At long last, the dreaded shoulder season is upon us. It is too wet to climb outside, too muddy to risk tearing up the singletrack, and, worst of all, not yet snowy enough to ski. In a few short weeks, Anchorage will be cross-country skiing to work and spending its weekends earning turns, but in the meantime, I am consigned to my two least favorite forms of exercise.
I read Mrs Dalloway in college and thought it was the worst. I knew I should care that Clarissa’s character was a commentary on the sexual and economic repression of women, but unless I was being disagreeable—one bespectacled boy who always sat in the front had lots to say about The Patriarchy and little understanding of his role in it, evidenced by his frequent description of characters as “bitchy”—I didn’t think much of Clarissa. I wasn’t interested in her stupid party, and it went completely over my head that Clarissa totally had the hots for Sally Seton, which might have at least piqued my interest.