BOSTON MARATHON 2013

I wrote this a few years ago. I post it now in reverence to all those who are personally and physically impacted by the events of this day and to all runners everywhere. Don't stop moving... • As a kid, I traveled the farm roads around Rexburg in my dad's old Chevy with the windows open. I held quart jars filled with water as we measured out the miles and felt the cool summer air that smelled like raw potatoes. When the pick-up rolled to a stop, I would gently place a jar behind a fence post or a telephone pole and there it would wait to rehydrate a runner in the early morning hours when the sun showed up to feed the fields. He ran a twenty miler almost every Sunday and when he finished, we drove that route again to retrieve the containers and any extra clothing he had discarded. We knew those country roads well. We knew where the wild asparagus grew and which neighbors liked bacon for breakfast. We knew the farmers would wave at us while they were out changing water and we knew that his sweatshirt would be exactly where it was left when the temperature rose. It was consistent and unchanging and we looked forward to it each week. He was a runner. My dad taught me about racing, and about negative splits, and about famous runners. Things even other runners sometimes don't know. Before I was born, there was a runner, a woman, named Katherine Switzer who created quite a stir when she entered and completed the Boston Marathon. The race director was so appalled that this woman was "defiling" his race that he actually tried to rip her numbers off of her. At that time, people believed that if a female tried to run further than two miles her "uterus would fall out and she would bleed to death". Shockingly, this was in the late 60's and while she never intended to start an equality forum with women's running, Katherine Switzer's race that day was the beginning of huge strides forward in women's sports. It took a while though; it wasn't until the 1984 Olympics that a women's marathon was included. Joan Benoit Samuelson won that 1st hot and smoggy Olympic Marathon with a time of 2:24 after a win at Boston in 2 hours and 22 minutes. I had the pleasure of seeing both of these women last year when my husband took me to Massachusetts to participate in the 112th running of the Boston Marathon. That weekend they also held the Women's Olympic trials marathon and Joanie, as she is affectionately called by runners everywhere, participated at the age of almost 52. Katherine was promoting a book and I felt privileged to stand next to her while memories of an old Chevy and cool quart jars rushed into my head. The Boston Marathon is rich in running and American history. You have probably heard of Paul Revere and his famous midnight ride to warn us that the British were coming. "One if by land, two if by sea", right? Originally held on Patriot's Day, the race is now held on the third Monday of April, known as Marathon Monday in Massachusetts in honor of Patriot's day and Paul Revere. It's actually a state holiday and people come out in full force to watch 25,000 qualified runners follow Paul Revere's route into Boston. In order to be eligible for entrance into Boston a runner must submit a qualifying time according to your age and gender at a prior race on a course that is both certified and sanctioned by the Boston Athletic Association. It's hard work to get in and the celebration is fantastic. Do you know what 250,000 loyal and screaming Red Sox fans sound like? I ran the race that Monday in 2008 and though I was inspired by the people and the legend, what occupied my mind the most were the miles I ran to prepare for the race on the roads in Rexburg, Idaho along with the time I spent as a kid setting out water with my dad. Because of those memories, I am excited about the things I notice when I chose to lace up those running shoes. Do you know that on a late summer evenings the temperature next to the fields changes depending on what is planted in them? I do. And I know that on a clear day the Grand is going to peak over the dry farms and be visible to me. And shhh, don't tell anyone. I even know that at 5:00 a.m. while cruising in a pair of Asics, Main Street is going to smell like sausage and doughnuts. It's constistent and unchanging and I am a runner.

at one ment

in june i ran a 35 mile trail race with 8400 feet of climb. i started the race knowing i would struggle and experience indescribable pain, both emotionally and physically, but that i could walk as much as i needed to. before the race i filled my pack with the items that i felt would be necessary to help me get from start to finish. i poured ice and fluids into my bladder bag for hydration and chose lightweight, extra clothing for protection against the elevation and the elements. i filled my pack pockets with easily useable calories for fueling and i packed my red bandana for emotional support. my dad used to run with a red bandana, and since he passed on and i miss him, running with one helps me to draw on his strength when i feel overwhelmed. the race started with cool moisture in the air and a double rainbow in the southern sky. i wondered if that double rainbow was an omen of good things to come but with the dark clouds that also inhabited the sky, it was hard to say. my nerves were raw and confused as the palpable energy of all participants seemed to arm wrestle with my fear of failing this monumental undertaking. for a few miles the trail was wide and smooth with little rolling hills as i wound along a small creek bed but then, following the marked race course, i began to gain elevation as i turned southward and climbed a spring run-off drainage area that seems to have been re-inforced with boulders to protect the landscape from erosion. this section, steep and rocky, required scrambling to make progress on the trail. my quads started to burn and having only completed less than 1/4 of the distance i got a little nervous. shortly, however, as i moved from this section to the next, i left the cover of the trees and from the smooth, single track switch backs i could see how far i had really travelled and i knew i could continue. life, sometimes, gets hard that way too, doesn't it? at the crest of this hilltop, the course followed a forest service road wide enough for a vehicle. the view was spectacular and covered three sides of the landscape and as i enjoyed it, i tripped on a rock and fell to the ground knocking the wind out of my lungs. i picked my self up, sucked in some fresh mountain air, and started to move forward again. the race route turned onto a double track, four wheeler wide, and entered the shade of forest once again. the dark clouds had dissapated with the rising sun and i was relieved to feel the coolness radiating from the trees. after climbing out of a canyon and cresting another hilltop, i ran, enjoyng the easy downhill, until i reached the mink creek aid station having covered just over 16 miles into my race. after fueling and re-filling my pack, i took a deep breath and forced myself to leave the comfort of the aid station and begin the rest of my journey. i alternately jogged and hiked up the trail in the heat, eating peanut m & M's, as i fought fatigue. a friend joined me for a few miles and provided some positive energy and support. an aid station worker handed me a cup full of chicken broth and sliced potatoes that tasted like liquid gold while replenishing my body with much needed salt and fluids. i took some motrin and tylenol and hoped they would ease the growing aches i felt over the entirety of my body. i left the comfort of that camp chair and continued to move forward on my course. the trail continue upward into the elements, the landscape becoming more barren and rocky as i climbed, the heat bouncing off the rocks. i encountered small piles of snow, left over from winter, and filled my red bandana to soak my face and neck and cool my skin. i prayed and begged for help from those lost to me and inhabiting other spacial arenas. i wrapped that red bandana around my hand, wet from snow, and grasped it tightly to feel the pressure of the cotton around my palm and pretend my dad was pulling me up the mountain as i struggled both physically and mentally. my body hurt so much, but my heart hurt worse. i thought about where i had come from, my dad and my family; and i thought about where i was going and how it all would work out. i felt overwhelmed with pain, ached for all the mistakes i had made and the people i had hurt, and i pushed forward knowing i could not quit. i squeezed my fingers tighter around my red bandana and prayed for relief as i continued up the mountain. i felt a small surge of energy and a boost to my spirit. when i reached the top of scout mountain i just stopped to stare at the expanse of the universe and revive myself with thoughts of God and creation and gratitude for a healthy body and for so many happy things and the people in my life i knew i could not manage without and i made a decision to push hard to the finish. and i kept moving forward. i struggled on the descent though. it was too steep to run and every foot fall pounded my wrecked body and i thought about how even when we make right choices life can be difficult. after a few minutes though,i reached a soft single track, and coasted down the trail like i had wings and i felt free. the trail curved around the landscape and wound through the forest, descending from the harsh element-laden mountain top and back into the tree line towards more easily accessed ground. i ran over a rocky section of trail and back onto soft ground and tripped over a rock. i put my left hand down first but rolled right over it and landed on my face on a tree root growing across the ground. i stood up, wiped off my mud and blood covered face, pushed the skin hanging from the bridge of my nose back into place, and started running again. feeling completely overwhelmed, achy, and alone and knowing that i still had 7 miles to cover and i started to cry. softly at first, but then the dam broke and i sobbed for two miles, salty tears and sweat mixed with the blood dripping down my face. it tasted bitter as i tried to continue to hydrate myself against the rising heat and i felt devastated and lonely and i prayed, again, for help. when i reached the next aid station, an older man took me by the arm, spoke to me sweetly, sat me down, and gently proceeded to wash my face with fresh cold water. his wife handed me a cup of sprite, liquid silver, which rejuvenated me and i continued down the trail toward the finish.

