On Edge
If you followed our trip last year and read about the time we spent at Grand Canyon, you’re familiar with my fear of edges (precipices, to be exact). I don’t mind heights, it’s just the edge between my high point and the distant low point (the plunging, cavernous chasm below) that causes my heart to race.
Unfortunately (as I don’t want to pass my anxieties along to my children either genetically or behaviorally) Julianna seems to have the same fear. So, we were quite the pair in Mesa Verde National Park as we toured the Balcony House, an ancient cliff dwelling that visitors are able to enter into and climb through with a Park Ranger. It is, as our Ranger described it, the “Indiana Jones of cliff dwelling tours.” Um, yay?
When you have a chance to visit Mesa Verde, make sure you get tour tickets to visit the cliff dwellings as early as possible. Tickets are sold up to two days in advance, and sell out very quickly. Since we arrived at night with a hope to tour the next day, Tim was our tour champion. He got up and ran the mile from the Ancient Cedars RV Park to the Mesa Verde Visitors Center so he could be first in line when they opened at 7:30 a.m. We had the choice of the Cliff Palace and Balcony House, and chose the Balcony House, which we were advised allowed us a more intimate look at the cliff dwellings (though both tours are very highly rated).
As we headed up the mesa to the tour site, I read the National Park Service description of our upcoming activity.
“Adventurous Cliff Dwelling Tour: This one-hour, ranger-guided tour involves climbing a 32-foot ladder, crawling through a 12-foot long tunnel, and climbing up a 60-foot (20m) open rock face with two 10-foot (3m) ladders to exit the site.”
I made an executive mommy decision NOT to describe the tour to the children, but to let it unfold naturally.
Julianna and I had already had a heart-to-heart at the Palo Duro Canyon when Tim climbed over a wooden fence at an overlook to get a better panoramic shot of the canyon depths. We conquered momentary terror to cross the Palo Duro Canyon on a zipline. We breathed through our fears
together, again, at the Rio Grande Gorge, as we stood mouths-agape watching Tim approach what seemed a treacherous edge, only to gingerly approach behind him and see that immediately below that edge was another level of rock extending out 10 more feet.
Since we kept coming upon these challenging moments, I shared with her the story of the day Tim asked me to marry him. An early afternoon proposal was followed by a romantic dinner. As we left dinner, a heavy Houston thunderstorm hit, so we decided to go see Touching the Void. Misclassified as a “docudrama survival film”, it turned out to be a horror film about ice climbers who fall into a deep crevasse and face certain death multiple times before they claw their way out. As we exited the theater, Tim lightly commented, “Ice climbing looks like fun. I’d like to the try that one day.” Our first fight as an engaged couple followed. There were tears.
15 years later, I told her, we are still the same people we were that day. Tim is still an adventurer, and I am still a scaredy cat. However, I said, I work not to let my fear limit my activities or experiences. I’ve climbed mountains; I just cried a little on the way up. I’ve parachuted from airplanes; I just wept a little on the way down. So it is: I fight against my fears. I invited her to be brave with me.
When it came to Mesa Verde and climbing rock-face ladders to get into the ancient dwellings, our ranger broke the news
after his Indiana Jones comment, and Julianna took it like a champ. We were bravery buddies, holding hands down the stairs into the canyon, and ascending the (very sturdy) ladders side by side. Being there for her helped me stay calmer on the way up. Only after we squeezed through the natural rock tunnel into the Balcony House did she lose it a little, letting the stress flow over and through her. It shows, building in her face, and wrinkled across mine, as I look at Tim’s photos of that day. The fear washed over her. She wrapped her arms around my leg—not, in that moment, the independent 10 year old she so longs to be, but a wholly dependent little girl.
A few minutes later, her fear washed away. She breathed, and felt her feet under her. She expressed no more anxiety 
or complaints. She listened to the Ranger, and allowed herself to be drawn into that place of ancient voices and unknown names. We heard of the function of the enclosed rooms, the open balcony, and deeply cut kivas—places of meeting and ritual. We imagined the ways in which inhabitants of this place communicated with other dwellings. We tried to see beyond the empty space before us to the people who created and lived within it.
