Winter Wonderland

Our cozy 'lil cabin

Trailblazing pioneers on the first snowshoe of the year!

Colorado Bound...

I'm headed to Crested Butte early in the morning where, unlike Chicago, when it's all freezing temps and nonstop snow at least you can ski and snowshoe all day long! I will be taking & posting lots of pictures, as usual.

This year's goal: Conquer Snodgrass Mountain on snowshoes for the 2nd time. Not easy, but the view rocks:

"He climbed cathedral mountains, he saw silver clouds below
He saw everything as far as you can see
And they say that he got crazy once and he tried to touch the sun
And he lost a friend but kept his memory"
-John Denver

Life is like a box of Crayons

"We could learn a lot from crayons; some are sharp, some are pretty, some are dull, while others bright, some have weird names, but they all have learned to live together in the same box.”

-Anonymous

“Life is like a box of crayons. Most people are the 8-color boxes, but what you're really looking for are the 64-color boxes with the sharpeners on the back. I fancy myself to be a 64-color box, though I've got a few missing. It's ok though, because I've got some more vibrant colors like periwinkle at my disposal. I have a bit of a problem though in that I can only meet the 8-color boxes. Does anyone else have that problem? I mean there are so many different colors of life, of feeling, of articulation...so when I meet someone who's an 8-color type, I'm like, "Hey girl, magenta!" and she's like, "Oh, you mean purple!" and she goes off on her purple thing, and I'm like, "No - I want magenta!"”

- John Mayer

"Maybe we should develop a Crayola bomb as our next secret weapon. A happiness weapon. A beauty bomb. And every time a crisis developed, we would launch one. It would explode high in the air - explode softly - and send thousands, millions, of little parachutes into the air. Floating down to earth - boxes of Crayolas. And we wouldn't go cheap, either - not little boxes of eight. Boxes of sixty-four, with the sharpener built right in. With silver and gold and copper, magenta and peach and lime, amber and umber and all the rest. And people would smile and get a little funny look on their faces and cover the world with imagination."
- Robert Fulghum

On a Lighter Note...

Worst Best Man Ever @ Yahoo! Video

"His ears were often the first thing to catch my tears."

-Elizabeth Barrett Browning

I started this blog on Friday, October 31, two days after my beloved dog died. I’m sure that sounds like strange timing, but it’s somewhat explainable. Without a doubt, Chief was part of my deepest self. Losing him made me think, for the first time in my life, that life was disgusting and cruel. I wanted to believe that there were reasons to think life was sweet…that there was still love and kindness in the universe.

It’s hard for me to write about Chief because nothing will capture his essence. For 12 years, I loved to talk about him, sharing stories and pictures. His death has brought out a side of me that doesn’t want to tell anyone, selfishly wants to keep him to myself, worries that sharing with others will make this more permanent. After 6 weeks, I feel a little more ready to share.

I was promised a puppy as a ‘consolation prize’ for moving to Texas in 8th grade. I fell so in love with Chief when we visited the breeder’s house. Of course, I picked out the best looking puppy (eighth-graders have very strict criteria). His markings were symmetrical and his face was perfect. To this day, I still have never seen a more handsome dog. I held him tightly in my arms the entire car ride home and well into the next week. I had to remind myself that puppies don’t grow when they’re constantly held. So, I discovered that if I sat Indian-style on the floor, Chief would come and curl up between my legs. Chief did that his entire life, actually. He knew that when I sat Indian-style on the floor, I meant business. As a puppy, he fit perfectly. As an adult, we were quite squished.

My love for the ‘lil guy grew exponentially in the years following. Chief provided the most charming array of companionship. When I was happy, he’d wag his tail so hard that his whole body squirmed. When I was sad, we’d get around the ‘No Dogs in Bed’ rule by sleeping side-by-side on a blow-up mattress. Of course, things always felt better in the morning. I was blissfully in love with Chief, only harboring half a thought that one day life would continue without him.

