Category Archives: Family Footprints

Gravel Biking over Snoqualmie Pass

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I didn’t really know what I was getting into. I’d never ridden a gravel bike before, nor biked long distance on a gravel trail. But how hard could it be? The answer – a whole lot more work than riding smooth road surfaces!

After conquering the San Juan Islands by bicycle over the last three years, my son Erik proposed we ride the Palouse to Cascades State Park Trail (PtoC) from Ellensburg WA back to his house in North Bend. It would take us up and over Snoqualmie Pass, but being a rails to trails path, the grade is 1-3%, very doable. I was all in!

The best decision I made was to rent a proper gavel bike. Erik found a shop that had bikes with straight handlebars, another critical element to being comfortable riding the bike. Erik made do with his heavier mountain bike. A nod to his youth!

The plan was to ride the 85 miles in two days, staying overnight at Snoqualmie Pass. That meant that day one would be 57 miles all uphill, day two 28 miles all down. After being dropped off in Ellensburg, we set out on a cool but bright sunny day. Confident and eager.

That far out from the pass, we were in farmland, surrounded by open fields that did nothing to stop the headwind we hadn’t noticed. It made sense when we saw the wind farms on the hillsides. Still bubbling with excitement, I forged ahead only to find the gravel a bit of a “challenge.” I bounced around and slid in the loose patches and found my shoulders and arms tightening as I did my best to navigate the terrain. My teeth were on edge as I wondered if this was such a wise choice after all. But I mustered on. As did Erik, who had the added burden of all our extra layers, snacks and overnight clothes in a large pack on his back.

When the foothills began to rise around us, they provided some protection from the wind and miraculously the gravel surface improved at the same time. Between that and getting a better feel for gravel biking, things were looking up! The scenery was a great distraction and became more picturesque the farther we went.

We hit a patch of really good biking surface, more packed dirt than gravel. We took advantage of that to make tracks and get as many miles under our belts as we could!  Pressing on and on I began to lag and feel a bit spent – Erik too.  That’s the only time it felt monotonous and like the trip was going to last forever.  The end seemed impossibly far away as we were not even half-way to the pass yet.

Reaching Cle Elum we concurred that it was time to stop for lunch. Settling into two cozy rocking chairs on the deck of a coffee shop we gratefully consumed the sandwiches and fruit we’d brought, supplemented by a trail bar from the shop. The well-timed stop and sustenance replenished our energy and spirits as we returned to the trail.

The scenery only improved from there. We passed under tall deciduous trees, rolling over colorful leaves on the trail. In the Easton area there were tall pine trees lining the trail, which was then covered in orange pine needles.  Rolling through Lake Easton State Park, the lake was to our right, glistening in the sunlight. 

We passed through four short railroad tunnels that day. They were fairly short, and none were lit. We attempted the first without our headlamps. Seeing the light from the other end we didn’t think we’d need them, but that hid the deep darkness in the middle. I panicked, tensed up and slid in the gravel, my first slow fall of the trip. No harm done, but it did teach us to use our headlamps in the remaining tunnels!

By late afternoon it became clear that it was going to be a long day. We would be lucky to finish by 7pm. Just about then it began to mist, and we donned our rain jackets and better gloves or mitts for the dropping temps. It soon became serious business to reach the finish, and between the diminishing light and our focus on the destination we took no more pictures! After passing Cabin Creek, where Erik trains on his cross-country skis, I recognized Keechelus Lake. The trail there is groomed for skiing in the winter, and I’d skied that stretch a few years back. The best part was that we were nearing our destination at the end of the lake.

Our final two miles were the off-trail. On the elevation graph of our route, it appeared to be almost straight up as we rode up the frontage road to the ski motel. But cycling on real pavement turned out to be a breeze! We powered up that road in the pitch dark, thankful for the wide shoulders and Erik’s powerful headlamp. Despite temps in the 30s that numbed our hands and feet, I was a hot sweaty mess by the time the Summit Inn sign loomed out of the darkness. We cheered and eagerly dismounted at 7:20pm! Quick hot showers and dinner at the restaurant across the street were welcome comforts before we both crashed for the night.

Day two dawned foggy and 33 degrees at the pass. We lingered over a delicious marketplace breakfast to let it clear, then froze as we whizzed down the road back to the trail.

Once back on the PtoC, we came to the famed 2-mile long unlit tunnel. It was eerie to cycle through the darkness for that distance, but we were very surprised to be able to see the “light at the end of the tunnel” from almost the beginning!

Out the other side, we quickly learned that it was a much more popular section of trail. While we’d seen only a handful of other cyclists and hikers the day before, we found numerous people on the trail including some rock climbers immediately adjacent to the trail. The scenery held more mountain views, and perhaps due to its traffic the trail surface seemed smoother. Going downhill meant we weren’t generating as much heat, so we remained bundled up for the duration. But it had its advantages too, our bodies appreciating the reprieve after the long miles the day before! And knowing we had a shorter distance, we were able to relax and enjoy our surroundings.

We came to a detour where the land had completely collapsed, caving in the trail. It was hard to see how they were ever going to be able to fix it, and some enterprising biking clubs had chipped in funds and labor to build a narrow side detour through the woods in order to reopen that section of trail.

Reaching Rattlesnake Lake we felt like we were on home ground. It was just over six miles from Erik’s house, and we’d both done training runs up to the lake or beyond and back again. Those final familiar miles whizzed by and we were soon back in Erik’s driveway – our trip complete!

With another successful mother/son bike trip on the books, we’ve already begun scheming a destination for next year’s ride. The times we have spent together on our bikes have been so precious and memorable for me, I’m forever grateful to be able to still be out there doing it, and for Erik’s willingness to make it happen. I’m one lucky mom!

From the Tropics to Winter Bliss

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We thought we’d timed it well, spending almost three weeks in Costa Rica to miss winter’s ugly exit. But the weather gods proved us wrong. We arrived home to dry streets and walkways, accumulations of snow only in the shadows. Then winter returned. The sharp contrast initially left me irritated, bracing myself to face strong winds laced with icy snow, a crusty glaze accumulating on my running path. This morning, however, awaking to a winter wonderland with sunshine glinting off at least six inches of pristine fresh snow outside my door, my attitude did a 180!

Abandoning my plans to avoid the outdoors and head to the Y to swim laps, I quickly donned jacket and boots and went out to enjoy this gift – regardless of the date on the calendar. It started out as a walk, going up 7 Bridges Road following snow covered tire tracks. The trees were flocked with snow and it muffled all the surrounding sounds. Breathing in the cool air, my senses heightened, I couldn’t help but relax into the scene.

When it became apparent there was a lot more snow than I realized, I returned home to do what I should have done in the first place – don snowshoes. One of my favorite things to do is plod down the mountain bike trails while they are still pristine, before they groom them. And this was my chance. Crossing over Amity Creek, I headed into the woods.

The narrow trail with trees in close proximity was a far more intimate experience. It reminded me of all the best things about winter. About what it feels like to lose track of time and just put one foot in front of the other. To live in the moment. To appreciate the snow.

I know it’s a fleeting moment. April snow soon turns to slush and we’ll be back to mud season. Which is why it’s so important to embrace it when it happens.

In contrast, our time in Costa Rica was marked by consistently clear and sunny skies, temps ranging from the 70s to mid-90s every day. We relished our time in Las Catalinas, a beautiful pedestrian village on the Pacific coast built around a pristine beach and surrounded by hills cross-crossed by mountain bike trails. Early mornings were best for being active. For Rich that meant birding, and a bounty of beautiful tropical species for him to photograph. For me it was hiking the trails, kayaking and swimming laps in the outdoor pool.

In the intense afternoon heat, Rich retreated to the air conditioned house to process his photos. I often took a book to the beach to read in the shade and run into the waves to cool off.

Evenings were delightful. The soft air kissed my skin as we watched the sunset, ate at beach-front restaurants or had dinner out on the balcony overlooking the ocean. Reading outside in that soft warmth always completed my day.

But the highlight of our stay was sharing that paradise with our daughter Karen, her husband, Matt and their four children. Ranging from age eight to 15, there was something for everyone, and they were game to try it all! We took them on a boat trip with a guide on a river in a nature preserve. They loved seeing crocodiles, monkeys and birds up close!

Karen and Ben rode the mountain bike trails. And the bravest of them went ziplining through the treetops.

But most of all, they enjoyed just hanging around – boogie board and playing at the beach, cooling off in the pools, eating ice cream on a hot afternoon, paddleboarding, reading, chasing the water spouts on the splash pad, playing cards, watching sunsets and just being silly. And I loved every minute with them!

The best things in life are those we share with others. Precious moments. Fond memories. Strengthening bonds. And love.

Chasing the Birkie Warriors

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It’s not every parent who can claim their child rose to royalty, but this year we became part of that elite group! In this case our son Erik, his wife Katie and one-year old daughter Saige along with friend Peter Enz assumed the roles of the Birkie Warriors for the American Birkebeiner long-distance cross-country ski race!

. Painting by Knud Bergslien located at Holmenkollen Ski Museum, Oslo, Norway.

It all started in 1206 when Norway was in the midst of a Civil War. The Birkebeiner Warriors were a rebel faction who protected Prince Haakon, heir to throne. Two of them, Torstein Skevla and Skjervald Skrukka, skied with the prince over treacherous and mountainous terrain from Lillehammer to Trondheim to bring him to safety. He ultimately became King Haakon IV.

This story is commemorated annually by long-distance cross-country ski races, Birkebeiner Rennet in Norway and the American Birkebeiner in Wisconsin.

The American Birkebeiner selects three skiers each year to recreate the Warriors’ journey. They are the mascots of the 5-day Birkie event schedule, culminating with skiing the 53k Classic Race in costume and on wooden skis with either a real baby or a doll.

A year ago, having completed 12 Classic Birkie races (mostly in the elite wave), my son Erik decided he, Katie, Peter and Saige were going to be the next Warriors – Skjervald, Inga and Torstein along with Prince Haakon. It requires submitting an application which highly encourages a video to win the coveted spots. After collecting childhood, high school and adult photos of their skiing lives, Erik complied their video which was convincing enough to win them the honor! You can see the announcement and video here – it’s worth watching!

As the Warriors, they were required to appear at various events from Wednesday through Saturday. Katie’s mom, Betsy, and I were thrilled to be able to stay for the duration at the “ski cabin” where Erik and fellow skiers have gathered for years of Birkie races. We tagged along at the events, and formed a double-grandma team to watch Saige. For our efforts, we were gifted Birkie Volunteer hats – we earned them gladly!

The first task was assembling costumes. They were required to furnish their own wooden skis for the race, which they borrowed from ski collector friends or old family skis. A party ensued to coat the bottoms with pine tar, using a blow torch to melt it in. The Birkie has an assortment of clothing pieces in three big tubs, and after sifting through the jumbled contents they put together convincing Warrior garb.

Their first appearance was at the Barnebirkie race for young children. The little skiers loved having their picture taken with the warriors – it was their first taste of fame. Peter’s Dad, Dick, Betsy and I couldn’t resist doing the same!

The media was also very interested in these celebrities!

On Thursday night we entered team “Haakon’s Entourage” in the Giant Ski race, along with Rich and Dick, all in warrior costumes. With Katie back at the cabin attending to Saige, I was drafted to be Inga for the night. Half the fun was seeing the silly costumes on other teams.

The race involved all six team members strapped onto two giant skis, competing against one other team skiing down Hayward’s Main Street. We happened to be in the last heat, and watching highly proficient teams along with those who stumbled along gave us some perspective on the difficulty and hilarity involved. When our turn came, we started out all right. But as the team unwittingly picked up the pace and lengthened the strides, my short legs could not keep up! It was a strange feeling to have the skis move under my feet, totally out of my control! I felt myself wobble out of control and finally crumbled to the ground about half-way down the course. With help from a friendly volunteer who helped me back up, we managed to make it to the finish line without further incident. We were far from being in contention for the four finalist spots (out of 30 starting teams), but we fully accomplished our goal of having fun!

The big event was on Saturday, skiing the full Birkie course along with thousands of racers. In the early morning hours, I delivered the Warriors to the race course where they lined up at the start line in front of all the other skiers and headed off down the trail! It was far too early for baby Saige to be up, so they skied with a baby doll as a stand-in for Prince Hakkon.

My next stop was at highway OO, midpoint of the race. Meeting up with Betsy and Saige, and our husbands, we eagerly awaited the arrival of the Warriors. They were faring well and found that all the competitive skiers cheered them on throughout the race. It was a touching reunion with Saige at that stop!

Betsy handed Saige off to Rich and me and from there it was a dash to the finish line. We knew that parking in crowded downtown Hayward would be a challenge, but we made our way to the fence lining Main Street in plenty of time. Our other kids, Karen and Carl, were also there with nearly all of their family members to cheer on the Warriors as well! Surrounded by excited fans we peered down the course, and finally after six hours of skiing they reached the top of the bridge at the start of Main Street. There they were announced and cheered for their final stretch of the race!

My job was to hand over Saige at the bottom of the hill, in exchange for the baby doll. The trio triumphantly skied with their own baby to the finish line!

It was Katie and Saige’s first Birkie, so they both received medals! Erik and Peter racked up another Birkie pin in their long string of races.

The grand finale – gathering our family in honor of our Warriors. Such a great honor for all of us!

And the final bonus for me – having extended special time with “princess Haakon,” our royal granddaughter.

The Grammy Jammie Tradition Continues

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How is it mid-February already and I have yet to reveal this past Christmas Grammy Jammies? I find I move more slowly these days, and tasks seem to take longer to accomplish. But not to fear, I completed 8 jammies for my grandkids, and 8 tiny jammies for their cuddly friends on time!

The closure of all Joanne Fabrics stores last year created quite a hurdle for this annual project. No longer could I find fabric and notions (for the non-sewer, those are things like zippers, thread, elastic, buttons and scissors) here in Duluth. Not even in the Twin Cities! Online fabric was extremely expensive, and I was reluctant to purchase large quantities without feeling the quality of the fabric. And then a distant memory pushed its way to the front of my mind, and saved the day. When my kids were young I made many of their clothes, particularly the knits like sweatshirts and pants, t-shirts, shorts and of course pajamas. I sometimes shopped at a huge fabric outlet called SR Harris. It was a massive warehouse with bolts stacked to the ceiling, and only through experience would you know where to locate the kind of fabric you wanted. A quick google search proved it still existed!

A field trip to the Cities ensued, and confirmed that nothing had changed in the place. It was still the seemingly disorganized mess as before, requiring intensive searching and yanking out bolts to inspect the goods. Quality is never guaranteed, so the selection process required determination but was usually rewarded.

Fortunately on that trip the perfect fleece jumped out at me, and I was able to find a coordinating flannel for the older kids’ jammie pants. Soon I was on my way, cutting out the jammie pieces and preparing to sew.

Once I have my sewing machine and serger out, I become possessed. I spent the better part of nine straight days sewing, completing jammies one after another. Rich had to cede his spot on the couch to the growing number of “kids” inhabiting his domain.

Tradition holds that I give the kids their jammies at Thanksgiving, so that they can wear them in the lead up to Christmas and beyond. This year, we were spread out at 3 different locations, so I distributed the jammies ahead of time and we held a simultaneous opening on FaceTime. Mayhem broke out, hard to follow in triplicate, but all the thrill I needed to fill my heart. From age one to 15 they tore into the packages and quickly donned the goods.

Having taken a pause for that milestone, I started in on the Friend jammies. They flew together given their small size in contrast to the continually growing kid bodies.

Those found their way under three Christmas trees to be opened Christmas Day. The younger kids immediately went in search of their Friends to dress them, often removing last year’s jammies to be replaced by the newest. Somehow most escaped photos, but we caught Saige with her puppy.

This was the 16th straight year for my Grammy Jammies. It won’t be long before I start the process all over again!

Completing the San Juan Islands Trifecta

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Only three of the San Juan Islands have enough roads to make it work biking. After covering Orcas Island and Lopez Island in the last two years, Erik and I set out to conquer the third, San Juan Island. This year we brought along an entourage – Rich, Katie and baby Saige came and we made a weekend of it staying in a VRBO cottage surrounded by prolific gardens with flowers, vegetables and fruit trees. Our hostess is also an artist. Her colorful paintings covered the walls of our cottage, and we were able to peer into her studio adjacent to the pond in the back yard. Such delightful surroundings!

The day started out with better than expected weather – not too cold, little wind and a bit of sunshine. We headed north first to Roche Harbor which is home to an elegant resort, posh little shops, and yachts galore in the harbor. We coasted down the steep road to get closer to the shore and ogle the immaculate landscaping and fancy yachts and sailboats.

A quiet narrow loop road beckoned on the other side of town so we followed it around a point. Fancy condos and houses perched on the shore, interspersed with stretches of tall woods. Those little lanes would be my favorite rides throughout the day.

Moving down the west side of the island we had plenty of water views, and one very steep hill. It snuck up on us, its pitch increasing as we progressed. As I pumped up that monster I knew I’d hit my limit when I resorted to sashaying back and forth across the lane to make it to the top! Fortunately, it proved to be the worst we encountered all day. Midway down that coast we stopped to admire the view and could see a long thick bank of fog stretching out diagonally across the water. We watched a sailboat heading toward it, then thought better of the idea and turned around. It obliterated everything behind it, and we knew for sure we would soon enter it ourselves.

Turning the corner and heading east, we found another smaller road that led to False Bay Tidelands. A sign informed us that the big round bay was home to a variety of tidal species and was a protected area. We weren’t sure if the water was always that low, or if it was low tide. But the fog was definitely rolling in.

Sure enough, at the next scenic spot we were able to admire the sign that labeled all the islands we could see from there, but in reality our view was just a wall of fog!

We continued on to the very tip of the island called Cattle Point. Beyond the interpretive area another small lane led us to Fish Creek, a narrow natural harbor with a small marina on the other side of the point. It was clear of fog, and we deemed it a good lunch spot. Settling down on a rocky ledge we had a nice view of the dock, boats and houses on the opposite side. It was quiet and unassuming with a bit of activity – folks going to or from their boats, one couple taking out their sailboat, and some movement across the way where the island homes had their own private docks. Under those circumstances, our sandwiches and fruit tasted exceptionally good.

Our trip out to the point had felt like miles and miles of downhill, and knowing we had to retrace that stretch we both secretly dreaded the prospect of all that uphill work. However, it proved to be so gradual that we pedaled up it almost without realizing it!

We were heading up the east side of the island back towards Friday Harbor, which is the island’s only town and the location of the ferry landing, when Erik realized my back tire was decidedly low. Pumping it back up proved to be a futile solution, so we sought a parking lot on the outskirts of town where Erik changed the tire. (I’m always very thankful to bike with someone more skilled at bike maintenance than I am!) We thought it was a most fortuitous spot when we turned in at the sign for the San Juan Bakery, only to be disappointed to learn it was closed on weekends. Sigh.

Back on the road, we chose another quiet lane called Pear Point Road which wound around a peninsula just outside Friday Harbor. It provided a bit of fun and whimsy when we stopped to admire a cycling sculpture!

Entering town, the idea of a treat lingered. Deciding that it was too cold for ice cream, and finding bakeries closed for the day, we headed to a coffee shop opposite the marina. Sipping our hot brews and savoring a raspberry pastry, we watched the tour boats departing for whale watching tours, float planes taking off and landing at regular intervals, and ferries coming and going.

Our final stretch took us up the remainder of the northern side of the island to Egg Lake Lane and our cottage. Just as we reached the driveway, raindrops began to fall which quickly became serious. We made it back just in time! In all, we cycled over 53 miles with 3,744 ft of elevation. Not bad for a day’s outing!

There was just enough time to relax and share our stories before we all headed out for a celebratory dinner at a restaurant on the harbor.

We rounded out the weekend with a visit to Lime Kiln Point Lighthouse where we took a path along the shore to the tower. It opened shortly after we got there, and we were able to go up the tower! Rich was below photographing black oystercatchers, and captured us out on the catwalk. As lighthouse keepers ourselves, we especially enjoyed seeing a very different lighthouse and talking to the volunteer there. That park is known to be a good viewpoint for viewing orca whales, but none made an appearance during our visit.

With the ferry ride back to Seattle, we successfully closed the chapter on our series of San Juan Island cycling tours. Our next job is to come up with a new cycling challenge. However, it’s going to be hard to beat this trifecta!

Vintage Vermilion Reruns

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I often feel that repeating a treasured activity can be disappointing. It just doesn’t measure up to the memories or falls short of the same experience. But that wasn’t the case in our return stay at Vintage Vermilion. After our whole family – Rich and me, our kids and grandkids – took over this resort on Lake Vermilion for a week in 2023, there was a resounding “Yes” when we asked if they would like to do it again.

Once again we rented the whole resort. This allowed us and each family to have their own cabin – space to retreat, a spot for kids who still nap, the convenience of breakfast and lunch fixings, a needed time-out when being with cousins got too crazy. There was plenty of sleeping around – kids commandeered the extra cabin for a bunk house, took turns sleeping over in our extra bedroom plus feasting on Grammy’s pancakes in the morning, and slipped off to the “Retreat” building to read or sleep.

The other big benefit was that we had the run of the place. We took over the big deck overlooking the water, bringing down an extra table and having lakeside dinners. The lodge building was always available for playing games or reading on the screen porch. The big indoors was a mecca of activity and the center of Chelsea’s “escape room” challenge for the kids on our one rainy afternoon. The kids constantly ran around on the expansive lawn between cabins, and it was nice to have the small beach to ourselves for the little ones who still love to dig in the sand.

We rented both the large pontoon boat and the speed boat for the week. Pontoon rides were a favorite activity including a lunch cruise where my “tacklebox charcuterie” made a repeat appearance! We took it on a sightseeing cruise on the larger part of expansive Lake Vermilion, and found a nice bay where we could jump off and swim. And it transported all 16 of us to a restaurant on the lake for dinner – another favorite repeat activity by request.

Of course the speed boat was a big attraction. Some of the little ones bravely went tubing for the first time. Older kids looking for a wild ride were gladly obliged by the dads who gleefully whipped them around the bay. Others just liked riding in the “fast boat.”

On quieter waters, the paddleboats, canoe and kayaks were popular, along with the stand-up paddleboard that one family brought. And of course, swimming was a part of every day.

The fun of having a big family gathering was seeing different groups form and reform all week long. Carl and Chelsea took all the boy cousins to the Tower-Soudan Mine museum, which fascinated them all. A number of us went running each day. Karen, Erik and Ben gathered to do core strength workouts on beach towels. Chelsea organized a scavenger hunt for the kids, which drew in the older ones to help solve the word-game clues. Adults battled with kids playing various board or card games. Rich and Katie each took Ben driving, with his newly minted permit. He even scored ice cream with Katie!

It was a time to cherish being together. Cousins played endlessly with each other. Adults gathered after bedtime for card games. We sat out at the bonfire and watched the embers glow. Each family took turns preparing dinner and we all ate together every night. And of course, everyone scrambled to have a turn holding or playing with the newest family member, baby Saige. Sometimes we wandered over to others’ cabins just to hang out and have a good visit.

And there was one more memory to repeat. My summer Grammy Jammies made a second appearance, including a little onesie for Saige! They did not disappoint, and caused a great ruckus upon distribution. It was great fun to see them appear throughout the week.

A week is a good amount of time. It’s always hard to see it come to an end, and yet that’s a good way to leave. To close this chapter of family togetherness filled with fond memories and special moments. And hope to do it again. Indeed when asked, would you like to come back? Once again the answer was YES! Time will tell. Kids grow and get involved in activities. Families make their own plans for travel or vacations. But schedules willing, we hope for another rerun.

What a difference a year makes

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When I registered for last year’s Grandma’s Half Marathon, I had no idea I would be facing major surgery, learn I had ovarian cancer and face 16 weeks of chemotherapy. I was fortunate to stay active throughout it all by going for increasingly longer walks with supportive family members and friends by my side. So even though the half marathon was only one week after I finished chemo, my daughter Karen and I stood in the starting chute, intent on walking the whole way.

It had to be one of the most emotional and uplifting days of my whole cancer journey. At Karen’s suggestion, we wore T-shirts saying “Straight Outta Chemo” and “I wear teal for my mom” and on the back they said “Usually we run. This year we FIGHT (cancer).” All along the way people commented on them, sharing their own stories, and lending their support. On the sidelines, Rich and all of Karen’s family surprised me with matching shirts that said “Support Squad,” waving Marathon Monkey and showing up every few miles. We powered through the rain under umbrellas and grinned all the way to the finish line. We were 15th from last, but it was far more thrilling than running a PR!

In the year since, I have worked my way back to fitness and reclaimed most of my favorite activities – walking, cycling, hiking, lap swimming, kayaking, cross country skiing, and snowshoeing. But running eluded me. I worked hard with my favorite physical therapist who has seen me through multiple running injuries, with exercises to rebuild my abdominal muscles (which he said were like “mush” after surgery). He gave me a plan for easing back into running, with strict orders not to start before 9-10 months after my surgery. But once I reached that mark, I still was not ready.

While on my long walks, I had to convince myself to take a few running steps. And every time I did I stopped abruptly. I just didn’t like it. My body seemed to rebel, and tell me it just wasn’t ready. Perhaps it was the neuropathy in my feet caused by chemo that objected to the bouncing and leaping from foot to foot. It didn’t feel right. And for once I listened. I continued to refrain for months, and honestly thought my running days might be behind me. What was most surprising was that I was okay with that. I just thought it was part of my new normal.

Until one day. I went on a walk and ventured farther than I’d planned, making it tight to get home in time to watch my granddaughter’s dance competition which was live-streamed online. So I increased my pace, picked up my feet and ran a few steps. Hmm, it wasn’t bad! I continued walking and repeated it with a little longer stretch. Still okay! With a number of short bursts I got home in time to watch her dance.

That was back in April. A few days later I went on an intentional walk/run, setting my sports watch to signal long walking intervals with one minute of running. Over the six weeks, I increased my distances and gradually altered the ratio of running to walking until I was only doing walking breaks for one minute every mile I ran. At that time I thought it would be possible to run/walk the half marathon.

With just 3 1/2 weeks left before the race, I eliminated my walking breaks entirely. I was back to full running! I was slow, but able to throw in a couple 12-mile runs to prove I could go close to the 13.1 mile distance. I was sure I could count on adrenalin and the excitement of the race to carry me the rest of the way. The race was on!

One year after we walked, Karen and I were positioned in the starting chute, ready to RUN! We were just two runners in the crowd, incognito but our hearts were full. Just like last year, Karen stayed by my side the whole way, and we relished all the excitement, the fun of the silly spectator signs, the antics of runners, ogled the fancy houses, and relished the loud cheers. She had words of encouragement as the going got tough, but just the gift of her presence kept me going.

Family members and friends were there to cheer us on once again, and the best part was having Karen’s two youngest run with us for several blocks.

I will readily admit it was the hardest half marathon of my 34 years of running them and full marathons. By the time we topped Lemon Drop Hill my pace slowed with each passing mile. My footsteps neared baby steps and it felt like I was barely moving (probably true!). But I was still in the game.

With the finish line in sight, I heard a familiar voice. It was Arlene, my good friend and running buddy, catching us from behind! What a thrill to see her! The three of us ran side by side, and crossed the finish line holding hands. It was a glorious moment. A triumph. And a rush of gratitude for the family and friends who have been there for me throughout this journey.

As Karen said, “Take that, cancer!” That says it all. My life goes on. And I feel blessed, one year later.

The Importance of Family

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One of the most heartwarming aspects of my cancer journey has been the unwavering support of my family. Throughout my treatment, they came to visit, even traveling long distances, made meals for us, and continually checked in with me by calling or FaceTiming. I just knew they were always there for me. And spending that time with them was especially precious.

At the start of 2025 and passing the one-year anniversary of my cancer diagnosis, I set some goals for the year, and #1 was to “maximize time with family.” It wasn’t hard to commit to that, as being with them fills my heart and re-energizes me. Not surprisingly, my grandchildren’s activities are often the driver for visits, and gives me a chance to support them in their interests.

Certainly top of the list for this spring was Saige’s baptism. Erik and Katie wanted to share this special occasion with all their immediate family, so they flew back to the Twin Cities to celebrate it in the same church where they were married. Rich and I snagged some extra time with them to enjoy an outdoor dinner at our favorite restaurant.

The baptism was a private and intimate ceremony, shared by close family members. But the tradition ran far deeper than that. They had 2 vintage baptismal gowns, one made for Katie’s mom and her siblings which was now entering its third generation. The other was made for my dad 111 years ago, continuing its trip through its fourth generation! Saige modeled both, and the emotions ran deep as I felt everyone in my family history sharing in this moment.

At least 11 of us there wore the same baptismal gown

Rich and I got away for a nice weekend in a Bed and Breakfast, and on a whim we visited Carl and Chelsea at their cabin! It was a bit of a detour from our route home, but was worth it to spend the warm spring day watching the kids run around and enjoy the outdoors. The highlight – and source of great laughter – was seeing Maren and Crosby jump in the lake. The equivalent of a Polar Plunge at that time of year!

Dance drew me to the Cities for two additional family weekends. Granddaughters Mya and Isabel are both in dance competition, and I was eager to feel the thrill, drama, intensity and excitement of those affairs. I attended a full day of the weekend-long event. It all started at home with Karen braiding and styling the tight bun in Mya’s hair, and applying all her stage makeup – oh my! I loved seeing Mya in numerous dances, rushing to change costumes, waiting to go on stage and just hanging around between dances. The energy and brilliance of all the dances, from youngsters watching one another to get the right moves to polished high school dancers in near perfect precision. Never having taken dance lessons as a little girl, it was a whole new world to me, and one I loved sharing with Mya and her family.

The end of dance season always brings a big recital, so I was back to see both Isabel and Mya dance. It has been so much fun to see them progress from year after year. At 13, Mya has blossomed with confidence as well as skill, and learned the art of facial expression to express the emotion of the music. 9-year-old Isabel has moved from the faltering back row to front and center, where she craves the spotlight!

