Last night at work encompassed many of both the worst, and most beautiful things about my job. The little guy I've been working with the past 6-ish weeks lost the battle with his illness and has moved beyond this life.
It is never ok, or fair, or good, or easy. It should not be.
Yet these things do happen. That's the worst.
Love is still beautiful. The love the parents have for this child makes their pain bigger, and also more beautiful. Their ability to actually go through this with dignity is beautiful and inspiring. The strength and fight in this little child, amazing. What an honor to be a part of his life. I am grateful to know this family and their beautiful love. Humbled and honored that they entrusted their child to my care and allowed me to be a part of their lives in this time.
Hug your family. Hug your friends. Heck, hug a stranger. Keep the love and care out there in the world, because we all need it. Take care of each-other.
And if you raise a toast today, raise it in honor of a little man who fought hard and is now free of pain.

Scenes from Childhood

There are few things that take me back so vividly into childhood memories as summer nights. Sitting on my couch, cool breeze drifting through a dimly lit room. Outside sounds of the day dying down, not much traffic now. Closing my eyes I am transported to another time.

Growing up in the northwest we cherished those warm summer days, and the soft evenings that followed. Relaxed and slow, relishing the beauty. Cooling off with open windows, noisy fan, and glass of water. Lights turned low to keep it cool. The scent of freshly-wattered lawn from next-door. 

In our house summers meant Mariners games on the radio. We might not all be in the same room, but there was a sense of camaraderie as we listened and rooted for the home team. Coloring, folding laundry, or falling asleep to the voices of  Dave Niehaus and Rick Rizzs; "To the back, to the wall, it's outa-here!" I can almost still hear them today. "MY OH MY, Goodbye baseball!"

What are your favorite summer memories from childhood? 

Photography makes me happy

Looking through the lens of a camera is something magical for me (or, nowadays, looking at the LCD screen on the back of a camera). Framing a scene transforms it. With a camera in my hand I tend to look for beauty and "good" in the world around me. Even in a barren land, in the pouring rain, or in the midst of destruction there is a spectacular loveliness. It emerges as I point the lens intentionally. For the world cannot be captured as a whole in a photograph, the photographer must select a point of focus. Must make a choice of what to hone in on. I generally like to take photographs that I will enjoy looking at later, so I choose to photograph beautiful things (or capture the scene in an appealing way). The amazing thing is that after a photography walk I am more apt to search for the beautiful in overall life as well. And I usually find it.

Many times in life (and for SURE in the past few weeks) I haven't focused on the good, on the beautiful, on the lovely. I feel anxiety rising and turn to see darkness and scary things all around. Forgetting that the darkness is only part of the picture. Forgetting that the good is still out there. So the anxious thoughts become worse. And worse. And my world shrinks as I bow toward the ugly choking darkness.

Until I can turn and re-focus. On the good, the beautiful, the hopeful, and the loving parts of life. A camera helps me do that; helps me become more intentional with what I focus on. I think I should just keep a camera in hand at all times until I learn the lesson fully!!

I might not be able to get every day in, but I've started trying to take at least one photo a day. Thanks to my great friend Stephanie (thanks Stephanie!) I found a group of people who are doing the same thing. Well, we are all looking for the same theme each day together (right now we're doing the alphabet one letter at a time) but it works in my mind. Looking for beauty in the world around us each day. And I bet we will find it.

What helps you find the good in life when you are stuck seeing dark? Please share! I can use all the reminders and aids I can get right now.

It was a dark and stormy day in Montenegro . . . and oh so beautiful!!

You can do it!

Have you ever seen something so beautiful and touching it brought tears to your eyes? I'm a total sap, so it happens to me all the time.

Yesterday I was able to run in a 10K and stay to cheer at the finish line for friends who ran the Half-Marathon. I love watching at the finish line. It's kind of like the airport baggage check when loved ones are re-united, but even better. If you're ever discouraged or sad head on down to a local race. Such joy and encouragement all around.

