0 Planks

I'll make this post short. I just returned from a week in the Seattle area visiting my family for the holidays. The visit reminded me of a few things:

1. I don't miss living in a metropolitan area. At all. Not even a tiny little percent. Screw the traffic and the people and the time it takes to get ANYWHERE. No thanks.
2. I do miss my family so I will sacrifice my lack of interest in large metropolitan areas to go visit them as often as I can.
3. I am pretty certain I could never live in the Northwest again. The lack of daylight was excruciating. And when it was daylight? It was either gray or rainy or very filtered sunlight. Having lived in such extreme sun for over a year, I will take the extreme sun ANY DAY OF THE WEEK. I detest gray skies and I can't stand rain. Good thing I live in Gunnison, huh?

Anyway. On to things I did for the week before we left for the holidays. I was on cross country skis of varying sorts almost every single day. Working out outside in the sunshine is where it's at, people. Who needs a treadmill or a stationary bike when you live in Gunnison and the skiing is IN TOWN??

Skate ski sesh at Hartman rocks. Lots of hills. Lots of sky.

Taking a crying baby classic skiing at Hartman. If I had to create a math problem, I would say the wee one cries about once every eight ski sessions. I like those odds so I take my changes. Though listening to him cry for an IS quite irritating.

Notice he is riding on the front vs. the back. I do NOT recommend this method of baby-carrying while cross country skiing, especially with the amount of hills at Hartman. But I try to be a good mom and thought this might calm him down.

No luck. It just made it more complicated to ski down the hills back to my car.

I spent the next day classic skiing with the bebé at Hartman again but I didn't take any pictures because how many selfies do you really need of me skiing with a kid on my back?

Exactly. Just picture snow, sunshine, blue skies and a sleeping baby.

Friday night was women's skate ski night at Crested Butte. Except it was canceled which Cassie and I didn't know until we showed up. No matter. We decided to skate ski anyway.

Until we encountered 6 inches of powder on top of the groom, making skate skiing all but impossible. Cassie and I said "whatev" and attempted anyway. We had fun sort of not really skating on too much powder (is there such a thing?).

And then I left for gloomy Seattle. We arrived home this evening after 10 hours of traveling (one serious downside to living in Paradise is the proximity to the Denver airport...) and I am salivating at telemark skiing tomorrow.

Being back in Paradise is juuuuuuust fine with me.

Detail: Planks

0 Ski posse

It's almost 11am on Sunday and I am still sitting here in my pajamas. Normally, I would be up on the mountain by this time, but Brian is out of town and after paying a babysitter twice this weekend, the bank account is tapped out for the next few days.

No worries. I can barely move anyway. All of the skate skiing plus skiing the moguls on telemark yesterday finally caught up with me.

OW.

Stairs are proving challenging and even my triceps were not left untouched.

OW. OW OW OW OW OW.

The pain was worth it. After hauling both kids, all of their gear, plus my gear up to the base area by myself yesterday-and sweating buckets in the process- I dropped Hazel off at lessons and Tygh off at the children's museum where they have a drop in program and finally FINALLY rode the chairlift up the mountain to meet my friends.

Let's be clear. I love to ski. No matter what, I love to ski. But I really love to ski with friends. Who doesn't? Chasing friends down the mountain, hoping they will stop for a brief second so you, the lone telemarker, can catch your breath, looking over the edge your friend just dropped, swallowing your doubt and going for it because she did too- yeah, it's awesome.

Of course, Brian remains my very best ski partner of all time forever amen but when he's not available, I'll gladly take the posse.

The posse can take many forms. My favorite posse is made up of my siblings and siblings-in-law. (see: Whistler, White Pass, Mt. Hood Meadows, Summit at Snoqualmie, Mission Ridge.) In the absence of family however, the posse yesterday was pretty rad.

I grinned a lot. I may have gotten a little sunburned (in the chaos of gear and children, I totally forgot to apply sunscreen. Oops.). And I had a drink at the ice bar.

Have I mentioned that living here is amazing?

Now, go get your own ski posse- membership is fluid and casual- find you some challenging terrain and a good bar and I guarantee a good time.

I must go take some Advil now.

This has nothing to do with the ski posse. It is only evidence of a tired little boy who was snoring BEFORE I even put the keys in the ignition.

Detail: Ski posse

0 Winter. It has arrived.

It was -22 degrees here the other night (that would be farenheit, in case you were wondering). So yeah. Winter is here. I mean, it is HERE.

It's cool. I don't get all up in arms when the weather hits negative digits like some people do. If you wait until noon, you can still get a good ski, hike, run, whatever in and you will probably sweat while you do it.

True story. It's so dry here and we're so high in altitude, that sun is fierce. It works wonders during the winter.

Since we last talked, I have been on a bike NOT AT ALL. Here's me, crying.

