A Dream Takes Shape

On Mother's Day 2014 I decided I wanted to spend some quality away time with my family.  Years ago my step dad bought a mobile home in Steamboat Springs, CO on a whim while passing through on vacation.  One year later my husband and I relocated to the Denver metro area from Florida.  Since that time we have frequented the Steamboat Springs area, using it as a getaway just 3 hours from home.  In that time we have come to love the small ski resort town even though we rarely ski and have never skied in Steamboat.  We love the summers there.  The farmer's market, the bike trail across town, the beautiful hikes in the nearby mountains, the quaint restaurants (although touristy at times) and the vibe from the people all made us use it as our go to summer place in the mountains.  Kids came along and we loved it even more.  From my parents' house the Botanic Gardens are just a short walk away where the kids love to play follow the leader and we can enjoy the beautiful landscape.  My son can play baseball on the fields next to the gardens, and we can stick the kiddos in the bike trailer (my son is now riding far enough to ride his own bike) and ride to a multitude of playgrounds.

Back to the Mother's Day weekend.  We went up expecting some snow, but were completely unprepared for what happened.  On our way home on Mother's Day we got stuck in a blizzard on Rabbit Ears Pass, getting onto the pass just minutes before it was closed due to accidents galore.  I have to say it was my scariest drive in the snow since moving to Colorado.  In town, it was barely snowing, but the pass was white out conditions.  Cars and semis were slid off the road everywhere.  It took us three hours just to get to Kremmling, CO, a town that usually takes an hour or less to travel to.  Five hours later we were home.  Since our weekend was thwarted by bad weather, we decided that we would make a return trip the following week to enjoy all that Steamboat has to offer during nice weather.

The following weekend was beautiful.  There was no sign of the weather that had nearly trapped us the weekend before.  During the week we had discussed traveling west of Steamboat to see what the neighboring towns had to offer since our love of Steamboat and all things small town had grown in the recent years and we were curious if relocation was a possibility, knowing we couldn't afford to live in Steamboat, the third most expensive place in the state behind Aspen and Vail.  We took a day and drove to Hayden, CO, 20 miles west of Steamboat and Craig, CO, 17 miles past Hayden.  We quickly fell in love with Hayden with it's small size, (pop 1800) beautiful, albeit not Steamboat type beautiful, views.  We also drove to Craig, which I'd briefly considered moving to when I first was looking to relocate to Colorado, but I found it to be too conservative for my taste.  Craig was a slightly larger town than Steamboat with a large mining contingency and a K-Mart and Walmart (not my favorite corporation).  Immediately on returning to Steamboat we put the kids down for a nap and broke out the computer.  If there were jobs available for physical therapists in NW Colorado we were going to find them.  Hayden, CO was where we wanted to live! Being used to commuting 20-30 miles easily because of living in Roxborough, CO outside of the Denver metro area, the commute from Hayden to either Steamboat or Craig did not seem daunting.  

The paper had an opening at the NW Colorado Visiting Nurses' Association and Zack found a job opening possibly at a skilled nursing facility in Craig.  Ultimately he wanted to work for Yampa Valley Medical Center so he applied to a PRN position.  In Hayden there was an assisted living facility and when I googled it I found that the site said "therapy coming soon."  I sent them an email, explaining that I was a therapist interested in relocating to the area and wondering if they had in house therapy or contracted with someone.  I never realized that that email would set the ball rolling that would turn into the whirlwind move that would ensue.  

When we returned home, Zack had applied for a couple of jobs and I hadn't applied for anything.  That evening, while we were watching TV, Zack's phone rang.  Ironically it was a recruiter who wanted to know if we had any "needs."  Since on the way home we had a long discussion about whether this was just another thing we were going to talk or something we were actually going to make happen and we were both on board that this was something we REALLY wanted to do, we gave her our info and our needs.  She had no idea what she was getting into and our relationship with her quickly fell apart in the coming days.  The small town therapy community was all interconnected with no room for a recruiter.  I got a call from the NW VNA the next day wanting to interview me.  I was completely baffled how they got my information and the recruiter seemed upset, seeming to believe I was pursuing opportunities without discussing them with her.  When I finally spoke with the VNA, I found out that my email to the assisted living, which unbeknownst to me the VNA owns, had been forwarded to her and thus, the plan was set in motion.  We had a phone interview, everything went very well and we set up a time to meet in person, which meant another weekend trip to Steamboat, damn! 