Chief was 12 this year, but by all accounts still young and strong. In fact, he was commonly mistaken for a puppy right up until the end. A tumor had formed on his spleen, unbeknownst to us, and Chief underwent immediate surgery. His heart stopped during surgery and then, after the vet had left the room and the assistants had given up, it restarted. I knew my dog was special. I knew he wanted to hang on. The day after surgery held great hope, as he seemed to be getting better. However, by the 2nd day, he was exhibiting undeniable signs of brain damage and my parents were forced to say their goodbyes. I, way over here in Chicago, could do nothing. Chief has lived with my parents since I went off to college and then got an apartment in Chicago. A 6-acre California vineyard and the promise of stay-at-home parents definitely trumps city living for dogs. So here I was, 2 days after my ultramarathon, my elated spirit short-lived. I felt inconsolable after Chief was put to sleep, but largely still in disbelief. It was too unreal- the Chief I last saw was running wildly in Colorado! I also felt an overwhelming sense of guilt that I had abandoned him in his greatest time of need. For all the times he nuzzled me during my sad moments, I was unable to whisper tender, loving thoughts in his ear. No goodbye for us. The thought of never seeing him again takes my breath away even now. Part of me is dreading going to Crested Butte for Christmas. That would have been the next time we would’ve been together. There, I will finally be forced to deal with the permanency of his departing.

At worst, thinking about Chief makes me believe life is filled with sadness and loss. More than once, I’ve been tempted to delete my blog because it simply does not feel true. At other times, though, I think it’s important to remember that life is filled with both sadness and happiness and we get to choose which one will hold the greatest influence over our thoughts. I also believe it’s one of the sweetest things in life to madly love your dog and feel their unconditional love in return. But it still doesn’t stop me from wanting to sit down on the floor, Indian-style, and wait.

"Not the least hard thing to bear when they go from us, these quiet friends, is that they carry away with them so many years of our own lives."
-John Galsworthy

A Dog's Rules for Christmas

1. Be especially patient with your humans during this time. They may appear to be more stressed out than usual and they will appreciate long comforting dog leans.
2. They may come home with large bags of things they call gifts. Do not assume that all the gifts are yours.
3. Be tolerant if your humans put decorations on you. They seem to get some special kind of pleasure out of seeing how you look with fake antlers or wrapped in Christmas lights.
4. They may bring a large tree into the house and set it up in a prominent place and cover it with lights and decorations. Bizarre as this may seem to you, it is an important ritual for your humans, so there are some things you need to know:

-Don't pee on the tree

-Don't drink water in the container that holds the tree

-Mind your tail when you are near the tree

-If there are packages under the tree, even ones that smell interesting or that have your name on them, don't rip them open

-Don't chew on the cord that runs from the funny looking hole in the wall to the tree
5. Your humans may occasionally invite lots of strangers to come visit during this season. These parties can be lots of fun, but they also call for some discretion on your part:

-Not all strangers appreciate kisses and leans

- Don't eat off the buffet table

- Beg for goodies subtly

-Be pleasant, even if unknowing strangers sit on your sofa

-Don't drink out of glasses that are left within your reach
6. Likewise, your humans may take you visiting. Here your manners will also be important:

-Observe all the rules in #4 for trees that may be in other people's houses. (4a is particularly important)

-Respect the territory of other animals that may live in the house

-Tolerate children

-Turn on your charm big time
7. A big man with a white beard and a very loud laugh may emerge from your fireplace in the middle of the night. DON'T BITE HIM!!

(Source: http://www.dezert-rose.com/humor/christmas/)

Holy Handel!

