Yogi Magee Expeditions goes to Telluride

Telluride, Colorado. Ever since I saw pictures of this town in a wedding magazine 5 years ago I’ve been drawn to this town. It’s where I wanted to get married but couldn’t due to logistics and cost. The first time I ever stepped foot in the town in fact was about two years after I’d first been drawn to the place. We had gone to Ouray for the annual ice climbing festival and decided to take a side trip to Telluride to cross country ski and have lunch. I remember being enchanted by the unpretentious houses, the endless piles of snow and the cross country ski trail that ran along the river. My friends had a dog with them which we were able to take up the free gondola into mountain village and we walked around the base of the mountain while I sipped a chai from the steaming bean. I wouldn’t be back to Telluride until a year ago when again, we visited as a side trip from the Black Canyons of Gunnison National Forest. Telluride was in the off season so a lot of shops were closed and the gondola wasn’t running. It was almost a ghost town but I was still in love with the place. Seeing the mountains at the end of town, blocking it in and making it the box canyon it is just makes the town feel safe to me. I know Black Bear pass runs down the mountain from Silverton but it’s a very difficult one way only road and it feels as if Telluride is the end of the line there. The town ends at Bridal Veil and Ingram Falls and there’s nowhere to go but up. A little piece of my heart has always been here and somehow it feels like home.

first time in the T-ride

 

a few years later with miss charlotte

Seven months ago an idea came to me. The yoga studio I teach at has run several retreats, a few of which I have been on but I’ve never had the opportunity to teach at one. Somehow I had it in my head that because I’d never been asked as a teacher on any of their retreats that I wasn’t good enough. I watched as other teachers had their turn in the spotlights and I waited hoping my turn would be next. I realized I placed a lot of stock in my value as a teacher on not being asked to join in and I felt like perhaps my turn would never come. So I decided I needed to put myself out there and see what would happen. Why couldn’t I lead my own retreat?

 Anyone that knows me knows I have a passion for hiking. I’ve summited 34 of Colorado’s 58 14,000 foot peaks and I consider hiking one of my greatest strengths. I’ve taken people up their first 14ers, I’ve organized camping trips for myself and large groups of my friends. I wanted to combine my passion for teaching yoga with hiking in a way that was affordable and accessible to a smaller group of people. This retreat I had in mind would challenge people’s minds as well as their bodies and it wouldn’t be for someone who wasn’t adventurous in heart. This retreat would be about everyone staying in one spot with me, their guide and mentor…someone who was accessible and who could be trusted. I didn’t want a disconnect from the group from one another or from me I wanted us to all be in this together. Seven months ago I dreamed a vision of what this retreat would be and all roads led to Telluride. Telluride had to be the place…the home…the beginning and the end.

Honestly I had no idea if my plan was crazy or not. To take a friend on a hike was one thing, to teach a yoga class was another. To take strangers on a journey on and off their mat was a new challenge entirely and how could I be sure I was ready? I had a lot of interest at first but no definite commitments. So I promoted and I networked, I bought ads on social media and I talked about the retreat to anyone who would listen. I had one person sign up…then two. I rented a space for 14 so I needed at least 3 just to put a deposit down. There were moments where I thought perhaps I’d have to cancel because I didn’t have enough out of pocket to cover the rest of the house in case no one else signed up.

But, like the famous quote from Field of Dreams says, if you build it they will come.

August 21^st 2014 marked the launch of Yogi Magee Expeditions Retreat in Telluride. Having 12 women arrive from all over Colorado and cities outside our state was a huge moment for me. The day before everyone arrived I sat at the Floradora, the same restaurant I’d visited on my first trip to Telluride, and marveled at what I had created. Women were coming to my retreat to explore, be inspired, practice yoga and challenge themselves physically and mentally. I honestly could not have asked for a better group of women. From my assistant Stephanie to the 12 personalities…it seemed everyone got along like they had always known one another. There was rain and cold and the weather forced us inside for yoga more than I would have liked and yet they all kept smiling. Some had injuries and others suffered from the altitude on the first hike but they all persevered. We had moments of meditation and quiet and we had moments of laughter in the hot tub with glasses of wine after a long day. None had been to Telluride and I saw them witness the magic of the small former mining town just as I had many years ago. They were in awe of the mountains and the Via Ferrata. They took pictures of the wildflowers and played in the waterfalls. I saw these women meditate, journal, make connections with new people, try new restaurants, be by themselves and explore and grow strong in their practice and hiking. I know the hikes we did were not easy for some of them but all of them made it to Blue Lake which was the apex of our journey. I took a wrong turn on the trail and got us off track about 15 minutes but they never lost their faith in me or the journey. In fact one of the girls turned to me and said in that moment, “Even if we don’t make it to the lake…it’s OK.” And at that moment I realized it really was because I was, and we were all, exactly where we were supposed to be.