The weekend following my birthday trip to the sand dunes and Pagosa Springs, I went on a ride along for a couple of visits with the other physical therapist. She would be covering Routt County and I would be covering Moffat County, a very rural county with Craig being the main town.  I immediately liked the vibe I got from the facility.  I would have the chance to become hospice certified, which I think I would like immensely, and everyone was very friendly and welcoming and very casual.  I could tell the pace would be a lot different from what I was used to in the Denver market of skilled nursing.  We drove 40+ miles to a rural house beyond Craig.  The drive was so relaxing a peaceful, but all I could think about was the drive in the winter.  I made sure to ask about it during our time together.  I'm still not convinced driving between towns will be a piece of cake, but that may be a moot point depending on where we end up living. More on that in a later post.  After the rural house we headed to the retirement apartment complexes in town, which happened to be just a block away from the SNF that I had also applied to.  After the two visits I was sold on changing genres in physical therapy and settling in to a much slower paced life and career.  I loved everything about it, the people, the job, the setting.  I was ready to move to NW Colorado if offered the job.  Now to just wait...

Georgetown to Idaho Springs 1/2 marathon: Sensory overload

When I signed up to run the Georgetown to Idaho Springs 1/2 marathon, I did it because it was a good deal on a run with a scenic course.  I'd sworn off of 1/2 marathons the year before, but $25 for a 1/2 marathon?!  That was too good to pass up.  Little did I know that I would start training late and be stymied in my training by family life and injuries.  Little did I know that running downhill was so painful.  Little did I know a few oversights at 5 am on race day would mean pain!  And little did I know how proud I could be of myself in a less than stellar performance.  Finishing just 2 minutes longer than my pre children 1/2 marathon in Denver in 2007 and just 10 minutes longer than my Denver Rock-n-Roll time last year, I am pleased considering the circumstances and poor training.  Here's the blog I composed in my head while I ran along I-70's frontage road from Georgetown to Idaho Springs, CO:

5 am: Coffee brewing, bag packed.  As I make the drive to Idaho Springs, the warm coffee begins to wake me up after a terrible night of tossing and turning.  I'm psyched out.  This beautiful, fun race I've signed up to do with my husband has turned into just me because of his broken ankle.  Plus, I've been hearing a bunch of stories from people who have done it before about how hilly the course is and how painful the downhill can be and how they had some of their worst times ever.  I'm not going to lie, I'm dreading this run.  But, I can't not give it my all.  Poor training be damned.  I will run.  I will hurt and I will persevere!

6 am:  Arrive in Idaho Springs.  I've only drank 1/3 of the amount of water I wanted to drink on my way here because my focus has been on coffee.  Crap.  Now I'm starting off dehydrated.  Decisions to be made...do I run in long sleeves or do I put on my tank top and ditch my long sleeve shirt before the race.  Eh, it's chilly but not too cold and once the sun is up it'll be in the 60's at altitude, go for the tank top with the long sleeves on top.  Inhale breakfast, make my way to the bus to Georgetown with banana in hand.  It's go time!

6:15 am:  OMG it's freezing!  And gorgeous!  The Georgetown lake start makes for a chilly beginning to the day.  Take a few pics then huddle beneath a tree for and hour. Plan made.  30 minutes before the start eat banana, go to the bathroom, check long sleeve shirt at gear check.  Shit!  The cold is making my phone battery drain ridiculously fast, put it in airplane mode, curl up in the fetal position and wait...

7:45 am:  Scope my place out in line.  This is by far the smallest event I've ever entered with only 4000 participants so I'm not used to the disorganization.  Fast people in front, slow in back. I make my way to the middle.  I can't feel my hands, feet or arms at this point.  People around me are all just as numb and cold.  It must be less than 45 degrees by the lake.  The announcer makes some comments and the national anthem ensues, which most in line can't hear and don't even realize is happening.  I have a sudden realization:  4000 people, freezing, up before dawn, getting ready to run 13.1 miles...voluntarily.  Either we are all crazy or I have picked the right state to live in.

