"Scale The Strat" 2013

Written March 3, 2013, the morning after climbing the steps of the Las Vegas Stratosphere six days after Chicago's John Hancock Building.


Once again I awaken in the city that never sleeps.

The music in my ears: "It's not a cry in the night, It's not someone whose seen the light, It's a cold and broken hallelujah."

The words in my head: "Release yourself from judgement."

The feelings in my body:  Exhaustion, recovery, repairing and preparing to move forward.

The feelings in my head and heart: Deep soul ones and light surface ones, old worn-out ones, and new on-the-cusp-of-discovery-and-adventure ones.

At first, disappointed I let my body retain more weight than I have in quite awhile, thus making it more difficult to navigate the 108 floors of the Stratosphere.

Arriving at the Stratosphere.

However, satisfied that, even with that, I still did it! 

The first five or six floors are a glimpse of what it might feel like with less weight.  For those opening flights, I move fluidly, gliding up the stairs, double-stepping with ease, reaching hand over hand--a perfect blend of pulling myself up and propelling myself forward. One-foot pivots on each landing, hands reaching around to the rail of the next flight simultaneously with the pivot--a rhythmic thing of beauty in the smooth ascent.

Grateful for Jesse's presence supporting my climb, for his quiet guidance, companionship, and his words, "You're doing great Cheryl."

Desiring to move forward quickly, to waste no more time, in  realizing my potential.

Hoping to find my next course of action, to create out of my experience, and, to express what an amazing adventure this has been--a human one, full of wonder and struggle.

Appreciating my own participation in the midst of champions, experiencing a small glimpse into how it feels to do what they do. 

In awe of their camaraderie, their good will, and the love they spread and give to each other.

Glowing from the radiance, the energy, the highest vibrations. 

This event is the first U.S. World Championship tower race.  The best of the best climb.

They know something on a visceral level, having pushed their bodies beyond what mentally seems possible, competing having worked so long and hard toward this day.  They've laid it on the line--on the ascent, in the stairwell.  They come out at the top, first into spent oblivion, then rising back into the room--the tower-top experience of breathing the same air.  Almost magical energy courses through each one...the auras of all this energy overlapping, intermingling, filling the finite spaces and permeating the infinite. 

They look into each other's eyes and see the reflection of their own journey...for a moment, for an hour, for the rest of the day.  They understand connection and awe. They call each other step-brothers and step-sisters.  It's a family.

A family that works together--whether as a Forensic Examiner in Sacramento or an Environmental Scientist in Schaumberg, a Motivational Speaker in Mexico, or a high-rise dweller in New York City, a country road runner in Indiana, or an Investment Analyst in Seattle--they continually work preparing their bodies for this ultimate workout.  This race up towers, beyond what the average person can even comprehend, and they each find a unique path... but bottom line, it's work.

125 mile daily bike rides in Texas, or 90-second highest elevation intensity runs in Washington, or training individuals and groups all day long, every day in Chicago, this family works, many miles apart...together.

The strength, endurance, speed and intensity in this presence of physical preparedness, and in the execution of this race up the Stratosphere (top 10 results between 7:16 and 8:40) is matched with emotional strength, endurance, and intensity--allowed, even demanded by this shared experience, as well as certainly by a massive release of endorphins!

When I first started stairclimbing, I simply wanted to survive the climb to the finish, make it to the top and never quit.

Through nine tower races over a two year period, I did just that.  But with each one, I wanted something more.  Early on I wanted speed, before I was ready. I took off sprinting for 10 floors, then paid the price the remainder of the climb and afterward.  Then I wanted recognition--to be first in my age group. Miraculously I ended up in that #1 position at a race in which the timers lost my time, then found it again.  It was probably an error, because I wasn't really ready for first place yet.  Then I wanted to experience the steepest, most difficult, highest climb--Willis Tower--and I did, with Jesse's non-judgemental support following me all the way to the top.

The second year I wanted to improve all my times.  I climbed with music and without, with splits written on my arm and without, with family and friends waiting at the top and without, in town and out of town, overweight and closer to the right weight.  I improved and learned what to expect, techniques sometimes executed perfectly and sometimes not.

I learned I can climb 90 more floors once I've reached my maximum heart rate.  I can push myself to keep going, though I think I can't.

