The Yeti Tree

A whopping 11 degrees with 90% humidity greeted me as I stepped onto the porch. It was later than usual having spent time arguing with myself about whether or not I was going to run. I won the argument. With the music cued and my tracker going I was off. My mind chose a single train of thought this morning, reflecting on yesterday and the memories we created as a family with our annual Christmas Tree Hunt. Following that track I thought about each golden moment, the laughter, the joy and the precious time spent together. As I rewound those memories, I  kept coming back to our trees. Over the last 25 years our trees have been an interesting lot, each with it's own unique characteristics. My purpose has always been finding the special trees that need a home for the holidays and this year went above and beyond that mission. Please enjoy:

The Yeti Tree

Sitting quietly on the side of the hill Evermore looked around, branches rustling restlessly in the wind. The snow had come early and was very deep. Other trees had trunks buried at least two feet deep, but he was sheltered, caught up against a tall older tree and blocked behind many grandtrees that had gone to the great tree garden in the sky.

Mother Nature was fickle today, at first gently tossing fat snowflakes into the sky and then moving clouds to show tiny patches of blue sky and sunlight. He loved the sunlight best and thought it wonderful when she decided to sprinkle snowflakes and sun at the same time. The flakes would sparkle and shine in the golden rays, almost as if it were snowing brilliant jewels. Evermore sighed watching the clouds hide the blue. The woods rustled differently this time of year. Despite the snow and cold, people would come, braving the drifts and ice, scaling mountains and searching for the perfect tree. Many of his friends scoffed at this tradition; people coming to choose trees to celebrate Christmas. Of course they all knew about Christmas. The story of the birth of baby Jesus had been passed down for longer than his great, great, great grandtrees had been alive and many of the trees had seen Jesus stroll these very forests, especially when someone was scared or lost.

Santa Claus had also taken his place in stories whispered through the branches. Many years, he personally had seen the sleigh racing through the night sky, the sound of sleigh bells warming the hearts of even the scraggliest, crankiest trees. Sometimes he would land at the top of the hill, giving his reindeer a rest. His jolly voice would call to the animals, always bringing a fun treat for them to enjoy.

It was a beautiful time of year, but also a sad time for Evermore. Year after year he heard the cars, the voices, the laughter. Families, friends and dogs would traipse through the forest, darting from tree to tree looking at branches, touching needles and deciding which tree to take home. Some of his friends would move branches and droop as they didn't want to be a Christmas tree, but Evermore knew deep in his bark he was meant to be a Christmas tree. Unfortunately he was not the perfect tree and year after year they would pass him. Of course he understood, his branches were overly large and awkward on the bottom, spindly and skinny on the top. Not to mention many years ago the Yeti had come through looking for boughs to build a new nest. He had chosen Evermore's branches which meant his entire backside was naked. Not a single branch remained. This year was even worse, the snow, the slant of the hill and all of the fallen grandtrees meant he was almost completely hidden. He sighed again, branches brushing the snow.

It was a busy weekend. Evermore had heard many people come through, some close to where he sat, others far away. Even if he wasn't chosen it made him smile to hear the joy and laughter. It seemed when they came through the woods, people forgot their troubles, their happiness touching each of the trees and animals that called the forest home.

Hearing people draw close he swayed to get a better look. It was a family of four, a mom, dad and two older boys. They laughed as with each step the snow gobbled their legs up. The mom was leading the way, breaking trail and laughing as she tried to carry their little dog and manuever up the hill. Evermore quivered, they were actually going up the hill, closer to him than any other people had been all season. They passed just below him, but he continued to peek through branches watching them. He knew they were looking for trees, but they spent time sawing through snow, breaking chunks out and tossing them at each other. They jumped in the snow, dove in the snow and sat in the snow. Happiness tingled up Evermore's trunk as he could feel the pure delight exuding from them.

