Boston Back to Boulder

Four years ago Sharon and I decided to move to Boston, my home state, to accept the invitation of a medical student lifetime: a Harvard anesthesiology residency. No one who knows my wife would be surprised to hear she was “the best resident they’ve ever had”—yes, one attending physician actually told her that. On August 18, after nearly four years (and two babies) of inspiringly long hours and stressful duty, she walked through the revolving doors of Brigham and Women’s Hospital for the last time as low member of the totem pole and is scheduled to begin career at Lutheran Hospital in Wheatridge, CO, just north of Denver, on October 15.

Also on that day, I picked up a 26-foot UHaul and with help from friends and family, began packing our household items for our move back Colorado, whence we came, whence we said we would one day return. Two days later, on August 20, 4:30pm, we sold our house at a break-even price (the house I personally doubled in size and completely rebuilt from roofing, to siding, to gutted kitchen and bathrooms and everything in between). We then began our 6-day journey back to Boulder at 4:35pm. First stop Niagara.

Sharon and Jack aboard the Maid of the Mist

Sharon had never been there and contrary to many people’s geographic assumptions, it’s a mere 20 miles out of the way, just north of Buffalo, off I90.

We’d pulled into town late that first night, got to the Falls first thing, then made our way toward South Bend, Indiana, passing through Cleveland along the other side of the highway from the fateful spot where my left leg met it’s maker.  We picked South Bend for no other reason than it was a good spot as any to stop and I’d have a chance to see a good friend, Bruce Gordon, whom I’ve blown off on cross-country drives more times than I can count on one hand.

Got in a run first thing in the morning before heading off to south central Minnesota. We chose to stretch out the drive a bit by staying on I90 as opposed to the more direct I80 route for the sake of visiting the Black Hills. The extra effort proved well worthwhile since we truly enjoyed, and were surprised by, the beauty of the rolling Wisconsin country side and the magnificence of the Badlands and Black Hills of South Dakota.

We arrived in Rapid City, SD, on the 4th night, around 6pm. Perfect timing for a twilight visit to Mount Rushmore at which time they put on a little show with a patriotic video and description of the carving of the mountain with a back story on why they chose those four presidents. All the while some weather was coming in, lightning flashed about and wind blew. It was the perfect drama to top off our day.

Dad made the trip with us, along with Stepmom. Couldn't have done it without them

The next morning I rode the bike up one of the most fabulous short climbs of all my miles. Up route 16A, over what’s called the “Pig Tail Bridges”—a series of 360+ degree turns in the road used for elevation gain instead of the standard switchbacks; descending was a blast! Along the way there were three short tunnels through solid rock, two of which pointed directly to Mount Rushmore such that as one exits the tunnel the sculpture comes plainly into view across the valley. On an absolutely gorgeous summer day, I was appreciating my bicycle as much as ever before, despite riding with a run shoe since apparently I hadn’t packed my bike shoe in the bag with all my other workout gear. Also, the discomfort Stumpy experienced didn’t stand a chance in compromising my attitude that morning.

En route to Boulder, we had one more stop, Crazy Horse, the massive sculpture-in-the-works of the Lakota warrior chief just southwest of Rushmore. A couple years ago I had spoken to a group in Rapid City, sponsored by the Hartford. My host that day offered me an exclusive trip to the top of Crazy Horse should I ever be in the area again. We’re so glad I took advantage of the offer because standing atop that great work of art, gazing up at that 87-ft face from chin-level was truly awe-inspiring. Can’t wait to go back in 40 years and see how it’s coming along!

Luke was not as thrilled a Daddy

The entire mountain will be a sculpture

That night we made our way to Cheyenne. By noon on the 6th day, August 25th, we were at our new temp rental home at 325 South 43rd St, Boulder, CO!

We were all thrilled to be back where we consider “home,” sorry, Ma… Unpacking the UHaul turned out to be quite the unpleasant procedure as the pain Stumpy experienced on the Mt. Rushmore ride turned out to be another one of those cellulitis infections I’ve been battling for the last three years. By the next day Stumpy looked like a big, beat up cantelope and I was relegated to crutches and fevers (cold then sweaty, etc.) for three days before finally donning the bike leg and getting out for a ride on the last day of August. As I rode down the familiar bike path I had ridden upteen million times en route from my old home to the roads north of Boulder, I inavertently let out a high decibel, “We’re BAAAA-AAACK!!!!!”