2010 Giant’s Valley 5K Run/Walk

My hometown of Le Sueur Minnesota is an idyllic town on the Minnesota River valley. From the Twin Cities it is southwest about 45 miles, just far enough out that it has not yet felt the effects of urban sprawl. Every summer Le Sueur celebrates the “Giant Celebration” with a carnival, Bingo, softball tournament, a parade with beauty queens riding floats and a corn-on-the-cob feast. The celebration evolved from “Corn on the Curb Days”, a celebration hosted by the Green Giant company back in the days when I was a young boy. Giant Days is kicked off each year with the Valley 5K Run/Walk, which attracts about 250 runners, walkers, dogs on leashes and moms with baby strollers.

This year my wife, two sons and my father joined me in the 5K. My teenage boys walked with my dad, who about two years ago suffered a serious stroke (see my previous post). My dad did it! He crossed the finish line with his grandsons in just over an hour.

The racers

A motivational T-shirt. At age 64 my dad bungy jumped off the Kawarau Bridge in New Zealand.

My Dad and his two grandsons at the starting line. Notice the ominous ambulance behind them. It would follow them throughout the race.

The race begins.

Crossing the starting line.

Brining up the rear.

Somewhere around the 2km (1.2 miles) mark.

At the 3km (1.9 mile) mark.

The race passes through the former campus and headquarters of the Green Giant Company,

Approaching the finish line. A carnival is on the left.

Just a few steps from the finish line. A couple of years ago a few steps would have been a challenge for my dad.

Crossing the finish line. Notice the beauty queens on the right. They greeted all the runners with a big dish of American Pie.

Two Years is Worth Everything

Two years ago when my oncologist was giving my wife and me the possibilities for my future, I was shocked when he expressed contentment that chemotherapy could extend my life a couple of years. That was really disturbing to me. I wanted much more than two more years, especially if I was going to go through the agony, suffering and potential lethal risks that chemotherapy can dish out. Thinking that my oncologist was being conservative with his bedside manner, I searched the internet for more optimistic news, but everywhere I looked the message was the same, two years, even several months of extended life was considered worth doing the most dangerous medical procedures. Now it’s been about two years after my diagnosis of cancer and I now know the truth – life is worth every bit of struggle.

These last two years I have lived a lifetime. I’ve ran two marathons, a half marathon, and my wife has joined me on shorter races. We’ve been on many trips these last two years. My wife and I had a romantic wedding anniversary in Las Vegas. My wife and two boys have gone to the Minnesota Boundary Waters for a canoe adventure, a trip to Arizona and Las Vegas, and a road trip to Arkansas to my in-law’s cabin in the Ouachita Mountains. My two boys and I went with other family members on our first Huck Finn trip, canoeing down the Mississippi River along with the barges, and camping on sandbars. My wife traveled with me on a week long business trip to Phoenix while Grandma and Grandpa watched our boys. There were snowboard outings and countless family gatherings for birthdays and holidays and special family annual get-togethers like the Strandjord Winter Lutsen gathering on north shore of Lake Superior and the Strandjord Fall Wiener Roast at my parents place in the country.

During these last two years I’ve seen my granddaughter catch her first fish, my grandson shoot his first real gun. I saw my daughter move to Manhattan all on her own and land a job as an assistant to a COO of a hedge fund during one of the most difficult times in the job market and economy. I saw my oldest son, who’s a senior this year, make the All Conference Team in high school bowling by ranking 7^th in the conference. At the conclusion of the season he was ranked 81^st in the state. I saw my youngest son blossom in wrestling to become a captain of his middle school team and go undefeated during regular season. This year he is wrestling on the high school team and has wrestled both JV and varsity. Two years ago I was hoping to live just long enough to see another bowling and wrestling season.

Just after finishing chemotherapy I joined my wife in riding Harley’s. My wife has been a Harley biker for many years and has her own Super Glide. I bought my Fat Boy while still going through chemotherapy. When I was going through chemo and fighting cancer I didn’t put my dreams and aspirations on hold. That really helped me stay positive during those difficult times. Since then my wife and I have gone on many rides. We like head out with little planning and see were some country roads take us. As we explore the countryside we look for that special biker bar in some little town to have a hamburger and ice tea. Over these last two years biking has become a very important part of my life, and what makes it extra special is I get to enjoy it with my wife.