This year I shaved 2:10 off my time at the Stratosphere, 4:75 off my Hancock time, and 5:14 off my Aon Center time.

Catching my breath, resting at the top of the Stratosphere while talking with Jesse, one by one his step-brothers come over to talk to him. 

One asks Jesse and the others to pose for a picture with him before he has to go catch his plane to NY.  They eagerly join him, shoulder to shoulder, readying for the camera.  I 'm close by, so I quickly move out of picture-range so he can get his shot...when he says, "No, you stay here in the picture too."

I shake my head, moving further out of range, and yet he insists I join them.  So I do.

I experience a brief moment with this family of competitive stair racers, I'll always remember.  There I stand with four stairclimbing warriors, sharing the incredible energy, ever learning a little bit more about love and joy's infinite capacity.

Cheryl, Jesse, David, Steve, David

Hustle Up The Hancock 2013

Sunday, February 24, at the John Hancock Building, more specifically in the stairwell of the 94-floor tower, I learned something.

For the first time in this two-year journey, on my ninth stair climbing event, I experience the elation of actually pacing myself to meet a specific time goal! 

While my original goal when I started to climb, was to be first in my age group, I've come to realize that usually the women who take those titles are leaders in fitness, or have been athletes for many years.  Four years ago I walked into the gym for the first time ever, at age fifty-seven. 

Finally, I learned...
I'm working my way through this learning process,
and, it doesn't happen overnight...

...but, I can do this.


I break the climb in half, with my goal to reach the top in 37 minutes.  Half way, I should be at 18.5 minutes.  I choose the first three songs for my stair-climbing playlist to total almost 19 minutes.  Next, I time three more songs for the second half, to get me to the top in 37 minutes.

I develop a steady pace for each step.  Completely steady, if I am climbing at the correct speed, this will work.  As a musician, if there is one thing I can do, it's keep a steady beat.  However, there is no conductor or metronome in the stairwell setting the tempo.

By floor 8, I'm already breathing hard, in spite of my slow, steady pace.  But I'm encouraged by having a plan.

Numerous people pass me.  As I approach the first water station at floor 16, I notice a forty-something marathon runner I talked to before the race, standing there drinking.  It's his first stair climb.  He passed me early on.  My foot hits the landing, pivoting around to the next flight with my slow, metronome-like pace, passing Mr. Marathon Man as he stands panting and drinking on the landing which is now behind me.

Climbers can reach their maximum heart rate by the fifth floor.  All climbers reach it by the tenth.  From that point on, one must continue at that heart rate, body looking for relief in different ways, and, if you go on, not finding it.

"...within 60 seconds of [starting] the stair climb you are at your maximum heart rate and your breathing is very labored,” Schramm says. “If you’re a runner, you can ease into it or you can get your heart rate down and keep that pace going for however many miles you want to do. But with this, you’re at maximum heart rate and there’s nothing you can really do about it except stop. As long as you keep climbing the stairs your heart rate’s going to stay right there.”*

You climb, knowing it's going to be like this for 80 or 90 more floors, only becoming more and more uncomfortable with each floor.

I need a drink as another water station is coming up around floor 33.  Ok, just a quick stop and a quick drink.  They hand me a bottle--Yikes!  Precious time lost screwing the top off.  I take it and let a few sips fill my parched mouth before taking off again.

I realize my IPod is playing the song that's supposed to take me to floor 42.  Can I make it in time?  The water stop was too quick to catch my breath at all, and I'm parched again already.  And, why is it suddenly taking three or four flights to reach the next floor?  I try to think of something positive, but come up blank.  Can only lift one foot and then the other, take one breath and then the next.  I finally reach floor 40.

The song is winding down--almost over.  Two more floors--four more flights...unless the building throws another three or four-flight floor at me.  Hope not.

The song is at the end. I keep climbing, hoping the last note lingers.  Just as the song goes silent, my left foot comes down on the landing of the 42nd floor! I did it!  Oh. My. Goodness.  I'm timing the pace of this climb perfectly, and I'm sticking to it.

What a boost, as this smile of achievement spreads across my red, sweaty-struggling-to-breath face.  Even though I want to stop at the next water station, this new feeling helps me pass it by, to keep my pace going.