 

Most times after a trip is over I am sad to leave. I have depression when a vacation comes to an end because I want to live in that moment of happiness forever. This trip was different. It was so fulfilling in so many ways that when it ended I wasn’t sad to say good-bye. We ended our trip with yoga on top of Telluride Mountain after taking the gondola I had first taken so many years ago and the moment was perfect. The clouds were starting to part, the sun was shining and there wasn’t a breeze in the sky while we practiced yoga. When we meditated at the end I could hear the buzz of the bees, the chirping of birds and the quiet breathing of those 12 women around me. Our time together had come to an end but it didn’t really feel like the end to me. When we opened our eyes it felt like a new beginning in which anything from there on out was possible. Just as the clouds and fog lifted from the mountains, so too it lifted from each of us and there was nothing but blue skies to come. I know in that moment I felt stronger, lighter and happier than I had in a long time. There was no sadness in my heart…only happiness for the next chapter.

 

 

 

 

In hindsight the universe provided exactly what I had needed. Had I been asked to teach at another retreat I don’t know if I would have ever thought to put something like this together. I wouldn’t have had the courage to go out on my own and design a retreat that was truly a labor of love from my heart. To share my passion and teachings of yoga is a gift but to be able to guide people on a trail in the great wide open is my dharma. I loved being the guide and leader for the weekend and having people trust me so they could enjoy the beauty of Colorado around them. Telluride is now a piece of their story and hearts as much as it is in mine and that makes it all worth it to me.

A few years ago I said I would never hike the same 14er twice. I firmly believed that once you hiked a mountain once there was no point in doing it again. Last year I hiked Bierstadt in the winter with my husband and it was a totally different experience than hiking it in the summer alone. The mountain that I had known had changed because I had changed. The terrain was the same yet different with every step as I approached each switchback with new eyes and a different stronger body. Some people might be content with doing things only once and never again because in reality they don’t want to admit that the only constant in life is change. I will be back to Telluride and it will be different because I’ll be different. The hikes will be different because the land and weather will change. We’ll climb new heights, practice new asanas and meet new friends in one of the most amazing towns I’ve ever known.

I cannot wait to return to Telluride for a retreat in 2015.

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Five years of Marriage

A few weeks ago my husband and I celebrated our five year anniversary. When I measure the time in years it doesn’t seem like that much has passed. If I measured it in months, weeks or minutes it might seem a lot longer. What I remember of our time being married however, isn’t the days themselves it’s the way we’ve filled them. We’ve traveled across the world from Thailand to ride elephants to snorkel with sting rays in Belize. We’ve rented, we’ve bought and we’ve sold houses and acquired and thrown away belongings in-between. We’ve had a cat die and adopted a new one, quit jobs and started new ones. Our friends have come and gone and we’ve gained almost as much as we’ve lost over the past years. We had a daughter named Charlotte and it changed everything from how early we go to bed to how we spend our weekends. Life is the same as it ever was and yet different. Everything and nothing has changed in the same time.

 

I was asked to write a blog on what makes a marriage last five years. I thought on this for a few weeks. I’m not perfect so my marriage will never be and I believe marriage is a choice you make every day. When I thought about my marriage and my husband and about the reoccurring theme that’s popped up in my life lately the only word that comes to mind is patience.

Patience, to me, is the key to a sustainable relationship.

The same weekend of our anniversary a few friends and I went back to hike Mt. of the Holy Cross. It was a 14er I had previously written about not being able to summit due to weather and time constraints. One of my hiking companions was attempting this as her first 14er and it was not an easy beginner climb for her. None of the 14ers are easy mountains to hike but this one was 12 miles roundtrip in length, had swarms of mosquitos everywhere and 5,600 feet of elevation gain. Her struggle became my struggle as I guided her to the top and back down. It’s hard to watch someone have difficulty with something that has become so second nature to yourself. I feel the same way when I have beginners in my yoga class. I want them to enjoy the asanas and the message and the feeling they get from pushing themselves beyond what they think is their limit. Yet beginners require patience from me and from themselves in order to continue to learn and grow. It’s a relationship of trust and understanding. There’s a lot of give and take to teaching anyone a skill that you are still mastering yourself. I can tell you that the three of us hiking learned a lot about patience that day and how it extends beyond yourself and to those around you. There were times when I am sure we all wanted to give up on ourselves and each other but we never considered that an option. You can’t just quit hiking a mountain because it gets hard especially once you’re so far into it that turning around isn’t really any better an option than marching ahead. To cultivate patience in a situation that challenges every fiber of your being is to allow the ego to step aside and lead with your heart.