i ran down the road for while before the course turned westward through an area that, in the winter, is a popular nordic skiing retreat. the greenery in the meadows held the heat near the ground like a suffocating fog. i walked when i had to, ran when i could, and i sucked warm fluid from my bladder bag every few minutes to push away the tingles and nausea of dehydration and heat exhaustion. finally, i reached the road with only 1/2 of a downhill mile to the finish line, homemade chili, and a soak in the cold creek. as i sat in the cold water soaking my aching body i prayed for relief from my pains, expressed my gratitude for my family and my healthy body and watched as the mud, the blood, the sweat, and the tears wash away in the current as i unwrapped that red bandana from my hand. and i remembered the view from the top of scout mountain, the expanse of the universe, and the gratitude that i felt and i realized that though i travelled that distance over the rocks and changing elevations and the varying landscapes mostly in solitude, i was never really alone.

ECLIPSE

last sunday, i layed on the driveway trying not to move. i wore two pairs of sunglasses and waited for the solar eclipse. a solar eclipse occurs when the moon travels between the earth and the sun. as the moon covers the sun, the sky grows progressively darker. the sun, however, is bigger than the moon and even when the moon is centrally located in front of the sun, there is still light and the promise that the moon will continue to travel until it no longer covers the sun. as i watched this happen in the sky, i thought about the marathon i had completed the morning prior and the lessons i needed to learn from it. my achy body melted into the concrete as i tried to remember how i found myself at that starting line. months ago, some friends and i registered and began planning for the ogden marathon. we knew that training for a spring marathon would require lots of miles while being exposed to the winter elements. we would need to outfit ourselves with the right layers in order to protect ourselves from the cold. generally, winter training pace is slowed due to icy conditions, clothing restriction, and frigid temperatures impacting blood flow and movement. it is the hope that after months of running in those temps and those layers that shedding them come race day will bring relief from the restrictions of all winter entities and allow for a faster pace. last friday, four of us covered some drive-time miles together on i-15 while sharing the current state of our individual element-impacted lives and we expressed our gratitude for the comraderie and support we have shared while bi-pedal on the roads. we also nervously bantered in regards to our worries and expectations about what we could accomplish the next day on the course. it is difficult to predict performance in any race but seemingly impossible when training has been less than ideal as well as plagued with injury, illness, and dramatic life changes. the only variable we knew for certain was that we agreed we would support individual choice in pace and finish times and there would never be pressure to run someone elses race and no matter what, we would consider the adventure for what it was...an adventure. and, of course, we were grateful to be sharing whatever misery ensued with each other. the next morning we huddled together in a field of fire barrels and nervous runners and discussed which layers we would keep and which we would discard and where we would wait for one another at the finish. after we removed our extra clothing and tossed our numbered bags into the transport vehicle we walked together to the start corral and just sort of ended up behind the 3:35 pace group and waited for the gun to sound. my friends and i followed the race course closely together for about nine miles before any significant pace changes started to occur and the effects of the last few months took over. as women and moms and wives we tend to feel the aches and pains of those we care about until they become part of us and running, on our own or together, is a way for us to use our physicality to help manage those feelings and responsibilities. while the marathon training serves a congruent purpose for all of us, each of us responds differently to those daily stresses. some of us run until we feel lifes anxieties drip away with the sweat. some of us run to keep the chaos from stopping our movement altogether. all of us run for the support and the friendship and the emotional strength that grows as our capacity for endurance builds. the race was tough for all of us and we tested ourselves beyond what, according to our training, we should have been able to achieve. missed training runs, illness, and injury have eclipsed our lives over the last while and we felt restricted by those extra layers. for some, the weight of responsibilites and resulting emotional struggles impacted physicality and restricted ability to move fast. for another, physical pain from chronic injury left a mental limp that seemed impossible to bear. for me, my "race day brain" forced me to outrun my inadequecies and push for physical rather than emotional pain. in the end, we all reached the finish line of this tough challenge and though it may have felt like a disappointment i would remind us that, one way or another, we got there. and in some ways the elements that impacted our movements actually set us free and made us more resilient. we faced an obvious opponent and kept moving until we conquered it. lets not forget that while the layers we wear in winter are restrictive, they still protect us from the cold. and that day, the lessons we learned about ourselves and each other will benefit us when facing future endeavors. i challenge us all to remember what it is about each of us that drove us to register and commit to training in the first place and that that is what is most important. regardless of anything that happened after that moment we need to remember we had what we needed to take on this course and overcome lifes challenges then and we still have it. and like the sun, we are bigger than the moon and while we may feel overshadowed and struggle in the darkness at times there is still light and the promise that the moon will continue to travel until it no longer covers the sun.

iron will

after i ran my first marathon i was afraid of what my body would feel like with each and every movement.  it hurt bad enough just to take one step after another but to introduce stairs, worse down than up, or heaven forbid, to brave a toilet seat was beyond any self-induced physical pain heretofore experienced.  the word excruciating, honestly, does not seem like an overstatement.  the only thing worse than continuing to move after having run a marathon is starting to move again once you have stopped. as a fitful sleeper in normal conditions i struggled with each involuntary movement and was awakened by my sister holding a dose of motrin and bottle of water.  "take these honey", she said, "you are whimpering in your sleep"  later that day i traveled home to my family who was in the process of moving into a new house.  this required me to lug boxes and furniture out of a storage unit, into a u-haul, and then into my house, up and down stairs and into individual rooms.  i remember feeling such different extremes in the emotional fulfillment of having completed my first marathon and excitement about a new house while concurrently suffering almost overwhelming physical pain.  the conversion of these polar opposites and the intensity at which they spotlight the other remains in my arsenal of things learned while pushing my body to new limits and, i admit, is something i occasionally seek after through athletic endeavors.

not everyone can relate athletically but most everyone has experienced these extremes through challenges forced upon us by life.  as a family, as well as a community we are suffering the tragic loss of a 12 year old boy who died suddenly.  this boy positively impacted so many in his life and continues to in death as his young healthy organs have been harvested and implanted into bodies that have been desperately seeking miracles.  as a mother to my own 12 year son and as the wife of a man who has coached and mentored the football team this boy belongs to, i wonder how this team will process and continue forward.  jimmy has been known to tell his boys that football is just a game that teaches them about life and prepares them for the future. he stresses camaraderie and teammate support, hard work and fundamentals, and is the first one to get down on one knee to personally thank each player for bringing their individual talents to their team and onto the field for each game of the season.  jimmy was called to go down to the middle school and talk to his team as many of these players asked for him rather than talking to the available counsellors and these boys sat in a circle of unity with him as they laughed and cried and ached for their lost teammate. jimmy explained that this cycle of extreme emotions is normal and could persist for a while. and he aches greatly for his team.

