a hike in rock creek park + transitions

All of the greatest experiences in my life have required me to adapt. To be uncomfortable until I know nothing else. To find joy and contentment in my initial discomfort. Living abroad was certainly that way. I didn't know how to eat with chopsticks when I arrived in Japan, let alone how to speak to my neighbors in Japanese or even how to work the washing machine. Every day there was a new challenge to tackle. Until suddenly, it all felt commonplace, comfortable, my new normal.

The same with going to school out of state. And taking my first solo trip. It was to Mozambique after a girlfriend bailed on me. I was scared out of my wits when I got to the airport and had to figure out how to get to my hostel. In the end, that trip lit an eternal flame in me for adventuring by myself, and for finding my way into - and out of - crazy situations.

Right now I'm going through it with living with Zander. We've planned and worked for this moment for a year, and now that it's here? It's uncomfortable and strange. How much food do we buy for two people? Do I have to watch another car/fishing show? Do we do our laundry together or separate? I'm so fiercely independent that the walls of that small one-bedroom apartment feel like they just don't have enough air sometimes. But I know with a little patience, and a whole lot of trial and error, this will become my new normal, too.

The same was true with adopting Theo. In fact, maybe more so than any other decision in my life. Adapting to his schedule, planning walks, skipping happy hours, hiring a dog walker, playing endless rounds of fetch, training him -- it didn't come 100% naturally to either of us. But now our routines are so intertwined that I don't need to set alarms anymore because he wakes me up at the exact same time every morning. And without thinking, when I get up from the couch to use the restroom or get a glass of water, I open the back door for him to go outside. As I brush my teeth in the morning, it's second-nature to pour him a cup of food.

If you follow me on Instagram, you might have seen a few of these pictures from a recent hike Zan and I took with Theo. Mr. Man (one of Theo's many, many nicknames*) is spending the summer (or at least a month or two) with my mom in Georgia until Zan and I can rent his place and find one of our own that allows dogs. It's a weird transition. My space feels awkward without Theo there to share it with, to insert himself right at my legs, or put his head on my lap, or to walk by my side in the woods.

It's strange, and it's awkward, but it's the right choice for right now. I thanked my mom for the billionth time the other day for taking care of him when she already has a dog and several cats and a bird (a zoo!) to take care of already, and she said, "This is what family is all about."

Before Theo made the long car ride down to Georgia, we took him on an early spring hike in Rock Creek Park. It looked like a gray day with clouds that threatened rain, but on the trail everything was golden, more like early fall than a persistent winter. It was a fairly easy hike, but Theo laid down in every puddle of mud he found, every pond he could stand in, and chased every stick Zander and I threw. That dog is seriously the joy of my life, you can't tell, right? He and Zander and some golden woods, and I am the luckiest.

A lot of things in my life are in transition right now. I'm leaving my job in less than a month to start an internship on Capitol Hill. I'll be in graduate school full time for two years after that. Zan and I have to move again in a month or two. Zan and I are making big decisions and asking big questions about what our future will look like now that my career is decided (and decidedly nomadic).

Many things right now are up in the air, but I know for a fact that I'll always look back at this time as one of the best of my life, uncomfortable transitions and all.

We hiked the 3 mile Northern Loop in Rock Creek Park. Check out Active Life DC for hike details! 

*Theo's other nicknames: Baby Bear, Pumpkin, Mama's Boy, Little Man, Munchkin Man, and Theodore (generally reserved for VIP guests and/or when he's ignoring me). Never, ever Teddy.

the scenic route to old town alexandria | 1

I've been romanticizing Old Town Alexandria. There are all sorts of historical tours, Robert E. Lee's childhood home is there, and I envisioned it would be rustic, charming, and a veritable time machine to another era in the region's past. I was sorely disappointed when I realized it's a mirror image of Georgetown, complete with the same retail-therapy lined main streets and converted old buildings into restaurants and pubs (with a few vague ghost stories attached). Although it wasn't quite what I hoped for, I did still marvel at the stunning rowhouses and quaint tree-lined backstreets.

