One Step Past "I Can't"

On Parenting our Parents and Flipping the Script

My parents are in Boulder after visiting my brother and his fiancée in Houston for her medical school graduation last week. They planned to arrive Friday afternoon, but a delayed flight and a missed connection caused them to get in late that night.

Before they arrived, I hired a cleaning woman to tidy up my 1BR apartment, even though I like to believe I keep it in good shape for a man in his twenties. This was actually at the request of my mom, who has spent hours dusting, Swiffering, vacuuming, Windexing, scrubbing, fluffing, and organizing during previous visits.

In the past, I’ve been judgmental, thinking of all the other things we could be doing with the precious time together; however, I realized and accepted that this is one of her ways of showing me she cares. She’ll always be my mom. She doesn’t see cleaning her kid’s apartment as a waste of time, but as an act of love.

While that may be true, I wanted her to be able to relax so we could just be together. Since I’m in a tiny unit, they’re staying in a hotel down the road. While it’s nice to not live on top of each other in 679 square feet, I miss the small, seemingly insignificant moments that naturally unfold when we’re under one roof and sharing the same physical space.

Huddling around the kitchen island and making Grandpa Skippy-like breakfasts of over-easy eggs on buttered burnt toast. Hanging gifted art pieces on the wall because I needed my dad’s touch. Spilling tea and hearing my mom laugh uncontrollably for minutes until her stomach begins to ache.

We saw each other Saturday morning before I headed out on my weekly long ride with my buddies, something they encouraged me to do, knowing I’ve been prioritizing building community here in Boulder.

They spent the afternoon at the farmers market, sourcing heirloom tomatoes and handmade trinkets, before we met at our favorite restaurant in town, Sherpa Kitchen. We caught up over steamed veggie momos and tikka kebabs and had the pleasure of getting to know our server, Babu, a Nepalese man with a gentle soul and inviting smile.

The following day, we gathered at my girlfriend’s to celebrate her daughter’s graduation from high school. It was nice to see our parents meet and interact for the first time. We ate cake as we made plans for the next day.

When my mom visited me in February, we attempted to climb Mount Sanitas via Sanitas Valley and the East Ridge. She struggled at altitude, on the technical terrain, and in my old hiking boots that were five sizes too big, so we turned around without making the summit. While disappointed, she was motivated and didn’t want to appear as an “out of shape old lady.”

So on Monday, we set off for Sanitas, this time climbing the back side via Lion’s Lair from Sunshine Canyon. This time my mom was in her own boots, but within seconds, she was struggling. And although she never wants to seem weak, she admitted she was working hard. Because her breathing was labored, I made her lead and set the pace. We navigated the single-track switchbacks through the ponderosa forest, stopping for selfies, mule deer, and more oxygen.

After nearly three miles and 1,000 feet of elevation gain, we were faced with a rocky scramble just feet below the summit of Sanitas. My mom took one look at the trail ahead and said, “I can’t get up that.”

“Yes, you can and you will. It’s right there, Ma”, I encouraged her. She followed my footsteps, used her hands and mine for support, and soon found herself on the top of Mount Sanitas, soaking in the expansive views of Boulder, the snow-capped peaks, the national forest, and the city of Denver in the distance.

On the summit of Mt Sanitas with my mom and dad on May 19, 2025

As she wrapped her arm around the pole on the summit for security, we took photos, high-fived, and hugged. “I’m proud of you, Ma.” We sat on the rock, enjoyed Picky Bars, and began our smooth descent.

This experience taught me that sometimes you just need to change your route. “Failure”, however you define that, is an opportunity to refine your strategy. That revised approach may mean working smarter, instead of harder—like taking a more gradual, rolling trail to accommodate your parents in their seventies.

The experience reminded me of the power of self-belief and the importance of surrounding yourself with people who push you to get the most out of yourself.

I don’t know for sure, but if I wasn’t there to guide her, my mom may have given up 20 feet after leaving the trailhead or 20 feet below the summit of a mountain she spent an hour and a half hiking. “I can’t get up that,” reinforced over time, becomes her reality, and not just while hiking. The words we speak to ourselves matter and we look for evidence to support our hypotheses.

The most important conversations we have are those with ourselves. The average person has over 60,000 thoughts per day. Over 90% of them are repetitive. Many are negative, but don’t have to be. So if there are chances to interrupt the pattern, reframe, change the inner dialogue, and act in a different way that contradicts our conditioning, take advantage of it. It’s not easy and that’s exactly the point. Check out the The I Get To Journal for more on this exact topic.

Our hike together was an exercise in patience. While I wanted to go at a faster pace, it was far more important to me to share the experience with my parents. There will be a time when my parents no longer call me, when my mom is no longer here to show her affection by wiping down my light fixtures, or when my dad is no longer here to express his desire to go to Sweet Cow for the third night in a row. When those days inevitably come, I certainly won’t be wishing I got in a slightly better workout during their visit in May 2025.

One of the best books I’ve read this year is Oliver Burkeman’s Four Thousand Weeks. In it, he criticizes conventional time management and the idea that it needs to be optimized. Instead, he challenges us to embrace our finitude, focus on meaning, embrace imperfection, and find joy in the present. The reality is that we are limited. We will never have enough time—with our loved ones or to accomplish all that we’d like to. Hell, we’ll even die with items on our to-do list.

So relax. Take the pressure off. You don’t need to optimize everything. You can’t anyway. And even if you could, is that how you want to spend and remember your days? Crippled with anxiety and overwhelm for the sake of “productivity”?

Time is undefeated. The only way to “beat” time is to make memories that time can’t take away—whether it be hiking with mom, cycling with dad, or simply sitting with the sun on our faces enjoying each other’s company without an agenda.

There’s no such thing as “quality” time. Time is time. As Jerry Seinfeld said, garbage time—eating cereal together late at night, laying around on the couch—is actually the best time. Forget chasing huge experiences. It’s all wonderful, if we so choose.

It’s beautiful that roles between parents and children swap as we age. We begin to take care of them, just as they’ve taken care of us our entire lives. But you’re never too old to step outside your comfort zone, climb a mountain for the first time, and rewrite the story you’ve been telling yourself.

Remember, sometimes the summit is just a few steps beyond “I can’t.”

“Whether you think you can, or you think you can't—you're right.”

― Henry Ford