Heart Gold

Home from the San River for over a week now.  Still dreaming about it. Desiring for the real world to slow to river time, where calendars and wrist watches are taboo. Time is told by light and dark, night and day, or the rumbling of my stomach. 

There has been a mass sharing of photos and videos taken by individuals on our trip.  Team members sharing their glory, their stories.  I was hesitant  to add my few images.  Why? Not because I consider myself a "quasi" professional photographer. (I do sell a few images a year!)  But this time, sharing meant letting go of something in or of my heart. 

This photo file tucked away on my computer is the door to opening the emotions of my heart.  If I share these photos, I am afraid that others will see a good photo, maybe the emotion, mostly they might see deep into my soul.  My memories and feelings of this trip are tucked away, saved like precious gold. Do I dare share? 

This San Juan River Section ( Sand Island to Clay Hills, 80 miles) has been a part of this family for 12 years.  Every Spring break we find time to go "home" to the river. A week in the river in the canyon, a break from our town still locked in winter.  Green is beginning to show in the canyon, maybe some brave flowers, sun is warming our inner souls and burning the tops of our ears. 

I don't need pictures of the river or canyon walls.  I can picture them in my mind, like I can describe a
good friend. They reach from the sky straight down to the river. They define every twist and turn the river makes.   The scenery is a constant in this trip.  Photos cannot describe the feeling I get sitting on the bank of the river, listening to the canyon.  Allowing it to talk to me.

This year was a different kind of trip. A mother daughter river adventure.  Dad could not go. Though Toni and I have been on mother daughter back country adventures in the past, this would be the first raft adventure without dad.

Though we passed through amazing country, I wanted my camera to focus on Toni. You can see her joy in her face when she was rowing the raft, her comfort in sitting on the front of the raft through rapids, her contentment when sleeping in a tent, her accomplishments of hiking up steep trails or leading us through slot canyons.  She has done this so many times.  This is what I wish for all children.  To be comfortable in the wild, to thrive without electronics, to without knowing it become in tune with the rhythms of the canyon.  For Toni, who has some specific life struggles this is truly an amazing thing!

 I drove all the way there and back.  I rigged a raft that did not fall apart on the river. I set up camp for Toni and me every night.  I cooked for 14 people and amazed all with a Dutch Oven Apple Cobbler. I patched the inflatable kayaks. I piloted the raft  through the rocky rapid where others got stuck. I was blessed with time spent with friends, old and new.  

These emotions, these feelings of empowerment, pride and contentment of getting things done, they are the images not saved on my computer but in my heart.  They are the gold I brought home.  

Is that Me?

I knew my photo was going to be posted on the Transform307's Facebook page.  While I was grunting away and leaving little sweat puddles on the ground Matt was taking pictures.  He does that sometimes.  So why does this surprise me?

It is the photos themselves.  Who is that strong, thin, muscular person in those photos? I am in awe of her.  She is doing great things!  Truly this is not me!

Muscle has memory and my muscles remember a heavy, slow, tired, frustrated me. A me before meeting Matt Hartsky and the Transform307 family.  Life when movement was hard. When food was a crutch.  Being held to this earth by 204 pounds.  

There are very few pictures of me, at  204 pounds.  I hated what I saw.  I hated knowing that was how others saw me.  Pictures have a way of telling the truth.   Outwardly saying to go ski, move, enjoy life.  Inwardly reaching for that last cookie. Always saying I will do better tomorrow.  Living in my extra large clothes, trying to hide the rolls of fat hanging over my waistband of my pants.  Pretending I was actually fit, strong, healthy.  Knowing I was not.

This is the person my muscles and brain remember the most. I keep buying clothes that are too big, thinking I could never be that small.   Looking in the mirror tonight, I do not see the strong confident person in these photos taken today.  My eyes must have a vivid long term memory.  They see me as older, chubby and weak. My brain tells me I am tired.  My stomach says one cookie won't hurt the nutrition plan.   What baggage am I still holding on to? What emotional crutches or scars are so deep that I cannot let go? Why can I not see  myself for the person I am today?

Then I see the picture on Facebook. I have to stare.  I ask who is the person in the pictures?