My friends and I ultimately summited Mt. of the Holy Cross that Saturday much in the same way my husband and I reached our five year milestone. There was struggle, there was excitement, and there was hard word and ultimately reward for continuing on the path. Patience for each other as we walked the same path together yet experiencing different emotions along the way. When I reach the summit of a mountain it’s reaching a goal and a milestone for me and I’m temporarily happy yet I know the journey isn’t over yet. There are still many more mountains to climb and much more to learn along the way. Patience is what allows me to continue to bring new people to the wilderness and open their eyes to the beauty of the mountains and it’s what’s reinforced the journey that is marriage.

Ultimately Chad is my ideal partner on and off the mountain. There are times when he’s ahead and he has to have the patience to wait for me to catch up and there are times when I’m in the lead. There have been obstacles in the path and both of us have gotten the other lost thinking the direction we were headed was best. Sometimes on our journey we’ve taken breaks when the struggle proves to be too much; other times we move so quickly we barely take in the outside world. Unfortunately in marriage there is no map of where you are supposed to go or any reports on how the terrain will be along the way. It’s mostly, what we call in mountain speak – bush wacking which is a fancy name for creating your own path when there is none. Patience is how we survive when we think we are otherwise lost. Chad and I don’t need to see any people on our path to know we’re heading the way that’s right for us because in the end that is all that really matters. Like any companion we have our share of arguments as well as times of love. We cheer each other on and we know when to give tough love. Chad is the partner who keeps me safe while allowing me to find my own way. There’s a freedom that comes with being patient with one another. You surrender the ego and to the journey and really just hope for the best that all this effort will eventually lead you to where you want to be.

Ultimately a good marriage is like a good hiking partner (and if you are lucky like me they are one in the same). It’s a relationship with someone you trust, someone you can spend large amounts of time alone with and someone who pushes you to be the best version of yourself. Marriage is sometimes letting the other person take the lead even if they aren’t the expert and allowing them to struggle and grow alongside you. Just when you think the journey is over you find out it’s really just beginning and there are many more adventures and experiences you have yet to discover. Marriage isn’t for everyone…after all some people enjoy walking the path alone. Yet I can say from my experience its far better knowing someone is waiting ahead for me, than wandering the forest alone.

Open letter of apology....now I know!

Before I became a flight attendant the only thing I knew about them was that they served drinks and peanuts. My access to seeing one in person was limited to the three or four flights I’d ever taken in my life and then the once or twice I’d see them during said flight. I thought the job was easy, something that required little skill and a love of traveling. Three weeks of training and over 9 years of flying thousands of flights has proved me wrong. I guess my takeaway from my previous school of thought was you never really know what a job entails until you’ve tried it on for size yourself. So to all those flight attendants whose job I thought was solely to cater to me when I needed a frosty beverage, I’m sorry.

While I’m apologizing here’s a list of other women whose jobs I took for a cakewalk: stay-at-home moms, working moms, single moms and married moms. At one point or another I’ve been all of these things and none of them are easy roles. Perhaps the women who do them make it look easy but I can assure you, behind the Instagram and facebook photos it’s not. I’m sorry for ever thinking it was.

To the stay-at-home mom, I once wondered what the hell you did all day. I never quite understood how anyone who had the privilege of staying home with their kids (and to me it was a privilege not to have to punch a time card) could possibly complain. I believed your days were filled with trips to the zoo and swims at the pool. I thought it unfair you were able to nurse whenever you wanted without the annoyance of finding a time and place to pump because you never had to leave your baby at home. Your home cooked meals, strawberry picking and story time at the library days were the envy of someone who could barely find time to shower, get to work and make sure enough milk/baby food was in stock for the daycare or nanny. Though I fly and teach yoga and fitness I also have days where I have nothing scheduled for work and I find myself planning my idyllic stay-at-home-mom day. “I’m going to get so much done,” I think. Maybe I’ll even cook dinner.

