memory lane

I’m listening to the Frank Sinatra Christmas Album. I remember playing the CD at our Christmas Eve open house, long before music could be streamed on sites like Pandora. My brother took a liking to it, which meant that during the month of December I’d routinely go hunting for it in his room. Christmas was his favorite holiday. 

This year seems to be a bit easier on my Mom. A couple weeks ago we took PATCO to Philly and saw the light show at Macy’s. The house is decorated a little bit. She even asked my dad to put up some lights outside. He declined, which leads me to believe that he is struggling right now. 

I am starting to realize that new people will constantly enter my life, unaware. This could result in awkwardness when asked about my holiday. It has become just another day. 

Today I was thinking about the holiday visits we would make to relatives during the week between Christmas and New Years. My brother and I always dreaded visiting my Father’s Aunt and Uncle. Their house was so boring, but they always gave us a crisp ten dollar bill, which made it worth it. The year we both received a Game Boy definitely made that visit much easier. 

The thing that I am the most sad about this year is that I don’t have anyone to reminisce with about these things. The thing that I am the most thankful for this year is that I have these memories, even if I can no longer share them with him.

suck it up buttercup

On January 1st of this year I began using exclusively cold water when showering. I wasn’t sure how long this would last. Starting during the cold winter months wasn’t exactly the best timing for this experiment. Yet, I persevered and have stuck with it for almost an entire year.

When I turn on the shower there are no surprises. I know that the water is going to be ice cold. I know that I have no choice but to embrace the chill. Skirting around the edges, dipping in my toe only delays the inevitable. It is best to dive in, head first, to immerse myself in the freezing water.

It has been an exercise in mental toughness. I don’t know how else to explain it. The benefit has been most noticeable on the days when I don’t feel like fulfilling my (personal and/or work related) responsibilities. This time last year I wouldn’t have thought twice about it. Now, it isn’t even an option.

down the rabbit hole

My journey began shortly after I made the decision to sell my Focus Mares CX. It was the race bike that I always wanted, but I don’t race anymore and it never fit quite right. 

I considered using the funds from the sale to finance a new build...something fun...something versatile. 
Ultimately, I decided on a steel gravel bike. 

Google searches yielded an abundance of useful information about the different types of steel, brake options, frame geometry, etc. Deep into my search I came across an article about a small shop in Point Reyes, California titled “The Black Mountain Cycles Road Might Be the Most Underrated Bike of 2017.” 

The owner confirmed that the geometry on the 52cm frame was nearly identical to my Cannondale road bike. I was sold. Thus was the start of my passion project. No detail was spared...the bar tape, bottle cage, cable housing, brakes, tires and components are just as they should be. 

This is the bike that would have belonged to my brother if he still lived on McKean Street in South Philly. He would have ridden it (in his skinny jeans) to watch the Flyers play at a local bar, then down to Gino’s for a late night bite to eat.  

On Sunday, I will ride this bike for the first time at the Gravel Fondo and can’t help but think that he will cross my mind more than a few times.

snowflakes

I'll be the first to admit that at times I can be a bit abrasive. My (possibly flawed) rationale is that I’d never “dish out” what I could not take. Unfortunately, people have grown increasingly sensitive (snowflakes) to the point where just about anything you say is bound to offend someone. 

I was having this conversation with one of my training clients last week. She told me that often it’s not what you say but how you say it. And so I practiced it...I rehearsed it and when presented with an opportunity I gave it a shot. 

Even though I am a trainer gym I’m hesitant to offer suggestions and/or corrections to those whom I do not work with personally...BUT...there is this woman who weighs all of 100 pounds and runs on the treadmill as if she were a 350 pound sumo wrestler. I can hear her through my headphones. I can hear from the opposite side of the gym. I can ever hear her when I shut the door behind the training desk while doing yoga. Needless to say, it is irritating. I’ve critiqued her form endless times. The problem is that her heels never strike the ground. Running on your tip toes three to four miles a day cannot be a good thing. It’s gotta cause some major calf pain. 