It is the me I desire to become.  The me taking on life.  Getting strong, healthy and yes skinny! It is the me who has taken on three half marathons and a 25km ski race this year.  The me who is going to make her goal of 2019  miles, (running, walking or skiing,) in 2019. It is the me who has been in the gym three mornings a week and on the trails, road or cardio machine the other days, every day for over a year and a half.  It is the me who has left 60 pounds of baggage, emotional and physical, on that gym floor in sweat puddles. It is a fierce me. Ready to take on life me.

The gal in these photos.  It is the me I want to be.  I like her! 

Where Eagles Hunt On Foot

Four Moms, five daughters, twenty back country miles, (more for those who went on the Crow Mountain Adventure!)  Five days, four nights.  Just us gals doing our thing, solving our own problems, understanding that we are strong.

There is no better way than spending time in the back country to find oneself.  I see it in the young gals, the daughters.  One nervous about going across the country to college, taking on a new season in her life with confidence. One very secure in her Lakota Sioux heritage, knowing who she is at age 16, who carries rocks, climbs trees and reads books. Two sisters I have watched grow from cute curly haired children to confident young teens, pitching tents, cooking dinner, taking care of themselves. My own daughter who does not realize she struggles in life with her disability of Down Syndrome, who works twice as hard to get the miles as the rest of us.  These gals, confident in themselves, are strong, problem solving, fun loving, and with each step we take up the trail, more connected than they know to these mountains. 

Sylvan Lake

Five days and four nights we travel. Testing our bodies abilities.  The mountain gives us no warm up. We move uphill.  We camp at spectacular lakes, fish, explore, rest, close our eyes and breath the pine fresh air. We eat dinners under the rain tarp watching the lightning shows and cringing at the thunder bouncing off the mountains. I collect water off the drips for dishwater.  We have become part of the landscape.  It feels right for all of us. 

We take time to slow down.  Hiking only a few miles to the next lake and camp.  We let the girls lead.  Let them find the trail.  It is all about choices.  Left or right, go back or go forward.  We find camp with plenty of time to fish, explore and take in the view.  Again we eat under the tarp as the evening thunder storm is on us.

Crow Lake

Day four we say goodbye to the curly haired sisters and their mother. We will miss them.  They will hike out back to the trail head we started on.  Back down the mountain.  They have more adventures waiting them.  The six of us left will continue UP to higher ground.  Up to part of the world I have never been to.  Off the grid. Off the beaten path.  We discuss where to camp. We are almost at tree line.  Being caught in the open for our afternoon thunderstorm would not be good.  We decide to go up anyway.
 We can always come back down if we have to.

Our packs

We break out of the trees on to the beginning of the Red Lodge Creek Plateau.  As a collective group, our cameras come out. We stand in awe.  We are on top of the world. Three hundred and sixty degrees, a complete circle of view.  We see where we started that day, we see across the mountains into plateaus that we thought were high in elevation.  We see mountain peaks at eye level.  My sister offers a tidbit from my dad, a memory. Something that he said more than once in reference to a destination for a hike. It describes this place perfectly.  “This is where Eagles Hunt On Foot.“  We feel so                                                          high even the eagles have no need for flight.

We find the most amazing camp. A sanctuary in the trees at the edge of the plateau.  The trees offer a bit of comfort, shelter from wind and rain we think will come.  It stays nice.

After dinner we as a group walk out on the plateau.  The view has not changed.  We cannot get enough of it.   I lay on my belly and photograph the multitude of flowers.  Flowers fill my lens.  I look up and the view fills my lens.  We climb a hill face west and watch the sun set.  Watch how the light changes highlighting different peaks and valleys.  When the sun is at the horizon we sit in the moment.  I for one do not want it to end.  The world is perfect in that moment. 

Day five we linger in camp just a little longer than we should. There is a feeling of sisterhood.  We had the sun and the mountains to ourselves last night.  We six have the memories. Cameras, photographs do not share the moment well. You could say our hearts were beating together with the mountains.