Those were the major highlights of the last two years and this article only takes a slight glance at them. To really convey the wonderfulness of each would require a novel to describe the sights, the sounds, the feelings, the smiles and laughter that make up each one. When you break down a life highlight into the constituents that really make it wonderful you find those elements that also make up any ordinary day. When I look back at these last two years I see a lifetime of those elements: smiles and laughter with my family, my wife snuggling to me while I hold her in my arms, my youngest son snuggling to me while we watch TV, my granddaughter giving me a leg hug while she says, “I love you grandpa”, and it goes on and on and on.

Now I get it. Now I understand why physicians show high spirits when there is a chance of extending someone’s life a few months or a couple of years even if it means undergoing a dangerous procedure; because every minute of life is worth every bit of struggle. All it takes is one minute to feel joy from a smile, a hug, a laugh, a sound, a sight, a smell or a few simple spoken words. There’s about 43,000 minutes in a month, and over a half of a million minutes in a year. That can add up to a wealth of hugs, laughs and smiles.

Excelsior Firecracker Run

Yesterday my wife Renee and I ran in the Excelsior/Lake Minnetonka 2 mile/10k. Excelsior is a historic small town on Lake Minnetonka and is only a couple of miles from our home. Downtown Excelsior has many restaurants, specialty shops, art shops, and a trolley car that takes you to a trolley boat called the Minnehaha, and a beautiful park on the lake. The 4th of July celebration in Excelsior starts off with a 2 mile and 10k runs, then a sand castle building contest, a kid’s parade, and kid’s fishing contest. (When my two boys were little they would decorate their bikes and kick scooters for the kid’s parade.) Later in the evening the world-renowned Minnesota Orchestra plays in the park band shell and then a huge fireworks display is lit off from a barge floating in Lake Minnetonka.
Renee and I started going to the Excelsior 4th of July celebration about 25 years ago, long before we lived in the area. At that time we did not have a boat and would setup a picnic in the Excelsior Commons Park and swim at the beach while passing time before the big show. In those days the fireworks was not shot off from a barge but rather on shore near the outfield of the baseball diamond. The fireworks launch site was so close you felt you were a part of the pyrotechnics team. There would be times sparkles from a low exploding fireworks would continue to burn and sparkle all the way down into the crowd. It was fireworks with a thrill of danger. The move to the barge was a good move.
This was the first year I participated in the Firecracker run and Renee’s first ever participation in a running event. Renee ran the 2 mile and I ran the 10K (6.2 miles). She is not ardent runner, but rather has slowly worked into it during her workouts. Renee and I often go together to the Lake Minnetonka LRT Regional Trail to workout. When we started about 3 years ago she would fast walk while I would run. Running would cause discomfort in her knees so she started fast walking for about 4 miles. After awhile the walking wasn’t enough for a good aerobic workout, so she started to run short sections of her course. As time went on the running part of her workout grew longer until she was pretty much running the entire 4 miles plus. After the 2 mile Firecracker run she is ready to do more, starting with some 5k runs and maybe working up to 10k runs.

Below are some photos of the Excelsior Firecracker run. I brought my little Casio camera on the run. I took many pictures but most of them didn’t turn out because of the lack of light due to the overcast and the bouncing around from my running. But a few turned out and here they are.

Renee at the registration line. We got there early.

Renee at the starting line.

Two mile runners start out at Excelsior Commons.

Renee (#144) just crossing the starting line.

The finish line is back at the park. Most of the run is a loop.

Renee coming up to the finish line.

I'm in the middle of the pack at the starting line of the 10k.

Start of the 10k. It is so packed with runners I can hardly run.

It doesn't take long for the runners to stretch out. St. Alban's bay is on the right and Excelsior bay on the left.

St. Alban's bay as I cross a bridge over a channel between St. Alban's and Excelsior bays.

Running down Minnetonka Blvd.

The race course brings us by some beautiful scenery. Here are some wetlands.