It's sinking in now, I have another half of the tower to go.  Thoughts questioning my Math arise.  What if floor 42 wasn't half way?  What's half of 94 anyway?  Pretty sure two times 42 is 84!  So, it's not 42?  I may have been an Honors Math student, but something this elementary is too much now.  Can't remember why I thought 42 was half way.  Was it Stan's diagram? Did Jesse tell me the bottom half is more challenging in this building? Or, did I just get mixed up?  Do I have to go faster?  Or not? ...on this second half.

I keep stepping, relying on my subconscious to choose the pace and carry out this repetitive task I know it loves--like keeping my heart beating.  Counting on it to take me to the top in the 37 minutes I told it to.

My IPod is silent!  What happened?  I reach down to push the arrow for the next song.  Will this throw everything off?  Doubting I can do this.  In the 70's now...the worst...so far from 94...but so exhausted. 

Joe Cocker starts to sing, "I Get High With A Little Help From My Friends, " and I know how I'll make it!

I remember the words of encouragement and support I've received and begin to name my friends and family with each step.  They're with me in the stairwell at this hardest part--Carisse, Faith, Leslie, Gayle, Marge, Justine, Carol...and many more...Lois, Peg, Norma, Jackie...I get high with a little help from my friends.  One floor after another.  I think of Kristin and double-step a few flights as if she is here with me like at the Aon Center last month.  I remember David Haley, who tried to gently tell me that shaving 5 minutes off my time, might be too ambitious.  So, for another two floors, I climb saying, "David Hanley," on each step--determined to finish on time so I can tell him I did it!

Floor 84, only ten more to go.  Yes!

Not even aware of my IPod, just 10 more floors, nine more...and are these flights getting shorter?  What's done is done.  Five more and the song that's supposed to take me to the end is playing now.  Can it last five more floors?  Can I last five more floors?

I quicken my pace.  Yes, going faster now than the whole climb so far...

The song is ending.
One floor away.
The last note is playing.

Will it hold on?
Long enough?

Silence.

I run up the last flight,

out into the observatory's sunny blue Chicago sky,

 

into the joy

of my family and friends,

 

into the relief

 

of no more climbing.

 

 

  

 