Alas, we must decide to move.  Real life awaits eight miles away.  We climb to the top of the plateau, stay on the edge for a long time and then start to drop off the top of the world. It is hard to hike, my eyes want to take in every view, every flower, every small stream.  Over the edge we drop off the side of the mountain.  Back into the trees, into an old burn, back to meeting people.  It feels uncomfortable to have my private wilderness invaded by others.   Eventually we see the parking lot.  We traverse the side of the mountain, switch backs for two or more miles until we touch our car. 

This trail we hiked out on, Camp Senia, is named for a collection of very old cabins near the trail head. All saved by really brave people who diverted the most recent forest fire from burning down hundreds of years of history.  It is named for one of my Grandmothers friends.  I feel my grandmother smiling from heaven.  We have brought our daughters back to their roots.  It is not a circle but a spiral. Each generation we continue to teach, grow, love and through all come back to our heritage of the Beartooth Mountains.

Entering Mile 3 -uncharted territory

As I was looking in the mirror today I noticed somethings, my legs are skinny, my arms have muscles never seen before, I have cheek bones and ribs.  These things, they have been living but dormant in my body for so long.  I am super excited to see them.

Most people probably know.  My life is an open book.  I have made it to a huge milestone in my life. I have dropped 40 pounds! YEP, 40 POUNDS!

Dropping weight, getting fit, shifting my ideas about nutrition, none of this is easy. Finding the time to commit to myself  every day (intentional purpose driven workouts) when youngest daughter has Pneumonia is impossible. Add in cooking food for the family that fits my requirements, juggling work, taking care of my dog who just had surgery, and the start of coaching the LMS Nordic Ski Team all have their  own set of issues. Together life is very chaotic!

Healthy is my priority. Making  time for me, remembering my food for the day, journaling my progress, these things are not habit. I have to think every day about my new life.  Making myself do seven intentional workouts a week is hard.  Thank goodness for Transform 307 for twice a week check ins and workouts to motivate me.  I have to slap my own hand after ski  practice when I am starved and reaching for that candy bar.  But I am willing do it. The payoff is huge.

The hardest/easiest part pf all this is showing up at Transform 307 two times a week.  Hard because I know I will remember, sore muscles pleasantly painfully telling me every time I go up and down my stairs at home or throw in that double pole skiing. 

20 weeks at Transform 307 times two workouts a week equals 40  challenging workouts with Matt Hartsky (personal coach and trainer) has been the hardest/best part of this transformation.  Having a coach tell me what to do, letting him guide me in to getting fit, is the best.  Surviving his workouts well is my pat on the back.  Looking back to week one and not surviving and not sweating through every minute gives me great joy.

So, Matt says if we were running a marathon together, I have entered mile 3.  I am finished warming up and stating into the real deal.

The Dragon in My Closet

It happened again today.

I called my mother today to check in, say hello, and to tell her I was sending her important things in the mail.  Within two minutes of hello she had asked me about my weight.  If  had lost any, if I was skinny yet.   This time I was ready.  I could answer, " Yes, I have lost weight."  I know, I was digging for a compliment.  What I got was, "You are getting there."

What the heck, Mom!..

Last time I checked I was an adult. I am almost 55 years old and her comments still really hurt. Why do I need her approval?  Why is this emotional dragon still in my closet?  Who has the key to let him out?  Obviously my mother does.

Emotional scars from being over weight  all my life.  They follow me.  They build huge brick walls that keep me safe from the outside world.  Scars whisper excuses into my brain.   Scars turn me toward baggy clothes.  Clothes that hide the bubbly awesome person inside me.  Scars of my father never telling me I was beautiful. He called me fat,  he took food off of my plate at dinner and gave it to my brother.  Scars of my mother (to this day) asking me if I have lost any weight.  Not hello, how are you but, what do you weigh? That dragon living in my closet he tears at my heart every day.

For the last 13 weeks,  I have been coached by Matt Hartsky at Transform 307. He does not know it but he has helped me slay a few dragons.  He creates workouts, directs nutrition and tells me I am stronger than I give myself credit for.  I have gained strength, fitness and lost 28 pounds.  Most important I am gaining  self confidence.

Yes, Mom, I am getting there.  I am becoming my own person.

