Category: Family

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 ….

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.

Exit, Stage Left

My mom, Jacqueline Vera Block Haag, died early on Saturday morning, September 16, 2023.

She was diagnosed with recurrent metastatic breast cancer in December 2023. The best case was we might get three years with her; the worst, she would be in hospice within months.

Well, we got 10 months.

I wish we had been able to do more together in that time, but politics and strong opinions and a determination that holistic options are the only valid options got in the way.

After my visit in June, Mom got a drain implanted to remove the fluid that was slowly collapsing her lungs. Within the first week, she had removed over a gallon of fluid, 200 ml at a time. She could breathe again, start to walk again, and sometimes, her voice returned. She found out she wasn’t actually allergic to a number of foods she had avoided for decades – and enjoyed tasting foods she hadn’t eaten in years. I started to think maybe we’d get a decent amount of time with her.

It was the calm before the storm.

Like many advanced cancer patients, she was doing great until she wasn’t. And the decline was precipitous. By the time I was looped into how poorly her condition was, she hadn’t really been eating for a week. She couldn’t walk anymore. Her handwriting, the way she was able to communicate with Dad and us effectively, became illegible. Her body failing was clearly frustrating her.

My dad became her full-time caregiver; my sisters visited when they could but mom would be sleepy and visits were around 5 minutes. She continued to lose muscle and weight and increased her oxygen needs to roughly equate to 2 gallons of air being pumped into her lungs every minute.

Dad gave her hospice nurse permission to talk to me about Mom and I got the real story for the first time. I am so thankful. I was able to book a flight home the next day.

On Friday, Sept 15, I spent the whole day with Dad and Mom. Exactly 7 years prior, she completed her radiation for the first round of breast cancer and rang the bell. I was surprised to see her sitting in her living room chair, but her eyes lit up and she smiled when I walked into the house. I gave her a hug; she was just skin and bones now.

I asked her if she had read about my last bike trip and she shook her head. I asked if she wanted me to tell her about it; she nodded. As I started to tell the story, she put her head down with her hands on the rolling table and motioned for me to keep talking while she rested.

So I told her about the trip. I talked about when we rode Elephant Rock together and when we rented fat bikes to go ride in a creekbed. I talked about my kids and how much they love her.

Mom hadn’t pre-planned her final wishes. So I asked what she wanted and made sure she nodded affirmatively after dad told me what they had discussed. I called a funeral home and got things set up.

Mom rested on the table a lot while I sat with her and chatted with my dad. I gave her a tiny amount of avocado for lunch.

When the hospice nurse came by, she was alarmed Mom was in her chair and insisted we move her back to her bed to avoid the risk of falling. Despite the high flow oxygen, her pulse-ox was only 91. We rolled her into her bedroom and got her sitting on the side of the bed. She immediately leaned into my dad and hooked her hands into his pockets. It took a bit, but we were able to give her the meds to help her relax and breathe easier.

I gave my mom a hug and she leaned into me before kissing my arm and whispered that she loved me so much.

The last thing I did was help mom get her legs into bed, find her sea turtle plush that she slept with, and smooth her bedding over her. I told her I’d be back tomorrow.

The hospice nurse told me what was to come next and I am so thankful she did. I relayed that information to Dad and I think we both hoped for at least one more day.

The next morning I am woken by a series of vibrations from my phone; that usually means lots of text messages are coming through. As I looked at my phone my sister came to where I was sleeping and said “Dad said Mom is not responsive. Are you ready to go over?”

We threw on our clothing, made coffee to go, and raced over there. We alerted our sister who had driven all night from Texas; she and her kids paid and left their breakfast spot immediately. My youngest sister had to drive across town.

I want to believe Mom was still able to hear us when we arrived, but it’s also possible she was already gone. We sat with her and cried, held her hands, and stroked her hair while we told her we loved her, that it’s OK to let go. She’s been through enough. My youngest sister collapsed on the floor when she saw Mom; Dad got on the floor to hug her and cry with her. We all have different ways of coping with immense grief. We all were able to say what we needed to say.