Not really. It's winter, people. I love winter. I love snow. I love all of the activities you can do on snow. And this winter, I vow to ride my trainer exactly zero times and to go outside and recreate 5 million times. 

How's that for a promise?

Here's how I started. Brian and I ran a five-mile Turkey Trot in Durango on Thanksgiving Day. I have been running trails regularly as of late, but I haven't run over 4 miles in...months? year? I don't know. A long time. And certainly not on pavement. I was surprised to find that 1) my time was decent and 2) I wasn't sore the next day.

That was a win.

And then I was all, screw this dryland stuff. Let's ski. So I took Tygh out in the Ergo on a 0 degree day and we toured a little at Mill Creek. I was happy. He didn't care.

I have been itching to get on my skate skis for weeks. Unfortunately, skate skiing is not as baby-friendly as classic. I mean, maybe you are super woman and can totally maintain your balance while wearing a 20lb. baby, but I am essentially a novice skate skier and well, you would see me fall flat on my face a lot.

I had an opportunity on Friday to get on my skate skis and I took it. There was a lot of floundering and a lot of near misses and a lot of stops to catch my breath. It's also hard which makes me want to do it ALL OF THE TIME. Of course.

I skied with Brian and he kicked my ass on his classic skis. Jerk. He also took the opportunity to get in some upper body work since we were skiing on the football field.

This picture has no real story other than its complete awesomeness. 1 year old + fleece pajamas + down pants + fleece jacket + down vest + hat + mittens + down booties + down suit = a very pissed off Randy from A Christmas Story.

Let's talk about the weekend. It snowed and snowed and snowed ALL WEEKEND. And I enjoyed two powder days in a row. Like, to my thigh, deep in the trees powder days. Combined with the cold, that powder was delicious.

Did I mention that we live close enough to everything that I went to the resort for the morning, met Brian and the kids at the trailhead, snowshoed in to the woods, cut down a Christmas tree, came home and shoveled the driveway and porch and it was only 3pm????

Mountain living, people. Mountain living.

I was back on skate skis Monday because I was determined to work on my technique. And also not stop so much to catch my breath. I will get better at this, right? Right?

On Tuesday, I pawned the kid off (it was negative something or other. Too cold even for the bebé) and went for a quiet tour at Mill Creek. It was cold. Cold enough that even though I was nordic skiing, I still had to wear a down jacket. But it was drop dead gorgeous and quiet. So wondrously quiet.

Three more months (at least) of winter. It will be good. It will be full of snow and fresh air. And my trainer will be covered in dust.

YES.

Detail: Winter. It has arrived.

0 One year

This weekend marked our one year anniversary of living in Gunnison. It seems appropriate to provide a recap of our year and all that it entailed. Or maybe I just feel the need to write it all down, add some pictures and publish it.

That's probably more like it.

One year ago, we loaded up two cars and a trailer and headed to the Rockies with a 3-month-old, a 4-year-old and my sister. My sister was only along for the ride of course. She didn't stay which was unfortunate and sad, but she has her own life in Seattle.

We left secure jobs that made us feel happy and satisfied and challenged us. We left good friends who made us laugh, supported us, took care of our kids, made us dinners and challenged us. We left my family. Granted, they were three hours away but that is a hell of a lot closer than Colorado. We left a bike racing community and a Ski Patrol community. We left security.

We also left the rain and city living and long commutes behind.

All of that said, would we go back?

Probably not.

When anyone asks me about the move and our transition, I am always honest. We love it here, but this past year was hard. Like, really freaking HARD.

When we first moved, Tygh did not sleep well and Hazel didn't sleep well because Tygh didn't. As anyone with children will attest, sleep deprivation multiplies any stressors you are experiencing by a factor of 10. At least.

So we had that going for us. And then there was Brian's job. On a scale of 1 to 10, his stress level was at 267. No joke. And there was my job. Going from a well-established, respected professional career to a non-existent one has been difficult.

And that's a mild word to describe it. I could go in to in multiple blog posts but I won't because you don't need to hear me whine and also, you don't want to watch me cry. That might make you- and me-uncomfortable.

It was good times last winter, for sure.

The thing was though, it WAS good times. Eliminating our commutes gave us so much more time in our days, even if Brian did work more hours. Reducing that commute to the mountain and riding a free bus made all of us more relaxed and happier. Mountain biking world-class trails out our front door put perma-grins on our faces and made us giddy. Walking and biking everywhere in town we needed to go made us feel self-sufficient and pleased. Meeting our own bike and ski tribes made us feel that we belonged.

And the sun. Oh the sun. Seeing the sun and feeling it on our faces every day convinced us that we can never live in a rainy place again.

It was a year of extreme highs and extreme lows. We sacrificed a lot to be here. Was it worth it?