i ache for them as well and i wish i could tell them that, with time, their healing will come.  and that through their athletic endeavors they are learning about life and preparing for their futures and that sometimes life involves a great deal of pain but if they pay attention they can also experience to most amazing bits of greatness, too. but, it never comes until after we have scattered and shared our emotional clutter on the trail/road/field as we open up and push ourselves further than we imagined until we reach  a space of physical and spiritual freedom. it is difficult, though, to remember and impossible to explain just how much further a body blessed with a strong mental fortitude can continue forward even after extreme fatigue sets in. it can just keep finding ways to progress forward. and sometimes, the simplest things can keep one moving. a small handful of hot, salty, fries handed to me by a friend through their car window carried me over the last few miles of my first official 50 mile road race. and when i crossed that finish line i knew that though my battered body had covered the ground from lower mesa falls to driggs, my spirit had traveled much further and i felt free.

with any situation, we have to continue forward one step at a time to make it through. we can't stop moving before we get to the finish line and a football game is not complete until the fourth quarter ends and we have to do what we need to do to carry on and get there.  we have to feed our bodies with the fuel required to make it function properly and we have to feed our souls with community. we have to pay attention to the positives that get spotlighted even though we might ache like mad. and we have to remember that most often this process takes time and perseverance and endurance and a little motrin and maybe a few salty french fries from a friend at mile 45. and we have to know that it is easier to keep moving than it is to stop and start up again.  but most of all, we have to believe that we can do it and we have to extend a hand in camaraderie and we have to build up an iron will to succeed.

upside down

i got a call from ty's teacher last week asking for us to come in and have a meeting with her and the school's principle regarding ty's escalating impulse control and disrespect issues.  we met to discuss how we, as a team, can help him be successful with the social energies that school and life requires.  he is exceptionally bright and requires a little bit more to keep him occupied.  his current issues stem from the fact that he, as our youngest child, either gets overly mothered or picked-on and it is confusing for him.  he is, and always has been, very quickly reactive.  he's fun to tease...his response is big and the playground kids love watching him get all worked up.  ty is also fiercely independent and keenly aware of his personal preferences and he has recently begun refusing to participate in things he doesn't like and this has become difficult for his teacher to manage.

as with most of life's complications i take the situation and i turn it around in my head until i can separate my personal responsibility and formulate a plan of action for my future influence.  i have struggled this week trying to figure out the history and the progression of events that have lead to where we are now.  not because the history is necessarily challenging but because i am forced to accept my responsibility and my short-comings as a parent.  i am keenly aware of my inadequacies of late.

i took ty climbing yesterday for some one-on-one time.  ty is very strong and knows how to isolate and use his muscles.  he has run almost 100 miles this school year during his tuesday and thursday recesses at school. and the kid has six-pack abs!   while i watched ty climb i worked on a route that progresses out of a shallow cave.  hanging from the ceiling forces better technique in order to conserve enough strength and energy to complete the route.  i have to focus hard on using my core muscles and good hip movement to alleviate some of the pressure on my hands and my forearms.  and i really have to trust and allow my confidence to perpetuate movement to the next hold.  otherwise, it's too overwhelming to hang upside down.

today, izzy and i had a handstand contest and it reminded me of my dad and how he used to walk on his hands across the yard.  as a child of an alcoholic and the oldest boy of 9 kids i doubt he was ever told how physically strong he could become and how that physical strength would benefit him mentally and socially for so many years. i wish i knew what the catalyst was for his athletic endeavors.

as i process and turn these events over in my head it occurs to me that while i have spent time this week, both physically and figuratively, upside down, it really will be ok and the pull of the gravity is beginning to seem less overwhelming.  i can work with ty, little by little, and help him use positive physical pursuits to engage his mind and avoid boredom.  i can encourage him to allow his core strength and his new techniques to alleviate some of the pressure he feels when pushed by others.  i can teach him to be confident and trust that doing something he doesn't want to do does not make him less tough or less independent.  and i can tell him that using his hands (like his grandpa) to travel over the earth is a better pursuit than making a fist.

and i can put my arms around him and tell him that, no matter what, i love him.

jan 15th, 2012

jimmy took this picture of me and the kids and the mountains and posted it on facebook.  upon seeing it, a friend of his asked if we ever get "used" to seeing the mountains.  we don't. i don't.  i am mesmerized by them and i feel a magnetic pull from them at times. there is a trail that i have run so often i could cover it in the dark.  the trail is worn and smooth and familiar. however, there is one section that is rocky and slick and requires one to slow down and consider each footfall carefully to avoid injury.  after the rocks have been negotiated, the trail narrows and the trees close in almost like a tunnel and the sounds of the wind and the birds and my breathing boomerang off those trees and come back to me.  it's almost as if i can feel their notes tickle the fine hairs on my neck and cool the sweat on my skin.  my heartbeat and my cadence are fast in this section and, though my footsteps are light, i feel firmly connected to the earth.  this part of the trail winds and rolls and descends until it crosses a creek and finds a gravel access road. 
i once heard that the seventh year of anything is the most difficult.  i'm not sure why but it seems, to me, to have been the case in my life.  during the seventh year of my marriage, i miscarried and delivered a baby at 17 weeks gestation and lost my dad to suicide.  i am now currently in the seventh year post dad and baby loss and some days i find myself on rocky terrain taking uncertain steps forward.  not only am i dealing with cluttered chaos on the trail, in relation to those losses, but the people that i love are experiencing the jagged and slick parts of me as i process and i notice them guarding their steps a bit.  i need to resolve, and let go, some of those issues so as not to alienate them further.

while travelling the gravel road, the elevation rolls and climbs until it reaches the junction of several different roads.  a junction is defined as an act of joining two or more things together or a place where two things meet and one terminates.  this particular junction provides access to several different roads and trails to choose from but usually, at this point in my travels i know that i just have a couple of quick downhill miles to get back to where i started.
i think we all have moments where, for one reason or another, we are unable to put our best foot forward.  it's part of life, right?  i need to remember that on my trail and in my life the difficult rocky sections,when smartly negotiated, lead directly into those cushy spaces that allow me to just move and feel free and be supported by the earth.  i need to remember that upon encountering junctions it is ok to follow one path and it is , sometimes, necessary to let another trail terminate and i need to remember that if i keep moving forward and do my best to stay connected to the earth i will be rewarded with a couple of quick downhill miles and the reverberation of my own breathing off the trees.

girls night out

my friend darla needed a quick adventure so the two us of took our matching daughters and headed to lava.  the grown up girls chatted in the front of the beefy diesel hoggin pick-up truck while the littles channelled taylor and miley in the backseat.  we ate salad and pizza like princesses at the royal and checked into a hotel called home.  we soaked in varying degrees of heat at the hot springs and hid in the steam rising from the water and i layed on the cold concrete next to the hottest pool and watched the stars.  the thing i liked about alternating between the heat of the pool and the frigid concrete is that i had to focus on my breathing to manage the extremes.   we ate ice cream, listened to the trains, channelled some adele and went to bed early.

in the a.m. with bits of my very seldom used anti-anxiety/sleep aidnecessary to undo too many sleepless nights of late still on board i pulled on olivia's fake ugg boots and went for a hike in my pajamas.

 i walked passed the idaho centennial trail sign and crossed this engineering marvel of a bridge...

 i turned and viewed the hot springs and my sleeping girls at "home" as i ascend this trail and laughed when i heard 3 loud whistle blowing trains travel through town  before 8 a.m.  it reminded me of my cousin vinny!

 i surprised some viciously aggressive llamas near this tree.  not sure how i escaped them...i was too scared to take a picture

 there were some aspects where the ground was bare but mostly my trail was covered in icy snow.  this is a flat section. many were not so easy to cover due to the steepness.

 don't blame me for the life-less grey and brown as i have been praying for snow for all i'm worth for months.  i think i am being humbled...

 i did watch this happen and the extremes reminded me to breathe, again.  happy saturday!

hiking down was a little bit dicey, as i figured it would be given my footwear, and i had a couple of tushy-meet-the-ground moments but only one slide-off-the-trail-and-roll-into-the-buck-brush-experiences.  thank goodness for eating like a princess and providing my self plenty-o-padding.  may need a spine adjustment or a massage later...

note to self: you are normally well prepared for all eventualities, which is why your pack is always a little too heavy. take your boots next time! the good news is, you now know that barefoot running is not for you.  phewww!  thank goodness you never have to wear them, those vibrams are so hideous...

after a great breakfast, omelets, pancakes and belgium waffles, at johnny's restaurant we climbed into the diesel and left the home hotel and headed north.  thanks darla, izzy and marin for the perfect girls night out!

