​​Colorado is known for its abundant sunny days. According to a Google search, Colorado boasts 300 sunshiny days to Florida’s 230, even though Florida nabbed the Sunshine State title. 
Especially noticeable after a cloudy day (or hour), the way we feel after some time in the sun speaks for itself. Usually we feel energized, our outlook is brighter, and we’re in a pretty good mood. Read on to learn more about the sun’s benefits.

Not just about the D
When our skin is exposed to direct sunlight our body sets about producing vitamin D. Supplementation with vitamin D has become a common strategy in recent decades, with concern about too much sun exposure causing skin cancer.

But sunlight does more than just help us produce vitamin D. For example, sunshine helps set our circadian rhythms, regulating serotonin and melatonin levels, so that we sleep better at night. Interestingly, sunlight that enters our eyes affects areas in the retina which trigger the release of serotonin, the “feel-good” hormone. Some people experience SAD (Seasonal Affective Disorder) with the shorter winter days (less chance for the sunlight to help create serotonin), and light therapy can help. Healthline article on the Benefits of Sunlight.

Sun exposure may have other important health benefits. In this Karger Journal Review, authors found a correlation between increased sun exposure and decreased blood pressure and cardiovascular mortality, independent of vitamin D. 

Sunlight can even lessen pain! This Medical News Today article explains that UVB rays cause the skin to produce beta-endorphins. Here are a few of the beta-endorphin benefits: reduce pain and depression, help wounds heal, increase alertness, and improve mood. 

Moderation in all things
Lest we get the bright idea to run around outside all day without protection, the article also gives a suggested time limit of 15 minutes in the sunshine before coating yourself with sunscreen.

​Originally published August 2022

Here in Steamboat Springs, most are familiar with the Yampa Valley Curse, which holds that once a person has come here, they never leave or if they do, they are inexorably drawn back to stay for good. Some claim they came for the skiing but stayed for the glorious though too-short summers. Then there’s the oft-seen bumper sticker “came for the skiing, stayed for the library” supporting the Bud Werner Memorial Library. 

I am one of those afflicted with the Yampa Valley Curse. It is the powder skiing that first drew me, the summer trail time that I now live for, and something else. There is a spirit of hard work and generosity in this valley. Many folks who’ve come here have given up better paying jobs or a less-demanding winter elsewhere to be here with the opportunity to be outside most of the year: skiing, mountain biking, trail running, paddleboarding, hiking, just to name a few. The generosity is evident in the over 150 non-profits serving residents in the Yampa Valley, which has an estimated population of 25,000. People who live here both full and part-time give their time and money freely: from contributing huge amounts of food to LiftUp during the recent SNAP cuts, to serving Community Thanksgiving Dinners, to turning out in support of events like Integrated Community’s ‘Boat Cruise fundraiser.

This readiness to show up is something I am both grateful for and in awe of. It is something I try not to take for granted. And now I am hopeful that all of this giving really does benefit the giver in a tangible way, even beyond the emotional satisfaction and psychological boost. 

In a study published this past fall, researchers determined that helping others may reduce cognitive aging by 15-20%. Unlike crosswords and Sudoku, volunteering formally or simply lending a hand involve social interaction and physical activity which are correlated with slowing cognitive aging. These brain effects accumulate over time, so as you continue to volunteer, your brain continues to reap the rewards. Interestingly, when study subjects ceased their helping out due to illness or change in life circumstances, cognitive decline increased. 

It is important to note that helping out can be both formal volunteering or informally pitching in - walking a neighbor’s dog or shoveling their walk for example. And the time involved is not huge - two to four hours per week seems to be the ideal amount. If life circumstances change, you can still be engaged in meaningful ways, an example being the Heart of Steamboat Methodist Church’s program to call folks on the phone during Covid. Those conversations helped decrease the isolation and maintain vital connections. 

There is that old saying, “it is better to give than to receive.” In the case of brain health, this would seem to be a truism.

