Race Day Recap

IMG_1647Race number 10 is in the books. For some, 10 races is a typical summer. For me, it was a number I never thought in a million years I’d hit. I mean, seriously, me? Finish 10 races… 7 of which were half-marathons? Seems absurd.

My tenth race was a repeat of Journey’s in Eagle River, Wisconsin. It was the 20th anniversary of the race. It is the perfect small-town race in a cute tourist town that has not one but two candy shops on Main Street and three local coffee shops.

I’m happy to say I finished the race. But, if I’m being honest, it was a rough race, as in, really rough. There was of course the mishaps leading up to the race – winter illnesses, losing my mojo and skipping a few key runs, not losing any weight, and then my first real injury. Two weeks before the race I self-diagnosed myself with what I can only describe as plantar fascia. In my unprofessional medical opinion, it wasn’t severe but solid pain. I have a super low tolerance for pain so this was an epic injury. It also came at a time when I wanted to quit anyway. I knew I wasn’t going to set a PR or in fact have a run I could feel good about. This in itself would have been enough, but then there was the extended forecast. Over the course of a week, I watched the forecast plummet from a high of 40 to 25 degrees and a mix of rain, sleet and snow be predicted for game day. Seeing this, I really wanted to quit.

Thanks to VRBO, I had already paid for our weekend away. It was non-refundable at this time so we decided to head to Eagle River anyway. On Friday, I was still trying to decide if I should run a 10k or Half-marathon. My foot felt ok but by this time, I hadn’t put on any serious miles in two weeks. I went to packet pick-up Friday night still unsure what I was going to register for. As I filled out the registration slip, I wanted to circle 10k but chose half-marathon. Before I could change my mind I turned my slip in. In my hurry to not back pedal, I forgot I recently had a birthday and officially registered as a 37-year old instead of 38. I left the registration area and cried the entire way back to the cabin. I was frustrated, disappointed and seriously questioning if I could even cross the finish line.

I awoke Saturday morning to sunshine. From the comfort of the cabin, it didn’t seem too bad. Then I saw the snow on the ground and heard the howling of the wind through the cabin walls. It was a mere 20 degrees out. A series of mishaps, including trying to get anywhere on time with a toddler and my coffee shop moving, made me the last person to load the last bus heading to the start line. Slamming my McDonalds skim mocha on the drive up, I realized I really didn’t want to get off the bus. But, when the bus stopped on the start line and herded the stragglers (me) off, I realized there was no turning back. I had made it this far. And at this point, the only option was to try my best and get over that finish line, even if I was crawling.

In the 20-minutes leading up to the race I went to the bathroom twice, posted on Facebook, chatted with racers, and attempted to stay warm in the freezing temperatures, pelting sleet and wind. I admired the well-kept red pine forest and thanked the volunteers who weren’t even going to get a medal for being here. The announcer eventually lined us up where he shared words about life and used cliché phrases like it isn’t about the destination but the journey. The Star Spangled banner blared in the forest and then the gunshot. My feet started moving. They weren’t moving fast but they were moving. They did for the next 13.1 miles.

Over the course of the next 3+ hours, I was passed by power walkers and full-marathoners, serenaded with polka music, honked at and had strangers clap for me like I was some sort of rockstar. I nursed my foot for the first 4 miles, and then the next 5 miles. With 4 miles left, it was clear this would be one of my worse races ever. But, I was still moving. I texted my husband a revised estimate of when I’d cross the finish line. I eventually made it. And guess what? It was the same medal. I crossed the line knowing I wasn’t a quitter. My son later said, “Mommy ran super fast.”

By all accounts, this was not a good race. The weather was horrible. My training was horrible. My time was horrible. I didn’t hit any of my goals. Except for one. I didn’t quit. I’m not sure what comes next. But I do know that whatever is next, I’ll show up and try my best. And for now, that is enough.

The Probst Funny Farm has Expanded!

The newest ladies of Moon Lake!
The newest ladies of Moon Lake!

The Probst Family Farm got a little bigger this past week with the leasing of chickens. We borrowed four beautiful Columbian Hens from my friend Clare of Elsewhere Farm in Herbster. In theory, we dropped a small fortune on a coop for these lovely ladies for Jake so he could learn more about the responsibilities of caring for a pet. But let’s be real… these are really just a flashback to my youth and some of my fondest memories of growing up on the outskirts of town. Our seasonal neighbors haven’t returned, yet, so I’m just hopeful they are as excited about this new addition to our neighborhood as our family. I will say, the shrill of the loon and the tenor of our lady hens makes for an interesting lake orchestra.