 

~~~~

 

Early Sunday morning I wrote the time I wanted to be half way, and the time I wanted to finish, on my arm next to the songs which would end at exactly those times.

 

A few hours after the climb, I discover my official time is  37:31 --

I'm on cloud nine!

 

Later, while relaxing and posting photos on Facebook, I look down at my arm.  My goal was to climb the John Hancock Building in 37 minutes.  Reading the numbers on my arm, I consciously realize for the first time, that the finish time for the last song--the time I'd written to be at the top--was actually  37:27 !

 

My subconscious took me to the top

in 37:31 --pretty darn close.

 

 

 

Also, I shaved 4:75 off last year's Hancock time.

 

 

I can do this.

 

 

 

 

 

 

*Above quote from following article:

http://www.lasvegasweekly.com/news/2013/feb/26/scale-strat-climbers-its-1455-stairs/

 

P.S.  The first one to name all the correct titles with artists, of my playlist songs based on the one-word descriptions I wrote on my hand for the climb, I'll send you a Chicago treat!

 

Aon Center "Step Up For Kids" Tower Race

January 27, 2013
Climbing 80 Floors

Arriving Sunday at 8:45, for a 9:45 a.m. start-time, we navigate the Aon Center's oddly designed underground parking fairly easily, having beat the crowd.

Same with the lines waiting to climb.  Over 2,000 climbers ready to enter one stairwell, all on the same morning, requires extreme organization.  The people involved in putting on the Aon climb are very friendly.  However, it is one of the least organized starting experiences.  I approach the line at 9:05. No one checks my start time.  

Realizing I forgot my stopwatch, I add this to the list of reasons I don't feel prepared. Glancing at the clock--9:16--I enter the stairwell.
 
At first climbing is easy. Energy abounds...I happily tick off the flights.

By the 8th floor I start wondering if they will have a water station at floor 10 like last year. 
 
10, no water station...fooled me, it's on 11...and then again on twenty-one, thirty-one, forty-one and so on.
 
I dedicate the first thirty floors to my husband today. He is always supportive, no matter what venture I'm on. He waits for me on the main level, my paraphernalia in hand, not knowing how long the wait will be, but patient nevertheless.  My foundation.
 
On floor 40, I long for water. Breathing heavily. Heart racing.
On 41, stopping to take a drink,
I long for this to be over.
 
Not an option. I've decided to do this.
Thinking I don't want to drop the water cup in the barrel and return to the stairs, I suddenly remember my plan for floors 30 - 50.  
 
I begin climbing again, this time thinking of Fern Garcia--my friend's mother who passed away last week. I told myself I'd climb floors 30 to 50 in her honor. She struggled physically in the last years of her life, but her legacy is one of strength, character, persistence, consistency, adventure, and love. She did not dwell on the negative.  Her spirit is a feisty one.  I honor her and think of her, hoping to borrow some of her "feisty-ness" to get up these stairs.
 
Lost in my little stairwell world, wondering how to turn a feeling of suffering into something positive, grasping at thoughts to distract...all of a sudden I see Kristin Frey double-stepping her way up from the flight below.
 
Like a breath of fresh air, in this has-to-be 95 degree stairwell, seeing her I smile and call out, "Hi Kristin!"  She comes up beside me and asks if she can climb with me for awhile. 

Of  course I say yes, but understand that I climb far too slowly for her--she's ranked the number two woman stair climber in the world!  She has won every single tower in Chicago, and more.  Not only does she climb faster than almost every other women, but also faster than most of the men.  She climbed earlier and won the women's division with a time of 10:49  Now she's just climbing again for fun.

Slowing down her double-step next to me, Kristin tries to match my slow single-step timing.  We talk for a couple flights and then I feel inspired to say, "Ok Kristin, I'm going to double-step with you for a couple flights now," ...and I do! 

I go from wanting this to be over, to double-stepping. It feels really good. 

The few moments of being in sync with Kristin are thrilling.  After a few floors double-stepping, I know it's time to bid her farewell as I slow back down to my do-able single-step, still pulling myself up by the rail on each laborious step.  Just as she appeared, she disappears up the stairwell.  I hear her for a flight or two as she encourages climbers she meets on her way.

Before I can get discouraged again, somewhere in the floors between 50 and 60, I see another friendly face approaching from the flight below...David Hanley!  Also climbing the 80 floors a second time just for fun, David is another elite climber I respect so highly, and a very friendly support through my climbing journey.  We get to talk and climb a bit together too.  Before moving on, he pauses on a landing just ahead, turns around and snaps my picture.  We're facebook friends...both understanding that all important photo-op.  How fun is it to be snapped at this juncture!

Thanks Fern, for sending Kristin and David my way.

