Pushing the pause button on life

Emma is out of school for the summer.  Hallelujah.  We decided to celebrate by picking her up from the bus stop and heading off for a long weekend camping trip to one of my favorite places on earth.  Four days of exploring, 4-wheeling with the grandparents, mountain biking, lazy reading, trail running, tent napping, playing with cousins, rock skipping, frisbee throwing, creek jumping and s'more making was just what this family needed. The whole no work, no computer and no phone usage was the cherry on top.  I see the need for many more of these trips this summer.  Simply rejuvenating.

And thank you, Dave, for pulling out the iPhone to capture a few of the coveted moments.  Once again, for some reason or another, my camera didn't even make it out of the car.

Phrases

From an early age Dave nicknamed Canyon "Squawk".  Because he squawks... a lot.

When he was a baby it was simply an "ehhh ehhh ehhh" noise that he made constantly.

As he got a bit older and started learning a couple of words it turned into, "Mama, Mama, Mama"

And as he approached 16 months it turned into...

"Hod you (hold you), I sick"

and then, "I big nini (mini) puppy" a few months after he hit two.

It seems Canyon has always has a specific sound or phrase that he will repeat over and over and over again. He does it when he's nervous. He does it when he's sad. He does it when he's happy. He does it when he's hot.  He does it when he's tired.  Kind of like a broken record.

His recent phrases have taken a fun turn:

"I neber!! (I never)"

"Yeab me ayone (leave me alone)"

"I don't yike you (I don't like you)"

and his most recent one...

"I running away!"

Two year olds are fabulous, aren't they ;)

It's a good thing I love him.

The Century That Wasn't

On most long bike rides I end up with a theme song of sorts.  It's usually a random song that pops into my head that I hum, chant, and sometimes even belt out at the top of my lungs throughout the ride.  I've found singing helps distract me when I need a distraction from the pain of a steep climb, the terror of a terrifying decent or just tired legs and a sore bottom. It's weird but it works.  Last weeks century my theme song was "It's Only The Wind" by Billy Dean. Heh. Heh. So fitting. As was yesterdays theme song which happened to be:

"Every Storm (runs out of rain)" by Gary Allen.

And it's true.. every storm does eventually run out of rain.  Unfortunately yesterdays storm didn't run out until about two hours after they shut down the ride. I knew going into the ride that we were bound to get wet, I just didn't realize how wet!

As we began the ride Saturday morning in downtown Salt Lake it was a light drizzle.  Even though I was only in my bike shorts and a light long sleeve jersey I was plenty toasty thanks to the pace we were keeping.  The sky kept darkening and the rain kept coming down thicker and thicker but Dave and I still biked along talking and laughing and just enjoying the event.  About 10 miles in we noticed quite a few people were turning around.  Interesting.  About mile 18 we arrived at the first aid station and stopped in for a quick potty break (we were in a hurry at the start line and didn't have time) and to refill our water bottles. Looking back I wish we had just kept going because stopping allowed our bodies to cool down.  As we hopped back on our bikes to start out again we noticed that about 3/4 of the riders were turning left and heading back towards Salt Lake (most of them the elites) and only 1/4 were continuing on with the ride.  Dave and I made the decision to continue on.  There was NO way I was wasting a babysitter on a 32 mile ride!

After only a few minutes on the bike Dave mentioned that he was really cold and that maybe it would be best to turn around.  I convinced him we would be fine and the rain would probably start to clear up in a bit so we kept on going.  I still laugh about that.  Anyone who knows us knows that I am the overly cautious and practical one and that Dave is the throw-all-caution-to-the wind type.  I probably should have listened to him ;).  He has already sent several friendly "I told you so"s my way.

Dave and I have both biked in the rain before.  No big deal.  Buuut, as we quickly discovered, biking in the rain, wind AND the cold (45 degrees) is a completely different experience.  The rain, did not in fact let up, but got worse.  It started pooling on the sides of the road and we were forced to ride in the middle of the lane to avoid battling through 2 inches of water on our skinny bike tires.  A couple of big trucks took offense to this and decided to "show us" by barreling down the opposite side of the road with their horns blaring all the while spraying us with muck and cold water. Nice people.  I should mention these were rural back roads with light traffic and plenty of room for bikes and cars. I'm so glad no one got hurt.

The rain started pounding down so hard it stung.  And still.. I biked along with a smile on my face.  I'm not sure why but I was still having a blast.  I think it was the adventure of it all.  As the miles wore on I noticed that I could no longer feel my feet and my hands were so cold and stiff I could no longer use them to shift.  I was praying I wouldn't encounter a situation that would require me to brake quickly because I knew there was no way I would be able to.  Things got cold.  Really cold.

