Lesson taught, lesson learned.

“Life provides ample opportunity to test our mettle. When circumstances call for it, let’s give ourselves a break and ask for help.” 

― Gina Greenlee, Postcards and Pearls: Life Lessons from Solo Moments on the Road

Moments that teach my children valuable lessons are usually moments that come at a somewhat painful cost. Like today for instance, two of my boys went out riding their bikes barefooted. I told them to put shoes on but they only really learned the lesson after they both hobbled home with scrapes on the bottom of one foot. Before I even had to remind them that "I told you....," they were saying "I know, I know".

When I have opportunities to teach my children things they will need to know, I prefer to make the most of them rather than let the moment be wasted. Well, I had the "opportunity", the other day, to teach Samuel how to change a tire on a car. It's a lesson that I would prefer their dad teach them, but I don't know if that "teaching opportunity" would present itself with him so I felt the burden had fallen on me.  

To start off the day, I began to make breakfast but was short something (I can't even remember what it was now) and when I started to back out of our driveway, I noticed it felt and sounded different. I got out to look around and saw right away that the back, passenger-side tire was completely flat. "Ugh." 

So I headed back inside the house to call Kia's roadside assistance hotline but stopped myself short when I understood I was presented the perfect opportunity to teach Samuel something he would someday need to know. The weather, though quite warm, wasn't wet and we were at our own home. These circumstances beat being stranded on a busy freeway in the pouring rain. So, yes, I decided to show my oldest son how to change a tire (then maybe next time I wouldn't HAVE to be in the equation at all)

Some of the steps I had to learn as I taught, like how to lower the spare from underneath the van, and where exactly to jack the van up from. Did I say it was "quite warm"? What I meant is it was pretty DANG HOT!! By the time we got the hang of the jack apparatus, we were both dripping sweat and frustrated for no other fact than that it was SO DANG HOT! We made sure to loosen the lug nuts in the right order, but not all the way until it was ready to come off.

"Phew!!" Flat tire off. We noticed a large piece of metal (bigger than a nail or screw) lodged in the tire tread. That explained it. Now to put the spare tire on. I read in the manual that the tire went on "Bevelled side out". What the HECK did that mean? Bevelled....who says that?!! I had no idea what bevelled meant in regards to a tire.....so I guessed.

We managed to get the tire on, screw on the lug nuts, lower the van....then, and ONLY then, we noticed the tire stuck out a good four inches farther than the other normal tires. "That does not look right." I told Samuel. We were worn out on account of the heat and filthy from the dirty tire, but the reality sadly sunk in and we knew we would have to take this tire off and turn it around. Before jacking the van back up I tried loosening the lug nuts. All but one loosened right up. One was being stubborn, it acted like the child who, upon not getting the exact piece of dessert he wanted decides to fold his arms and plant himself in the middle of the floor instead of heading off to the bathtub. NOTHING I did worked in moving this stubborn piece of metal. I tried one last time. We attached the lug wrench, I stepped up on it, jumped, and "FLOOSH!!" it was off, I was down.

I knew instantly that something was wrong. The nut had flung off the wheel and part of the bolt was now lodged in the nut...broken off of the vehicle. Upon realizing this, I sat down in exhaustion and felt tears well up. I didn't want Sam to see me so worked up so I abandoned the project and left for the house. After regaining my composure, I called the Kia Roadside Assistance hotline and they suggested that I get it towed to a shop. They asked what dealership I wanted them to tow the van to; the one five miles away or the one I got the van from, 16 miles away. Although, I would've preferred them take it to the farther one, I was too exasperated to care and simply told them, "Whatever's closest."

Long story short, my dad came over, the van got towed, they couldn't get to it that night, as they suggested, we went to the dealership for a loaner car, they didn't have one, the next day they told me the tire was unfixable and for a new tire and labor it would cost me $144. I called Dad, Dad called dealership, yelled at them, we went and got the van, took it to trusted dealership and they fixed it all for $20. What should've taken half an hour turned into a two day affair.

So, yes, a teaching opportunity arose. I took it. Sam learned to changed a tire but the real lesson was one I learned: Ask for help.

First Vacation Race Under my Belt

Yes, it's been awhile since my last post. From finishing up the school year to moving into a new house to driving to Yellowstone and back, we haven't been without activity around here. The summer is in full swing and it is hotter than ever in the Pacific Northwest! However, much has been accomplished and now, I feel, is a good time to get back into writing. Since my last post was about preparing for the Yellowstone Half Marathon, I will start with an update on how that went.

"The best laid plans of mice and men often go astray" says Robert Burns. That quote is as true as could be regarding training for the race. For six months from January to June I stuck to a restricted no sugar diet. Not only no sugar, but no foods that act like sugar; potatoes, bread, anything with wheat, oats, corn. I don't know how it happened really but I stuck to it and didn't even find it difficult. Then, came the road trip to Yellowstone, and candy and other junk found it's way into my mouth and since then, I can't beat the addiction!! What does this have to do with running the race? It's to point out my state of being the week leading up to running 13.1 miles.