We took turns staying with her body until the hospice nurse came and confirmed what we all knew; Mom had passed. She carefully cleaned up Mom for the funeral home to take her body.

I will never forget how compassionate and loving all of the hospice and funeral workers were. They treated Mom with dignity and respect and informed us of everything they were doing. I am so grateful to those who answer that calling to be with families during their time of enormous grief.

A few hours later, two of my sisters and I decided to go for a strenuous hike to help work through our emotions. We listened to music that reminds us of Mom on the way over. The ability to talk and push our bodies a bit helped give us space to grieve.

We made sure to be with Dad, to cry with him and remember Mom. Friends started delivering food to us, so we had dinner together as a family for a few nights. We helped Dad make a checklist of things he needs to do to close out mom’s accounts, notify people of her passing, and begin the process of donating or selling things he no longer needs. I wrote Mom’s obituary from a 4-hour conversation with my dad about their life together; my sisters helped me edit it for clarity and consistency.

And then real life came back – I flew home and we all went back to work until the funeral, which is next week. It was a nice distraction. But I won’t lie – my mom’s passing has reminded me just how short life is and I don’t want to waste any more time living 2,000 miles away from my dad, my sisters, and my nieces and nephews.

I’m thankful I got to be home with my mom and spend so much time with her on her last day with us. I’m thankful for the love and care my dad gave my mom in her final months. I am thankful for the hospice team and the funeral home team for their professionalism, compassion, and empathy. I am thankful I was able to come home to my own family and be given space to grieve. I am thankful to my boss and my coworkers for not just covering for me, but encouraging me to take as much time as I need.

We’re flying out for the funeral next week and I know that will be deeply emotional. Things will be Final Final. I expect grief will come in waves and hit especially hard when life’s brightest moments happen and I can’t share it with my mom. But I am also thankful that she is no longer suffering because cancer is awful and destroys one’s body.

She was a mom of four girls, a grandma to seven grandkids, an educator, an entrepreneur, a community organizer, and never backed down from an opportunity to stand up for what was right.

She loved spaniels, gardening, sewing, and cooking. Her personality filled the room and she always had big ideas. She remained active as long as she could – hiking, riding bikes, walking. She attended law school in her 60s and was active in her faith community.

Dad and Mom with three of their daughters and one of their seven grandchildren

Rest easy Mom. Your memory will be a blessing.

How The Story Goes

recounting the last few months

It’s hard to believe it’s been a minute since my last post. Not much has happened – the northeast has had a pretty rainy spring and summer so far, so I’ve been getting out and exploring as the weather allows.

April

April brought a family vacation in Vermont, and my adventure friend moved away. We also adopted a mother-daughter bonded pair of rat terrier-dachshund-chihuahuas after having to make a humane decision for our geriatric beagle, Beau. I love them more than is reasonable.

May

May was more fun rides with friends around the northeast.

June

June saw the rainiest weekend we’ve ever had for our annual Girls + Matt MTB Weekend at Kingdom Trails. That was frustrating because it’s a weekend I look forward to for most of the year to date, and to be limited in time out on the trails wasn’t optimal.

And then it feels like the world came off the rails. Specifically on June 28.

The last week of June

Pete and I had booked a trip back home to see my family at the end of June. As you may remember, my mom’s breast cancer returned, and after aborting a trip to see her in May, it was time to go spend time with her. But we got to the airport on Tuesday, June 27, only to find out the flight had been canceled literally as we were about to enter the security line. Thank goodness we were taking only carry-ons.

With many flights being canceled out of the NYC area, we couldn’t rebook the flight until Saturday, July 1. I grabbed the first direct flight available and decided to not take my previous vacation time since I’d be flying back on July 4 anyway. Pete decided to stay home with the dogs because it was a short trip.

Wednesday, June 28, my mom texted us that she was headed to the hospital with shortness of breath. And then, she checked herself out (AMA) because she didn’t want to stay in the hospital overnight.

