skipping seasons

Fall is one elusive bitch.

In the Southeast we seem to get just a few short weeks of jumping spasmodically between 65 and 80 degrees before that red mercury line takes a sharp plummet to 30, never to be seen or heard from again. 

Don't get me wrong, winter is cool.

Hot drinks and Santa and snuggies and all that.

I can totally get down with it.

But that fleeting period of "just perfect" weather always leaves me enticed; wanting more...  

So 

if we do get a day when the sun is shining, and any measurable period of time is spent atop the 60s,

best believe it is getting taken advantage of. 

One of these days bore its beautiful face just last week, and my friend Amy and I subsequently hit the neighborhood to drink it in.

Amy spent much of her adolescence jump roping in regional, national and international competitions for the Cary-based SuperSkippers, and she is incredibly talented 

(not to mention fit... *puts down pizza*...
... *picks pizza back up, screw it*).

I took some pictures in an attempt to delineate what professional jump roping actually looks like.

It really is amazing to watch 

A sort of tenuous balance of gymnastics and plyometrics.

She does cartwheels, hand stands, cool things I've never heard of... All while barefoot.

The girl is deadly with a jump rope. 

aaaand 

this fall day's escapades left both of us ready (though reluctant) to face the ever-harshening winter.

We're all winning.  

Bundle up.

xx