Reality is I’m putting out small fires all day. When Charlotte was an infant my days consisted of feeding and diaper changing and maybe shaving my legs or putting on makeup. Now that she’s older it’s like having a tornado in the house. I put laundry in the washer and she’s playing in the toilet. I clean up breakfast mess and she’s fallen down and crushed a handful of crackers into the carpet. I vacuum and she’s climbing up the stairs. We go to play in her room and every book comes off the shelf. Time for a diaper change (which is kind of like trying to stick a cat in a bathtub if you want to know) and then naptime rolls around (FINALLY!). If she doesn’t nap at home I have a cranky baby but if she does I’m on house arrest for 2-3 hours where I take the time to get her lunch ready, maybe get myself ready and if I’m lucky practice some yoga. Once the princess wakes up it’s back to waiting on her hand and foot and before I know it the husband is at home wondering, “What did you do all day?”

Staying at home with your child means you get nothing and everything done all at once. It’s a blur of cleaning, feeding, soothing a crying baby and in-between trying to teach them something educational so they aren’t completely inept. It’s exhausting and I salute those of you who have more than one child and that is your daily existence.

When you stay at home, working seems a little glamorous. You are nobody’s mom for the hours you are at work and you don’t have snot stains all over your clothing and yogurt in your hair. When I’d work with people that had kids I use to think to myself, “this must be such a nice break for you to get out of the house!” It is, to an extent. When I’m working I sometimes feel like I’m on a mini vacation. I leave to teach yoga and I can linger after class with my students and talk uninterrupted. When I’m flying I can eat lunch whenever I want, eat what I want and don’t have to worry about bath time and the only person I have to put to sleep is myself. Yet who always shows up at your door while you’re working? Guilt.

I’ll admit the guilt was far worse when Charlotte was under a year old. When I wasn’t with her I was tethered to my pump and I’d constantly worry that I’d left her without enough food to survive. I mentally counted the hours until I’d be home from flying, teaching or working out as if the less I was gone the better mother I’d be. Paying a nanny to do my “job” seemed asinine yet we couldn’t afford for me not to work. I’d have a sinking feeling each time I left the house without Charlotte and I started to resent my job for taking me away from her. Why did I have to work when other women didn’t? It never seemed fair. From pumping in bathrooms, to staying up late to make lunches for school, organizing backpacks and keeping a calendar just so you know who’s picking up who…I truly admire all working moms out there. Dealing with a tiny boss then going out into the world and dealing with an adult boss is no small feat.

My husband is on call once every 7 weeks and for that week he can be called in to his job anytime day or night. Since I’m usually the one flying nights, he’s gotten in the habit of taking care of Charlotte when she wakes up in the morning. By the time I come home in the morning she’s been changed, fed and is usually back down for a nap which makes my mornings pretty easy. I try to sneak a nap in so I’ll be well rested for the following night of flying. When Chad’s on call though I have to stay home from flying so that someone is there when and if he gets called in the middle of the night. So there are days when I play single mom and I’m with Charlotte from the time she wakes up until sometimes the hour she goes to bed. I realize just how much my husband does and how easy this is to take for granted until you are alone with your child. If you’ve ever had your spouse leave for a day, week or longer you know exactly what I mean. One weekend Chad flew back to Michigan because his grandmother was ill and I didn’t even leave the house and ordered enough pizza to last me through the weekend. When you are alone with your child there’s no one to pass them off to when they are crying, no one to clean up dinner while you start the bath, no one to watch them at the pool when you want to take a dip in and no one to pick up a pack of diapers on the way home. You become excellent at multi-tasking however and become acutely aware of just how much free help is around if you ask. We don’t have family that lives in town so our friends have become ever important in assisting us when necessary. I inherently knew being a single mother wasn’t easy but I’ll admit there were moments in the beginning when Chad and I would argue about Charlotte and how we thought she should be taken care of…and the thought occurred to me, “this would be easier alone.” Sometimes raising a baby seemed like riding a horse and there were two people trying to sit in the saddle and steer with both thinking their direction was right.

One of my greatest take-a-ways from becoming a parent is that everything seems easier when you aren’t the one doing the job. There is always that sense that someone else has it better than we do or that if we were the ones in the saddle we’d be able to do it better. Our perceptions are skewed because we only see what others want us to see which is often barely a glimpse into their daily lives. Most days between three jobs, one child, keeping house and a husband, I’m barely keeping my head above water. Anytime we take on another role in life I think this becomes the case.

So let’s just all admit that really we’re doing the best we can and the fact is no one has it easy.

Flight attendants don’t just serve cokes….they’re there to save your ass if and when you ever need it….and I’d like to think moms, all types of moms, are the same way.  

Should we go back to the trenches again?

