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The beautiful sunny afternoon was too much to resist, so indeed I went out snowshoeing again. Trying to redeem myself from getting lost this morning, I followed a different route this time, in the footsteps of another snowshoer, and the … Continue reading
I headed out first thing this morning to go skiing. After yesterday’s icy conditions, the new fallen snow was a welcome addition. However, my first clue that all was not going to go well was stepping off the deck into about 6″ of new snow – much more than I thought. Light and fluffy, I should be able to ski through it I figured. Wrong! Now only did the fresh powder swallow up my skis, but my boots also disappeared as I tried to ski. Skate skiing was a joke, having to lift my skis up and over the snow after each glide. So I decided, why fight it?
Deep snow just cries out for snowshoes. So I traded my skis for snowshoes and off I went through the woods. All started off just fine, as I followed the mountain bike trails which were barely traveled, and still pristine in the new snow. Tree branches were laden with snow, and as I dipped under those in my path I tried to prevent dislodging that beautiful white blanket.
It was quiet and peaceful in the woods, with just the thumping of my sinking footsteps to break the silence. This was much better than trying to tame the snow on the ski trails.
Navigating in the woods has never been my strong point. So when I ended up at a bridge on the far side of the trail system, instead of where I’d intended to go, I was disappointed but not too surprised. Altering my route, I headed up Lester River. I’d seen this stretch of river many times, from the overlook on the ski trail. It was different to travel the riverbed way down below with steep banks stretching high above me. At one point I could hear the rushing of the river’s water well below the ice and snow – creepy and fascinating at the same time.
Tiring of the river, I returned to the woods following a deer trail. I figured I couldn’t go too far wrong with ski trails and Amity Creek ahead of me – either one could lead me home. I found the woods surprisingly easy to traverse, and soon discovered that if I paralleled the deer tracks, I could stay on top of the snow – an advantage to being small and light! Sure enough, I crossed the ski trails twice, as expected, and continued on to follow a little used snowmobile trail. On and on I went, with my confidence waning as rapidly as the distance growing behind me. Perhaps I wasn’t going the direction I thought I was? Just a little farther – maybe I can figure out my position around the next corner. Nope. Humiliated, and more than a little frustrated, I finally turned around and retraced my steps. I eventually found my way back to Lester River. By this time, the sun was trying to come out, and I actually used it to determine which way I should go. And it worked! What a novelty. Trudging back down the river, I was relieved to see where I had diverted into the woods earlier – I was now on home territory. I could breathe a bit easier, and began to enjoy my surroundings again.
The clouds quickly dispersed leaving a beautiful blue sky and even better scenery. It was quickly turning into a sunny day. And my mood escalated at the same pace.
By the time I returned home, although the temperatures were still in the low 20s, it was warm enough to sit out on our deck in the sunshine. Sitting in my favorite Adirondack chair, all seemed right with the world. Perhaps I will go back out again this afternoon in search of the trail I intended to take…
When my kids were little, a new Bruegger’s Bagel shop opened near our house. It soon became a ritual for me to take my kids there for breakfast once a week before school. At first I’d take Erik, our youngest, to Brueggers after dropping off the others at the bus stop on my day off. How well I remember the day we discovered his brother’s lunch box still in the car, and made a mad dash to the next bus stop to deliver it to him!
As time went on and school schedules changed, the other kids were able to join us. Even when I went back to work full-time, we still managed to get to Brueggers. I loved our special time together in the early morning, over a simple breakfast of bagels and cream cheese. The staff knew us, and I invested in a Brueggers mug to get “refill” discounts on my coffee. We were regulars.
High school was a challenge for Karen and Carl, with a 7:30 start time. I’ll admit that they fell off during those years. What high schooler wanted to get up earlier than that? But Erik persisted – he wisely chose a different high school with a later start. So we kept up the tradition. College clearly intervened for all of them, but during breaks we’d still head off to Brueggers.
Erik is now working his first job, living in our Twin Cities townhouse. When we’re there, he is still willing to get up extra early periodically to have bagels with his mom. I feel so very honored! These days the staff do a double-take when they see my mug. It’s clearly vintage by now. But I’m proud of it and my tradition.