I bought some new clothes the other day.  Smaller in size than what I would normally buy.  My weight loss has a side effect. Clothes are getting baggy.  Not just baggy but too big.  (I have never had the too big problem in my life!)

Yesterday the delivery came.  Four new items.  I opened the box pulled them out and froze like a deer in the headlights of an oncoming truck.  They all looked to small.  I laid them all out on the kitchen table.  Did four laps around the table looking at them from all sorts of angles.  Finally I decided to try them on.   Maybe, in the security of my own home, with nobody watching, I could pretend they fit.

I have not been so nervous since that first workout at Transform307 in July.  Trying on those four items, one whole size smaller than my old size was petrifying.  "Please, God let these fit!"  I can't return them they were on ultra sale.

 And guess what! They do!!!! I am that small after all!

By all means, what size I wear does not define who I am.  I was beautiful before Transform307.  I am the same person now in my heart.  That said, life is easier being smaller and stronger.  Movement is easier. Daily struggles are easier.  (Workouts at the gym are harder!)

Brick walls are being torn down. There is no room for excuses in my life.  No room for those pesky emotional dragons. I like who I am, who I am becoming.

I have just slayed one dragon in my closet. He has been there since I was a young.   I am sure he has a few ugly brothers I have yet to deal with.

I have come to the realization that I am beautiful!  I am strong.  I am getting healthy.  Just like that dreaded step up bench at the gym,  I have conquered.  I am ready for more.  I am taking the fight to the gym, to life.

Get out of my way! I have more work to do.

September 2018
(-15 pounds)

August 2018
It was this picture that made me
decide to find help with my weight/fitness.

The transformation is starting to be visibly noticeable!

October 16, 2018
(-28 pounds)

More info about Transform 307  go to www.transform307.com

Rowdy Gowdy/ Glendo Endo and the greatness of women only retreats.

"I am thinking about putting together a women's only mountain bike weekend.  Would you be willing in helping me?"  This was a request from a good friend.  (We shall call her Friend JH.) Two years and three retreats ago, this how it all started for me. I became part of the Rowdy Gowdy  Mountain Bike Weekend and it's sister weekend the Glendo Endo. 

Though I am not a mountain biker, (the last time I rode the trails, a squirrel hit me in the helmet with a pine cone, in the effort to avoid said pine cone, I hit a tree with my knee and was lucky I was biking with a nurse).  I am a planner, organizer and a great large group cook.  The idea of women getting together on common ground of mountain biking, appealed to me.  There was no way I was going to be left out.  Friend  JH  did not know of my need to feed the masses, take care of all and stock outhouses with toilet paper.

Day 2 

First lets take the man out of the equation.  Why?  There is a different atmosphere with just women. We party, we dance, we laugh, we paint, we hug, drink beer, listen to each other and so much more. These retreats give us women a chance to do it ourselves, be strong, know our judgment is solid.  We have no safety net except ourselves.  We slow down just a bit.  Take time to learn skills. Coaches teach us different. They are also women, they understand our issues. We are great together.

Riding the boxes

 I have been married for over 30 years. Yes, to a man. I tend to like men. Some of my best friends are men.  But, there are still times I do things looking for my husband's approval, a little head shake, a thumbs up when I row through that  huge rapid, words of encouragement to send me down that ski hill way out of my comfort zone. I will admit, I have done some crazy (in my mind), things just to keep up.  Just to prove I am a s good as he is at ___________(fill in the blank).  I don't know why when we around men we are different.  We just are.

Getting coached over the box!

Women only retreats give us the opportunity to say, "no thank you, I am not comfortable, please slow down, I still do not get what I am doing wrong or I need help."  They give us the opportunity to support each other.  There is victory in little accomplishments.  There is understanding in frustrations.  There is security in numbers.  

Biking off picnic tables may be necessary
sometime.

Being a woman is strong.   We praise, we grow, we feel great inside our hearts.  We seek to know more about each other than what kind of a bike we ride.  "How is your family? You are limping.  What did you do?"  Some of us are mothers or wives.  We spend much of our time taking care of others.  Dinners, school lunches, laundry, work issues, homework, watching our kids play sports, etc.  This is our time to be the center, to demand someone pay attention to me, if only for a few seconds at a time. 