This addition to our family combined with hitting up my favorite annual plant sale at Hauser’s in Bayfield made for an eventful weekend. I planned to just buy a bit more asparagus to fill out my bed that the polar vortex did a number on a few years back. But, walking in that barn and seeing those bins full of bare root perennials is like a close-out sale of Coach purses. This reminds me… a few weeks back one of my besties empowered me to buy my first coach purse. Her name is Lucy. I generally am not this superficial but I do love her. By the time I checked out at Hauser’s, my bill at Coach seemed quite small compared to my latest landscaping investment.

I digress. Anyways, the combined events made for an adventurous weekend. Our travels for both chickens and plants lead Jake to 5 playgrounds in the bi-county region. At the end of the day, he came home to find that our hens had already laid their first eggs. In a moment of sheer delight, he scooped them and promptly cracked them. Since then, we’ve been working on retrieving the eggs, gently. It is a work in progress.

I topped off my weekend with a run to one of my favorite pizza places in Brule. It is about a 9-mile run from my house via the Tri-County Corridor. It was going to be one of my last long races in anticipation of the race next weekend. But, the trail was packed with thick gravel and my ankles that have only been training on pavement this year were not able to acclimate to this. By mile 5, they were rejecting my body. I somehow managed to hobble my way to pizza but I’m a hurting girl.

Today, I headed out on my lunch hour to pack a few more miles in and it was rough. Rather than force the run, I did a combination of walking and running. I also turned off my headphones and enjoyed the sound of the raging river. It was a nice break from my training routine and to be honest, I don’t think it really matters at this point how many more runs I get in before showtime. I’m definitely not ready for next week’s race. Despite training for the past 17-weeks, my weight is the same. This combined with missing a few key long runs and I’m not sure what will happen next weekend. But, I’m going to show up and try. Afterwards, it’ll be time to regroup and figure out what’s next.

That’s the latest from Moon Lake. I’m sure I’ll be posting plenty post race. Plus, once this race is behind me, I hope to get out into the woods to take some photos and play with the GoPro. Not to mention, I do want to experiment with strapping one to one of the hens to look at life from their view. Stay tuned…

Ignoring the Signs

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Michigan Ice Festival, 2016

Signs often give direction, suggestions, information needed to get from point a to point b. In my case, the signs I encountered on my way to the sheet of ice I was about to attempt to ascend at the Michigan Ice Festival in Munising said run the other way.

It started with my travel buddy being sick. She alerted me the day before and while it would have been easy enough to cancel the trip, we decided to go anyway. It was sunny skies and temperate weather in Iron River. A few hours later, as I drove over the Michigan border, visibility was deteriorating quickly. Within an hour, plows had abandoned all hope of keeping roads clear leaving us nothing but marginal trail tracks, rumble strips and snow covered signs guiding us through the UP. By the time we hit Marquette, even my well-trained winter driving skills were maxed out.

We fueled up at a UP favorite—Donckers. Walking down Main Street headed to get our fill of chocolate, I couldn’t help but question my sanity. The road was shutdown and packed with several feet of snow in anticipation of an evening sled dog race scheduled to take place in sub-zero temperatures. We didn’t hesitate to tromp over the barricades and snow piles for our caramels.

wroadclosedBut, perhaps the biggest sign was the one I almost hit (literally) on our final leg of the journey. MI-28, the main interstate between Marquette and Munising, was closed. Somehow, I missed the sign notifying me that this main artery was no longer passable. The barricades, while barely visible, were hard to miss. Did I mention they were placed nowhere near a detour as well?

Did we turn around? Absolutely. Did we head home? Absolutely not. Instead, we navigated our way through the back roads of the UP. At first, we thought the steady stream of hazard lights approaching us was a funeral procession. We later learned, this was common during white out conditions in Big Snow country.

The signs didn’t stop here. Once in Munising, temperatures plummeted. Even the hardcore climbers were talking about how unforgiving a cold, winter day in Munising can be for folks heading out. Rather than wimp out, I just put on another pair of pants. There was of course the embarrassing gear check-out moment where I had to point out that my supersized ass would not in fact fit in the harness designed for the normal climbers body type. After several attempts and a lot of wriggling around, I was told I was equipped with straps that’d withstand me falling from a cliff.

