Disappearing behind the wheel

Ever since I was a little girl I had the same nightmare about my Mom:  As she was driving me home and we were passing a church in our neighborhood, I would suddenly realize that my Mom had disappeared behind the wheel and I was alone in this car.  In a car going full speed.  I would frantically look around and no one was in their yards, on the road, no other cars were in sight, I was alone in a car, desperately looking for my Mom to keep me safe from crashing and then suddenly I'd wake up.  The stress, abandonment and fear from that dream usually would linger for the rest of the day.

I've always wondered what that dream meant.  I can't help but correlate that with my current situation now.  While the people around me are flourishing with growing families and planning for their future I feel frozen in place, watching my Mom and childhood slip away alone.  Granted, I'm not completely alone, I have many wonderful friends and gentleman friend who I know will not hesitate to listen, help and support me if I ever need it from any of them.  I am extremely blessed for that but yet, I keep them all at arms length at times.  I feel separate and alone in coping with the slow loss of losing my Mom in comparison to their warm, loving and full homes.  I would rather take in their warmth than burst the bubble of the compartmentalizing I struggle to manage every day - I swear it is built of thin ice.  If I speak of it too often I'm afraid it will collapse.

I watched my brother's wedding video last night to commemorate his 10-year-Anniversary with his wife and was shocked to see the Mom I once knew.  In this video she was young, vibrant and constantly smiling.  She was playing with my oldest nephew, who was two and a half at the time, and she was glowing.  Dare I say stunning.  I never realized this about my Mother - that she could glow. That her smile was so bright and full of love. And she was beautiful.

Growing up with my Mom was one of my biggest challenges yet, in hindsight, one of my biggest character builders.  She was a complicated woman filled with an overabundance of stress and sensitivity.  She was quick to react instead of thinking first.  She was quick to get hurtful and irrationally angry.  She wanted to be loved so much yet could be quite rude to others.  She could be embarrassing.  She wanted our family to make memories and be together so much that the weight of her force would cause huge fights usually with her storming away in some fashion, disappointed that her expectations didn't come to fruition.  Yet, she also was capable of being so much more.  She tried so much to be the woman she was meant to be absent of hurt, fear and stress.  I blame her roadblock to self-actualization on her horrendous, loveless childhood.  But I digress.

I know now her original design was to be loving, compassionate, humorous, laid-back and joyful.  My resentment and hurt from being her daughter growing up prevented me from seeing that and truly appreciating her then.  I came to a point in my teenage years that I was sick and tired of carrying the burden of being angry with her so I channeled her quirks into opportunities for humorous situations.  Even though our relationship was still strained and difficult I was able to soak up her good moments (and even bad moments) and use them to tell good stories and laugh with her.  To develop a dark and twisted humor. To develop sarcasm.  To make myself laugh and be happy.  My favorite stand-up routine were always my "Mom Stories."  Stories that I can no longer tell.

Perhaps a lot of that coping skill now translates into my current job.  A descriptive paragraph that I will omit to keep my own promise to myself that I would never talk about my job on the internet.  But lemme tell ya, coping skills and compartmentalizing are in overdrive with some days I have at work.  There is a lot, a lot of heartache out there that I am helpless to stop and sometimes, by informing them of the truth, only makes their pain worse and me the object of their transference.  You laugh or you cry.  I am trying to laugh whenever I can.  But I digress.