I return to my solitary vigil in this heat-box stairwell and remember my daughter in-law, Rachel. I told her I would climb floors 50 - 80 in her honor today, because they require the most effort and dedication in order to reach my goal.  I admire her effort and dedication in going after her dream in life, no matter what the obstacles, no matter how difficult the course, no matter what it takes.  She, time and time again, re-dedicates herself to her pursuit. Monday morning she will take a difficult test-- one more hurdle to jump on her road to becoming a doctor. 

I find myself on floors 65, 66, 67...gutting it out, thinking, "Rachel can do it. She can do it." Over and over, I think, "She can do it!" 

My wishes for her are in sync with my need to borrow the effort and dedication from her, on these steps, so that I can do it.

I've been counting down the floors, saying nineteen, nineteen, nineteen up to the next floor, then eighteen, seventeen, sixteen...getting mixed up over and over, but knowing I'm almost there.  By floor 75, I actually find some kind of strength to quicken my pace...

Walking out into the open room full of people on floor 80, I have one thought--find the elevator quickly and hope that by not stopping, I won't throw up!  Not even a moment to remember to pick up my medal...just keep moving...

...down 80 floors, the elevator door opens, we're ushered around the hallways, ending up back behind the starting clock.

I glance up at the time...

 

It appears that I beat my time from last year.

Later in the afternoon, I discover...
I officially beat last year's time by 5 minutes and 14 seconds.

I'll take it.

As a good friend recommended after hearing this story, I'll do much more than take it. 

I'm celebrating and appreciating my body for the effort it put out
and the work it got done on that stairwell.

And...
I'm riding this energy into my training for the "Hustle Up The Hancock" climb on Feb. 24!

After the climb.

 

A Decision

AON Step Up For Kids 2013

"Why do you put this pressure on yourself?" a friend asks on the phone recently.

First, she and I do not experience difficult challenges as a part of our daily routine.  Certainly, from time to time we are presented with challenges, but not usually physical ones.

Second, I have no history of athletic activity, and frankly, I battle overeating on a daily basis.

Third, I've chosen this challenge of stair climbing gladly, and with both eyes open to its rigors. However this does not mean I don't succumb to fears during my preparation, particularly the closer I get to the event.

Thus her question, why do I put this pressure on myself?

This morning I made a list of reasons why I could choose not to participate in the climb up 80 flights at Chicago's AON building. They range from not losing any weight in the last three months, to knowing I haven't put in enough time on the stairs. In order to avoid a downward spiral of self-judgement, I create the following:

I'm Prepared to do what is best for me, even if it means not participating.
I'm Energized at the possibility of not climbing, in that it seems like I will enjoy relaxing instead.
I'm At peace with the possible decision not to climb.
I'm Confident I'll be ready to climb the John Hancock's 94 floors on Feb. 27th.
I'm Enjoying knowing I'm capable of making this hard choice.

Thumbing through previous entries in my New Year journal, I first note a slogan from a poster--

"Every Achievement Starts With Deciding To Try!"

 

Then on January 11th:
Somewhere in 2012 I started to lose the fever for stair climbing, as often happens with my various 'fevers'. I feel some of it returning and need to crank it up. It seems like my moves toward the fitness level I need for these events is minuscule compared to the gargantuan moves I need to make.

January 12th:
The frontier still waiting for me, is learning how far I can push my body. I felt it a little on the Willis Tower, 103 flight climb, the tallest yet for me. Somewhere in the 70 or 80-something flights, I hit a wall where I had to talk myself into continuing. I actually thought the sentences, "This is where I have the opportunity to push myself. This is my opportunity...one I don't get on any other day."
By the 85th floor it seems I cannot go on. Why would anyone even want to go on? But, I've chosen to participate in these climbs because they affirm the best in me. At that point I have no inclination or desire to quit. Quitting isn't even in the realm of possibility...and thus, the affirmation of my spirit, who I am--I am someone who is strong in mind and body, determined to a point where absolutely no circumstance, feeling, or any other person can make me quit...not going to happen because I chose to do this. Everything about these climbs is a symbol of my autonomy, my thought processes, my desires...this is who I am. In that moment, on those stairs, it's only me. No one there to judge, no one there to doubt or affirm, no one there to deny...it's only me. I revel in having made the decision to do this, revel in deciding I can go on, no matter what. This indeed is my opportunity to push through, to be more of who I am...to the top, to the success, to the completion, on my own...and I keep climbing.

January 21st:
Thinking through the AON climb ahead...breathe, reach, this is where I get to stretch, to know what is possible, to prove my strength, to push my limits--my self-imposed limits--to break through them, let my body lead my soul and mind in this space, this stairwell, this vertical tunnel of learning and support, of energy and satisfaction, of endurance and knowing--this is my opportunity...

...as sure as I followed my instincts to Colorado and California in 1973 in my Volkswagen bug, as sure as I followed my instincts to Harlem to marry in 1975, as sure as I tried this and tried that because I am a searcher, as sure as I trusted this and trusted that, then trusted nothing and no one, as sure as I know I am a creator, I know this is my chance...I get to do this, I will do this.

After reading these entries, the words save me--make my decision for me.

Off with the fears!

I am who I am.

I...am...climbing.

Prepared
Energized
At peace
Confident
Excited

"Every Achievement Starts With Deciding To Try!"

 

Photos taken after the AON climb January 2012,
with Jesse.  This was my first full climb ever. 
My goal this year is to beat last year's time.

 

SkyRise Chicago, Willis Tower 2012

Photo taken after the race this morning.

One only has those first few minutes after a race, in which it's appropriate to wear your participant medal, so after leaving Willis Tower, I proudly march into Anne Sather's Sunday morning crowd, so adorned.

There is nothing poetic about actually climbing the steps of one hundred and three floors.  This is my thought as I ravenously (as in greedy for gratification and protein) devour an avocado wrap and cottage cheese for breakfast.

I express this observation to my husband and daughter sitting across from me and my shiny gold medal draped around my neck. 

I also wonder, "What can I possibly write in a blog about my experience?"  It was step after step, flight after flight, floor after floor, yes, again and again, the same...struggle, over and over.  At least that's the case from about floor 13 or 14 on.  The first few floors always feel great.  They move right along, I breath normally-- just another day walking up some steps.

By floor 25, I hit the wall my mind builds, which says, if I don't stop to catch my breath, I can't go on.  I indulge, but ever so briefly.  And thus begins my pattern.

Today holds a new variable.

 

 

While standing in line to begin the race, who pops up by my side but Jesse, my trainer. He ran at 7:00 a.m. with the elites.  I ask how he did, and in his humble way he answers, "Good, but not great."  I find out later that he won the race by climbing the 2,109 steps in 13:59! Very impressive. 

I begin to realize what his presence in line means--he's going to go up again, with me. I worked hard this last week, to put aside my fears and negative thoughts about the  climb, so I try not to think, "Oh no, my trainer will be with me, what if I go too slow? Will I be embarrassed? What am I going to do?" and instead tell myself, the reality is that Jesse wants to help.  He wants to support me. A couple deep breaths later, we cross the start line.

I'm proud of my pace for the first half of the race.  For where I am right now, it is just fine.  I also know that it feels like I've given everything I have, and it's only Floor 52. 

I have to do it again, ...another 51 floors. 

This time I take a little longer break, and thus begins my pattern for the second half.

What am I thinking in the final challenges?  Not even sure.  I'm not holding onto completely cohesive intentions and plans in those moments.  However, one complete and very cohesive factor is Jesse next to me in the stairwell.  I wonder what he's thinking.  I wonder how it must feel for him to take the stairs so very slowly compared to his running speed. 

Also, because he's there, I make sure if I do stop, that it's absolutely necessary.  I make sure I get going again as quickly as possible.  I keep moving even though arms and legs are saying, "No," and nausea is ever-present.  The non-poetic for sure.

Jesse's decision to be there, lets me know I'm ok. I can do this, no matter what.

He didn't say those things. Didn't have to. I was there with all my vulnerabilities, my age, my history, my dreams, the work that I've put in, the work I haven't, and my determination.

Now that it's over, I see more than my struggle on each step. 
Whether I thought I wanted it or not, whether I thought I needed or deserved it or not, I experienced true support, offered without judgement.

Perhaps poetic after all.


P.S.  When I finally looked up my time, I was pleasantly surprised to find myself in the middle of the pack of women in the 60 - 69 age group. The winner in my group climbed 103 floors in 27:49,  I finished in the middle of the group with 53:32.  The times went all the way up to one and a half, two and a half, and three and a half hours.

For fun I counted how many women I beat in the different age groups. 
I was faster than 32 others in the 50 - 59 group,
faster than 37 others in the 40 - 49 group,
faster than 51 women in the 30 - 39 ,
and faster than 35 women in the 20 - 29 age group. 

Next time, hopefully I won't have to do this silly calculating...instead I will simply report on a great improvement in my own time!

Minutes after reaching the top.

Seconds after finishing.