Almost a year has passed since I took the pregnancy test that would change my life. A text message to my best friend of, “WTF is THIS?! Don’t tell a soul!” with a picture of two positive tests was how I announced how I felt. I kept it secret from my husband for a week before I said anything. I wasn’t sure how to feel, and all I really felt was an impending sense of “my life as I know it is over.”

39 weeks

Fast forward fifteen months and I’m comfortably living in my new normal. Charlotte is walking, learning new words every day and amazes me just as much as she frustrates. She’s at the age where we, as parents, are finally starting to feel like we have some freedom back. The stage where we are no longer breastfeeding but eating solids, walking around, not having blow out diapers and taking naps on a regular schedule. We can leave the house a little bit faster and don’t have to pack everything but the kitchen sink to do so. We feel alright about leaving her with a babysitter and don’t worry every second that we are gone. As Charlotte has grown so have my husband and I and we can’t help but marvel at what we created.

at one year old

Which begs the question, “Is it time to ruin all our newfound freedom?”

Having a second baby. It’s something that people have asked us if we are “having” like it’s a question of what to eat for dinner. “Are you having a second baby?” “Any thoughts on having more?”

What people are really be saying is, “You both look like you are still having too much fun in your lives, isn’t it time you surrendered the thought of ever being or doing anything cool again?”

So here’s the truth, yes I’ve thought about it. I think about it all the time. Not so much the having another baby part but the actual pregnancy. I am in the phase where many of my friends are pregnant for the first time and I’m waiting and watching the excitement they are going through. If you’ve read my other blogs you know I really never had a desire to be pregnant. Yes I knew I wanted a baby at some point but it wasn’t what my heart desired most in this world. Some women are born to be moms and they seek their joy in being pregnant. Before having my baby, I was in the take it or leave it mindset. If it happened to me, great and if not, I wouldn’t have been too upset with my body. Now, however, after having gone through it, knowing the process of pregnancy and how my body responds to being pregnant and labor I find myself missing it. It’s the same feeling I get when I see people that have climbed mountains I’ve already summited. I’m happy for them, I can relate because I’ve been on that journey and part of me wishes I was there with them myself.

Here comes the part where I must remind myself not to romanticize pregnancy. Putting your body through carrying a baby is a lot of stress. There was the heartburn, round ligament pain and sciatica nerve pain shooting through my right leg. My skin broke out, I had to pee all the time and of course there was the frustration of not fitting into anything I owned. I couldn’t do backbends in yoga or race mode in spin. I couldn’t twist, rock climb, water ski, snow ski or run. In the beginning I was nauseated all the time and at the end I couldn’t keep anything down because there was no room. Flying and staying in hotel rooms was awful as I could never find comfort to sleep and standing all day made my feet swell. I hated waddling and having people stare at me. Now I’m the one who finds myself staring at pregnant women. I remember what that was like and part of me misses it.

one day old, she was pretty snuggly then

I guess what I really miss was the secret of it all. How no one knew in the beginning and even at the end no one could really feel the baby kick or move but myself. I miss hearing her heartbeat at the midwife appointments and the anticipation of what she’d be like. Now that Charlotte is here she is so wonderful and amazing but I don’t have her with me 24 hours a day like before. She’s becoming more independent and sometimes waves my hand or help away. For the first 8 months all she wanted was pretty much me and to be breastfed and now she’ll let strangers hold her and she literally laughs if I show her my boobs (she’s over it). Charlotte is not me, she’s not my husband, she’s her own person with her own opinions about hummus and climbing stairs and sitting still.

Yet one is easy. One means biking to breweries on Saturday afternoons and eating from food trucks. One means having a babysitter for concerts at Red Rocks and hopping on planes around the country. One means I can focus on my business, Yogi Magee Expeditions and plan retreats and hikes for the future and make money. One means we can buy a two bedroom house and still afford vacations and treating ourselves. One means I can teach yoga and 5am bootcamp and afternoons at the pool. We have climbed our mountain and are enjoying the view from the summit…do we really want to climb back down and up all over again?

Maybe is all I can say. Who knows if we will even be able to climb again even if we want to? In mountaineering hesitation leads to accidents and bad decisions. So maybe we sit at the top and wait for a while and enjoy the view. It’s truly a wonderful view. Yet I still feel a little jealous of the climbers below on their quest….and you know what?

That’s OK.

