A Case of the ‘Umbles
Warm temperatures across Vermont this week have split outdoorsy types down the middle: those reveling in that last ride or run in shorts, and those snow fiends making nose prints against the window every time a cloud scuttles across the sky.
I’m pretty firmly in the “celebrate bare knees one last time” category, but I’ve left a few smears on the windows the past few days too — namely as a result of our friends back in Pennsylvania bragging (or lamenting) about the first snowfall — in October. I’m also eager to stop having native New Englanders say “Oh, so you haven’t made it through a real winter yet?” I think it’s time to get that rite of passage over with.
Any snow in the forecast?
That said, while I haven’t been a resident in the frozen north through an entire ski season yet, I have had a few experiences with cold weather — including a day shoeing horses in the high country of Montana’s Crazy Mountains during a sleet/snowstorm, a memorably cold night flying cargo with a plane full of horses and a cargo door that wouldn’t shut, and numerous long days out on the trail.
But nothing comes close to my first case of the ’umbles.
The ’umbles — referring to the fumbles, grumbles, mumbles and stumbles (and the first signs of mild hypothermia) — are often undetectable to the person suffering them, so I thought I was just having a really hard time getting my crampons off while making camp after a day en route to a Mount Washington summit. DJ was a little quicker to the punch and quickly got me swaddled inside my sleeping bag in dry clothes, drinking a sugary hot chocolate and hugging a hot-water bottle — the procedure prescribed by Backpacker, the Mayo Clinic and his military first-aid training. A few minutes later, I was fine.
Warm and dry.
It prompted some questions, though. Upon arriving at camp, I’d changed my slightly damp base layer and Powerstrech hoodie for a dry pair of long underwear, a wicking midweight top, a fleece and a shell. So what gives?
It wasn’t until later that I realized that my sports bra was still damp — even though I’d been in camp for about three hours and inside a tent/sleeping bag for much of that time. The culprit? A so-called “wicking” sports bra — lined in cotton. My lesson? It doesn’t matter how good the Coolmax factor is if you have any cotton at all near your skin.
Needless to say, that experience prompted a sports bra shopping trip — a dangerous proposition in the past, but this time I managed to find a few good options without getting waylaid in the process. Here are a few of my favorite options for chafe-free, wicking sports bras that will stay put (and comfortable) under a pack:
1. Moving Comfort Alexis sports bra (a favorite for just about any sport)
2. EMS seamless racerback bra (wider straps are more comfortable if you have sensitive skin)
3. EMS Dona Bra (so comfortable you may never take it off)
All good options when the weather outside looks like this:
