Category Archives: Family Footprints

Planting the Seed

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When my children were very little, I took up running to stay in shape.  As in most things I do, I jumped into it wholeheartedly, and was soon hooked on running and entering local races.  When I could, I’d bring the kids along and enter them in the kids’ Fun Runs.  They even humored me when they got older, and joined me in some 10k races.

Time marches on.  Kids grow up and become more independent, and parents have more time.  I moved up to half-marathons and then marathons.  It was Mom’s running obsession, but they were always there to cheer me on.  That was the extent of their involvement, or so I thought.

It wasn’t until they got into college that the seeds started to grow.  One by one, they took up running or cycling.  It wasn’t long before they too were reaching for extreme goals.  My daughter joined my husband and me running Grandma’s Marathon.  Two years later we added my youngest son as well!  Our middle son – always the independent thinker, no running for him, thank you – did the MS150 bike ride and the week-long RAGBRAI bike ride across Iowa.  And that was just the beginning – we have shared numerous races and events since then.

How did we become such an athletic family?  Those seeds must have germinated.

Trans-Superior Cycling Tour Unveiled

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This is it, the cause of my sudden attachment to my bicycle, the reason for my forays out into the wind and weather for training, the shift from running to cycling.  It’s the Trans-Superior Tour!

Never heard of it?  Probably because it was my husband Rich’s brainchild.  The route, the idea of spending 9 days cycling together, the challenge, and the custom cycling jersey.  It’s not his first such adventure, but it is mine.  I’m a cycling novice, remember?  But I’m up for it!

I have to admit, his route is rather ingenious.  We wanted to focus on Lake Superior, and many of the best views from the road are on the Western end.  So how to contain the trip to that portion of the lake?  No problem – we’ll just ferry across using Isle Royale as a stop-over!  Not a bad way to get a rest mid-trip and perhaps a few hours of hiking in the wilderness.

So here is the official route.  We start in Duluth, work our way along the South Shore and up the Keweenaw Peninsula, right up to the top at Copper Harbor.  That takes five days and is the most challenging part of the route, with the longest cycling days and the most hills.  From there we ferry across the lake and return along the North Shore to Duluth.

I suspect that whittling down my travel essentials to one set of panniers is going to be one of the trickier aspects of the trip.  However, Rich’s mode of travel involves staying at inns and little motels along the way, so I am spared the need to schlep real gear on this venture.  And I admit I like the idea of reliable shelter, hot showers and real beds.

I have between now and mid-August to be ready for this cycling tour.  I will periodically update my training progress and the finer details of our trip plans during that time.  And if you want the male point of view on this journey, visit Rich’s blog, NorthStarNerd.org.

Oh, and did you read the fine print on the jerseys?  That last line reads “500 Miles of Love.”  It has to be, or we wouldn’t be doing this!

Pen Pals across Generations

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I spent my junior year of college studying in the beautiful cathedral city of Durham, England, in one of the finest old universities in the country.  That year gave me an appreciation for living in another country and absorbing its culture through every day life.  I felt strongly that it was important to experience and live with the differences rather than trying to impose our American ways on a foreign environment.  Otherwise, why bother leaving the USA?

It was during that year that I met Mary and we became close friends.  In the pre-internet world, we managed to stay in touch over the years through letters, and treating ourselves to one holiday phone call at Christmas time.  Each time we connected, it was as though we’d just been together days before.  That is the hallmark of true friendship.

One of my parting comments to Mary at the end of that year abroad was to convey a wish.  “Wouldn’t it be wonderful if years hence, our children could become pen pals and we could send them across the ocean to stay with each other and experience living in a different country?”  Sure enough, we each married, and had a family.  Our oldest were both girls, just one year apart, and at age six, they began writing to each other.  Their diligence mirrored ours, and their friendship grew.  And at the tender age of 12 (what were we thinking?), we put our daughter, Karen, alone on a non-stop flight to London to visit her pen pal, Ruth.  Several years later, their brothers followed suit.  While their correspondence was more sparse and they found less to talk about on our holiday calls, they still formed a bond.  More trips followed in both directions.