And on to the new generation. My grandson, Ben, is old enough for bagels now, so when we spend days together while his mom and dad are at work, guess where we head first? He too loves his Brueggers Mornings.
It’s an annual event. Hosted by the Duluth XC Ski Club, the idea is to ski all the trails in the city – in one day. We loved the idea, but Old Man Winter hasn’t cooperated to keep the snow long enough in recent years. This year that was hardly a problem. In what seems to be a recurring theme for us, we skied the Tour pelted by heavy snowfall, wintry mix and rapidly accumulating wet snow. And loved it.
The tour is a do-it-yourself affair and participants can ski any trails in any order. But we chose to follow the suggested route, starting in the west at the Spirit Mountain / Magney-Snively trails and working our way east.
It won’t surprise anyone to learn that Rich and I were the first to arrive and blazed the trails for those to follow. There was already a heavy accumulation of new snow and more continued to fall, pelting our faces and 
obscuring our vision. No matter, the accompanying fog veiled the beautiful views of the harbor that normally grace these trails. We had a quiet and mostly solitary ski around 
the connecting trail systems. I was quickly reminded how narrow and hilly the Magney trails are, although I had no fear of the steep downhills this time as our speed was checked by the sticky new snow.
Returning to the Nordic Center, more skiers were gathering and heading out on the trails. It was a festive atmosphere. Inside, we helped ourselves to hot chocolate which tasted divine. 16k behind us, and we were off to a great start.
Our next stop was the Piedmont XC trails. This one was completely new to us, and turned out to be a charming spot with a fascinating history. The 5.5k of classic trails wend though aspen and birch. But what made it unique were the signs. About 45 hand crafted wooden signs provide humor, puns and inspiration to skiers all along the route. It was in the parking lot following our enjoyable sojourn out on the trail, that by pure luck we met Jerry and Glen. The youthful 88-year-olds originally carved the trails out of the woods in 1960 and maintained them until the city took them over in 1980. And it is they who take great pride in posting the signs. We thoroughly enjoyed their stories and marveled as they headed off for their daily ski.
I next skied at Snowflake Nordic Ski Center, while Rich took a break at home (he was, after all, only a week out of the hospital…). I chose the 5k loop, which I navigated twice enjoying its gentle rolling terrain. Visibility had improved, and the skate deck was snowy but firm – probably the best skiing of the day.
We skied our final kilometers on the Lester/Amity 
trails, in our own back yard. By then the snow coming down had an icy edge, and what was on the ground turned soft and heavy. It was harder going than before – or was it just that I was tired by the middle of the afternoon? I managed a spectacular fall trying to ski a steep hill that I normally avoid. What was I thinking?
There were two more trails on the agenda, but the pull of a warm house and hot shower were too strong to overcome. For me, the fact that they were short and classic-only also may have contributed to my malaise. Having topped 40k, we figured we’d done enough. We could attend the evening ski club dinner without shame. We’ll just leave those two for next year.
It was a given that Rich would ignore the doctor’s orders. We knew he would start skiing again before the prescribed recovery period was over following his surgery last Friday. The only question was when? He’s much too active to sit around and rest. And going for long walks soon lost its appeal. I just knew he was itching to be out on the ski trails, especially given the new snow.
So I went behind his back. Early in the week I surreptitiously sent our kids an email titled “Taking Bets.” I suggested we have a betting pool on precisely when Dad would head out to ski, and asked each to reply just to me with the day they expected him to break bail. The only information we had to go on was the doctor’s suggestion that he take the week off work, not work out for a couple of weeks, and not lift more than 5 pounds. I registered my vote for Thursday then waited for the other bets to come in.
Final tally:
Clearly none of us thought he’d make it longer than a week.
The email responses had barely arrived when Rich started making his move. “Where are my knickers?” he asked Wednesday morning. Uh oh, I was in trouble. Sure enough, by 2pm he was outfitted in his ski clothes and waxing his skis. Shortly thereafter, he was out the door. So much for doctor’s orders.