8 am sharp!:  And we're off.  Mile 1-2 looping around Georgetown.  What a surreal sensation to be running but have zero sensation in my arms or legs because of the cold.  I feel no pain.  2 miles flies by and we are back at the starting line and mile 2.  On cue, the sun finally crests over the mountains and the thaw begins.

Mile 3:  Starting to warm up.  I can do this.  Pacing with the 2:15 minute pacer.  SWEET!  I've never run this fast before.  Feeling good.  Downhill is awesome.  The self talk begins...who needs training?  You've got this.  Could be your best time ever.  Don't get too cocky.  It's still early.

Mile 4:  Water!  And cytomax!  Oh crap, they are out of cytomax...must wait for them to make more.  Eww, the kid is just dipping his hand in the drink...oh well, must drink and move on.  Do you not realize I'm running this for time?!!!  Must catch up to my pacer!

Mile 5:  Ah a feast for the senses, cow manure and road kill!  God, it's getting hot!

Mile 6-7:  Pain.  Ankles and knees starting to feel the pain.  One long uphill...must walk.  Come on, you've got this, run!!!  Oh shit, I didn't bring any fuel.  No shot blocks.  Dumb, rookie mistake.  You've run races before.  You know to bring food!  Dumb, dumb, dumb mistake.  This will come back to bite you in the ass!

Mile 7-8:  Hitting the dirt.  Must walk.  Knees and ankles protesting.  Strange to think the surface I trained on most is my downfall.  Narrow trail, being passed.  Fuck you early in the race self that was so cocky.  You didn't train.  You set yourself up for failure.  You suck! Oh crap...I was wearing long sleeves this morning. Now I'm wearing a tank top and I forgot to put on sunscreen.  I'm going to be fried.  Sigh...could I make any more stupid mistakes.  Two shot blocks at mile 8, not enough to get me through the race though.  Goodbye 2:20 pacer.

Mile 8-10:  Pain...that's all there is to say about that.  Ankles, knees.  One foot in front of the other.  Just move.  You can do this.

Mile 10:  Zip lines, can we just take them to the finish?

Mile 10-13: Cramps!!!!!  Calves and hamstrings cramping bad.  A direct result of not enough hydration and fuel.  Toes curling uncontrollable every time I push off with my toes.  Stop many many times to stretch and remove small rocks from shoes.  Am I going to lose toenails?!  It sure feels like it as my toes continue to take a beating on the downhill.  Still able to jog the downhills as long as I don't push off too hard with my toes.  Woosh, there goes the 2:25 pacer...and the 2:30 pacer.   So much for my goal of under 2:30.  Can I finish in under 2:45?  The 2:35 pacer passes me...run, dammit!  Run even if it kills you.  I've made it to the town limits.  Finishers coming back to cheer on those still running.  So close they say.  You've got this they say. Run it out they say.  Feeling motivated.  Pushing on.  Text from Zack says my family is close.  

I start to get emotional.  Through the pain and the cramps I've pushed on, I've done all I can do with very little training.  My kids and husband are here, waiting for me to cross the finish.  And then I see them.  I grab my 4 year old and ask him to cross the finish line with me.  Together we hold hands and jog across the finish line.  I give him a big hug and thank him for coming to watch me run.  

I'm tired, I'm sore.  I stop my stop watch at 2:36 and can't believe that I finished that quickly knowing I walked almost all of the last 4 miles.  Knowing that multiple times I stopped to stretch because of the cramping and that I stopped to empty my shoes of pebbles several times.  Knowing that I had the worst cramps I've ever had running and some of the worst training I've ever done for any event.  We found the official times listed.  2:35:44.  The 2:35 pacer hadn't been on pace when she passed me.  I did it in well under 2:45 even walking a lot.  The final sense of the day was a sense of pride.  I did this.  Even injured and with poor training and a family at home, I did this in a respectable time.  Yes, I was in the lower 50% with my time, finishing just below the 50th percentile, but I'm not a runner.  No matter how many races I've run, it's not my forte.  But I did it.  On a Saturday morning in August, I got up at 4:30 am and I ran/walked 13.1 miles before a lot of people even got out of bed. I'm proud of myself and I'm proud that I am in the best cardiovascular shape of my adult life after giving birth to two kids.  I do not doubt that giving birth to them naturally has made me a stronger person.  I now know there is nothing that I can't do if I set my mind to it.  Pain is temporary and subjective.  I want my kids to know that too and know their mama is a strong woman.  Today, I feel strong!