About a mile from the finish line. Excelsior bay in the distance.

Lake St. Excelsior. The finish line is just around the corner.

Feeling good after the race.

My Darkest Days; My Brightest Shine

I recently had my one year anniversary of the infamous day I got that call from my doctor – you have cancer. I was laid up in bed recovering from a hernia surgery and my wife was out all day doing errands and picking my boys from school events. I was waiting for my surgeon to call my about the results of a lymph node biopsy, but I was expecting the news to be something like, it’s nothing, just a virus or an infection, or irritation from the hernia. I was not expecting, “you have an aggressive form of cancer”. The good news my doctor said was, “it’s curable in up to about 50% of the cases”. Okay, I’m typically the-glass-is-half-full kind of guy, for when it comes to my life, I like the glass at least 99.999% full if not overflowing. A 50% cure rate just didn’t seem like good news at first, and I didn’t like the “up to” part neither. What’s with that “up to”?

Just after my surgeon called I started to Google my disease. My surgeon warned me that I would find some really scary stuff on the internet and I did. I learned what “up to” meant. The 50% cure rate doesn’t apply to all of those who have diffused large b-cell lymphoma, only those who are in stage I, where the cancer is caught early and has not spread beyond the lymph nodes and not all lymph nodes are affected. Depending on the stage of the cancer, the water in the glass can get pretty low. The news hit me like a sledge hammer; I was knocked dizzy and there was a whirlwind thoughts going through my mind. I had to pull it together before my wife got home.

When my wife arrived I nailed her with the news before she even got her coat off in the entryway. My poor wife, she was blindsided by a Mack truck. I kept the news positive though, focusing on the 50% cure rate and I think I left out the “up to” until later. That night I don’t remember any grieving, we were mostly numb.

Because the cancer was very aggressive I was placed on the fast track for testing to see the extent of the cancer and determine the best course of treatment. The next day I got a CT scan and that showed a big tumor in my gut and a small one in my armpit, but the rest of my organs looked pretty good. The following week would be a PET scan and a bone marrow biopsy, all showing that the cancer was only in my lymph nodes on only one side of my body. So we were relieved to find it was only stage I. One way to look at a 50% cure rate is take a six shooter pistol, load half the barrels with bullets, then over the course of a couple of years you need to place the pistol to your head and pull the trigger. And that’s better because if you’re unlucky at least you go quickly without pain. That is a really dark way to think about it and even with the positive attitude I normally have, those kinds of thoughts were flooding my mind for the first few weeks after I got the call.

Even though I was devastated by the news, I had to take care of my family. The day after I got my diagnoses I started to seriously plan for my death. Not that I was giving up. I had every intention of fighting the cancer and wining. But with a 50% chance one has to be pragmatic about things. I needed to know that my family would be ok if the dice don’t go my way. So I checked into my life insurance policies and added up our debt to find that my family would be ok. I thought about who would be a father figure for my boys and how this would affect my daughter who has two kids of her own and would my wife find someone else that would make her happy. That was a tough day with lots of tears.

It was just before Christmas that all this happened and there was many family gatherings planned for the season. You would think that this would be a good time to gather with family, but it was really a hard time. My wife and I were exhausted by the anxiety of dealing with all the tests, hospital visits and the grim prospects of the future. Together we did our share of grieving, so when it was time to be with other family members and friends my wife and I were all grieved out. We just wanted to put all the cancer stuff on the back burner and have a good time, but there was always someone who wanted to leave the fun and joy behind and turn the party into a bereavement session. They have good intentions, it’s just their results really suck. Fortunately I was prepared and had my shields up (my big impenetrable smile) and remained mostly positive during the holiday gatherings, but my poor wife was nearly crushed, once again blindsided by a Mac truck.

