A Tale Between Two Cities

It was the best of times, it was the worst of times.

My flight from Calgary to Denver, that is.

I don’t have a great relationship with air travel and why would I? I’ve had flights canceled, been stranded, had a bird hit the windshield of my flight, been detained in the Taliban room and thought I was going to die due to extreme turbulence.

These are not the makings of a loving relationship.

My flight to Calgary was about as smooth-sailing as it could have been flying solo with two young children. I remained cautiously optimistic about my return-flight.

When I arrived two hours early at the airport, I was thrilled to see only a couple of people checking in at United. I did the happy dance and leisurely filled out my Customs form before sauntering to the front of the line.

What I did not realize was one of those people in front of me actually represented the entire Austrian Men’s Ski Team who had been at the Alberta World Cup in Lake Louise. Thirty men proceeded to butt in front of us in line, overwhelming the lone employee.

That was the worst of times.

The best: have you ever seen the Austrian Men’s Ski Hunks Team? ‘Nuff said.

More European teams lined up behind us and this mere mortal waited patiently enjoying the views of the gods.

The kids grew increasingly fussy and another employee finally showed up. “Are there any other teams I can check in?”

That’s when this strawberry-blond mortal threw an Olympic-sized fit, demanding they first take care of the civilians and she obliged. However, the damage was done. The airport was flooded with athletes and Customs and security were extremely backed up. After grabbing a quick bite to eat, we barely made our flight. And who should be on it?

The Austrian Men’s Ski Hunks Team.

This is when it became the best of times again.

They filled our tiny commuter plane to capacity. Hadley was fortunate enough to sit next to one of them.

I kicked her out mid-flight to sit with Bode.

Because that’s what any good mother would do.

I chatted with them about their experience in Canada, how they were on their way to Beaver Creek and about Olympic dreams. The Austrians are ski royalty and many of these men are medal contenders.

My fingers are crossed I’ll be there in person to cheer them on, which I would be thrilled to do.

Just so long as they promise not to monopolize my airport again.

A taste of the bitter-sweet

Returning home to Calgary is always bitter-sweet. I was blessed with a wonderful, magical childhood that every kid in this world deserves but doesn’t always get. Life was never perfect but I had two parents who gave me wings and taught me to never second-guess my dreams.

Well, except for that one time I dreamed I was riding to a desert island in a shark’s mouth.

This last trip to my childhood home was more meaningful than ever.

When I wasn’t busy groveling for votes for the Microsoft Office Winters Games Contest, Hadley, Bode and I spent the majority of our time hanging out with family. We collected pine cones in my parent’s golf cart, took naps, got sick, got better, visited my dear friend Stacey, went to breakfast at glorious Cora’s and played with cousins.


We also took daily walks with my parent’s dogs


and rolled down the gully near my house.

Note: It was my father who instigated that one, not me. Kinda humbling to still get your butt kicked by your 70-year-old dad.

But the true highlight was when we took a trip to Southern Alberta for my niece Ashton’s special day.
I went for several runs, exploring my favorite haunts around my neighborhood, through Fish Creek Provincial Park, and along the swollen Bow River. It was in these places, along these trails, that I first learned to dream, explore and soar.

Those moments were the sweet.

The bitter was dealing with my mother’s rapidly declining health.

Since I originally wrote about her 25-year battle with Multiple Sclerosis, she has become more open about her condition. And accepted it. She has regular debilitating attacks, can no longer drive and relies on my father for most of her day-to-day tasks. They stay abreast on cutting-edge treatments, praying for the day she might be one of the recipients. It is a process that is both hopeful and heart-breaking.

I am glad to be back in Denver. It was a great trip. It was a sobering trip. And I cannot think of a better time to be there than during Thanksgiving so that I could count my many blessings.