December 15, 2011

last sunday would have been josh's 33rd birthday.  normally, i am not one to stress over or commemorate those dates but recent events wore down my protective shell and the december 11th sunrise siphoned away my sunday morning serenity.  thoughts and empathy for the shocked families of a broken little girl with a heart too weak to overcome her lifelong illness, a devastated mother searching for her son lost to conspiracy theories, mental illness and meth, and a kind family man accidentally trapped and damaged and ultimately lost to those injuries consumed me and rubbed raw the callouses i have formed to protect myself from my own losses.  knowing the challenges, the questions, and the sadness these families will encounter opened old wounds and made them feel new again and i had to decide how i would tend to my injuries and which direction i would take to minimize my misery and to provide aide for these families.

i went for a walk in the woods today.  the new fluffy snow, while beautiful and sparkly in the sunshine, was not deep enough to fill the ruts and the uneven ground worked my ankles.   i hiked up a trail i have covered many times and, for most of my climb, i followed two sets of tracks.  i used the indents of these ski tracks to determine my direction while my mind processed and purged.  at first, as i walked between this pair of tracks, i felt isolated and inadequate.  i couldn't manage the ground they covered together and my wide, clunky footfalls didn't match their sleek, skinned skis.  and, for some reason, this made me feel small and lonely.  it occurred to me that this feeling of weakness was not due to being alone on the trail but more a result of the situation that occurred the night prior and it was just being played out in front of me through physical means in order to force me to evaluate my emotional needs.  while attending a basketball game i had seen my neighbor and had given her a hug but when our eyes connected, i could not separate her fresh widowhood status and her shock from my own abandonment and loss and for a moment i could not remember how to breathe, let alone come up with words to provide her some comfort.  i walked away fighting the panic and the sobs rising in my throat and it took a few minutes to regain the confidence required to take another breath and another step.  after a few minutes, i regained some composure and was able to enjoy the game instead of simply focusing on how to keep oxygen moving through my bloodstream. 

after a few minutes though, both at the game and on the hill side, i began to feel some security from the support of those who inhabited these spaces before me, those who share the space i currently occupy,  and those who had travelled this trail prior to my arrival and, even with the diversity of life experiences and modes of transport, a feeling of safety emerged and i knew i could move forward.  i had too.  what other choice is there?   it was in that place in my emotional train of thought that the tracks i had been following veered to the left of my tentatively chosen route and i stood still for a moment debating whether i should continue to follow or go off on my own.  following the tracks had become too comfortable and the risk of going somewhere i didn't want to go was increasing and because i wanted to climb higher, i chose to follow the un-tracked trail to the right and continue up the hillside on my own.  as i hiked, i began to hear birds.  lots of them.  i stopped short for a moment to consider the disconnect as this chorus is more indicative of springtime and i wondered if these birds were as confused as i was. i determined, however, that they sounded happy and this made me smile and my wounds began to slowly heal themselves and that weight, so centered on the middle of my soul, began to lift and my eyes cleared allowing me to see more clearly.  as i moved forward, i saw several deer running through the woods and later, a bull moose that stood and stared at me for a few minutes.  making eye contact with this large animal, in his habitat, created a feeling of stillness for me and i felt like i belonged there, too.  i had moved, bravely forward, on my own after the ski tracks moved to the left and i was quickly rewarded with the knowledge that i was not alone and i was being protected.

i have often felt like one of the "gifts" we are sometimes given in the midst of trial and loss is the ability to recognize the gifting while it is happening.  not surprisingly, we tend to be so overwhelmed by the experiences that catch and injure us that it feels like all we can do is manage to take one breath and one step after another in order to survive and anything else is just too much.  but, for me, even when i feel my most alone and my most insecure, looking for what i am being given, in that moment, helps.  if i could go back to the corridor outside that ballgame with that brave sad wife and if i could share with all those that are suffering significant losses i would tell them to look for the little gifts and allow them to ease the weight, if only for a few minutes, and to let these gifts remind us that we are not alone.

what would you put in your God Box?

for my job as well as in my life i talk to a lot of people, or rather, a lot of people talk to me.  there is something about the physical closeness of patient care and removing skin cancers that seems to create a safe environment for sharing.  i hear stories of illness and struggles, insecurities and losses. and, i am reminded that i am not the only one.

usually, i wonder what their method of healing is and often, when i ask, the answer is some version of prayer and perseverance.   and with that, there is hope for eventual change and peace.  sometimes, however, i can see the impact of the trials sitting on their shoulders and their features drag from burden.  i am sensitive to it, i think, because the look of it is something i have seen before.  i saw it on my dad during the last year of his life as the weight of his issues seemed to compress him until he even appeared smaller than his actual frame would allow and i see it on other people i care about as i watch them navigate life.

i went run/walking with a friend one morning and, in the dark, we talked about life and watched the stars.  we chattered about the basic fluffy stuff that keeps us busy and we stayed away from any real topic that would require energy to process.  she and i both, though our issues vary greatly, normally relieve our occasional bouts of emotional stress through physical means but presently, the health and strength of our bodies has limited our ability to do that.  so, for that day, we tabled the insecurities, the losses, and the economy and we moved toward Cassiopeia and around to Ursa Major and we sent those unspoken thoughts to the sky and by the time we were back to Orion, we were home again.

the stars used to be the only way for people and sailors to navigate and find their way home.  as technology has advanced and modern conveniences have been developed, though, this practice is rarely used and i find this a bit unfortunate.  in some ways, the invention of the light bulb, while immensely valuable, impacts one's ability to even see the stars.  people, in populated areas with big city lights, may not notice how bright the stars can really be.  as a country girl, i often slept outside and gazed at the stars and knew that someone great must have made them twinkle and fall for me. and now, as an adult, i find myself seeking the stars and their creator when i am stressed and in need of comfort.  there is something about viewing the expanse of the universe that creates a diametric feeling of closeness to me.  it's like i can see the space the constellations fill circled around me and i feel safe.

when i think about the people in my life and those i encounter at work, i hope they have or can find something that brings them peace.  there are portions of our troubles that, no matter what we do, we have no ability to control or to make them right through our own endeavors, especially, when our history and past circumstances impact our present.  somehow, though it is difficult, we all have to figure out how to let go of certain items of insecurity in order to move on and let new things in.  for me, i have to turn off the chaos by turning off the lights so that i can see the stars and their creator more clearly.  for others, however, it may not be that simple.

