four years down, eternity to go. It is crazy to think D & I have already been married for four years--we've basically graduated the high school of marriage! haha. It has been a roller coaster of a ride, but definitely a good one. I was thinking of some highlights and we've pretty much been around the world and back. Literally in traveling, but also moving pretty much every year and in starting up a business. Marriage is definitely no cakewalk--and has been a fine balance all around. Out of all the things I've done consistently, this is probably the most consistent I've worked at something!
It'll be interesting what year five will bring--but here are some highlights...
- Started off marriage driving up the California, Oregon, and Washington coast.
- Took D's parents over to Southeast Asia and had a traditional Chinese Wedding. Then we travelled around to Singapore, Malaysia, and Bali.
- First apartment in downtown SLC (this was a BIG step for D living in the 'city')
- Went to Iceland with our friend Devin
- Decided to start a business, D went to guide training in Washington.
- Moved to Millcreek basement
- I went to Ireland & Scotland with 5 other girls (including 2 sister in law's Co & Jan)
- Decided to name the business Roam, narrowed the focus to bikepacking/human-powered adventure, decided to base operations out of Monticello, launched a crowdfunder
- Had my third and final ankle surgery!
- Moved to Cottonwood Heights with Devin and Tyler as roommates
- Bought a dog--Aldo (Lt. Aldo Raine)
- Left my job at the University of Utah--made the big move to Monticello chasing our dream of owning a human-powered adventure business
- Bought our first house
- Launched Roam in Monticello
- I started working for Monticello City as the Parks & Rec Director (Leslie Knope wannabe)
- Went to England & biking in Wales
- Tons of skiing, biking, and climbing
i've been thinking a lot lately about fear and where it originates for me. many consider me fearless in a conventional sort of way--i climb, mountain bike, ski, participate in what many consider "high risk" activities. my mom still cringes at the thought, more so at the fact that my scarred knuckles and legs aren't very lady-like. i was a lost cause pretty early on regardless of how many dresses or bows were put in my hair.
those closer to me know i am not completely without fear when it comes to these activities, like everyone else i have mental hurtles. one of the most recurring hurtles is going out with other adventurers. i fall into the unfortunate cycle of comparison which at times leads to me sidelining myself from an activity i love. am i going to be as fast as that guy? will i just be holding up the group? more simply put a fear of failure.
i like a quote i recently read, "we aren't competing with other women [or men], ultimately, but with ourselves -- with how we think of ourselves" (Emily V. Gordon). i like this quote because it pointedly states that fear of failure i have is derived from no where/one else then me. the competition within ourselves of comparison is a mental slippery slope that only gets slicker with time. breaking out of the cycle, breaking out of excessive introspective thoughts is key--and normally where reality hits. reality that in the end it all comes down to a common love for being outdoors or whatever other situation. ironically i'm one who falls into this trap when i'm the one who so often is trying to pull friends away from it. the more friends (male or female) i can get out to enjoy the things i love, the greater our circle grows. some of the greatest experiences i have to look back on are from experiences where i've been out of my comfort zone, or where i've been out with friends outside of their comfort zone. some experiences i regret not having are the ones i've missed out from not overcoming a mental hurtle.
we all have hurtles, hopefully too many aren't self-inflicted.
These two men were Ruel Randall, Dustin's grandfather, and Kent Frost, a renowned explorer and recreation advocate in San Juan County, UT. Their backcountry forays are inspirational, they often left with only a single knapsack to roam and live off the land for weeks; true human powered adventure.
I
can recall a time I felt growing pains. I was walking down the hallway in our
house and a sudden pain shot through my leg, in fact I remember crying out that
I had just been shot in the leg with an arrow, a flint tipped Port Orford Cedar
shaft right through my femur. I've recovered from the incident, and have since
grown to the towering height of 5’9 (take that Port Orford Cedar). The point is
we all experience growing pains; in our bodies, relationships, jobs, in
everything. Life.
This last summer I was scouting out a bikepacking route for a group of high adventure scouts. The leaders wanted the boys to be pushed to their limits but still survive, thus avoiding the wrath of the ever-looming matriarchs. It just so happened that summer I found the most opportune subject in my fourteen-year-old nephew. I knew his matriarch, and wasn’t afraid of using him as the guinea pig. I planned out the route knowing what to expect 80% of the time; the 20% of unknown was a bonus and the real test (I thought) for my nephew and his age group.
For those of you not acquainted with bikepacking, simply put it’s taking everything off your back you would use for an overnight backpacking trip and attaching it to a bike. Then ripping down trails, fire roads, and two tracks (oh and the grueling uphill that always comes with the down). It’s a grand time.
Weekend arrived, we kitted out, and set out. The first section of the ride is a well-used quad trail, flowing gradually down hill like a river, and like any proper river has a few rapids. Having navigated it many times I bobbed and weaved through rock gardens and two foot drops. I had the upmost faith in Nat’s skills and knew that she would survive. In hindsight I should have covered my nephew in Go-pro’s, as he took on every rapid and failed miserable but recovered admirably…we missed out on some great crash footage.