Source/Learn More
​Optimism Daily: Want to keep your brain young? Helping others just a few hours a week may do the trick

​Walking along a trail, whether concrete or dirt, your feet will at some point bring you to a tree - one or several. You might pass right by, mind elsewhere. Or you might notice the distinctive scent of evergreen. You might feel tempted to touch the dark knot perfectly framed by white aspen bark, or the drip of sap running down the rough conifer trunk. You might gaze upward, marveling at the height - imagine being that tall - and smile at the squirrels leaping through the branches in their acrobatic games of tag. You might see a woodpecker drilling for its next meal, or hear a songbird brightening the day with its tune.

What would it be like to be up high amongst the sturdy boughs, cradled by the green giant? To be nestled within thick foliage, unseen from below and able to gaze far across the landscape, enjoying the bird’s eye view. To feel the breeze move your hair as the leaves rustle. To breathe in the dusty earth smell on an afternoon in August , or the cool wet of a drizzly October morning.

*****
An arboreal abode, a home in the trees, a tree house. How I longed for a fort in the trees when I was growing up, and that longing continued when my own daughter Charlotte was young. We made do with reading the Magic Tree House books by Mary Pope Osborne. The stories were terrific, but more about the fantastic adventures the tree house transported Annie and Jack to, rather than the tree house itself. The Sorcerer’s Crossing, a favorite book of mine, involved a character who lived in a tree in order to become more self-aware. The first night she moved into the tree house there was a violent thunderstorm  but she was safe in the little tree house while the tree thrashed about.

Spending time in trees, and nature in general, we know is beneficial for our health. Though we all can’t take part in the tree house experience the way the Swiss Family Robinson did, we can look into biophilic design. Biophilic refers to love of life and all that is alive. The design concept consists of three parts:

1. Utilizing direct nature: bringing trees, plants, water features indoors.
2. Utilizing indirect nature: specific use of materials and images.
3. Utilizing the space itself to create feelings one has in nature: secluded spaces for privacy and peace, partially hidden spaces to create a sense of exploration and wonder.

An example of this design is found in greenscrapers, or vertical forests, where trees and shrubs are integrated into the outdoor spaces of a many-storied structure. The overall effect transforms the building into a spectacular oasis, human-made straight edges and sharp angles softened with verdure. 

Biophilic design can be found in office spaces, upscale city apartment dwellings, and even low-income housing. The greenery of the buildings, as well as parks and dedicated green spaces, not only provides a connection to nature for those who live there, but can also cool the environment, as cities become “heat islands” with all their concrete and asphalt.

Living amongst the trees isn’t just a childhood fantasy - it is a very real way to connect mind, body, environment and good health with nature.


Sources/Learn More
Optimist Daily: Architects embrace trees to bring nature in and redefine home design
Green Oasis: What is Biophilic Design?

​Have you ever experienced a hand meditation? Many years ago, in massage school, we did a hand meditation one night. I worked full-time and went to school at night. Attending the night program at the Boulder College of Massage Therapy meant I’d have my certification in two years. It also meant the folks in my cohort were a tight bunch of people, having been together through thick and thin for all that time.

The night we did the hand meditation still lingers in my memory. We were in a large, carpeted room. The lights were dim, and we sat on round cushions or directly on the floor, spread out so we each had plenty of space. Our instructor, Aaron, led the lesson, starting with simply gazing at our hands, taking in the lines, the quality of the skin, the color of the flesh. We tuned in to how our hands felt: hot or cold, achy or tight, stiff or supple. 

We were then invited to remember all of the things our own hands had done in our lives: wiping a countertop clean, painting a watercolor, folding laundry, strumming a guitar, touching the petal of a rose, dusting snow off a coat, catching a ball, washing our face, stroking our dog behind the ears, hammering a nail to hang a picture, warming the hand of a grandparent, turning the pages of a book, caressing the cheek of a partner, watering a plant, writing a letter, slicing vegetables, pouring coffee, typing an email, playing the piano, holding a child’s hand, lifting a glass of water to our lips.

