Author: Laura

wife. mother. kick-ass girl. all mountain, all road adventurer by bike.

Katahdin 360

a fatbikepacking adventure

Four years ago, a bikepacking route in Maine was posted to Bikepacking.com and I was immediately intrigued. Maine has a mythical status in my mind and having never been there at the time, I wanted to experience a true Maine adventure. Whenever I mentioned the route to friends, their response was usually “looks so cool!” and then they looked at the drive time and said “PASS.”

Then one of my bike friends moved to Maine.

And I finally visited Maine – first a long weekend in Portland; then a week in Harpswell; and now, a long weekend in Baxter State Park and Katahdin Woods & Waters National Monument.

This was my year.

day 1 – BSP

We basecamped at the New England Outdoor Center – Penobscot, reserving a 4-person canvas tent for the week so we could have a place to start close to the park, hot showers when we returned, and a place for our cars to be during our trip. Also, their Twin Pines campus has two restaurants (River Drivers and Knife’s Edge) making it easy to get a bite and back to camp fairly quickly.

Day One is usually a more relaxed morning as we savor our morning coffee and load the bikes for the first time. We finally headed out around 10:30 a.m. under partly sunny, humid conditions. Almost immediately, my rear rack disassembled itself from the weight. Thankfully, it was a quick fix, and we were back in business in less than 5 minutes.

A few miles later we’re in Baxter, checking in with the rangers at the gate. Ranger Aiden was suitably impressed to see two women on well-loaded fat bikes and instructed us to return our pass to the north gate so they know we made it through the park.

Baxter State Park is true Maine wilderness despite the established hiking trails, the tote road through the park, forest service campgrounds, and plenty of public pit toilets. Seriously – I wish every state took public toilet opportunities as seriously as Maine does in BSP. We marveled at the beauty surrounding us and started our “Moose Watch.”

We stopped to take a photo and it started to rain. Not terribly hard, but enough that we decided to put on our rain jackets.

It never stopped raining for the rest of the day and into the night. Something like an inch+ of rain fell. At one point, we pulled over and put a midlayer under the rain jackets to stay warm. Always fun to try to change and add layers when it’s pouring rain out.

But the rain kept a lot of people (and animals) away – so we pedaled our way though the park.

Thoroughly soaked through, we arrived at the Matagamon Gate and surrendered our pass to the Ranger, who was asking if we were on e-bikes. No e-bikes here – just analog human-powered transportation! A woman took our photo to send to her husband who is on the Great Divide Route right now.

A few miles later, we roll into Matagamon Wilderness Campground for the night. Months ago, we had called to reserve a tent site, but as the weather forecast solidified before we headed up, I made the executive decision to see if we could book a cabin or other indoor accommodations. We were able to reserve the yurt, which ended up being perfect for us.

Soaked, caked in muddy dirt, and starting to get chilled, we headed to the coin-op showers to rinse off and warm up a bit. We left our stuff on the porch and got a hot meal from the restaurant, Mama Bear’s Kitchen, before going back to the yurt to crank the heat and try to get our clothing to dry out.

a whoopie pie is not a meal, but homemade whoopie pies are not to be missed

Day 2 – KW&WNM

After a nice sleep in a warm bed in a yurt, we opted for breakfast at the kitchen again and discuss our plans for the day’s route. The owner asked about our route and gave us some Pro Tips that only a local would know. We got a late start (11am) but with only 30ish miles to go, we weren’t especially worried about time.

Katahdin Woods & Waters National Monument is a relatively new national park, established in 2016. As such, there aren’t many front-country amenities and roads can mean anything from a wide smooth trucking road to overgrown two-track.

As with any day two, the legs are a touch stiffer and hills a bit slower – especially with 4″ tires and heavy loads. We enjoyed the solitude and lack of civilization, pedaling along dirt roads to two track to slick, mossy singletrack. We crossed the suspension bridge and found a spot to stop for lunch.

After lunch was a huge hike a bike up a long logging road two track. None of our photos show the actual steepness of the inclines, which challenged our upper body strength pushing our loaded bikes over rocky, uneven terrain.

By the time we get to the top, Ashley’s energy is waning. My water is getting low so we found a campground on the map 6 miles from our intended spot for the night that has direct access to the river so we can filter water.

WILDLIFE ENCOUNTER: We’ve been on “Moose Watch” the whole time – every time we see a logged lane or a swampy area, we scan for moose. No luck. So we’re happily motoring along on a wide, open logging road when we hear a branch crack, leaves shake, and something dark drop. We immediately stop and look at each other. Bear or Moose? What do we do if it’s a moose? Bear spray works on moose, right? Ashley takes out the bear spray and we stand there for a few minutes assessing the situation before deciding to high-tail it down the road. Nothing chased us but we had a good spike in our heart rate for a moment.

Once we get there though, we decide to just call it for the day. the Lunksoos Campground was beautiful, clean, and there was only one other camper – Mo The Gravel Cyclist. We chatted with Mo and he gave us some pro tips for the next day’s route to avoid some impassable roads. Mo is retired and spends his time out camping and riding his super-sick Cutthroat with Lauf fork. Mo asked us if we were on e-bikes.

We filter water, make dinner, and call it a night.

Day 3 – Home Again

It’s chilly when we get up so we make some coffee and oatmeal for breakfast while wearing puffies and warm beanies and gloves. We filter more water and as we’re packing up, Ranger Steve stops by to let us know the site we were on is reserved for the next few nights. We assure him we’re on our way and he gives us more insights to help make our final day very enjoyable. He also asks if we are on e-bikes (this is becoming a trend and while I have no issue with e-bikes, it’s wild that people assume a bike is an e-bike anymore).

We head out on a wonderful snowmobile trail before turning onto logging roads. We stop for lunch on the side of the road with a beautiful view of Katahdin. The logging road starts to be more two-track and then devolves further into an overgrown mess of rocks, moss, and thick leaves.

The final push was definitely a workout, as we’re tired from the previous day’s hike a bike and the uncertain terrain added a layer of challenge in just finding the right line of least resistance. Eventually we get to just overgrown two-track again, and blast through the knee-high foliage on our wide tires with a small gravity assist.

Suddenly, we pop out of the woods into a swamp and lo, Mount Katahdin in all her glory.

A few more miles to get back to the gatehouse at Baxter State Park and then a few miles on the road to get back to camp for a well-earned dinner.

final thoughts

As I write this, I am still amazed and astounded at the adventures I’ve had with just one or two other girl friends in the wilderness. This trip in particular was spectacular, in that I’ve now seen all facets of Maine – and I love them all. I haven’t been on my bike since an overnight in July (oops, forgot to write about that one) and yet, I felt strong, capable, and fully present in the moment. thanks strength training!

and also – FAT BIKEPACKING IS AMAZING. omg, I did not know how much I’ve been missing by not doing lower total miles in rustic locations on my fat bike. I am fully addicted to when I can go fatbikepacking again. Maybe it’s just my bomb-ass Surly Wednesday, but I had a B L A S T!!

