I’ve been feeling like quite a chicken lately…reluctant to make any brave decisions or commitments to forward my future. This is a dangerous situation to be in, especially in these current times, with the Chick-fil-A controversies and crazes and what-have-you.

I felt like I could be devoured any minute, as I was running around directionless in Colorado all summer long, head cut off and everything.  Desperate times call for desperate measures, and I decided to pack up and make the great journey.

 Sigh… I avoided, or at least delayed my seemingly unfortunate destiny- death by chicken sandwich, digestion, and defecation from some fat ass in form of fast food diarrhea. Yeah. Or at least something like that…

So here I am, waving my feathered wing toward all of you, roasting, turning, and burning, in the drought stricken lower 48, while I’ve set up a temporary little roost in the beautiful state of Alaska. A free bird. Greetings from Anchorage!

“Why Alaska?” was the inescapable question this time around.

 Why not. Why anything. Fuck you... sums up my internal response to that question.  Although in rule of common human decency, I usually ignored the question and said nothing, sadly having nothing “nice” to say.

With some time to think about the question further, in terms of pursuing a running career right now, it is a rough road out there.  Instead of going down the road just yet, I crossed it, as any normal chicken would do, to look at things from another side.

This side of the road, (Anchorage that is), is an amazing little haven, and I would recommend this city to any other runner out there who may find themselves lost on their own road.  I am celebrating over here, doing the chicken dance, while also running on an endless network of trails, enjoying mild temperatures and long days, and finding that Alaskans too love their beer, leaving even this proud Wisconsin girl/Fort Collins resident too busy savoring the local flavors, to do any prideful shit talking.

Luckily it seems, alongside their beer, Alaskans (and bears) prefer salmon over chicken. I am no longer dead meat.  And I feel safe, and warm, and fuzzy, and at home.  I love it here.  I also have some amazing hosts to thank.  (Thank you Crystal and family.)

I am not sure yet when this chicken will decide to cross the road once again.  Perhaps instead, I will find a road up here and follow it.  I will need to invest in pants, and maybe skis, if that is the case.

Realistically, winter weather will surely spark a migration to a warmer latitude on the globe.

The sky is falling! The sky is falling!

Oh… Just snow? Either way, that is my cue to get the cluck out of here.