Adventures in weaning part deux

I just finished rereading my first weaning experience with my first born child, the child that required being nursed to sleep every night for 20 months.  What a difference mothering experience and a different personality makes.  Sierra was always an easier child.  She sleeps through the night, she goes to bed easily and immediately every night, she sucks her fingers and clings to a lovey for comfort, never using breastfeeding as a crutch.  About 1 1/2 weeks ago Sierra nursed for the last time.  This was just shy of her being 20 months old, the age her brother was when I forced him to ween.  And while weening wasn't 100% Sierra's idea, she ultimately dropped the one feeding we were doing and moved on all on her own without looking back.  Here's how it went and how I am feeling knowing I'll never nurse a baby again.

Several months ago I was struggling with nursing.  I had been feeling like I really wanted to quit and felt guilty in my thought process because it really was to get my body back and to feel like I was only taking care of me instead of me and someone else by what physically was going into my body.  It's been almost 5 years with pregnancies and nursing that I have not taken cold medication, barely taken a pill for pain and have been concerned about how every antibiotic, every food additive, every everything was affecting my child.  This was compounded by my issues with my Mirena and anxiety (see a previous blog post) and nursing was starting to make me crazy.  And yet, I couldn't let go.  I couldn't push for weening because I'd given my son 20 months and I didn't want to short change my daughter.  I had always been so proud of being an extended breastfeeder and now here I was wanting to quit for selfish reasons.  And yet, the thought of never breastfeeding again, never having that bond with a child for as long as I live, was a hard thing for me to wrap my head around.  I loved nursing both my children for the first year and then some.  I loved the touch, I loved the smiles, the giggles, the intimate time with just the two of us.  This was going to be no more.

And so I gradually cut down nursing to just before bed.  It wasn't the easy transition to once a day it had been with my son because my daughter loved to nurse.  But she did it distractedly.  She was very particular about  how she wanted to nurse and wanted it available, but had the attention span of a flea while actually in the act.  Finally we got down to just night time and I could come home from work without her immediately trying to rip my shirt off.  Then we started nursing in the living room about 20 minutes before bedtime and sometimes I'd take her to bed, sometimes Zack would take her to bed.  Then we started hanging out with our neighbors most Friday nights.  Sierra would go to bed at their houses in the pack and play and I wouldn't nurse before bed there, just lay her down, and she was content.  By the next night she would be desperate, tearing at my top by 6 pm.  Then, one weekend she didn't want to nurse the next night.  I was tempted to offer, but made the decision that I'd let this be it.  We'd go several days and see if she initiated nursing.  She didn't.  A week passed, nothing.  I began by mourning the loss, but now, 1 1/2 weeks out, I am beginning to feel a sense of relief.

I gave my children each 20 months of nursing, that's nothing to be ashamed of.  I swore I'd do two years so I feel I've failed myself, but when I think about it, this is the best thing for me as a mom because I am not resentful.  I feel like I'm getting my body back and a sense of control over myself alone that I've needed.  It's hard to be a mom, being pulled in every direction, judged by everyone and always questioning the choices you make.  I'm starting to finally feel like life may start to become easier again now that I have a toddler and an almost 4 year old and I think this is a great time to try and spend more time taking care of me instead of everyone else.  I'll be a better mom for it in the long run and that's more important, I think, than nursing once a day for the next 4 months just to hit that magical 2 year mark I was shooting for.  The freedom alone of knowing I don't have to be home to nurse (even if I don't have anywhere to go) is a huge weight off my shoulders.