And then there was the trek -in. Did I mention there would be an uphill climb in a snowy, ice-covered trail full of steep ledges? Or, that I wasn’t aware of said trail and had an extremely top heavy backpack on me that was packed with shoes (yes plural), coffee, snacks, extra clothes, 3 cameras and other miscellaneous outdoor gear.

This is what was below us when we climbed. Lots and lots of hill.
This is what was below us when we climbed. Lots and lots of hill.

The first time I fell over on an uphill incline, I questioned whether I’d get up. Like a turtle straddled on its back, I somehow waddled my way up the hill. There was of-course the embarrassing and somewhat frustrating attempt to secure my crampons while sporting 4 layers of clothing. But somehow, despite all of these signs, I soon found myself at the base of a 40-foot cliff with only one way to go—up.

We were handed some pick axes and given some basic instruction on how to ice climb. It seemed as though the ice hated me. If I swung hard, the ice shattered. If I swung delicately like our instructor, the pick ax ricocheted back at me, threatening to take my eyes out. This didn’t seem promising. But again, I ignored the signs.

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One of our instructors giving us some tips on how to climb. That is what it looks like to get to the top. This was not me.

My girlfriend and I were in an intro teaser course. Our instructors were awesome. One was from Salt Lake and a rep for Black Diamond. The other, a world cup ranked speed climber. (Yes, that’s a real sport and she is an amazing athlete). They made climbing look so easy. They provided serious encouragement and didn’t scoff as I fumbled about like an idiot.

Given the time limitations of our course, we only got two chances to climb. And, despite the our class title has intro in it, most of the guys in our class had climbed before. The gals, while less experienced, were primarily rock climbers. I am neither. We lined up like little soldiers, each taking our turn at the base. When it was finally my turn, I clipped myself to the rope and climbed. And fell. And climbed. And fell. Even though I knew that each time I slipped off the icy rock or my pick ax gave way, I wouldn’t in-fact plummet to my death, my survival instinct screamed what the F**** do you think you are doing? I managed to ignore that voice and kept trying. Progress was slow but progress just the same.

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This is me early on. It did not get better as time progressed.

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Did I make it to the top? Absolutely not. Did others? Absolutely. But, I’d be willing to bet our experiences were equally as scary, exhilarating and frankly fun. There I said it. Despite all of these signs and obstacles, ice climbing is a pretty big high. If given the opportunity, I definitely would have kept trying to get to the top. And, knowing the stubborn Fin in me, I would have at some point made it. In hindsight, I wish I had taken two days of classes so that the second go around I’d maybe experience more success. Who knows, I might even go back next year. It is unlikely the weather or road conditions could be any worse.

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After my climb. Did I mention it was cold out there?

For everyone curious to know how high I went… I honestly don’t know. The Go Pro was stopped about 10 seconds into my first climb and I later realized I had nobody take shots on my second climb. I don’t want to pull a Paul Ryan on his half-marathon time or a angler’s tale of the big fish by exaggerating my climb, so suffice is to say, let’s just say I went high enough. The second time, I climbed even higher. But, by far the hardest part of the climb was getting to the base.

Crampon Casualty 2016.
Crampon Casualty 2016.

And, I’m just happy that in total, the only real casualty of the day was my snow pant leg that got shredded by my crampons when I tripped attempting to pose for a group photo.

That evening, I had the opportunity to listen to keynote speaker Tim Emmett. An athlete for Mountain Hardware, he redefines adventure. I loved his presentation and the photos and videos to accompany it were spectacular. In his presentation, he mentions that life is what we do before we die. It sounds stupid but it is so true. So much of life is about the unknown day-to-day stumbling we make trying to navigate this thing called life.

Afterwards, Aaron Peterson premiered The Michigan Ice Film. It was an enduring combination of extreme ice climbing and the people and culture known as the UP. Peterson did an awesome job intertwining the two to create a solid story line amongst a backdrop that only Michigan ice can provide. Two thumbs up for sure.

At the end of the day, I loved my experience at the Michigan Ice Fest not because I was good at ice climbing, discovered a hidden talent or because it changed my life. Instead, I love that this festival and instructors opened my eyes up to the fact that I can in fact climb, even though every sign along the way said I couldn’t.