someone i know recently bought themselves a special box to put their troubles in.  a receptacle to place the panic in that only God can possibly resolve.  it's important, i believe, when times are tough and faith is challenged to have something tangible that allows one to physically give away those unsettling fears to an unseen being and ask Him to remove them from you.  for many, without that box to put their hands on and without the ceremony of gifting those pains to a higher power, praying just seems too far-reaching or simply may not feel like enough action to create the desired results.

that's why i feel like this box idea is genius!

so, here is my question...  What would you put in your God Box?

taste, touch, sight, smell, hear...plus one

last year, when ty was in kindergarten he brought home a series of pictures used to teach kids about the 5 senses. each picture had an enlarged body part that coincided with the sense being taught on that particular day until he knew about sight, smell, taste, touch, and hearing. when ty learned about taste, he brought home a picture with a giant tongue on it. ty learned about how sometimes, for whatever reason, a person may have diminished capacity in one sense and their brain reacts by heightening another sense to accommodate for the handicap. for example, a blind person may have an extraordinary sense of hearing to help them navigate their dark surroundings.

last week for my birthday, i followed a trail and a map and my brother jaren on a 22 mile hike that started in idaho and ended in wyoming. before we left, jaren asked our mom to cuddle his baby for him while we were gone hiking for the day. jaren has become my workout buddy and i knew he would be willing to accompany me over the mountains. i noticed while walking behind him,that anytime there was a boulder within arms length jaren would reach out and slide his fingertips across it to feel its' texture and temperature.

while hiking the winding trails, my mind wandered with me and covered all the topics that patrol my thoughts these days. i thought about my sister, lisa, and how much i miss her, and how deeply she experiences things, and how she is, finally, living the life she deserves filled with love and travel and athletic success. and, i thought about how when she hugs me she smells my hair. she says it helps her remember me while we are apart.

near sunset lake, jaren and i sat on a flat rock and looked at the topographical map that my oldest brother johnny printed for me on his architectural plotter. johnny, ever the quiet observer, has left his capable footprints on many a ridge top and canyon floor. he once exclaimed amazement at all the different shades of green there are in nature and, that statement, changed the way i looked at the world and fueled my interest to spend more time in the wilderness.

the world sometimes presents trials and ailments and my brother joey, a doctor, has learned how to ease them. with a stethoscope in his ears, he listens to heartbeats and without judgement, he provides support. once, joey heard the way a certain high-school senior talked to me and steered me away when i was too naive to know better and that was when i knew he had my back and would always take care of me.

for the last few miles of our hike, i led and jaren followed. i felt the coolness, emanating from the forest and the mountain fed lake, on my salty sun-parched lips as i jogged over the rolling landscape leading to the parking lot. while waiting for our ride, i purchased two bottles of chocolate milk and smiled with satisfaction after pouring the sweet liquid over my tongue and down my throat. the cold milk, a polar opposite of the warm water i had been drinking from my bleach-treated bladder bag, had intense flavor and it whet my appetite. when our ride arrived i asked her to navigate straight to a jackson hole restaurant for chunky salsa, salty chips, and a skillet-full of sizzling fajitas.

after 17 years, i can't identify my siblings without thinking about my youngest brother, josh. he died in a car accident at age 15. he had a big personality and people were drawn to him. somehow, it seemed, that he was able to orchestrate and entertain the masses and people often found themselves doing things for him. he had big blue eyes and long eyelashes that made it hard to say no to him. he was funny, and popular, and knew how to wink at girls. and, being around josh minimized our weaknesses and heightened our quality of life.

while driving home from my hike, it occurred to me, that together, my siblings and i make up a whole unit of senses and we all have our own unique abilities to share. when one sense is diminished, another is sent to provide support through their individual capabilities. my sense of taste and my love of good food is the catalyst i use to bring my family together or to comfort those in need. i cook and they come. this, sometimes, is the only thing i have to offer and i pray that it is enough. the others, follow their own senses and provide service accordingly.

and, somehow, this process is orchestrated by a sibling that no longer shares our space but continues to heighten our quality of life, help us navigate our surroundings, allow accommodation for our handicaps, and to remind us that we are not alone.

rushing through august

i spent a summer or two, years ago, on idaho rivers kayaking with my brothers. we slid into our kayaks early in the day and played in the water until evening, only stopping to eat and warm ourselves on the sandy banks.  when water rushes downstream over rocks and other landscapes it can create waves and those waves are put into "classes" according to their size.  the class of a rapid can help a kayak-er determine whether their own skill level is adequate for its' difficulty.  i, however, had a habit of judging a rapid simply by how queasy my stomach felt while i was looking at it.  there was one such string of rapids located on a sharp 90 degree turn in a river that was quite intimidating to me.  i watched, as several of our party successfully navigated the big water and then i had a choice, i could follow the more experienced kayak-ers and learn something new or i could hop out of my craft and portage around the rapid.  choosing to portage would have relieved my anxiety but it would have been, more so than paddling through the rapids, physically challenging as it would require me to carry all of my gear up a steep embankment and around large boulders and then back down the hillside to the water.  secondary to the physical fatigue of this endeavor was the fact that, mentally, i would take a step back and my fear of future rapids would continue.

for multiple reasons, the last year or so has been physically and emotionally tasking for me and my confidence has been low anyway but august, the entire month, seems to suck the marrow out of my bones a little bit more as each day builds up on the calendar.  in august of 2004, just days after my dad took his own life, i decided to continue training for my planned race even though the recent events made me feel, physically, like i was running through taffy and i could barely breathe.  three weeks later, i finished the mesa falls 1/2 marathon, my 1st race of that distance, and proved to myself that i could face hard hill climbs and pain and still keep moving.

ty was born in late june of 2005 and three weeks later i climbed onto the saddle of my dad's road bike for the first time ever and started training for the rush triathlon.  the rush, a race i had watched a few times with my dad, was to be held on the third saturday in august and i knew i had to do it, both for him and to provide a distraction for me.   with my doctor's approval, barring any bleeding issues,  i trained for 26 straight days and then finished the sprint distance for, and in memory of, my dad who never got to do it.

i have participated in the rush triathlon every august since then, without question, until this year.  i started running consistently in the spring of 2004 after a late mis-carriage and i trained year-round at a high level of intensity and stayed in really good shape.  in fact, three years ago i was called on a wednesday evening to join a 3 person relay team for 50 mile mountain race being held on saturday.  when jimmy, not a fan of my last minute decisions, asked me why i had to do it i reminded him that not many people are in good enough shape or are willing to run 18 miles in the mountains with only a few days notice.  this last year though, my training has been at the lowest intensity and very sporadic and my confidence has suffered tremendously for it causing me to question my ability to race. 

when august of 2011 began its' inevitable squeeze on my psyche i decided that more consistent training was necessary to keep myself moving and to help pull myself out of the taffy.  as i covered mile after very slow mile i began to realize that many of my august issues are old stresses that have been buried or, somehow, portaged around and left unresolved.  issues, like feeling inadequate, being rejected and abandoned, losing control, and not being good enough began to resurface and force a confrontation and i have been warring with myself for a couple of weeks trying to make sense of it.

relationships with loved ones have suffered the august effects, too, and upon hearing about an issue i was having with olivia, a friend mentioned  that my daughter was just trying to figure out who she is.  while this thought struck me as an accurate conclusion for the behavior of a soon-to-be-teenaged girl, i realized that it is true for me, too. 
last wednesday, i got a phone call from the race director of the rush wondering if i was going to return and defend my title as the previous years winner and course record holder.  as he is also my friend, he asked me why i had not registered and was there anything he could do to help me out.  i told him no at the time but little did he know (or maybe he knows me too well...) that he started a train of thought that took me back to the river and that kayak and i had to decide if i would portage or participate.

