Life...and stuff.

Covered by their winter abundance, the boughs droop to the ground in stress. The sky is close and the air is moist on my face as I move through the trees. I'm awake before the snowcat and the snow is deep and sticky and wet on the trail. Feeling the weight of the winter on my feet and life's burdens on my shoulders, my movement is slow and my heart feels heavy.

They say that when one sense is limited another gets amplified. And, for me this morning, the thick fog impairs my vision enough that I can hear, out loud, the thoughts cycling through my head ... I've known her my whole life and now she's gone. Her family will miss her but she has suffered so much lately, the cancer and subsequent treatment and sudden loss of her husband ultimately too much for her... Then, I think about Morgan, cancer free and recovering from a double mastectomy at age 16. That girl is beautiful, feisty, and tough as nails. . . My sister and her daughter with broken hearts, as they've watched a loved one be replaced by an unrecognizable entity ravaged by addiction . . . A wife, not even close to complete since the death of her husband . . .

I feel guilty for feeling sorry for myself when others are dealing with so much more. . .Saying goodbye to parts of themselves, their mothers, their lost children, their souls, their soulmates, their security. How can I justify my lost sleep and tears? I can, because all of these others are part of me, part of what makes me...well, me. Their loss is my loss and I feel their broken hearts and I am powerless to resolve it for them. Loving them seems like peanuts compared to what I would offer if I could.

With tired legs, I climb the hill and watch the trees occasionally lose the battle and drop their burdens to the ground. Suddenly free, these branches whip upward before returning to their natural position while others continue to fight against the piles of snow that threaten them.

It occurs to me that sometimes I am one tree, fighting the good fight and sometimes I am another, giving in to the weight of the snow and for a minute I consider how I can, more often, be the first tree, stalwart and strong.

Then, I realize that though I am weary, I am still moving and making progress through the trees. I have reached the summit and have begun the decline that would eventually take me back to my vehicle. As I hike, my steps are quicker and my stride opens up to cover more distance with each turnover until I am running down the hillside, powder up to my thighs, my snowshoes sliding with each footfall. I have to move quickly now that gravity is aiding my descent and I am laughing, out loud, with the joy of the physical freedom and the relief of stresses having been processed throughout my climb.

I know now that loving them is enough and that even if a few of my branches fall I can still stand strong against the elements and protect the smaller trees on the downhill slope.

SNOW SNOW SNOW

I'm so excited about the snow...and warm chocolate chip cookies!

Antelope inspiration

I sprained my ankle this summer and I've been pretty sick for a while now. Nothing too serious but enough to wear me out and make me miss the majority of my workouts. In fact, when I begin again, I'll be starting over and the thought of where I was in comparison to how I feel now kind of freaks me out.

It's so tough to get started! And I feel like I'm running with someone else's body. Someone else's broken, tired body...

I was laying on the couch today while Jimmy was flipping channels on the television. His remote rested on a hunting show just as the hunter made the decision to use his tag to help an injured antelope instead of waiting for the trophy pronghorn they had seen earlier to come in. The antelope appeared to have a broken front leg and his walking was labored. The hunter took aim with his bow, shot, and the arrow pierced the animal's body. The antelope ran about a hundred yards before it fell to the ground. That scene only lasted seconds but in that short time it occurred to me that when this antelope ran...it was fast. The antelope had adapted to it's injury by dragging it's damaged leg and used only the other three to move. It could barely walk, but it could run... super fast!

How often do I allow my weaknesses dictate what I can do? I feel like I've been doing that a lot lately. I've been tired, and cranky and whining about a sprained ankle and some pesky body aches instead of adapting to what my present circumstances could allow me to do.

ENOUGH!

I'm going to ignore the fact that the hunter shot the antelope and it's now hanging on a wall somewhere and focus on the way that animal moved when pressed. It was awesome to watch and for some disturbingly strange reason, it was the push that I needed to get moving again.

I wish I was here today.

Swimming in the river and laying in the hot sand.

This sheep is stuck on the east wall of the canyon at the dam. I can't figure out how to get it out of there. ???

I did, however, figure out how to master this dyno from the sit start to the ramp on this route. I've been working on it all summer. I'm pretty stoked about it. I can even do it without looking like a total ameteur.

Darby

I love this picture of me and Jimmy. It's funny how we are standing...Olivia took the picture and you can't tell that we are balancing on the guard rail at the top of this mountain pass. It's kind of like having a secret...but one I'm willing to share. This picture makes me think of something much more than the scenery. It is a promise, if only for us, for new beginings and our journey to try new things and REALLY live life together. We drove to Lewiston this last weekend for a golf tournament and a family vacation. We covered new ground and rolled the windows down. We felt the heat of the sun and cooled ourselves in the rivers. We laughed like kids and sang really loud. Don't we look content? and happy?