My favorite is watching young kids cheer on their parents. A little boy yesterday could barely contain himself when he saw his Mom running down the home-stretch. Jumping up and down with an enormous grin on his face yelling out, "Good job Mommy!!." He was so proud and utterly delighted.
My other favorite is watching people cross the finish line who have obviously struggled and worked so hard to get to that point. Don't get me wrong, it is amazing to watch the uber-athletic people jet across in record time while barely out of breath (crazy kids), but there is something about those who had to struggle to finish that is beautiful. You can see it in their faces at the end. Pain and fatigue, but also pride. They know they are bad ass. Training was not easy, but they did it. The race was long, but they did it. Watching them accomplish this goal, and watching their friends cheer on proudly . . . happy tears.

Most of the time training for a race is a solo sport. Sometimes run with a couple of other people, but usually solo. At the sidelines of a race it feels like the onlookers become a part of it too (just like the "sixth man" in basketball). I'm convinced this is why race times are often a little faster than training times. Encouragement helps the runners to run a stronger race. It made me wonder how I can be more of an encourager to people in everyday life who are struggling to "finish strong"in one area or another. I also started thinking about all the cheerleaders who help me to keep going when I'm tired. Thank-you, thank-you, thank-you. I live stronger because of it. It is a beautiful thing.

H2O

Water. I love water, it is probably my favorite element. 

Water is life, abundance. Our bodies are filled with the substance and we need it to live. Lack of water is an arid, withered, devastating sort of place. I feel a little lost without water around. My need for water is deeper than physical thirst.

The Water draws me. It calls to me. When I am happy it invites me to dance. When I am lonely it is my companion and embraces me when I dive in. If I am angry I go to the ocean and the powerful waves allow me to shout with them. When sad the sound of a stream, the quiet flow of life that will not be disturbed, massages my heart until the tears can flow; quiets me with peace when I am spent. When running in the rain the Water and I play together.

Water is powerful. Crashing waves and tsunamis prove such. It is also mighty when quiet; a small stream can carve its way through stone due to consistent and stubborn flow. 

Writing this I sit along the sea. The water soothing my heart. Keeping me company. Giving me strength. 

(Written April 23, 2012. Giardini della Biennale. Venice, Italy)

How was your trip?

"So, how was your trip? What was your favorite part? Are you glad to be back?"


It's difficult sometimes to answer those common questions. How do you boil down a month of experiences into a succinct response? Not that I mind the questions, it is fun to talk about the trip with people. I just don't have great answers without going into hours of conversation! Here is my attempt at brevity. 


Things I miss about Europe (in no particular order, and certainly not exhaustive):

• Food!!! Trying new foods is always fun, especially when they ended up being yummy most of the time. Random food experiences like a milk vending machine that spit out fresh milk, or being talked into buying dried figs at the market (which were really good). Trying the local cuisine like burek, kremna, squid ink risotto, cevapcici, pasticho . . . mmmm, my stomach is grumbling. 
• Walking, walking, walking. I love being outside and moving. One of my favorite things to do anywhere is just walk around and notice things and take pictures. We must have walked 6-8 miles most days (much more on some). Even though I'm decently active in normal life, I sit much more at home than on vacation.
• Wine for lunch. No further explanation needed!
• Back to the food arena; I loved all the daily markets. Fresh produce and meats and cheeses all set up every day in the city centers. Both beautiful and practical.
• Hearing other languages all the time. Sure it can be a little frustrating to not understand what is going on sometimes (I had my moments), but listening to people speak in different dialects is super fun too! Trying to repeat the sounds and enjoying the cadence of foreign speech. 
• History! The US has nothin' on Europe in this department. Walking past ruins from 70 AD, reading about history in the museums, hearing about more recent history from locals. 
• On a somewhat related note, art! Beautiful buildings and paintings and statues everywhere. Turn a corner and there appears an amazing mosaic or fresco just sitting there. Little architectural details that just aren't common around here.
• Meeting people from all over the place. I'm not a social butterfly or anything, but I do like to meet people who have such different life experiences. In Mostar, Sarajevo, and Dubrovnik we heard from locals about what life was like in the war. In Split we met a Canadian couple living in Switzerland. Everywhere we met people traveling from all over the world.