About three weeks after my hernia surgery I was able to start running. Since it was cold outside and my wife believes in the wife’s tale of being out in the cold will cause one to get sick, I was relegated to run on our treadmill. Nevertheless I was just happy to run. It was one of the best medicines for my mental health. I felt the strongest when I was running, and the harder I ran the stronger I felt. My wife knows I have a tendency to go overboard with things and she feared I would go too far with my running. But when I first started running again after my surgery I was more focused on my own needs and forgot that some compromise is required to consider my wife’s needs. One morning I was running on the treadmill and my wife was upstairs. It may have been the day just after a chemo treatment. When I completed my run I went upstairs to find my wife hunched over with her body shaking in sobs. That day I fully realized there were two people fighting my cancer. We had different needs and some compromise was required. I promised I would rest the first day after chemo and wouldn’t run until the second day, which was also a compromise on my wife’s part. If she had her way I wouldn’t run for a few days after chemo.

Just before I got cancer I would spend some time thinking about the future. My wife and I have plans for traveling around the USA on our Harley’s. All of sudden, it was difficult to think about anything other than making it through the day and completing chemo. There were times when thoughts of the future entered my mind, only to be blown away with thoughts of, “why bother, I may not be around in the future anyways”.

One night my wife and I were lying in bed snuggled to each other and she said while breaking into sobbing tears how scared she was. At that instant all my pent-up anguish escaped and I too burst into sobbing tears. My wife and I were holding each other while our bodies shook uncontrollably with each sob. That was a turning point for us; we hit rock bottom. From that night forward we continued to get emotionally stronger and more positive about life.

A couple of months after my diagnosis I was visiting with my father. I think we were out for a walk at his place out in the country. I basically told him that I was ready to die, but not in those words. I told him that I was happy with what life has given me and I had no regrets, that I felt fortunate even if the cancer takes me soon. I had no feelings of resentment. It wasn’t that I was giving up my fight against cancer, no way! I plan to fight to the bitter end anything that threatens to take my life. I just finally realized that I was not invincible and there was no good reason to worry about the things we cannot control.

These were the darkest days of my life. But from the darkness came my brightest shine. The love between my wife and I got much deeper and stronger. My oldest Brother and I were drifting apart with busy lives. In the past we have done many adventures together, but as time wore on we were hardly talking to each other. Now we meet often at a coffee shop to discuss plans of our next adventure like the one we did last summer in the Minnesota Boundary Waters Canoe Area. I don’t need big things in my life for enjoyment. Just walking out to my mailbox, hearing the birds, seeing the trees and feeling a cool breeze across my face makes my day. I’ve tended to be a recluse, but now being with people has become very important. Rather than running with a headset listening to music and withdrawn from passersby I now run without music and greet everyone I can.

Shortly after being diagnosed I started to think about running Grandma’s marathon. I created this blog at first to publicly announce my intentions in order to provide some motivation to go though with it. And I admit that I like public attention and like to brag every now and then. I saw this cancer thing and running Grandma’s marathon as Chemo-Man as an opportunity to get some fame and bragging rights. But quickly I realized that this could be an opportunity to do something good, to turn the cancer thing into something positive and constructive and help others who may be going through something similar. The fame really didn’t come, I guess running a marathon in a tutu is a better way to get on the nightly news and in the paper, but I got something much better. Being able to make a positive difference in the lives of others, even though it’s just a few, is worth all the effort.

We all have dark days in our lives. Some people have much darker days than others; I can think of much worse things than getting cancer. The biggest difference though is how one reacts. There are basically two ways people approach dark days. Some cower into a corner and wallow in their grief, blame others for their problems and only see darkness. But some look into the dark and see light. They refuse to accept defeat, take responsibility for their life, and make something good happen.

If I was given a chance to do it all over again, I would never decide to have cancer. I think I would have done just fine without it. Life would have thrown me plenty of opportunities to grow. Furthermore, I am far from being out of the woods. Statistically, there is about a 20% chance I won’t be around four years from now. I don’t need that. However, this is what life has giving me and I plan to turn it into something good. What kind of person are you when the days turn dark? Do you only drop to your knees and let darkness swallow you up, or do you stand up and try to shine? The wonderful thing is that you have a choice.

Success is never wondering, “What if?”

