I’ve been writing for a local publication- this young family was fantastic, so fantastic I thought I would share 🙂

“It is not the mountain we conquer, but ourselves,” Sir Edmund Hilary.

It’s not easy to keep up with the Jones’s. In August, Tanner and Tyler Jane Jones will have been married for seven years. “It’s been a busy seven years,” says Tyler Jane. “We are just enjoying where we are right now.”

Tanner and Tyler Jane were high school sweethearts. It was their love of nature and the outdoors that brought them together. They met shooting archery in the Jefferson County 4-H club and have been by each other’s side ever since. Tanner joined the Marine Corps and served our country for four years before being honorably discharged in 2016. Ten days after Tanner left the Marines, he and Tyler Jane were married in Grand Lake.

“My favorite memories always surround us being outside,” says Tanner.

Tanner is a professional rock climber. The love of this sport changed the trajectory of his life and sometimes presented challenges that may have seemed insurmountable. On June 12, 2008, 14-year-old Tanner was climbing in Morrison. It was a hot day, and he was finishing up his last climb when he fell. Tanner suffered a severe fracture to his right leg and was piggybacked down the road. He went on to graduate from Chatfield High School, met Tyler Jane in 4H club and went on to enlist in the United State Marine Corps.

Tanner’s leg never healed properly but he learned to run through the pain when he passed the Marine Corp Physical Fitness test. Some might say the Marines instilled Tanner’s grit and resiliency, I believe it was there all along.

Ongoing surgeries, infections and an intense lack of mobility compelled 27-year-old Tanner to make a life-changing decision. On January 11, 2021, doctors amputated his right leg.

Since that time, Tanner has climbed Cotopaxi, a 19,400-foot volcano in Ecuador with other amputee athletes, and in 2022 he competed in the Para Climbing Nationals and the World Cup for Team USA. Tanner placed 7th in his division, less than a year after he decided to part with his right leg.

It’s a lot of life for a 29-year-old, a life best lead with an amazing partner, Tyler Jane. “In seven years, Tanner was honorably discharged from the Marines, we got married, had two babies, we both lost our moms to cancer, and Tanner went through a life-changing surgery. We’re just enjoying our life as a family right now.”

Life as a family includes two busy young kiddos; Bode (3) and Hadley (8 months). Bode is a busy toddler who climbs on everything, loves playing with his chickens, tractors monster trucks, and trash trucks. Bode has started climbing with his dad. Tanner strategically places gummy bears on handholds to keep Bode motivated. Hadley is a smiley baby who loves her dad and playing in water. We’re pretty sure she’ll join her brother climbing in the next year or two.

The Joneses’ are also raising fur babies. “Cora is our 7-year-old silver lab. She is our first child. We got her one month after we were married. She loves playing fetch, swimming, and eating everything and anything. The kiddos are her walking snack machines. She also enjoys catching a quick snooze in the sun,” says Tanner.

Pancake is the family cat. She is happiest outside chasing squirrels with Bode. The family chickens, Buttercup, Blossom, and Bubbles, complete this family. Buttercup is pretty attached to Bode. In fact, he’s the only one who can hold her. “The rest of us appreciate their eggs.”

Having grown up in Colorado, Tanner and Tyler Jane have many fond memories of this area. In March of 2020, they brought the house that Tyler Jane lived in the first two years of her life. “It’s been fun to bring our babies home to the same nursery that Tyler was brought home to and to make her childhood home our own,” says Tanner.

In December 2021, Tanner graduated with a degree in Recreation Therapy. He now works with the National Sports Center for the Disabled, guiding rock climbing, rafting, and ski programs. He recently started a competition team for individuals with intellectual disabilities in the Front Range.

Tyler Jane works in the health insurance vertical. She recently piloted a project focused on new moms, providing support during their fourth trimester and as they make the transition back to work with a new baby. She is passionate about women’s health and advancing how we as a society support new moms. Before she became a mom herself, Tyler Jane was the 2013-2014 Miss Rodeo Jefferson County. Perhaps that’s why she moves through these changes with ease, this isn’t her first rodeo.

Resiliency, determination, and a deep commitment to each other has grounded Tanner and Tyler Jane through challenging times. Tanner’s surgery has been life-changing. He no longer lives in pain and is able to embrace once again the physical activities that bring him joy. As a gifted rock climber, he is a leader in the para community, helping others find their own passions and push themselves beyond their limits.