Mt. of the Holy Cross attempt - the universe says otherwise

Ever since my first 14er climb in 2010 I have had a mild obsession with hiking all of Colorado’s peaks over 14,000 feet (of which there are 58). This personal goal and journey is one I can only begin to attempt when the temperature rises and snow melts here in the high country. When I first began to hike I took signs to the top to hold for my summit photo. I quickly realized I did not need this addition as I remember every peak and every climb based on who I’ve hiked with and the challenges I’ve faced. Hiking in the high country is my happy place, somewhere I can go to decompress and unwind. There is no greater feeling to me than packing my car full of gear, filling up the camelbacks, shopping for the perfect trail food and driving off to the land of no cell service and tent sleeping. As I whittled down the list of peaks I also ran through my hiking partners. Some friends had finished all their 14ers and weren’t interested in hiking them twice while others were content with one big hike a year. My husband at one time would humor me and join but after the birth of Charlotte he found the perfect excuse to stay home.

Mt. of the Holy Cross was my first selection to hike this year due to its close proximity to Denver and relatively easy terrain and short distance. I have only three 14ers left in the Sawatch range and the other two are Harvard and Columbia which are a combined hiking trek that would make for a very long day in even the best conditions. Running out of hiking partners, I needed someone who would be willing to join me that wouldn’t shy away from a challenge. Someone strong enough mentally to hike 11 miles yet easy enough to talk to and share a 2 man tent with. I needed someone with a flexible schedule who could leave on a weekday and who didn’t mind letting me take the lead climbing. My friend Margaret was the perfect fit.

 

Margaret and I are both yoga and fitness instructors. We actually met at the training center we both teach at currently. Yoga teachers make the best hiking companions because they are fit, easy going, and take challenges in stride. We also have a pretty rooted belief in the universe and how it will not only provide for you but also give you signs for what is to be. In theory these signs would be pretty straightforward and ones we would acknowledge and follow. Our Mt. of the Holy Cross hike was full of signs from the beginning…yet the stubbornness inside us both refused to listen.

It started with the gate to the road being locked. I pride myself on checking weather and trail conditions and being up to speed down to the cairns to spot on every mountain I climb yet there was nothing about Tigiwon road being closed. We arrived at the gate at 9pm after a late start (another sign) and decided we might as well get to hiking the road to the trailhead. The road was 8 miles which would add an extra 16 to an already 11 mile round trip hike. Our intended plan had been to hike in from the trailhead and camp overnight in order to attempt an early summit push. Obviously this was not ideal but we set out on the road and walked in the dark for 3.5 hours. There’s something both beautiful and frightening about hiking alone in the wilderness underneath the stars. At 12:45am we finally called it and pitched our tent which we could not get properly set up (another sign) and settled in for three hours of sleep.

Friday was beautiful. The weather was perfect and the trail conditions started out fantastic. The grade was gradual and we enjoyed the sunrise and the sounds of nature all around us. In the woods there’s no cell phones to distract you, no traffic or too many people around. You can really enjoy someone’s company and get to know them with each and every step. Sometimes there’s just silence too and it’s not awkward it’s refreshing. Margaret is probably one of the fastest people I’ve hiked with and she stayed close behind me for pretty much the whole journey as our dogs trotted together in front of us. Somewhere along 11,700 feet however the snow on the trail began to pick up and it got harder to find our way. Mosquitos were horrible and any time we tried to stop and check the compass or map we’d be eaten alive. I had brought bug spray but the canister wouldn’t spray right (thanks universe!) leaving us at the mercy of nature. We punched through snow drifts that were waist high and kicked steps into others to avoid sliding down the mountain as we traversed. Somewhere in the trees the trail became impossible to see and there were no foot prints to follow anymore. No one had been back there yet it seemed and if they had they left no trace. I lost my camera at one point when I set my pack down and it rolled away. Signs, signs, everywhere signs and we couldn’t read them. Wouldn’t read them. We wanted to keep going as we knew the summit was only a few miles away but we had no choice but to make the call to turn around.

At 10am after about 12 miles of hiking we made the decision to head back for the car. The mountain would always be there but if we kept going and got lost there was no guarantee we would return safely if ever. People call the holy cross wilderness the Bermuda triangle because hikers have died back there getting lost. One man who disappeared during the summer was only located from tent remains the following year. We didn’t want to be a statistic so we finally listened to the universe and began the long journey back to the car.