Later, I asked Julianna when she started to feel better about the tour and climbing to and through the cliff dwellings. She said she never did—that she was scared the whole time, but that she was glad we did it. My sentiments exactly.
Cumbres & Toltec Scenic Railroad
I didn’t foresee it, I couldn’t have expected it, but as I saw Tim physically relax at the rhythm of the train, eagerly take in the history shared by its docent, and find enchantment in the views of mountains and wildlife, it became apparent that he loved these hours more than any of us.
When I bought our seats on the Cumbres and Toltec Scenic Railroad (another amazing suggestion from my friend), I really only had the children in mind. Between an elaborate Thomas the Train set and an equally elaborate electric train set, both of which we received as a gift from a young man who collected them during his youth and wanted our boys to have them and love them too, our children have enjoyed toy trains for years. Contextually, however, trains have always been toys—fanciful and abstract, but not real. I bought our seats with the hope that our children could finally experience the magic and the reality of trains. In the end, we all experienced it.
The Cumbres and Toltec Scenic Railroad runs between Chama, NM, and Antonito, CO, a six-hour journey. Because the train only travels 15 miles per hour, the trips that go fully between Chama and Antonito require a return ride on a bus, and I did not see the kiddos taking to that idea easily, so we chose a route that ran half the distance and allowed us to traverse the route—to and from—on train. We bought the Deluxe Tourist Class seats so the children could have a table to play on along the way and an attendant to help keep them entertained.
The children were calm and peaceful during the six hours we rode from Chama to Osier and back. They had books to read and tiny toy trains to play with (a surprise we gave them as the train took off from the station).
They looked out the window intermittently, and walked up and down the train a bit, crossing gingerly from car to car, but mostly kept to their own activities. Their heads popped up when a herd of sheep blocked the track, when we were challenged to search out the bear cave in the mountainside, when a small herd of elk was ambling by a river side, and when a lone coyote was spotted on a nearby hill. We dragged them out of their chairs to the gondola car when the train crossed a wooden trestle bridge, so they could look over the side to the rushing river below. They jumped eagerly up to see the train “blow down,” releasing steam from its boiler to clear trapped debris. Each time they got up, they knew they could find Tim on the gondola car, taking in every moment he could of the journey and the fresh mountain air.
My great pleasure in the journey came from experiencing the joy of my family and knowing they have experienced a moment of history that is getting harder to access. I love showcasing history and the daily realities of our ancestors for our children, when possible. We live easy lives now—fast lives that demand as much of us as we expect of them. We can drive in one hour what it took six for us to travel on that train. I am so thankful for the access we have to the technology of this day, but want also to appreciate that it hasn’t always been, and doesn’t have to be, like it is today.
As we stepped off the train and settled back into the RV for our 3 1/2 hour trip to Mesa Verde (143 mountain miles away), we decided to put a video on for the kiddos, hoping they’d fall asleep on the road. It was Theo’s turn to choose, and he asked for Thomas the Train. Normally a point of resistance with Julianna and Elijah, who are feeling a bit old for Thomas videos, this time they eagerly agreed.
Mountain Moments
As we broke out of the expanse of west Texas, we felt the landscape rise and change, taking it in like a breath of fresh air. We love entering the National Forests of New Mexico.
Last year Lincoln National Forest took us by surprise, an oasis between the deserts of Carlsbad and Alamogordo. Cloudcroft stopped us for two days and left us enchanted with giant dandelions, murals painted on dumpsters, and fairy gardens. We found nothing we had planned for and all that our little family could have wished for. We relaxed fully into the moment.
This year our path directed us through Carson National Forest as we drove toward Red River, New Mexico. We were early for the summer season, missing a chance for their famous Cowboy Evenings by a couple of weeks, but not the charm of the quiet mountain town. The children rode a mechanical horse for the first time. We ate bison kolaches and heart-shaped muffins. We sat on ski-lift porch swings. We crossed wooden bridges over the rapidly flowing Red River.
We learned that the backcountry Jeep tours are best taken in the morning or at 1 p.m., because almost every day at 4:30 p.m. (when we took our tour) rain threatens, and often comes. Thankfully, the open-topped trucks have canvas covers for just the occasion, and wool blankets aplenty to protect from the encroaching cold.