It was only 10 years ago that my Mom was vibrant, happy, talkative and joyful at my brother's wedding.  I could not have imagined the place she'd be in just 10 years later.  It's like she's aged 25 years in a decade.  She is so much older, gray, tired and slipping away now.  Growing up she'd ask you an average of 50 questions when you walked in the door, (especially to friends who called for us on the phone) now I'd be overjoyed if she could just complete one question instead of stopping mid-sentence in a stare.  I always wonder - is she finishing the question in her head?  But I'll never know - dementia can be as mysterious as the sea.  Our time together is relegated to mostly sitting in silence or me having mostly one-sided conversations.  She does have some auto-responses like "No" (her favorite) or "Why'd you do that for?" Or "are you kidding?"  or "Please don't." She struggles to walk. She struggles to eat. There was a time after she suffered from a long bout of pneumonia where her condition plummeted so badly that the staff at her nursing home had a "End of Life Care" meeting with our family.  I remember as they were explaining all the life-saving measures that would be incredibly painful, I looked at my Mom, not expecting an answer, and asked "What do you think about that Mom?"  She answered quite innocently "I think I'll be OK."  I wept after that.  Just a few minutes earlier she had asked "Are you sure I have kids?"  I immediately thought of the empty car from my dreams.  My Mom had disappeared from the driver's seat and I was alone sitting next to it and the world won't stop when I need it to.

Watching her slip away feels like watching my childhood slip away.  My memories of growing up are disappearing with her.  I find myself looking at old pictures more and more now trying to regenerate the memories that I can no longer share with my Mom.  I can no longer hear about those cute and funny stories from my childhood and my family that only she knows best. Or only that she knows at all.  If only I knew earlier in my life how much I'd miss talking with her and having these conversations that I could only have with her. I find myself watching my nephews and my friends' children now and watching how lucky they are that their parents are loving them, making their moments special and documenting it all. I try my hardest to fill myself up with the sweetness and joy of their childhoods instead of mourning mine. 

 I feel as though my safety net of self is disappearing with her.  I feel the vulnerability and sense of feeling lost losing my Mom.  When I would get lost in a department store at a young age I always remembered the relief when my Mom somehow found me.  She always somehow found me.  And now she's disappeared.  And I am alone in the car again, with no one driving and no one else in sight just like my childhood dream.  There is no waking up; I have no choice but to see where this road takes me.  

The Long Goodbye

I remember I really stopped writing this blog when my Mom found it and I felt a vulnerable betrayal as a result - the answer was that I empowered myself by shutting it down.  Another display of my life-long struggle to keep my Mom at arm's length and shield her from my life outside of her.  That, and this is freaking time-consuming!  It really is - to try to be witty and use good grammar as you tell a story is time consuming.  My butt is already falling asleep.
Yet, as I sit here with tears rolling down my face I feel compelled to just get something, anything out of my system.

After months, even short years, of picking up the signs here and there that my Mom was aging too quickly everything came crashing down on New Years Eve when she was taken to Good Sam and spent a week in ICU.  The terrible reality that my family had been avoiding had made itself evident:  Mom had full blown dementia.  Worse, my Dad's secrets of how bad my Mom really was came into full light and the weight of the world that was on his shoulders were all slapping us in the face.  How he endured her daily care and trying to keep her dignity intact for so long is beyond an emotional and physical prison that I could imagine.  We had our suspicions of course but he was extremely guarded of us being at their house and what we were allowed to see of it's disarray as a result of his daily struggle with her.  I remember being angry that he wouldn't ask for help and my stubbornness from that anger cut my parents out of my life further.

The Doctors were matter-of-fact:  She can not go back home.  It was what my Dad needed to hear - to be given permission that there is no way that he could endure this on his own any longer.  They say caretakers' lives are greatly endangered because they give so much to the loved one they try to take care of.  I really don't know how much longer my Dad could have taken.

Years ago my Mom used to help me clean my place.  Don't judge me!  It was a symbiotic arrangement:  I got my place clean and she felt needed by a daughter who worked hard to push her away.  And here I am today - I had a wild hair to clean my place this afternoon and as a result the gravity of what's happening with my Mom hit me.  I avoid cleaning at all costs.  One could say I feel lost without my Mom just here, helping me, annoying me with her suggestions that actually worked.  Worse I would catch her snooping in my stuff if I didn't keep a close eye on her!  It was the cost-benefit situation of course and it was a usual routine for us. If I played my cards right she'd even pick up groceries.  My Mom stopped driving a few years ago after getting lost on the way home too many times scared her.  She kept on saying "I'll start driving again in the Spring." but Spring was long gone for her.  We all knew it but she avoided it the most.  And our times of cleaning together stopped.