When we stop to think about it, take a quiet pause to ponder our hands throughout our lives, we realize that they have taken part in every moment. Our hands hold the story of our lives.

*****
In honor of our hands, and in the stark reality of our current flu season, here's a reminder of the simple and effective way to prevent spreading illness: washing with old-fashioned soap and water for 20 seconds is the way to go!
UC Health: Why soap and water work better than hand sanitizer to remove viruses and germs

​Ever notice that when you are having a bad day, or are so overly irritated with your significant other, co-worker, sibling, best friend, etc., a laugh can change the entire day and/or situation? You feel better in your body, the crankiness dissipates, you reconnect with that person, and you feel human again.

Laughter does that. It bonds us, benefitting relationships and our own sense of well-being. It has a host of physical benefits: burns calories, reduces stress, releases endorphins, increases immune system function, and supports our heart health. Having laughter in our lives benefits our mental and emotional health by reducing anxiety, increasing relaxation, and supporting resilience. Wow. If this were a prescription drug we’d be in line now. 

In this article about the benefits of laughter, there is a great list of ideas about how to bring more laughter into your life. Spending time with funny people, doing something silly, and sharing a joke or funny story are some of the suggestions.

Here’s something to get you started: a video of a juggler explaining the benefits of laughter - funny and silly! Maybe taking up juggling might be one of your new hobbies!

I’m lucky to have grown up with some silliness in my own family. Don’t get my mom and dad started with my daughter about the Snallygaster. My Grandmother Martha used to tell slightly smutty jokes with such cool elegance she would have had the queen giggling into her teacup. And my Grandmother Bootsie, with her incredible resilience and a twinkle in her eye, offered me this wisdom gleaned from her lifetime of physical challenges: “Well, you can laugh or you can cry. So you may as well laugh.” 

Originally published July 2022

The humid evening air is warm and gentle on my skin. The last of the golden light overhead fades to darkness under the trees. It’s summer in the 1970’s in a small Maryland town, and I’m with my family - mom, dad, grandma, and my aunt, walking to my great-grandparents’ home just up the street. My grandpa drove, not because he had to, just because he could. Across a large lawn, tucked under some low-growing trees and against a lush hedge, my grandma points out little flickers of light. I run over (no fences keeping me out) to see, floating all around me, tiny lanterns that glow bright, go dark, and light up again. Fireflies, or lightning bugs. They are elusive, delicate, and mesmerizing. I am entranced. 

Fireflies are actually a type of beetle. Their on-again, off-again glimmer is the result of bioluminescence, caused by chemicals in the tail-end of their bodies (called the lantern) that create light. This luminescence can be used to attract mates or to ward off potential predators. Some savvy females even use their light to snare unwary males from different firefly groups in order to devour them. The firefly’s largest meals however, are consumed in the larval stage after hatching from the egg (in July or August), in which they eat their fill of soft-bodied invertebrates such as slugs, worms and snails. They snug down into the ground or under tree bark in order to survive the winter. 

I haven’t yet seen fireflies in Colorado, and assumed they only existed in more humid climates. But fireflies can be found here, near areas of fresh water such as creeks, rivers, lakes and hot springs. They can be best seen at night after 9pm in forests, meadows and fields near these water sources. Unfortunately, firefly populations are threatened due to loss of habitat, pesticide use, and light pollution which confuses mating fireflies. 

Since 2017, researchers at the Butterfly Pavilion in Westminster, Colorado, have been rearing and studying fireflies in order to understand more, and with the end goal to help boost the firefly population. This is painstaking work - so far just a few fireflies have been successfully raised. Recently, one female went through the entire life cycle - she hatched at the Butterfly Pavilion, and went through each successive stage through adulthood, when she herself laid eggs. 

There are ways to get involved: you can become a community scientist to help track firefly populations in Colorado or you can take a firefly tour. And ways to protect: support land conservation and habitat restoration, don’t capture fireflies, and turn off outdoor lights in wetland areas June through August.