As Dave and I pulled into the second aid station we started to laugh between our chattering teeth.  We. Were. DRENCHED.  As we tried to walk along on our icebox feet towards the build your own hoagie station it became apparent our ride was at an end. No one was continuing on. The race directors were shuttling bikers to the front runner station so they could hop a ride on the train to return to Salt Lake. We would find out later that only 27 out of the 1800 riders made it to the third and final aid station and turn around point.  Crazy!

Right next to the park that housed the second aid station was a fire station. The fire department took pity on all of us freezing bikers and opened up their bay to us.  Dave and I sloshed on over and crammed inside with another 200 or so bikers.

Even though the heat was cranked Dave and I were shaking violently.  I've never been so cold.  The firefighters were awesome.  Some bikers were in pretty bad shape and the firefighters were going above and beyond to help.  They had no obligation to do so.  One firefighter came over quite concerned that I was too cold and led me along trying to find me a blanket.  All the blankets were in use though.  One biker we passed actually gave me her blanket (although I argued against it). The blanket was soaked.  Ha!  It's the thought that counts and I was touched by her generous offering.  The firefighter was still quite concerned (I couldn't stop shaking) and offered me a warm shower.  As delightful as that sounded I declined ;).

They were only able to shuttle 4 bikers at a time to the front runner station so there was a long wait ahead of us.  Dave called our brother-in-law and begged him to come rescue us.  And he did.. he took us back to his house (where our kids were) and we were hooked up with a warm shower, dry clothes and a ride back to Salt Lake.  I've said it before and I'll say it again but Dave and I have so many amazing and kind people in our lives.  So blessed.

As unforgettable and as much fun as yesterdays ride was I will admit, I'm pretty bummed we were only able to get 45 miles in.  I was all geared up for another 100 mile ride.  I think I was looking for a little redemption after the painful century from last week. I've been looking around for another century event that we can do but have yet to find one that will fit into our crazy schedule. Not to mention I'm starting to feel like a neglectful parent for leaving my kiddos so much in the name of biking.

Training for my first half marathon starts tomorrow though! I'm excited for that.  

On finishing last and doing hard things.

Last Saturday Dave and I had our first century ride of the season. Friday night I dropped the chickens off at the grandparents house while Dave was at work and then came back home to get everything ready for our ride.  Our alarm went off dark and early at just past 4:00 in the morning.  Although the ride didn't start until 8:00 we had over an hour drive to get there and still needed to pick up our packets and sign a waiver.  Dave insisted we get there early because there would be "at least 200 people in line".  Imagine our surprise when we pulled into an empty parking lot around 6:30 to find they hadn't even started setting up yet.  I teased Dave (a lot), we had a good laugh and then headed to McDonalds to take advantage of their flush potties and grab a smoothie.  We headed back to the high school, signed in (only 2 people in line) and I lounged in the car eating while Dave did some last minute bike tuning.  I like to be helpful like that ;).

At the starting line I was feeling strong and confident.  I had trained hard and felt like I was in the best shape I've ever been in.  It was a sunny, gorgeous day and I had nothing but miles and miles of open road ahead and Dave beside me. It was going to be a fantastic day!  And it was... maybe not the perfect day I was expecting, but it did end up being an unforgettable day.

The first 60ish miles were quite hilly and we had a strong head wind battling against us.  My legs definitely felt the strain but I still felt strong. I kept cranking along with a big smile on my face reassuring myself that what goes up must come down (it was a loop route) and that we would have a tail wind on the way back. It was a smaller event (only about 250 riders vs. 2200 like other events with only about 1/3 of those doing the full century) and had a more intimate feel to it.  I was able to chat it up with several other riders as we biked and at the rest stops. The rest stops themselves were awesome.  There wasn't much to them- just a shade canopy, a few volunteers, some jugs of water and some buckets of gus and chomps but because it was a smaller event and there was only a handful of riders at each stop at any given moment we were able to chat with the volunteers. They were all so encouraging and helpful.  I sure appreciated them.  I'm sure it was a loooong day for most of them.

At about mile 65 I began to fade.  I usually struggle around mile 60 so I was expecting the fade.  I decided to try downing a gu or bag of chomps every 45 minutes from the very start of the ride to see if I could avoid the fade, but alas, I don't think it worked.  I started to get discouraged.  We were still climbing with no sign of downhill in sight.  And remember that tail wind I was counting on?  The wind shifted so we were still battling against it.  Dave said it was the most consistent head wind he has ever encountered.  By mile 70 I was hurting.  By mile 75 I was slurring my words, shaking like crazy and freezing cold even though it was full sun and 85 degrees outside.  By mile 80 I started crying over everything. And I do mean everything- like a banana for example.  I was breaking...