Future ice climber in the making! Watch-out Michigan Ice Festival 2025...
Future ice climber in the making! Watch-out Michigan Ice Festival 2025…

Early Morning Resolution

Happy New Year! How are those resolutions treating you? I’d just like to go on record right now saying mine are slowly killing my will to live. Fourteen days ago, I started on a quest to factor me-time into everyday of my life to focus on wellness. My solution—wake up by 5:30 am everyday so that it wouldn’t cut into family, mommy, wife, friend or work time. On the flip side, the time once known as end of the day veg in front of Bravo time would go if needed due to being tired.

Let me backtrack one second and preface this resolution by telling you I am NOT a morning person. I cherish my sleep. I do best during regular business hours. The idea that I’d get up an hour early just to ensure I had enough time to hit the treadmill, lift weights, stretch or journal seemed a bit preposterous. But, last fall I started reading a lot by Brene Brown and this notion of creating habits to the point where the norm or your daily habit just is something you do versus something you think about. This theory resonated with me. After all, given how much I value sleep, I question whether I’d really get up early enough everyday to shower if it wasn’t something that had become part of my daily grooming routine.

In the past two weeks, I’ve hit the treadmill 8 times, completed yoga and cardio twice, completed a journal post and what I’m calling meditating once. To others, it may have appeared to seem like me staring at the wall in a zombie like stupor because I had stayed up too late the night before watching the Bachelorette but that’s neither here nor there. This mindful staring took place at 5:40 am. Today was the first time I missed my wellness time because I had an early morning work meeting. Surprisingly, I felt out of whack all day. And this excites me for a variety of reasons. If after a mere 12 days, not working on me in the morning seems unusual, imagine what will happen if I make it another week. Or, better yet, another month? I’m quite excited about the new found potential of this New Year’s Resolution.

Ultimately, I’d love for several things to happen with this experiment. First off, in 15 weeks from tomorrow, I’d love to finish the Journey’s Half-Marathon in Eagle River in under 3-hours. Second, in coming months I’d love to utilize some of this time to have a garden that doesn’t look like a Black Thumb Bomb was initiated within it. Finally, I’d love to write my way into closure on some lingering issues I need to just document on paper for my well-being and ability to live a more present and grateful life. Note, the goal here is to not lose weight. Obviously, this is another issue I come face-to-face with on a daily basis. But, I’m hoping that this experiment will help me understand how to form better habits when it comes to food. In other words, running my fastest half-marathon and creating a beautiful garden out of a pile of sand seemed easier in my mind than practicing portion control.

I share all of this with you just because I know by sharing this, I’ll likely continue on this journey. Or, at least that’s been the case with announcing blindly 5-years ago that I was going to run a half-marathon. If it hadn’t been for my very naïve public statement that I would do that, well I’m sure I wouldn’t have finished my first race and therefore never had the next five. So there you have it. A new year, a different me. We’ll see how that goes.

One last note…if you have 30-seconds, watch this ad. Then resume reading this post. (dramatic pause here).

In the grand scheme of things, this ad is a large online booking company trying to differentiate itself. I’m generally not a sucker for this type of marketing. But this ad, well it played on my first morning on my first day of getting up early. Before the tiger even came out, I was bawling on the treadmill. This might have been because of the early hour. But, I’d also like to believe that maybe, just maybe, this stupid commercial hit a heart string that many of my friends can relate too—the overwhelming love, sense of responsibility and desire to be an amazing mother. It sort of accompanies the bucket list of must do vacations with Jake before he’s too old and doesn’t think his mother is cool. This is a serious concern of mine. He already gives dad preferential treatment over me because I wipe his boogers and attempt to give him weekly baths. Anyways, at the end of the day, I think the underlining goal of this year’s resolution is that by finding me time and ways to improve the things that get me down, I can be a better mom. Now that’s something, I can get up at 5:30 am for daily.

 

2015: You Were Sort of an A$$hole

Happy-new-year-2015-quoteI must admit, when midnight strikes I’ll have no problem saying good-bye to 2015. Looking back, I watched it deal out a lot of heartache and pain. At times it was cruel, callous and calculated on harming those I care about. It served up individual setbacks that on the surface seemed minor, but when combined, packed a powerful punch. In short, it was sort of an asshole.