So here's to a bond that I'll never regret and will never forget.  Here's to giving my children the best start I could.  And here's to celebrating one of the many last times I will have with my children as they grow.  We often celebrate the firsts and forget about the lasts.  The are just as important and often much more poignant.

Remember 2012

"Much suffering, much unhappiness arises when you take each thought that comes into your head for the truth." 

~Eckhart Tolle

When I read that quote above on the last day of 2012 I thought no one had ever so succinctly stated exactly what my entire year was about.  Negative thoughts invaded my body and soul this entire year.  Panic attacks were a regular occurrence.  Every day I crawled out of bed with a feeling of dread of how I would feel that day.  Would my heart be pounding?  Would my stomach hurt?  Would I feel dizzy?  Would I be able to concentrate?  Would I be able to control my anger?  Would I cry? I felt weak and like a failure.  Why had anxiety again taken over my life?  Every thought was worst case scenario, from my kid's health, to my health, to why I hadn't received a text message reply from my husband, to why a stranger would look at me a certain way.  My thoughts were my reality and my reality was quickly becoming unbearable.  

It came to a head in November, starting when Sierra fell down the stairs and had to go to the ER with a leg injury.  I was at an all time low, feeling like a failure as a parent and scared for my baby.  Shortly thereafter I started having abdominal pains that weren't getting better and the anxiety attacks were getting so bad I had no appetite and at times could barely swallow food because my throat felt like it was closing up.  I began to suspect that the hormones from my Mirena IUD that I'd had put in after Sierra was born as my birth control could be contributing to my negative thoughts and emotions.  I started doing some research and found message board after message board of women who had symptoms spot on to mine.  I immediately made an appointment with my midwife to have it removed and an appointment with my doctor to have my stomach issues looked into.  I had expected things to get initially worse after it was removed after reading many womens' accounts of withdrawal symptoms, but coupled with an abnormal abdominal ultrasound and a followup CT scan to check for a possible problem with my pancreas I was a wreck.  I couldn't sleep and every moment of my day and night was filled with thoughts of what could possibly be wrong with me.  Everything that had had simple explanations in my mind earlier in the year, weight loss, pain, illnesses, became a huge mesh of symptoms that had to mean a dire diagnosis.  A bit of relief was felt when my CT scan came back normal, but I continued to carry around negative thoughts that something was wrong.  

Then I began to listen to those around me who said all my symptoms were anxiety related.  Most of my mysterious symptoms could be explained by anxiety attacks.  As the hormone withdrawal cleared my mind cleared a bit and I was able to start to take charge of my physical and mental health.  I realized my diet had been poor and as a result my electrolytes may have been out of whack so I began taking a multivitamin, probiotics, eating better, and drinking more water and reintroducing yogurt to my diet after not eating dairy for a year and a half.  Almost immediately my stomach pain decreased, the leg cramps decreased and I almost started to feel "normal" again.  I'm still a little nervous that something may be wrong with my health, but it's not that all consuming force that it was for about 2 months.  

2013 will be a better year.  I am totally committed to it.  I'm committed to taking care of me so that I can take care of others.  I have felt for the last year I have been failing at every aspect of my life; wife, mother, physical therapist, homemaker, friend.  I've neglected all my relationships because of feeling too overwhelmed to do anything about any of them.  I've neglected myself, treating my body poorly, my mind worse and not taking the time to do the things I enjoy that make me a happy me.  I've spent an entire year living in my head in a scenario of what ifs.  I blogged last year that I wouldn't make any more resolutions, instead making a list of aspirations.  I don't think I was able to do any of those things that I had set out to do.  This year I will feed on my strengths, I will make a to do list.  I've always loved lists and am a more accomplished person with them.  So for 2013 I will make a large to do list and smile broadly every time I get to cross something off.  

There were some amazing things that happened in 2012 that did make me smile.  The biggest was watching the relationship grow between my kids.  They are so amazing and I now have two little people, no babies anymore.  They are my purpose and the main reason that I want to make my life better, so I'll be a better mom.  We went to Louisiana for Mardi Gras and Florida in November, which were both great trips and great breaks from reality.  I spent some time getting to know some great ladies better who supported me though thick and thin and gave me an outlet when I felt like I had no one else to talk to.  I continue to have the best best friend on the planet and even though we are a 1000 miles apart a phone call can make me feel like she's right here with me.  I have a husband who has managed to stick by me through my struggles and is hopeful that this coming year will make this past year just a distant memory and we can move forward together happier and heading towards our goals together.  Happy 2013.  