They continued on and Evermore, heard their voices bouncing on the breeze suggesting they were at the top of the hill. Moving his branches he heard the words that made his bark ache. "I found one here guys, what do you think?" A few minutes later "timber" rode the wind. Although sad he missed another chance, he decided to focus on the excitement they projected into the air. It made him almost as warm as a summer day. The conversations made him smile; discussions on how to get the trees out, which path to follow, who would carry the tree. He liked this family.

Evermore's needles began to tingle as he heard them just above him.

"Do you have the other tree marked."

"Yea, the one I wanted is right there, but I want to check down here."

He could hear the mom; snow crunching, chuckles, groans as she negotiated the steep mountainside and the deep snow. Her boys were above her, laughing and questioning what she was doing. As she got closer Evermore couldn't help but feel the smallest glimmer of hope. He knew he was hidden and out of sight, but what if? He felt the cold tickle of snow brush his bare back as she slid close and he heard, "Oh, there he is." In an instant she was in front of him, brushing snow off his branches, feeling his needles and looking at him from all sides as best she could in his little alcove. The mom looked at his bare back, and Evermore held his breath, knowing that was probably a deal breaker.

It was almost as if she was talking directly to him, "That doesn't matter, that side will be to the wall where nobody see's it anyway." He couldn't be hearing her right, could he? Was she actually choosing him?

"Guys, this is the one. Austin are you going to come down to cut him?"

His trunk warmed and his branches wiggled. He was going to be a Christmas tree. The dad stayed at the top of the hill and the mom and boys took pictures smiling and talking about him.

When they called "timber" Evermore knew he was on his way.

Lifting him up, they took him to the top of the hill and he was in awe. The whiteness went everywhere and the blue sky was endless. He saw another tree they had chosen and they began the journey back down the hill in a much less tangled spot. Evermore was so excited he kept trying to beat the son down the hill, sliding to be parallel with him. The family didn't mind, they simply laughed and moved him.

Evermore's excitement couldn't be contained. When the dad tried to put him on the roof of the car he kept right on rolling off the top and down the other side. They picked him back up and finally he was snugged on with his new friend, ready for the next adventure.

The family piled in and they were off. The joy coursing through his branches was indescribable. Wind shook his needles like never before and he could see forever; blue sky, cars, people, trees, deer, antelope. This had to be how the birds felt when they flew.

When the car stopped for good, they were both taken off the roof and put in a garage. The mom got out a tape measure and walked around, measuring both of them and looking at them up and down. His branches wiggled slightly when she decided he was going to be the upstairs tree. Carrying him in, Evermore sighed, it was warm and cozy with lights and decorations everywhere. He could see where he would be in a corner of honor. The family worked together and Evermore was settled into his stand. His bark dropped just slightly when they realized he wasn't going to stand on his own, his bare side made him unbalanced. Oh how he hoped they wouldn't get rid of him. He listened as they talked about what to do and how a Yeti must have taken a big bite out of him. How did they know? Working together they trimmed some of his branches and then gave him a little support with a string and the wall.

Evermore knew he was with the right family when they talked about previous trees that had been theirs, tying them to the walls, using shims to keep them straight and how every year their tree was special.

It was difficult to stay still as the family gave him a drink of warm water with a little sugar in it and then began to decorate him. The lights were bright and warm nestled in between his needles. Each ornament tickled slightly as it was hung on his boughs, but he smiled listening to the story that came with the ornament.

The final touch was  a beautiful lady in yellow at the very top. He truly felt like the perfect tree.

The family turned all the lights off, except his and a few other Christmas lights. Evermore stood tall as they made noises about the perfect tree, even with the Yeti bite.

The boys all snuggled into chairs and couches just looking at him and the mom and little dog crawled underneath the branches. Looking up through the branches the mom said, "You are the perfect tree." as she drifted off to sleep.

To Run

Stepping onto the front porch, I paused to absorb the pre-dawn, hoping this run would be better than the last few weeks worth. The struggle has been intense. My runs have been slow, my pace has been off and my body has felt disjointed. Discipline was the only thing pushing me when nothing else could.