It felt urgent to get home to see her.

I spent Thursday, June 29, refreshing Google Flights to find a flight home sooner. Whenever something came up, the ticket was no longer available when I reached the payment screen. Finally, I could land a flight for Friday, June 30, in the morning for an obscene amount of money (and connecting through Atlanta).

I notified my employer that I needed to be with family without any pushback. I love who I work for – they really understand family first. The Friday flight turned into an all-day odyssey, but my sisters picked me up at the airport.

July

Seeing Mom for the first time, in person, up close, since 2019 was jarring. She is a fraction of the size she used to be, uses supplemental oxygen, needs a wheelchair, and can barely speak above a whisper due to paralyzed vocal cords. But after talking with her (she uses a whiteboard for longer conversations), her Self is still there.

Spending time with my family as the sole focus of my trip was fantastically rewarding. We helped Mom and Dad as we could and talked a lot. I helped take Mom to one of her doctor appointments and then spent a few hours with her, making phone calls to set up other appointments, talking, and doing whatever she needed help around the house. She gets tired easily, so I returned to my sister’s for the rest of the day. She seemed stable and was getting her new high-flow oxygen system the next day.

My sister and I stayed up very late on July 4 talking. Like, unusually late for both of us. Around midnight I opted to head to where I was sleeping and get some sleep. As I was about to drift off, I heard my phone vibrate. I thought about not checking it, because it probably was just my email syncing or something.

It was my mom. Asking me to come to her house quickly. Because she was having oxygen issues.

I went upstairs to find my sister still on the couch (miraculously) and asked if she could drive me over. When we arrived, Dad was talking with the oxygen supplier technician about the issues they had all day.

What struck me was my mom. This tiny person, hunched over in her wheelchair, a jacket over her nightgown. My sister and I were able to move her to a quieter part of the house and she wrote like crazy to fill us in on what was going on. We affirmed this must feel very frustrating, and she mouthed YES! and then slumped over.

I reached over to hug her and she clung to me like a liferaft. The role reversal – the eldest child caring for the elderly parent – was palpable. Given I don’t live nearby, I was surprised but happy to be able to provide genuine comfort in a time of crisis. She asked me to help her. Not my sisters. Me. That counts for something.

My sister called the palliative care nurse while I got my mom to her bed and helped ensure her oxygen flow was correct so she could sleep. We talked to Dad about everything and agreed to regroup the next day with a palliative support company representative to learn more about what hospice could do to support Mom through this phase of her life. We were able to confirm she would have 24/7 support and Dad would get some caregiver relief by shifting to hospice. Mom was all about it because they promised it was about her and what she wanted.

I flew home on Thursday, July 6, uneventfully. (I did select First Class because I found a “reasonably” priced ticket and after everything in the last week, I wanted to not deal with travel stress). My friends and I canceled our weekend bikepacking plans (not just because of this – it seems a lot of things came up over the July 4 weekend).

So all this to say – I have zero regrets dropping everything to be with family. But I am experiencing FOMO coming back to see my friends all participating in life as usual. Which is totally normal and I’ll get through it. Mom was able to get a procedure today that has already improved her breathing.

I get that I’m not the only person in the world who has lost or is losing their parent or loved one. But this one is mine and it’s going to be a minute until I’m back to “normal,” whatever that is.

Thanks for reading.

My mom is dying

facing a very real expiration date

Last night I dreamed I was carrying a heavy bag and while most of the time I could handle the weight, occasionally it would get so heavy I could barely move. I would figure out how to keep moving, but the bag just weighed on my whole being.

Seven years ago, this time of the year, my mom was diagnosed with stage 4 breast cancer. Doctors threw the book at her – intense chemo, surgery, radiation. Watching the process that ingesting poison does to someone was rough – doubly worse for the person requiring the ingestion. The goal was to cure my mom of cancer and allow her to live. For five years my mom has been NED – no evidence of disease.

Year Six had other plans.