Upon his triumphant return, Rich wasn’t exactly apologetic for his actions. Far from it, the first thing he did was post his Garmin GPS data for the ski on Facebook. I rather doubt that 10k at 5 min/k was what the doctor would consider an “easy ski.” 
I decided it was time to break it to him. So I commented on his Facebook post, informing him of our bet. And about Karen being the winner. As I expected, he was quite tickled that his audacious behavior was the center of family speculation. And that he exceeded our expectations for the most part.
I’m just glad he’s feeling so good. There’s a lot to being in good health to fuel a speedy recovery. But I still hope he doesn’t overdo it. I’d like to bet on a full recovery soon.
There’s no denying it. After the Birkie the pressure is off. No more push to get in more and more kilometers. No more anxiety over doing a weekly long ski. Now is the time to go out and ski for the mere pleasure of it. That sounds bad – like it’s a grueling regimen and something we “have to do” when training for the Birkie. Not so, really. I enjoy the demands of that process too. But there is a difference.
This morning dawned clear, sunny and cold. I was very surprised to see the temperature had fallen below zero. But at this time of year the rising sun quickly warms the air and by mid morning it was already in the mid-20s.
A friend came over and the two of us walked over to the Lester/Amity ski trails. We donned our classic skis and headed down the tracks. This was not a speed session, it was all about sharing a love for the outdoors, the sport, a workout and friendship. We talked as we skied, covering myriad topics as we poled and kicked. Hesitating at intersections became a good excuse stop and talk some more. We ran into a good friend and fellow skier, and of course spent time talking to him. It was the epitome of a relaxed outing yet we still covered many kilometers at a decent pace.
The day had all the nuances of a spring day, with warm sunshine, brilliant snow, deep blue sky and warm temps. The snow and trail conditions were far too good for spring skiing, but we had all the benefits of what felt like balmy weather. Kids from the local grade school were out with teachers and parents practicing their skiing skills. They couldn’t have picked a better day. Adults populated the trail, all happy to exchange greetings and exclaim over the beautiful day. I’d never seen so many people out mid-day. It was the kind of day where I wanted to stay out and keep skiing forever. In fact, I’ll admit to returning to ski again later with my skate skis.
At this stage in the winter, every day of skiing could be our last. One good melt can turn the trails into either an icy or a muddy mess. It made this ski even sweeter.
Yes, there are benefits to having the races behind us. Social skiing is definitely one of them.
Since our recent Emergency Room experience, we have indeed gotten our health care documentation in order. That episode taught us that we were vulnerable, and Rich’s subsequent surgery was all the incentive we needed to make sure we were prepared with the information and rights we needed to protect each other’s health. In short order, we accomplished the following:
1) assign a primary and secondary health care agent and define their rights
2) outline your wishes for life-sustaining medical treatment and end of life care
Forms for Health Care Directives are easily found on the internet, but they are specific to the state in which you live, so it is important to select the correct one. They also need to be signed by two witnesses or a notary public.
It wasn’t clear to us what rights a spouse has, so we each filled out a Health Care Directive assigning each other as our primary health care agent. We also asked our unmarried sons to complete one as well. Parents do not automatically have rights to information or to make decisions on behalf of their adult children.
At our age, one doesn’t often think about end of life care (really, we’re not that old!). But in completing the forms, we discovered personal wishes that were important to share with one another. And since these documents can be replaced at any time, we know we can update them if our desires or circumstances change.
Rich provided copies of his Health Care Directive to his doctors and the hospital for his surgery. We are also keeping scanned copies on our smartphones as well as home computers, and sent copies to our children. You never know when or where you will need it.
One is rarely prepared for a health emergency. We certainly weren’t. I think we are now in a better situation going forward. And hopefully we won’t be needing these measures soon. But I feel better for having taken these steps.
Have you documented your health care yet?
