Happy Birthday Leah!

This girl, let me tell you....this girl rocks my world.





And today she's TWO!!! I can't even believe how fast it's gone. But wow, I just love her so stinkin much. Every day, I'm surprised by my urge to smother her chubby cheeks and dimpled hands in kisses.

She has such an independent spirit. (Hello? Where did she get that from???) She is such a good little helper and always wants to be in on the action. But if she wants something, you will know about it. She is really good at telling us no. (A little defiance? Where did this come from?) She wants to do everything Bennett does and will often beat him up to prove the point. Just a little bit of a bully streak in her at times. (Hey, don't point at me!) She loves having her hair done. Every day she stands in front of the mirror and holds whatever bow she has picked out and hands it to me when I'm ready. And she doesn't like to leave the house without a bow in her hair. (Again, where did she get that from? No, seriously....I really don't get it.) She LOVES her daddy. When Keith gets home from work, she stands at the window and giggles then smothers him in hugs and kisses when he walks in the door. (Okay, I admit, I do the same thing....)

Such a sweet girl and an awesome little lady. Happy Birthday Leah!!

Hurt

This is not a fancy blog set to music, so play along with me and hum John Cash's version of the song Hurt to yourself while reading this.

Again it is about a trail run. Well, a trail run/wade. A trail run/wade/icebreak to be perfectly honest.

After my last effort I had to cross state lines to organize a trail run. 1800 miles away I found people who were willing to put up with my antics and go for a nice little run in central Utah. The trail is 16 miles long. It crosses the San Rafael river 16 times. Not a big deal right? The hurt started when we got out of Dave's truck with the thermometer pegged at 14. Fahrenheit.



The road ends where the river starts. Try that for a little morning wake up. Go from a warm heated truck to 32.01 degree water, Barefoot. Focus on the pain, it was real...



But running the 16 miles through my empire of dirt.. (and rock and water and ice) was well worth the pain.

Thanksgiving

Our Thanksgiving holiday didn't exactly turn out as we had planned.

Actually, our plans were super lame. Since we completely tore apart our kitchen two weekends ago to start the big remodel, we had planned to do nothing other than plumbing, wiring, and maybe roughing in the kitchen cabinets. We planned to hit up some awesome buffet (like maybe Golden Corral or McDonald's) in town for a Thanksgiving feast if everything was going well. Then the phone rang on Tuesday night (while Keith was out macing deer).

It was my dad with the sad news that my grandpa had passed away.

Change of plans. My grandpa is/was one of the greatest influences of my life. I'm so incredibly proud to be his granddaughter. He was a total giant in my life--and I mean that in every sense of the word. He towered over me at nearly 6 and a half feet tall. Huge. His feet were massive and as kids we always laughed when he showed us his shoes. But even more than that, he had the biggest heart and most enormous spirit.

My grandpa was a fighter pilot in 3 wars and had endless stories to tell. He's been all over the world and had such a crazy sense of adventure. In addition to flying airplanes and fighter jets, he also rode motorcycles, skied like a pro (or a cowboy, depending on who you ask), and loved hang-gliding well into retirement. If anyone wonders where I get my sense of adventure, I can point a pretty straight line to my grandpa. He knew I had wanderlust as a kid and always fed my curiosity with stories of flying airplanes to far off places. I always dreamed of working for an airline so I could travel like my grandpa did. Never mind that he did it as a decorated pilot in the military--I didn't think that part of it was in my future. But I did hire pilots in my airline job and I did get to travel like he encouraged me to.

My grandpa retired as a Colonel in the Air National Guard. He was still in his 50's when he retired and his superiors asked him to reconsider. They offered to make him a General instead. But titles didn't matter to him and he had more important things to do. He went on to serve 2 missions for our church and worked in the Salt Lake Temple for 20 years. He also did huge amounts of family history work and wrote out his own life history. I'm telling you, this man was amazing.

So, I absolutely had to be there for the funeral. No question. But finding a last minute flight on the weekend before Thanksgiving? Not really. So on Thursday after Keith wrapped up work, we put the kids in the car and started driving.

In a weird twist of fate, we got a phone call somewhere in Missouri at 2 am from Keith's parents. Keith's grandma had just passed away. So, as it turned out, we were headed home for a double funeral. What are the chances?

THIRTY HOURS later (including an all-night drive shift by Keith) we pulled into Utah and crashed in a spare bedroom at my parents house. Totally exhausting.