I hope to someday take an evening walk near a wetland area and catch a glimpse of the magical fireflies once again. 


Sources/Learn More

• The Butterfly Pavilion: Firefly Lifecycle Project
• The Butterfly Pavilion: Colorado Firefly Watch
• Colorado Gardner: Fireflies and the allure of light

​​In the first dozen years of this century, much of my massage work was with residents and staff of a retirement community in Boulder. Parkinson’s Disease (PD) was something I saw quite a few of my clients deal with over the years. And I saw how the symptoms were so individual: one client exhibited extreme tremors, one had difficulty speaking, and one would be out for a walk and freeze in the middle of crossing the street.

Parkinson’s Disease (PD) is a progressive neurological movement disorder. The dopamine-producing neurons in the part of the brain called the substantia nigra become damaged or die. PD affects not just movement, but voice volume, mental health, sleep, facial expression and body language, and can cause pain, decreased movement on one side of the body, and cognitive impairment including poor memory and dementia.

From my perspective, PD is a condition of loss, and can be difficult and demanding for both the person diagnosed and the person caring for them. There are medications and interventions like Deep Brain Stimulation which can help. Importantly, exercise can mitigate symptoms and is thought to help slow progression. 

In Boulder, a man I knew with PD developed an exercise class specifically for those living with Parkinson’s. It was helping him and helping many of the people taking his class. I learned his method and taught for the first few years after I moved back to Steamboat. I know that the folks who came to class had rough days, but we sure had a lot of fun in that class.

Dance for PD, a program developed by Mark Morris Dance Group in NYC, holds classes for people with PD. The collaboration between people living with PD and the members of Mark Morris is beautifully shown in the film Capturing Grace. It is striking how a person’s movements might be jerky or uncontrolled, but turn on the music and that same person is dancing beautifully across the room. 

Much of the research in the past 30 years was focused on finding the genetic cause of PD. But from more recent research, it looks like although genetics may set a person up for PD or other chronic conditions, it is environmental exposure to toxic chemicals that trigger the condition to develop. 

One such chemical is TCE (trichloroethylene), which is also substantially linked to cancer. There is a significant amount of the stuff in the groundwater under Lejeune Marine Corps Base Camp in North Carolina, and Marines stationed there were breathing it in each time they turned on the faucet. One researcher found that Marines at Lejeune were 70% more likely to develop PD than Marines at Camp Pendleton in California whose water is not contaminated with TCE. 

TCE was finally banned by the Environmental Protection Agency in December 2024, but in January 2025 the Trump administration rolled back the ban.  In general, the U.S. is behind the eight-ball when it comes to banning toxic chemicals - a move which would significantly reduce many chronic illnesses. There is even a new field called exposomics which looks at an individual’s exposure over their lifetime - because many of us do not know if we’ve been exposed, and if we have, to what. 

In the meantime, using water filters, air purifiers, and minimizing eating food in plastic may help reduce exposure. 

I think about the people I’ve known who were living with PD, and though some did amazingly well (usually those who had a consistent regimen of exercise, medication, healthy eating and support), how much better it would be if the chemicals that had likely caused their condition had been banned. Life would definitely be better. And I hope we can do better going forward.

Source/Learn More

• Wired article: Scientists Thought Parkinson’s Was in Our Genes. It Might Be in the Water

​It is a strange season here in Steamboat Springs. Following a November with warm days more reminiscent of September, Mother Nature eked out a few inches of snow the first week of December, and then daytime temps returned to the 40’s this week. The white stuff is melting away.

Having lived here in the early 90’s, my recollection is of cold and snowy Thanksgiving week ski area openings. I remember walking to work when the temp was -15’ and wondering if I would survive. (Not only did I live, I got so warm with the ridiculous amount of clothes I swaddled myself in I had to de-layer halfway there.) Since I moved back to Steamboat in 2013 some seasons were better than others, but never a start to the season this dry and warm. I’ve been thinking this is a first. Not so.