Things I am happy to return to (also in no particular order and not exhaustive):

• Hot baths! The hostels were great, but certainly didn't have bathtubs and didn't always have very hot water. Ahhh.
• Washing machine and clean clothes! I don't think I got too stinky, but it is much nicer to have mechanically washed clothes than hand-washed-in-the-sink and dried by hanging off the end of the bed. (We did have proper laundering twice during the trip, which was great).
• My own bed and pillow.
• Good cold water. Most of the trip had pretty good water (a couple of places it tasted icky), but Portland has some of the best water straight from the tap that I have ever had.
• Not needing a map to go out to dinner. Exploring is very fun, but sometimes it is nice to come home to the familiar roads. 
• Sitting alone in my condo. People are fun, and it is great to get out there. But I'm an introvert. Didn't realize until I got back how much I missed my silent alone time. 
• Friends! Missed you all. 

So, there you have it. In short, it was a good trip. Too many good things to pick a favorite. Glad to be back. 

The blog is back . . . for now

"'The time has come,' the Walrus said, 'to talk of many things; 

of shoes -- and ships -- and sealing wax -- of cabbages -- 

and Kings -- of why the sea is boiling hot -- and whether 

pigs have wings.'" (Lewis Carroll in The Walrus and the Carpenter)

What I say may be as random and confusing as the words of the 

walrus, but the time has come to write. It has been a while. Life 

became busy with good (and some tough) things in the past few 

months and I did not take the time. The time to sit. And think. And 

write. 

Recently I was able to have a day of reflection. In Venice of all 

places! (I'm a lucky girl.) It turns out that I have been ignoring 

my own voice. Not listening to those internal signals telling me

to stop and think and rest. To take time alone. To step out of the

chaos of normal life and think about the meaning of life. About 

what is good. About what should change. 

This is a transition time right now, and maybe that is why I am 

ruminating so greatly. In any case it is time to write. To help me 

remember that voice inside and give it room to grow. 

For quite some time I have thought of my voice as icky (both 

the internal and what everyone else hears), and that I have 

nothing to say worth hearing. Perhaps nothing here will 

amaze or astound the masses. That's ok, it is time to write 

anyway. To prove to myself that I CAN speak.

More to come.

Rainier, the Short Version

This past weekend I joined eight other Climb for Clean Air participants to attempt the summit of Mt. Rainier. Although weather did not allow us to make it to the top, I was able to climb to 12,300’ and back safely, and had an amazing  experience. 

On Friday July 15th we climbed from Paradise to Camp Muir, which is about 4.5 miles and about 4,500‘ elevation gain. We stayed at Camp Muir and slept for a few hours, then started our summit attempt at around 1am on July 16th. Strong winds and wet conditions made it unsafe to continue on, and we turned around at the Top of Cleaver at around 12,300’ elevation. We all made it back safely around 11:30am on the 16th. The climb was a great challenge and I’m proud of the whole team for their efforts, both in climbing and fundraising. Many of us wish to attempt the summit again next year!

If you want the (VERY) long version of the climb, click HERE.

If you wish to learn more about the efforts of the American Lung Association contact me or find them online at www.lungusa.org

Mt. Rainier--WARNING: Excessively long post!

Mt Rainier

July 13-16

Paradise (5,400 ft) to the Top of Cleaver (12,300 ft)

Any attempt on my part to describe or convey what it was like to climb Rainier will be a mere shadow of reality at best. Yet I must try.

First off, thank-you to all my supporters. Financial, emotional, training buddies. Couldn't have done this without you! 