I also am reminded that bringing a spare kit is crucial. Everything I was wearing on Saturday was soaked through and we did not have the means to get everything completely dry. If I didn’t have a second set of riding shorts, shirt, and a sunhoodie, days 2 and 3 would have been fighting hypothermia and hoping my clothing dried out. It wasn’t that warm this past weekend – only in the low-60s and breezy.

My parting advice? Plan the trip and just do it. Don’t wait for when you have the right gear or the right bags or the coolest route. If you’re psyched about something, make it happen! Find a friend, talk to locals, and have an incredible, S Tier time.

see you out there!

Thoughts from an Adventure Snack

like riding a bike, it all comes back

Pedaling felt effortless. The sun was warm on my face, and the road was remarkably quiet. My brain was playing the Pina Colada song on loop, and I couldn’t help but feel completely at peace.

I haven’t been on a bikepacking trip since I got home from the Northwoods 600. There are a variety of reasons – some I’ve chronicled here and some I haven’t. Time seems to keep moving; our relationships evolve.

The bikepacking overnight I planned to attend back in April was canceled due to weather, which was fine because I’ve done the riding bikes in the chilly rain and it’s not fun. So last weekend when I looked at the weather (it looked great – high of 70*F and low of 50*F overnight) and checked the local campground (literally one site left) …. I booked it. Perfect for a quick adventure.

Friday was a complete washout – well over an inch of rain in 24 hours – so I decided to leave on Saturday and stick to roads instead of incorporating a few rustic trails. Leaving after lunch on Saturday meant an unhurried start to the adventure. I stopped by a gas station to pick up a beverage for dinner and continued along, arriving at camp a few hours later. I convinced the ranger to bring me a bundle of firewood.

When it’s been a minute, it’s easy to forget what it’s like to haul everything for the weekend. Those first few pedals take a bit more power to get going, but once the tires roll, they feel effortless.

It wasn’t lost on me that my mom’s birthday would have been Friday, and Mother’s Day is Sunday (and my dad’s birthday). Getting away gave me space to think, heal, and be responsible only for myself. But truly, getting outside, setting up camp, relaxing with dinner by a campfire, retiring to read before getting some sleep—this is living.

I definitely wished I had a friend or two along for the trip, but I’m learning we can’t always wait for the stars to align. We all have our own lives separate from our friendships and adventures. When adventure calls, sometimes you just have to heed the call.

Anyway, the weather was perfect, and loading up the bike and heading out to camp for a night felt really good.

Gear Thoughts

I have the original Revelate Designs Nano Pannier, and they are fantastic for short trips where I’m not bringing a lot. Revelate recently introduced the revamped nano panniers and the Pannier Pod. I already have two Dopp bags, so I picked up two of the pannier pods, thinking they would be solid for organizing my nano panniers. They only hold 12L total, so good organizing practices are key.

I had my doubts about if they would hold anything substantial – and I was totally wrong. I was able to put my sleep attire, unders, socks, and a spare shirt and shorts in one; the other held layers.

Made it super easy to stay organized and pack in everything I wanted to bring.

Also, there is no right or wrong in bikepacking in terms of the amount of gear. Sure, there are people who can live in the same clothing for weeks on end and carry only a toothbrush, but there are also people who prefer to be comfortable and not have to put on every single thing they brought to stay warm at night. The only person you’re hurting is yourself by having to haul all that stuff around.

One of my Non-Negotiable Nice To Haves is my Helinox chair. Any collapsible chair will work – but having a place to sit that isn’t a rock, a log, or the ground is tops. I also bring a full (non-shower) toiletries set – body cleanser wipes, face cleanser wipes, witch hazel wipes, deodorant, tooth brush & toothpaste, saline nasal spray and allergy meds. My clothing might not be super fresh,but I like to feel like I’m decently clean despite irregular showers.

Anyway, it’s great to be back on the bike and going on adventures. This trip felt very important to do as a reintroduction to an activity I love but have shelved for the past 18 months. I have a few more trips planned this year that I’m really excited about.

Hope to see you out there!

2024 in Review

let’s look at the bright side

This year has not been my best, and it feels like it’s been that way the past 4 years. If you want to get really technical, it all started with the 2016 election, but specifically, the time since covid showed up in New York has been a wild ride of anxiety and stress.

My brain tells me I didn’t do much this year and while that’s partly true, it’s not the whole story. I won’t rehash what I’ve already written about extensively; instead I’m focusing on what I did do this past year.

January

January featured a visit to the local wolf sanctuary, a few fat bike excursions around the region, and ample time on the trainer as I geared up for the April Trifecta: Toad Strangler, Rasputitsa, and LuLackaWyco.

February

February started with a long weekend trip to New Hampshire to fat bike with my girlfriends and Matt. My first experience ridding on trails that were 100% ice with no studs! (spoilers: it wasn’t terribly fun to feel like I was going to slide out at any moment) I also dropped off the bright red ceramic sink with my Maine friend Ashley for the cabin she’s renovating. A bit more snow, more local fat biking, and even more trainer time.

March

Local gravel with girlfriends, more trainer time, and a massive anxiety attack. My youngest kid turned 21. I soldiered through the 4th annual Frozen Apple Ride. I tried to keep up with my trainer rides when I felt like I could. My GI symptoms begin in earnest.

April

I’m back in therapy. We took our younger kids and their partners for a weekend in Cooperstown, NY to hit up key places on the Beverage Trail. The solar eclipse wasn’t total in our area but my kid in Buffalo got some amazing photos of totality. I enjoyed Toad Strangler, Rasputitsa, and LuLackaWyco despite mounting GI issues. I decide doing big events solo isn’t as fun as when you have a friend to ride with. I also experienced my first earthquake!

May

Mountain biking, a trip to Philly, and Northern Lights – which I didn’t see myself! Again, my kid in Buffalo got great photos and sent them to me. Memorial Day Weekend is once again Girls + Matt MTB Weekend – checking out Pine Hill and Slate Valley trails. Definitely want to go back to Slate Valley to check out the rest of the trails.

June

More mountain biking locally, more trainer rides (to get ready for GRUSK). Friends camping weekend where I try out a bivy (eh), cry unexpectedly, take a 3 hour nap in my tent in the rain, and read by the campfire. A road ride and more local gravel. I decide I’m not 100% for a 3 day bikepacking trip and switch to the day-ride option.