The next bit was the unknown to me. It is an old two-track road that has been overgrown for the last umpteen years. The riding has potential, but the encroaching gamble oak reminded me of a scary movie scene that has arms reaching out to rip and tear their victims apart--the gamble oak was not much better. We all received a few slaps to the face, shirts ripped, and it was a gamble (pun intended) to use speed to bust through as an occasional oak arm would grab a fist full of break lever resulting in a bushy endo. In the end it was easier to push through all the grabby, grabby. Gaining a little in elevation we worked our way out of the slap happy forest and entered lush green meadows with knee high grass (a rarity in these parts) it was beautiful--in the kind of way an American GI would view the Guadalcanal or the jungles of Vietnam. Beautiful if you didn’t have to move to get through it. Hiding in the grass were hundreds of downed aspen trees not worth going around. We would dismount and carry the fully loaded bikes over and over. The short distance riding was not worth it, so we became mules and pushed, pulled, and hiked the bikes. It became particular enjoyable as the terrain got steeper and steeper. We did come across some interesting geological features for these parts, such as granite boulders like you would find in Little Cotton Wood canyon. The thought crossed my mind to re-visit the place with some bouldering pads, but the thugs in the slap happy forest pushed that thought aside. I would have to get my “Ash”(see Evil Dead for that reference) on in a serious way to accomplish that mission.
Eventually, we reconnected with a well-used track and enjoyed some deserved down hill time. We then spent the rest of the day and well into the evening burning our legs and lungs out on a consistent six mile climb. That night sitting around the stove on a ridge; huddled in our down jackets, backs to the wind and eyes on the stars I asked my nephew what he thought so far. His response, though pleasing, was surprising; he liked it, said it was harder than he thought it would be. Come to find out this was his first time camping away from a car. He had never spent a night out on a backpacking trip let alone a bike-packing trip. I thought about the activities of the day, especially his additional pain and suffering with all the extra wrecks he endured. Lots of pain, but lots of growth.
Besides a brutal little push up some steep two track the day, and trip, ended with five miles of rushing trail. Once again I lamented the forgotten go-pro to document a young boy's many and mighty wrecks. As expected the rapids didn’t disappoint and my nephew wiser from previous encounters took his time to pick a line and ride them out. He’s only fourteen and has lots of growing to do and with that, lots of pain. We all have growing to do in one-way or another, but that’s how you know your progressing, learning and enjoying life. Get out and feel some growing pains.
Post Sound Track | The Beta Band
Full Set | Growing Pains
Feta Mac
20 min prep | 35 min baking
Ingredients:
- 4 cups macaroni and cellantani pasta mix
- 4 T butter
- 4 T olive oil, plus more to grease dish
- 5 cloves garlic diced
- spinach
- basil
- 1 tomato diced
- 1-2 cups feta
- 3 green onions diced
- bread crumbs
- spices to taste (oregano, cumin, cayenne)
Instructions:
- boil water and cook mac (I like to mix mac with cellantani), when texture you like drain, and run under cold water.
- in same pot on low/med heat add butter, olive oil, and garlic sauté until garlic is tender then add 2 handfuls spinach, pasta, and mix well. add spices (oregano, cumin, cayenne pepper) to taste.
- grease 9x10" glass pyrex with olive oil
- layer:
- pasta mixure
- fresh spinach, basil, tomato, green onion and feta
- past mixture, remaining fresh veggies for garnish, bread crumbs, and feta.
- bake at 400 for 35 min
Life is a series of storms; some lesser, some greater, some devastating, some refreshing--and all in some way beautiful. I have weathered many a storm in the open, far from home and loved ones. And I have journeyed home in anticipation for many more. For me home has always been in the same place; one block from the grocery store; one block from the schools; one block from the pool and park; and right next to my best friend's house. Even after I left home, blazing my own path in the world I would return for comfort and work a few weeks or months at a time. Always saying my good byes and looking forward to my next visit. That’s changed now, in March 2015 Nat and I moved to my childhood home. It’s been two weeks now, I’m not sure what’s going on, Nat is neck deep in community recreation and I have a mustache.
We've become those people...maybe now all we need is a Sube (P.S. is it funny that this is the urban definition for Sube: Someone who is so socially, academically and full-on they cannot even begin to actually understand how anything functions, even their own spastic mind--basically a spaz I feel like this is how my brain functions) besides the point.
Welcome Aldo <the Apache> to the roaming Randall clan. He's a louisiana Catahoula, ironically--maybe not so much, a cattle herding pup. We picked him up in Roosevelt and the whole ride home he was shaking, his favorite this to do was nuzzling into my armpit. Being with us for a few days he's still timid and exploring. All he wants to do is cuddle and sleep--as he grows he's to be a 95 pound bundle of energy and endurance for long hours of roaming.
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