It all started back on January 19th, 2011 at an REI informational meeting about a fundraising climb program I had seen advertised. It might seem excessive to start that far back, but all the training and preparation is a huge part of it (skip down a few paragraphs if you want to get to the actual climb). At the meeting I learned about the Climb for Clean Air program. What a great opportunity to do something I’ve dreamed of since childhood while also raising funds for a great organization. I e-mailed the event coordinator the next day to sign up. 

Six months filled up quickly with things like 16 weekend training hikes where I met many great people on the same journey; lots of time at REI and Next Adventure (“excuse me, do you work here? What’s the difference between a lightweight and heavyweight glove?); evenings of walking stairs with increasingly heavy pack (Nothing weird going on here, I'm just wandering stairs for an hour with mountaineering boots and a backpack). Slowly I found myself in better shape, and actually understanding how the gear worked (or even what it was!). I also discovered friendships growing during the training as we learned and conditioned together. Nothing like post-holing up a trail for hours to bring people together!

In the beginning July seemed so far away but the time moved quickly and all of a sudden the climb was looking me right in the face. The weeks before the climb the gear list was permanently attached to my hand as I checked and double-checked (and triple, and quadruple . . . ) to make sure my massive pile of gear was just right. And don’t get me started on food. At one point I actually was sitting in my kitchen with various piles of food around me calculating calories and percentage of protein/carbohydrate/fat and carefully packing up each meal for the climb. Eventually the car trunk held everything I would need (double actually, as I threw in a ton of stuff “just in case” I might need to bring it), and I was headed off to the Mountain with an excited-nervous feeling. 

Finally arriving in Ashford for orientation I was able to meet the team. To my immediate relief they were (and are) an easy group to jump into. Welcoming, and just as excited and nervous for the climb as I was.

What a fantastic climbing crew!

The next day we headed up to Paradise for rainy day climb school with the guides. Rest stepping and pressure breathing our way along the snow. Stopping on some hills to practice self-arrest techniques. It’s kind of fun to throw yourself down the slope and then dig into the Mountain with arm or ice axe to stop. My arms and pecs were a little sore later though! 

Friday morning. Finally, we’re ready to begin. On the drive up to Paradise the shy Mountain who had been hidden by clouds all week all of a sudden came into view, and I could see Rainier’s amazing mass and height. My smallness in comparison and the immensity of the task ahead was overwhelming. What were we in for?

Climbing is an interesting sport. You are part of a team for sure; but at the end of the day often you’re left trudging upward, following the boots of the person before, lost in your own thoughts. The unknown loomed as large as Rainier as we stepped up onto the trail. Was I strong enough for this climb? Did I have what it would take? Every step on the Mountain brought me higher than I had been before, further into the unknown. It is probably good that clouds once again veiled Rainier, or looking toward the summit could have been daunting. 

Climbing up to Muir

Once we were on the trail all the training and preparation took over and I fell into the rhythm of hiking and enjoying the beauty of the Mountain. The weather was pleasant to start, and several hours of hiking and a few rest stops found us at Camp Muir as the wind kicked up. 

Our Hut on the edge

First impression: delightful little mountain camp. Huts and tents scattered along the ridge. 

Then I turned around and looked back down the Mountain. Spectacular. I don’t think the view from 10,000+ feet will ever get old. Again I was struck with the vastness of the wilderness and how puny we are in relation. We were at our camp for the night, at the mercy of the Mountain. 

Getting more rest than I expected that evening, at midnight we woke and began getting ready to go for the summit. Outside a sense of fatigue and excitement swarmed around us as we donned crampons, harnesses, headlamps, and helmets. 

Finally at the ready we moved out onto the Cowlitz Glacier and clipped into our rope teams (three climbers and one guide on each team) and moved slowly across the glacier, the rope spreading several feet between each climber. Once again I was struck with the dichotomy of climbing as a team (we were literally connected to one another) and an individual (we each walked alone, barely close enough to see the next climber in the dark). Pitch black, the only light from our headlamps, I focused on the trail in front of me, staying in the footsteps of the climbers ahead. 