July

A few local gravel rides and then GRUSK. West Virginia is beautiful, chunky, and lots of vert. Hanging out with Curt for 2 days feels fabulous. I have my first break in GI issues and tentatively begin planning bike rides again with friends, including getting Karen to ride up Mt Riga and a duo camping trip to Molly Stark State Park for some Vermont gravel. Riding a remote and stunning route solo before driving home. Feeling more confident.

August

I’m not confident – another anxiety attack knocks me back to square one. That and a flight delay leads me to leave my bike at home and skip SBTGVL in favor of spending more time with my family and friends. I don’t regret it, even if I do continue to have GI issues the whole trip. I’ve discovered Dramamine seems to help with the pervasive nausea. I catch covid on the flight back to New York. I take it as a sign to just calm the fuck down.

September

Finally see my primary care doc and add Lexapro to my Wellbutrin and almost immediately the GI symptoms go away. The Brain-Gut axis is super real. Once I’m recovered from covid, I begin with low milage rides at moderate paces. I go camping with friends again, this time doing a stunning 40 mile route out of Beartown State Forest, which is open again. We see a bear while riding. My youngest sister is diagnosed with breast cancer. I start strength training and discover I’m stronger than I expected and start to look forward to lifting heavy.

October

A few days after taking a melancholic road ride, one of my kids has a mental health crisis and attempts suicide. Fortunately, I get them to the ER quickly. The gravity of the situation doesn’t hit me until the nurse brings their stuff out and says they are on suicide watch. We embark on a journey through the mental health system, which I am thankful we have good insurance and access to some of the best doctors and programs in the state. My days revolve around work, visiting my kid in the behavioral health hospital, and caring for the dogs. Our kid is released and enters the outpatient program immediately.

November

I’ve switched to hiking with friends because it’s too much effort to get dressed for a bike ride. I’m reading a lot because offline activities are calming. My kids visit, which I always love. Lots of puzzles are started and completed. A long-time friend visits. There is something special about being able to wake up and sit on the couch drinking coffee with friends. Right before Thanksgiving, I have another big anxiety attack and instead of my primary care doc, I call a psychiatrist. Within days I’m off Lexapro and starting Effexor. Within a week, I’m feeling more calm and rational than I have in a long time.

December

Ice Weasels kicks off the month with a lot of fun. I come in third again in the women’s fat bike race – which I’m always fine with because I don’t race and everyone else does. Pete’s cousin and kid are there too, so I hang out with them and catch up. A solo fat bike ride at Stewart where I almost get locked into the park. I drop off my fat bike to get tubed studded tires mounted and a quick once-over of the bike. It’s been snowy and cold, then rainy and warm cyclically. I’m optimistic I might be able to get out and ride on Monday.

What’s On my radar for 2025

  • Good mental health – continuing therapy and medication adjustments as needed
  • Balance in work and life
  • Maybe sell the house and move home to Colorado?
  • Family vacation to Maine
Bike Events

I won’t do all of the above, but I do want to share smaller events that are really fun, well-supported, and not terribly expensive. You

As I write this, I haven’t decided if I’m going to put my trainer up in the new year. Riding indoors is hella boring, even with a structured training plan and killer music playlist, but does translate to riding strength in the spring. I’d like to get outside as much as possible because I need the cardio to balance the strength training. It’s also raining (day two of three) so there’s that. Something to figure out next month.

I’m optimistic 2025 will be better. See you out there!

68* and Sunny

not a cloud in the sky, it was a beautiful day to die

7:40am MDT Sept 16, 2023
Dad: Mom is non responsive this morning
Julie: Can we come be with you?

7:42am MDT
Ash: Oh. Dad what do you need? Should we come over?
Julie: Is it time?
Dad: Nurse Betsy had told Laura and me to expect that was the next phase. A compassus nurse will check later today.
Laura: Julie and I are on our way over
Ash: I’m far away but I’ll be there ASAP
Dad: no hurry, ok

it’s already been a year. Mom was kind enough to die on a Saturday when my teacher sisters would have time to grieve without using all three of their bereavement days immediately.

Four days ago, I broke down like I haven’t in a while. I sobbed for hours. HARD. All of the feelings came rushing forth – I miss my mom. I’m sad about all kinds of ordinary things – like she won’t be able to see my youngest graduate from university. I’ll never get another text from my mom on my birthday to tell me she’s proud of me and loves me. That she chose to not prolong her life. The last time she asked when I was moving back to Colorado, I had said, “2 years, minimum,” and now she won’t be around to be happy when I do finally make it back.

It was 100% her call, and I don’t fault her for it. I just wanted more time.

Therapy has helped me work through many things about losing my mom. Six themes, specifically. A lot of my lingering thoughts and feelings stem from how quickly it all seemed to happen. Living 2,000 miles away prevents the everyday impact of decline – so every time I saw her, she was markedly worse. Mom went from being independent and strong to frail with a whisper voice to frustrated with her body’s growing limitations, to acceptance that her body was failing and no amount of frustration and willpower would overcome that. All of this in 3 or 4 visits over the course of not even a year.

I knew she had things she wanted to do in this lifetime that she didn’t get to do because of how quickly things progressed. If she were here, she would tell you she held death off longer than doctors expected, but reality would tell you she probably should have accepted hospice support earlier than she did. She would have been more comfortable for a longer period of time.

my dad texted me the other day using this group chat and it took me a few minutes to remember it wasn’t Mom texting me

My mind no longer wanders immediately to the final 24 hours of her time on this earth when I close my eyes. I don’t replay the day in my head endlessly. I don’t feel tears automatically streaming down my face when I close my eyes (and when I do, I let it happen because I’ve learned you have to experience the grief in order to let go enough to integrate the loss into your life).

I’ve read books on grief, memoirs of losing a mom, I’ve done a lot of work integrating grief into my life. I’ve come to realize there will never be a day when I’m magically totally OK with this – time will help soften the bruise but it might always be a little sore.

Sometimes I think about those hours we spent with mom’s body before the nurse came by to declare her death. It was intense and raw. Most of us wanting to find something of hers to bring home with us – a sweater to wrap around ourselves like a hug, an old stuffed animal from when we were kids. But she had already cleaned out her closets and donated a bunch of stuff and the specific things we desired weren’t available to us.

The last sense to go is hearing. At one point Dad decided to turn on Mom’s playlist so we’d have music to listen to while we were waiting for the nurse. Mamma Mia comes blaring out of the speakers – it was both perfect and wildly inappropriate.

Last year’s summer, when Mom’s death seemed imminent, I went out to see her. The living room was full of things. Mom already had limited mobility and communicated mostly with a whiteboard and marker. My sister and I went through the stuff to ask her what to keep, trash, and donate. Lots of stuff went to the trash or donate category. But I remember pulling up her old cross country skis that she had bought so many years ago at a swap meet. She wrote “If I survive this, I want to keep these.”