It was a year ago this week that I started my retirement. How odd it was to get up on Monday morning with no place to go. More accurately, no place I had to go. It was a liberating yet oddly displacing feeling. But I didn’t linger long, easily filling my days with long neglected projects, hobbies I’d suppressed for years, family, friends, grandkids! and of course workouts. Cycling, running, skiing as much as I like has been a treat. And I have enjoyed starting my “retirement job” as a freelance writer.
I’ve developed my own rhythm to my days. With Rich still working, I have a large degree of independence. Rich works remotely from our home in Duluth, so he is present, but occupied. I enjoy pampering him with fresh muffins mid-morning, and he freely admits that his life is a lot simpler now that I am available to handle the myriad home duties that we used to squeeze in after work hours.
But all that is about to change. Rich has announced his retirement as of April 26. Before long he will join me at home daily with an unstructured lifestyle. No doubt that will take some adjustment, accommodating his plans and needs into my new retirement schedule.
This week feels like a sneak preview of that routine. With Rich home recovering from his surgery, he’s here all day every day. But it’s not really a fair test. He’s flush with small projects, just like I was in the beginning. And more significant, his physical activity is necessarily restricted. That’s huge. As much as he’d like to be out skiing, he’s settling for short walks and trying to be a “good boy.” I’m not sure how long he can last.
We are entering a new era. After almost 30 years of marriage, the most free time we have spent together was 17 days on our one and only two-week vacation. But we’re ready for the challenge. Rich is already planning to do part-time consulting. I’m hoping that can fund our “exotic travel” account. I have my writing and hobbies. And we look forward to more family time. Best of all, we can indulge our love of doing long-distance outdoor sports together. In fact, several more long cycling trips are in the planning stages.
I’ve decided I like the preview. I’m ready for the full length feature – bring on Rich’s retirement.
It was only 27 1/2 hours. But it seemed a lot longer. From the time we walked in the front doors of the hospital to the time we walked out again, it felt as though the world had stopped. Hospitals are like that. Nothing seems to matter except what’s going on inside.
Even the short periods of time I spent at home were surreal. Things just seemed, well, different. Even the dog knew. She is devoted to Rich, and kept looking around for him. I wasn’t good enough for her. She wanted Rich. And she let me know it by whining incessantly at bedtime. And beyond.
We were both very grateful that they decided to keep Rich in the hospital overnight. Going home the same day as his surgery sounded like a great thing. Sleeping in his own bed, a quiet, familiar environment and no hospital stay. But seeing him hooked up to fluids with the nursing staff constantly checking his vitals, and professionals doling out advice or reassurance was a blessing. The extra care and attention before we were on our own gave us an extra measure of confidence as Rich walked out the door.
It feels good to have all that behind us now. Rich is thrilled to be showered and dressed. He’s relaxing on the couch, not a hospital bed. And he even sneaked a Diet Coke.
We’re glad Rich is home again. And the dog is happy too.
The waiting got long. I forced myself to wait at least 15 minutes between checking Rich's status, as it continued to hover on “OR.” I invented logical reasons why he was still in there. I pushed alternatives from my mind. In the scheme of things it really was not all that long. But it seemed like it.
Then suddenly Rich's doctor came out the door and was at my feet. He delivered the words I longed to hear, “All went well.” It did take longer than normal, and there was some additional work that needed to be done, but all still within the confines of the laser surgery. No incision needed. Blockage successfully removed. Yea! On his next fleeting visit he told me he'd just talked to Rich. That was major news. Being raised in a doctor's family, Rich has a healthy apprehension about anesthesia, so coming out of that was a big step. While it was still a long time before I was permitted to see him, I could at least relax.
Now it's all about recovery. Due to the additional work done, the doctor is keeping him in the hospital overnight. At this stage, it seems a small penalty. Rich has already gone from groggy to napping to tapping away on his tablet. Feeling better can't be too far away if he is already engaging with his beloved Internet. Soon Rich will be relocated to his own hospital room. Another first for him.
It will seem strange not to have him home in bed with me tonight. It's not like we haven't spent time apart, it's just that this feels different. But once again we have a lot to be thankful for. This hospital stay is just for good measure. It's not a long, dragged out affair. And I know his recovery is already starting.
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