The morning air was chillier than usual, a sign that summer was on the decline. Realizing days running in shorts and a jog bra were numbered, I was thankful to have pushed myself out of bed. Soon enough I would be back in winter gear.

The moon was fat and orange, hanging lazily in the dark sky. Although nearly full, it seemed muted with the orange absorbing the usual shine. Stars were patchy, peaking through leftover storm clouds and the roads were still wet from the night rain. Inky puddles filled every depression in the road. It was quieter than usual without the normal headlights or taillights. Intermittent street lights and periodic porch lights braved the dark. It was a glorious morning and I was thankful I chose to run.

My legs picked up their rhythm early and the music laced through my veins. Tuning into the soothing cadence I thought about what it meant to run. Over the last five years life has changed dramatically; my career, the growth and maturity of my children, family and friends. In that same time my relationship with running has evolved and with it I have learned many personal lessons and realized the truth in what it means to run?

To run means; understanding aches, pains and injuries. Learning to push through when necessary and taking time to let injuries heal. Listening to my body and knowing when to rest and when to overcome lack of desire.

To run means; learning the physical capabilities of my body. Recognizing perceived limitations and digging deep to push past them. Understanding my body is more powerful than I could have imagined and having the courage to embrace the strength.

To run means; taking responsibillity for my choices and not making excuses. It is never easy to wake up before the day stirs, sometimes with little to no sleep, to workout and run. Each day I choose to work toward a better me, knowing I am the only person that controls my decisions. I take personal responsibility  for my actions. When I don't train it reflects in my races, in how I feel about myself, my temperament and my energy level. When I train my race times are better and my entire being is much happier. It is empowering to take responsibility and not make excuses.

To run means; learning who I truly am without outside static. Running solo with very few distractions gives me time to get better aquainted with myself. My thoughts circle around strengths, weaknesses and how to embrace both. By strengthening my body, I strengthen my spirit and become happier with the person I see every day.  Solitary runs have made me comfortable with being alone and learning my power and purpose are found internally and not externally.

To run means;  learning to choose happiness. True joy is available to everyone, everyday; we choose to embrace it or deny it. The center gained from running has taught me that I choose to be happy or unhappy, positive or negative, view the glass half full or half empty. Life is not fair and we will always face obstacles, even life altering trauma, but we have the choice to react and blame or deal and learn.  I choose which thoughts run through my brain, not only during the run but after. If I am unhappy, it is because I have chosen to be unhappy, by focusing on negative thoughts and choosing to be around negative people. I have learned how important it is to determine who I want in my circle of influence. Who are the people who are empowered and strong? Who are the people working toward being better than they were the day before? Who are the people who choose not to live in a victim mentality day after day? Who are the people who will challenge me to be better? By choosing positive thoughts, being grateful daily and being around other positive people I can amplify my joy and encourage others to choose happiness. 

To run means; my day begins in peaceful compansionship with God. I appreciate his blessings and his works with every step, every breath and every thought. I see the raw beauty of my town set against an endless dark sky. I appreciate the beauty of a falling star or a burning meteor, the intricacy of a snowflake or the diamond twinkle of a raindrop.

To run means; sharing my morning with moments that are lost when the town wakes up; seeing mountain lions, raccoons, deer, antelope, foxes. Experiencing the beautiful rhythm of silence, making the first tracks in falling snow and enjoying running down the middle of an empty street.

To run means; gaining confidence I have never felt before. Confidence to know if I can mentally and physically knock out 27 miles in one run alone, I can conquer anything in my path.

To run means; learning the value and importance of tracking and goals. Watching trends in training and striving to make myself stronger and better each day. As each goal is reached it builds more confidence and feeds a positive, full heart. Setting a new goal brings excitement and joy.

To run means; knowing and understanding there will be good runs and bad runs. Each run will bring a lesson and be an integral part of the journey. It means understanding that not every day is going to be graced with unicorns, rainbows and lollipops and still choosing to persevere.

To run means; an appreciation of time. Time slows when I hit the streets. There are no distractions, no expectations just the music, the road and the run. I have learned to appreciate the importance of 1/10th of a second and to not take time for granted. We are given 86,400 seconds every single day and each second is a beautiful gift.

To run means; being in-tune with the world around me. Being watchful of a shadow within a shadow, the subtle difference of flower scents, changes in how the seasons look and smell. I have learned to be a better observer and listener and to appreciate changes that seem time-lapsed when I run my routes. 

To run means; creating a family that spans far and wide. Runners all over the world understand the time, the commitment, and the strength it takes to get up and get out every day. Runners ignore differences and celebrate every runner, regardless of size, shape and mile time.

My lungs labor as I finish my run. Thankfully it was a better run, still not the best, but better. Glancing around I realize, to run is to breathe, love, laugh, cry and celebrate. To run is to be thankful and blessed.

Run or not to run? Always to run. 

Dangerous Precedent

12.46 miles felt wonderful. It was a beautiful morning and my splits were consistent and strong. The temperature was a gorgeous 51 degrees and I treasured the warm air, dark skies transitioning to light and the smells of summer. Reflecting on my training and future races, I am excited about my progress. As an almost 48 year old woman, I can run some competative times. I have won overall female a couple of races and have been able to podium in my age group on almost every other race. With all of my training, though, there is an inherent realization that my male runner friends will usually beat me. That is not always the case, but as a general rule they are stronger and faster. I don't view this as a negative, it is simply a statement of fact and a reason why there are mens and womens divisions for almost all athletics. Physically and biologically men and women are created differently.

In 1988 I watched in awe as Florence Griffith Joyner become the fastest woman in the world setting new world records in the 100m and 200m dash. As an aspiring high school sprinter I remember following her career; she worked hard, was beautiful and very flamboyant with crazy running outfits, long painted nails and flowing hair. Her dedication was on point and she made setting new women's world records look easy. 30 years later her 100m record of 10.49 seconds and 200m record at 21.34 seconds are still unbroken. In the same vein Marita Koch set the 400m women's record in 1985 at 47.60 seconds, a 33 year old standing record. The men's records are unequivically faster; Usain Bolt holds the 100m and 200m men's records at 9.58 and 19.19 seconds. Wayde Van Niekerk holds the 400m at 43.03 seconds. The men's records range from almost a full second to over 4 seconds faster than the women's records.

To put it further into perspective, when comparing the women's standing world record times, set by professional, olympic athletes, to 2018 national high school boys times, the records don't even rank in the top 50. FloJo's 10.49-100m, would have placed her roughly 94th this year. Her 21.34-200m time would have her roughly tied for 114th and Marita's 400m world record time would have her roughly tied for 70th in the nation.

As a sprinter turned distance runner I have watched the Boston Marathon qualifying times with interest. For men in my age group, 45 - 49 the BQ time is 3:25 and for women in that same group it is 3:55; 30 minutes slower than the men's time. The qualifying time for the youngest female age group, 18 - 34 is 3:35, still 10 minutes slower than a man who is 31 to 15 years older. Indisputable proof that women and men are physically and biologically different.

In 2017 at the Connecticut CIAC State Outdoor Championship Track meet the 100m and 200m were won by a 15 year old transgender female who made the decision to compete in April of that year. In 2018 the 100m, 200m and 400m were won by a transgender sophomore who had previously competed on the boys track and field teams. The 2018 winning times for those events broke the standing Connecticut girls state records. In both instances neither athlete, at the time of their state championship wins, had begun any hormone treatment. In fact one athlete was cautious about hormone treatments, concerned it would slow her times down.  While identifying as females they were competing with the nearly post-pubescent, biological body of a 15 and 16 year old male. In a dangerous precedent, Connecticut High School Association allows transgender athletes to compete on the teams they identify with, without hormone treatments, therapy or sex re-assignment surgery. School records simply need to reflect the change in gender.