P.E.A.C.E.

The clouds finally parted this morning and now I can see all the way to the top of the Willis Tower.

Recently my sky was overcast with self-judgement.  For every day I cleared away the negativity, another day appeared laced with it.  For each moment I affirmed the positive way forward, another moment of fear crept in.  I used all my tools to escape this spiral, but they weren't strong enough to wipe away the disappointment.  The accusatory tape in my head played like a broken record --You aren't where you wanted to be by now. You were supposed to lose more weight. You can't do what you wanted to do. -- over and over.

Finally, after two sleepless nights, the spring is back in my step!  Basically in a hypnagogic state (the transitional stage between wakefulness and sleep) I used these nights to repeat affirmations and visualize my climb.  Affirming with, "I'm Prepared, I'm Energized, I'm At Peace, I'm Confident, I'm Excited about life," repeating until I lost track.  Visualizing the morning of the climb, the rush and excitement, one step after another reaching up, counting ten steps and turning on the landing for the second flight of ten, twenty for each floor, counting, moving from my core, breathing easily, every ten floors feeling a new burst of energy...on and on into the night I imagined. 

Yesterday I contemplated giving up my spot to someone else.  In moments of weakness, I really wanted to do just that.  In the end, I could not.

My friend Scott, encouraged me by relating how many millions of people could not climb this tower (he estimated 285 million Americans), Jackie cheered me on saying how great it will feel simply reaching the top floor, walking out onto the observation deck -- getting to the top no matter how long it takes.  Jesse advised it will be excellent training for future climbs this winter.  Peg always tells me I inspire her. Harold and Melinda comment, "You notice we're not climbing 2,109 steps this weekend!  It's amazing you're just doing it!"

Kathy reminded me of the blog entry where I shared how five or six years ago I could barely dress in the morning, or straighten up to walk through airports after a flight, or reach for my luggage, and now I don't suffer from any of those problems.  And finally, this morning my Pilates trainer, Corinne, informed me, "You are stronger than you realize!" 

Enough power to turn on the light switch!   It occurred to me in that instant,  I am stronger than I realize, because I've been clouded from my own reality by self-judgement from so very many years of past conditioning.

Ok, so I won't necessarily have a fast time on Sunday.  But I looked up the times from last year's 60 - 69 yr. old women participants, observing that their times ranged from 19 minutes and 27 seconds, to 2 hours, 5 minutes and 28 seconds.  I'll fall in the middle.

My trainer, Jesse, also shared a new way to approach issues when self-judgement is a temptation.  He said to look at the situation as a gift.  Find the gift.
 
I had something major to learn  through this process. I've been given the gift of experiencing all the turns in my road since last May. Down each one of those roads there has been discovery and opportunities for growth.
 
7:30 Sunday morning I'll walk across the starting line toward the stairs, yes, activating the timing chip on my shoe which records how long it takes to get to the 103rd floor of the tallest building in the western hemisphere.  

Walking across that mat also signals the start of my adventure--my time to learn what it is to push myself beyond what I think is possible, my time to persevere, to overcome, and to be filled with joy and exultation at the accomplishment.

Encouragers in this entry, clockwise from top left: 

Jackie/Cheryl, Jesse, Cheryl/Harold/Melinda, Willis Tower, Corinne, Scott, and Kathy/Cheryl/Peg

Karyn's on Green --Review and Family Birthday Celebration

Contemporary. Stylish. Vegan. With delicious food and a vibrant bar scene, Karyn’s on Green is making vegan sexy in the midst of Chicago’s traditional Greektown neighborhood. Serving lunch, dinner and drinks in an atmosphere so chic you’ll forget it’s good for you… and the planet.  http://www.karynsongreen.com/

 

On my birthday Saturday, we visit Chicago's Karyn's on Green for the first time.

 

I like it the moment we walk in the door.  The background music could be one of Harold's playlists, and the dimly-lit large open room is very inviting.  The staff is friendly and helpful-- the best service I have experienced in a restaurant in a long time.  Since we are exploring transitioning to a vegan diet, we still have a lot of questions.  Our server goes out of her way to listen, explain, and also accommodate Harold's nut allergy, which is definitely more of a minefield in a vegan restaurant.  

 

To begin,  I choose the "Black Thai Affair"--Hendricks Gin, muddled blackberries, fresh Thai basil, fresh lemonade and Prosecco--cool, refreshing, bright start to the meal.  Harold has a Manhattan with a full-bodied bourbon, made and aged in-house. Ever since, he talks about how great that drink was and how he'd love to have it again some day with a cigar!

 