But the best part of Alexandria, by far, was the journey out there. Zan and I have been talking about cycling out there for a while. A few weekends ago, we pushed ourselves out of bed a little earlier than normal on a Saturday morning, grabbed some coffee (him) and tea (me) and started cycling. Round trip, it's about 26 miles, and every inch of it is beautiful. From Cleveland Park, we took trails in Rock Creek Park down to the edge of the mall by the Lincoln Memorial, After crossing over Arlington Bridge, we navigated onto the Mt. Vernon trail and rode that all the way into Alexandria. 

We saw the last remnants of glorious fall foliage, made a pit stop at Gravelly Point Park to watch planes take off from Washington-National airport, and crossed over a rickety wooden bridge that made me swoon. Wisps of cottontails greeted us. Drifting leaves lazily floated by us as we rode. A swampy area with reeds and woods and birds singing a final fall song called for me to pause to take it all in. 

And as hard of a time as I'm giving Alexandria, I loved spending time in the Spice and Tea Exchange, where I nearly bought them out of spices and teas. And we enjoyed hot apple cider from a local coffeeshop we found tucked away on a backstreet. We devoured lunch in a converted historic building, and we lit up walking down the sidewalks already ablaze with twinkling holiday lights and music. 

I used to be such a fast traveler - packing in as much as possible in the short time I had. These days, I savor slowness, reaching a new city on bike or foot, seeing every detail in high definition that's usually a blur by car.

a walk in rock creek park | travel tuesday

Oh, in DC there's the White House and the Capitol Building, the National Mall, the original Constitution document and John Hancock's signature at the National Archives, and there's Dupont Circle and the Georgetown Waterfront and all the free Smithsonian museums. There's so much to see in DC that most tourists and visitors and even people who have lived here for longer than I have don't think to peek behind the stately and stunning neighborhood rowhouses to see what's hidden. But back there behind the urban beauty is Rock Creek Park, the nation's largest and oldest urban national park, spanning for 2,000 acres, filled with trail runners and cyclists. It is a bastion and an escape from the city and, honest to god, the prettiest, most underrated place in the whole of the nation's capital.

Zander and I have kind of sort of started talking about where we might want to live when we start looking for a place early next year. Three years ago, my criteria were cheap, public transportation-accessible, and happening, probably in that order. Now, my criteria is simply this: put me in walking distance to Rock Creek Park. That's it. That's all Theo and I need to be happy. And a wine bar for Zan. (Okay, and for me, too).

Next time you're in DC, put Rock Creek Park at the top of your to-do list. 

Where's your favorite spot to travel in your own backyard?

hay is for horses | yoga hikes dc

For a few years in elementary school, I would get off the school bus on the opposite side of the neighborhood from my house with two of my best friends who lived next door to one another. My friend Meghan's mom babysat me every week day until my mom came to pick me up after she got off work. Every so often, Meghan, Tiffany, and I would complement our mud pie appetizers in the woods with dinner at the Smith family's table. Meghan's dad had a ritual of asking every person to talk about the best part of their day. I don't know why, but the thing I most remember about those dinners is how much Meghan's dad hated when we - the kids - used the word "hey." We'd start our stories with it - "Hey Tiffany, remember when..." or "Hey Daniel, how'd you do on your spelling test?" And every single time, Meghan's dad would calmly say, "Hay is for horses." It became such a rote response that we would try to catch each other saying "hey" and beat him to the punch line.

I thought about the Smith family dinner table this weekend when I went on my first Yoga Hike. Yoga Hikes is a small, new DC company led by Danielle, who is awesome. She's an urban hiking enthusiast, runner, and yogi who thought, "Why not combine my loves and share them with the rest of the city?" I love that about our generation - we seem to have this willingness to go after and create our own career paths. It's brave and bold, and often the result is incredibly cool - like Yoga Hikes is. 

