Dear Doctor Guy, My friend recently stopped taking my calls because I’m dating her ex-boyfriend, but they broke up like over two years ago. I don’t know what to do.—Helpless Hottie ... More
For a moment, it looked like there was a way out. In the cockpit of the
New Mexico State Police helicopter, sitting idle on a mountain ridge in
the Pecos Wilderness northeast of Santa Fe, Sgt. Andrew Tingwall pointed
at a break in the clouds. To his fellow officer, 29-year-old Wesley
Cox, it looked like a tunnel, a thin valley through the dark and ominous
cloud bank overhead.
It’s not always easy. Some couples have interests that are mutually exclusive—she gets up early to train for triathlons; he likes hitting the bars until last call. He lives to hike to backcountry lakes and cast for mountain trout. She hates to be dirty.
In 1984, Mark Mortier and a few friends crossed over the top of Santa Fe’s Lake Peak in flimsy leather ski boots, with skinny, 7-foot-long telemark skis thrown over their shoulders. They clipped at the top of a sub-peak on the other side and dropped into a small piece of heaven.
Winter camping is not most people’s idea of a good time. It’s cold. There are no s’mores. You’re lucky if you can dig up enough sticks and tinder out of the snow to start a fire, and you’re luckier if you don’t make any forehead-slapping bumbles like letting the stove frost over or forgetting your lighter and matches a few miles back at the car.
Running doesn’t have to be a competitive sport. There’s no reason why, at 7 am on a warm Saturday morning, I couldn’t be running as hard as possible up the La Luz Trail in the Sandia Mountains by myself. It’s just that I wouldn’t. It’s too exhausting.