"Desire is the starting point of all achievement, not a hope, not a wish, but a keen pulsating desire which transcends everything." 

~Napoleon Hill

Siblings and Individuals

I haven't had a chance to blog in a very long time.  Being a mother some things get pushed to the side, but today it was my children that inspired me to return to the blog.  Having a sibling I understand that two people born of the same parents can have totally different interests and personalities.  My sister and I are 15 months apart and my husband and his brother are 14 months apart so you'd think that being that close in age would almost be akin to being twins, who often have a lot of the same interests.  However, that couldn't be farther from the truth for either of us.  While we have a lot in common with our siblings as adults, as children we both had totally different interests and groups of friends.  As my children are getting older it is becoming very apparent that they have two totally different personalities and passions too.

From the time Peyton could sit up he was all about the throw.  He could throw a ball across the room by a year.  He walked before a year, did a forward roll and jumped way before he should've been able to developmentally but has never shown much interest in the fine motor.  There is very little artwork from him before 2 years old.  He just didn't want to sit still long enough to color.  Puzzles were a mystery to him until he was almost 3 years old, he just didn't get the what he was supposed to do.  He loves baseball, football, soccer, dancing, gymnastics, riding his bike, and hiking, but still isn't much of a climber on the playground, needing help unless the route is really obvious.

Then there is Sierra.  At 14 months she isn't walking except a couple of steps, but loves to engage in activities standing up that take concentration and time.  So no walking, but climbing, my God can that child climb.  She's a little monkey.  She loves to be up high.  About a month ago I put a crayon in her hand for the first time and she has been obsessed with coloring ever since.  And blocks, puzzles, and stacking tasks are some of her favorite things and things that Peyton just didn't catch on to until much later.  And music...wow, does she love music, dancing to it, making it, and listening to it.

Emotionally they are seeming to be quite different as well.  Peyton was never a cuddler really and he could never self sooth and never attached to a lovey.  He woke 3+ times a night for almost 2 years to nurse for comfort.  Sierra loves to cuddle, has sucked her fingers from practically birth to self sooth and has a bear that she loves to cuddle with in bed.  She sleeps most nights, except when teething or sick, until 4 or 5 in the morning before waking up to be nursed back to sleep.  Sierra seems to be more sensitive to the emotions of those around her too and she gets very upset if you tell her no.

It'll be very interesting to see as they get older what they gravitate towards and how different they are.  I hope we give them good values, ample opportunities to explore and the confidence to pursue their dreams so that they can be happy, healthy adults.  For right now I'm just enjoying observing them every day.

Mt Bierstadt, Our First 14er

When we moved to Colorado I expected to climb a 14er within the first year.  We quickly purchased our guide and journal to the Colorado 14ers, but somehow it never happened.  There was that time that we attempted Grays and Torreys, but rain and a 4 wheel drive road with us in the Prius thwarted that attempt.  Then kids came.  So this year, when my mom was in town in July, I jumped on the opportunity to get away sans kids.  Zack went along with the idea, but I'm not sure he was as excited as me.  I felt like this was something I HAD to do.  I want to hike Colorado summits.  The Rocky Mountains call me to them making me more myself than I ever am at my home in the Denver burbs.  My husband will agree that I am a totally different person in the mountains, but getting there has been difficult in the past 4 years.  I have been on one difficult hike in the mountains since starting to have kids.  It was a steep beautiful hike near Breckenridge past a waterfall to a high alpine lake.  Other than that I have been limited to short "strolls" that can hardly be called hiking.  Kids almost made me change my mind today.  After my teething one year old kept me up a large majority of the night and when my alarm went off at 4 am and she was crying yet again I seriously considered just saying "screw it."  Zack said it was up to me to decide and after just a split second of contemplation I said that I knew I'd completely regret it if we didn't go.  So we brewed some coffee and off we went...here's a rundown of the adventure.