The hikes start at a couple of different locations in DC. Sonia and I signed up for a nature hike in Rock Creek Park. We hiked for 45 minutes and did 45 minutes of yoga. 

We started off in a large field at Pierce Mill with about 15 minutes of yoga. Danielle carried small mats, but we started off with just our bodies and the cool earth. It was a perfect morning for a yoga hike - in the 60s and slowly climbing to reach the mid-70s by afternoon, sun shining, and a nice breeze. One thing I noticed right away about this yoga is that even with simple poses and sun salutations, my arms were more engaged. Keeping your stomach, chest, and thighs off the ground means really working those arms. I can feel it today. 

The hike led us on trails through RCP that I'd never experienced. We wound our way uphill to a second field, where we were delighted to see a horse grazing. It was an incredible backdrop for the second set of yoga.

Before we reached the second yoga stop, in the first, ohhhh, 5 minutes of the hike - I stepped wrong on a paved path with a small drop off to a gravel and dirt one, twisted my ankle, and fell. I distinctly remember my view from the ground - nothing but pavement and embarrassment - only me! I tried to quickly jump back up - I've rolled my ankles in the past and been able to walk it off - but this was different (except for the time when I fell the same exact way on stage performing in a beauty pageant in 11th grade, but that's an embarrassing story for another time). I was in pain, but I didn't want to quit so early. I managed to finish the hike, but there wasn't a chance in hell my ankle could support yoga poses. 

Danielle was great about it. She asked me how I was feeling and how badly it was hurt after I stood back up. She tossed me an ice pack while I sat out the next yoga session and engaged me in taking a few photos while she offered other members of my group small adjustments. I loved how laid back she was and how I knew that while she was concerned, she trusted me to know my limitations.

I'm typing this now with my ankle still propped up with ice more than 24 hours later - I probably shouldn't have continued. But I'm stubborn, and I'm glad I did. It was a stunner of a morning, it felt great to see another part of this beautiful city I call home, and I can't believe I made such a novice mistake as not paying attention to my footing. Although, hey - it's easiest to get hurt when the trail seems simplest.

But then again, hay is for horses. 

if you go...

  yoga hikes dc

$25/yoga hike (great deals on packages)

length: 1.5-2.5 miles (need to use gps next time)

hike difficulty: easy

yoga difficulty: moderate/difficult (for me with no upper body strength!)

melvin hazen trail | rock creek park

The last few weeks have been some of the most stressful of my life. I don't say that lightly. In bold, open truth and probably too much disclosure, the only things I've ever faced that have left me as emotionally distraught, stressed out and overwhelmed are when my stepfather passed away last year, and fighting to afford to stay in college my freshman year (another story for another time?).

In fact, I hesitate to talk about it at all. I haven't been blogging much lately because I don't exactly know what to say. On Thursday, I wrote about trying ScratchDC, and within that, I talked a little bit about my housing situation - namely, that my roommate Matt and I haven't had heat. That barely scratches the surface of the whole story. Where to even begin?

Matt and I moved into our apartment in September. The rent and the space were both incredible, and we were in the very neighborhood we'd wanted to move. In the first 24 hours after moving in, we knew it was a mistake. The place was a mess. There is a pigeon nest outside of my bedroom window. There's no windowsill on that window ledge. A piece of cardboard was wedged between the AC unit and the remainder of the window to keep it stabilized. Pigeon poop, dirt and leaves covered my floor. Water leaked from the AC unit.

In every room, electrical wiring is exposed and windows hang loosely in their frames. There are cracks in the walls, and the bathroom floor is rotted beneath the tiles. The shower drips constantly, so mildew builds no matter how often we clean it.