As the weekend progressed, we learned that both funerals were going to be held on Monday. My grandpa's in Salt Lake, Keith's grandma's in Provo. I'll just say that it made the day really, really tough.

But I couldn't have missed this. My grandpa's funeral was so awesome. Such great tributes. And the cemetery was incredible. As a retired Colonel, he received full military honors. When we drove into the cemetery, we saw a line of men in uniform standing completely still as we all filed in. I can't even describe how awesome it was to see those men pay such an honor to my grandpa. Carrying his flag draped casket, so carefully folding the flag and presenting it to the family, saluting him, hearing the bugle and the 21-gun salute. All with careful military precision. It was something I will never forget.






I'm so grateful for the legacy of my grandpa. I'm so glad to have witnessed the honor that our country pays to it's great military and especially grateful to have seen that respect paid at the end of a long, full life rather than one cut short in the line of duty.

I had a lot to be thankful for this Thanksgiving. I tried not to think about the 30 hour drive we still had ahead of us to get back home. But even that didn't dampen the day as I enjoyed sweet memories of my grandpa, an unexpected week with family, and a real home cooked Thanksgiving dinner. It turned out way better than we had planned.

Stumbling Around in the Dark

I heard once that "You should do something every day that scares you." This statement was probably coined by a sixth year senior trying to pick up freshman girls at Helaman Halls or something. As someone who is usually not too scared of things, I try not to live by this mantra. I'm sure if I did, my life would be over by now and/or I would have even fewer friends.

I did something tonight that has been on my mind for over a year and yet I have never gotten over the abject terror that comes when I give it more than a casual thought...

I live near the deep dark woods. Winter is really the only time to enjoy them. Summertime here means poison ivy, ticks, chiggers, briars, and copperheads in the woods. Though the neighbors swear the woods are still full of panthers, cougars, black bears, booby-trapped pot plantations, and deranged banjo players, I'm convinced winter is the safest time to be out among the oaks and maples with that soft carpet of fallen leaves. In winter the ground cover dies and the snakes and bugs all go underground. The only real problem is the darkness... I get home from work just after the sun sets... Ever since we got to Kentucky I have toyed with the idea of night trail runs. Sounds like a great idea, come home, put the kids to bed and go glide through the forest.

The logistics of actually going out there is where I get hung up... My neighbor Josh has run some of the trails and he tells me how he always packs heat. Nice little peashooter tucked in a back pocket right next to a power bar is enough courage for him...in the day time. Should I take my pistol? My rifle? An axe? What kind of light source? Panthers? Seriously? If I break an ankle could I get out? The mental map usually goes something like that until I find myself curled up in the comfort of my couch wasting time reading blogs or something. Luckily I had an incident recently that pushed me from my comfortable sofa.

If you have followed this blog you know that Andrea and I have been involved with our local running club. Ever since we have been with this crew of locals there has been a smoldering interest in trying a little trail running. After several requests I organized a group run that would involve 13 miles of single track to a lodge on the edge of a beautiful waterfall with a decent buffet. The trail is scenic as anything and fairly well maintained but not necessarily groomed. I sent emails out and got a few responses from the stronger runners in the group. Every one of these guys and gals had at least a half marathon under the belt in the past month with respectable times. To be honest I was really worried about keeping up with this crew. I gave us plenty of time with an average 12 minute mile to cover the distance to the lodge with a nice time buffer before darkness. The weather was going to be fantastic; High 60's and sunny! Most of the group ran a charity 5K that morning and were excited to hit the trail around 2 PM.

OK, so while doing the vehicle shuttle for the trip back to the trail head I was a little late but I don't think the ten minutes of daylight that I cost the ill fated group really made the difference...

We had finished our warm-up routines and were just headed out of the parking lot when another club member (who had not ever run 13 miles on the road let alone dirt) arrived with her 11 year old son in tow. She said that he really wanted to come along and that she could not talk him out of it. I exchanged a few worried glances with some of the other runners but as our motto is "A place for every pace," nobody, myself included had the sense to say, this might not be the day to try to set a personal distance record. Soon enough we learned that there is a place for every pace even if that place is shivering in the pitch darkness rather than enjoying a nice quiet evening at the DuPont lodge dining room.