Yesterday, I was witness to the single most moving and powerful piece of live music I've ever heard. I got tickets to see the St. Clement Choir sing Handel's Messiah (by candlelight, very cool). My favorite part, no surprise here, was the "Hallelujah" chorus. Maybe it was hearing it live, maybe it was the buildup of the prior 90 minutes of the Messiah, maybe the extra touch of how the choir closed their books as if to give this moment their unbridled attention, maybe the standing homage of the entire audience...I still can't explain it, and I've obviously thought this out! I know the St. Clement Choir really is that good (unbiased opinion here) and the choir director Randy knows his stuff. But, Wow! A thought flashed through my mind immediately after we all sat down and the church echoed in silence- Part of me is going to be waiting until the next moment I can hear that again. I've tried to download different versions today to re-capture the essence of this performance, but no luck (although this video is the best I've found and definitely worth a listen or 5). Enjoy!

Interspecies Love, pt.2

I'm learning that interspecies love is quite common. This picture shows a 12-week old macaque that was abandoned by his mother before being rescued in Goangdong Province in China. He was taken to a vet and recovered physically, but it was said he "still showed little appetite for life," appearing sad and apathetic. Then a white pigeon, another patient of the veterinarian, took a liking to the macaque. Soon, they were seen cuddling and the monkey's spirit quickly improved. According to vet staff, the two became "inseparable."

Bearly Made It

On September 15, 2007, a brown bear was walking across Rainbow Bridge on Old Highway 40 near Lake Tahoe, California. Apparently spooked by approaching cars, the bear climbed over the side, lowering her 250 lb body in between concrete girders...100 feet above the granite gorge below. Witnesses say there were claw marks etched into the concrete where she grasped for footing. Animal Control didn't take action at first, supposedly unconvinced of the feasibility of a rescue. When they found the bear still there the next morning, however, California Highway Patrol and Truckee and Nevada County Animal Control units enacted a plan to save her.

Volunteers positioned a nylon net below the bear while an official tranquilized her, causing her to fall into the net below.

They lowered the net to the floor of the ravine, after which the groggy bruin got up and stumbled back into the woods. Amazing rescue!

the Pursuit of Health, Happiness, and Hygge

I've always felt like a bit of a nomad. While I've had a very stable family life (that's for you, Mom), I've lived in Cincinnati, Pittsburgh, Houston, St. Louis, San Jose and Sonoma, California, and Chicago. Apparently, my ancestors were the same way; my heritage depicts pure, 100% European mutt. I sometimes envy those who identify strongly with a certain heritage - the ones who boast of their Irish ancestry during St. Patrick's Day, the others who eat their weight in pasta in the name of Italian forefathers. The benefit of not being able to identify with any one culture, I suppose, is being able to identify with all of them. I like to pick up difference nuances from my cross-cultural heritage and use them to create a patchwork concept of myself. The Danish art of 'hygge' is one of my favorites.

The concept of hygge is hard to describe. It doesn't translate directly into English, but it is best described as a feeling of coziness and comfort in one's surroundings. It symbolizes pleasantness, familiarity, and warmth. One source describes it as "a feeling or mood that comes from taking genuine pleasure in making ordinary everyday things simply extraordinary." Another source finds hygge in the following scenario:

"Gather the family and invite over a couple of good friends. Push the sofas and chairs up close to the coffee table. Douse the electricity and light some candles. Better yet, light a fire in the hearth. Serve plenty of food and drink. Raise a toast or two, or three, and feel the warmth flow around the table. Look at each other until you see the candlelight shimmering in each other's eyes. You've got hygge!"

Hygge was in abundance this Thanksgiving. I am exceedingly thankful for my family and friends this year, good health, and a very warm sense of happiness and contentment with the Masons in Indiana this week. I would say Happy belated Thanksgiving, but I have just as much to be thankful for today as Nov. 27. Happy Every-Day-Is-Thanksgiving, all! I hope you find your own versions of hygge.

The North Face Endurance Challenge 50k!

On October 25, I ran my longest race yet - a 50k (31.1 mi) trail ultramarathon. The race was held in Kettle Morraine State Park in Wisconsin, mostly on wide dirt paths with a little single-track thrown in. The weather was perfect (50 degrees and the rain stopped right before the start). The course was in its full, colorful fall splendor. The trail was muddy from raining the whole night before, but what fun is trail running without getting a little dirty, right?