Just as important, is sharing time at home with the kids. Playing games, riding bikes, walking the dog, reading aloud, snuggling and just hanging around together.

But there are adult moments too that I savor. Karen took me to a new musical called &Juliet at the Orpheum Theater. We spent a full evening together, starting with dinner at a Thai restaurant. The play was fun, rollicking, colorful, funny and unique, depicting what might have happened in Romeo & Juliet if Juliet had lived. Filled with pop music that rang out with a skillful band and talented singers, it was an evening of uplifting entertainment, pure and simple. As well as precious mother/daughter time.

And finally, Rich and I celebrated our 42nd wedding anniversary. A testimony to the person who has been with me throughout my cancer journey, and most of my life. Last year, we went out to dinner in the middle of my chemo treatments. This year it came during Rich’s radiation regimen. Life is different compared to 42 years ago, and promises more changes and challenges to come. But also more joy. More support, love, and moments to cherish. Because family is so important to me.

It Never Gets Old

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There is nothing like being a grandparent.  Seeing your children become parents and cradling that precious newborn are some of life’s greatest pleasures.

This is our eighth time around, and it is every bit as special as the first.  Our daughter, Karen, has four children ages 7 to almost 15.  Son Carl has three, from 3 to 8.  And this winter our son Erik and his wife Katie welcomed their first child, Saige Elizabeth.  It was such a happy moment for the whole family, as we have long awaited this big event.

Our flight to Seattle couldn’t come soon enough, and I readied myself with knitting needles and yarn to knit a cap for Saige on the way.  Anything to pass the time!  As soon as Erik brought us home from the airport, Katie greeted us with Saige in her arms and promptly handed her over.  It was heavenly, seeing her at last!

I had no expectations for our visit.  My whole goal was to help in any way I could and just be part of their new lives. I’d brought meal plans and wanted to free up Erik and Katie to soak up time with Saige. We would be on Saige’s time, so I was prepared for everything to be low key and flexible.

Erik had returned to work, but we all had a nice weekend together, including Saige’s first dinner out at a restaurant. Rich returned home after that, but I was not even close to getting my Grammy fix. So I stayed on for 11 days as planned. Precious time.

I admit I felt a bit rusty and wanted to get the hang of Erik and Katie’s parenting style. Everyone is different, and there are always new approaches to handling a baby. I was pleased when I mastered the art of calming Saige (deep knee bends were the key!) and was glad when I could free Katie up to attend to her MBA studies when needed.

Being the outdoors people they are, Erik and Katie wasted no time introducing Saige to fresh air. Erik had a 50k cross-country ski race, so Katie bundled Saige into the front pack and the three of us cheered Erik on for a full morning!

Katie and I ventured out for walks with Saige every day. Given Seattle’s propensity to rain, they had all the necessary gear and we headed out no matter the weather!

But the best times were snuggling with Saige. I could never get enough of her sweet face, and the tight bundle in her swaddle (something we never had!). Even in the time I was there she began to enjoy time on the floor, looking at the toys hanging overhead. I could never get enough of just sitting with her and watching.

The end of the week brought a real treat. For Erik’s birthday, Katie had made reservations at their favorite Bed and Breakfast in the Methow, a cross-country ski mecca in the Cascade Mountains. The four of us headed off for a weekend of snow and fun. I loved being part of several firsts for Saige, most notably snowshoeing and skiing! There is no doubt this little girl is going to be an outdoor sports enthusiast like her parents. Nestled snuggly in the front pack, she mostly slept through the adventures, while we relished the winter retreat including downtime in the BnB.

All that was over a month ago now, and I eagerly await photos, videos and FaceTime to see Saige grow and reach new milestones. No matter how many times I watch a grandchild grow, it never gets old.

The Yellow Sweater goes on TV!

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Recently I was contacted by someone from the Minnesota Live TV program on KSTP in the Twin Cities. The woman happened to be a grade school classmate of my daughter-in-law Katie! But what she really wanted was to ask permission to feature my Little Yellow Sweater blog post on their TV show. She found it endearing and wanted to share it with their viewers. After getting permission from my kids to show the photos of them and their children, I responded “Yes!”

You can watch a video of the show.

I feel honored to have not only my writing but our cherished family traditions honored in this way.

My son and his daughter in the Little Yellow Sweater