Sometimes I think about the things Mom loved – springer spaniels, sewing, gardening, needlecrafts, doing fun activities with younger children. Being a mom and eventually, a grandma. Making oatmeal cookies with the add-in each kid preferred: raisins for some, chocolate chips for others, gummy bears for the ones who thought that would be funny. She liked to ride bikes but wasn’t a cyclist in the spandex-clad sense. Riding with her on the Elephant Rock Ride was a highlight. She enjoyed hiking as much as her blown-out knees would let her. She played soccer even while pregnant with her third kid. She loved living in Colorado, but missed autumns in Massachusetts. If anyone was going to be able to survive an apocalypse, it was Mom and her backyard greenhouse and garden.

Many times I remember how she was sitting on the edge of her bed and I was helping her get into bed for the night. She leaned over and kissed my arm and mouthed “I love you” because she couldn’t speak or write anymore. I told her I’d be back in the morning. And that’s the last conversation we had.

I know I’m not the first and won’t be the last to lose a parent, to have things unsaid and undone with no recourse. To wrestle with the understanding a person is not just your parent, but also their own Self and someone else’s child. That we are all complex individuals trying to figure out what life means and how we want to live it. Watching my mom make her choices (and seeing the impacts of some of those choices after her death) has given me the initiative to take care of my own affairs: write a will, tell my loved ones what my wishes are, make sure my life insurance is up to date and will make sure everything is taken care of when I can no longer care for my family. Do the best I can to make sure my children know they are loved every single day simply because they exist – and that they don’t need to agree with me on everything.

Thinking about death isn’t comfortable or fun – but I don’t want my kids calling the funeral home 18 hours before I die because death wasn’t considered an option in my life.

We have one life to live – live it well.

miss you mom

Jacqueline Vera Block Haag May 9, 1951 – September 16, 2023

(mom’s full obituary)

Rebirth of Cool

how I got back on the horse

What a difference a month (and a lot of Doing Hard Work) makes.

GRUSK RECAP

The week after I last posted, I made the 8-hour drive to Circleville, WV, for GRUSK. I had originally signed up for the 3-day non-competitive bikepacking route back in January but switched to the day ride option when it became apparent I would not be in any shape to actually go on a 3-day bikepacking trip. As much planning as I do, there’s still a lot of stress and anxiety around doing something in a new place. Right before the deadline to switch categories, I downgraded again to the 50-mile route. 50 miles is very achievable.

I agreed to be the SPOT contact for my friend Curt, who opted to try for an ITT on the 2-day bikepacking route that went out while I was making my way down the interstate. Just before I fell out of cell service, I received a text:

Scratching. See you tonight; riding back to camp.

My brain was shocked; my heart was immediately happy. While it wasn’t great he was scratching (what happened?) I was not so secretly excited about actually being able to ride bikes together on the day ride.

There is no cell service for an hour’s drive in all directions from the venue, so communicating was challenging, but we eventually met up at registration. I unloaded my stuff into my dorm room and parked by his campsite.

The event itself is fantastic – packet pickup was easy, pre-ordered items were ready, and the food was plentiful and delicious. Over dinner Curt shared why he decided to scratch and that he too was looking forward to more time to hang out and talk. We had so much to catch up on.

It’s July and I know better than to sign up for events in July because it’s usually hot, sometimes muggy, and I don’t do well in the heat especially now that I’m on antidepressants. But here we are – it’s expected to be in the upper-80s/low 90s.

I wake up feeling remarkably calm. Normal even. Over breakfast I decide to load the 32mi route just in case. I’ll make up my mind on the road.

We head out around 9:30am under clear blue skies and temps in the mid-70s. The wonderful descent to start quickly becomes a succession of long 5+ mile climbs as we make our way up Spruce Knob. I’m pedaling my usual steady pace and sweating buckets.

West Virginia is beautiful!! The shaded woods roads and gradual grades made for a pleasant climb. The descent was boneshaking (WV gravel is decidedly not pristine) and before you know it, we’re back to climbing. The two-track was a nice diversion from the wide gravel roads. Long descent to the aid station.

The aid station is in the full sun. It’s also conveniently where the 50-miler and the 32-miler diverge. Curt has already decided to take the shorter route due to some bike issues. I decided it’s better to ride with a friend than ride for mileage.

We spin back to the start (remember that nice downhill? it’s now the final climb haha), get cleaned up, and I head over to where Curt is camping. We spent the rest of the day under an umbrella talking, quietly reading, eating snacks, and generally catching up on life. Without cell service, it’s blissfully present.

near sunset from top of Spruce Knob
this, all day
near the end of a loooong descent
delicious two-track
View from the top
Adventure Duo Reunite!

The event had a whole party after the ride—people were coming in at all hours, some from bikepacking and others from enjoying the day. Many on the longer routes had salt-encrusted jerseys and shorts, which only reinforced my decision to cut the ride shorter.

Whether you ride 32 miles or 320 miles, you still did the event.

The band played until 11pm. The next morning, we had breakfast (I cannot stress how delicious and copious the food was) and headed out our separate ways. I was still feeling mostly normal, which felt miraculous. I was happy, calm, and without worry. After the last four months, it’s a relief.

coming next

The last two weekends I spent trying to get outside to ride with friends. One day we met up in Millerton, NY to do a three-state ride up Mount Riga, down Sunset Ridge, and back to our cars on the newly completed Harlem Valley Rail Trail. Perfect day with hot but not as muggy temps to be with friends. On our way back it started to sprinkle, which felt amazing after being hot and sweaty all afternoon. The sprinkle turned to a light rain and before we knew it, it was a downpour thunderstorm. There was a distinct moment when the water finally ingressed our shoes – at that point, you’re just soaked, and all you can do is pedal.

Last weekend I headed up to Vermont with Karen for a weekend of bikes and car camping. We rode out from Molly Stark State Park over to Green Mountain National Forest, over to Stratton, and made our way south on as many backroads as possible. The route had a few roads that turned out to be private or the “road” indicated on Ride with GPS maps didn’t actually punch through – so we had some reroutes, but overall had a wonderful day. Blessed again with perfect temps, low humidity, and nary another cyclist in sight. Cleaned up at the shower house and headed into town for a well-deserved dinner.

The second morning, Karen had to get back early, so I went out on a short ride before making the 3-hour drive home. It did not disappoint, and in many places, I felt very aware of my soloness and gender but also blissfully able to ride on my own terms, at my own pace. Vermont truly is a gem of our corner of the world.