A year or two ago I don’t think my ego would have allowed this type of decision. I have always reached the summit of each peak I climbed but I won’t say there weren’t bad decisions made doing so. My ego has always been bigger than my fear and it’s constantly urged me forward on and off the mountain. Now that I have a child though things are different. I realize life is not just about me and I can’t let my decisions ruin someone else’s life. Our egos can often get the best of us and lead to decisions we ultimately regret. It’s what gets people trapped on ledges on high peaks they can’t climb down, it’s what causes a bulging disk in the neck from lifting too heavy, it’s what makes us feel like superman for a moment but flat on our faces the next.

At 4pm after 26 miles of hiking and no summit, Margaret and I made it back to the car. We didn’t have a summit under our belts but it didn’t matter. This hike made me realize that this truly was about the journey and not the destination. We didn’t blame each other, the weather, the mountain or the snow. We chalked it up to experience and enjoyed the fact that at 10am on a Friday morning we were hiking where no one else was instead of sitting behind an office desk. We saw and experienced things most people never in their lifetime see or get to do and for us that was enough for the day. We made plans and the universe had others and that’s just how life can be sometime. You can be angry or grateful for the lesson.

The best part is we get to go back again in July and experience the mountain for a second time. I never hike mountains twice because I have so many other peaks to obtain….but I guess the universe wants me to see this one again.

This time I’ll be listening.

 

 

 

 

The addiction of Social Media

Best friends, I have a confession...I am addicted to facebook. I guess if you truly know me this will come as no shock. It is so much a part of my life that it's the first thing I check when I get up in the morning and the last thing I check before I go to sleep. My husband once bet me $100 that I could not go without the social media site for a week because that's how deep he saw my addiction. The promise of a $100 Lululemon shopping spree was enough to motivate me to win the bet but that was a tough week. I deleted the application on my phone and deactivated my account so there could be no temptation and channeled my energy into texting and calling friends instead. Remember when we use to call and talk to our friends and share our news? If something good or bad happened in our lives, our closest friends and family would know first because they would be at the top of our call list. Now everything, and I mean everything, hits facebook first BEFORE our eyes and ears.

The ability to reach a large audience with news in an instant is both a blessing and a curse. In my opinion it is ruining our lives and our relationships.

My sister sent me this blog story the other day that highlights the worst case scenario for instant news: http://keepcalmandhaveacosmo.blogspot.com/2014/03/racing-facebook-new-challenge-for.html The writer of the blog discusses how a woman named Theresa Jones found out via facebook that her husband Landon, a helicopter pilot, died in a crash on deployment. Before the Causality Assistance Call Officers could even reach her doorstep she discovered postings on facebook that tipped her off to the fact her husband had been involved in a crash and ultimately did not survive. Can you imagine the horror? Because friends were so eager to share information and offer their condolences they had posted links to information about the crash. They probably assumed if the information were readily available to them that this man's wife and family already knew as well. Social media has given us a way to tweet, blog and facebook post in real time about things that may have only happened seconds or minutes before. We have become accustomed to passing on information and sharing so much that we don't even stop to think if the information is ours to share.

When my baby was born I had a list of friends I wanted to share pictures and news with before posting anything on facebook. We had waited to find out the gender so I was especially eager to share the name and details. The day after Charlotte was born I decided I wanted to make an announcement on facebook and saw someone had posted on my site a congratulations for having a girl. I had not said anything about being in labor or having delivered my baby except to those I had called and texted so I was furious. Luckily I was able to delete the post before anyone saw so I could release the information myself. I know the congratulations was well intentioned but it was my news to share first and I didn't want anyone to steal my moment. This was precisely why I announced my pregnancy so early on because I didn't want the excitement of me announcing to be taken away by anyone else who knew.

I found out my very best friends baby was born on facebook before I even got a text from her because a mutual friend posted something about it first. From deaths to births, break-ups, engagements, wedding photos, surprise parties and even new romances...it seems nothing is immune from being shared via social media these days. My husband maintains that if one chooses to be a part of social media than the risk you are taking is that you will have something revealed to you or about you that you didn't authorize. While I agree to an extent, I also believe that if it isn't your news don't share it.

Repeat after me friends, "I will not share news that isn't mine to share." There. You've just saved yourself from the fall out of any and every relationship you deem valuable. When you see a friend with a sparkly new diamond ring on THAT finger in yoga class, don't go home and write on her facebook, "Congratulations!" when you see no one else has said anything. Perhaps she hasn't had time to call her aunt yet who just happens to be on facebook as well. Don't twitter about your best friend's desire for lime popsicles means she has to be pregnant if she hasn't told you herself. If you really want to congratulate someone or ask a question about the status of their life why not just call them? Or better yet, wait until they tell you themselves. When I was pregnant I really disliked friends early on asking if I was pregnant because I wasn't drinking or staying out late, etc. If I wanted to broadcast the news I would in my own time and it put me in an awkward spot to either lie or swear them to secrecy.