All these key little moments pop into my head now when it was evident that my Mom was no longer herself and a slow deterioration had taken over her mind.  The time when she was painfully shy and withdrawn at my best friend's wedding - which usually would  be a perfect opportunity to embarrass me and others by talking to as many people as she could and ask them inappropriate questions.  Then there was the time when she bluntly told me that her Dad died and really...that whole process of preparing for the funeral she just seemed too relaxed for her.  Almost checked out. Or the time when I saw her try to get something out of the oven without pot holders and burn herself.  I pretended not to see and she just quietly left the kitchen alone sucking on her finger.  I don't know if she was embarrassed, depressed or what in that moment. My Dad ended up taking the casserole out of the oven without a word spoken or the moment acknowledged out loud.  She stopped cooking.  She stopped being able to write her signature and then writing all together.

I can't imagine what it's like to know your mind is failing you and you can do nothing about it.  She used to tell me "Do you know how hard this is on me?  This feels awful." Usually spoken when the subject that she was scared to be alone without my Dad (she could not be without him ever); or she felt we were whispering about her; or just felt generally misunderstood by us.  I wish I could have those conversations back.  I would ask her anything, talk about anything, in retrospect.  Now when I visit her in the home she's been placed in she can no longer say that this process is hard.  Instead I see her struggle to make sense of where she is.  Sometimes she talks like she's at work and her boss walks by her room.  Or sometimes she thinks it is her home and she's wondering why my Dad isn't home from work yet. Sometimes he still travels for his job in her mind.  Or sometimes she just sits there, barely speaking except to say she feels weird and that something hurts but she doesn't know what.  The worst is when she feels lonely and lost.  She won't let go of your hand, she cries and begs for more hugs and tries to follow you out when you leave. I've had more hugs from her these past few months than I have my whole life.  The guilt is overwhelming while the head struggles to remind you:  You can't do anything about this.

Everyone in my family is adjusting in their own ways and I am comforted by how much we accept each other in our private way of dealing with this life adjustment.  We recently had Easter and it was a quiet, new experience not to have Mom there.  Saturday was at my brother's with his family and Sunday was at my sister's with her family.  My Dad and I traveled to their homes alone, on both days.  We both went home alone afterwards with the emptiness of not having Mom there with us all day.  So this is life now.  Holidays will never be the same.  I'm only 33.  I feel too young to be going through this.  To be going through the adjustment of losing a parent.  I feel a short pang of yearning when I hear my friends talk about their parents on weekends or holidays.  Or to hear their parents help them out with something.  Then I remind myself that the most detrimental thing you can do is compare your lives with others.  These are my life circumstances and that's OK.

My family and I went to a workshop one Saturday to learn more about dealing with dementia of a family member.  One brave woman featured talked about how it's the "long goodbye."  It is so true.  I find myself reduced to tears sometimes, shaking my head at myself because I should be stronger than this.  I deal with messed up life situations at work everyday so why can't I handle this?  There are just some things in life that can not be compartmentalized.  When friends ask about my Mom - what do I say?  What is the right thing to say?  Nothing I say will change things.  Nothing will take away the downward spiral that I have no choice but to accept.  A lot of times it is just not worth opening that door of conversation.  Although sometimes the door can't be closed.  My good buddy Derek and his wife were made aware of this when I didn't cancel my plans with him on a day I couldn't close that emotional door.  I showed up at their home in a fit of tears.  He's been my good buddy since I was 17 and he's never seen me like that (and that's saying a lot since I usually go to him about douchebags I've dated). I don't know what I can to do to shut that emotional door.  I don't know what to say or think or act or what anyone else can do.