This weekend has been excessively hot—humidity is high, dew points are over 72*F, and I’ve spent the weekend inside. My anxiety still rises for no reason, and I have to reason with myself, never an easy feat. But it helps—why am I feeling anxious? What is causing this? How can I let my body know it doesn’t need to be on edge?

Next weekend, I’ll be heading to Colorado for a long vacation full of family and friends. I spent yesterday evening boxing up my bike because I only have two more trainer workouts before we leave, and I don’t have time or inclination to go outside when it’s this gross out. It’s hard enough to take the dogs on a walk.

I’m still waffling on attending SBT GVL. I downgraded my route to the 56 miler, which again, is very achievable, and starts at 6:45am so I’ll be done before Noon (and before the heat really gets up there). I want to ride the roads; I don’t need the festival or the pre-events. Ultimately, it will come down to a game-day decision (well, a few days out since we plan to head up to Steamboat on the Friday before).

I’ve made plans to ride with my other adventure partner Jess while I’m down there. A simple day ride that looks incredible and will be a nice test of how I’m acclimating.

I’m basically trying to stay focused on each day, reduce stress as much as possible, eliminate anything that isn’t bringing me joy or makes me feel anxious – and talk myself through the rest. I will be staying with my dad while I’m in Colorado Springs, and I’m optimistic this trip home will help me find some closure. In some ways, I feel like my anxiety remains high because I live so far away and haven’t been able to truly integrate the absence of my mom. My emotions are still somewhat stuck in the post-funeral discombobulation. I see my sisters doing things with our dad, and in so many ways, I want that for myself, too.

It’s OK to not be OK. This isn’t permanent. You’ve done amazing things and you will do amazing things again. Taking time away doesn’t diminish your worth. Everyone needs a break.

Until next time ….

Stop!

If you came here just to read about bikes and bike adventures, this is not the post for you.

My body is screaming at me to stop.

I’m tired, I consistently feel nauseated, and/or have abdominal pain where I shouldn’t feel pain; my legs feel heavy, like I’m wading thigh-deep through pudding.

It’s been like this since March, possibly last December when I had the first of a few successive two-week stomach bugs. It’s (exceptionally) slowly getting less intrusive in my life, but it’s still a question if I will wake up any given morning feeling closer to normal—whatever that is anymore.

I took May off from doing anything more than walking my dogs every day. I went mountain biking with my girlfriends for three days, which was fun except for the low-grade nausea and pain.

In June, I tried to go camping and biking with one of my best friends, but I ended up staying the entire time at camp while my friends went off for a ride because my body would not cooperate and settle down.

I’ve continued to train on my indoor trainer and ride outside when I muster the energy, but had to make the incredibly difficult decision to bow out of the 3-day bikepacking ride I’d signed up for in favor of attending the day-ride option. I have zero confidence I can handle the stress of riding and surviving for a few days not knowing how I will feel any given morning.

Egos do not go quietly when a hard decision has to be made.

Yesterday I sat across from my GI doc, reviewing yet another scan that confirms only my internal organs are totally fine and at the pinnacle of health. There’s one more test she suggested. I asked her what she would do if she was in my shoes. So we’re doing the test next week to ensure a weird portion of the image from my latest scan is, indeed, nothing to worry about.

Could stress and grief play a role in this? Probably. The depth of my grief over my mom’s passing is far deeper than I thought possible. I spend my bi-weekly therapy visits sobbing because talking about my mom can sometimes trigger very deep, powerful emotions.

Emotions are like a water line. Some people are out on the branches and can shed a cute tear; some of us are connected to the main, and any break in the facade is a gush. There is only ugly crying for us.

But there are physical issues too – both my doctor and my therapist agree this isn’t all in my head; there is a physical component.

I just want to feel like a human again.

I was going to go for a bike ride today, but my body is screaming at me to stop. I slept 12 hours last night; I was so exhausted yesterday that I was in bed by 8:30 p.m. So today, I am listening (and thankful for the long holiday weekend, so I don’t have to think about work for a few days). I will focus on finishing my house chores and then hunkering down with a book.

Thank goodness for libraries. Reading has been my best de-stressor in the last few months.

Anyway – thanks for reading. I’m hopeful to feel better by the time I head to Colorado next month, but not really holding my breath. I’m going to keep training as if I’m definitely riding SBT GVL, but there’s a distinct possibility I will have to bow out, or reduce my distance, because of health issues.

Not my favorite place to be right now, but it’s where I’m at and I need to listen to my body. And avoid bike-related social media because it’s super jealousy-inducing right now. I don’t need to be reminded that the rest of the world can and should carry on without me.

Until next time ….

Lu Lacka Wyco Hundo 2024

do it for the tacos

Capping off my Spring Classics trio is the iconic Lu Lacka Wyco Hundo in Pittston, PA. This, along with Rasputitsa, was the main reason I spent the winter on the trainer three days a week.

2024 marks 12 years of LLWH goodness. It’s the ride I read about when Selene Yeager was writing as Fit Chick for Bicycling Magazine back in 2013ish, brand new to cycling, and thought “I want to be able to do that event someday.” Wisely (for once – ha!), I didn’t attempt it back when I was a novice cyclist.

Last weekend at Rasputitsa (admittedly a very different latitude), it was cool (40s*F) and it snowed. Yesterday it was 80*F and brilliantly sunny. LLWH definitely won in the weather department because it was relatively dry leading up to the event and the gravel roads were in excellent shape.

Saturday afternoon I made the relatively short drive (2.5hrs) to Pittston, PA – an easy jawn down I-84. The pre-ride materials indicated packet pickup was from 1-8pm at the brewery, however when I arrived at 7pm, I learned they had closed it at 6pm. Since I’m not a beet drinker, I found Tony’s Pizzeria and picked up a pie and a salad before returning to my hotel room for the night.

I’m still dealing with GI issues, and Saturday had been one of the “bad” days for nausea. This, of course, triggers my anxiety because I know hard efforts require good fueling strategies, and I was having issues just eating enough for baseline caloric needs. I’ve added digestive enzymes into my repertoire as my food logging doesn’t provide insight into triggers.

I signed up for the event solo and rode by myself most of the day, yo-yoing with a few people throughout the day. The routes had various offshoots from a core route, making it possible to see people who had gone out before you on a longer distance later in the day. I originally signed up for the 75 miler, but downgraded to 63 the morning of based on the previous day’s feeling. Knowing all routes go to the first rest stop, I knew I had an out if I needed/wanted to end my ride early.

Pennsylvania is vastly underrated for cycling, featuring wide open farmland, steep hills, and abandoned highways that nature is slowly taking over. Riding this event reminded me of my time living just outside Philadelphia and going on bike explorations every weekend with my best bike friend Ken. Also of my multiple tours on the Ride for Homes fundraising event benefiting Habitat for Humanity Philadelphia. It just felt familiar and comfortable.