i was intimidated by my perception of others' expectations of me and how i should perform and i knew my lack of training would prevent me from competing at the level i have become accustomed to.  i felt that my current skill level was not equivilent to the class of terrain i would encounter for this race.   i thought, however, that portaging this particular event was a bad idea and any physical pain and fatigue would be worth the resulting confidence boost and distraction i would receive as i worked my way through the course.  i knew that i could not possibly out-perform my well-trained competitors and this would relieve some of the pressure but i also knew that part of me would try and i wasn't convinced i had it in me to cause my self more suffering than i was already experiencing. i made myself a little queasy trying to decide and had to chew on a few antacids to settle my stomach, just as i used to before big water sections in my kayak.

as life happens, i try to adapt and evolve and move forward and in some ways i am in a constant state of re-evaluating and searching to find who i am and like the waves on the rivers, i am always changing. however, for me, the most consistently successful way to resolve issues, gain confidence, and feel peace is through athletic endeavors, like the rush triathlon, climbing mountains, and kayaking idaho rivers.  and, if i surround myself with other athletes at those events i can soak up their energy and i will grow without much effort.  as i become physically stronger, i build mental muscle that provides me the courage to confront whatever the landscape is that creates the waves i sometimes encounter and portaging, while sometimes necessary, is often detrimental to that process.

years ago, i chose to face those rapids head-on and i felt their strength splash me in the face and make me stronger as i paddled my way through and last saturday i soaked up that same power, though the water was calm, as i dove into the lake and took my place among other rush triathlon competitors.  i learned more about myself, and about my place, and about my resilience in the combined moments of these athletic undertakings than i have ever learned from a portage.  and, i learned that if i can complete a triathlon with very little training that i can probably make it through august.

august

i love fall.  i love sweaters.  i love football games and thanksgiving and i love chocolate chip pumpkin cookies and i love hot chocolate with tons of marshmellows.
i love winter.  i love snow. i love crisp cold mornings. i love hiking in the mountains and sliding down the hillside on my snowshoes and i love sledding with my kids.  i love driving thru drifts and running in the dark.
i love springtime. i love new life and new love. and i love muddy trails and rainbows.  i love baby animals and i love sunsets.
i love july.  i love backyard bbq's and swimming pools.. i love sparklers and watermelon.  i love campfires and i love toasted marshmellows.  and i love a cool open water swim and long bike ride.

but i hate august.  i hate the schedules and i hate the rushing around.  i hate the heat when i'm trapped inside.  i hate that august took my dad and my brother and my uncle. and i hate that august accentuates my crazy.  and i hate that it sneaks up on me and it takes me until the 17th to figure out why i'm all out of sorts.

happy birthday to me

i am going to be 36 years old soon.  i panicked for a minute the other day when it occurred to me that 36 rounds up to 40 and 40 is only 10 years away from 50. it made me a little dizzy to think about being 50 but then i remembered that i am a perpetual child and that my life-style should allow me to dictate, somewhat, what 50 feels like and then my thoughts equalized.  however, the fact remains and whether i like it or not, i have a birthday coming up and my age number has to change.  not surprisingly, change causes me to reflect on my life and where i have come from and how to resolve whatever issues i am dealing with presently.  historically, for me, my logic and my heart are most clear when i am training and when i indulge daily on lung-fulls of fresh cool air, and when i bathe myself in the brightness of sunrises, and when i surround myself with the camaraderie of equal friendships.

for several reasons, i have spent much of this last year neglecting my training, avoiding my friends, and dealing with life issues and insecurities that have made it difficult for even the most spectacular of sunrises to seep into my frontal lobe.  except for some trails, a few road miles, and sporadic trips to the climbing gym i have been pretty inactive.

after watching me and the kids boulder at the gym yesterday, jimmy commented about how the kids were constantly calling attention to their routes and the muscles they are building and wanting him to express his excitement about their progress.  we talked about how kids do things, often seeking acceptance and approval.

then, i realized i do this, too.  as a perpetual kid, i still do things seeking acceptance and approval.

weeks ago, i went for a bike ride in the rain.  it had been a long hard day at work and i needed some fresh air.  i decided to ride down this old farm road that i knew had some good rolling hills on it.  i took a risk, choosing this route, knowing that several days of rain would have made it muddy but i thought a little adventure might be good for me.  within a few minutes, the wet dirt began sticking to my tires and filling my spokes and soon after that, i could no longer cover any ground because the mud was so thick.  i ended up carrying my mud-heavy bike for about an hour, struggling with every step as my shoes sunk into the ground.  what started as workout for stress relief quickly became an exercise in perseverance and endurance and instead of coming home relaxed, i came home covered in mud and bruises.  after stripping down to my underwear in the garage, i walked through the house to my shower feeling a little exposed and very humbled.

it occurs to me that sometimes i put energy into things that, for what ever reason, are unable to reciprocate in kind, or at least, the way i hope they would.  sometimes, seeking acceptance from others is a useless endeavor if i am unwilling to accept myself first.  i don't know why, when i have learned so many things over my years, i continue to exhibit child-ish behaviors and seek for approval in places other than my own heart and mind.  curiously, i wonder if i push limits, unintentionally, hoping for an outward expression of acceptance but fully expecting rejection and then, for some reason, i am confused when the latter happens.  stupid, right?

for my birthday, i think i will give myself a gift.  or several...i will give myself gifts of fresh air, daily sunshine, and loving family and friends.  i fully expect that there will be times when i find myself on a difficult route or facing rejection and, hopefully, i will find a way to get through it and recover.  mud washes off and painful bruises fade over time but as these experiences become part of me i hope i can allow personal acceptance to seep in with the sunshine and perpetuate personal change.

"never in your wildest dreams..."

it's odd, sometimes, where the catalyst comes from.  i have been considering the concept of regret lately and the creation of this line of thinking occurred while watching a "feeling bad for your actions and making amends" themed dance on a reality show.  i was stunned by the looks of absolute anguish on both the dancers face and that of the celebrity judge.  when finished, the dancer apologized to his mother for having been a little too rambunctious and causing her to struggle.  In turn, the judge expressed sadness over youthful indiscretions and unkindnesses to others.  from my couch, i could feel her regret.  i watched her tear soaked face, and the way her features froze as her thoughts turned inward while being transported, by the message and power of this dance, back to days when she knew little of who she was and chose an action that would hurt another.

why is it that we make the decisions that we sometimes make?  are we selfish? can we not fully understand the impact of our actions?  do we not know who we are?  do we not care about ourselves or not know our worth?  are we lost? are we inherently flawed?

for the last three days at work we have been removing sections of malignant melanoma from the face of a man that i had as a teacher in high school.  we have talked about how much time has gone by and how much i have changed and he said this to me, "never, in your wildest dreams, did you ever consider that you would be doing this procedure on your teacher this many years later?" honestly, i can recall very little of the subject that he taught me but i do remember that he was always kind to me.  sadly, the depth of the melanoma in the skin indicates a poor prognosis and even removing all of it won't be enough to ensure his long term survival.

we have yet to repair his wound as the pathologist has not declared his margins to be clear and because we removed the last section of skin after regular work hours last night we missed the courier who delivers specimen to the lab.  in order to continue the process for this patient, i brought the speciman home with me and will deliver it this morning and hope that these margins are melonoma free.