Reflecting on all of this my heart worries for the future of women's athletics. I think of the amazing girl athletes that have competed on the track team with my boys for the last several years. In my eyes it would be unfair for my boys to compete in the same races as the girls, even if they identified as being female. My youngest, who was a freshman this year, qualified for state in the boys 4x400 meter relay, but not the open 100m, 200m and 400m. His times were not fast enough to compete in those boys events at state. If he were a transgender female he would have qualified for all three events and had the opportunity to be a state champion as a freshman. Unfortunately it's not as simple as saying if they identify as a female they should be able to compete as a female.

Numerous collegiate, professional and olympic athletes have been stripped of titles for giving themselves an unfair advantage in competition. In fact there is question surrounding the 400m world record set by Marita Koch. Her record was set during a time when Germany and Russia were known for providing performance enhancing drugs to their athletes. Allowing an athlete, who is biologically male, to compete in women's athletics is an unfair advantage.

Women and young girls competing in athletics throughout junior high, high school, college, and truly at any age, have the most to lose as transgender athletes continue to enter the playing field. In an already difficult arena, the biological difference, even after hormone treatments, of a transgender female provides an extreme advantage in athletics. In a hasty effort to provide inclusion for these athletes, programs such as Connecticut's, with their dangerous precedent, risk alienating the majority of female athletes across the country. It is a difficult climate and the perfect solution will not be simple or quickly discovered, but it needs to be approached with logical, clear reasoning, understanding of the true biological differences between males and females and the lasting impact on not only the transgender athlete, but all female athletes.

Courage

The early morning air was almost warm; just shy of 40 degress. It was glorious considering the temperature during my recent runs has been between below zero and 20 degrees. Darkness spanned the sky, broken by thousands of stars. My body felt free without the weight of winter running gear.

My tracker clicked on and music filled my body. Glancing over my shoulder I crossed the street and my legs anxiously stretched out. I was in my happy place. My body and mind were at peace. The last few months have been full of discussions, decisions and changes. I began to think about the impact running has had on my life, especially during these times of stress and indecision.

Running has always been part of my life, but only within the last five years have I enjoyed the quiet personal reflection and introspection during longer runs. As a solo, early morning runner I am blessed with plenty of time and almost no distractions to just think and be. My mind has wandered, thinking about everything, nothing and anything in between. Running in the darkness of predawn, music streaming through my earbuds, the solace of my feet kissing the pavement and the beauty of nearly pure solitude has helped me learn who I am and more who I am meant to be.

Personal discipline was already part of who I was, but it was tested and honed each morning, rising early to run when it would have been easier to stay in bed. I showed up by myself in all types of weather not for a prize or medal, but for who I was becoming. The only accountability was to myself. I learned to push my body to the very limits and back, crossing the pain threshold and finding the incredible strength within. Each step, each mile, each new morning gave me belief, courage, hope and understanding. It became easier to love who I saw in the mirror each day and to realize how incredibly strong we all are. Sometimes our strength is hidden, buried under societal limitations and fear.

My body became stronger as did my mind. Miles from the house I would wage internal wars on finishing the run or throwing in the towel and calling for a ride. Those days my body would be tired, my lungs ached, my feet hurt and my mind would battle. I would justify and make excuses to stop with each stride. The desire to quit would be overwhelming, but I learned to fight; to the next house, the next light, the next block. If I quit I knew there would be supporters, those that would help validate the excuses to keep me comfortable. I forced myself to push past comfortable. During the final strides of the run I would feel powerful and victorious; not a victory recognized on a podium, but one felt deeply in my soul. 

I gained courage and strength to be a confident and unapologetic individual. Each day this journey continues to lead me to the courage buried deep within each of us; courage to be the woman God created; courage to boldly make descisions outside of the comfort zone; courage to use the gifts I was blessed with; courage to be an individual and courage to soar above the flocks.