It's pitch black, the moon and stars bright.  After nursing the baby she's back to sleep and we've decided to follow through with our plan to hike up Mt. Bierstadt, an "easy" Colorado 14er at 14060 feet above sea level.  We get dressed, make coffee, put our packed day packs and jackets in the car.  It seems strange packing both a fleece and a rain jacket with how warm and clear it is at our house at just over 5500 feet of elevation.  Our hike is only an hour and a half away, but our experience living in Colorado is this, altitude is everything when it comes to temperature and we will be starting on a trail at 11,669 feet at approximately 6:30 in the morning.  Our experience also tells us that rain can crop up any time in the mountains, so always be prepared.  Rain, actually thunder storms, are the reason for our early start.  We hope to beat the nearly daily high altitude afternoon storms.  We also hope to beat the crowds.  With only an elevation gain of 2391 feet (disputable based on source because you descend before ascending) over a little over 3 miles and no technical skills required in the summer it is touted as one of Colorado's easiest 14ers and hence, one of the most crowded.  We make our way to Grant, CO to ascend Guanella Pass where the parking area resides.  First we stop for breakfast at the Cutthroat Cafe in Bailey, a local greasy spoon where we've eaten before after camping in the area.  The three old locals who are the only other ones in the restaurant this early ask us what we could possibly be doing up this early.  We say we're going up to Bierstadt.  What's going on up there, they reply.  Just hiking, we say...they think we're nuts.  Why do we do it?  To quote Gregory Mallory, famous mountaineer who disappeared on Mt. Everest "because it's there."  For me there is an uncontrollable draw to climb a mountain, to see what's around the next bend, over the next hill.  It's in me and when the desire is not satiated, I am not me.

We leave the greasy spoon, climb the pass, passing quiet campsites full of campers who have not yet emerged from there nylon cocoons.  As we park the sun is just coming over the mountain and the full lower parking area shows that the upcoming beautiful day is attracting many hikers to the mountain.  Those with the same desire to climb "because it's there" as me.  We are here.  I can't remember ever having butterflies in my stomach before a hike, but I do.  I've waited so long to hike a 14er I'm afraid of failure.  I'm afraid of weather moving in, ending my attempt like the last time.  I hear another hiker in the parking lot say "a beautiful day to hike a 14er."  It sure is.  Nerves quickly give way to an energized electricity in my body.  The views are breathtaking.  Breathtaking becomes my internal mantra.  I will repeat it to myself over and over as we climb.  But first, we descend.  Descending is not good when your ultimate goal is to go up.  We cross a creek and begin our ascent.

I stupidly allow myself to believe this will be easy.  The initial ascent as we head into the willows is gentle, hard packed, filled with views of wildflowers and ponds.  The mountain looms above us, rocky, but seemingly "not that far."  Not that far because the hike descriptions I'd read say 3 miles with 2600 feet of elevation gain.  "Sea level is for sissies," I say to myself, the motto for the Bolder Boulder, a 10K we've done several times since moving here.  The addition of altitude means a decrease in oxygen.  This entire hike falls within the high altitude to extremely high altitude range, which can lead to hypoxia if you aren't used to it.  3 miles, I could do that in my sleep.  2600 feet of elevation gain, no problem.  Put it above 11,000 feet and it's a challenge.  And then, the challenge began.  As we got above treeline, the willows giving way to alpine flowers, rocks and gravel, we suddenly began to ascend, steeply.  A trail runner, common in Colorado no matter where you are or how hard the trail, blows by me.  A part of me is in awe another part wants to yell, "show off" in his wake.  Regardless of the altitude and the steepness of the trail I feel great.  I decided to bring my hiking poles and couldn't be happier.  If I'd been without my legs would've been taking all the effort and I don't think I'd be feeling as good.  Zack drags behind.  He tells me later that his heart was pounding with the steepness and the altitude.  This is how we are, I'm the climber, he's the descender.  He can fly down a mountain without a loss of footing like a mountain goat, whereas I 'm constantly falling on my butt, but I can trudge uphill like a champ.  I debate waiting for him, wondering if the negative thoughts in his head, which are obvious even from a distance, will just make him mad.  I decide that we should continue to ascend with our own internal dialogues, waiting occasionally, but mostly just concerning myself with getting to the top, taking pictures and marveling at the amazing views around me.