And what happens when an afternoon rain comes in the mountains? The clouds come down to say, “Hello,” and we found ourselves wrapped in their mist, even climbing above them as we bumped along toward the mountain peak.
Panning for gold goes by the wayside when it is raining, but caves can still be explored, so we scampered up the granite mountainside—only about 10 feet, not a perilous height—and ventured down into the cave. Theo was visibly shaking as we walked into the darkness. “Hey buddy, are you cold or scared?” I asked. “Scared,” he replied as he held my hand tightly. Julianna and Elijah proceeded fearlessly to the cave’s end, then rushed back out to the waiting Jeep for the jolting ride down the mountain and back to town.
Our early summer arrival afforded us another unexpected sight in the Carson National Forest: snow. The long, cold winter left banks of snow in the higher altitudes. No planned activity could have provided the same interest or entertainment to our kiddos than the chance to play in a lone snow bank in the midst of a verdant, green ski run.
With Houston heat very present in our memory, we all struggled to believe we were seeing snow, and all around! The only snow our children remember was an inch dusting in 2017 that closed our schools for two days. The memory is delightful, but incomparable to the snow banks of 6-7 inches that remain on the ground like scattered, wind-blown blankets.
Seeing our little ones play and revel in the newness of it all added the whimsy to the mountain town visit we’d hoped to capture again this year, and happily achieved.
I am a Runner
There was a time when I did a lot of cycling. I fell into the sport shortly after moving to Texas, drawn into the cycling community through a MS150 cycling team sponsored by my employer.
My first training ride was on a heavy mountain bike, which didn’t fare well against the well-tuned road bikes of my companions. Before long, I upgraded my equipment (a couple of times) and found myself logging 100 miles each Saturday morning. As the family grew, the time consumed by cycling became more than I was willing to give and I put the bike aside.
A few years later I decided to venture into the world of running. I had previously scoffed at the idea of running, joking that I liked to avoid friction and, therefore, any reasonable mode of transportation should have well lubricated wheels. Besides, if you work your way to the top of a hill, why should you have to work to get back to the bottom?
I have come to love the simplicity of running. Little is required beyond a pair of shoes. There are no teams or roles to be defined. There are no tires to inspect nor bulky gear to transport. The rules are simple, put one foot in front of the other, find your comfort zone, and explore your personal limits on your own terms.
That isn’t to say I didn’t face questions. One of my first questions was what shoes to run in. My “gym shoes” at the time were a $50 pair of basic athletic-ish shoes picked up at Walmart or DSW. My response to the shoe question was to sheepishly walk into a big box sports store and purchase the 2nd to most expensive running shoe I saw that had a bunch of technobabble words on the display.
I figured I didn’t need the most expensive shoe; the least expensive also seemed like a poor choice. I ended up with a pair of ASICS Kayano’s. It wasn’t until a year later, when I purchased my second pair of running shoes, that I learned these shoes were targeted for those needing stabilization support, which I did not. My local running store was a big help on this front. They looked at my old shoes, watched me walk, watched me run in various shoes, and provided a basic understanding of the purpose of the technology built into different running shoes. Running around 2400 miles a year, I now replace my shoes every two to three months. I have grown more comfortable in knowing what works best for me under different conditions and what injuries stem from running in “the wrong shoes.”
I started running when I was 39. For the first couple years I was reticent to claim the identity of runner. Runners were those people who ran track in high school, who were fast, who knew all the answers about technique and training; runners were… not me. My commitment to the sport continued to grow, however, and I soon found myself waking up at 4:30 in the morning–even on weekends–for the pain and enjoyment of a run and the running community I had found. The day I realized I was waking up before dawn to run in the rain, I acknowledged that I am a runner.
One of the great joys that has come from running is the freedom it provides to explore new places. In my cycling days, I was often preoccupied with how I would get my saddle time in. Hotel spin bikes were often in disrepair, and renting a bike or finding a safe place to ride when traveling presented its own challenges. I have enjoyed some wonderful times with the bike on vacation, but it is a lot easier to pack a pair of shoes and run out the door without a second thought.