I definitely didn't grow up with a typical Mom.  But she was my Mom.  And I found a way to live with her being my Mom.  I found a way to find humor and strength in her downfalls.  Not all the time of course and those are my downfalls.  She did not have an easy life - her family did not treat her kindly or lovingly at all growing up - but that's another story.  Two big things that can hit me hard about this situation is 1): you can't go back to so many moments taken advantage of and 2): my Mom no longer has chances in life.  She always wanted to go to Europe.  She always wanted to spend her older years with my Dad travelling the country in a trailer.  She can't watch her grandchildren grow up.  She never got to make peace with so many things.  We never got to make peace.  And I think the gravity of those regrets we have for her hit the hardest.

"Good job!"

I must of said "Good job" a bazillion times today - it was unavoidable.  For the first time I volunteered at a local race in lieu of participating.  Actually, this particular race, the Defiance 50k Ultra was a bit out of my league so perfect for me to volunteer in.  The minimum distance was a bit over 9 miles so in theory I *could* have tried but....I think I made the right choice by volunteering though.

When I run races volunteers are just incredible.  Always cheering, always helpful, always standing in the rain, in the cold, in the heat and for hours on end.  The volunteers that hand out water to fast runners have to deal with wet sleeves for the rest of the day.  The volunteers that take off timing chips at the end of the race have to deal with touching sweaty stinky runner-flesh and I always wondered "Did anyone pee in their shorts during their race to get a better time?"  Because if so, then volunteers taking off timing chips have to deal with urine as well.  I've never peed my pants during a run (knock on wood) but my time was due to contribute as a volunteer.

This morning's 50k was a trail run in an area that me and my peeps love to get our own running workout in.  The race director figured out a choice of 3 distances so you could go one loop for the shortest distance (15k) two loops (30k) or three loops (50k).  My job was to be a crossing guard and make sure none of the speeding cars hit any runners.  And of course I was to cheer whenever and as much as possible!

It was a nice, sunny day but COLD and I was standing in the tree cover on top of a hill called "Monster hill" by the locals.  Anyway - when the first group of runners came I was sooo stinking excited!

"Good job!  Good job!  *clapping*clapping* Good job!"  I should of brought my cowbell to add to the cheer.  I knew the next time I saw these runners they would be on their 2nd and then 3rd loop so I had to deviate from my phrase of "Good job" to give them something new and inspiring. 

As I waited for the runners to make their loop around for the first time I texted Kate who happened to be cycling in the neighborhood (big surprise) and she came by to give me much needed company.  Before she showed up two runners who had a 5-minute pace flew past me going the wrong way.  I had such a delayed reaction and then questioned "Did the course change?  Do they know where they're going?  Did they change their mind?  Did they lose something?"  And 10 minutes later I see the race director running fast and hard with them leading them to get back on course.  I heard one of the speed demons say "No one ever told us we were ever going the wrong way!"  I felt instant guilt.  Kate did a good job of reassuring me over and over again that this was not my fault.  Because of this I was even more motivated to be there for the other runners.

The dialogue with passing runners gets interesting.  I found out that some runners had gotten lost right at the start and thus gave up.  I found out that a bees nest was disturbed further down the loop and the bees were stinging every runner that they could!  Rumor is someone finally was able to battle the bees and get the hive off the trail but lost their pants as a result of his bravery.  What a sacrifice! 

I was rocking to music with one earbud in and Kanye West inspired me to start telling runners "You look strong!  Good job!"  I love the girl who on her third loop asked me "How strong do I look now?"  The answer:  SUPER STRONG.  She had tie-dyed compression sleeves on her arms and red hair.  I loved her.

Then Peter Cetera came on my MP3 (I'm not ashamed) so then I started telling people "You're the inspiration - looking great - good job!" 

For the ones struggling I told runners "You're Rocky man - you're going the distance!  Good job!"  I loved the one girl who asked me to sing "Eye of the Tiger" for her for more inspiration.  So I should of brought cowbell AND my microphone. 

Some runners I'd say "You're doing it man - looking awesome" and one very tired fella said "I can't even feel what I'm doing anymore but I'm just gonna keep moving my feet."  Hells yeah. 