During the hour between Muir and our first rest stop I could feel my body start to relax and move into a rhythm. Step, step, move ice axe, breathe. Step, step, ice axe, breathe. The wind began to increase before we stopped, and we moved into the clouds full of moisture. On the steeper sections gusts of wind caused shots of adrenaline to course through my veins as I nearly stepped off the trail a few times. Wind roaring so loud for a moment, and then so silent and still I could almost hear my heart beating. Before I knew it we were at our first stop.

Resting up for the next section

Parka on, food and water out, sitting on my pack I watched the rest of our team pull into the rest stop as they wound the rope into coils between each climber. The weather was certainly worsening, wind increasing, and I was shivering in my many layers. I added another hat to the mix, and noticed that there were icicles in my hair from my sweat and the moisture in the air. Talk about brain freeze, no wonder my head was cold! (For your sake I won't get into the snot-sickles).

Cold, dark, shivering, but excited to be on the Mountain I absorbed as many calories and water as my angry gut would take (elevation wasn't helping an already semi-ill stomach). I heard guides and climbers talking about how it didn’t look like we would summit today. A few climbers decided to head back to Muir with a guide. I sat, evaluating my status. Could I make it to the next stop? Tired? Yes. Cold? For sure. But I couldn’t turn around quite yet. Not if it was safe to move on. Hoping I wouldn’t regret the decision we moved out for the next stretch.

Climbing from The Flats to the Top of Cleaver was no joke, especially with strong gusts of wind that hit like a 2x4. Thankful for the ice axe as another point of contact with the Mountain, we moved along and held on tight. Several times I saw our guide sway in the wind as well, which both made me nervous and also feel better about my own unsteady feet. The narrow trail switch-backed up the mountain, several spots clear of snow and we were climbing on ice-covered rock. Not the most stable feeling beneath one’s feet. The sound of crampon on rock grated on my ears as well. Pressure breathing frequently and sounding like a locomotive, I heard in my head “one step at a time, you can do this” I suddenly felt like the Little Engine that Could. This image kept me distracted as we clambered up the rock and snow. I was so distracted that I almost didn’t notice that it was getting lighter out and shadowy landscape was visable. 

When we arrived at the Top of Cleaver we were higher than any other point in Washington besides the rest of Rainier. Tired and cold and ready for a break we bundled up and sat to nourish and hydrate, shivering in the steady wind. As I shivered and ate I wondered again if I could go on and still descend safely. Could I stay warm in this weather? Tired, but determined, I felt that my body could handle a bit more and decided that if the guides continued on that I would join them up the Mountain. Besides, climbing down was always the scariest part to me and I didn’t want to face that yet.

Shortly after deciding this within myself the guides huddled together. I saw some head shaking and sensed this would be my personal summit this time. When they turned back to us it had been decided. It was unsafe to continue. Slightly sad, but also relieved that we would be headed back to a warm hut with hot tea, I shouldered my pack and joined the team back down. 

         Down. 

                            Down. 

Thinking of the difficult trail we had just ascended I felt anxiety rising. Down has always been my weaker point. I can climb and climb and climb, up and up and up, as long as we go slow-ish and have food and water breaks. Down gets to me though. Physically it is tougher on the knees. Mentally I often start to freeze up and don't want to take the next step. Now I’m roped to two other people who are traveling at a good pace, daylight has fully arrived and I can see just how steep the trail is and how far the drop-offs are. Once again I’m saying at each step; “You can do it, take this step, ok, now one more.” Slowly we make our way down the slope, still combating wind and snow. I can feel how tense my shoulders and legs are and try to relax. Each time I do the wind gusts again and I fear slipping down and taking the team with me. 