Fast forward through the years, and on to our daughters’ weddings.  Ruth came all the way over with her parents for Karen’s wedding, and last summer we were all present at the quintessential Oxford wedding for Ruth.  It felt so right to be there, like being part of the family.

I had no idea what my wish would spawn.  I do believe my children have acquired the same appreciation for other cultures and an interest in seeing more than tourist sites while traveling.  My own friendship with Mary is stronger than ever, having seen each other through numerous life changing events.  And the distance between us has dwindled dramatically with the help of email, Facebook and Skype.

Now that grandchildren are on the scene, perhaps they will carry on the tradition for yet another generation.  My wish lives on.

Life’s Simple Pleasures

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It is so easy to rush through life, making lists, checking off our accomplishments, cramming as much in as we possibly can.  But it’s really the little things that are important.  And it means slowing down to savor those experiences.

That’s where grandchildren come in.  I supplied the Easter cut-out cookies, my daughter contributed the brilliant icing colors, and my grandson provided the joy.  Who knew a 22-month-old could spend over an hour dabbing frosting on cookies?  It did me a world of good to shove my perfectionist tendencies aside and embrace his approach to slathering color at will on the fanciful shapes.  Purple duck?  Why not!  Spotted carrots?  Creativity!  Broken cookie?  Samples!  Mixed up frosting?  New colors!

The results were delightful, and I smile every time I open the cookie jar and survey the intense hues before making my selection.  I can’t wait to make Christmas cookies!

What’s in a name?

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My husband has been blogging for years.  He was an early adopter, and his online persona just sort of evolved, and fits perfectly…  the NorthStar Nerd.  We live in the North Star state, we have a cabin on North Star Lake and well, he is a nerd.  And darned proud of it!  If you have interest in all things techie, particularly social media and collaboration tools, check out his blog NorthStarNerd.org.  There are plenty of interesting off-topic posts as well.

So that left the question of my moniker.  These things can’t be forced, you just know when you find the right thing.  I used my newest best friend – thesaurus.com – to look up various words I thought would describe me.  I bounced around ideas in my head, and being the consummate list-maker, I wrote them down.  But as often happens, inspiration hit when my brain was idle and the wind whipped through my hair, on a bike trail.  I had it!

Petite Perfectionist.  That’s me all right.  I’m small, but I pack a lot of energy, and no one will argue my perfectionist tendencies.  Blogging world, meet the PetitePerfectionist – your host of Superior Footprints!

The Miracle of Life

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There is nothing like the birth of a baby, especially when it is your grandchild.  With our first, we cherished holding our little bundle, just hours old, in the normal confines of the hospital room.  But this second one had a different plan!

I was the designated grandparent to come stay with big brother, should the trip to the hospital require leaving in the middle of the night.  Sure enough, I got the 3:00am call asking me to come.  I jumped in the car and raced down the highway for the half-hour trip, little suspecting the drama that was unfolding.  I arrived to find two police cars in the street with lights flashing…  Inside, I was met by my son-in-law, Matt, who informed me that baby Mya had already been born!  Less than 10 minutes before, the baby had made her abruptMya footprints entrance into the world, on the bathroom floor attended only by her parents – before any help could arrive!  By then, the police were cheerfully assisting and the EMTs soon joined them.  It was a scene of joyful chaos, as baby and mother were both doing well, and it was just a matter of preparing them for the trip to the hospital.

How privileged I felt to be present.  To see baby Mya, just minutes old, still white with mucous but already gaining a pink glow.  To hug Matt, still fresh from the shock of delivering his own daughter, impressed with his level-headedness through it all.  To see my own daughter, Karen, radiant with joy as they strapped her into a chair to take her downstairs.  Relief and happiness were written all over their faces.  They were precious moments, that will remain with me forever.

When the assembled multitudes finally left the house, and the street returned to darkness, it was unbelievably quiet.  Big brother Ben had slept through it all!  The adrenaline was still pumping through my body, and I could hardly wait for dawn to come so I could take Ben to the hospital and hold that little bundle – cleaned up and wrapped in hospital blankets, as expected.

Click here for Karen’s personal account of Mya’s arrival.

Click here for pictures of the event.