You know, you’re pretty rad.

You know, you’re pretty rad.

That’s what he said as we stood atop Bear Mountain while catching our breath after snowshoeing to the summit. It was one of our first dates and he flew all the way to Colorado for it.

I chuckled aloud and paused.

He was probably confused by my pause, but what he didn’t know is that I secretly have always wanted to marry a guy whose last name starts with a “D” so that my initials would be RAD. He also didn’t know that I found myself excited about the idea of “D” standing for Dollard. But of course I couldn’t tell him this.

I smirked, said thanks, and then we galloped down the mountain, playfully kicking snow at each other with the tennis-racket-like things on our feet.

Snowshoeing led to more dates, many of which were held on mountains or in the woods. Six months ago we had a very special date with about two hundred of our friends in the woods of Cincinnati. I wore a white dress. He wore a blue suit. There were flowers and candles. There were vows and rings.  And that’s where I officially became rad.

And since the day on Bear Mountain and the day in the woods at Cincinnati, I have become more rad because of my favorite snowshoe partner.  Here’s why:

He asks questions — really good questions — that invite me to ponder significant issues in this great big world.  And that makes me more rad.

He makes me laugh until my belly aches, especially when he does his raptor impression [sorry love — it’s too good not to share]. And laughing makes me feel rad.

When I need it most, he gently suggests that I go for a run in the woods or to a yoga class. And if you know me, you know that I am much more rad after getting those exercise endorphins.

He kindly nudges me to spend more time with people and less with my introverted self.  And I am definitely more rad because of the people in my life.

He listens closely to the stories of my day, the dreams of my heart and even my requests on the “technology that needs attention” list. // website. kindle. car engine.

He brings out the silliness in me and helps me stay more balanced and lighthearted — like when he tries to see how many peanut butter M&Ms he can eat before I say something about the Red Dye 40 in them.  Or when he piles highly processed foods into the grocery cart and quietly chuckles until I notice and pull them out to make room for almond butter and beets.

There are times when he probably doesn’t think I’m so rad, but he trusts that I am and shows me grace. Over and over. And Lord, do I need grace. Grace makes me more rad.

Sometimes he expresses his love through practical gifts — like car phone chargers and computer batteries. And this is really rad because I don’t think about these things until my phone or computer is dead.

And so, my dear snowshoe partner, the next time we summit a large mountain [mt. rainier, mt.katahdin, or maybe Hvannadalshnukur] and you tell me I’m rad, I’ll smile and say,

“Yes, I am rad. And way more rad because of you.”

Happy birthday, you fun-loving, adventurous, rad man, you.