In December 1976, things were so bad at ski resorts in Colorado prayer services were being held for snow - daily. Locals in Steamboat headed to mid-mountain, shook snow off the trees onto plastic sheets and moved it to pack the runs. With only 29 inches of snow by early January 1977, the airlines cancelled the winter flights, lodging reservations were cancelled, and Colorado’s state senator was requesting emergency funding from President Ford. 

The Steamboat Ski Area closed that year on February 13. Hundreds of people were out of work. The closure and prior visitor cancellations had a huge impact on the entire town. When enough snow arrived to reopen in early March, even the schools closed to allow students and teachers to ski on what they dubbed “Steamboat Day.”

That 1976-1977 season was the impetus that eventually resulted in Colorado ski areas investing in snowmaking. Snowmaking allows for more consistent early season openings and a consistent base for later in the spring when warmer days begin to melt the snowpack.  

Clearly, this season, although the runs are few, snowmaking has provided the means for the area to open and remain so. The Wild Blue Gondola moves skiers to and from the colder and snowier south summit, avoiding the snowless lower slopes. 

We’ve come a long way since 1977. In both snowmaking and a fancy new gondola there’s a bit of an insurance policy, and with the generosity of this community, people out of work or working limited hours can get some help from LiftUp. 

In the face of our current snowless season, it feels encouraging to remember that we always have abundant years too. It is heartening to look at the story of the ‘76-’77 snow crisis and see how the locals pulled together and overcame the challenge. 

But I also can’t help wondering if these low-snow years will come more frequently than in the past. Something to think about.


Learn More/Source
Steamboat Pilot: Life Before Snowmaking

​Sam Berns’ 2013 TedX Talk, “My Philosophy for a Happy Life,” is on my mind for many reasons.

He was 17 when he spoke, and he lit up the stage with his humor, enthusiasm, descriptions of his challenges, and his approaches to those challenges. Some slices of his life he shared via pictures: he and his closest “goofball” friends, he and his supportive family, a video of him performing with his high school marching band on his specially engineered snare drum, and a snippet of the HBO documentary about him, “Life According to Sam.” 

Sam had a rare genetic disorder called progeria: 
Progeria (pro-JEER-e-uh), also known as Hutchinson-Gilford syndrome, is an extremely rare, progressive genetic disorder that causes children to age rapidly, starting in their first two years of life. Children with progeria generally appear normal at birth. (Mayo Clinic, Feb 1, 2018)

What is remarkable about Sam is not that he had this condition, but how he chose to live his life. In his TedX talk, his approach to a happy life is a description of  how to live life fully, and realistically. Fully because he whole-heartedly pursued his interests and deeply appreciated the friends and family who loved and supported him, realistically because he shared that he sometimes had bad days, and his strategy to move through those difficult times. 

What his talk elicited in me wasn’t so much count-my-blessings-that-I-do-not-have-to-cope-with- progeria-in-my-own-life, but rather the feeling of rising to a challenge. In some ways, Sam handed over the playbook of what to do when life throws this or that at you, how to keep marching towards the end zone, staying in the game because you keep playing, because you keep overcoming, because you are clear about what is meaningful in your life and you have the vision that you can do what you set out to do.

Sam Berns’ Philosophy of a Happy Life:

1. Be Ok with what you ultimately can’t do, because there is so much you CAN do.
2. Surround yourself with people you want to be around.
3. Keep moving forward.
4. Never miss a party if you can help it.

Watch the TedX Talk: Sam Berns - My Philosophy for a Happy Life


Originally published April, 2023

It's 5:00am. I switch on my light, wrap myself in my fleece-lined flannel while still under the warm covers, and reluctantly get out of bed. While my tea water boils I look out the window to determine my clothing choices - the snow is blowing sideways and there’s plenty on the ground. Shortly after 5:30 I head out the door, swathed in layers from head to toe, headlamp beaming into the dark, my Salomon spiked running shoes biting into the icy snow.