having this bio-hazard in our home sparked some conversation with my kids and some of their friends and i firmly stated my wish for them to always be nice to their teachers.  they laughed and immediately thought of the pranks they wanted to play and giggled about certain teachers names, like kids do, and i knew they couldn't fully comprehend what i was trying to convey.  i told them that someday they would grow up and be professionals and be required to perform services on/for the people who taught them knowledge and life skills and their competency could be judged, initially, on how they had behaved. 

we, collectively as human beings, make decisions sometimes based on where we are, emotionally, in that moment and we cannot fully grasp the impact for ourselves and others.  i have seen those looks before, the ones i saw on the dancer and the judge, and i have seen them in the mirror as i have questioned my actions and considered my carelessness.  and though i have an idea where the emotional catalyst for my decision-making spurs from, i am not quite sure how to improve or resolve or find the grounding required to both stop making mistakes and to forgive myself for mistakes of yesterday.

i have, as many of us do, many flaws and imperfections to work on. but, thankfully, i can say i always treated this teacher with respect and i am incredibly grateful that his trust in this process is not compromised by my immaturity as a teenager.

and, i sincerely wish him well.

to my family

we have done some traveling recently.  when we left for texas, one of the first things we felt it necessary to do was to buy an atlas. every time someone would ask us "how much farther", we would tell them to check the atlas.  our atlas could tell us where we were, presently, in relation to how far we had come and how much distance we had yet to travel.

we followed the atlas to texas and though many things have changed, both jimmy and i felt the history and memories of our first year spent together there as intensely as we felt the heat.  we spent time with his family, told stories from their past, and learned briefly how to care for his father who is struggling with poor health due to diabetes, weight issues, and congestive heart failure. 

i took my kids to bear lake last weekend for a small family reunion and spent saturday with my face to the sun and watched them play in the water like i did at their age.  we, three generations of us,  ate sandwiches at picnic tables with our feet in the sand while i remembered similar happenings from years ago with my grandparents and my siblings.

the next day, we traveled to randolph, utah to see my great grandmother's home and visit the cemetery where many of my maternal relatives are buried.  we sat in the shade and listened to tales of m.i.a. p.o.w.'s, of infamous wolf kills, and of death that comes too soon for various reasons. 

while visiting the now uninhabited home of my great grandmother, i peeked into the windows and saw an old hand-made quilt and i wandered around the out-buildings finding other old objects from their lives.  i found myself considering my ancestry and wondering what kind of traits i may have inherited from powerful men and women whose cells i carry.  as is the nature of life, there are bad things that come along with the good.

in september, i will celebrate my 36th birthday and in some ways i am younger now than i have ever been.  as life throws me both opportunity and chaos forcing me to evaluate and re-invent i am learning, like my children, to communicate, to process, and to evolve.  and to fix what i have broken, to serve, to fight harder, and to love myself better. 

i would guess that, collectively, my siblings and jimmy's siblings share versions of similar stories and struggle likewise, to varying degrees, with issues passed down from those that came before us. but sometimes we, connected at times only through our weaknesses, forget that along with depression, self-hatred, addictive personalities, and weight issues, we have been handed incredible strength.

we often refer to the fact that our father ran 80-100 miles per week in his attempts to outrun his demons and we use this as an example of his inability to manage stress.  we should, however, consider how physically and mentally demanding it is to put your body through that much work and celebrate this perseverance, dedication, and strength.

we should remember that grandpa rex, though struggling and dying young with kidney issues, took aim at those wolves and protected his cattle.  he did this knowing, without a doubt, that he could use his rifle to its very limits when noone else could.

we should remember the women who bravely continued to carry and bear children even when the likelihood of loss due to infection, illness, and still birth was so great.  and the women who, in an attempt to avoid ever allowing her children feel unloved and hungry, used the forethought and planning it took to feed us. and we should remember the women that slept on the floor near our beds when we were sick or injured.

these were the men and women that, eventually, got us here through hard work, planning, adaptability, and perseverance.

and we should remember that regardless of whether these skills were ones they developed or were learned behaviors, it makes no difference because we have them now.  and we have used them, too.  we have trained for and completed ironman triathlons,we have climbed big mountains and continued to grow in our abilities,we have gone to medical school and learned how to facilitate life and perpetuate health, we have conquered addictions, survived horrific loss, and provided support  (and cheesecake) to our loved ones while they suffered despite our own heartache.  and we can and will do it again. 

where ever we are now, good or bad, we have the ability, the strength, the stamina, and the support to help ourselves and each other create positive change.

we just need to open up that atlas, see where we have come from, accept where we are now, pick a destination and move towards it.

i love you all.

the many faces of ty

"you can count days, or you can make days count."

After several attempts, I finally stayed awake through the movie Inception.  I am still completely confused by the whole thing but, basically, the movie is about a team of people who build dreams within dreams to gather information and perpetuate certain future actions by their chosen subject.  The team enters the dream state, does their business, and a "kick" or a quick jolt is used to wake them and bring them back to reality.  The theory of "inception" is to implant an idea that when the subject awakens, he/she will then act upon it benefiting the party financing the entire thing. In order to make it seem as if the dreamer/subject came up with this idea on his own, the creators have to produce multiple layers of consciousness.  Each added layer presents more challenges and more risk of getting stuck and it turns out that the main character, Cobb, has some secrets that begin to complicate matters for everyone.  Certain events from his past keep Cobb from being able to move forward and he has "built" for himself some "memories" that because of guilt or other attachments he has been unable to let go and parts of these designs begin to infiltrate the dreams used for the mission. Due to the danger of becoming unable to distinguish between the architect-ed dreams and the "real world", Cobb and his team have chosen small items called "totems" that can be carried at all times and the weight and/or action of them help the user determine the reality of each situation.  Cobbs totem is a spinning top that will fall when the gravity of reality pulls it downward.

Recently, I assisted with a surgical repair of a large melanoma that required the surgeon to separate a portion of the patients facial and neck skin in order to rotate it around to fill the space where the affected skin had been removed.  To assist the doctor, I held the skin in my hand while hemostasis was obtained.  To help the patient, and lighten the sterile atmosphere of the room, I conversed with the patient and his wife.  I became aware that they had been business acquaintances of my dad.  While we talked, thoughts of my dad came flooding in.  Memories of watching him work, sitting at his drafting table, and hearing him tell stories about meetings he attended.  I mentioned that it was nice to visit with people who remember him as there are many in my life now who have never met him.

Later that day I took some of my kids bouldering out to the old Teton dam site.  As my thoughts wandered, I overheard the kids talking about the dam breaking and a grandpa (that they have never met) clearing the area that day of construction workers with a warning of impending danger and then fleeing the canyon behind them as the dam broke and washed away the earth behind him. And more memories came flooding in...I thought about driving out to the site with my dad, sitting next to him on the fabric seat of the old pick-up truck, eating cookies and drinking a cold can of rootbeer as I listened to his stories.  It made me feel like a kid again.

So, as a proverbial kid feeling the loss of my father and without perspective gained over years of growth and prayer, I was unprepared to process my thoughts when the guy down the canyon began shooting his gun at the canyon walls.  More than a hundred shots and shells and echos later, I forgot how to breath and felt stuck between two levels of consciousness. One level where all I could hear was the sound of the weapon that took his life and another level as a mother feeling helpless to protect her kids as we walked out of the canyon. I was anxious not knowing where this shooter was, angry that no one was there to help me, and frustrated that I had so little control over my emotions.  I felt like that top from the movie, spinning to no end in the dream state and it made me dizzy.  I needed a "kick" or a totem to help me understand and move forward.