To the rocks. I remember the rocks from the way up, and have been dreading them since we turned around. Struggling in my mind with each step we continue on. The rope becoming taut often as I slow. Our guide calls out “Take the step Toni. Trust your crampons, they will hold.” And I almost cry. Isn’t that what it’s all about? Trust? He had hit right on my weakness. Repeating to myself; “Trust your gear. Trust your guide. Trust your team. Trust your training. Trust yourself.” we continued on. Trust. Being scared and unsure and taking the next step anyway. Letting go. Taking a step, letting my foot slide a bit, and trust that it will stop. Still nervous, but becoming braver, we made our way down.

Knees shaking and heart beating we came to the rest point. 

Fully light by now I gazed at the tents on the flats as we sat, glad that I had a hut to return to. 

After a short break we moved onto the Cowlitz again. Now that the worst of the downhill was over, and it was light out, I could pay attention to the landscape. Crevasses visible throughout the glacier. One running parallel to the trail and only about a foot or two away. Beautiful and deadly at the same time. Large snow and ice formations in the distance. 

Before long we arrived back at Muir. Glad to be back, but disappointed to not make the summit. Rope, harness, crampons, helmet all removed. Walking back into the hut, being greeted warmly by the climbers who had turned back earlier. Relieved to be out of the wind. Satisfied that I had gone as far as I could. No regrets. We took some time to warm up and rest before finishing the descent. 

A few hours of rest and we were more than ready to get back to Paradise and a hot shower. Still having a little trouble with downhill, I slowly made my way down in the wind and rain. Walking and glissading down we made good time and were able to rest up a bit before the celebration dinner.

When I looked at the Mountain, after the celebration dinner, it was completely clear; not a cloud in sight. I had to laugh--what a tease! You can’t fight the Mountain, it will always win. Thankful to have been a part of it all for a while, I returned inside where we told and re-told stories of the climb. What a blessing to have the celebration time, to process and share. It’s funny. I only met this group of people 4 days ago and I feel like we know each other so well. I guess that’s what working together and overcoming obstacles will do. 

Back at home it all seems so surreal. I’m glad for the photographs I was able to get to help remember. And I felt compelled to write it all down here before the details faded. Before I discounted the meaning of it all. Before I got caught up in “normal” life again. 

So that's my story. What a fantastic experience. Hope to go and be a part of the Mountain and try again to see the world from on top sometime soon.

Stairs; 10,000 feet; 4 Volcano Day; and a Walk by the River

To celebrate the two-weeks-till-Rainier milestone I apparently decided to thoroughly abuse my body and get it ready for it's upcoming climb. What a fantastic way to spend a weekend!

Friday evening after work I did some stair work with weight. This is actually a very boring activity, as you will soon see. Fill backpack with whatever you find at home to equal 50 pounds (water, cat litter, climbing gear, cans of beans, etc). Walk up 148 stairs. Walk down 148 stairs. Repeat for an hour. Pull hair out.

I-Pod Nano, you're my only hope . . . good tunes help so much. So, not the most exciting thing to do on a Friday night. However, stairs are a good way to get ready for this:

Ralph and Wendy on Mt. Hood

Climbing to 10,000 feet on Mt. Hood on Saturday! Previously my highest elevation hike brought me to 8,500 feet, so it was great to see how it feels higher up.

View from 10,000 feet

What a spectacular, fantastic, stunning, beautiful, fabulous, freakin' awesome day it was on the mountain (adjectives, I need more adjectives!). Clear skies, views for miles, fun climbing friends, great workout.

Such a warm day that the snow was soft underfoot, but that didn't slow us down much. Not an easy climb, but what a feeling to stand up so close to the summit and look down at the valley floor and across to Mt. Jefferson and the Sisters. Maybe it was the altitude getting to me, but it was somewhat euphoric. Good training for Rainier (mentally and physically), and also piqued my interest in a Hood summit sometime soon!
Ok, one more photo of that day, I just can't help myself.

Sigh, good times. Good times.

