Quiltbrary

While we were in the hospital, I spent one afternoon perusing Amazon. I was looking for a pattern for a wrap dress but noticed some of the quilting books I've had on my wishlist for what seems like forever were dirt cheap if I were to buy them used.

I've never been anti-used books!

When we got home from the hospital a few days later, I had a partial library waiting for me in our mailbox. How exciting!

One book even came with an unexpected reader...

In the next few days, I received enough books I could probably open my own library! I will not run out of reading or inspiration for years!

One of the books I ordered wasn't expected to arrive for a month. On October 1, I inquired what may have happened to the shipment because I still hadn't received it. I was issued a refund within about half an hour, and the merchant was extremely considerate and professional. I felt bad for costing the non-profit the $3.15 I had spent. I thought I could try to find out if I could make a charitable donation either online or via a check in the mail. I quickly forgot about my intention.

Until yesterday, when the book finally arrived in the mail, in perfect condition (just a minor bit of wear on the cover), and with the August 21 postmark. Now I really felt guilty because a non-profit that supports a great cause had not only lost a book to me, but also had refunded my money.

I immediately wrote a positive review for the merchant on Amazon, and then emailed the merchant (because the parcel included a valid email address!) and asked where I might send a charitable contribution. I am not going to forget this time.

I've not heard back from the merchant yet (it's been less than six hours as I write this post), and I may have to do some research to find a snail mail address for the Akron Goodwill. Oh, never mind! I just looked them up on Amazon so I could link them above, and there's the address I needed! The check is in the mail! I hope it doesn't take two months for them to receive it!!!

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A Really Blessed Friday

It was a bit chilly when we started our St. Patrick's Day ride up Waterton, but by the time I got to the top, I was sweating. I took off one layer and forgot to put my little camera back around my neck before I headed back down the canyon. I went halfway down, then turned around to go back up and meet Lizard, like normal. He typically goes to the top of the single track on the Colorado Trail. I'm not doing any technical riding yet (and may not ever be able to again), so I just ride up the easy portion of the canyon a second time while he does the tough part.

When I met Lizard on my second pass, almost at the top, I turned around and joined his descent, both of us talking excitedly about our rides. About three or four miles later (about six miles since I left it), I noticed I didn't have my camera. We were almost at the bottom of the canyon. My camera, if it was still around, was six miles back up the canyon.

I was devastated. I called to Lizard, crying, to tell him my camera is gone, probably permanently. I turned around and began pedaling as fast as I could, but Lizard passed me like a flash of lightning and zoomed back up as if he was in a pro race. He is so fast. Yet I assumed the worst, and I didn't think I'd ever see my little point-and-shoot again.

I kept trying to think of what I'd shot on that camera; I hadn't downloaded it all week. What shots had I lost? Oh, yeah; my walk along the greenway before work when I captured a hawk at sunrise. Now those shots would be lost, except for the two I'd transferred to my phone while riding the train to work so I could post one on Instagram. I hadn't even looked at the other shots. And now they were gone.

Some days are more difficult than others to stop stalking wildlife so I can get to work on time. Like today... #hawkrise

A post shared by Snowcatcher (@thesnowcatcher) on Mar 14, 2018 at 7:14am PDT

A couple of bends later, I flagged down a Denver Water employee, who was assisting a cyclist with a flat, to report I'd accidentally left my camera at the shelter at the top of the canyon. He took down all the pertinent information, then called on his radio to see if any of the other employees had news about a found camera.

He was on the radio for what seemed like a very long time. When he returned, he told me he would drive up the canyon to find my husband and tell him the camera had been found, and he instructed me to go back down to the wildlife station at the bottom of the canyon because someone had just turned in a Nikon P530 with a Velcro case containing spare batteries and memory cards on the strap. I was spellbound. It sounded like my camera. How could it be?!?

The Denver Water employee explained the canyon is filled with good people, especially up at the top. I knew he was right. We're always helping others, or we see others helping others. We've given water to Colorado Trail through-hikers who were out. We've (meaning Lizard) helped other cyclists with flat tires and busted chains. We've cautioned people not to get too close to bears or bighorn or rattlesnakes. And I can't even begin to count how many times I've put a Batman or hot pink bandage on a little kid's bloody knee and then presented them a Honey Stinger because fancy bandages and a sweet treat make owies go away.


I raced down the canyon probably the fastest I've ever ridden ever in my life. Didn't know I could pedal so fast.

As I rode to the wildlife station, the ranger smiled and said, "I bet I know what you are here for!"

He handed me my camera without even asking any information. It was indeed my camera. I began to cry. He told me a father and son had turned it in. They had seen me with it, and they tried to find me as they pedaled down the canyon, and they even searched the parking lot but couldn't find me. They probably didn't expect to see me riding back up the canyon my second time, especially if they were riding down fast trying to catch someone they had briefly seen and did not know. They may even have seen me before I took off my tights and fleece, so they might not have recognized me at all, even if they had seen me.

I keep thinking about the example that father set for his son.

I thanked the ranger and told him how grateful I am. He told me the canyon is filled with good people. I'm beginning to think that is true!

I pedaled back up to find Lizard, but not anywhere near as fast because I was exhausted and going back uphill for the fourth time to boot. I also was grateful and humble. I think I prayed about 11 times, thanking Heavenly Father for helping me get my camera back.