I choose the Prix Fixe menu in my attempt to be brave and try selections way outside my comfort zone.  The results, for me, are irregular.  For the first course, I have to call on my inner-mother's voice as it tells me to finish what is on my plate.  I'm able to eat it, but though I like mushrooms, I am not a fan of the squid-like wild mushrooms, really dislike the huckleberries, and never figure out what the roasted salsify is. 

 

Harold creatively selects  a "side" since all the appetizers have nuts in them.  His first course turns out to be my favorite bites of the evening, "Quinoa Hush Puppies."  I don't even like regular hush puppies, but these little meatball look-alikes have the lightest, most crisp outer shell, surrounding the most satisfying inner goodness--almost like a poppy seed muffin inside, but not as sweet--just right!

 

My second course far out-ranks my first.  The special black bean soup of the day, with cayenne and three little tortilla strips is perfect.  Lots of heat, but equally flavorful.  Harold's butternut squash soup is the creamiest blend of fall flavors.  Throughout the meal, I have to keep reminding myself there is no milk, cream, butter or eggs in anything. No animal products period. We switch soups half way through, delighted with each.

Third course, Rapini salad's Tahini dressing makes me think of a word I learned from the Food Network--umami.  Umami has a mild but lasting aftertaste difficult to describe. It induces salivation and a sensation of furriness on the tongue, stimulating the throat, the roof and the back of the mouth.  However, furriness could be misleading.  I think of it as a very rich, thickly-smooth taste experience.

 

Fourth and main course finds me coveting Harold's selection again.  The few bites of mine that have the apple butter and the sourdough puree are fine, but overall, the cauliflower and brussel sprouts are bitter to the point of distasteful.  Harold's barbecue seitan (a vegetarian wheat "meat") and corn bread stuffing, while unlike any we ever tasted before, are very satisfying. We both look forward to revisiting that combination.

 

Finally, my chocolate torte takes top billing right up there with the hush puppies!  I love chocolate, but not just any old chocolate.  If I'm going to indulge, it must be strong and rich, making an impact that's more than worth the calories.  This torte goes beyond anything I imagined it could be.

 

Arriving home at the end of the evening, puttering around as the meal completely settles in our bodies and our memories, I experience a new feeling.  Not certain I have the right words for it yet. Perhaps it was my imagination, but I found myself saying, "I can't quite put my finger on it, but I sense something different than I usually feel after a meal. As silly as it sounds, I feel cleaner somehow. Ha! I feel good."

 

The mind is a powerful thing!

 

So is more careful, thoughtful, healthy, mindful eating.

  

 

I was fortunate to have two great birthday dinners this year. The first was a culinary discovery.  The second was a family's loving gift, which also included a wonderful culinary experience!

 

Sunday, our grown children who live in the Chicago area prepare a home cooked dinner to celebrate.  These are important times in life...the time when family comes together in appreciation of one another, to share a meal and continue nourishing relationships.

 

When I receive a tornado warning on my cell phone that afternoon, I call Melinda to see if she also received the, "Take Cover Now!" message.  One whole wall of her place is windows and she is already cooking away in her kitchen across from them.  With one look out her fourteenth floor balcony she can see the ominous weather coming from quite a distance.  Minutes later it's on top of her.

 

My youngest, Harold M. and wife Leslie, live out of state.  The rest of us gather at Melinda's place a couple hours later, Matt and Rachel bringing along the food he's prepared.  They also received the tornado warning that afternoon.  I sit watching their final preparations, so grateful for our time together, comfortable inside the darkened windows, peaceful as winds roar on the other side of the glass. 

 

A twenty degree drop in temperature reminds me more than ever that it's October...the month I love the most, for it's colors, the apples and cider, pumpkins and jackets...the month I love the most -- for everyone in our family, all five of us, were born in October. 

 

We talk, we laugh, ask questions, give assurances, and thoroughly enjoy the meal of specially chosen recipes created with love.  I'll savor leftovers the next day, remembering our warm evening together.

 

Final note: 

 

Melinda made a birthday cake from scratch for the occasion...a carrot cake, but of course with no nuts for her dad.  We learn that Harold has lived his whole life without ever tasting carrot cake because of his nut allergy.  He can't believe there are no nuts in the cake--there are always nuts in carrot cake! He gave up eating sugar in February this year.  But Sunday night, for the first time ever, he experiences the warm

yum-i-ness of homemade carrot cake...and loves it! 

 

We have to make exceptions once in awhile.  I think after sixty-one years, he deserves to taste his daughter's carrot cake, sugar or no sugar...and we all join in.  

 

Happy Birthday Family!