Sunday morning was cool and dark at 7AM when about 17,000 runners gathered around the HHH Metrodome in downtown Minneapolis. About 6,000 runners were about to start the TC 10 mile run, while the other 11,000 tried to stay warm in the cold wind. Runners were wearing all sorts of things, trash bags as ponchos and old worn out sock as gloves, all which would be discarded along the race course after burning a few hundred calories. Then there was the forecast – rain, very possibly heavy rain, maybe even a thunderstorm. It may sound like the worst conditions for a marathon, but for me it was near perfect, much better than high temperatures and humidity. If you grow up, live, and run in Minnesota, you become accustom to the cold. This was a Minnesotan’s day to run a marathon; the only possible improvement would be a few snow flakes.

All my three previous marathons have been in the heat, so this was new to me. I have done a 23 mile practice run in the coolness and know that my long distance performance greatly improves when the mercury dips into the 50s or lower. Waiting at the starting line with my wife just on the other side of the corral fence I made my decision, “I’m going for it” I told her, “I’m going for under 4 hours”. I knew my performance would be much better than my summer long runs because of the coolness, I just didn’t know if my legs would hold up since my summer training was a bit sporadic. The one thing I didn’t want to happen is play it safe and then for the rest of my life wonder if I could have done it. I had to try.

The 8AM start of the marathon was fairly dry, but that didn’t last very long. For about the first 15 miles or so it rained, sometimes very hard. At times gusting wind would blow rain and leaves into my face. Some of the streets became flooded and at some parts of the course policemen were diverting runners to the high side of the road. I loved it and so did other runners around me. Unlike heat which drains your energy, the rain and wind seem to elevate our spirits. Spectators were cheering on the runners, some runners were cheering on the spectators while some were cheering on the rain.

During the first half of the race the numbers of spectators were thinner than past years, but I was surprised on how many did show considering how hard the rain was pouring. There were large groups at key locations, probably where parking can be found. I think the weather weeded out the causal spectator, because the ones that did show up were there to cheer on the runners with exuberance. Even though I decided to try for a finish under 4 hours, I did remain true to my main objective - to engage the crowd.

At last year’s TC marathon I also learned that sometimes it takes a runner to get the crowd going, which in turn gets the runners going. It’s a symbiotic relationship - runners inspire spectators and spectators motivate runners. Runners also inspire and motivate other runners. It’s so unlike other sports where there is an opponent that needs to be crushed. That’s what I love about marathons. There is so much positive energy flowing all directions and negativity is no where to be found. For this race time I wanted to put everything into Chemo-Man.

After the first couple of miles of being reserved and quiet, I came up to a large group at an intersection and I finally let it all hang out at the top of my voice yelling, “It feels great to be alive and running!” That generated a big response of applause and yells like, “way to go Chemo-Man”. This would happen again and again for the next 20 miles. It wasn’t just the spectators getting into Chemo-Man; I received countless sincere nods, pats on the back, and clenching fist taps from fellow runners too.

A runner understands another runner. They know what it means to be able to run, and what it would be like to loose it. So when a runner sees another runner overcoming great adversity to stay in the race, they are inspired. That’s another wonderful thing about marathons, there inspiration everywhere. Many runners at Sunday’s race had to overcome some type of hardship or misfortune. You see it written on their shirts. They are running in honor someone they lost, or close friend that is struggling with a crippling disease. Then there is the old farts – runners in the 70 to 74 age bracket, or the over 74 bracket. Near the end of the race I saw one 70-74 pass me up, probably on his way to break 4 hours. Did that bother me? No, it was pure inspiration.

My pace for the first 20 miles was much faster than what I trained for this summer. Last year for the TC marathon I was in my best shape and trained at a speed to finish under 4 hours. However last year I started to succumb to the heat around mile 17 and didn’t reach mile 20 at a good enough time to complete the last 6.2 miles with a reasonable pace. This year I hit mile 20 in full stride and with a time of 2:57. To finish under 4 hours chip time all I would have to do is complete the last 6.2 miles with an easy pace just over 10 minutes per mile. But then my legs and right foot said, “NO MORE” and I started to feel a bit dizzy. For much of the remaining 6 miles I had to alternate between walking and running to stave off the feeling of dizziness and pain in my legs and foot. I did save enough energy to complete the last half mile at a good running pace. I didn’t finish under 4 hours, my chip time was 4:18, about one minute faster than my time at Grandma’s marathon, but I was still very happy with my performance. The important thing is I tried and I will not be haunted by the question, “what if?”