“My favorite memories always surround us being outside. One of our most recent memories was rafting with Ty, Bode, and my dad for Father’s Day.”

When not summiting Cotopaxi, competing in the World Cup, or providing support to new moms, the Jones’ can be found throwing the ball for the pup at the park, enjoying the trails at Stanley Lake or catching bugs with Bode; outside, together as a family.

Neighbors of Northwest Arvada extends a sincere thanks to Tanner and Tyler Jane for sharing their story. You are an inspiration to us all; a story of love, hope and a reminder to us all that the climb is part of life; grit, determination and gummy bears lovingly placed on the handhold can make all of the difference.

I once told a coworker I needed to marry a skier.

She told me I was being superficial.

“Marriages are based on more than that.”

We no longer stay in touch. But I did, indeed, marry a skier.

My favorite days with Hubs are on the mountains- it is my happy place, it’s his happy place, and I am so grateful we share this. Mountain vistas and powder are a love language.

We had dreams of bringing little skiers into this world.

We did not bring little skiers into this world.

But we did get nephews……poor little nephews who had absolutely no idea the skier expectations from their aunt and uncle.

And then I realized that teaching kiddos to love skiing is hard. Really hard. It’s filled with early mornings, cold hands, sore feet, hauling gear and thoughts of ‘why are we doing this?’ from both adults and kiddos.

And then they get it, just when everyone is about to give up; the feeling of flying, the magical ‘shoosh’ down the mountain, the cries of ‘whhhhooooopppppeeeee’……and your Auntie heart grows ten times; ten times by ten.

My auntie heart grew ten times this weekend. Our youngest nephew, the one we weren’t quite sure if he would love skiing, fell in love with skiing. Like any love affair, this process was fraught with uncertainty, a little fear and finally, joy.

Some of this may have been my fault.

Youngest Nephew (YN) and I were skiing on Saturday- it was time for lunch and we started making our way back to the house for a sammie. The road back was a blue run aptly named ‘Home Again.’ Another skier told me it was a mellow blue, something we could easily manage.

Pshaw.

The first couple of turns were just fine and we slowly made our way Home….Again. We stopped as the road curved and the slope seemed to disappear, meaning it’s a bit steep. Holy Schmoly, not only was it steep but it twisted sharply to the left; over the curve was the ski area boundary and a significant drop-off.

I may have whispered an F-bomb or two.

The nephews call me Hehe, a nickname I love but when YN whispered, “Hehe, I’m kinda scared.”

I may have whispered another F-bomb.

“Buddy, I get it. But I am not going to let anything happen to you and we are going to get down this.” I told myself to pull it together and placed YN between my skis. I made a giant wedge from hell and we slipped down what was supposed to be ‘a road’.

We got down the first pitch.

“I think I need a rest,” said YN. And so we rested for a bit.

Home Again continued, slip, ski, rest, thank my doctor for a great new knee, kiss my gigantor quads. At one point we sang “You are my Sunshine” which was Samantha’s song, which made me cry, so we rested a little more.

It took us an hour to get Home Again. At the end, the road finally mellowed a bit and YN found this tremendous confidence. He was skiing, stopping, singing, and giggling.
We got to a fork in the road and took a rest. “Buddy, I am so stinkin’ proud of you. That was hard and scary, and you did great, bring it in.”

We exchanged a big bear hug. “Yeah, that was hard but kinda fun. I knew I could do it.”

He skied to the house just in time for Hubs, Popsie and his big brother to see his amazing finish. They cheered as he came to a perfect pizza stop. He casually took his skis off and went inside for a turkey sandwich.

I took my skis off and collapsed in a ski bank. Popsie found me later, “You okay, Hehe?”

We did not do Home Again, again, instead we did laps on a wide, very open blue run until the lift closed. When the slope mellowed, YN would tuck and put his arms behind him. “Whatcha doing, buddy?”

“This is how all the fast skiers ski……..Whoooopppppeeeeee.”

There are moments in life you will remember forever. This was a moment; when YN and I made our way down Home Again.

Ahhhhhhh. Happiest of Valentine’s Day dear tribe!

On this day, I want you to know that I love you.

Truly.

In the words of great 80’s icon Howard Jones, ‘What is love anyway? Does anybody love anybody anyway?”

I say yes, HoJo. Yes.

Inspired by this song, I looked up love in the dictionary.