One of the things I appreciated about this event was how down-to-earth the ride was intended to be. The pre-event communication included logistics, but also a pace sheet so you could make sure the aid stations were open for your given pace and route. “take pictures and enjoy the ride. If today isn’t your day, just follow the next shorter route. Don’t use Google to get back to the start – it will put you on roads that will be a very bad time. We won’t leave anyone out there.” It felt like a friend of a friend was giving pro tips on a route they created. The only time limit was to be done by dark.

the ride

It’s cloudy and misty as I roll up to the Jenkins Township firehouse. The temps are in the mid-50s*F, which felt nice for my running-hot tendencies. I picked up my ride plate, t shirt, and bought a poster. I decided I probably only needed a vest over my lightweight wool t shirt. Paired with my trail shorts, mesh bib liners, and a zero-weight baselayer, I was ready for a long day in the saddle. I was also one of Very Few not wearing a full road cycling kit. Most of the Very Serious Cyclists on the hundred-miler had already left at 8am; I had planned to go out with the 9am Mass Start.

The mass start had the founder, Pat, leading us out in his truck which was helpful due to the first few miles rolling through downtown Pittston.

The route itself starts mellow and flat, riding along the east side of the Susquehanna River. I stopped to take a photo of a roadside waterfall and continued along at a measured pace. The first hill arrived at mile 13 and was a model for most of the hills to come. It was about 8/10ths of a mile averaging 8.5%. Many were already walking. By now, the sun is out and many of us are taking off warmer clothing from the start. I ditched the vest and switched to fingerless gloves.

The route meanders around the farmland on mostly exposed roads with very little tree cover. Exposure is my nemesis, but it was temperate out. Sweat up the hill, cool down on the descent. I was glad I applied sunscreen and bug spray before heading out.

The first aid station was at mile 25 and was well stocked with bananas, pb&js on white bread, oranges, and plenty of water and Hammer nutrition electrolyte mix. I grabbed a banana, refilled my water bottle, and examined the routes. I wasn’t nauseous, but I also wasn’t feeling hungry. I ate the rest of my Clifbar and the banana. Looking at the 40, I would be going back on roads I’ve already ridden on; looking at the 63, I’d get to see the other side of the river and hit all three counties (Luzerne, Lackawanna, and Wyoming Counties). Plus, it’s only 20 miles to the next aid station and only two or three big hills. I decided to keep moving on the 63.

Every time a group of men passed me, at least one said “good job” as they floated by. I know it’s not condescending and intended to be supportive but it always irritates me. Do they say that to other men when they pass them? I doubt it. I may not be fast but I am strong and I can ride bikes all day long and not be completely useless at the end of the day. I do my best to ignore my feelings.

As luck would have it, I also saw the photographers on the course many times. I’m hopeful at least a few came out nice; I always smile or laugh and try to make it look like I’m not mashing my granny gear up a steep hill.

The second aid station was the taco stop. Lots of people sprawled out on the grass across the road from the tent with sodas and tacos; other offerings included oranges, bananas, pb&js, and other typical aid station fare. I wanted to get a taco and just chillax for a bit, but my stomach was not happy and I was forcing myself to eat. I ate a banana, refilled my bottles, and headed out after a brief break. Only 20 miles left in the ride and only 3 more significant climbs before an epic descent back into Pittston.

Sometime around mile 53 I stopped to eat some fruit snacks and almost immediately felt queasy. I dialed back the pace even more as I pedaled up the final climb. I even got off and pushed my bike up a short but steep hill to see if that helped. (it didn’t, but it did give me a chance to work different muscles for a bit)

Rolling back into town, I overshot a turn and saw the photographer waving his hands at me from the side of the road. I doubled back and the route put us on a trail of railroad-grade gravel next to the tracks that eventually gave way to a grassy doubletrack trail. I hope that photo turned out!

I checked in at the finish (every rider was accounted for at each aid station to ensure no one was left out on the route) and decided to skip the post-ride meal in favor of getting back on the road towards home. (fear not, dear reader, I picked up fast food to eat on the drive) It looked like they were offering pizza or pasta and beverages. Perhaps if I had a friend I would have stuck around to talk about the day and how nice the ride was.

in closing

Overall, I’m glad I gutted it out (again) to do the whole route. LLWH is hard in a different way than Vermont gravel is hard so it would be difficult to compare the two. After the first 13 miles, there are almost no flat portions – you are either riding up a hill or down a hill. I also got sunburned because I didn’t get as much sunscreen on my arms and legs as I thought. ope.

Would I recommend this ride to others? Enthusiastically yes. There are options for fast people, slow people, and everything in-between. The vibe is chill, the food is bountiful at the aid stations (and have port-o-potties), and the route is beautiful. For $85, this was exactly what I needed it to be.

You just need to be OK with lots of roads trending up.

I have a few weeks before the Girls + Matt MTB weekend up at Slate Valley in Vermont that I’m looking forward to. No training rides, just a few weeks of fun rides with friends as the weather gets nicer.

See you out there!

Rasputitsa Dirt 2024

like the weather, a mixed bag

Rasputitsa is an iconic Northeast spring classic in all the best ways: ridiculous route, unpredictable weather, and conditions that might be amazing but just as easily might bring you to your knees. Originally hosted at Jay Peak, the event moved to Burke Mountain for several years and experienced tremendous growth as gravel took off and riders kept looking for events that were ever more bonkers. Their signature Cyberia section has humbled many a rider, with either deep snow or mud depending on how the spring thaw is going. Photos and hype reels from past events show a party atmosphere and plenty of party-pace riders enjoying post-ride fire pits, a beverage, and some hot food.

A friend did Rasputitsa a few years back and reported it was an incredibly challenging route, especially Cyberia, but was fun overall. Good vibes, good times.

With 2024 seeing the 10th anniversary of the event and a return to Jay Peak, I finally decided to register and test my legs against Vermont Gravel in mud season. A few friends also registered so I was looking forward to a great day on the bike.

Unfortunately, I’ve been dealing with some severe anxiety issues rooted in unprocessed grief and stress that blossomed into physical manifestations. My biggest concern going into the day was if I would feel well enough to eat enough food to support the effort this ride would require.

The morning of the ride, Karen and I sat in the living room of the cottage we rented and stared at the snow falling outside. This day could go any way weather-wise; we prayed the sun would make an appearance and we would finish before the rain was expected in the afternoon.

Let’s start with the positive

Rasputitsa’s route did not disappoint. At 55 miles and nearly 6,000′ of climbing, it’s already one of the longer spring gravel rides in late April. I definitely spent my winter consistently on the trainer and riding outside on the rare weekend it didn’t rain (thanks, global warming) to ensure the ride wasn’t a death march – and that work paid off. The bulk of the ride was on the rolling hills of the Northeast Kingdom, with fully half of the climbing in the last 6 or 7 miles.