By the time I make it back, around 8:30, I’ve done battle with Mr. Grumpy in an old work truck outfitted with a plow up on Fish Creek Falls Road, avoided SUVs filled with eager families racing down Steamboat Boulevard to the ski mountain, and, though I’ve been snacking and sipping from my running vest, I’m hungry, tired, and ready for some hot coffee, even if it is decaf.

That was my Saturday morning routine last winter. I was training for the Run Through Time trail half-marathon in Salida last March, and my daughter and I compared notes on training all winter since she was doing it too. Most of my Saturday long runs involved some version of a blizzard, although there were a few clear mornings that were so frigid I got colder as the hours went by. That’s winter training.

I would not say that I looked forward to those long run days - and most especially I dreaded the run-ins with the foul-tempered snowplow driver. But I was highly motivated to get the miles in, wanting to be as prepared as possible for Salida.

This year is different. My daughter and I are doing the full trail marathon in Salida this coming March. After a decade away from trail running (with the sole exception of the half-marathon last March), I started training on Emerald Mountain in August. But instead of my long runs being something to be gotten through, I’ve discovered that running Emerald Mountain is my favorite thing to do. 

I’ve written about some of the things that make Emerald special (There’s No Place Like Emerald Mountain Part 1 of 3, and Emerald Mountain - More Than A Gem Part 2 of 3). But I’m also aware that it is running specifically that makes my time there so fulfilling. There is something singularly satisfying when trotting along those trails. Ducking under gnarled and blackened tree boughs on Eye to Eye’s crazy maze-like switchbacks. Climbing the steep Stairway to Heaven, knowing that it is getting me to the top as quickly as it can. Hudson alternating between sunny clearings and patches of woods ominous and dark from trees tightly packed. The quiet peace and long views to the west on Wild Rose, delicately sprinkled with a touch of white. Of course this could all be experienced at a walk. But it is the running, where even at my slow pace, there is a brief moment when both feet are off the ground. With each and every stride, I am flying, just that little bit. 

It could also be the endorphins. I’m up there long enough for the endorphins to come and go, and return again. The trail marathon, with its 4000 feet of climbing, might take me over 7 hours to complete. Although my longest run to date is only 4.5 hours, that is still tons of endorphin-marination for my body and brain.

But the other morning, I realized one of the key reasons that running on Emerald is my happy place. I headed up in a soft rain, which was pleasant until the build-up of heavy clay mud rendered my trotting to a slip-slide-squelch. With a bit more elevation the raindrops became snowflakes, the mud firmed up and gave way to snow. When I reached the top I paused before heading back down. All was hushed. The dark trees stood, eerie in the misty fog, their witches’ brooms prominent. The trail, carpeted in thick white, beckoned as it disappeared around a bend. 

Eager to accept the trail’s invitation, I headed down. I made my way towards Blackmere (the main dirt/gravel road up to the Quarry), aiming to hit it towards the bottom to avoid the worst of the muck I’d come through on the way up. Thus, I exchanged one trail for another all the way down - a mountain do-si-do: Stairway to Prayer Flag, a quick side step to Hudson, back to Prayer Flag, then Blair Witch to Larry’s. Navigating roots and rocks, up and around curvy switchbacks, pushing the pace on firm ground, tip-toeing through slushy puddles. 

In the midst of all this, it came to me: play. Yes - play - that was why I loved it up here - I was having a great time! I remembered how much fun Charlotte and I had one morning, even though we got separated, because we were always just missing each other on the trails, always nearby but not close enough to see one another. It was like playing a game of tag with the mountain as our playground. 

I think Emerald is wise to this. It welcomes the sense of play, and the love of its stories and its history. Emerald Mountain is aware of the fact that there are silly humans like me running around its generous flanks, reveling at the way the icicles drip from horizontal branches as the sun rises, at the glimpse of a chestnut fox darting across a meadow, or a chocolate brown moose tranquilly chewing breakfast. Or the way the Tree Sprite gives me a wink at the end of every run.