We headed out enjoying the fine afternoon with golden sunlight filtering through the last leaves that were still hanging in the trees. Each step was through 3 inches of a crunchy root and rock hiding leaf carpet. It was magic. I was so proud of myself for pulling this off. After we all enjoyed the next few hours of this beautiful day we would be planning our next adventure over a well deserved meal. I looked back at the string of 8 runners as we headed up the first hill to realize that my pace was a little fast. A few of the group was walking up the first small hill. Hmmmm. Well I hoped that they would soon get into the rhythm and pick up the pace. Of course it never happened. We got slower and slower.

At mile 3, our tech guy who runs fast marathons and loves stats runs up to inform me that per his GPS watch we have averaged 18 minute miles. He is bored with the pace and wants us to pick it up. I agree that we need go faster, not because I'm bored but that at mile three our extra time cushion of daylight is now gone. I ask the mom/kid duo if they can pick up the pace. They assure me that they can go faster and decline my offer for them to just go back to the parking lot. I tell the guns up front to kick it up a few notches. They go a little faster...the slow duo start struggling...another runner starts limping with IT band pain. Yikes! We are now doing 15-16 minutes miles, further from the car, nowhere near the lodge, nobody has a light, extra food or more than a T-shirt for warmth. I start doing the math, re-doing the math and starting to regret being an inclusionist. Did I mention that I was the only one of this group to run this trail before? That few had ever run on dirt before? I steamed all the options in my head before deciding on a course of action.

There is a branch trail that I had seen on a map that goes about 2 miles up a side canyon before intersecting a forestry road. Never mind that I had never been on this trail. I would take the now walking wounded up the trail and the fast crew would run to the lodge, then drive around and pick us up. It really was the only option that did not involve all of us out in the cold dark night. I relayed my plan to the fast runners and sent them off to what I hoped was a quick finish as there was more than one fast runner with some pent-up frustration at having to trudge along at minimal speed.

My group on the other hand, was stumbling around, led by me trying to find the side trail. We crossed the creek several times, blundered through rhododendrons, climbed a few cliffs, chased floating shoes down stream, and got generally soaked in freezing November creek water before finally locating the right path. It then took us the remaining two hours of daylight to go the two miles to the road. The path followed a meandering stream past waterfalls, big cliff overhangs, and old growth timber and I might have enjoyed it had not the responsibility for an impending disaster weighed heavily on my mind.

I kept doing the numbers, if they did a 12 minute mile, they will pick us up at...or if they did a 10 minute mile, they will pick us up at...OK worst case scenario, 15 minute mile... We made it to the road and my friend with the IT band pain was really suffering. I gave her the choice. It was now getting dark and colder. We could stop walking to alleviate her leg pain and suffer for a half hour or so of cold before our ride arrived. She was a trooper and decided to grit it out and keep walking. I'm sure that her tank top and running shorts helped encourage her to keep moving. My best calculation was that we would only have to walk the road for about 35 minutes tops. After two hours of trudging down the road through pitch darkness sometimes with the now exhausted 11 year old on my shoulders, I started to get worried. Something must have gone wrong with the fast group.

The third car to pass us in two and a half hours did not look too scary and the driver was not playing a banjo so we convinced him to give us a ride to the lodge. I was not prepared for the scene that awaited me in the foyer. Angry wives, husbands, and families that I had forgotten were going to be waiting at the lodge poured out of the front door and demanded an immediate explanation for the lateness of the hour. To my absolute horror they also informed me that search and rescue from two counties were on their way to both trail heads to begin the search for survivors. In my efforts to get my walking wounded out of the woods and keep their spirits up I had completely forgotten that there might be worried families involved. My wife was on the front row of a Broadway theater in Manhattan watching "Wicked" at this exact moment so I had not prepared myself for this twist in the plot.

The "fast" runners had never made it out of the woods. I was stunned. If any one should have made it, it was them. They had no lights, food, or warm clothes and had now been in the bottom of a pitch black gorge for about two and a half hours. Now I joined Team Worry and had the fun of giving a report to the ranger dispatch about the last known whereabouts of the missing runners. It was nice to be able to cross my name and the names of the people I brought up the side canyon off of the official "missing Persons" roster. Well since search and rescue was already out there, there was nothing left for me to do but mind the buffet and soak up some of the heat by the massive stone fireplace.

They finally came in some time later much to every ones relief, just after the buffet closed for the night. They had navigated about two miles by indiglow watch light and were found by the search and rescue party about a mile from the trail head. A sore finger, that later turned out to be broken, was all the damage they had to show for their time in the darkness. Luckily the publisher for the local paper was among the formerly missing so at least the story would not hit the news. They said that the trail was just too technical and that because the leaves covered all the obstacles they could not maintain the needed 12 minute miles to get out of the woods before dark. Many things were discussed in the lodge and on the shuttle back to where we started but future trail running plans were not among them.