I have more than one camera, and this is not my best camera. But I will be needing it as a backup in just two weeks when I am trusted with the responsibility of shooting my niece's wedding. I can't afford to replace a camera before then. To me, it is a miracle I got this camera back.

About halfway up the canyon, I saw Lizard pedaling back down. We rode back down together, talking about how wonderful it is that someone took the time to try to return a lost camera to a stranger.

In all, I pedaled a total of 27.5 miles, the most I've done since I've been back on my bike. I got to ride the last mile with my little neighbor, and she high-fived me at the end for beating my previous mileage.

This was a remarkable ride in so many ways. I am not totally convinced I deserved this amazing blessing, but I sure am thankful.

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Insert Theme from "Rocky" Here

Day Seven
Alamosa to Salida
86 miles
19 June 2010

A week ago, I couldn't believe Ride the Rockies was here. Now I can't believe we're done.

What an incredible tour. Beyond hard, but spectacular. Not only were the scenery and challenge the best ever, but I DID IT!!!!!!!!!! Wednesday night, I wanted to quit and go home. Today, I crossed the finish line with my fist in the air and tears of joy streaming down my face just like the many waterfalls I've passed along the way.

About 40 miles of long, straight flat though sometimes bumpy road with a slight tailwind led to a 30-mile rolling hills stretch called Poncha Pass, a 9,010-foot bump in the road you hardly notice when driving it. Riding taught me it is a climb, albeit a mild one in comparison to the other passes we've done this week. The wind finally gave us a hand and powered us up and over. I anticipated finishing around 3 or 4, due to mileage, but I finished at 1 p.m.! Even better, I wasn't wiped out when I crossed the finish line. I was on the complete opposite end of the physical and emotional spectrum, compared to last night and Wednesday night.

In fact, I was so enthusiastic and full of energy, I rode back around the park again and crossed the finish line a second time, hand in hand with The Lizard, so my co-worker Mike could get a picture of us crossing the finish line together! (The Lizard finished at 11.)

I'd planned to start the ride before the sun came up so I could see the sun come up over the Sangres and also so I could finish before nightfall. I got two blocks out onto the course before realizing my back tire was flat.

If I'd done my extra three miles last night, we would have figured out one of the day's potholes had killed my inner tube, and we could have fixed it before bed. But then I guess that would have kept me from playing hero today. Twice. And I'm not so sure I would have chosen to miss these opportunities.

Near the top of Poncha Pass, the heat was getting to me. I was beginning to get discouraged, and I've learned attitude is key when I'm on my bike for long distances. Suddenly I noticed a rider on the side of the road. As I grew closer, I realized she was not laughing on a cell phone, she was crying. She was in severe pain. At first, I thought she may have crashed, and I was puzzled why other riders passed her by.

I stopped to find out what was wrong, and she sobbed that her legs were cramping. You could see the pain in her face. She was so close to the finish, and she'd done fine all week, but now she wasn't sure she could go on. She was in that much pain.

Leg cramps typically are caused by inadequate salt intake to replenish what you sweat out. I rifled through my pack to see if I had anything with sodium. My final squeeze packet of almond butter would have to do.

Soon her friends rolled along, and once they made sure she was feeling a bit better, she sent me on my way, graciously thanking me for coming to her aid. About half an hour later, she passed me, of course; everyone passes me. I asked if she was feeling stronger. She said she wasn't top of her form but would make it, thanks to me.

Needless to say, I didn't have any problem continuing the ride from that point on. I felt as if I was riding in the clouds, even though the sun was still desperately seeking weak spots in my sunscreen and chapstick.

On the other side of the summit, during another wind-enhanced descent, I noticed a cyclist on the side of the road who appeared somewhat perturbed at his bike. I heard him shout out for help as a group of us whizzed by, but no one stopped. Except me. I'm assuming no one else heard him, since they were moving much faster than me. I'm pretty hard on my brakes during descents, no regrets.

Turns out he'd flatted for about the fifth time and had no more tubes. I felt pretty confident about my own tires, even though I'd experienced my first flat of the ride the night before without knowing it. I keep Kevlar strips in my tires precisely to prevent such occurrences, and today's flat was my second of the entire year. So I surrendered my final spare without hesitation, and he thanked me and sent me on, saying he'd become quite adept at changing tubes in the last few days.

By now, my mood was soaring higher and faster than my bike downhill in a terrific tailwind. Note to Self: Next time you're feeling sad, lonely, exhausted or discouraged, do a good deed. Does absolute wonders for your spirit!

This is the most difficult tour I've ever done. During the last five miles, I reflected upon the most difficult times of my life. Losing my sister. Losing my brother. Raising two adopted and troubled special needs kids alone. The kids running away. Selling my home to pay for my daughter's rehab.

All were such difficult tragedies, none were by choice (except the adoptions), and I trudged my way through, with the help of friends and blessings from Heaven.

Today, I finished something hard I chose and brought on myself. I did something I wasn't sure I could do to see if I could, and it feels fantastic to triumph. This is not a feeling I want to let go of. This is something I wish the whole world could feel.

I didn't take a single photo today (see Denver Post Day 7 photos here), but hopefully the emotional images engraved upon my soul will last forever.

Thanks, Mike, for the photos! We LOVE them!!!

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