On Bald Butte looking toward Mt Hood

Before recovering from the altitude giddiness a couple of us decided to wake up bright and early Sunday and hike some more! Headed out past Hood River to Bald Butte trail. Beautiful views of Hood for much of the hike, and a few glimpses of Adams, Rainier, and St. Helens as well (making it a 4 volcano sighting day). Lots of beautiful wildflowers spotted along the trail. Hike was somewhat more challenging than planned, but we all made it and had a great time.

Clackamas River

Today, since it's the holiday and all, we took it a little easier and stuck with a decently flat 7 mile hike along the Clackamas River to Pup Creek Falls. We were blessed with yet another beautiful day and I greatly enjoyed strolling along beside the river.







 I continually am awed by how beautiful this area of the world is. How fantastic that all of these great places (and more!) are within a 2 hour drive. Loving it.

What to do after such a weekend of pushing my body to the limits? Although I feel surprisingly great after it all, it's taper time for sure. Plan to take it somewhat easy until the climb July 15-16. Coming up fast! It's kind of surreal that I will (weather and other factors willing) be soon standing on the top of Washington State! I've been dreaming of this since I was 5 or 6 years old, finally on my way to the top. Stay tuned for summit stories and photos soon!


Check it out! In my training I've done the equivalent of a Rainier Summit over 4 times! Must be time to head up and do it for real.

The Tally: 

Mt Rainier                          21.5 mi      9,000 ft elevation gain
Training Hikes So Far      100 mi        38,800 ft elevation gain

Don't stress the mess

Thoughts and observations on life that I'm sure have been made before, and will be made again.

Recently realizing anew that life is messy.
                                        At least GOOD life is messy.

We can have a fairly clean life, planned out, with i's dotted and t's crossed. Tempting for a semi-OCD Type-A person like myself. I'm drawn to order and neatness. An unmade bed or non-alphabetized bookcase has the potential to send me into a cleaning spree. Not a bad thing all the time, organization has it's place. However sometimes for me the spic-and-span can get in the way of real life. And is a way for me to pretend I have control over life (insert laugh here). And prevents me from taking risks.

Organized life is safe. Planning every step feels secure. Only doing what I'm good at limits that nagging sense of failure. Unknown can be frightening. Change difficult to get used to. Friendships are surely messy (anyone out there disagree with that one?). Risks are scary, failure a distinct possibility.

Do I want a safe and secure life though? Or do I want life stuffed with adventure and community! Knowing each step becomes boring. No-tolerance policy for mess negates true friendship. Taking a chance can reap rewards beyond the imagination. Relationships put the life into living. Mistakes and missteps are amazing teachers.

So when my insides shudder at piles of moving boxes at the office, or when my head aches just thinking of dirty dishes in the sink, or when I don't get a full 8-hours of sleep that was planned I'l try to remember:

Good life is messy.
                              And scary.
                                                  And exciting.
                                                                      And fulfilling.



Take a Deep Breath and get ready for an amazing messy life.

Top of Palmer

Only 32 days and counting until Mt Rainier climb!!! And on July 16th, sometime mid-morning I should be standing on the top of the Northwest! I can only hope for weather as beautiful as today's during our snowshoe trek on Mt Hood. We traveled from Timberline to the Top of Palmer (about 2,500 feet elevation gain). Now, I'll let the photos speak for themselves. 

View from the parking lot

From Timberline

 Below photograph is at the starting line for us. Look closely and you can see a black dotted line along the left side of the mountain--that is the ski lift. We hiked up to just above the end of that line.

Add caption

View from half-way up looking down to Timberline

View from the top

Such an incredible day! I feel so lucky to live close to such beauty.

On another good note: Pediatric Associates (where I work) was able to sponsor my climb! This means I did not have to put in any funds on my own. Such a blessing!



The Tally: 
Mt Rainier                          21.5 mi      9,000 ft elevation gain
Training Hikes So Far       79 mi     29,600 ft elevation gain