We made a list of every problem we found that first weekend. We read through the DC tenant-landlord laws and DC housing code. We highlighted half a dozen housing code violations. We sat down with our landlord for a meeting. We ran through the list wit him, and he laughed at us, physically laughed. "You get what you pay for," he said. He continued to bully us - saying if we "worked" with him, he'd "take care" of us - like, maybe if we played nice, he'd replace the refrigerator that leaks and has two broken shelves.

Total strangers began to tell us that we messed up moving into one of our landlord's buildings. No less than three people said, "Take your rent and go. Get out if you can."

We persevered. 

We were scared. Professional bullies, and slumlords, in our case, are good at it - they're intimidating. And also, Matt and I are used to adversity. That's the only way to say it. I grew up with a single mom. She worked three jobs, and there were brief times where electricity was turned off or we waited a few months until we could afford to have the leak in the living room repaired. "It's life," I kept shrugging. We do what we can with what we have and move on.

Then winter arrived, and the heating source promised to us since we moved in never came. Men arrived at random hours of the day and evening without prior notice to install gas heaters. They ran a gas line from another unit in the building. We didn't feel safe. It was 50 degrees. We finally called in DCRA - the city's housing authority.

We've now had two DCRA inspections, and they want to schedule a third. The second inspector came from the illegal construction unit. He deemed all of the electrical wiring and gas connections illegal. There's even a sewer pipe behind our stove --- ew. He told me off the record that on the path the inspections are on, the building very well may be condemned.

It sounds like a happy ending, kinda, but working with DCRA brought a whole new set of problems with the landlord. He demanded to know why I have gone "guerrilla warfare" on him. Which, come on guys, was kind of a total compliment. But really, it's awful. I panic every time he calls, knowing it's going to be a fight. Matt and I have withheld rent since December, since we don't have adequate living conditions. We've spoken with a tenant advocate, who advises us to take him to court immediately and have the court hold the money.

court? we can't afford that. we can't afford a new apartment. we can't afford to fight him. 

We found out in the midst of all of this that our slumlord? That creep? He's a well-educated, influential lawyer at a big firm here in D.C. There are pictures of him with the president. He contributes to national publications. It just keeps getting better.

So. Last week we did find an apartment. It turns out finding a two-bedroom apartment in D.C. city limits that allows dogs in January, well, is a fairly impossible task. So we found a large one-bedroom apartment with a big enough common space to partition a second bedroom. It is what it is.

It's more than we can really afford. It'll be a stretch. And require sacrifices. But at least we'll be out of this place.

We sold our souls to the slumlord - made a deal that we owe him nothing, can keep the rent we've withheld to afford to move out, if we stop talking to DCRA. I cried. And debated. And had no clue what to do. Ultimately, we had no choice. We don't have the resources to fight him.

One of our applications for the new apartment was denied. In order to live together, we had to find a co-signer.

DCRA has called twice - bless them for following up. City government is good. I don't know what to do. I feel like this is a moment, an issue, a time that is self-defining. I'm between a rock and a hard place. I don't want anyone to ever live in that building like we have. I want to stop him.

I packed up Theo this weekend and went to Zan's. He has been my rock and forced me to realize that sometimes I need help, sometimes I have to accept help, and sometimes I even have to swallow my pride and ask for it.

There's a trail below Zan's apartment. It's the Melvin Hazen trail - part of Rock Creek Park here in the city. I took Theo for a short hike on it, tears stinging my face in the biting cold on Saturday afternoon. It's only about half a mile long. Twenty feet in, I let Theo off-leash. Traipsing through the snow-covered woods that felt much further away from the city than in reality, I let go of it all. I found some peace. And when Theo slid around in the snow and got soaking wet in the stream and ran with wild abandon up and down the hills, I couldn't stop laughing. The only thing better than being in the woods is being in snow-covered woods.

For better or worse, we move into our new apartment on Saturday.

Learn more about the Rock Creek Park trails here. Come hike them with me - they'll practically be in my backyard at the new place!