LOVE:

• A strong affection for another arising out of kinship or personal ties
• Attraction based on sexual desire (easy there Webster)
• Affection based on admiration, benevolence, or common interests
• Warm attachment, enthusiasm or devotion
• To Cherish
• To Thrive

My favorite is to thrive……love….love makes us thrive.

I LOVE spending time with you. I LOVE my community….,,you…..you help me to thrive, to grow, to reach beyond who I am.

Love is a connection.

And what are we without that?

Valentine’s Day promises us chocolates, flowers and fancy bling.

I hope you find more……a hand to hold, a friend to call, a sacred moment to yourself…..a hand written note…..connection.

Happy Valentines Day dear tribe. Much love.

I love New Years.

I love Vision Boards.

I sit on the floor surrounded by old magazines, a pair of scissors, puffy paints, glitter, glue stick and stickers and create a vision for your next year.

I know. Super Cheese. I spent three hours today Vision-Boarding my next 365 days. And according to my vision board, 2023 is going to be amazing.

I say the above with about 50% jest. I do honestly take this time to think about what worked and what didn’t work last year. And although I might not change, I ask myself what I want to focus on in this next year? What can help me get there?  I pull out quotes, memories, reflect and dream.

It’s a lovely ritual- a needed break from the Christmas frenzy.

I always finish the holidays slightly askew.

My life is strewn about like remnants of ribbon and wrapping paper, munching on a green sugar cookie in the shape of a sock, wondering where things went wrong after Halloween.

This is my time to reflect and regroup.

2022.

Recover

For me and my tribe.

From a major surgery- to finishing 2022 in my happiest place, knee deep in powder and pain free.

To our community recovering from a fire that tore through our town

For a friend reeling from an unfathomable loss

Recover.

It takes time to recover. It takes reflection, a focus on healing, an eye on hope. A belief that our worst times will not define us.

Recovery takes our loves raising us on high.

And raising our loves in return.

It took three hours, 8 magazines, and a bottle of glitter glue to pronounce, reveal and reflect on this year and bundle it into some sort of package.

Recover.

Sometimes recover is peppered with platitudes; ‘bounce back’, ‘stronger than ever’, ‘overcome’.

But what if recover is coupled with time, relax, regroup, meditate, lean in, search, listen, embrace imperfection.

2022 taught me a lot. I lift my head above the garland, tinsel, leftover sparkle and greet the New Year with an extended hand

To the opportunity to recover and the gift of another year.

I do love Thanksgiving.

I love hosting Thanksgiving, gathering around a meal, the challenge of a massive bird, a holiday that has only one objective…. dinner….so you better get it right.

My Thanksgiving is never perfect, there is always one dish that goes awry and the meal is always late. This year cooking a 21-pound turkey turned out to be an experiment in heat conduction and a quick dissection/ biology class. The kitchen is still covered in a thin film of turkey, and I think I see whipped cream on the ceiling.

No matter. Dinner was served.

Around mid-October I dove into my Pinterest account to see how whimsical, and Thanksgiving-y I can possibly be. The night before Thanksgiving I am wondering what mid-October Heather was thinking.

I did manage to create this little gem

Behold the tree of gratitude!

It’s kind of like the Festivus Pole- although there was no airing of grievances.

But there may have been a Feats of Strength! I’m still not sure who won the ‘Old Guys vs. Kids’ football game.

After the last piece of pie was served and the turkey was tucked away, I had a chance to read through the Tree of Gratitude- I love what my amazing Turkey Day Tribe was grateful for:

• My Cousins
• Friends and Family
• Family, cats and bread: seriously….I cook a 21 pound bird and bread???? Alas, second graders.
• Bread- Again. Bread- next year I’m setting out a pack of Hawaiian rolls and letting you all go at it.
• Bread, not school
• Heather! Aw……I don’t know who I bribed but the check is in the mail.
• True Friends- and my daughter
• Friends, family and health
• Getting together with everyone
• My body’s ability to move
• Being surrounded by love, great food, being in a beautiful home (aw, thanks) and good health

Bread clearly is the winner- but I think my nephews and their cousins hijacked the tree.

During dinner, I stood up to toast, surrounded by family; Hubs, Mom, Dad, Stepmom, Stepdad, Brother, SIL, Besties……

And I had to take a moment and shed a tear.

We are far from perfection or the family you want to emulate….at times people have looked at us with one word…..oof.

But at that table, surrounded by family, love and (of course) bread……the word gratitude is not enough.

Whatever the word may be, may your holiday be filled with it.