My favorite was the feisty fella who informed me that if I thought he looked awesome when he's ultra running then I should see how awesome he is when he's all cleaned up! Little does he know I find sweaty, dirty, hard-working fellas WAY more attractive than cleaned up ones.

When there were gaps between runners I'd see other recreational runners struggling up Monster Hill so I started to encourage them too.  One girl was doing 10 miles that day, another girl was doing 15.  They were awesome.  Kudos to the girl with the Aussie-Heeler who stopped the out of control SUV and screamed "Slow down A$$hole!"  Don't mess with Tacoma girls man.

I got asked several times by drivers how to find the zoo. If I was a crossing guard all the time.  What the heck was going on.  Or if I had seen their family member running. 

Some runners would ask me on the 2nd or 3rd loop what order they were in.  I found many different ways to say NO IDEA.  When it comes to loops it's really hard to say.  I couldn't even make an inspirational twist of encouragement out of that honest answer.

I woke up at 5:45am (NEVER HAPPENS), got my latte staring at the sun rise & illuminating Rainier and stood as a crossing guard for 5.5 hours with no food or bathroom break and time flew by.  Go figure.

As the race dwindled down the 50k runners all seemed to have the same joke "No offense but I'm so happy I won't be running by you for a fourth time."  No offense taken. 

What I heard the most today was a plethora of thank yous from all the tired, hard-working and sweaty runners. Here they are, struggling for breath yet still muster gratitude.  I just love the running community.  Runners are so supportive, positive, upbeat and luckily for me you don't even need to be good at running to be a part of a runners' community.  I'm looking forward to volunteering more (with cowbell, a stereo and handwarmers though).  And I look forward to more sweaty and dirty fellas!  My favorite!

Blah-ging

 I've become burnt out on blogging.  I still have constant dialouge in my head but blogging for me became my picture diary of experiences that I loved.  Mainly.  But I've become burnt out.  Because who really cares anyway? 

However I feel like I should mention how awesome the Warrior Dash was (picture below).  It was awesome.  One of the most fun events I've participated in this year and I can't wait for next year.

Besides that my Big Bro and his wife Andrea came into town briefly and we caught up on the trail of course.  They are doing so awesome in their new life adventure - it was beyond great to see them again.

OH, and my parents found my blog.  That was great to hear my Mom's feedback and commentary on all the blogs I wrote.  Of course I know it's "public" for anyone to see but my privacy from my Mother means a lot.  Anyone that knows her understands why.  She promises not to look again but that woman just can't be trusted!  That's right Mom, I KNOW you can't resist being nosy and then playing dumb about it later!

For the most part I try to keep my blogs upbeat and lighthearted:  I don't talk about my job, I don't talk about dating/relationships, I don't talk about what stresses me out, I don't talk about personal feelings, etc. 

So perhaps I'm done with blogging then.  Maybe if I feel I have funny dialogue to get off my chest I'll write it out.  Like the occasional bad date.  Ok, yes, that violates one of my rules of talking about relationships/dating but I figure if I change all names and situations to protect the innocent that it can't be bad right?  I've had amusing experiences.

Oh and I wasn't ready for Deadliest Catch to be over but I accept it.  It's really not a show without Phil, The Hansens or The Hillstrands.  Over and Out.

To Burroughs We Go

Before the summer completely disappears myself, Sugarmama Shannon, CortO and KB decided to play hooky (ok, we were responsible and requested vacation days) and hit the hills mid-week.  Rainier is gorgeous yet extremely crowded so we decided to take advantage of the weekday mini-crowds and do a popular yet beautiful hike.

Some trailheads have no marking, some have an old wood slab on a post or a faded flag on a tree branch but at Rainier you get glossy, colorful maps.  We were NOT going to slum it today!