In our family travels, Tamara now eagerly awaits my return from the first run in a new city: I report back the sights and sounds, tell the children of the parks to be explored, make a mental note of the local coffee shops and stores, and gain an appreciation for the pulse of the city as I travel its streets and pathways.
But the run isn’t only about exploring my surroundings. I use the time to explore my own thoughts, reflecting on the experiences of the day and my ambitions for the days ahead.
Spirit of the West
I wonder at our destinations, and the surprise joys we find, as they unfold along our journeys. If not for choosing Vail as our anchor destination (the place we aim toward to spend a week relaxing), I may not have explored what there is to see in the Texas panhandle. Heading northwest, however, put it right in our path, and one day to the next, we moved from a tribute to America’s pioneering spirit to a tribute to its free spirit.
When I saw we’d be passing through Amarillo to northern New Mexico, I reached out to my friend Jeanne, and she knew just what we could do.
“You have to see the Texas Show. The kids will love it.”
She was right. We all enjoyed the musical performed at the base of the Palo Duro Canyon and telling the history of the region. Cowboys, Indians, Settlers, Prospectors, Ranchers, and the daughters and wives that accompanied them sang and danced with the walls of the second largest canyon in the US rising around them. The night ended with fireworks and a tribute to the Armed Forces, representing well America, and the best of its pioneering and patriotic spirit.
When morning came, we continued the cowboy theme with a visit to Tex Randall, Big Texan (which I imagine rates as the biggest cowboy in the world) and the Big Texan Steak House, home of the 72-ounce steak challenge (eat it and get it free!) Not even tempted with the steak challenge, we enjoyed a filling lunch of regular-sized steaks and then surprised the children with their own cans of spray paint and permission to make their mark at Cadillac Ranch.
Unlike what I imagined, Julianna was initially horrified by the prospect of sanctioned graffiti. Only when she witnessed our fellow travelers painting the old, buried cars—thick and distorted with layers of aerosolized colors, each a memory for a fellow traveler who’d taken the time to stop—did she
accept the legitimacy of our activity. More than Elijah or Theodore, both of whom arrived eager and willing, Julianna plunged into the experience. Inside cars, outside cars, with blue, green, pink, and white, she painted her initials and hearts.
She and the boys trudged around in the mud (so much mud), each finding their own entertainment. Theo was more enchanted by the mud than the paint. Elijah found the ground a more attractive palette than the cars. Tim commemorated our visit with a giant J E T (in honor of our JET Pack, Julianna, Elijah, and Theodore). I enjoyed watching and capturing photos of their artistic expressions.
When we had exhausted our creative reserves, we headed back to the RV to drive to the next stop. Julianna, later musing about our time at Cadillac Ranch, said, “That was weird, like that shoe store we saw in the middle of the desert last year. I don’t know why it’s there, but it was fun.”
Play All Day
Recently, my children have each insisted to me, passionately and frequently, that I do not play with them enough. They’ve actually said, “you NEVER play with me,” which I’m sure isn’t true, but their general protestations aren’t completely unfounded. I do let the busyness of my days carry me away. Faced with an opportunity to wrest some cleanliness and order into our home or sit and play a game, I most often choose cleanliness and order. But I do listen to our precious ones, and I have planned fun and play on this trip!!
When we pulled into our first stop, Yogi Bear’s Jellystone Park, Julianna grabbed the itinerary and the kiddos planned our time. Jumping pillow? Yes, please. Water slides? Absolutely. Candy bingo? For sure! Wet “Hey hey” ride? Kick ball slip-n-slide? Glow foam dance party? Yes to it all!
We spent two nights there with one full day in-between, and filled every waking moment with kid-chosen fun. This in spite of Elijah getting a fever midday Saturday and succumbing to a two-hour nap. He did miss the Candy Bingo (Daddy won big and brought home the prizes for all to share), but made it to all other events. We even got a roll of quarters to use in the arcade for a little post-nap quiet time. 😉
Right about the time the Glow Foam Dance Party was set to begin, and Elijah settled in my lap for a snuggle, I was happy not to have succumbed to the responsibilities that can follow us anywhere. After all, RVs get dirty, with dishes to do and floors to sweep, but I was set on intentional play, and that day I achieved it. And how did the day end? With our tired (and sick) children up to their necks in foam, dancing around without a care in the world, and us at their side.