After several interesting health issues this year, a PET scan confirmed what no one wanted to hear: the cancer is back and it’s spread.

This time, there is no cure. There is no long runway. Treatment will be for the rest of her life, up to 3 years. Maybe more if we’re lucky.

Or she can choose not to treat it and start thinking about maximizing the remaining time she has left. The doctor believes she may need to go into hospice within the next 2-3 months without treatment.

What an unimaginable choice.

My first instinct is to go home, back to Colorado, so I can spend time with my family. Care and organization of whatever we as a family unit need to do to support our mom shouldn’t have to fall exclusively on one or two offspring. My dad will also need support, navigating the prospect of living without the person who’s been a constant for 50 years.

But I have a family here that also needs me – my husband, my youngest adult child still living at home, my elderly dog.

It feels overwhelming to think about my mom choosing to not treat the metastisized cancer – but it feels equally awful to prolong life with frequent doctor’s visits, medications, side effects. Living across the country affords me space to live my own life, but my mom is always a text or call away. There is now an expiration date on the ability to chat with her directly.

I think about the stories she’s told about before her kids were born – living in Europe while my dad was stationed in Germany. Photo albums with pictures of places I’ve never been and people I’ll never meet. I remember her best friend dying in her 30s from lung cancer and how that impacted Mom. I remember Girl Scouts and cross-country road trips to visit distant family. How she started a business selling posters with comfort suggestions for labor to doctors and hospitals to help provide a down payment for her mom to get her own condo.

Choosing to recall the positive over the negative.

But Mom isn’t dead yet. She hasn’t even decided if she wants to accept treatment or comfort.

I want to make sure we can help bring about pleasurable experiences while she can still enjoy them, whichever option she chooses. Visiting national parks, a trip to Florida to see where she went to law school for a year, whatever would make her heart feel full. Whether we have only a few months or a few years ……

The bag is heavy for me, but not nearly as heavy as the one my mom is holding.

Turn the Page to 2021

bike trip odometer reset to zero

The first day of the year …. a day that no matter what we did activity-wise in the last 365 days, the slate is wiped clean. Back to zero. The grind starts again.

I’ll be starting my year with doctor-advised rest to let my body heal. I’ve managed to create an overuse injury that needs time and variety to heal and allow for future bike adventures.

But I can’t help but start imagining what I’m hoping this year will bring.

photo by Dave Kraus, Kraus Grafik

Personal

This year will be transformative. My youngest child is expected to graduate from high school and head off to college, meaning it will just be my husband and I and the dogs in a few short months. Younger Me, sitting in the hospital after birthing her first child, could only dream of the day when her house and time would be her own again. I blinked, time happened, and the house doesn’t need to be this big anymore. We’re looking forward to helping our youngest get settled into the start of their adult life.

I start a new job on Monday, one that I am very excited for and see myself growing with over the next few years or so. Professional growth is vital to my mental well-being.

Continue with therapy to build and maintain healthy boundaries and explore areas that need some work.

more time with other bad ass women doing bad ass things

Active Plans

WALKING & HIKING – I plan to continue with daily walks as long as I am able to work from home. My senior dogs definitely appreciate that as well. Fresh air and all the smells. I picked up some trekking poles so I can get out and hike more without destroying my hips and knees.

YOGA – I started this year with a 10 minute meditation on Om and rededicating myself to a regular yoga practice. I’m not as disciplined when it’s home-based practice and I certainly look forward to when my studio can open back up. But I realize yoga is a huge part of my life that I miss. As I get older, my body also needs gentle stretching to stay limber and flexible.