This was the view of Rainier from the parking lot.  We took full advantage of the flushing toilets at the trailheads AND the gift shop.  Thank goodness because the wind was in hyper mode so Sugarmama and CortO bought some matching fleece jackets to keep them warm.  I was just grateful that I didn't have to concentrate on not peeing on my leg in the woods.  It happens people.  It's nature.

Very early on in the hike Sugarmama was looking at Rainier silently and then this conversation commences:
*Sugarmama Shannon:  "What mountain is that?"
*US: "Uh......Rainier?"
*Sugarmama Shannon:  "No it's not."
*US:  "Yes it is!"
*Sugarmama Shannon: "hmm....we could climb that.  That's not that big."

And that ladies and gentleman, is trailhead summit fever, at it's best. 

I don't know what range you call this...I stared and stared at a map of Rainier and decided just to let it tell you itself.  The clouds rolling over the ridge was breathtaking.  Take a breath.....

  Dangit.  This is going to bug me - Tamanos Mountain?  Governor's Ridge?  I need to know.  Who knows the answer?  I'll have Schmuck bake you something if you can give me the correct answer. 

We decided to do Burroughs Mountain and spoil ourself with views for the rest of the day.  There was only a couple of places where snow was on the trail that was easy to navigate.

If you click on this picture you'll see Sugarmama Shannon behind me with both arms stretched out to balance herself like she's taking a sobriety test.  ABC's are next.

First Burroughs - look at the effortless mountain man pose KB naturally strikes.  I tried for the rest of the day to duplicate that pose and failed.  Again and again - it's like he channels the hiking version of the Marlbaro Man every time.  I'm just not worthy! 

Little Tahoma Peak in the background - still some alpine flowers taking a stand this time of year.

And soon we were on top of Second Burroughs.  I guess I left out a picture but there were about 40 mountain goats at the basin below this - we had to hold Sugarmama back from running into their hooved arms - she loves them so much.  However being upwind from the goats really surrounded us with a certain stink.  We all silently questioned our grooming habits that morning (and each others) and resolved it was from the stinking goats.  You stink goats!

So here is my first fail with KB trying to duplicate his mountain man pose.  See his relaxed form.  See my non-relaxed form.  It's like I'm waiting for my mountainous red carpet.  FAIL.

I had no idea that ET and Elliot still hang out and I'm so grateful because they made for a very good photo.  Among the clouds in the distance is our office building - sucks to be them! 

CortO instructing Sugarmama and myself in our Burroughs photo shoot. 

So after ET and Elliot departed for the day we took over this rocky bench with our Heiniekens and took in the views.  KB's eagle eyes spotted some climbers on Rainier and we all took turns marveling at these distant strangers with binoculars. I consulted with my unofficial Mountain Expert BMount and he confirmed that we were looking at Interglacier which contains the route to Camp Schurman on the other side (the triangle shaped glacier above our heads).  He swore to me it's not easy to tumble down it's face which I'm still not convinced of.  This is coming from a man who calls climbing Rainier a "snow slog."  Seriously folks. 

Cheers with our summit beer!  Thank you Heinieken for hosting such a great summit for us!

KB in the distance in a reflective moment - take note another effortless mountain man pose.  Beyond him is the Third Burroughs - "Should we do it?" - it was a hard decision to make.  Eventually we resolved we had taken our time on the way up and shouldn't extend our day with the Third Burroughs... especially on a school night.  So I am coming back for you Winthrop Glacier!  I heard you are quite the sight!

KB with his Heine.  And his pose. 

Here I thought I was channeling Captain Morgan with CortO as my hand rest but all I really got out of it was showing how my sports bra works overtime.  So much to learn from KB...so much. 

Sugarmama Shannon and I descending Second Burroughs:

Sugarmama Shannon:  "I want to go pet the goats!"

Krista:  "Why do you love evil goats?  I think you were a goat in your previous life."

Sugarmama Shannon:  "I'm a Capricorn ya know (makes sense)....can I please go pet the goats!?"

