Holly Orr, founder of Paddle With Style, is teaching me how to paddle a racing canoe. Pam LeBlanc photo

I headed back to Staples this afternoon, for another paddling lesson from paddling guru Holly Orr, owner of several records in the grueling Texas Water Safari race.

We had to stop and watch the sun set. Pam LeBlanc photo

I’m doing the 260-mile race next June, as part of a three-woman team alongside veteran paddlers Sheila Reiter and Heather Harrison.

They know what they’re doing; so far, I do not. But that’s changing. I’m taking a deep dive into canoeing, and you’re likely to spot me on Lady Bird Lake, the San Marcos River or the Colorado River downstream of Austin most any day of the week.

The cows wandered down at the bank for a stare down. Pam LeBlanc photo

Today Holly focused on a couple of issues I’m having – one, I’m not driving with enough power. I need to twist more, to engage my core muscles to move instead of relying on my arms. I also need to start my stroke a little farther forward than I’ve been doing.

Holly Orr paddles up the San Marcos River near Staples. Pam LeBlanc photo

I borrowed a solo boat for today’s lesson, and it probably doesn’t look like the canoe you just conjured up in your mind (unless you’re a paddle junkie.) It’s narrow and tippy, with a wider spot in the middle to accommodate a human butt. We’re talking about a canoe that you wear, versus one that you clamber around in like a Boy Scout.

Bonuses of today’s late afternoon lesson? Feeling a little more natural every time I’m on the water. A gorgeous sunset. A scamper up a muddy bank to check out a dilapidated old shack. Blue herons. Black cows. A beaver, dipping and diving under the water’s surface.

See you on the river.

You’ll want to leave your friends at home when you head to the theater to watch “Free Solo,” the feature-length documentary about climbing legend Alex Honnold.

That way, no one will notice that you’ve broken out in a cold sweat as you watch Honnold, author of the book “Alone on the Wall,” slither his way, solo, up a 3,000-foot sheer cliff wall without any ropes to catch him if he slips.

I sweaty-palmed my way through the flick about Honnold’s June 2017 ascent of El Capitan at Yosemite National Park last night and felt like I was dangling from the edge of that cliff myself. It felt visceral.

Alex Honnold climbs El Capitan in Yosemite. Photo National Geographic

The movie follows the buildup as Honnold attempts to become the first to climb the wall without safety ropes or gear. He practically oozes his way up the cliff, flowing over rock like an octopus, clinging to holds the size of cough drops and cramming his arms into rough rocky cracks that sandpaper skin right off.

At one point, he trots right over a pair of climbers (one in a pink bunny suit!) who are sleeping (mere mortals sometimes take several days to do the climb) in hammocks tacked to the rock. Toss in personal narratives about his girlfriend, who is trying to find the balance between letting the man she loves do what he loves and the worry that weighs like a grand piano on her shoulders, and the filmmakers, who fear they might do something that would disrupt his climb, and you’ve got an hour and a half of anxiety in store.

It’s worth it.

I won’t give anything away by telling you Honnold survives the climb, and does it in less that 4 hours.

I interviewed Honnold last year, after he spoke at South by Southwest. Read that story from the Austin American-Statesman here.

A few months later, I wrote about Honnold’s mother, Dierdre Wolownick, who climbed El Capitan  (albeit with ropes) alongside her son for her 66th birthday.

The movie is playing at the Regal Arbor 8.

Frostweed forms when the moisture from inside the stems of the Verbesina virginica seeps out and freezes into fascinating shapes. Pam LeBlanc photo

Adventure doesn’t always come in the form of a towering mountain or raging river.

I try to inject a little jolt of curiosity into my life every day. Sometimes that means waking up at 4:45 a.m. and going for a run in the dark, without a headlamp. The trail looks different under moonlight, and I focus more on the sound of my feet crunching on gravel or the hooting of owls than the unspooling pathway in front of me.

Today, I woke up in the Hill Country where I’m doing some work and went for a walk. The thermometer read 25 degrees. A white tail buck stared at me as I crept outside in a cozy pair of sweatpants and an insulated jacket.

When it breaks, it looks like delicate pieces of ribbon candy or coconut flakes. Pam LeBlanc photo

As I walked down the hill and along the road that cuts through pastures of waving grass, I noticed what at first glance looked like plastic bags wrapped around the base of a cluster of plants. I waded off into the brush to inspect a little more closely, and it turns out I was looking at the season’s first bloom of frostweed.