I saw her in the locker room and asked if her calves hurt. She looked at me as if I was some type of genie or wizard...and replied that she had recently returned to running after tearing a calf muscle and that they hurt all the time. I explained the reason why and offered a suggestion...put the treadmill on a very slight incline and focus on allowing your heel to make some contact with the ground. It looked like the lightbulb went on. It looked like she got it...and she thanked me and was on her way. 

The next day I arrived to work, welcomed by her incessant pounding. Inconspicuously, I passed and noticed the incline had not budged. Oh well, if she didn’t heed my advice at least I found a non-offensive way to tell her...that is a win in my book!

the dichotomy of grief

A couple weeks ago I received a text. It said something to the effect of “I know we haven’t kept in touch recently but...” I didn’t respond, but did acknowledge the message in my own way, which is more than most people would have done. 

It’s remarkable, the way in which people can process a similar event (losing a family member at a young age) in completely different ways. 

I share this common thread with two people in my life. In one instance it has brought us closer together. In one it has driven us apart. 

I don’t know when the grieving process ends, if ever, but I do know that my experience with it has brought me closer to some people. It has also driven others out of my life completely...and that is my own choice...and right now, I am ok with the decisions that I have made.

My 43rd Year

Jo Jo’s Super Dogs, Amy’s Omelette House, Harrison House, handups (are not a crime)...CX blues...It’s all about the pancakes...Breakfast club...Legacy, Metro, Colonial Diner, Local Links, Herman’s, Turning Point, New Berlin, Ewing Diner, Cafe Seventy Two...Human Village, Eclipse, Atco Brewing Company, Berlin Brewing Company, Screamin’ Hill, Slack Tide, Death of the Fox...ten bucks and a beer...ab mat, ab dolly, speed rope...core and abs, boot camp, battle rope, FitMix...the golden key, Donna's Fan...S-Town...Denver Colorado...Great Divide, pancake flights, robusty, brownies, Voodoo Doughnut, Left Hand , Christkindl Market, Rocky Mountain National Park...DFT, donuts and deadlifts, intermittent fasting, BCAA, Strong Lifts 5x5, AMRAP...Halo Top, Enlightened...chick pea pasta, black bean pasta, lentil pasta...spicy hummus, fit fuel, oh yeah one...Hello Fresh...Aldi, hot sauce, sweet potatoes...peanut butter sandwiches, hide ’til Thursday...Brooks, Asics, La Sportiva...Altra Superior, Lone Peak, Timp...Number Thirty Seven, CBLSL...Clement tires, MXP, LAS...No Tubes, Knog lights, Handup Gloves, Osprey...Focus CX, commute by bike...Voodoo Doughnut (again), I drive your truck, Picnik, playground, Mount Bonnell, Lazarus Brewing Company...Rizzeri Salon, Pantene beautiful lengths, nine inches, hairs the story...it will grow back...Chewy, Mr. Softee, Hazelnator...White Mountains...Joe Dodge Lodge, extra dessert, private bunk room, all up hill...Carter Moriah Traverse, Wildcat A, Wildcat D, Carter Dome, Middle Carter, South Carter, Moriah...Another round of four thousand footers...Highland Center, to go containers...Tom, Field, Willey...Rek-Lis Brewing Company, Schilling Beer Company...sunrise, Osceola, East Osceola...Serial...Kia Soul, popcorn, Starbucks...George Washington Bridge...Connecticut traffic...#milesformatt...Ford Focus, Lafayette Campground, Coleman air mattress...Cannon, North Kinsman, South Kinsman...cannon balls, wet socks, Fishin’ Jimmy, Lonesome Lake Hut, baked goods...Hancock, South Hancock, mud, scree, bad coffee, day old donuts...Katz Coffee, Texas Coffee Traders, Endgrain, Long Bottom, Koffee Kult...pleasant morning buzz...Cafe Bustelo, Reddi Whip...DD Perks, dollar coffee, chocolate milk Pisker’s, Randolph’s, L&M, Deluxe, Gallo’s, Mc Millan’s, Live Love Donut, Nino’s Pastry Sop, Donut Revolution, Di Bartolo’s, Broadway Bakery...Tour de Donut...#commuterlife #campfifty #cancersucks #livelikeroo #donuts #drinklocal #gymfamily #nofilter #gertiestrong #godblesstexas #montanastrong...my first year without you

Tour de Donut

My devotion to cream donuts is something that’s been cultivated over the past two years. I blame it on my training clients. It started when Diane’s husband brought me a chocolate chip cookie from Whole Foods. From there it progressed to bismarcks, ultimately ending with the chocolate frosted, chocolate cream donut from Randolph’s. Occasionally, a white paper bakery bag containing two of these treasures would appear by my stuff in the morning. Training clients began to take notice...oh, Randolph’s is good, but have you had L&M? They are the best. A box containing four donuts soon followed. Word has since spread and now, pretty much everyone at the gym knows. Cream donuts are gifted to me on a regular basis. Currently, I am averaging four per week. 

I was talking “donuts” over lunch with a friend last month. It was her birthday and I figured we’d grab a donut to celebrate. After scanning the internet for options, I deferred to the waitress. She lamented that there really weren’t any bakeries in the area to get a good cream donut and then suggested we could try Nino’s Pastry shop. I called ahead to confirm that they had them. There were only three left so I asked the woman to set aside two. They looked much better than they tasted. The cream was flavorless and the cake potion had an unpleasant aftertaste. 

I felt as though my friend had been short changed on her birthday donut. Knowing there is an abundance of good bakeries in my area, she suggested that we celebrate my birthday with a Tour de Donut. This was an AMAZING suggestion and I was slightly jealous that I had not thought of it. Route planning began immediately and resulted in a 26-ish mile ride with stops at five locations. 

The first annual Tour de Donut (Donna’s birthday edition) took place on September 16, 2017. 

First stop: Gallo’s Bakery, Cherry Hill 
Sandwich type, soft cake, cream is sweet but not overpowering 





Second stop: Deluxe Bakery, Runnemede 
Sandwich type, cake is more firm and has a yellowish color, cream is sugary sweet 
These actually taste much better frozen 
Best value at $.70 per donut 


Third stop: Donut Revolution, Barrington 
I decided to break with tradition on this one and support a new local business. This shop serves specialty donuts. I opted for the peanut butter cup. It looked much better than it tasted. In theory, it is a delicious idea, but the base donut had a spiced taste to it that was overpowering and clashed with the other flavors. 

Fourth stop, McMillan’s Bakery, Westmont 
YES, PLEASE! The cream donut with granulated sugar (as opposed to powdered sugar) is my current favorite. And, while I haven’t had all of the cream donuts in the area, this is the best I have tasted so far. 
Sandwich type, cake is not too soft, not too firm and the cream is smooth, almost buttery. Eat one now, save one for later. 
Priciest at $1.40 per donut but worth it

Fifth stop: Randolph’s Bakery, Maple Shade 
Ah, the place that started it all! 
Stuffed type, cake is soft, chocolate cream has just the right amount of sweetness. My only complaint is that they don’t have enough cream in the middle. 

The tour ended with a stop at Wawa for dollar coffee. 

My actual birthday isn’t until the end of this week, but I am fairly certain that there will be an abundance of donuts on that day.

#milesformatt New Hampshire Edition: Cannon and the Kinsmans

There were heavy rains on Tuesday night. I woke up to overcast skies, which were predicted to clear as the day progressed...that, combined with the fact that I had all day for this hike (which started just steps away from my campsite) had me in no rush to get started. I made my way up the hi-cannon trail in what felt like a rainforest. The trees were wet, the trail was muddy and the air was heavy...then came the fog. It was a miserable way to start the day, but the purpose of these miles kept me going. Thoughts began swirling through my head and then I smiled...”you fucker” I said out loud. The first hike my brother and I did together was Siyeh Pass in Glacier National Park. We were completely fogged in when we got to the cairns. 

I stood on Cannon, completely fogged in and smiled, recalling our hike and the memories of that trip. From Cannon I made my way across the Kinsman ridge. It was possibly the most miserable trek I’ve made in the Whites. The trail conditions sucked (slick and muddy) and the “cannon balls” kicked my ass. The skies had cleared by the time I reached the summit of North Kinsman. I made a quick stop then pushed on to South Kinsman, where I was rewarded with a 360 degree, a dry pair of socks and a peanut butter sandwich. 

It was a slow descent on the Fishin’ Jimmy trail to my next stop, Lonesome Lake Hut for a delicious baked good! There was plenty of time until dinner so I spent some extra time at the hut chatting with hikers and gathering information about the best local pizza place...which I promptly made my way to at the end of the hike.

the day my brother died

On the day my brother died I was working at the gym. I had a few minutes between clients to make a quick call to my mom. I was in touch with her several times a day to get status updates. The one I received the previous night indicated that his vitals were good and there was no need to change my Friday flight to Texas. That was not the case on Wednesday morning. She told me that if I wanted to see him that I had better come right away. 

I hung up the phone and booked a flight for that evening. I made arrangements for Hazel to be picked up and boarded. I got changed, packed my bag and pedaled home to pack. 

The next several hours were a blur…and then I was on the ground in Austin, TX. My parents picked me up and we made a quick stop at the grocery store before heading to the house. We were half way home when my mom’s phone rang. It was Mart (Matt’s father in law). Everyone had been taking turns staying over night at the hospice. Wednesday was Mart’s night. I answered the phone...Matt’s dying you had better come right away...

I will never forget those words. 

He was already gone by the time we arrived. My mom said she had a feeling that Mart was going to be the one there with him. I had a feeling that he waited until he knew I was there with my parents. 

In many ways August 17, 2017 is more difficult than August 17, 2016. A full year of holidays, birthdays, anniversaries and memories have passed without him...365 sunsets. 

I still keep his final text on my phone...just wish we had more time...

what's inside

I’ve been taking the long way to work in the morning. It’s only a few miles longer, but it’s safer and a more scenic.

I pass the man who walks the old, one eyed yellow lab...the runner whose left shoulder is three inches lower than his right...the lady who jog walks while talking on her phone. It’s predictable and it often feels like deja vu.

Last week a couple of strong storms rolled through the area. My morning commute along Newton Lake was littered with tree branches, which forced me to ride with a bit more caution. Glancing down, I noticed a folded dollar bill on the grass by the curb. I passed it, then circled back (because hey, a dollar buys me a donut at Randolph’s) and picked it up. There were two bills...on the outside was a dollar, on the inside was a twenty dollar bill.

And the moral of the story is...

another round of four thousand footers

Last June I borrowed a book from a friend. It was a small miracle that I finished it (I am not a reader). 

The title of the book was “Following Atticus.” It was about a miniature schnauzer who climbed all forty-eight of New Hampshire’s four thousand foot peaks. As I worked my way through the book I started to realize that I had completed a good portion of the forty-eight. I joined a group on Facebook called “The four thousand footer club-climbing and hiking in New Hampshire” and decided to complete the list.

In July I completed the Wildcat Carter Moriah Traverse. Last weekend I made my way north for two days of hiking (Tom, Field, Willey, Osceola and East Osceola) and added another five to the list.

On Friday night I stayed at the AMC Highland Center, which provided me with an excellent dinner (as well as a to go container, ninja style). Saturday morning I was up early and had breakfast with an AMC volunteer, who completely understood that I was traveling on a budget and applauded my “forward thinking” when I once again pulled out some tupperware to store pancakes, oatmeal and peanut butter sandwiches.

The trailhead was located by the parking lot at the Highland Center. I spent most of the morning alone, which was nice (no one in NH seems to hike before 9am) and made really good time up to Avalon (which had a fantastic view) then on to Field, Willey and Tom. I only had to backtrack about a mile on this ten mile “semi loop” of a hike. I was off the trail in four and a half hours, well under the book time of six hours and forty five minutes. This allowed me the rest of the afternoon to explore the area and drink beer.

Seven hours of driving, six hours of sleep, ten miles of hiking and a few beers...the recipe for an EARLY BEDTIME! I checkin into the Lafayette Place Campground shortly before 4pm, set up my tent, ate pancakes, chicken, sweet potatoes and a peanut butter sandwich, then passed out only to wake up three hours later, starving. I sat in the car and ate a bowl of oatmeal with peanut butter while studying the map, then went back to bed. 

It was an early morning. I was on the trail by 6am to ensure I’d get home at a decent hour. Mount Osceola was an afterthought. I originally planned on Cannon and the Kinsmans, but that was a longer, more strenuous hike and I wanted to enjoy it. 


The rocky terrain made it difficult to get into a rhythm. This was the first time I’ve been on a trail in New Hampshire with switchbacks. Usually, the trail goes straight up. I was thankful for this, even if it made the hike a little longer. An hour and twenty minutes later, I was on top of Mount Osceola all by myself. The view was amazing!


After indulging in a cold brew and biscotti, I made my way toward East Osceola. It was a short mile between the peaks, which included a technical section called “the chimney” which was basically vertical rock climbing.

The descent to the parking lot seemed much easier than the ascent (which is atypical for me). In the last mile I saw several groups just starting their hike, which made me happy that I got an early start. After a quick change of clothes I was in the car and headed south. 

Only 18 more to go!

one day early

I was almost half way to work by the time I realized that tomorrow is the 17th. Monday is a long day for me. This week, my parents are in Texas so the Hazelnator will be alone.

Fueled by last night’s pizza and Cheez-Its, I decided to scrap my original workout plan and ride my thirty seven miles this morning. 

Sunday morning is a good time to ride because the roads are quiet. The weather was perfect. I was making good time, despite wearing a backpack which contained 60 ounces of water and my work clothes.

At mile 33 I thought there wouldn’t be a chance I’d do this in under two hours. At mile 34 I decided to dig a little deeper and pulled it off. 

It felt good to suffer.

A few hours later I was walking the dog and found this. It was your way of reminding me that you are at peace.

Day 2: The Traverse

Sunrise was a few minutes after 5AM, but I was awake shortly before it. I was nervous...I was excited...but most of all, I was ready to tackle this hike. 

I played around with sock and shoe options the night before, but hadn’t settled on anything. Ultimately, I decided to go with the Smartwool/Cascadia combination that got me through the Presidential Traverse in 2015. 

The GPS on my Garmin Forerunner 25 would only be good for eight hours so I decided to use it on the first leg of my journey, up the Wildcats to the Carter Notch Hut. After a quick look at the map I was on my way. Ten minutes later I had the map out again, doubting myself. Did I go the wrong direction? Shouldn’t I have seen a sign by now? I kept walking and a few minutes later saw the sign for the Wildcat Ridge Trail. 

Here we go... 

The Challenge: The Wildcats are no joke! The trail was difficult and steep. There were sections where I was scrambling on my hands and knees. The best word to sum up this section of the trail would be “relentless.” 

Nearly three hours of solitude had passed before encountering my first set of humans, two older men traveling south. They asked where I was going and I told them I had started at Pinkham Notch this morning and was headed to Mount Moriah. Their response was “Wow, you are really moving!” Which put the wind back in my sail as I made the final push toward Carter Notch Hut. 

I had climbed over 3,100 feet in under six miles. I was ready for a sandwich.  

The View: After a brief stop at the hut I was ready to tackle the climb up to Carter Dome. It sucked, but the worst was over and it was time to enjoy the scenery. The Carters were a pleasant walk in the woods. Going slightly out of my way to access Mount Hight (Zeta Pass Trail) was well worth it. The views were AMAZING! 

The Battle: The signage on the AT isn’t too great which had me guessing how much longer it would be until I stumbled upon Mount Moriah. I could hear some voices in the distance so it had to be close, but then the voices faded and I sensed that something wasn’t right. A quick map check confirmed that I had missed the cut off for Moriah (thankfully not by much) so I backtracked and followed the voices. On my sixth peak of the day, I encountered someone to snap a photo...and of course, his little ankle biter of a dog photobombed me. 

I was 3.8 miles away from completing the traverse. I wanted to finish in under twelve hours...I wanted to eat a big piece of cake...but most of all, I didn’t want to fall descending slippery rock slabs. With half a mile left the bugs started to get BAD...like bad to the point where I used sunglasses to protect my face and a buff wrap to protect my ears and nose. I stashed my poles and began continuously waving my hands in an attempt to saw them away. I am thankful that this only happened on the end of my journey, otherwise it would have been a pretty miserable experience.

I popped out of the Carter Moriah Trail (in eleven and a half hours) and scared the shit out of an older woman who was sitting on her front step. She pointed me in the direction of the footbridge and I walked to my car. 

On the ride back to the lodge I contemplated what I wanted more, to eat or to shower. Surprisingly, the shower won, which means I must have been pretty skanky (or delirious). When I got to the dining hall I loaded up on roasted sweet potatoes, shepherd’s pie and salad (for good measure). Dessert was strawberry shortcake, which wasn’t nearly as good as the coconut cake that was served the night before. Thankfully, I grabbed an extra piece of that, but I still ate the shortcake. I think I earned a second dessert that night.

Day 1: Pinkham Notch and the car spot

I left early on the morning of July 4th (which is the perfect day to travel). The roads were clear and I made it to Pinkham Notch in under seven hours. Check in time at Joe Dodge Lodge was 3pm, but the desk attendant let me store my bags in her office. This enabled me to spot my car and return in time for dinner.

The parking area on Promenade Street was a short walk from the end of my hike (AKA Point B). I parked my car, put the wheels on my bike and rode back to the lodge. The woman I spoke with a few days prior to my arrival informed me that it would be an easy ten mile ride down hill. For this reason I didn’t swap cassettes or replace the trainer tires. Apparently, she misunderstood the direction in which I was traveling. After a ten mile climb, I showered, did yoga and ate dinner.




My hike would begin (AKA Point A) on the Lost Pond Trail, located directly across the street from the lodge. My goal was to complete the traverse in twelve hours, but I gave myself some wiggle room to ensure I would make it back to Pinkham Notch in time for dinner. After the dessert I had on Wednesday night there was no way I’d be missing that meal!

good for the soul...

it’s a phrase that i was introduced to a few months ago. at the time, i had come to the realization that i needed to purchase a pair of water proof trail shoes for a hiking trip. they weren’t in my budget, but someone told me to buy them and go on the trip because it was “good for the soul.”

i didn’t find a pair that fit and ended up postponing the trip. since then, i have been waiting for a “weather window” of two nice days that would enable me to complete at least one of two hikes in the white mountains. it looked like that was going to happen next weekend, but the forecast changed and now that is in question.

i have come to learn that what is good for my soul isn’t necessarily what is good for my wallet. missing a couple days of work isn’t the best financial decision, but wednesday will be absolutely delightful...so i will drive to new hampshire on tuesday and get an early start on wednesday.

The numbers:
20 miles
6 four thousand footers
7,200 feet elevation gain
12 hours or less is my goal

google "carter traverse" for more information

hair's the story...

My blog tends to be a little bit more personal than my Facebook posts. It’s always been that way. I don’t know why. Anyone from Facebook can easily access this site with one click.

Last year, I decided to grow out my hair for donation. Since then I lost my brother as well as another close family friend (to cancer)..and three family friends received the diagnosis.

Hair needs to be eight inches for donation and mine was sitting at nine so it was ready, but the bigger question...was I? It’s only hair and it will grow back...for some reason I was attached to it, even though all I have done for the past several years is wear it in a pony tail.

It was a memory that helped me through the decision making process. You see, this weekend last year (Father’s Day 2016) was the last time I saw my brother. It became clear to me that the time was right.

I can’t say I love it. I can’t say I hate it. It won’t change my life either way, but hopefully it will make a difference in the life of someone else.

Today also marks ten months since my brother passed away. Thank you to all of those who have read my words as I fumble through the grieving process.