I really felt bad to have put my friends in a position where they needed to be rescued. I agonized for days over what I could have done differently and how I would plan future trail runs. I realized that perhaps trail running alone is actually safer. The biggest danger was never in the woods, it was facing the angry families and friends that I felt I had let down.

I knew I had to get past the panthers and banjo players and go out into the woods alone to at least redeem myself from my own internal torment. After a bad enough day at work I came home and informed Andrea that tonight was the night. I changed from my work clothes straight into my running clothes. I set out my gear. We had dinner and I put the kids to bed. I almost backed out. It was raining, pitch dark, and cold. Had there really been a black panther hit on the freeway last year not 5 miles from here? Ridiculous! I swallowed hard and told Andrea my plan and that she should not worry for at least two hours.

I decided not to take a gun. I could never live down the headline "Podiatrist Shoots Self in Foot" if the wind happened to rustle the leaves wrong. I did take some pepper spray that had worked wonders on some neighborhood dogs recently. I took a new watch that records time/pace/heart rate as you run. I took a blinking red LED light that I put on a belt so that panthers would at least not confuse me with prey as they followed me through the woods. I figured that if the banjo guy tried to follow me I could clip the belt to a tree and run off in another direction to get him off my trail. I took a very bright headlamp that is very effective at picking up the reflective eyes of animals that are watching you in the dark. I had proved its use for this purpose the night I directed pepper spray right into those angry glowing orbs of the poor neighborhood dogs.

The run starts at a cemetery. People should really not put Mylar/foil reflective flowers anywhere someone might be trying to get their nerve up to do something stupid. I would have been creeped out enough without them. I got moving and wet leaves on top of slick sandstone were much easier to handle than the mental strain of controlling the raw terror that kept threatening to rise. I was about 2 miles into the run when I maced my first deer. I probably didn't hit it but anything with eyes was going to get a jet of liquid cayenne pepper as fast as my finger (which never left the trigger for the entire run) could hit the button. I maced another herd a mile or so later. A weasel or ferret or some other poor creature also was attacked by a strange apparition that appeared in the rainy night. I'm sure he preferred banjo music to what I gave him. I was never attacked, eaten, bushwhacked in a pot plantation, or even told I had a pretty mouth the entire time. I made it back to the car after 5.3 miles and only fell down once. It was during one of the many times I quickly turned around in a attempt to catch the panther about to pounce and stumbled on a rock.

With my new watch I am able to download all of the data from my runs to my computer to get a visual readout of the workout. It lets me graph my heart rate and speed and things. (Hey, I did get a four year degree in exercise physiology so leave me alone on this one!) The most interesting part was you could not only look at how my heart rate responded to the hills and speed as expected, but my maximum heart rate for the entire run was right at about mile 2. The pace indicator showed that I was actually stopped at the time. Stopped to fire pepper spray where the deer had so recently been resting peacefully. It again jumped where I attacked my next herd of deer. The pace chart, to my shame, also showed the times I stopped in my tracks to turn around to try to glimpse the fangs of the panther that I was certain was in mid pounce.

So the truth is that I am the most dangerous thing in the woods. I pity the poor creatures curious enough to look at me and my can of mace in the dark or go on one of my well planned trail runs. I have no intentions of changing my shoot-first-decide-if-you-are-a-deer-later policy but you all should change your "Hey-that-sounds-like-fun-I want-to-go" policy. I also have no intentions of doing something that scares me every day...but if I could get the stones to go running terrified through the woods blasting innocent woodland creatures with mace at night....that would truly be a whole new level!!!

Superheros

Halloween was pretty awesome at our house.

First thing, Superman showed up for breakfast. I mean, really, this guy is too cool. He's pretty much a normal guy but he can fly and crush cars with his bare hands and stuff. But he just eats cereal for breakfast.



Spiderman made an appearance a while later. Seriously, that guy has moves.



Then catwoman joined us. Talk about some cat attitude. Feisty.


Superman and Wonderwoman. Just out to, you know, save the world and stuff.


Fighting evil is such a tough job. But saving the world is pretty much what we do.


Really? Have you ever seen cuter superheros? And they come with candy to boot!