Was there mud? Of Course! Right off the start, we were sent onto a thawed XC ski trail that quickly devolved into ankle-deep, greasy, smelly mud. A few people tried to ride and discovered random deep pits of sludge. Lots of hike a bike here. The next section of mud was on the logging road – the south side was rideable but the north side was back to the thick, greasy mud and more hike a bike. The final section was in the last 2 miles, back onto the XC ski trails.

The dirt roads that comprised most of the route were in spectacular shape and offered up the best Vermont farmland and gorges. It’s always a pleasure to ride bikes in Vermont – especially when the hills are there but not super steep, long, or brutal.

The rest stops had friendly volunteers. Every intersection had law enforcement and/or volunteer to help riders through intersections by stopping traffic as needed – which was refreshingly nice. Even backroad turns had a volunteer with a cowbell yelling encouragement.

Makesi Duncan of DadBod Cycling fame. Super nice guy

Quite possibly, my absolute favorite part of the ride was the 4-mile climb up a logging road. A mile or so into the climb featured an unexpected aid station and the Grounded Nebraska hype squad. We paused to take a swig of a Coke, eat some fruit Newtons, chat with the homeowner, and pet his adorable, wiggly dogs before continuing up the mountain.

… and now the not so great

If I’m being super honest, I didn’t get the party vibe. I didn’t get the inclusive vibe. The event felt like a hollow husk of what Rasputitsa is known for.

When we showed up to get our bike plates and drop off non-perishable goods for a community donation, it wasn’t acknowledged; we put our stuff down on the table while the volunteers chatted behind the table. We got checked in very quickly, but no further information given about where the expo booths were located.

The rest stop fare selection was meager – water, maple syrup, and potato chips. No port-o-potties. I didn’t see any EMS or SAG. For $160 registration fee, I expected more options – even if I was in the last quarter of the riders out on course.

(I was not feeling well due to aforementioned stress-induced GI issues; I almost didn’t ride but decided I could always make a decision at the first rest stop. When I asked a volunteer if there was a way to get back to the start, the only vehicle designated as a potential option was at the next aid station with no plan to come back to the first aid station. I decided to keep riding and hope I didn’t feel worse.)

The thick mud at the start was like “of course. rasputitsa; impassable mud season. I get it” – the thick mud at the end of the ride felt casually unnecessary. Believe me, I really enjoy challenging conditions and perk up when the road tilts skyward. I didn’t love dragging my bike through the thick mud while trying to keep my shoes on my feet when I’m within 2 miles of the finish.

Someone might say that is part of the charm; I won’t die on this hill. Perhaps another day I would have loved it.

When we finally rolled over the finish line, no one was cheering; a handful of volunteers were standing around talking to each other. We wanted to rinse off our bikes, but the line was long and our sweat was starting to freeze so we rode back to our accommodations for a hot shower and then getting dinner.

In Closing

Did we accomplish something significant? Yes.

Is this the hardest thing I’ve ever done? No.

Would I recommend Rasputitsa to a friend? MAYBE.

I get the sense that Rasputitsa used to be a wild party good time; this year felt like the exact opposite. The price is high and I didn’t feel like I got my money’s worth.

We didn’t participate in the shakeout ride (I had a 6 hour drive to get to Jay); we skipped the concerts in favor of hanging out and talking; we skipped the Day After day at the waterpark; we didn’t go watch the film. So it’s not like there weren’t things to do; I just don’t think those make the ride experience.

Maybe I was spoiled attending Mid South last year and being absolutely blown away by how real the hype is. Maybe I missed Rasputitsa’s heyday, like seeing the Misfits when it’s really only one guy from the original band. Did I really see the Misfits?

Although the Grounded Nebraska team was a true highlight and genuinely the best. Their event was on my radar after Mid South last year; now I plan to attend in the next year.

I wanted to have a great time. Likely dealing with GI issues for 40 miles influenced some of this; fortunately, I was feeling much better by the time the hills started in earnest, which was a relief. I ended the ride on a high note.

I’m super conflicted. It cost a lot of money and time to attend this event and I’m not sure I got what I came for: a great day on the bike in a raucous party atmosphere.

I’ve got another event next weekend so hoping to end my three-week run of spring classics on a high note.

See you out there!

Moving forever forward

2023 has been a year of tremendous accomplishment and bottomless grief. I spent some time meditating on what themes 2024 will encompass and two came to me clear as tingsha bells bring us back to the current consciousness.

  1. Bring intention into all decisions.
  2. The right moment to go home will reveal itself in due time.

I’ve started to put bike events on the calendar – Rasputitsa and Lu Lacka Wyco in April and SBT GRVL in August – but am otherwise keeping my schedule clear to ensure I can make intentional decisions on where to spend my energy. Like booking a fat bike weekend in February with my best bike girlfriends and the revival of our annual Girls (+Matt) MTB Weekend over Memorial Day weekend.

Year in Review

January found me in the middle of my first-ever indoor trainer workout plan, fat biking with friends, and lots of dog walks. I had a bunch of photos of my family printed and framed in my home office.

February brought a tremendously fun fat bike weekend in Vermont with girlfriends, a trip to the dog park, and a long weekend in Philly to see my eldest kid.

March saw a long-time friend out to New York for a visit, a trip West to Oklahoma for The Mid South, trailwork, and the passing of my beloved beagle, Beauregard (he was 14.5). I had a very sharp sunburn line that remained all summer. I also completely abandoned any indoor training for three months.

April we brought home two bonded chi-weenie-rat terriers who we love more than anything, a trip to Vermont with the in-laws, my adventure buddy moving away, and the always fun B2G2. I put the two-inch tires on my gravel bike to get used to it for my summer bikepacking trip.

May featured a trip to ride the heart of Greasy Joe’s mixed terrain and the always challenging Farmer’s Daughter Gravel Grinder. My middle kid came home for a visit and fell in love with the new doggies.

June started with my great-uncle Benjamin passing away. The weather was really fickle for the annual KT MTB weekend – so hard to find time to ride without getting soaked or mud-splattered. I spent a lot of time on the indoor trainer again to build capacity and riding the multi-use trails in Fahnestock State Park. My planned trip home to Colorado was canceled – but I ended up having to fly out urgently to see my mom. She had fluid building up in her pleural space that was slowly collapsing her lungs.

July – I was able to get home feeling my Mom was stable again and she was able to get surgery to install a drain for the fluid. I turned 46. We took a trip to Buffalo to see my middle kid and go to Niagara Falls (both sides). Pro tip: border agents do not want to know how funny you can be. I shuttered my Twitter (X) accounts and volunteered to sweep the Macedonia Gravel ride.