Descending First Burroughs - I believe that's Goat Island Mountain in the background.  A place where they plot and plan, get stinky and beckon Shannon to convert to their dark side.

Why didn't I pay better attention in school?  Nature is AWESOME.  To the right you have the base of Emmons Glacier where White River is born.  You also have a striking turquoise lake which, thanks to Ranger Punches, now I know why it's so turquoise.  It has to do with the glacial rock in the lake and how it reflects the sun.  Amazing.  Thanks Nature.  I thought you were dishwasher soap at first glance.

Some flowers showing their goods on our descent from the subalpine.

Shadow Lake, why oh why can't we jump in?  My forehead is burnt and I just want to jump in.  Sugarmama Shannon in reflection accepting the signage telling us "no swimming, no fishing".  BOO.  I didn't ask Ranger Punches what was up with that one.  I'll let it slide this time.

And back at the parking lot KB introduced CortO and myself to the tradition of parking lot beer - I liked it!  I really think I should adopt this new tradition!  Thanks Sugarmama for driving! 

Speaking of Unique:  How do you scare a unique marmot?  Unique up on it!  But seriously, we saw some unique marmots that were spliced with bears on this trail.  And I say that because from a distance half of us thought they were bears and the other half thought they were marmots.  Only nature knows for sure....

Summer Summit

So this past weekend was stinking hot so to cool down Katers and I did a quick hike under the cool canopy of the forest to an alpine lake that I was just itching to jump in!

I love when it gets hot in Washington (90s) and it becomes breaking news every 30 minutes.  "How long will it last?  Did we break a record?  Here's a list of cooling centers.  When will the cooler temperatures come back? Danger, Danger, Danger why is the sun trying to kill us?"  And it goes on and on.  Were such weather wimps.  But I still love you Washington.

Katers at the trailhead of Summit Lake.

This was a moderate hike and not too long - a perfect distance since this was Katers first hike since she almost met her maker.

This is where the trail split.  We were headed to Summit Lake but I had this big idea that on the way back down we could try to Bearhead Trail.  I have a lot of big ideas that don't seem to come to fruition.

I loved this little trail split lake (Twin Lake without a twin) - it had a lot of fishies jumping up and swirling around.  Never gets old except when the dang biting flys are devouring you.

Some people carry 10 essential, Katers carries 30.

At last we arrived at Summit Lake but before I could swim I had to convince Katers that we HAD to hike to the summit above it.  This is when Katers informs me she has to be in her lazy boy by 6pm otherwise the universe tilts.  So...did you guys feel the tilt?

We did this hike past the peak of the wildflowers but thankfully there were still some left on the trail gasping their last breaths and greeting us.  AND I just learned that the white ones are called Cows Parsnip (thanks KB!)

Almost to the summit - damn I love Washington.

Can you literally hear this lake calling you to come and jump in it?  I almost had reverse summit fever and felt like I could run and cherry bomb straight into this lake but then I got distracted by....

...shirtless sunbathing men!  Can I please have more of that on my hikes?  I've said this before and I'll say it again:  God love the men who go outside and frolic in nature, sans shirt, in lieu of staying indoors on beautiful days.  You do your Mother's proud and I thank you.

A shot of my feet off the cliffside for Andrea.

Summit Beer time!  My last Dude Beer went down well.  My favorite part here is when Katers asks me "Is it illegal to do this?"  I couldn't stop laughing.  For those of you who know her you know why that is funny.  Between the two of us who should really know the answer to that question?

To the crazy mountain man out there considering attacking Katers on the trail:  Don't do it.  She'll chop you, decapitate you, spit on you, quarter you and then do it all over again for good measure. 

On the way down Katers sacrificed her recliner deadline to let me jump into the lake and cool off.  The lake was soooo stinking clear!  And cold but I've had colder.

And the perfect way to end - floating on my back.  What I love about floating on my back is that you can't hear a darn thing, you close your eyes and just let the water take you away.  Preferably not next to crazy mountain men lurking behind trees but next to the shirtless sunbathing men. 

