As someone who enjoys tough, physical adventures in distinct locations, I was smitten with Ostman’s challenge to run a marathon on each continent. I was dying to know: How the heck did she run a marathon on Antarctica?
This memoir was a welcome companion during a long travel day that involved an international flight. It scratched my travel and adventure itch while offering unexpected insight about being in a second partnership/marriage. Plus, she has some humorous and poignant lessons from aspects of her inner self. Amid my own second wind in life (or third or fourth), I found the reflections on the play of independence and interdependence illuminating.
While I’ve pedaled solo across America, I’ve never run a marathon – or even a half marathon – but I’d like to try now.
Second Wind is the story of an unlikely athlete and an unlikely heroine: Cami Ostman, a woman edging toward midlife who decides to take on a challenge that stretches her way outside of her comfort zone. That challenge presents itself when an old friend suggests she go for a run to distract her from the grief of her recent divorce. Excited by the clarity of mind and breathing space running offers her, she keeps it up , albeit slowly , and she decides to run seven marathons on seven continents this becomes Ostman's vision quest, the thing she turns to…
The Nature Fix made me think a lot about my beliefs and experiences among trees and how much better I feel when I spend time in parks or wilderness than I do in cities. The book also got me curious about where and how I could spend five hours each month in high quality natural areas away from the hubbub of human activity. Willliams explores research with various nature “prescriptions,” and the five hour “fix” stuck with me as a useful gauge for how I spend my time --> less scrolling and concrete, more duff.
I’ve known on a gut level that spending time in nature is vital to human well-being, and I applaud Williams for assembling available research from around the planet that proves this point.
For centuries, poets and philosophers extolled the benefits of a walk in the woods: Beethoven drew inspiration from rocks and trees; Wordsworth composed while walking over the heath; Nikola Tesla conceived the electric motor while visiting a park.
From forest paths in Korea to islands in Finland to eucalyptus groves in California, Florence Williams investigates the science at the confluence of environment, mood, health and creativity. Delving into new research, she uncovers the powers of the natural world to improve health, promote reflection and innovation, and strengthen our relationships. As our lives shift indoors, these ideas-and the answers they yield-are…
I read Yeah, No. Not Happening. as a New Year’s gift to myself in one satisfying sitting. The book provided an antidote to the “self-improvery” swirling in social media spaces where I’d been endlessly scrolling to cure my melancholy and body hatred.
This book didn’t just say F* it to self-improvement but walked through a history of how women’s bettering ourselves became a thing. Karbo hilariously used herself as a guinea pig to go cold turkey on self-improvement. At the end of the book (sad), I felt less alone and knew that Karbo would be out there as a champion for me to be me no matter how I looked. And knowing she is there as support reopened the door for me to be my own champion.
The author of the acclaimed, bestselling In Praise of Difficult Women delivers a hilarious feminist manifesto that encourages us to reject "self-improvement" and instead learn to appreciate and flaunt our complex, and flawed, human selves.
Why are we so obsessed with being our so-called best selves? Because our modern culture force feeds women lies designed to heighten their insecurities: "You can do it all-crush it at work, at home, in the bedroom, at PTA and at Pilates-and because you can, you should. We can show you how!"
Karen Karbo has had enough. She's taking a stand against the cultural and…
When the 2008 recession hit, thirty-three-year-old me was single, underemployed, and needing a change. I returned to school, but my first term was not the liberating experience I had hoped. My gloom deepened. All I wanted to do was ride my bike. Then, an email sparked an idea that would have me pedaling all summer. In 2010, I departed from my home in Eugene, OR, to a historic roads conference in Washington, DC.
Propelled by my own grit, I never anticipated the dangers of suffocating heat in the heartland of the vast kindness of strangers. Heidi Across America offers a journey to self-love and respect for the people and spirit of place as pathways to find connection and home.