Happy Thanksgiving Dear Tribe.

Hey Dear Tribe:

This weekend finds me at a Writer’s Retreat. Here’s a little something that has been brewing:

The Heart, the fearless worker.

The committed soldier with one job.

Keep it going. Work the pump

From the first sign of life to the very last beat.

The heart carries on.

Steadfast, determined, unthinking, unemotional, the heart.

Contrary to our love and lore, the heart does not get lovesick.

The heart does not break after a torrid affair.

It is not heartfelt, whatever emotion you seek cannot be found in the bottom of your heart; your heart does not desire.

But buried deep within its chambers, encased by bone and cages of rib, deep within the chest, the heart carries on.

Keeper of the blood, mover of life, the heart has one job.

When the brain is sad and tired, pockmarked with trauma and emotion, the heart beats.

For the broken sad mind, the heart is relentless, unshaken by tears, unencumbered by emotion.  

A world may be shattered but a heart carries on.

I had a ridiculously fun weekend. I danced way too much for my poor new knee. I sang loud and off-tune. I gave my nephews sloppy kisses. And I found myself back in the beautiful mountains so close to my home. It was a joyous weekend.

Ridiculous Joy is a funny, lovely, unsustainable thing. Sunday night I iced my knee and tucked myself into bed. Monday morning found me trying to fit back into a schedule with the sweet scent of the weekend still in my head.

Ah- Joy.

I try hard to find joy.

And I must confess, I think lately we as a society look a little harder for joy.

I was talking to a friend today as we discussed the quest for joy.

“I had my life in 2019 and then Covid came along. And I hunkered down and waited for my life to return. And now we are back. But some of the things in 2019 that worked, no longer work. I ironically find that I must reinvent myself yet again.”

Reinventing is fine but it must be recognized and attention must be paid. Where do we find our joy? How do we find our joy? The Rowdy? The Quiet?

As I left for the weekend, I checked the stove again and turned off the water. I locked the door and armed the alarm and I realized that I’m a little more anxious about leaving home.

Home.

Home which had become a safe sanctuary the last couple years. Home- where after 50 years, I found joy in the quiet.

And I left it to embrace the rowdy joy of sloppy kisses and dancing crowds.

Tonight it is quiet other than a very persistent cricket. The sun has set and their is a hint of Fall in the air. The sky is peppered with orange and purple clouds.

Perhaps joy is not fleeting- perhaps it does not have to be rowdy or quiet, it can be both.

Perhaps joy can be found where we take time to recognize it.

This is a great song by the Pixies if you have a chance to listen.

It’s been a while since I have posted.

A new knee and six weeks of rehab since I have posted.

And where is my mind?

It’s better….but I have learned quite a lot about myself along the way.

When you recover from surgery, you spend a lot of time with you. You in a compromised state, you in pain, you not being able to swim, you waking up in the middle of the night, you and your crazy head.

I’ve had surgery. But this surgery has been pretty intense. I told this to my surgeon the other day and he did confess, “well I did take a saw to your leg, didn’t you watch the videos?”

No, no Mr. Surgeon. This would not have happened had I watched the videos.

And six weeks out, I am happy to report that I hiked two miles yesterday. I am healing. I will be back.

Two days before Mr. Surgeon took a saw to my leg, a friend asked my how I was doing.

“Not great,” I said. “I’m nervous about Mr. Surgeon taking a saw to my leg to remove my knee. It’s three days before Samantha’s birthday. I can’t be at the Courage Classic. I had to move this whole thing because I got stupid Covid. The last time I was so vulnerable was when I was put on bedrest because of Jack and we all know how that ended.”

Where is my mind?

Oof! I know you all are thinking…… never, ever ask Heather how she is doing two days before surgery.

And in the process, I have once again had to lean back on you…….and I thank you. The meals, the notes, the flowers, the cookies, the texts on Samantha’s birthday and (ironically) the week later when we lost her………the kidnappings so Hubs got a break, pizza dates with Mrs. PacMan, and an 18 year wedding anniversary with a new knee.

I could not do this on my own.

And I thank you.

This weekend I hiked 2 miles with amazing friends. I may have danced to a Grease sing off……

Summer Lovin’ had me a blast…..

No, I really did NOT have me a blast this summer.

But ya’ll got me through….even if you did not know it.

And for that dear tribe, I am grateful.

thank you.