But, the great thing about time is it keeps moving. Tomorrow, a new year starts. While I’ll gladly flip the calendar, I won’t throw out what I learned this past year. Setbacks made me stronger and wiser. They reinforced what matters. They made me grateful for the amazing people I’m lucky enough to surround myself with in this roller coaster called life. And, they made me enjoy all that was wonderful in 2015, that much more.

Looking ahead, I have a laundry list of tasks I hope to accomplish. I want to clear a 3-hour Half-Marathon, build muscle and blast fat. I want to take more photos, kayak, cook, travel, garden and read more. I want to giggle and snuggle with my son while he still thinks I’m cool. I want to experience new adventures with my husband. But most importantly, I want to continue living life on my terms in a place I love. While I doubt I’ll achieve everything on this list, the one thing I know is I’ll make sure I’m having fun trying.

I hope everyone finds peace with the year that was 2015 and finds comfort in knowing there is always tomorrow. There is always a chance to right the wrong, love, learn and grow. There is time for new experiences, laughter and joy. When life doles out lemons, there is comfort in knowing this too shall pass.

To everyone in my life, thank you for sharing this ride with me. It isn’t always easy but you make it worth it!

How Pepe Is Teaching Me A Thing Or Two About Gratitude

pepeLife on Moon Lake tends to embrace the best of rural living and access to city services. My house is heated with natural gas. I can walk to the library, grocery store, pizza place, elementary school and even a winery on a nice Wisconsin day. But, I can enjoy the tranquility of living on a lake surrounded by trees listening to the sounds of whistling loons. It is a life I love. But, it also comes with some unexpected surprises.

Since entering the chaos that comes with parenting, Steve and I have become a little looser on where our compost ends up. Up until now, this flexible composting has resulted in the occasional squirrel, deer and extra birds. But this fall, while enjoying a binge of Scandal, I noticed a pair of piercing eyes pressed against my window. It turns out Pepe had found our stash. At the time, I was safe. But, I also knew that with a 2-year old, dog, three cats and a husband, this was going to be a problem. I gently, but firmly (aka barked orders), asked my husband to euthanize or quietly relocate our newest critter on Moon Lake. My husband found humor in my angst, patted my shoulder and told me it’d be alright.

Over the course of the next month, Pepe’s visits became more aggressive in nature. In addition to interrupting my television show, compost was missing and several successful garbage attempts resulted in a rather disgusting mess in our driveway. Despite this growing aggression from Pepe, my husband still felt it necessary to let Pepe reside and thrive on Moon Lake.

Things came to a climax in mid-October. Steve let Joey out right before we went to bed. There was an altercation. Before I even knew what had happened, Steve ushered Joey into our home in attempts to prevent her from absorbing the smell from Pepe. The only problem – she had been Pepe’s target and was covered with the hideous smell only a skunk can disperse. By the time I could react, our dog had ran wild in our house, rubbing her sprayed fur on carpets, rugs, blankets and my bed. The smell was overwhelming. Even moreso, when my husband casually asked me to confirm if our dog had been sprayed since he couldn’t tell for sure, I seriously questioned the intelligence of the man I love.

Thanks to Google, hydrogen peroxide and baking soda, we were able to salvage much of Joey’s fur (unless she gets wet). After doing 10-12 loads of laundry and breaking our dryer, many of the clothes and blankets were salvaged or destroyed…. With the exception of one. My favorite, plush, micro-fleece blanket that was a wedding gift. I love this blanket. But, despite washing it multiple times, utilizing countless dryer sheets and even leaving it outside to air dry for multiple weeks, every time I go to snuggle into it I catch this lingering whiff of Pepe. I imagine this may be some form of PTSD, but regardless it interrupts my precious sleep patterns.

For the past few weeks, my husband has encouraged me to remove the blanket from my bed. It could go in storage until next spring or permanently retire. But for some reason, I just keep hanging on to it.

As we enter the season of giving, I can’t help but think of the toxic things we love in life that we hold onto even when it is time to let them go. And how sometimes, we focus on them and miss all that is good in our life. Perhaps it is cliché, but last night while snuggling into bed after a weekend of prepping holiday cards, I couldn’t help but think, why? Why can’t I be more grateful for everything I do have and let go of the rest? It seems so simple on paper but seemingly impossible in my life.