BWCA Photos

I went a bit crazy with posting 42 BWCA photos, but I had over 400 to choose from. Before going on I need to put this BWCA thing into context. Besides Grandma’s marathon, looking forward to a family adventure in the BWCA was instrumental in fighting off depression and despair during the time I didn’t know if I would be physically capable of such a thing, or worse yet, alive. It would have been easy to temporarily give up future dreams and concentrate on the task of fighting cancer and preparing my family for the worse. However I found that the best thing for me and my family was not to push future plans aside, but rather embrace them. My brother Cary stepped in by proposing a BWCA adventure.

Cary and I have done many adventures together, sometimes with our brother Mark and sometimes with other family members. In the last few years our adventuring has gone mostly to the wayside; life was way too busy. Then aggressive cancer threatened to swiftly take my life. That was a wakeup call to refocus on the truly important things. I wasn’t the only one to get this wakeup call, others close to me also benefited from my cancer. Yes, you heard it right - benefited. As horrible and ugly cancer is, there are also a lot of positive things that can be harvested from it. Cary and I are now planning other adventures, such as a backpacking trip into the Crazy Mountains and a sea kayaking trip from the Minnesota north shore of Lake Superior out to Isle Royal, an island in Lake Superior that is a national park and a primitive wilderness area.

On our BWCA adventure we canoed over 24 miles of water and portaged more than 4.5 miles in six days and five nights. My brother Cary and his wife Pat, being pros at this thing, could have covered at least twice that distance in the same time, but my wife Renee, my sons Chris and Daniel, and I are rookies and thus set the pace. Trying to cover as much distance as possible wasn’t on our docket anyways. Thanks to Cary and Pat we learned how to do things efficiently and comfortably. We saw other groups that were obviously rookies with no clue. The right methods can make the difference between flirting with disaster, misery and pain and having a fulfilling and enjoyable time. Besides, it just feels good to do things the right way. As you can see from the following photos, we had a wonderful time.



Preparing dinner at the Sawbill campground the night before our adventure.

Day 1: Cary and Pat find a quiet nook out of the wind while waiting for the rest of us to catch up on Sawbill Lake.

Renee and Chris unloading at our first portage at the northern end of Sawbill lake.

Daniel digs in with a paddle on Ada Creek. During this stretch we had to drag the canoes over a beaver dam.

Renee and Chris bring up the rear on Ada Creek. If you try to step out on the grass you'll find yourself sinking into waist high muck.

For the first day Cary and Pat take the lead, but after us rookies learned a few things, they let us lead the way for most of the trip. I think this is Ada Lake.

Daniel and I unloading the canoe to prepare for a 180 rod portage. This was an easy landing. For some landings I would have been over my head in water if on the outer side of the canoe.

I think this is Cherokee Creek. I need to find a way to take notes along with pictures. I could record some voice memos on my camera if it wasn't inside an underwater housing. Since canoes are very prone to flipping, you don't want to take out an expensive camera while on the water. To safely get pictures on the water I put my camera in an underwater housing that is normally used for scuba diving.

Still on Cherokee Creek. Much of our water travel was not on big lakes but rather streams, small and narrow lakes. The forest here is very dense with brush and small pine trees. The only way to travel any significant distance in this land is by canoe.

Campfire at our first campsite on Cherokee Lake.

My youngest son Daniel (13) slept by himself in a hammock tent. Canoes are stored well within the confines of trees. My brother Cary learned not to store canoes on the lake shore where winds from storms can carry them away.

Day 2: Having breakfast in camp was also an important social time.

Pat grew up exploring the BWCA. Her family started as rookies but honed their skills over decades of practice. They made their own equipment and even their own canoes. Pat's family introduce the BWCA to Cary, who then added his own touch to methods and style. Cary has even done some solo trips into the BWCA.