The lessons and enlightenment have helped navigate many difficult decisions. The last few months have held stress, discussions, pros, cons and the need to understand what course my life needed to take. It seemed to be a battle of comfort and fear. The comfortable path held people and situations that have been part of my life for many, many years. Although comfort doesn't always mean happy it does provide a sense of security. You may not be happy, but you know the players, you know the situations and there is always somebody to commiserate with. Why rock the boat after so many years? Why step away from something that shaped my life? Wouldn't it be like throwing away the years invested by leaving now? These were all valid questions, but my thoughts took me to the lessons of my run. Society craves comfortable, making it almost too easy to be comfortable and miserable than to be uncomfortable and aspiring. I found myself strapped in an environment where individuality and personal growth took a back seat to culture and acquiescence. Years ago my needs were different and now I am different.

There are many people who wouldn't understand, others who would write me off and others who couldn't even grasp why. Fear circled, but it was centered in knowing there will be backlash for the decision to change. Breaking out of the flock, thinking a different thought or challenging a group thought causes fear to those who are comfortable. Individuality is not comfortable and society is afraid of individuality. Where does the courage to change take you? Courage can take you beyond the strappings of society, beyond the mundane and the comfort of the hamster wheel. You stop trying to live in possibilities and begin to make possibilities your reality.

As my feet danced along the pavement I felt courage ride through my body. Tackling the hills, striding the flats and letting gravity take control on the downgrade, I felt my body fill with joy.  Each step of my training, each early morning and each run in inclement weather has taught me courage and in moments like this the abillity to use that courage to find the better, happier and truer me. The final push to the end felt good. My lungs labored and my muscles ached, but I am thankful. My music stopped and I breathed in the morning air. Stars twinkled at me and I felt the burden and stress release. The decision was already made. It was time to shed the shackles and soar on courageous wings.

Change and Wings

Yesterday morning I started my day in a small workout room in Rapid City, SD; six miles on the dreadmill. As much as I despise the dreadmill I was excited to be there. We were on an official NCAA visit for our oldest at the South Dakota School of Mines. As my mind eased into the music and my legs accepted the static rhythm of the dreadmill I begin to think about what the day would entail; visits with athletes and the coaching staff, touring the campus and the chance to visit with engineering professors. Where had the time gone? Just yesterday he was toddling around with his crooked batman smile, wearing his Buzz costume everywhere and asking every question possible with his inquisitive mind. Each step brought a different memory; some made me smile, some made me sad, but all reinforced how blessed I am to be a Mom!

Every day I am thankful for the gift of being a parent. My children are not perfect and as parents we are not even close to perfect.  We have weathered sleepless nights, stays in the hospital, attitude, scrapes, bruises, firsts and lasts. There were moments when we had to make the difficult parent decisions and discipline when it would have been easier to let something slide. I have shed quiet tears in the back of my closet when I was overwhelmed with being a parent, when I didn't think I could take one more sassy comment or when my heart hurt because my kiddo had been hurt by life. The desire to protect was so strong, but we knew that protecting them from everything would not prepare them for the life's curveballs. Our kids have eaten dirt and bugs, have put their mouths on shopping cart handles and lived. They drank out of the garden hose, have ridden their bikes all over town, without a parental tail and have traveled internationally without Mom and Dad . They have had conversations with teachers about grades and made difficult decisions about friends. When they have been hurt, or when everything didn't work out the way they hoped my heart ached. I wanted so badly to make it better, to fix the wrong, but I offered love and support and walked them through how best to deal with the dissappointment. Life isn't fair and it doesn't always work out the way we want. It is just as important to know how to lose as it is to know how to win.

Our lives changed drastically when we decided to have kids. We went from almost six years as DINKS (dual income, no kids) to having a little person who was now solely our responsibility. Gone were Sunday afternoons devoted to NASCAR and long naps, last minute road trips, late night drinks and dancing with friends as well as many other little things that were part of our lives. We have always tried to do our best, but parenting does not come with a guide book. Plenty of advice was given along with condemnation from those who believed we were doing it wrong, We shared plenty of laughter and tears. In the end our hope is to love our children, no matter what; provide a safe and happy home to grow in; celebrate the small moments as those are the moments that matter and raise them to be good, strong, faithful, independent, healthy members of society. 18 years is such a short time to have them close, love on them and help them develop their wings.