August was the taper month and I went to go ride bikes with friends in Connecticut. and then I flew to Minnesota with my friend Jess and spent two glorious weeks bikepacking with zero cares except to eat, ride bikes, and get to the next campsite. Transformative is the only way to describe the trip; by far the most epic thing I’ve ever done in my life. You can read about it here.

September, I got home, sent my tent poleset out for repairs, and promptly got a nasty cold. As soon as my cold was getting better, my mom declined very suddenly. Everything felt nebulous until I was approved to talk to her hospice nurse; I booked a ticket home the next day. I spent Mom’s last 24 hours with her and Dad and the following two weeks in a numb state of grief. Jewish tradition teaches the first month is for the spouse to mourn deeply; for the kids, it’s the first year following a parent’s death. Feels accurate from a kid’s POV.

October was hard. I managed to get out for a bike ride with the women I bikepacked in North Carolina with. I wrote a thank you note to the hospice team who cared for Mom. I didn’t go home for Mom’s interment. Ended the month riding the Gravel Goblin with friends the day before the event (it was 72* and sunny whereas the day of the event was 46* and soggy). Pete and I celebrated our 26th wedding anniversary.

grief is funny – I laughed so hard I cried at this

November flew by – rode a gnarly route I created for an event to check conditions and had to make significant adjustments for the event. Went to Maine for a long weekend with Pete. Mom’s headstone was placed. My dad and my kids all came home for a chaotic Thanksgiving weekend. I found out I was selected as a Bikepacking Roots Community Steward.

And that brings us to December. I rode Ice Weasels in a Bumble the Abominable Snowman costume. I got into SBT GRVL for 2024. I rode bikes and had a blast at my company’s holiday party (it was disco-themed so you know I bought a cheap silver dress and matching shoes). We finally got our kitchen sink and faucet replaced, which means all our kitchen appliances have been swapped out – and it’s functionally a brand-new kitchen. I made homemade marshmallows, which was easier than I thought. I make royal icing for sugar cookies, and while it’s easy to make, it’s not easy to apply if you don’t have the right tools to apply it precisely.

We always say – you only live once – life is short – live life with no regrets. This year has driven home that message in a very acute way. I find myself randomly thinking about my mom or seeing things that bring her to mind. The truth is we find immortality in the memories of those who knew us and loved us.

I still feel the pull to move back West but I need to wrap up things out East first. I am thankful we live in a time where we can video call or text (or yes, even make a phone call) to stay connected with loved ones. I’m relishing the time we have here, whether it’s 6 months or 6 years more.

Hope you, dear reader, have a happy, healthy holiday season and a prosperous new year. May 2024 be better to us all.

Grief is fickle

“I’m not good at this” I told my dad as I let the deep, heaving sobs leave my body.

“No one is” he said.

This past Monday, Oct 16, marked one month since my mom died. On Tuesday, my dad was the sole attendee at her interment. When asked how he was doing, he replied “very tearful because I got to hold Mom for another minute.”

All the Big Feelings flooded in.

Dad holding Mom one last time

This post feels self-indulgent – however, I process by writing. And riding my bike and hiking. But mostly in getting thoughts out of my head.

When I stay busy, when I’m working – I feel like I can handle the moving forward part. It’s the weekends that seem to get me, where my motivation to power through and “be strong” falters. I still get up and do the things I need to do … but more often I find myself simultaneously wanting to do something – anything – to keep my brain occupied … and not wanting to do anything at all ever.

I know that time is the only thing that will reduce the impact of this bruise. I don’t want to stay busy just to avoid feeling sad. My sisters all seem to be doing just fine these days – staying busy, working, being with their kids. I feel like I’m off on an island with a rowboat that is still being built.

It’s OK to feel sad too – even though I know my relationship with my mom was strained over politics the past 7 years. I don’t have any regrets about how we conducted our relationship. I often think back to the stories Dad told about their lives together and how much Mom modeled being the Good in the world. Even if we didn’t agree on the definition of Good every time, I see how she met each of us mostly where we were.

Although even a week or so before she passed, she sent me texts about how she still wanted me to reconsider embracing our Jewish ancestry and become Catholic. For your eternal soul. It’s only been well over a decade since I formally converted. Sitting at the Funeral Mass, I have zero regrets.

I think about my dad a lot too. He seems to be holding up relatively well and for the first time in our lives, we get to hear from him and build a relationship with him. He’s clear-eyed about this and I sense he was grateful for the opportunity to care for Mom in a way that helped her feel loved, cared for, and safe. I know he struggled before her death with thinking he might mess up something – but when someone is dying, we know the outcome regardless of our actions. All we can do is the best we can.

At the very least, it’s prompted me to get our wills written and wishes known to our kids. Dad’s been clear about what he wants when he dies, which I am grateful for. Mom never wanted to talk about it – you’ll know where it (her will) is when the time comes. I was literally calling a funeral home 16 hours before she passed to make arrangements. She couldn’t talk at the time so Dad told me what they had previously discussed and she nodded when I asked her to confirm what Dad said was correct. Spoilers: it took Dad a few weeks to find her will.

Failure was never an option in Mom’s book – but death comes for all of us despite all our protests.

I wrote a brief thank you note to the hospice workers who cared for Mom. In looking for the right card, I found this one on Etsy. I love the vibrancy of the image – truly a living, breathing Tree of Life.

Living, Breathing Tree by Madeline Pires

I saw this on a silly Buzzfeed listicle (53 of the funniest text messages or something like that) the other day and laughed much harder than this image deserves – so hard I cried.

Just let me cry / a little bit longer
I ain’t gonna smile / if I don’t want to
-Paramore

A few weeks ago I dragged myself out of the house to go for a chill bike ride with friends. We rode around on beautiful Dutchess and Columbia County roads, stopping at breweries and scenic overlooks before noodling through the Bard College campus. As we were heading back, it started to lightly rain. We popped out next to a field to a beautiful double rainbow.

A nice reminder that there is beauty after hardship.

The emotional whiplash of completing an epic bike journey and coming home to find out your mom is in active decline was intense.

I had plans to ride bikes with my friends today, but canceled because I didn’t feel like I’d be good company today. Instead I took my dogs for a long walk and took a nap; got my house clean and did the laundry.

Pete got the new light fixtures installed in our bathroom so we got to check another item off our list of things we are fixing or replacing in our house. We’re hoping to be in a place to list the house in the spring. I know my feelings of urgency on that topic come from a place of sadness and desire to be with my family right now – but life is more complicated than just throwing things in a UHaul and driving across the country.

The only way out is through. Thanks for reading.