BIKEPACKING – My arsenal of bikepacking gear is in good shape, so I’m planning to do more overnights/weekends and two longer trips:

* local overnights to various parks and forests in the Hudson Valley
* Brace Mountain & Beartown (3 days) in the tri-state area
* Roundabout Brattleboro (3 days) with some girlfriends, targeting June (pending vaccinations being readily available)
* Taste the Catskills (3 days) triple century is a strong Maybe
* Green Mountain Gravel Growler or VTXL (5 days) with my adventure partner (pending vaccinations being readily available)

2018 Farmer’s Daughter Gravel Grinder ft. 26mm gravel tires in 65 miles of sloppy mud

GRAVEL EVENTS – I’m also keeping an eye on gravel events. Given covid’s unchecked community spread, I won’t be able to run the Frozen Apple again this year unless we do it late in the season. I signed up for Farmer’s Daughter Gravel Grinder in May to have something to look forward to. But I’m also trying to keep it flexible because if 2020 taught us anything, it’s be ready to change plans.

I’m not sure yet if I want to target a bike goal this year other than having as much fun as possible. I love mountain biking and have been getting better in the last couple years, tackling terrain I previously was scared to think about. I enjoy riding on new roads and meeting up with friends to explore. I barely touch my road bike, but it’s super fun to ride because it’s titanium with carbon wheels so it flies.

Maybe it’s OK to just say I’m going to ride when I want and do other stuff when I want and find balance.

We have the whole year ahead of us … let’s make it a good one. See you out there.

Shortest Day of the Longest Year

real talk from a really long year

2020, am I right?

This year has been cray on top of the previous three years of political cray here in the US. At this point I’m pretty sure the Hadron Collider shuttled us into an alternate reality that we’re only now able to escape.

I’m sitting here two weeks from starting a new job, enjoying a few days off before becoming the New Kid At Work again. But wait, didn’t you just start a new job right as the pandemic unfolded? Yes, yes I did. Life is too short to waste time trying to please those who won’t appreciate it.

Despite the cray, it was still a pretty decent year. Instead of my usual bike pics, I’m going to share some of my favorite memes from the year because WHY NOT. For bike pics, check my Instagram.

January

We started the New Year back home in Colorado with family and friends. I continue to cherish spending the time together before the world seemed to fall apart. I celebrated Chinese New Year with my coworkers at a local Chinese restaurant. Laura, are you sure you want to go to a Chinese restaurant? You aren’t worried about coronavirus? Yes, I’m sure. I’m confident it won’t be an issue. I started a “training” series for those who wanted to ride my latest bike event brainchild, The Frozen Apple.

February

February involved more gravel riding, my youngest kid being featured in the school district art show, and a questionably-advised brewery and distillery trip with friends. Swag for the Frozen Apple arrived and I spent a lot of time ironing out details and getting volunteers.

March

March saw our world upended. I still can’t believe my goodbye happy hour was at a bar and we all hung out inside, laughing and talking and hugging multiple times. The simple joys of The Before Times. I then started a new job just across the bridge from NYC and 4 days later was advised to work from home for the foreseeable future. Westchester and NYS shut down. It was really scary to live in the epicenter county of a viral outbreak. So much panic buying at the grocery store. Then came the deep paycuts, reconfiguring our budget, and spending hours on hold trying to talk to a rep about mortgage payment relief. Finally see my GI doc. My youngest kid got to have the first Quarantine Birthday.

We end up canceling the Frozen Apple due to the president declaring a National Emergency.

April

April brought warmer weather and solo bike rides to help manage the stress and anxiety of Pandemic Times. Mask mandates begin and thing start to feel safer – but the grocery stores are still broadcasting an odd mix of 80s pop music and “During these trying times ….” messages. Feeling thankful we bought a huge set of toilet paper and paper towels when they were plentiful.

May

More solo gravel rides and I’m hitting my stride – seeing a big jump in speed and endurance. All signs point to an amazing bike year and I’m averaging over 100 feet of climbing per mile ridden. I buy myself a smartwatch to monitor my body metrics because it sounds interesting. My girlfriends and I lament not being able to have a Girls Bike Camping Weekend. I start to incorporate one other person on bike rides, and only mountain biking rides because it’s much easier to stay socially distant in the woods.

I’m also apparently in need of my gallbladder to be removed. So I bow out of a redux of Taste the Catskills.