Raising our boys we expected them to be kind, compassionate, think for themselves and always give their best effort. We tried to set a good example for them to follow. Part of setting that example was letting our kids understand we are not perfect parents and have and will continue to make mistakes in all aspects of life. We don't try to make mistakes they are simply part of life and perfection is unattainable. The most important lesson is to not make the same mistakes twice and to learn from the ones you have made. We expect their best effort always, and taught them to take responsibility for their effort and the choices they make. We didn't helicopter parent; jumping in when things weren't just right, trying to pave a perfect path; doing things for them they could do themselves. We taught them to be self sufficient and to take responsibility for the decisions they make. They have made mistakes, learned from them and will continue to do so.

As parents we never answered with, "Because I said so." I remember when the boys were little we were strict on bedtime. We created a routine, bath, book and bed at the same time every night. We never fought with them about it. It just was expected. The first time we visited family when other cousins were around, Tyler asked why he had to go to bed when everyone else stayed up. (The boys stayed up late on numerous occasions, but when they were little the lack of sleep made them cranky). I explained how important sleep was to a growing kiddo. It kept him healthier, let his body heal and helped him grow.  It made sense to him and he didn't feel bad about going to bed.

As the boys grew older, the conversations changed from bedtimes to smoking, vaping, alcohol and drugs. We told them they would be tempted in many situations and to realize, ahead of time, there would be consequences for their choices. We made sure they understood they would be responsible for those consequences; if you drink under the age of 21, it is illegal. If you get arrested or do something stupid you will have multiple consequences to face. You have to decide if that is worth it to you. We talked about reaching out to us in the midst of a bad decision to not make a decision even worse; don't ever drink and drive or get in a car with someone who has been drinking and driving. EVER. Their uncles were wonderful examples of reaching out and asking for rides Our hearts ached as some of their lifelong friends began to make decisions about drinking, marijuana, vaping and smoking. The boys were faced with choosing time they spent with those friends.

We encourage them to think for themselves and not simply regurgitate something they heard; research it, understand it and have a basis for your personal belief and thoughts. We have learned as much from our boys as they have learned from us. We treasure their thoughts, and perspectives. Our ideas aren't always the same and the boys don't always agree with us, but it is done with mutual respect. To be strong in earning their wings they should develop their own thoughts, beliefs and opinions.

At 18 and 15 the boys still hug us in front of friends. They tell us they love us and actually enjoy spending time together as a family. The are good friends and depend on each other rather than hammering on each other. They stand up for what they believe in, have compassion for others and think for themselves.

After my run we headed, as a family, to SDSMT. The visit went well and we watched as Tyler asked his questions and took in everything the campus had to offer. He shook hands with coaches and professors, asked good questions, answered questions and formed his own opinion of the experience. We were so glad to be part, not to hover, but to share in his joy. When the final visit has been made and all of the options weighed Tyler will make HIS decision and we will support his decision.

During the five hour ride home I gloried in the setting sun and the chance to be together as a family. The boys were in the back, watching a childhood movie. I smiled when T asked Austin, "What does this remind you of?" Austin's answer, "Pure nostalgia." I soaked up their conversation more than usual, their back and forth thoughts on the movie, their silly comments, their friendship and love for each other. We only have months left to share these experiences with both of our boys.

Life is constant change. Each season brings joy, laughter, memories and usually a few tears. As the sun sets on this season of our life and our 18 year old begins his own seasons, we pray he continues to be the smart, talented and strong individual we raised. We encourage him to continue to make mistakes, to live life fully and to know that he always has a safe place to land.

Our hearts will ache at graduation and things will never be the same, but our joy is in knowing we raised Tyler to be his own person. He will be stronger without the shadow of mom and dad. We worked on preparing him as well as preparing ourselves for the day he is ready to spread his wings and soar.