Westward Bound
Last year was a transformative experience for our family. After years of living overseas and working internationally, I settled completely into married, family, and local life, contracting my travels from international to national to nil. The same was true for Tim: international travel for work and fun was replaced with the local concerns in our life. By the time Theo was two, we’d mastered the art of the family Staycation and making the most of what our hometown had to offer.
Then three of my closest friends moved away at once, and the comfort of home, though still real and present, began to recede behind the desire to go see at least one precious, much-missed friend. Staycations couldn’t get us there, so we decided to go to Scottsdale for a visit. The rest is chronicled in our posts from last year’s trip (that we’ll upload here soon). We started out focused on a destination, but learned of the wonders that can unfold in the journey. Now, here we are once more, journeying.
I delight in the possibilities that lie ahead. Again we head west, though northwest this time to New Mexico, Utah, and Colorado, many of our destinations chosen with help from a well-traveled friend (thanks Jeanne❤️) and the rest lots of research. It hasn’t taken long to remember the rhythm of the ride. Lots of toys, craft supplies, and a great view is helping everyone settle in.
It is my great delight to share our adventures, so thanks for following along!
Boston 2019
Boston day 1 was a blast! Tim and I laughed a lot as we walked around the city this evening. He did a fabulous job posing for all the photos I wanted to take of him, and even got one of me.
Day 2 was all about the Marathon and Coffee Expos! We started at the marathon expo then headed over to the world of coffee. What differing experiences to have in one day (though both held lots of energetic people 😆). We had our DNA taken to have it tested for health purposes—that was my fav marathon vendor—and we got some great marathon mementos for the family. Then we crossed town (mostly walking) and at the SCAA Expo. Tim explored roasters and looked for our next grinder while I honed in on the tea exhibitors. (I am on a quest to make Butterfly Pea Flower tea taste yummy!)
Both Expos were sooooo much bigger than I expected and our feet were beat. We ended the day by just relaxing and putting them up for a while as we waited for dinnertime.
During our third day in Boston and on the eve of the Marathon, I began to have a completely different sensibility drive my actions of the day: protectionism.
Each choice and action was accompanied (on my part) by the thought of how it would effect Tim’s run. Should we walk to every destination? (We always did.) Has he eaten enough and hydrated enough? (Nope.) Is there anything I could do to make the day easier? (I ended up picking up dinner we could eat in the suite.)
At the coffee expo, we limited tasting coffee and focused on wide variety of alternative drinks: teas and scrubs… whatever didn’t contain caffeine. That was a good choice. Tim was in bed, trying to sleep, by 7:30, and I sat in the darkened living room with my headphones in my ears rewatching a not-too-funny movie (so I wouldn’t LOL) to kill the time.
This morning, we prayed for safety, strength, and speed, and he was out the door by 5:30 a.m.
Now I am in the “quiet” time between his departure and his arrival. Before this race, when he ran Houston or The Woodlands or Sacramento, the quiet time while he actually ran the 26.2 miles was not so quiet because I was Momming and actively caring for the children.
Not today. Today our family is back home, supporting us with their care of the children. And today I am walking through this beautiful city, which is both fully energized for the Marathon and empty feeling in these hours before any runners near the finish. All the sites on the Freedom Trail, which I am slowly walking, are almost abandoned, completely without the crowds we saw yesterday or the day before. Of course, as I walk toward Boylston Street and the finish line, I will see that they are there en masse, not gone, just re-situated.
As for Tim right now? He started at 10:06, and he’s halfway there! I received notification that Tim arrived at mile 13.1 at 11:46 a.m., and will share again when he’s done. Do pray, if you will, for all these runners out here. They really put so much of themselves into the goal of getting here and finishing well. May they all have safety, strength, and speed today!