A quick google search about practicing gratitude informs me that millions of people have ideas, suggestions and theories on how to be more grateful for what’s in your life. For me, I’m going to start small. If you are still reading this, there is a good chance you play a role in my life. Thank you for that. I don’t need a book or theory to tell me how blessed I am, in part because of the amazing people I’m lucky enough to call family, friends, colleagues or partners.

And, while this sounds silly, tonight when I go home I’m going to remove that lingering smell from my bed. And, as I get ready to enter the craziness that this time of year brings, I’m going to do my best to focus on what matters.

One last note, for my animal lover friends, Pepe lives. Immediately following his Saturday night encounter with Joey, he went into hiding. I’m confident he has not relocated but rather found a safe, secure resting spot somewhere on our property until next spring. My gut says this story is far from over… so for now… to be continued.

Running Towards My Dream

635818006858912368At lunch yesterday, a couple of curious friends casually hinted that I hadn’t posted about the coffee shop lately. I’ve been hesitant to doing so because I’ve found when I put things on this site, they tend to happen. Or in this case, don’t happen. That’s right. The coffee shop is on hold.

I could give an entire laundry list of reasons why—with the largest being a suitable space. There is also the whole regional workforce shortage and inability for me to find work-life balance as well. But the truth is, these roadblocks could be conquered… but only if I was 100% ready to go all in and compromise a bit on my vision for Iron River Coffee.

Over the course of the last year, I spent a lot of time exploring how to make a coffee shop work. I met with a lot of individuals smarter than I and crunched a lot of numbers. I dreamed big about having my own private coffee label and began envisioning my brand. I met with realtors, saved money and read coffee business books. I looked at auction sites and spent a lot of time researching other shops by taste testing drinks and treats and testing wi-fi. I learned a ton. And, I know that someday in my future I will own or invest in a coffee shop.

But someday isn’t today. This fall I spent some time doing the hardest part of business planning—soul searching. And the more I searched, the more I discovered that while there are many reasons I should go into business, there are many reasons I’m just not ready. Sure, some of it is fear of the unknown. Some of it is fear of failure. Some of it is risk tolerance. Some of it is timing. But, even if I push beyond those basic business fears, there was a large part of me that discovered I just don’t want the added stress of a business on my plate right now.

This is tough for me to acknowledge. The old me would have plowed ahead and said well I said I was going to open a business so I’m going to do it… even if I’m not ready and I know the timing isn’t right for me and my family. I know some of you are thinking there will never be a good time for me to do this. But, I can guarantee you there will be a better time for me to do this. And that will be at the moment when my heart says so.

So for now, I’ll continue to jot down menu ideas. Create coffee concoctions at home and set my grill on fire roasting beans from around the world. I’ll visit shops on my travels and allow myself to wonder what if. And someday, what if will become what is. And, when that time comes, I know is it’ll be built on my timeline and achieve my dream of a creative community space where folks can connect while indulging in affordable caffeine.

You might be wondering why a post all about the coffee shop involves a random pic of me running. I’m not sure other than to say, this month I completed my 6th Half-Marathon. It was my best Whistlestop time and I missed a PR by 3-minutes. I didn’t achieve my goal this year. But, I made it halfway. And I’m not done yet. The older I get, the more I’m learning life is about making tough choices. In many ways it would have been easier for me to open a coffee shop and abandon my running goal. I’m pretty confident I’d be a much better business owner than athlete… But, I plan to keep on running.

I’m working on some changes for next spring when I line up again in hopes I can break the 3-hour barrier. Because that my friends, is one dream I’m not willing to put on hold.

Iron River Coffee Anyone?

So a crazy thing happened today that I feel I need to share in hopes to help me pursue my dreams. If you know me at all, you know I’m a coffee addict. You also know that I absolutely love living on Moon Lake. But, for those close to me, you also know that Iron River’s lack of an espresso machine is a personal conundrum I struggle with daily. For the past 5-months, I’ve been doing my due diligence in trying to determine if the rest of the community feels the same. This has involved meeting with regional coffee shops, talking to businesses in-town, crunching numbers, meeting with a distributor, attending a food show, reviewing real-estate in-town and doing some serious soul searching.

All of this had led me to today. As part of this process, I put my ideas on paper and competed in the area’s business idea contest. Today, I got up in front of a room of 50-60 folks from state agencies, local banks, and community members. There were business owners and agency reps from economic development. And, there were other dreamers who believed their idea was worth sharing.