The vast majority of the time, yes. I never want to sit in my car, watching brake lights in endless rows ahead of me, just so I can go to work. I have zero plans to ever ski in the rain again. I must live next to amazing mountain bike trails. The ski hill must offer free transportation or be across the street from my house.

Yes, I am spoiled.

But every time I face a wall or a disappointment in my job search, I want to run away. Many small doors have been opening to me and I have scampered through those doors as quickly as I could and put 110% in to those opportunities. I teach Spanish twice a week after school to an amazing group of kids. On Fridays, I teach at Hazel's school and every Friday, I am inspired and encouraged by what transpires there.

But if we're being honest, I need more. I want to put Tygh in daycare more often, for him and for me. Being a stay-at-home mom was never my gig. I want to engage professionally with more people. I want to be challenged more regularly.

I am a big fan of TED Radio Hour on NPR and I have now listened to their show "To the Edge" three times (if you haven't listened to it, I highly recommend you download the podcast). All of the speakers in that show essentially say the same thing: Without adversity, it is impossible to grow.

All of the speakers are right. Without adversity, we would never be forced to get creative and innovative. Without adversity, we would stagnate. I try to view the job situation as one that is temporary and good opportunity to re-evaluate myself and my goals.

The rest of the time though? We freaking love it here. Here are some pictures that explain it better than I ever could.

Detail: One year

0 The wheels have stopped turning (for now)

I did two last cyclocross races to end my season. Both were snowy, muddy and cold. One involved three sets of stairs and two sets of barriers PER LAP. The other was 100% MUD. Deep, thick mud.

I fared equally well in both. Which is to say, I kind of floundered around. In the first race, which took place right across the street from my house on the WSCU campus, I raced against two pro mountain bikers and a bunch of guys. When I crashed and hit my head, my result became inevitable.

Le sigh.

I finished, albeit with a massive headache and some whiplash.

The next week, we headed back to Grand Junction, where I raced against the former pro mountain biker who LAPPED me two races prior and a girl who won the A race one race prior.

LTR Events does a bang up job of creating rad cyclocross courses, but when it comes to vetting their racers? They might want to work on that.

After Grand Junction, I hung up my bike for the season. All of my bikes, actually. Snow is on the ground. It's cold. And to be honest, I'm tired of cleaning my bike. Not that I do it that much, but I really hate it when I do.

I had a stellar season. Even starting late due to injury, I rode for 8 straight months. I rode indoors on my trainer a grand total of ZERO times. In preparation for the West Elk, I rode my ass off on my road bike all while I rode my ass off on my mountain bike and definitely improved my skills. I prepared not at all for cyclocross season and focused on having a damn good time. That I did.

Hanging up my bikes right now seems satisfying. In previous years, I came to a point that I looked
at my bike with disgust. Not this year. I am thrilled to move on to ski season, but I can. not. wait. to get back on the bike in the spring.

Until then, I'll be skiing- skate, classic, telemark, resort, backcountry...whatever. Does it involve snow and planks? I'M IN.

This is how we warm up for cyclocross racing in town. I can pretty much guarantee no other racers utilized our unique form of warm up.

Mid-week ski with this guy. He is confused why these skis are so skinny.

The views from the nordic track are pretty good.

I'm smiling because Tygh finally fell asleep after screaming for 30 minutes. It was a nice way to pierce the peaceful atmosphere of the mountains.

My twice-weekly ski conditioning class ended this week. It was painful. But good. But painful. But good. Let's hope telemark skiing is less painful because of the eight weeks of suffering I put in.

This is apparently my "confused and angry" race face. Or something.

My name is mud. Literally.

2/3 of my pit crew.

Being on the pit crew is hard work.

The next day? Screw cycling. Time to ski. This was the traffic jam we faced.

A little family nordic action.

Hazel insisted we all ski behind her. This is her being tolerant while I took a picture in front of her.

Monday brought me back to the nordic track, this time with just Tygh.

We learned all about every sound every single animal makes. Ever. He is my ski buddy.

Detail: The wheels have stopped turning (for now)

0 Those turns? They're kind of hard.

Brian went to Boston for five days. There was a cross race in Fruita and I wanted to go.

So I spent my Thursday night packing and right after school on Friday, I loaded up my bike, my kids and a cooler full of snacks and drove the 2 1/2 hours to Fruita.

I left my sanity at home.

I am fully aware that taking 2 kids alone on a quick overnight trip is no big deal. Everyone everywhere does it all of the time.

This does not lessen the exhaustion factor. And it certainly does not make one better rested or fresh for a cyclocross race.

Upon arrival in Fruita, the kids and I went in search of a non-fast food restaurant that could feed us quickly. This is apparently a non-existent entity because TWO HOURS after being seated at the brewery, we finally left.

Two hours.

Lucky for me, my kids were fantastic. No one melted. No one screamed. And no one was so tired they almost fell asleep in their food.

Except maybe for me.