Or maybe it looks more like egg beater dipped in thick vanilla frosting? Pam LeBlanc photo

The scientific name for this native Texas plant is Verbesina virginica, but I know it by the common name, which it gets from the delicate coils of ice that form around its stem when temperatures drop. That’s moisture from the plant, seeping out and freezing.

To me, it looks like old-fashioned ribbon candy, an egg beater dunked in thick vanilla frosting, or a tiny cone of pure white cotton candy. (Perhaps I’m hungry? I never can tell.) When it shatters, it breaks into big flakes of coconut.

Just taking a close look at something I don’t see every day added a little spark of happiness to my morning.

I can’t wait to see what I find next.

Runners stream across the finish line at the Thundercloud Subs Turkey Trot in Austin in 2017. Photo courtesy Thundercloud Subs

I love a turkey feast as much as the next person, but I like it even better when I’ve put a few miles on my legs before I sit down to eat.

Look for me at the Thundercloud Subs Turkey Trot in Austin this Thanksgiving Day, along with roughly 20,000 other people – many wearing turkey or pilgrim costumes – who want to work off a few calories before they pack more on. 

TCloud’s race might be the biggest in the area (it’s second only to the Dallas trot in the great state of Texas) but it isn’t the only game in town. 

Check out these all options:

A crowd gathers at the Long Center after the 2017 Thundercloud Subs Turkey Trot. Photo courtesy Thundercloud Subs

1. The Thundercloud Subs Turkey Trot starts and finishes near the Long Center, 701 W. Riverside Drive, in Austin. Proceeds benefit Caritas of Austin, which works to ensure that people have a safe home, food, jobs that provide a reliable living wage, and educational opportunities. Registration is $32 for an untimed 5-miler, $37 for a timed 5-miler, $27 for a 1-mile walk and $12 for the Kids K (prices increase on Thanksgiving Day.) The kids’ race starts at 8:45 a.m., followed by the timed run at 9:35 a.m. and the 1-mile walk/run at 9:50 a.m.

To register go to https://thundercloud.com/register/.

2. The Round Rock Turkey Trot 5-mile race and 2-mile walk/run follows paved roads and trails through Old Settlers Park, 3400 East Palm Valley Road. Enjoy a post-race party with sponsor booths, refreshments and prizes and giveaways. The 5-miler starts at 8 a.m.; the 2-miler begins at 8:15 a.m. Registration is $15 at https://runsignup.com/Race/TX/RoundRock/RoundRockTurkeyTrot. Proceeds benefit the Round Rock Serving Center, Operation Blue Santa and Backpack Coalition. 

3. The Georgetown Running Club and Sertoma host the 5-mile Georgetown Turkey Trot and 1-mile walk. Race starts at 8 a.m. on Main Street. Proceeds benefit Williamson County Meals on Wheels and Friends of Georgetown Parks and Recreation Department. Bring a nonperishable food item for The Caring Place. Entry is $35 online at http://www.georgetownrunningclub.org.

A few years ago, partway through a 15-day backpacking trip on the John Muir Trail in California, my feet hurt, my backpack felt like a rhinoceros on my back and all I wanted to do was lay down on the nearest rock and fall asleep.
Why in the world had I set out to hike roughly 200 miles through the Sierra Nevada mountains, eating dehydrated meals and wearing the same set of clothing day after day?

I wanted to bail out.
That’s when my husband pointed way down the trail, to a glimmering dime of water far below. That’s where we’d camped the previous night, he pointed out. I’d started there that morning, but look how far I’d come in three or four hours.
Something clicked in my mind. I gnawed on a hunk of beef jerky and sipped a little water I’d filtered from a stream as I turned that thought over in my head.

I would darn well keep walking, all the way to the end of the trail on the other side of Mount Whitney.

I did it, too, and that cheeseburger at the end tasted better than anything I’ve ever sunk my teeth into because I worked hard to get it.

That experience stuck in my brain, and I’ve carried it with me ever since.
It’s kept me outside, seeking adventure, finding the joy in the rugged path along the way. It taught me that when something feels impossible, I can keep moving, even if it feels like elephants are dancing on my toes.

Get outside, people. Explore your world. Find adventure in everything.

And if you need a little inspiration, follow my blog to get it.