Taco Bar for dinner

I begged to work these retreats. The first time, Friend JH did not know how much I need them. Cooking is my stress relief.  Taking care of others blesses me.  With help of my daughter and and yet another friend, we provide all the meals for the masses for the retreats.  I leave these weekends with a very full heart.

For a weekend I get to be in a community of great women.  I have the opportunity to feed their stomachs.  I admit I am selfish.  I love the praise I get for a well cooked meal.  I get to see gals roll their eyes in delight when eating frozen treats after hot rides.  I have the privilege to stock toilet paper in the outhouse.  Little things mean a lot.  I experience  the pride and joy in their faces when they share accomplishments of the day. It is crazy how proud of bumps, scrapes and blood mountain bikers are!



This last retreat I was given the opportunity of befriending the Glendo State Park employee assigned to watch over us.  Her loneliness hurt my heart.  I hope by inviting her to share our meals, share our community, I was able to bring her a bit of friendship.

There is no doubt that in these weekend retreats the ladies ride hard.  That is the main focus.  There is so much more.  I think it is joy.

I AM WOMAN!  HEAR ME ROAR! 

For more information for either the Rowdy Gowdy or the Glendo Endo    https://gowdywomenscamp.com

Sea Kayaking with the Gals

Recently I was blessed to be included on a sea kayak adventure on Yellowstone Lake.  We would start at Grant Village spend 3 nights and 4 days, paddling to the upper part of the South Arm of the lake and then back to Grant.  Four days fifty miles of shoreline.


I did not know it at the time, but the team ended up consisting of six pretty amazing gals.  Me included.  I was the only non scientist in the group.  Our trip leader is THE fish biologist on Yellowstone Lake.  The other four ladies were fishery biologists, raised fish in the hatchery, or worked on developing riparian environments in the Yellowstone ecosystem.  (Like my new tech talk!) Every day I was amazed at the commitment these ladies have toward saving our wild lands for future generations.  Their ability to paddle in the wind was also impressive.

Pie for dessert the last night. 

I think the rangers that conducted our boat inspections before we put in at Grant were surprised that we were a ladies only team.  That we were brave enough to go forth and conquer.  Intending to paddle 50 miles.  Let me say... Ladies only trips are the best.  We constantly look out for each other.  Shared dinners are
amazing.  There is no trying to keep up, impress or be more than we are.  Sometimes men bring this out in us, just by being there.

 I had never packed a sea kayak for a trip.  Amazingly it all fit.  Only one dry bag tied to the top.  Being an inflatable boat kind of a gal this was going to be a new experience for me.  I was nervous.

Paddling in choppy waters.

We took off in wind gusts of 15-20 mph.   The swells on the lake made me whimper.  My boat would tip, I would brace and pray.  I thought it  was my inexperience.  That evening in camp, everybody was saying they were scared.  I felt a touch better and tougher.

Morning sun

Watching the sun come up.

The next mornings we got up early.  Paddled hard. Took time to absorb or be absorbed by the moment.

Modern Facilities. 

We were deep into the back country of Yellowstone.  No boardwalks, no paved roads, no flushing toilets.  Just us, our boats, camping gear and the apple pie, our trip leader pulled out of her kayak for the last dinner together.   After bear proofing our camp, we went to bed listening to the elk bugle..  We woke to magnificent sunrises, still waters and the smell of instant coffee.
Mountains, sunsets, sunrises, eagles, dead trees, solitude.

Taking in the view.

 I was awestruck by the bigness of Yellowstone Lake.  It is truly an inland sea.  One beach was made of shiny black pebbles, probably rocks from the volcano.  Footprints of various animals were everywhere.  They had left their calling cards.. This was their home, I was the visitor.




This is not a trip for the faint of heart.  We supported ourselves.  We knew the possibility of bears or other animals.  We found out  even elk can be unpredictable if surprised.  We were at the mercy of the weather.  This is why we went.  For these type of trips draw a certain woman.

My gear drying in the sunset

More light on the water

Always s'mores when camping

I was told the presence of eagles means the lake is getting healthy.