All of my adult life, I’ve considered myself a mountain person. Sure, the beach was a nice place to take a vacation, soak up some sun, splash in the waves, and sip a tropical smoothie, but my heart has always belonged to the trees and the mountains. Growing up in Minnesota—where we have great lakes and woods, but zero peaks—left me with a deep appreciation for high elevation. When I first moved to Santa Fe, New Mexico, I remember staring at the Sangre de Cristo range and wondering if I’d ever take the epic views for granted. That was almost a decade ago, and now I can see two distinct mountain ranges from my office, and I still appreciate the view every single day.
So I was excited to head out to the Pacific Northwest for my husband’s family reunion last weekend, but I didn’t expect to fall in love with the tiny beach towns along the Oregon coast. Instead of hot sun, there was cool fog and mist. Rather than seas of oiled-up bodies tanning on the sand, there were stretches of open beach and the occasional person hunting for agates. The only group I saw sunning itself was a herd of seals, lying around lazily, occasionally dipping into the cold waves to grab a fish. There was fresh crab on every corner, and we stopped to watch a whale for 20 minutes on our hike back to our house one morning. It was my first time ever seeing one in the wild.
The drive from Portland to the ocean was also a delight. We wound through thickly wooded mountains and charming farm towns. At one point, we stopped at a farmer’s market to pick up the best blueberries and strawberries I’ve ever tasted. At another, we pulled over on the side of the road for a stealthy pee break, only to find that we were surrounded by wild blackberries and spent a good 20 minutes stuffing our faces and bags full of them.
Portland itself was a blast, filled with cool people and delicious food, but the coast of Oregon and the little mountain towns in between it and the city were what really sold me on the area. I guess I’m a beach person after all.
What I’m reading
What’s Behind the Rise of the Sunscreen Truther? For conspiracy-minded wellness contrarians, the cure for sunburn is worse than the disease.
The straight and narrow approach to all of this is to be aware of sunscreen’s limitations and act accordingly—Lester suggests that sunscreen be applied as part of a broader approach to “sun protection,” which should include “seeking shade, wearing sun protective clothing, avoiding the sun during the peak hours, 10:00 to 4:00, and wearing wide-brimmed hats.” Relying on sunscreen alone, she says, “isn’t as effective as layering different aspects of this sun-protective approach.”
But the sunscreen skeptics tend to be opposed to sun protection in general, emphasizing the known benefits of time in the sun, citing studies that show sun exposure improves nitric oxide production, which has been shown to lower blood pressure. Other studies suggest that avoiding the sun outright leads to higher risk factors of all-cause mortality. Still, others have shown spending time in the sun leads to better sleep and potentially more testosterone.
What If I Introduce My Friend to Backpacking and She’s Better Than Me? I’m an experienced solo backpacker, but she’s a marathoner and a natural athlete.
I know that gym-class scars and body shame run deep. Much like you, it took me a while to figure out that I liked moving my body, mainly because my California phys-ed classes were outdoors, in 100-degree temperatures, and students weren’t allowed to shower afterward. I’d spend the entire hour trying to move—and sweat—as little as possible. (It also didn’t help that I was also afraid of balls and dismally bad at running the mile. Rather than humiliate myself by coming in last, I preferred to refuse to try). When I figured out that it was heat, not exercise, that I hated, it felt like a revelation. So I can imagine, a little, how you might have felt when you discovered hiking and backpacking. Being deep in nature, away from expectations and judgment, moving through the world on your own power. I’m so happy for you that you found a place where you feel free.
Read the full story on Outside.
What Is Greta Gerwig Trying to Tell Us? From Barnard to Barbie, the director has always been interested in female ambition, including her own.
But when the lights came up at my screening, I was left clutching my now-limp beret, the last line of Ferrera’s monologue echoing in my head: “I’m just so tired of watching myself and every single other woman tie herself into knots so that people will like us. And if all of that is also true for a doll just representing women, then I don’t even know.” I don’t even know? That’s the best we got? What was the movie trying to say?
Read the full story on Vulture.
The ‘Lazy-Girl Job’ Is In Right Now. Here’s Why. Rather than lean in, young workers say they want jobs that can be done from home, come with a cool boss and end at 5 P.M. sharp.
The phenomenon, essentially the opposite of “leaning in,” has detractors, who say that aspiring to a lazy-girl job is the wrong attitude for building a meaningful career. Yet, many young women who have branded themselves “lazy girls” online insist they are anything but. After growing up hearing about the horrors of overwork, they say they’re happy in their jobs and celebrate striking work-life balance gold.
The term has generated close to 18 million views on TikTok, where videos often show women typing on their keyboards, with overlaid text about the perks they enjoy, like a manager who doesn’t micromanage and a no-pressure schedule that permits midday dog walks.
Like quiet quitting before it, the lazy-girl job is the latest iteration of 20- and 30-somethings of both genders redrawing the blurry line between life and work postpandemic. (The term follows in a long line of girl-themed trends, like “girlboss” and “girl dinner”—basically a plate of snacks—intended to be both self-deprecating and aspirational.)
Read the full story on The Wall Street Journal.
Last but not least