Anyway - it's perfect water meditation - I don't do it enough.

And I'm late on the breaking news but Sugarmama Shannon, Corto and myself were able to crank out a half-marathon.  My first since my injury and my leg held up ok!  Congrats to CortO on his FIRST half-marathon - it's nice to say that Shannon and I deuced him.  He swares he'll never do another one but that's what they all say - they all come back eventually....

The Perfect Rock

Big D and I decided to do a moderate hike by the name of Cathedral Rock and everything about the day was just perfect.  Her and I must of said "This is the perfect day" a million times.  Boyfriend Ben let us borrow the truck which was perfect for the forest service road we had to take to the Alpine Lakes trailhead outside of Cle Elum.  We were able to find our summit beers no problem and the sky was blue and the sun was shining.  Perfect.

I should of taken pictures of all the meadows that we were driving thru on our way to the trailhead.  At the start of our hike we were greeted with this flower-less meadow.  Still pretty.

Hello Cle Elum River.  I'm sure I'll be dipping my swollen feet in you later.

After crossing this cedar bridge we slowly made our way up the lazy switchbacks to our destination.

Big D in the woods.  Ah yes, this is us in our true element.  Big D just got a new job and returned from a short vacation in California so the woods got to hear all our catching up that we had to do.

The way to Cathedral Rock is part of the Pacific Crest Trail but I was curious about this side trail to Michael Lake.  Before Big D and I set off I met some fellas in the parking lot who told me they took this trail.  "Where abouts did it lead?"  I asked one of them.  He pointed at a high rock to the left of the horizon.  "I like the way you hike man!" was my response.  I myself like pointing at high peaks to say "I've been there".  Usually it's at the base of peaks because this girl does not know how to scramble or mountain climb.  Ironically Cathedral Rock is a rock climber's destination (at least according to the hiking book).

About halfway up we passed by Squaw Lake.  We said a quick hello and decided we were definitely going to wade in it later.  See you soon Squaw!

Remember my run in with goats in the earlier hike?  I still have a cut on my calf from them.  Ok, not from the goats but I'm sure they made me slip and fall on that rock with their minds.  I just think goats are up to no good.  They stare at your with their beady eyes and silently plot your demise. 

Soon we made our way to the ridgeline where the views opened up and the tarns guarded the fragile meadows. 

Drafting while hiking.

This is Cathedral Rock!  So as I mentioned before we'll be hiking to the base of it until I learn how to climb like spiderman. 

Who needs an outdoor pool when you have lakes with views like this?

According to the book this fork was kind of our end destination.  Although the trail kept on going since it was part of the Pacific Crest Trail.  As Big D and I contemplated where the heck we would enjoy our summit beers a hiker emerged from the woods fresh from an outdoor shower and encouraged us to go to the other side of the ridge for a good view.  Ok.

Man oh man I'm glad we listened to him because this view was AMAZING.  Simply amazing.  The perfect day.

The view even almost perfectly matches up with Big D's summit beer!

I don't think pictures do our view justice so I included a video which includes Big D's beer slam.  Oh, and by the way, the answer is Daniel's Mountain. Or Mount Daniels.  I think.

Summit Beer drinking commences.

Here Deer!

On the way down as Big D and I excitedly anticipated our soon to be consumed burger and beer at The Brick we took a break to soak our legs in Squaw Lake.  I heavily considered doing an all out jump into the lake like usual but decided against it since no one dared me and I didn't want to be cold at The Brick.

Thanks Lake!

A quick photo of the sun setting as we may our way out of the woods blasting Beastie Boys on Boyfriend Ben's stereo. 

And for those of you wondering why we consider The Brick so phallic just look at their sign.  I'm not a pervert.  And they sell shirts with this symbol smack dab in the middle.  If I wore that shirt...now...don't make me say what that would look like.

Regardless, thank you Cathedral Rock, PCT, Rainier Beer, Big D and The Brick for a perfect day!