June

June is a big pile of nothing. Elective surgeries had just started resuming within the last week or so so I’m thankful for the timing of having my gallbladder removed. I should write a post about that experience because there’s a lot that I thought I understood but really didn’t. Main take-away: Laparoscopic surgery is still major surgery. Next time, maybe take more than 3 days off work to recover. I rest, read, and walk the dogs. Celebrated another Quarantine Birthday for my oldest kid.

July

Ah yes, Birthday Month! Technically I’m allowed to bike again, but I keep it mellow and stop when my insides start to feel Not Great. I discover I still need to stay on a reduced fat diet (I decided to aim for 50g of fat per day because that felt ok) and add in digestive enzymes, which help tremendously. My oldest comes over for a long weekend visit. I turn 43.

August

Decide I’m officially IN for the Green Mountain Gravel Growler, a bikepacking trip my friend and I had been planning all year to do. A tropical storm knocks out our power so I have to go into the office to work for a day. It’s the weirdest feeling even though only a few others are there and the whole office has been rearranged to be socially distant and masks required when not at your desk. Work stress on top of everyday stress and anxiety are building up and my usual mechanisms aren’t working. I end up having an anxiety attack, signing up for therapy, and talking to my doctor about a low dose of SSRI.

I get my life back with therapy and Lexapro.

September

Training rides and bikepacking prep. Finally get a Girls Bike Weekend in the Berkshires and it’s everything we needed it to be. We booked adjacent campsites and brought all our own stuff (no sharing anything). We rode gravel and had campfires and talked. It felt magically to spend time with friends I love.

Green Mountain Gravel Growler pushed me to my limits and even though I had to push myself to the very end of my physical abilities, I have zero regrets and look forward to another week-long trip next year. I learned some valuable lessons and have some amazing stories to tell.

October

October started great – I recovered from my deep glycogen deficit and did some low-key rides with one or two others. I’m driving home one evening from running errands and notice a kitten in the road that looks like it may have been clipped by a car. So I stop and move it to the side of the road … and it bites me.

Cue a massively infected finger, several calls with the Dept of Health, and a mandate to go get a rabies vaccine. PEAK 2020: Potential for Death by Kitten.

I decide I don’t want to be working in the dining room anymore so we convert my middle kid’s room to an office. I redecorate with bike-themed posters. Pete and I celebrate 23 years of marriage. I decide my bike goal for this year is to average 100 feet of climbing per mile ridden.

November

I’m no political junkie but hot damn, this election was a roller coaster and I’m pleased with the outcome. I’m ready to get back to hating my elected officials a normal amount.

A rare warm November day meant I could meet up with my best bike girlfriends for a mixed terrain gravel ride upstate. I went solo camping with my senior beagle and had to cut it short because it was too cold for him. I rode bikes as much as I could.

December

As the year comes to a close, the long sleeve thermal jerseys come out, the days are too short, and it feels like time has been a raging river and slow as molasses. January and February feel so far away. But I have hope that with the covid vaccines being rolled out, we will have a shot to get back to mostly normal by this time next year.

I say mostly normal because this year has allowed space to refocus on what’s important. Suspending the things we distract ourselves with forces us to reckon with who we are, what we believe, and what we stand for.

My 70 year old dad got covid this month. He’s still not out of the woods yet but we are thankful he’s been able to ride it out at home so far.

A seemingly minor mountain biking injury blows up into a chronic knee issue so I have to abort my climbing-per-mile goal at an average of 99.4 feet of climbing per mile ridden. I’m not disappointed – this year is teaching me to be at peace with Good Enough (or Close Enough).

As I unwind myself from my current work obligations and prepare to engage in learning a new corporate culture and team, I am thankful for many things:

* Front-line employees and first responders
* The privilege to work from home
* My family
* Friends who also take the virus very seriously
* that this year is almost over

I’m still thinking of my bike goals for next year. To be sure they involve more bikepacking trips and hopefully time with friends and family again. And my middle kid will be celebrating his Quarantine Birthday later this month.

Until next year, keep the rubber side down and see you out there.