I had 120 seconds to share my vision. I am confident the last time I was this nervous was when I presented my senior thesis at Bemidji State University in 1999. I hate public speaking. But, what was more at stake was whether this group of individuals would embrace my idea. Would they get the need for a community hot spot in Iron River that provides a premium espresso.

I was a babbling fool who was sweating buckets. Keep in mind, the room did not have air conditioning and it was 90+ degrees in Ashland. But, I got up there and put my heart and soul out to the audience. I laid it all out there. And guess what, I didn’t win. I tied for first. But, I did manage to win the audience choice award. This meant a lot to me because it showed that people understood my passion. They shared my passion. And they believed in me.

Call it fate or something crazier, I met the VP of the bank who happens to own the building I’m interested in purchasing in the bathroom. It was a great conversation. Several other conversations with commuters, economic development folks and bankers provided me insight and feedback on how to make this possible. While energized, I’m also overwhelmed. I have a great stable job and a booming freelance career. I’m the mother of a 2-year old with whom I attempt to embrace every moment possible. My husband and I are involved in the community. We’re stretched thin. And, I’m not exactly a trust fund baby. Folks talked a lot today about being fearless. But, as brave as I am, the whole thing has left me clueless. To be honest, I don’t know what comes next.

But I do know that today felt good. It would have felt equally as good if I hadn’t won. I put myself out there. I put my dreams out there. It was scary. It was intimidating. But, I came out realizing that others will support my dream. It was worth every second. Sitting here typing this note, I don’t know if I’ll be a coffee shop owner in 12-months. But, in this moment, it seems a lot more possible than yesterday. And that my friends is something.

I Dig Being Two!

IMG_1285I’m hijacking mom’s blog again in anticipation of my second birthday coming up on Saturday. Things have changed a ton since I last wrote. First, I’m communicating. My vocabulary includes a lot of body parts, food groups and demands. I’ve mastered the words mine, poo and no. And, while I still don’t get it, I have found if I add the word puh-lease to the end of everything, I pretty much get everything I want.

Mom says I’m in the height of terrible 2’s and have a bit of a temper. I’d say I’m more the vocal, independent type that knows what I want and how to get it. It’s the Sisu Fin in me so mom only has herself to thank for that.

I’m also very curious. This past week, I figured out that if I connect my step stool to my play kitchen, I can walk up the stool, use the kitchen as a step and finally gain access to the kitchen counters where there is all kinds of good stuff, including access to all of the food cupboards. Dad busted me and said he wasn’t sure if he should be angry or proud of the fact that I figured that out on my own. What can I say? I’m a natural problem solver.

I am obsessed with water and consider myself very brave. I love jumping off the dock, going for boat rides, dunking my head in the water and rolling around in circles in the tub… all of which makes my parents quite anxious. Seriously, you should see them. They are wound up so tight when I’m playing. They keep saying I’m going to drown, even though I sport a life jacket constantly. A couple weeks ago, I even went tubing at the cabin making me the youngest Probst to enter the world of water sports.

I still enjoy being read to but I’m much more into turning the pages and trying to figure out the names of things on my own. There are just so many words out there for me to learn. I’m not sure if wombat is a must know at two but I’m going with what mom and dad give me to read and soaking it all up like a sponge.

I waited a while to walk. I found crawling to be more effective. But, around Christmas that started to change. Now, I run and jump and walk all day long. I love stairs. Another thing that seemed to stress mom and dad out. Then again, everything seems to stress at least mom out. I love tackling dad. We roughhouse a ton. I frankly love it and dad is a wimp. But, it seems to get me into trouble at daycare sometimes. Turns out tackling dad and tackling infants aren’t the same thing. Go figure. In addition to running around, I love throwing balls and swinging bats. Oh and stroller and wagon rides. Pretty much anything outside where I’m moving is good. I’ve also taken up weeding. Mom taught me that. It doesn’t seem to make much sense since we never seem to be done but it passes time. And, only sometimes mom says what I’m pulling are actually plants versus weeds. Give me a break, I’m two.

I love food. I weigh in at over 32 pounds and have been called sturdy by more than one person. I like my food spicier than mom, although that doesn’t take much. Dad says I’m clearly a carnivore. But, I could live on graham crackers if given the opportunity. For the first few months of eating, I resisted cheese and refused to eat anything with cheese in or on it. It just seemed like such a cliché since I was born in Wisconsin. But, I have learned the errors of my way and now beg for cheese constantly. Joey loves when I get cheese. Especially the shredded kind since at least half of it ends up on the floor for her. She’s sort of a beggar. But I don’t mind. She’s my best bud.