But, because I did not have a totem, I waited and struggled for days...so deep in this previously hidden level of space and consciousness, and I could hardly move.  My loss and lack of control so overwhelming to me that I was unable to see my way out of it.  Logic pervaded me and I tortured myself with questions left unanswered, things I want desperately and couldn't have, and fears that weaken my self-esteem.  And I could not wake up no matter how hard I fought the dream and it hurt.

After a night of restless sleep and with a stabbing pain in my back, I dragged myself out of bed, took some motrin, threw on some completely un-matched running clothes, drove out to Heise, and forced myself onto the hillside.  And I counted.  I counted my footsteps...and each breath until it was no longer an effort to take them.  I continued upwards to the top and each time I purposefully emptied my lungs, I chose to let go of the chaos that interferes with everything else and that, for the last couple of days, had completely ruled me.  I let go of negative thoughts, breathed away the desperation of missing people and things, and left the need for answers on the brush of that hillside.   It felt good.  And  it felt cathartic.

It was then that I remembered I do have a totem and I always have had it with me; I just need to remember how to use it.
 
It is the sound of my own breath when I move over the earth and I push my body to cover distance.  It is the air in my lungs that allows me to climb to the tops of things.  It is the notes of my off-key singing when I bust out to the radio with my girls while the wind blows through the backseat.  It is even the breath that catches when someone I love plants a soft kiss on my lips.  It, for me, is the perfect totem and I won't forget it again.

I descended the hillside with renewed energy, deep rhythmic healing breaths, and a new level of consciousness.

I noticed something that I had not seen on the way up.  In my stressed out oblivion I had completely missed the cemetery that marks the sacred history of the family who developed the area.  The words carved on the headstone of a friend from school, taken too early, read, "You can count days, or you can make days count."

And this, was just the "kick" I needed.

south park with ty and izzy

this wind sucks...and blows!

There is something about listening to the wind that slowly sucks the life right out of me and makes me feel completely alone and needy.   I hate to admit it but when the wind blows and my inner princess colors start to fly and I want just want to lay in bed, ring a bell, and have all my wishes served to me on a silver platter.  I don't even want to expend the energy to figure out what my wishes are; I just want them delivered.  And now.  I want my mind read and my belly and my soul fed.

There is a bouldering route that I have been working on for months now.  (In the gym, because the weather is too crappy to entice me outside.)  It had occupied so many of my thoughts that, in a way, it became a tangible item that I could carry around with me.  When I first tried this route on the suggestion of another climber, I could not even do the first move.  For me, the holds were more crimpy than what I was accustomed to and often, while working this route, my right wrist and forearm would fatigue much sooner than my desire and determination.  Over time, I got stronger and I added to my route sequence until I could  complete every move except the last one without even thinking about it.  I could visualize each move in my head and I dreamt about it often. But, that last move!  Ugh, it consumed me and I did it wrong so many times that my tangible item become something that carried me around.  Finally, with support, encouragement, and constant beta from other climbers, I was finally able to send it.  It was awesome.  But, sadly, it felt a little anti-climatic for me.  Stupid, right?  In prior athletic endeavors, when I have finished or won a race, my family is often there and they hug me in celebration.  And last night,  that was missing.  I mean, Ty was there but he's a little too big for his britches if-ya-know-what-I-mean...and hugging his mom in public is no longer cool and I wanted a proper hug.  I have become spoiled by supportive loved ones.

So, here's my question.  Now what? Now that this route is no longer fueling me, what do I put my energy into for the summer?  I'm pretty sure my yellow route won't miss me as it will have plenty of company but I kinda feel a little lost now. 

Ridiculous, I know.  The moon is full, and I mean full...have you seen it?  And this wind is making me crazy!   So, help me out and tell me...Now what?
 

more weekend adventures

the kids and i stopped at maverick on the way to kelly canyon for our hiking adventure. i had to entice them with snacks to get them to go with me and i asked olivia to load my pack while i drove. my sweet olivia is twelve now and only listens to about 1/3 of the things i say to her and instead of stashing the extra gatorade's in the back of my car for future use, she shoved them in my pack.

we parked the car, put on our packs, and started hiking up the road to the trail head. the route i had chosen for this short, kid friendly hike began with 20 feet of muddy incline steep enough to require one to dig their feet into the mush and grab hold of the brush in order to make progress up the slope. it quickly became obvious we weren't the only species making our way onto the trail as we noticed deer, dog, and even eery  bear prints scratched into the earth. i had been talking to the kids about paying attention to nature and the amazing world that surrounds us and this discovery made us even more aware. i wasn't too worried though as i guessed that those tracks had been made when the ground was much wetter from rain than it was presently, giving those animals at least a day or two head start.

olivia and lincoln began teasing ty about the possibility of his falling into some poison ivy and that he better learn how to identify it. ty is the youngest child, accustomed to being spoiled, and tends to be quickly reactive and, of course, this set him off and he started whining. walking directly behind ty and his newly acquired "walking stick", olivia realized she was in danger of being hit in the face while ty swung this stick at passing trees and she began yelling at him to walk faster. i told her to go in front of him, which is when the whining about "budging in line" started. at this point, lincoln, in all seriousness asked, "are we done yet?" i looked at my watch and reported that we had been hiking for precisely 6 minutes and 20 seconds.

we continued our hike, following the trail which at times declined for a while before heading upward again.  we were still in the trees and it was difficult for the kids to visualize the top of the mountain. having hiked this trail before, i knew what to expect and could encourage them on with a explanation of what kind of landmarks to look for and could provide an estimated time frame which helped them be more patient with our progress.

soon, we got to a clearing and the trail became more obvious to them. the markers were no longer attached to trees but to the tops of tall metal spikes that pierced the ground and showed the way. we agreed that we would hike two more markers and then sit for lunch and rest. once there, i pointed out that since we had hiked high enough to see over the trees that once impeded our visibility, we could now see the valley floor both eastward and westward and the view was spectacular. and for a few moments the kids could appreciate this new perspective, given to them only after effort and sweat had been shed.

we sat, we watched, we ate, and we talked. we pointed out the landmarks that we could see differently now from above, like the giant hole in the ground caused by a mudslide, the roads, and the rocks that have become familiar to us over the last year of exploring new hobbies. and while the kids watched the earth, i watched the kids...and gained a new perspective of them...beyond their whining and their complaining. i could see that they got it, if only a portion of it but they got it, nonetheless.

i noticed at this point that my pack was loaded with a lot of extra weight; way more gatorade than we could possibly consume on this short hike and while i was strong enough to carry it without problem, it was still more than i needed to haul. i had no choice, on top of the mountain, but to stick it back in my pack and carry it back down to the vehicle. after we resumed walking, a herd of cows forced us to circle around the known trail and through the brush side-hilling towards a low spot in the landscape and a dry stream bed that i believed would eventually lead us back to the trail or at least down to the canyon floor and our ride home.

and it did. 

when we reached the road, we crossed over and soaked our feet in the cool stream of mountain run-off and expressed our excitement of all we had seen and experienced. the kids talked about all the tangible things they had seen; the trees, the tracks, the flowers, the other peaks, and the clouds.

but i hope that someday they would see more.

i hope they will see that sometimes we have to push further to get through the trees and into the clearing. i hope they will see that following other footprints is often a good idea but that sometimes we have to be brave enough to forge our own path. i hope they will see that sometimes we carry unnecessary weight and we should re-evaluate, often,  what we keep in our packs and that sometimes our complaining prohibits us from fully accepting our outward surroundings and that sometimes we have to dig our feet in and pull ourselves up out of the mush.

and i hope they will see that the view and the rewards and the snacks are much sweeter when earned and when shared with people we love.