Training for this race quickly became one of the most important (and certainly time-consuming) parts of my life. I had never been so dedicated to a race in my life- not in the 9 years of competitive cross-country or track, not in D-III college athletics, never! It was my "If I can finish this, I can get through anything" challenge to myself. I signed up and started training on July 29. The biggest hiccup during training was spraining my foot (a freak accident, apparently from wearing old running shoes on a long run) and sporting crutches for a week. People asked if I would still run the ultra, being only 7 weeks away at this point. Secretly, I was pretty sure I would rather hop the whole thing on one foot than drop out. Fortunately, I didn't have to. Recovery happened quickly, thanks to being 25 and healthy. Hey, I'll enjoy it while I can.

Training was a huge feat in itself for me. My dietetic internship and grad school kept me busy, as did the weekend trips, weddings, etc. that hindered regular weekend morning long runs. My training plan included long runs on both Saturday and Sunday (Saturday usually long runs, Sunday usually 10 miles), so I often found myself running on weekend evenings in the dark or very early mornings. Running past all the Lincoln Park kids stumbling home from the bars in the wee hours of the morning was funny. They probably thought I was crazy, going out to run 4 hours. I thought they were crazy.

All in all, my training log shows a total of 58.8 hours of running over 3 months...about 360 miles. Towards the end of training, I felt totally wiped. All I wanted to do was sleep and eat and staying awake past 9pm was a virtual impossibility. At one point, I chastised myself for skipping a 6 miler during the taper to hang out with friends. I realized then that I may have gotten a little too obsessed with following my training plan to a T. Bryan, an Ironman finisher and no stranger to tough workout schedules, gave me a good reality check when I needed it.

Race day finally arrived! I was all set to go with my special needs bags at the aid stations (extra socks, shoes, food, etc.) and my DIRTY GIRL GAITERS! If you're a trail runner and hate rocks in your shoes, this may be the best $13 you'll ever spend (http://www.dirtygirlgaiters.com/).

Pre-race pics:

(Special shout-out to B- definitely not 'perfect' weather for spectators!)

The next few hours were some of the most blissful and satisfying hours of my life. Trail running gives me incredibly peaceful thoughts and induces a seemingly neverending state of bliss. And it's legal! Another perk during the race was having Bryan as my sherpa. I lost count of how many times I saw him after #12. On a 31 mile course, that's pretty incredible. He was so helpful, holding my sweaty clothes, encouraging me eat, holding extra gear bags, and getting other spectators to cheer me on. Knowing I only had, at most, 6 miles to the next aid station to see Bry was some serious motivation.

I hit a low from mile 14-18 when the trail zig-zagged across an open, ugly field. Things picked back up at 18 after some Tostitos and a change in scenery. I picked up the pace at mile 20 and felt like I was flying to the finish. Oddly, I still felt pretty fantastic at mile 30! I passed a lot of people here and found guilty pleasure in passing men walking along. I kept wishing time would slow down so this experience would last longer. Minutes flew by much too quickly. I remember a marathon or two where I was desperate for 10, 30, 60 minutes to pass. Now, I was so desperate for the race not to end! I finished in 6 hours and 14 minutes, averaging 11:59 min/mi pace, ahead of my 6:30 goal. There were 27 female finishers and 91 male finishers.

Race pics:

Running in to the finish, full smile ahead:

Post-race with my new buddy & 50k finisher Kurt:

HUGE thanks to Bry for his physical and mental support over the past few months:

The End.

Church Dogma

This is a very funny sign war, apparently between two churches in the same town. Read down in sequential order to see the full exchange.



Sadly, here comes the bubble burst:
After a little investigation, it is believed this is made up with a little help from a Church Sign Generator website. Look for yourself - sure enough there's the same scenery (ex: cars) in the background of each picture. Cute thought, though!