So my friends, how has social media ruined your lives or at the very least your day? Have you ever had an unflattering photo of yourself posted at a birthday party you didn't want anyone knowing you were attending? Did you tell your mom you couldn't come visit because you weren't feeling well only to have your friend "tag" you out at the brewery with them? While information sharing has its perks and can alert us to danger, highway conditions or work closures, it can also cause a lot of heartache and anxiety. So the next time you have the urge to share ask yourself, "Is this MY news to tell? Does it benefit anyone from hearing this from me as opposed to the source?" If not, let's follow the elementary school rules of keeping to ourselves.

Motherhood as a competitive sport

For all my childless friends out there, I'm going to let you in on a little secret I had no idea about until I had a baby. It's a secret most mothers know but few will admit too. You've probably bared witness to it from the outside but had no idea how deep the iceberg went underneath the surface. Men don't understand it and balk at it. I tried to resist myself but have gotten swept away with the tide when I went over board.

Yes my friends....motherhood is a competitive sport.

I suppose it all begins with the pregnancy. Social media has exploited every last shred of our privacy so there's the pressure to make some grandiose announcement that you are expecting. Then comes the baby shower which, thanks to the Kardashians, has turned into more of an expectation for a huge party complete with gift bags rather than some tea and cake celebrating the mom-to-be. I'll admit I wanted the Pinterest perfect baby shower complete with a signature drink and monogrammed napkins but that just wasn't reality. After the baby's born then there's the "baby's here" announcement to which you must post a photo that's both timely and creative and nowadays - professional. With the introduction of professional birth photographers, there's the opportunity to have the biggest day of your lives documented to share with who else but your hundred closest friends and family. You don't even have to be camera ready...that's what blurred effects and photoshop are for.

Once upon a time, "keeping up with the joneses" meant professional landscaping and having a nice car in the driveway. We compared ourselves with our friends and neighbors but only to the point of what we could outwardly see. We didn't have a glimpse inside the private moments that we do now. Today we see everything from how many presents our frenemy in high school bought her child for Christmas to what our neighbors five year old birthday party was like. Social media has allowed us to share and overshare and consequentially has simultaneously lowered our self esteem and raised our expectations.

Let me tell you friends, the other mothers out there are fierce competitors. Seeing professional photos of other newborns led me to believe I too needed to pay for this luxury. And it is a luxury I must say. When I was born my parents took a few polaroid's and called it a day. Apparently however there's a deadline for when said newborn photos should be taken and at four weeks, my baby was past her baby modeling prime. The result was less than stellar pictures that made me feel horrible and my bank account sad. Never mind that I had taken about 300 other photos with my perfectly nice camera, in comparison I had failed my first duty as a new mom- professionally document life.

So I tried my best to keep up to this self imposed standard of being a good mom. We bought costumes and took photos at the pumpkin patch. We sat on Santa's lap and paid $40 for the "first Christmas" package. Charlotte had a professionally monogrammed stocking and I tried my best to fill it with baby appropriate toys. I tried my hand at making my own baby food, blogged about the major milestones saved every card and note Charlotte received to put into the baby book. Everything I saw other moms do that seemed like a "good mom thing to do" I did. I thought, if I could just have what the other moms had and do what the other moms did I might actually be considered good enough to join the ranks.

Charlotte's first birthday party was my moment to redeem myself from my shortcomings through the year. I hired a party planner and caterer and almost had a photographer come as well. Almost. My husband didn't understand why we needed to do one year photos or have a cake for Charlotte that was specifically for smashing in said photos. "Why are we doing this again?" he asked over and over. "What is the point?"

That's a question I started to internalize after Charlotte's birthday once I regained my sanity. What indeed is the point in trying to keep up with other moms? What is the use in comparing? If our child's birthday party isn't Pinterest worthy are they still loved? Do we ever do enough? The answer, I have found, is that we will always fall short when we start to compare and to compete. As Theodore Roosevelt once said, "Comparison is the thief of joy." With social media I had been able to get a glimpse into the life of mother's around me and everyone it seemed was on a mission to outdo one another. So I have decided that from this point forward I would try and take myself out of the game and instead love and celebrate my child in a way that benefits us both.

Because no one sees the things that truly make us wonderful moms. People don't post pictures of themselves reading to their children at night or cleaning up vomit from the carpet from a sick baby. Friends don't share late night breast feeding sessions or