The next morning was filled with wrestling a fairly mobile toddler, his swimming sister and re-packing everything in the car (I refused to believe the well-intentioned front desk clerk who was all, "You can totally leave your bike on the car. No one ever steals bikes here." Right, lady. I will be bringing my bike in my room with me, thank you very much.).

After all that, THEN I raced. And I lost the race in the first 2 minutes.

After three races in Junction this season, I have finally learned that the races involve a gazillion 180 degree turns and few natural features. Which is fine and good, it's just that I suck- like, really suck- at 180 degree turns. In this case, I was caught up in the aggro men's field, panicked, slowed down in the first turns and watch the girl ahead of me speed away without a care in the world.

Goodbye, 20-year-old girl who is better at tight turns than me. Good work kicking my ass before the race really even commenced.

UGH.

The positive side is that I am a BEAST at laying the hammer down on the straightaways. The down side is that while I could see the girl ahead of me due to the maze-like nature of the course, I could never catch her.

Post-race, I packed it all back up (it only took me 2 hours or so...) and took Hazel to McDonald's. Yes, McDonald's, the root of all evil. She had been begging me for the last 24 hours to go to the playspace there (she didn't even care about the food) and she had been such a superstar the whole trip that I gave in.

So I sat at McDonald's while my stomach growled angrily for some real food and watched my kid play.

She was a total sport and left after 5 minutes so we could get me a burrito and caffeine for the drive home. I love agreeable 5-year-olds.

We were 20 miles from home when we were rear-ended on Highway 50. Apparently, the woman who rear-ended me can't turn corners very well either. No one was hurt and it was fairly low-speed. But damn. I ALMOST made it.

Other than the bikes (Hazel had hers too. She is a rockstar cylocross racer.), I unloaded zero items from the car that night. I was done.

My kids were so not done and I kept looking at the clock to see if it was bedtime.

The next day? It was amazing. I hired a babysitter and went on a super rad, albeit tiring ride with Sarita and Tim.

And on Monday, I took Hazel and Olivia mountain biking while Tygh slept in the car. That was the frosting on the cake. Have you ever listed to the squeals of a 5-year-old and a 6-year-old while they shred single track?

You should. You most definitely should.

This picture was taken on a straightaway. I know this because I look mostly competent here. I have pretty much zero pictures of the kids from the trip because 1 parent+2 kids= hands very full.

My friends are really good at mountain biking. They walk a lot less than I do.

Blurry, but you get the idea. Dirt is where it's at.

And now I bring you...Silly girls on bikes!

Detail: Those turns? They're kind of hard.

0 I swear. THIS will be the last weekend we'll be able to ride bikes.

Every weekend for the past month, we've been saying, "THIS will be the last weekend before it snows. Better get on our bikes now."

And guess what? Every weekend, we've been surprised because it hasn't snowed. On the contrary, the temperatures have reached the 50s (which, at 7700ft. is actually quite warm) and the sun has shown in a brilliantly blue sky.

Gone are the winds of spring and gone are the monsoons of summer. Winter is yet to come. What's left is a fall of mountain biking dreams: Cool to warm temps, an endless sky and miles of perfect singletrack just down the road.

If I were still in Portland, I would be watching the rain come down in sheets and I would be filled with a sense of dread so heavy, it would be increasingly difficult to wiggle out from under my down comforter every morning. This season in the Northwest is rough. It's not cold enough to snow on the mountain and the drenched and gloomy city offers no respite.

But here in the mountains of Colorado? I cannot tell a lie: it is infinitely better. At this point in the cycling year, I am normally ready to say FINIS. I am sick of my bike. I am sick of Spandex and Gu and early morning workouts and stinky bike jerseys.

This year, so much is different. I ditched the early morning workouts for a different kind of training- one that involved me, sunshine and just enjoying being outside for every.single.workout. I traded my Spandex for some much hipper mountain bike shorts (ok, fine. I still wear Spandex underneath. But mountain biking shorts are pretty much super awesome.). I switched the Gu for more natural Honey Stinger products. And I found myself a tribe of dirt lovers who revel in being outside on an unbelievable Saturday morning filled with endless views, cool air and challenging trails.

It is November. I am eagerly anticipating ski season. But I still cannot wait to get on my bike each and every day.

And every single time I pedal, whether it be in slow motion up a hill or in deep concentration down a particularly difficult trail, I think THIS.

One hundred million times THIS.

While moving here has not been easy for our family, the rewards far outweigh the challenges. The sacrifices have been worth it.

Some kids and their friends on a hike 5 minutes from my house.

Ending my day on a solo ride. Not a lot of people but a whole lot of zen.

Some of the super rad chicks I ride with. "Hey Sarita and Marie, can you show me how to ride this?" Right before they zip over it without even pausing.

Detail: I swear. THIS will be the last weekend we'll be able to ride bikes.