Making Jiffy Pop popcorn at our second campsite on Cherokee lake. We decided to make day two a short travel day to spend more time playing in camp. This camp we found was a beaut, a rare find in the BWCA. This campsite was the only one on a big island at the northern end of Cherokee Lake.

Day 3: Sunrise on Cherokee lake. I tried to get up early enough each morning to catch the sunrise. This morning the sunrise was glorious. This day we planned to hang around camp or do a day trip and return.

Making bacon for breakfast.

Daniel and I found a nice rock to jump from into the lake. Here we are swimming back from the rock to our campsite.

Cary and Pat did a day trip to Frost Lake and my family stayed more local. After swimming, fishing and catching leaches on our island, the four of us jumped into a canoe and crossed the bay to a beach. Here Chris is doing his favorite thing - fishing.

Daniel and I like to make sandcastles.

Yours truly relaxing in nature's recliner.

Chris watches the sunset at a vista on top of a huge, granite outcropping near our campsite.

Day 4: Renee and I enjoy the sunrise with tea and coffee. Today will be a big day because we'll start on a loop to return to the Sawbill entry point. Our goal is to make it all the way to Brule Lake. At some point we'll be committed to finish the loop. Little did we know that some very difficult portages were ahead.

It's not the rocks you see that are the problem, it's the submerged ones you don't see that can ruin your day. Kevlar canoes are great because they are lightweight, making portages bearable and moving quickly on water. But they don't like contact with rocks. A punctured canoe can result in a really bad day, especially when you are two days away from any help.

Chris and Renee clear the rocks just fine. Chris steered from the stern for the entire trip.

Pat takes a break. Cary and Pat have Duluth packs, which are specifically designed for traveling by canoe and portaging. Duluth packs are shorter and wider than backpacks. Duluth packs and portage packs are optimized for canoes by keeping the weight low to maximize stability. Something you appreciate when the wind is strong and the waves are high.

Daniel took this picture of me carrying a canoe on a rocky portage. This is actually an easy one. During this day we picked our way through a couple of portages with relentless difficult terrain of steep climbs, slippery moss covered rocks, boulders, tree roots and knee deep muck. Care and absolute focus had to be put into every single step. A wrong step could lead to a serious injury.

Renee prepares for another rocky portage.

Cary and I prepare dinner at our campsite on Brule Lake. It felt good to find a vacant campsite after a long hard day of portaging. Cary and I each had a backpacking style camp stove. A canoe is turned upside down to serve as a table for preparing food and washing dishes.

Day 5: Cary and Pat are making pancakes for breakfast and I'm baking a strawberry muffin mix in a backpacking oven.

Checkout the strawberry muffins. Mmmm good. Some of the food wasn't that tasty, but when your hungry enough you'll eat anything. Everything from the backpacking oven was great, that is once I learned how to bake without burning the food to a crisp.

Renee and I washing dishes.

Chris packing his cloths into a waterproof compression bag. By pulling on straps attached to the compression bag, cloths and sleeping bags are squeezed into a much smaller size, resulting in fewer portage packs.

Renee checks our next move on the map.

Lilly pads that covered many of the small lakes were in bloom.

Day 6: Yesterday was a long and hard day with two monster portages, long stretches of water, at late camp setup, and dinner in the dark after waiting out a storm. We were very lucky to find this vacant campsite on Burnt Lake. Here Renee and I are planning out our last day to the Sawbill entry point. The winds are strong and the waves are challenging so careful planning is prudent.

Every campsite in the BWCA has a throne which is placed a little hike away from the campsite.

Cary and Daniel discuss things at breakfast. A lot of bonding happens over the course of a few days with no TVs, cell phones and video games.

Chris on our final portage to Sawbill Lake.

Renee still has a smile after six days of adventure. That's my girl.

Cary carries a 40lb canoe and a 50lb portage pack at the same time. This method eliminates double portaging which can take a lot more time and limits how deep one can travel into the BWCA.

A rest stop at the end of our last portage on Sawbill Lake. The winds are very strong here and some of us are a bit nervous about canoeing on the lake.

We make it back to Sawbill Outfitters with no mishaps. Our adventure is over, but the experience will continue to influence us for a lifetime.