Pumpkin Patch

Since it's Halloween, I'll post some pictures of a recent apple farm/pumpkin patch adventure. But stay tuned for pictures of Halloween costumes. Be warned...there's spandex involved.....









HAPPY HALLOWEEN!!!

Speaking of Scrawlins in the Dirt....

I was looking at pictures on my computer today and realized that I forgot to share these beauties from a climbing trip to the Red River Gorge a few weeks ago.

Our poor kids get dragged around on some wacky adventures. Hopefully someday they'll appreciate it....

Once we got to the crag, it quickly went downhill. The base was super fine dirt. Kinda like moon dust where it would make a mushroom cloud with every step. It was just gross and so dirty.

You think they look dirty? Sadly, this isn't even dirty yet.

Why am I making this face? Keith, don't let me do this again. Or at least, please don't take a picture of it, okay? At least it proves that I was acknowledging the dirt fest...not that I did anything about it. Too busy putting on my climbing shoes.

It's getting dirtier.


Then they began swimming in the dirt....

And it evolved into making full on dirt angels.



DIRTY! Notice that red thing in her diaper? Yeah, that's a starburst. She was saving it for later. She really wanted a pocket. WHERE ARE HER PARENTS?!?

Look at that hand! Disgusting.
And the aftertaste is even worse....

But at least the climbing was good. :)

Twelve

Years, that is.

It's a long time.

A really long fun time.

Twelve years ago, I got married.

And it's still a party every day.



Or in Haiku form:



Twelve is a long time
I got married very young
Keith is a rock star

I love Philly

It was so great being back in Philly last week! Having spent 8 years of my life there, it was weird to be back--but at the same time, it was like putting on my favorite pair of comfortable, perfectly worn in jeans. There's just something familiar about that place that I will always love. I felt like I was home.

But I wasn't.

I drove past my old house and it felt so strange that I couldn't just park and walk in. It was also weird that the yard was perfectly manicured with ornamental grasses and all sorts of garden decor. Let's be honest, there were always more weeds than flowers when I lived there.

Keith will be glad to never set foot back in Philly. He said he felt sorry for me going back. :)

But, really there's so much to love about Philly.

The second after I got off the airplane, I had one mission: A proper hoagie. Folks, they just don't happen like this anywhere else. Sometimes you just gotta have a Wawa.


This is what I'm talking about! A hot roast beef hoagie. Forget cheesesteaks. This is where it's at. Oh. My. Goodness. Is your mouth watering? I'm dying right now wishing I had another one of these. I miss Wawa really bad right about now.


Next order of business: Rita's.


Key lime pie water ice.

But I would have given my right arm for a green apple. Or coconut cream. Help me now!

My other love: Trader Joe's.

People, if you live in a town with a TJ's and you don't go pretty much every day, you are MISSING OUT!!! Ok, slight exaggeration. Only slight, though. This is the best grocery store. And cheap, too. Since my suitcase was loaded with gifts on my way to Philly, I decided that I couldn't go home with it empty. So I filled it back up with all my favs: Salsa verde, Jo-Jo's, Maple cookies, peanut butter cups, nuts, etc. I could have brought home actual FOOD you know, but what's the fun in that when you are on vacation???

Next cool thing about Philly: History. I got to be a complete tourist this time and take my sis, Shannon, and her hubby, Dave, around downtown. The liberty bell is cool and all but I really love Independence Hall.


This is especially mind-blowing: to be in the very room where the Declaration of Independance and The Constitution were written. To see the very chair that George Washington sat in during that amazing gathering of minds. History literally was written here.


And how could you not love a town where Ben Franklin roams the streets?


Another favorite: Reading Terminal Market. Gosh, I love this place. There is SO MUCH good food in there. The chocolate dipped cookies? Are you kidding me? And the hot apple dumplings smothered in heavy cream from the Amish stand? Have MERCY!!!

There's just so much goodness at Reading Terminal, it's almost too much to take in. We ate ourselves to the gills. But Shannon and Dave's great souveniers? A quart of amish pickles, beef jerky, and black licorice. Huh???

Elfreth's Alley. Love it. So charming.


Love Park. A classic.


And topping off a day in the city, dinner at the swanky Continental (lobster mac and cheese--are you kidding me??? So good, it's unreal).

And a ridiculous amount of chocolate for dessert at Naked.



So there you have it. My ode to Philly. It was such a good time. To all my Philly friends: please enjoy some of that Philly goodness for me! Love you!