Love from Boston!! 💛💙
Summer Reflection
Last night I was so incredibly tired, not from lack of sleep (Tim owns that sort of tired), but from a summer of activity and moderating and mediating, that I sat down in bed right after we got the kids to sleep 
and didn’t get up again.
This morning, when I went downstairs to get breakfast started, I was greeted with yesterday’s mail, including the memory book from our RV trip in June, and it is Beautiful!!! It brought back all the feelings: the quiet, the excitement, the joy, the satisfaction, and the wonder of that time.
As the moments turn to memories, do you know one aspect of that trip that remains truly wonderful to me, as I can repeat it over and over again?
While we drove and explored and played and discovered, I was able to fit work in here and there: 10 minutes in the “bus” as we flew down the road; a few minutes in bed before the kids woke up or after they fell asleep; a quick phone call as we got gas.
The time I chose to give my business during the trip fit in so easily that the kids didn’t even seem to notice! And I was paid while I was on the road in Monahans, Carlsbad, White Sands, Scottsdale, Grand Canyon, Sedona, Marfa…and then I came home to another paycheck after our trip was over.
How is it that less than one year ago I didn’t know this was all possible?!!
If you want an opportunity that gives you opportunities, let’s talk!
Tuzigoot National Monument and Sedona
I think we broke our internal clocks at Grand Canyon. 
Or maybe we passed through the Arizona vortex and that did it.
All I know is that 11:21 p.m. last night, when we rolled in from the day trip to Tuzigoot National Monument and Sedona, it occurred to me that we had been at least three hours late for life since our return from that amazingly large hole in the ground.
Children were asleep everywhere. No pajamas this time (because we were planning to be home in time for dinner). And even though it was the last time we’d see our friends this trip, there weren’t weepy goodbyes. When I asked Julianna if she wanted one more photo with Lily, she responded, “Nooo, I want sleep!”
Please let me give the short context that I have read Dr. Simon Weissbluth’s Healthy Sleep Habits Happy Child at least twice through, and have bookmarked many charts on appropriate sleep times. This week I did not follow any of that advice.
On Wednesday, after Grand Canyon, a 2 p.m. planned swim date with early bedtime turned into at 5 p.m. playground cookout and sleepover (for J at least), with most of the kids getting to sleep around 10:30.
Theodore came to me around 9, crawled into my lap, and asked me to please put him to bed; he was asleep less than 5 minutes later.
The baby, Rosy, decided sleep was not needed at all. She stuck with that premise through our day trip yesterday, finally crashing around 9:30 last night (her mom is a Trooper!!)
So after that unplanned late night, we took an easy morning and left around 10 a.m. for Tuzigoot, ancient Pueblo ruins dating from around 900 years ago (before our country was this country, I told Elijah). It was remarkable!!
The children loved walking through the adobe structures, in and out of low doorways, up newly constructed staircases, around prickly cacti, and down winding trails.
They walked so fast! We reminisced about being like that—running, bolting, backtracking to do it again. But now, less agile perhaps, or just more introspective, we wanted to saunter: to take in the wonder of these creations, made of hands alive a millennia before ours.
Of course, as if there is no other way (Is there? I think not.) to see a National Monument, the children completed the Junior Ranger program.
Another badge, another Ranger performing another, but always new, Oath. The basics are the same, but the Rangers seem to be part of a pact to add a laugh, or at least a giggle, to the experience. As we moved from Tuzigoot to Sedona, hiking part of the Cathedral Rock trail, they kept reminding each other, “We promised NOT to high five a cactus!! Don’t forget, Rangers!”
Except for the ride back, and the subsequent stop for a quick fast food meal, Sedona was the end of the Arizona portion of our trip. We didn’t hurry through the red rocks. We stopped and made 
rock landmarks, climbed up and down empty creek beds, picked up sticks and rocks, dropping them in new homes as we spotted other more interesting shapes.
Julie started a playing music at the end, Van Morrison and Bob Marley—the perfect soundtrack for the moment as children dug in the red dirt, coating their arms with it and yelling out, “Oh no! I got a sunburn!” They repeated each other’s words, laughing each time as if it was the first.
The grown-ups? We just sat back as the sun set low, not even thinking about the time…our clocks were broken, but otherwise we felt really all right.
