We’re here at Muir Rock | 27 Months

“The mountains are calling and I must go.” – John Muir (also on one of Teri’s favorite shirts)

To my friends and family,

Happy Sunday!

I'm back to having a normal week after a long week of VBS (last week) and then going camping in Sequoia National Park.

For the first time since May 2017... I went to visit Muir Rock :)

Photos of me at Muir Rock last weekend

I really can't believe it...

I never expected that a big granite rock at the end of a long winding road would mean so much to me:

Still my favorite video of Teri that I've seen hundreds of times :)

For those that don't know, Muir Rock itself is a distinctive landmark deep in Kings Canyon National Park, truly out of the way in every sense. In May 2017, Teri insisted we make the trek to Muir Rock during our trip, and I’m so glad she did. I wasn't thrilled out the idea. What started as a cumbersome detour turned into one of my favorite memories that taught me a lot about patience. I've shared it before, but in summary:

• I judged the idea of going on the trip since it was out of the way/inefficient

• I realized along the way how beautiful the journey was

• I got to my destination and loved it (we got to take a nap on Muir Rock, no one was there)

Does this pattern happen to you? If yes, lets hear some stories in the comments. Or you can call me. Or we can do a podcast. Or you can come over for dinner. Whatever you prefer.

I even went ahead and bought the domain name not long after, though for years I had no idea what I’d do with it. Little did I know this blog (and our journey shared here) would eventually become its purpose.

This pattern in life seems to happen all the time. And I think it's happening right now with the life stage I am in, 27 months without Teri.

• Losing Teri right before all of our big plans (have a kid through surrogacy) is definitely as "out of the way" as it can get

• I'm slowly but surely realizing that I'm on a beautiful journey of rebuilding and remembering

But what's my destination?? Where must I go? What's your destination? I get it. The mountains are calling and I must go...

Yoga, Triathlons, and Embracing Solitude

My destination, at least short term, is just like all these blog posts....All over the place. TLDR: I have no idea.

What I do know is that lately, life has been teaching me a lot about slowing down. Seriously. I have some charts from Garmin below and an organized garage to prove it. At first, the new pace was driving me crazy and made me feel like something is wrong. YOLO. Especially after losing my wife. Gotta make stuff happen. Life is short. But I think I'm getting used to a slower pace. I am learning to find some balance.

If you know me, you know I tend to dive head-first into whatever I’m passionate about. Case in point: I love my Yoga Sculpt classes so much that earlier this year I spent ~50 hours doing teacher training and adding lots of unnecessary stress to a busy work week. Then for a while I was obsessed with going to core power, doing over 40 classes in February, sometimes 3 in one day. Meanwhile, I was also racing in endurance events, or at least trying to.

In my June Gloom post I even admitted that maybe I was “sorta over” racing triathlons . Waking up at 5am for long training runs and rides suddenly lost its appeal when I could be in a fun yoga class instead. Part of me was very frustrated since I am also good at judging others for not getting their life priorities in order. Improving in triathlon isn’t easy unless you really put in the time and structured effort, and I just hadn’t been doing that.

My "training load" this past year. Huge dip in the month of June.

Blue = recovery mode. Not ideal with a 70.3 on July 20!

So, here’s me being more honest with myself: I need a better balance. Yoga Sculpt classes has been amazing for my strength and social life (and sanity), but it feels healthy to dial it back now. I’m going to cut down to attending classes only a few days a week, instead of every day. And in those freed-up evenings, I’ll focus more on my triathlon training for the rest of the year. Mostly alone. Or at least with Mayo. This isn’t just about preparing for races, it’s about learning to be okay with my own company.

I’ll admit, the group classes are still a great way to not feel so alone all the time. It was almost an addiction at one point, as I'd be looking at my watch throughout the day, counting down the hours until I can leave and go to class. Walking into the studio and seeing the fun people I know can make me feel like I'm at home. But I don’t want to depend on that every single day. It’s time to practice being comfortable in the quiet, on the solo runs and rides, or even just taking a slow walk with Mayo around the lake. The stuff I feel anxious just writing about.

My therapist was actually on vacation this past month, so in a funny way the timing is perfect. I'm forced to figure things out on my own for a bit, sitting with the questions instead of racing to answer them. Slowing down, resting, sleeping in, all uncomfortable (to be honest it makes me anxious not to always be in motion), but maybe that’s exactly the point.

And you know what? I think doing “less” might actually help me more. Maybe some of you are rolling your eyes... duh Erwin, Teri and everyone else has been trying to tell you this the whole time!! I get it, I get it...

27 Months

July 2 marked 27 months since Teri passed away.