I watch the people around me.  All ages, all walks of life, all kinds of clothing, footwear and supplies.  It's intermittently cold and hot and I grow tired of zipping, unzipping, taking my jacket off and putting it on.  The sun goes in and out and the wind picks up and dies down.  We finally get to a point where we are ascending steeply, mostly on boulders with water running down the trail, seemingly from some ground seeps, even at this elevation.  Rest breaks come more often.  The hikers, once reminiscent of ants marching back to their mound start to splinter as people need more and more breaks and are gasping for air.  I continue to feel amazing and proud.  John Denver's "I am the Eagle" is going through my head, which is strange since my usual mountain playlist is more along the lines of Rocky Mountain High.  Instead I feel strong.  I feel like I am the eagle, I'm channeling the strength, the beauty, I'm rising above most other humans all across the country as I walk up, up, up.  My internal dialogue is positive, tired but motivated, feeling more full of life than I've been in a very long time.

Suddenly we come to a rocky ridge.  It's only a slight ascent and leads to a massive cairn that marks the beginning of the end.  Zack has caught up and we look at the home stretch.  It's a steep boulder field that ascends to the summit.  We're almost there.  We trudge ahead.  It's surprisingly easy compared to what we've just been through.  We pick our way from cairn to cairn using hands and feet to climb up and finally, we're there.  I choke up, don't cry, but am overwhelmed by the realization that I've finally done it.  I've finally hiked above 14000 feet.  I am looking down on Colorado.  Behind us Mt. Evans, another 14er, looms about 200 feet higher with a road all the way to the top.  Those that have driven to the top won't know what I feel now, the sense of accomplishment of having walked this high.  I can't wipe the smile off my face.  This is me.  Yes I have kids now, but I need this to be whole.  We take pictures, eat a snack.  We've ascended in about 2 hours.

Descents are my downfall.  My muscles fatigue, I have a tendency to fall.  I repeatedly thank myself for thinking to bring the poles.  Meanwhile I'm practically running to keep up with Zack.  Descending we can talk about our experience because we can breathe.  Zack says even though the "monkeys were talking" on the way up, it was worth it once at the top.  We take a break about half way down since my legs have turned to jello.  The thing about this hike is that the summit is in view the entire way up and the parking lot is in view the entire way down.  That can be both encouraging and disheartening.  We finally get to the last part of the trail, the part we had to descend before ascending, so it is uphill.  It surprisingly doesn't feel that bad.

We've done it.  I now have a renewed desire to summit hike.  We stop on the way home at a mountain hole in the wall restaurant/biker bar to have lunch.  It feels so appropriate.  A beer after Bierstadt.  Simpler life.  That's what I strive for.  I feel a sense again that I'm meant to long trail hike.  The Colorado Trail, the Appalachian Trail...something.  Now that we have kids it probably won't happen for a while, but I don't feel anymore like the dream is dead.  It's alive in me.  I'm alive.  I'm still capable.  It took nearly 7 years a marriage and 2 children later, but I've still got it and I still want it.

Ruminations on me

I am me.  I am a crunchy granola girl who hugs trees.  I gave birth to two gorgeous babies with a midwife in the water and watched them immediately recognize me as "Mama" and take hold of my heart (and breast) and not let go.  I buy organic food and I have a garden that fails miserably every summer and yet every summer I try.  I dream of being a nomad and living off the land.  I had an awful relationship with my deceased, alcoholic father, I have a wonderful relationship with my mother, and I have a wonderful husband who I am muddling through this complicated life with.  I dream, BIG.  I'm internal, often forgoing what I want due to not ever expressing it to anyone but myself.  I LOVE my kids, more than life.  I both hate myself and love myself in the same breath.  I yearn to be outdoors, all the time.  I enjoy my daily interactions with my patients and learning everything there is to know about them.  I'm not happy and I'm joyous.  I'm complicated.  That is me.  Take me as I am.