I remain a full-time daycare kid. It works out pretty good. I think mom and dad feel a bit guilty so I’ve been told I’m a bit spoiled at times… But, I frankly wouldn’t want to be with my parents 24/7. They are sort of boring. All of my friends are at daycare, plus they got pet chickens and rabbits and all kinds of cool toys I don’t have at home. Did I mention the chickens? How cool is that? Rumor is I might be getting a chicken pen so I can have one (or more—we’re still negotiating that front) next summer just like mom had when she was growing up.

This past year included quite a few adventures. I went to the Children’s Museum, multiple zoos, countless festivals (mom’s obsessed), swimming in Lake Superior, cabin visits, shopping, the library, lots of restaurants, hiking, my first Big Top show and had my photo taken a ton (literally). I watched mom cross the finish line at several races. I also helped lead off the Blueberry Festival Parade since my dad is town supervisor. Dad forgot to mention it to mom so we were scrambling a bit but I ended up getting to throw bouncy balls. Plus, mom didn’t have time to get me a blueberry costume and dad wouldn’t let her die a diaper bright blue so that’s good. It was bad enough I had to be a ladybug (or as PR mom tried to spin it, Mr. Bug) for Halloween. Can’t wait to see how they will humiliate me this year.

All of that said, it was another good year on Moon Lake. It is hard to believe my age has doubled since I last wrote. I’m still not potty trained but I sleep a solid 11 hours nightly. I love my afternoon naps. The whole play hard, sleep hard seems to suit me well. This past month, my car seat flipped from backwards to forwards. I now see the world whiz by me in a whole different light. I have a hunch a lot of being two will be like this—seeing the world differently. I’m looking forward to it!

Until next time,

Jake from Moon Lake

Lacing Up is Hard to Do

Today marks 12-weeks until my next half-marathon. It is also the kick-off of training for an anticipated 5K in August and a 10-miler run in September. A lot has happened since my last post. Two weeks after the half, I did my first 5k in Stillwater and absolutely loved it. I also learned during that race, I can push myself a lot harder during training. I finished in about 39 minutes. Not bad for my first race, no warm-up and no pacing or understanding of what it takes to run a 5k. The following weekend I completed a 5k obstacle fun run. No timing but a lot of laughing. For the past 4-weeks, I’ve been focused on enjoying summer, cross training (aka mowing the lawn, gardening, swimming with my 22 month old) and watching Scandal. As I watched the calendar turn to July, though, I knew this fun time was over.

This morning I woke up after sleeping soundly for 9.5 hours. Physically, I felt great. My hubby knew I needed to run this morning and was in full support. There would be no excuses or leisurely cups of coffee on the deck contemplating when I should run. Instead, it was go time. Getting dressed, I knew I was in better shape today than I have been in years. I knew just 8 weeks ago I ran a Half-Marathon in my best time ever. Just 5-weeks ago, I completed a 5k doing 13-minute miles. For me, this is impressive. But yet, I still felt that same jolt of discouragement and why bother as I grudgingly put on my shoes.
I don’t know about any other runners out there but for me, lacing up is the hardest part. Once outside jamming to my tunes and breathing in the fresh air, it physically hurts but my mental game improves. Just run to that tree, go past that mailbox, run to that stop box. Everything is so finite on the course—measurements are by steps, minutes and miles. As Nike so eloquently puts it, you just do it. But that’s only half the game.

Lacing up is much more subjective. It is about the why’s and the can I and what ifs. It is the fear of losing a toenail, injuring my knees, damaging my hips, getting attacked by a random rodent or bear. It is the realization that I’m still bigger than I’d like and those cute running outfits just aren’t a possibility right now.
Today, I won. I quickly laced up my shoes, glanced at my medals and bounded out the door. My first 30-minute training session went quickly—in part because I chose the single most humid day this summer to start training and the black flies are in full swing. But, I hit my goal, sweat and made it home before 8 am. It felt great. I pocket this for now knowing I’ll need this encouragement the next time I lace up.

I don’t know if I’ll make it this time. I don’t know what surprises are in store for me the next few months. But for now, I’m committed. The first training is I n the books. And from here, we’ll see what happens.