There was another couple and an older man (who reminded me a lot of my dad) we had been leap frogging with most of the ride.  As we all got tired we settled into a pace line and all plugged along together.  It took everything I had to hang on to that line.  The older man (I never learned his name) was in suffer-fest just like me.  Although we barely said 10 words to each other (much to tired to talk) I bonded with him.  Nothing like joint agony to bring two strangers together. Another long climb finally separated our little group and Dave and I were on our own again.  I don't think words can express how hard that last climb was.  To make matters worse it became apparent that we were becoming the stragglers of the ride.  I noticed the aid stations were beginning to clean up as we approached them and the sag wagons kept passing with bikes hooked on the back and riders in the front who just couldn't go any further.

At the top of the last climb there was an aid station.  I didn't think I would be able to get back on my bike if I got off so I stayed put.  Dave, being the stellar guy he is, headed to the table and brought me back a bruised, overly ripe banana.  I cried.  And then cried because I was crying over a banana.  That banana was the first piece of real food I had had since breakfast.  Most of the real food, aka anything other than quick packaged sugar like gus and chomps, was gone at the stations before we reached them.  That banana meant everything to me.  It makes me laugh and shake my head in utter embarrassment now.  The volunteers tut-tutted over the fact that we hadn't been offered lunch yet and reassured me that we only had about 13 miles left and most of it would be downhill... finally.  Dave took off and I struggled to clip back into my pedals to follow him.  It was the weirdest thing, for some reason I couldn't make my foot line up with the pedal.  We had one more short climb and then a fabulous, fast decent for several miles.  It. was. glorious.  I only wish the decent could have lasted longer ;).  The last 5 miles were flat.  Those last 5 miles, man, longest 5 miles of my life.  I would check my Garmin sure that we had at least gone a mile or two only to discover we had only gone .2 of a mile. Thank heavens for Dave.  He was so encouraging and supportive.  I kept my concentration on his back and didn't think about anything else but following him.  It worked and somehow or other we made it to the finish line.

As we approached the finishing shoot most everyone was gone and they had begun to pack up.  Yeah.. discouraging.  There was one little boy though, around 4 or 5 I'm guessing, that was standing at the finish line.  He saw us approaching, looked around to see if anyone else noticed and then started clapping like crazy.  As we got closer he raised his tiny hand and gave us the best high 5 I have ever had in my life.  You guessed it... more tears.

We didn't have a lot of time to linger because Dave and I both had to rush home, Dave was on call with the ambulance and I had a shoot that evening but were able to stay long enough to see the rest of our little group come across. I was so happy we all made it.

I ended the ride in a much different frame of mind than how I started it.  Instead of feeling strong I felt utterly wasted.  Instead of feeling confident I felt deeply discouraged. I felt like I had given it everything I had but I was still one of the last to finish.  That hurt.  Stupid pride.

On the drive home I began reflecting on the ride.  Was I glad I had done it?  Yes.  Even though it was one of the most discouraging and painful experiences of my life I am so glad I did it.  It showed me that I'm stronger than I think.  It showed me that I can keep going even when I have nothing left.  It reminded me that I am the luckiest girl in the world to have such an encouraging and positive husband by my side. It showed me that coming in last isn't the end of the world. After all...

Dave and I have another century lined up for tomorrow and I'm resolved to relax, enjoy the child-free time with my hot honey and not worry about a finishing time or how I am doing compared to other riders.  I will simply be proud of finishing and thankful that I have a healthy and strong body. 100 miles and 7+ hours of biking is no small feat. Tomorrow I will enjoy the journey.  After all, that is why I bike, because it's supposed to be fun...  and so I can stuff myself with things like Trader Joe's chocolate covered peanut butter pretzels all in the name of carb loading ;).

I'm just hoping it doesn't rain too much.  Stupid "expect rain and wind all day" forecast.

Smiles and Freckles

Oh, how I love that big toothless smile and those shining eyes and freckles.  The only thing cuter is the slight lisp she has developed (thanks to the missing teeth).

Happy Mother's Day

Just think of this as a shout out post to all the amazing mothers in my life...

To my Grandma S.- who is an angel on earth.  She is love and selflessness all wrapped up in a warm smile.  I have never met a more Christ like person and strive every day to be more like her.

To my Grandma Dee- who taught me to come what may and love it.  Who taught me that laughter fixes more problems than tears and who taught me to let go of the things you cannot change and embrace life's simple pleasures like old John Wayne movies and a cold coca-cola.  Man... how I miss that lady.

To Becca: who taught me to whole-heartedly embrace life, nature and most importantly- family. Nothing beats a good ol' family camping trip.

To Paula: who has often dropped everything to help me out in a pinch and who has taught me that it's okay to say yes every once in awhile to sleeping in blanket forts in the living room and gummy bears on pancakes.

To my sisters (in-law):  who are on this crazy roller-coaster of mothering young kids with me.  I can always look to them for advice, help or a strong example.

And to my mom:  who has always been there for me and yet has gone grossly under appreciated at times.

I'm so lucky to have so many strong women in my corner.  I'm a better mother because of them.  I'm a better person because of them.

Happy Mother's Day.