Survivors at the Summit

For four years, my family has attended the annual Survivors at the Summit event hosted at the Snowbird resort by the Cancer Wellness House. It's a fundraiser for the CWH with a pancake breakfast and then an incredibly arduous hike to the Hidden Summit, where they have a ceremony each year at the top. Whether we've hiked or ridden the tram to the top, it's been a a wonderful way for us to come together as a family and show our support for my dad and feel the support and love of other families who also deal with cancer.

This year, my mom had shirts made for us so we could look a little more like a unified team. On the front, they had a little Survivor's at the Summit logo, and on the back they said, "Love is stronger than cancer." I have to admit, I struggled a little with that phrase. I knew what it meant but I couldn't quite wrap it around my perspective on cancer.

My perspective shifted a little though, and I was able to understand better what that phrase means. If we give in to the fear and uncertainty and grief of cancer, we give power to cancer. But if we choose love and life and hope and family, in spite of the daily struggles and trials and set backs, love is stronger than cancer, and as a family, we become stronger than it too. It's a powerful message, and we actually had several people ask us where they could get one. Who knows, maybe next year they CWH will make their own.

This year, we stayed both Friday and Saturday night at a condo at Snowbird, which was absolutely lovely. We couldn't have asked for a more beautiful or secluded location. Here's a recap of the weekend in pictures:

First we celebrated the fact that my sister Rachel is done with school and graduated!!! Her husband Jase made her an awesome cap (out of file folders, no less) and we had ourselves a little party. I am so proud of her!


Instead of hiking, my dad and Tim and I volunteered to help with the event in the morning. Honestly, we didn't do much, but we were real helpful when there was anything to do, like putting up signs.


Dad with two of my aunts who came to support him. They both hiked the mountain - go Auntie Robin and Auntie Annie!


My mom's best friend Maureen came with her husband and her daughter Madelyn, Madelyn's husband Mike, and their adorable little girl Marina. Madelyn lived in Pittsburgh while I was there, and I hadn't seen her since I moved back. I was so excited when I found out they were coming - it was great to catch up!


The whole group, there to support my dad...


...minus me and Tim because we were manning one of the booths at the time.


The yellow flags at the top of the mountain are like prayer flags, and each one has a message to someone who has or had cancer. It's incredible to see all the flags flapping (sometimes almost flying away) in the wind.



Here are some examples of flags written for my dad:



And of course, we love being in such a beautiful place. The view never gets old from the top of the summit.


Here are our shirts from the back. I really, really love this picture. I love that we're together, unified by our shirts, yes, but really unified in what it means. I means a lot to me that we go every year to this event.

Surviving the Summit

There it was...the trail went up, the mountain loomed, and I took those first steps knowing that before the end of my journey, each of those steps would hurt.

I was right.

Two and a half hours later, I was two and a half miles up the mountain and still had eight switchbacks to go. Though it was only a three-mile hike, the trail ascended 3,000 feet in those three miles--literally an uphill climb the entire way. My knees were ready to give out, my ankles hurt were aching, and I was soaked with sweat. I didn't know how I was going to make it up that last half-mile to the Summit.

That was when my little brother Ethan, the firefighting champion that he is, walked with me at my slow pace, sometimes pushing me from behind, as I fought to keep hiking. And I thought, this is what family is all about--supporting each other when we falter, pushing each other up when we feel we have no strength, walking at the pace of the slowest person to make sure we all make it to the top.

The hike to Hidden Peak at Snowbird has become a yearly tradition for my family since my dad was diagnosed with cancer. Though we don't always hike, we at least ride the tram to the top of the mountain and stay for the program that the Cancer Wellness House does and take pictures of the hundreds of yellow flags snapping in the breeze. The flags are each dedicated to people with cancer, and each one speaks of hope and love, triumph and strength, as well as grief and farewells.

This year was the first year I was able to hike all the way to the Summit, and though it just about killed me, I am so glad that I did it. I realized as I hiked that surviving cancer, just like surviving the Summit, isn't about the end result--it's about every step along the way, it's about taking control of each day, it's about how you live and how you hike. And if you're lucky, like I am, you will have a loving, crazy, wonderful family to do it with you.