On Saturday, May 6, I returned to half marathon racing. It had been quite a hiatus, and my previous half marathon, was completed with a blown out IT band, so I did have to balance high hopes and realistic expectations. After all, a lot has changed since that last race. They say that age is just a number, and by that logic, a half marathon is just miles. 13.1 long and hilly miles in this case, and now officially in the next decade of my life. Yeah, yeah, just a number. Last year, still in my 30s, I toyed with the idea of returning to racing and with running the Door County Half Marathon. We were in Peninsula State Park for our annual Mother’s Day weekend, and the race was taking place. It seemed like the perfect opportunity to get back to some really good training. Our plan - always - is to be in Door County for our Mother’s Day celebration, so why not sign up?! Well, back to numbers. Two children, one partner, too many hours at work each week, one bike ride/race to each weekend, an...
Sometimes you have those days that turn out to be so very different than you expected them to be. Wednesday was one of those days. We welcomed houseguest Tuesday evening, and I thought I might do a bit of climbing with them in the morning, but then I expected to return to my typical routine - take a hike/go for a run, do some work and head to the gym for some evening climbing with Brian. Instead, we decided to solo the Second Flatiron, a six-hundred or so foot climb up one of Boulder's most notable landmarks. To the best of my recollection, I have not soloed anything before (read: climb without a rope or protection/gear). The only part that unnerved me, however, was the 'jump.' This was a point where, along the climb, you are required to leap across a divide in the rocks. I decided the benefits outweighed the cost/risk/fear, and I joined Brian, Alex and Cait, our houseguest, and Josh, another Sconnie native and AdRock climber living the d...
This past weekend, we celebrated my dad’s 30 years of service to and retirement from the Mukwonago Fire Department. As both a volunteer fire fighter and EMT, he has spent several decades in service of others. During what surely was one of their most trying times, it was my dad who was with people he’d never met and likely wouldn’t see again. To do that on top investing in full-time work, his family, and his other interests is simply remarkable. And that’s my dad: a driven, generous, passionate man. The Mukwonago Fire Department was a part of my youth. The men and women he served with became my dad’s second family, and thus they were there for many of my milestones. My weekends were were filled with various events hosted by MFD, including community events and that one family picnics that ended with Dad getting stitches. Sometimes my weekends - and weeknights - were also filled with quick goodbyes as another call pulled Dad away from our family plans. The sound of his pager and the ...
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