I've thought about Teri quite a bit during my drive alone to Sequoia and back. I wish she and I could have gone together. I still look forward to writing here and am grateful for the readers who encourage me to keep going.

I’m still learning to live with this tender void in my heart. To be honest, some days I still feel terrible. I'm especially thankful I don't feel alone, and there's people out there like Rachel Kippenbrock that can really empathize with me.

July 5, 2025 was her three year anniversary of losing her husband, Colin. I was really touched by her last Facebook post:

Three years since your accident and the worst phone call of my life. Three years ago I couldn’t wait to talk to you, so even though I had a little more work to finish, I made up an excuse to call you. But instead of you answering, it was a police officer. I asked him if you were going to be alright and my heart sank when he replied, “I can’t tell you that, but I think you need to get here as soon as you can.” My mind has replayed that day a thousand times; dozens of times today alone. Time does not heal everything. You’re still terribly missed and loved.

I met Rachel last October at Ironman California during a practice swim and am thankful we can message each other from time to time. Her story is a reminder that any one of us could get a phone call from a police officer with our spouses phone. And that grief really does not have a timeline. Time does not heal everything.

My mind has replayed that a thousand times...

I feel like I've replayed that last day in the hospital with Teri at least a hundred times. I will never forget the moment the doctor came in to tell us about her two options (emergency surgery or hospice care) to her taking that last breath at 1:30am. And yes it feels like yesterday. But I know that God has a bigger plan with my life than I could ever imagine. And I trust Him completely.

Renovating the Heart, One Memory at a Time

I'm also very thankful for Helen Garcia and her recent commentaries on Dallas Willard. I've shared some of her work here in the past. I really admire her recent work, so much that It has makes me consider a rebranding of this Muir Rock site and what I hope to achieve with it in the near future.

Since I haven't done podcasts in a while, I recommend checking hers out:

The "Question of the Year" for me that she shared recently is:

Who are you becoming?

At the surface level, I think most of you would give me a decent yelp review on how things have gone for me since Teri passed away. But deep down I know there's so much I need to work on.

I'm very slowly and deliberately reading Renovation of The Heart since the title seemed so appropriate for my life stage. Please read it if you are out of ideas for books to read so we can talk about It. I feel like my heart really needs a renovation right now. I don't want to keep making the same mistakes over and over again. I want to get to the bottom of my heart issues that has led to feelings of:

• Loneliness (resulting in wanting to meet someone ASAP and get married again)

• Discouragement (resulting in emotional / binge eating at night)

• Procrastination (resulting in unnecessary last minute stress)

On the topic of grief, here's one quote that really stood out to me:

There is a difference between turning loose your loved one and turning loose your grief. You will always hold your loved one in your heart, but you must let go of your grief. - Dallas Willard

This quote sort of came out of nowhere.

Grief comes and goes as it pleases, sometimes overwhelming me just when I think I’m doing “okay.” However, I’m starting to understand that healing doesn’t mean forgetting. In fact, I never want to forget. I will always keep Teri close in my heart; the aim is to carry her love with me while gradually letting go of the pain. I discovered a quote that captured this beautifully. It resonated with me because it allowed me to release the hurt without being disloyal to her memory. I can cherish her and still gradually let go of the sorrow. It’s easier said than done, of course. But I appreciate the idea that moving forward in life doesn’t mean leaving her behind. It simply means leaving behind the grief, bit by bit, so that what remains is the love and lessons she gave me.

This concept of moving forward isn’t new. It also somewhat relates to the decluttering phase I’m in. There’s a lot of Teri’s stuff that I don’t like but have kept because I have the space. Feeling okay about it going to a better home makes me feel better. And we can’t take any of our belongings with us to heaven.

Thank You

Thank you for reading till the end. It's now time to get out of "recovery mode" and go on a long bike ride to wrap up my training for the week.

Visiting Muir Rock and writing all of this out reminds me why I started this blog in the first place. The out of the way journey to the big rock at the end of Kings Canyon, taught me something simple and sacred: the meaning of a moment sometimes grows after it passes.

I’m slowly learning to live with grief not as an enemy, but as a companion that walks beside love. Some days are messy, still full of questions. Other days like today, especially after church, are bright and full of hope. But every day, I can embrace carrying Teri with me, not just in memory, but in the way I live, love, and move forward.

I hope none of you ever feel alone on the journey you're on. If you’re navigating your own mountain, your own grief, your own slow healing, I hope we can talk about it.

Oh yea, the question earlier about where I must be going because the mountains are calling... I guess I can try writing about it in my next post. Have a great week!

Erwin