13 years ago my life looked very different- it was the Summer of 2009, Samantha was on day 14 at Children’s Hospital and I was trying, very, very hard to train for the Courage Classic. I would ride from the hospital. I took the elevator from the 8th floor in my helmet, cycling shoes and super-flattering bike shorts, grab my bike from the car and take a cruise around scenic Colfax and 225.

Samantha was sick. Thursday before the ride she was still in the hospital and my chances to ride looked iffy. On Friday evening, we were finally discharged, with the caveat that if anything looked suspect, we would head back down the mountain.

We unpacked that Friday from the hospital and packed again for my ride.

We left Saturday morning at 5:00 to drive to Copper.

I got a migraine an ugly bout of diarrhea on the way up the mountains.

I don’t know why this ride was so important. But it was. Perhaps it was my time to prove I was still alive. I had spent months in the hospital with our girl. I needed to climb a mountain. I needed to find my breath.

I rode the entire tour.

Upon our return, Samantha ended up right back in the hospital.

But I did it.

And I sobbed when we finished.

Since 2009, this team has raised over $1MM for the Mitochondrial Clinic. Yesterday I sat at Panera with our doctors and they stated, quite clearly, “The goals we set ten years ago have become a reality. This money from Summits has made it happen.”

The Summits team will ride on Saturday.

They will ride without me.

This year, I am the patient.

I am a grumpy, self-pitying patient.

It was hard to bow out. It’s hard not to be up in Copper with the people I love.

It’s hard to put my knee ahead of my FOMO.

It’s hard to put my knee ahead of the feeling I get when I climb these mountains, when I find my breath, when I see my girl in the vistas.

This year, I am the patient.

Because this year, I no longer feel strong when I climb. A bike dismount is followed with concern that my knee will support me. A ride is coupled with a struggle to climb the stairs the next day.

Maybe I’m back where I started 13 years ago. Needing to find my breath again, prove my strength, find my moxie.

It takes Courage to know where we are and what we need.

This is what I am telling my grumpy, self-pitying me…..that she is courageous.

I still don’t know if she is buying it.

But next year will be different.

PS- I am still fundraising for our clinic! You can donate here!

Privileged, empowered, white, upper middle class, 50ish female. This is me.

You could call me a Karen…although I hate that term and feel bad for my friends named Karen.

It could have easily been a Heather meme instead.

“OMG she is such a Heather.” Because I kinda am.

But I know who I am.

I stand on the shoulders of proud generations before me. People who have fought for my freedoms. People who enabled me to devour this life before me. I have grown up lippy, opinionated and loved. Perhaps the last variable is the most controversial…..I am vocal because I feel safe and because I feel loved.

It’s easier to be lippy when you are loved.

So I will.

I struggled this 4th.

Because I don’t understand what it means to be an American anymore. This is not a left or right thing…..this is a who are we thing? Are we really a gun toting, forced birth, climate change denying country?

I recently read an article that said, “America is more about a dream than a place.”

I read that to my husband who said, “what a cop-out- of course we are a place. We are a country with a GDP of $20.95 trillion. This is a place.”

So, if we are not dream. And really a place…..I feel a tad more unsure of where I belong.

Because in this last week we (the collective American We) forced a ten year old rape victim to travel to Indiana because no one in Ohio would perform an abortion.

On a ten year old….who was raped.

I should read the story above about a third world country. I should drink my double espresso with foamy oat milk in the shape of a heart and shake my head but not be surprised….because I’m an American….and this happens in other countries but not here.

Oh wait.

And I like Ohio….really Cleveland is lovely. Don’t make me reconsider my Skyline Chili in Cleveland!

On the 4th, we drove to my mom’s to celebrate this great nation. And we heard about another shooting in Highland Park, Il.

Highland Park….an incredibly affluent suburb. Home to Sixteen Candles, Ferris Bueller and Risky Business. Highland Park is my personal Columbine, before Uvalde, before Buffalo, before, before.

And I’m not an extreme progressive. I am not woke….ask my nieces and they will tell me that I clearly do not know my pronouns.

I am not super liberal.

But this is not my America.

On the flip side…..I am……I am…….super lippy and super loved and soon to have a super knee.

And I make mediocre parade signs. And one thing my generations before have taught me, is that this is still my America, even when it feels as scratchy as a wool sweater lined with sandpaper……

As the great George Washington. once said, “Winning was easy, young man. Governing is harder.”

May we Govern better, listen to the voices.

And may this be our non-partisan pic one day…..filmed in Highland Park, IL.