour Guide: History of the Million Dollar Highway

​Three decades ago exploring the trails at the top of Steamboat Boulevard was a solitary adventure. The Sanctuary was not a thing, and the boulevard ended just after the bridge over Fish Creek. I loved my runs up to that bridge, looking at Fish Creek flowing below. It was where I went the day I learned that my Great Aunt Dorie had passed. When I was a kid and we’d just arrived to visit family in Glen Burnie, Maryland, the grown-ups would stand around gabbing forever. Aunt Dorie would whisper, “would you like to go to the stream?” And we’d head to the little bridge over Sawmill Creek, skipping stones and discussing important matters like snakes and black cherry soda. 

These days I still meander the trails around Fish Creek. There’s a lot more folks around, and I pass by many houses to get there, but the sound of the water rushes through my head, the ferns bordering the trail gently graze my legs, and the scent of lush undergrowth and earthy pine fill my nostrils. The best way to wrap up the day.

The other evening something caught my attention. A beam of the sunset lit up a large round cluster on one of the spruce branches - like the tree was offering up a giant bowl of golden grapes. Looking closer I was bemused by the mounded cluster of green and orange needles. Kind of like the tree, but not. I then noticed quite a few trees in the entire area were similarly adorned. 

These clusters are known as Witches’ Brooms, so-named long ago because it was thought the affected trees were a place for the witch to rest and conveniently park the vehicle (broom) as well. We now know that the brooms are a symptom of the fungus Chrysomyxa arctostaphyli, causing Spruce broom rust. Melampsorella caryo-phyllacearum causes Fir broom rust. To be honest I can’t tell the difference between spruce and fir and I am not a needle-roller. Apparently spruce needles are square and roll easily between your fingers, and fir needles are flat and do not roll. Hm. 

The fungus can cause weakness in the tree, and eventually death. And the fungus, in order to get going at all, needs an alternate host, which in this area is the bearberry. The spores develop on the bearberry and then are blown by the wind to infect the trees. Large, mature trees are sometimes more susceptible as there is more area to target, and infections are influenced by microclimatic conditions and the distribution and abundance of hosts, according to this US Forest Service article. 

The article offers up management suggestions: remove affected trees, remove dead trees. My favorite suggestion is to “maintain as many live trees as possible.”