I had been eating like Cr@P and sitting in a van for many hours a day. But even much before that, months, in fact, I could not bring myself to train. The thought of running was as far as I could go. There was ALWAYS something better to do and it often involved doing nothing. I should say it involved relaxing, which, to me, is doing something. It's not that I was lazy. I was working full time, and then coming home with my five children and running was a hurdle I couldn't force myself to jump. I seriously ran maybe once every two weeks....max!! For a month I took a few rowing classes, so I wasn't exactly sedentary, but in reality for months leading up to June 13th, 2015 I didn't train to run a half marathon at all.

So after driving a day and a half we got to Glacier National Park and camped for two nights. Then we drove all day and arrived in West Yellowstone on June 10th. We ate, met up with my folks and my sister and brother-in-law, ate, saw hundreds of buffalo, ate, saw many wondrous geysers and hot springs, ate, sat around a campfire, ate....you get the picture.

June 13th rolls around and it's race day!! The night before I laid out my running clothes, wireless headphones, socks, shoes and hat so I would only have to roll out of bed, get dressed and go. At this point we were staying in a very nice cabin and my mom and dad together with my sister, Emily and her family were staying at another.  Mom and Emily picked me up and we went together into town where the race was set to begin.

I was mentally prepared for this race in spite of my lack of preparation and fear had no hold on me. Maybe it was ignorance that allowed me to have that mind set, I've never ran a half marathon before, in fact, I've never ran farther than 5 miles at one time and I really didn't know what to expect. All I knew is I have a stubborn disposition and if stubbornness alone is what it takes, then I was all set!

I got my racing bib, the timing chip that went on my shoe to accurately calculate my time and my race shirt. I checked my sweatshirt and wallet at a gear check table and then turned on my prepared playlist of running music. If nothing else, songs the like of, 'Eye of the Tiger', 'Rolling in the Deep, and 'Moves Like Jagger' could keep me moving. One thing I forgot, however, was to charge my wireless blue tooth headphones....so now I had no music. Stubbornness, alone, would have to do.

Due to the large number of people (okay, really due to my lack of experience and maybe a little bit of "blonde" tendencies) I lined up ready to go....in the wrong direction. I was getting in line toward what I assumed was the rear of the line where you are supposed to be if you consider yourself a slower runner but I was confused by the pacer numbers. Why are the shorter times toward the back? It was Emily who ended up helping me get my bearings straight.

The National Anthem was sung. The gun fired. We started out slow, simply trying not to bump into anybody. The crowd slowly began to disperse and I found a man carrying a full-sized American flag in honor of our country's vets. He was running the race and I figured I could keep up with an old man carrying a flag...on a pole. I stayed directly behind him for awhile. Before I knew it we came to the first tall vertical flag that announced what mile we were on. Mile 3. I was in disbelief! Was it really already three miles?  Three miles at home was almost quittin' time. My energy soared at this point. The mental boost was bestowed at that 3 mile mark and I knew then and there that I would do this just fine.

At mile 4 we had the first opportunity to get water and honey packets. It was the first time I stopped running and it was good to catch my breath, but only for a second. At this point I lost track of the flag carrying vet and had to find someone else to "try to beat". As long as I had someone I thought of as my competitor,  I had a reason to keep running. "I can't let her beat me!" This time it was Supermom, running while pushing her toddler in a stroller. There was no way my pride would allow myself to slow down now.

Miles 5-7 were uphill and nearly everyone around me began to walk, as well as myself. It was getting quite warm and my lungs were glad for the break. Walking uphill is the same as hiking....that, I was used to. Before long the path straightened out and I picked up my pace (only because Supermom kept trying to pass me up). The scenery was lightly forested, a small river meandered down it's rocky path on my right. At one point I realized the pacer carrying the 02:30 time was nearby. I was stunned. I had told mom and Emily to be back in three hours to cheer me to the finish line. Now I began to think I would beat them there.

I was grateful for the cold water at mile 9 and took extra time drinking from the rubbery clip on cup that all the racers wore in order to prevent litter. In that extra time Supermom passed me up and I began to look for another competitor. I found that in a pretty twenty-something Asian girl. No way is SHE going to beat me! Without even knowing it, she motivated me for the next three miles, until I came upon Supermom again. Seeing the mile 12 flag excited me the most. Almost there!! Yet, so exhausted. My heart and lungs never struggled with the thin, high elevation air as we were running at least at 6600 ft. elevation, but my legs began to feel like lead.

There were people along the way, Boy Scout troops, Girl Scout troops, volunteers, and locals who lined parts of the course to cheer on the runners, they will never know how their words of encouragement helped me that day. When I saw the 13 mile banner my heart skipped a precious beat. I could hear the crowd cheering and a voice on a speaker, but couldn't make out words. A tenth of a mile ahead I could see cars, flags, people, tents...I was so close. I picked up my pace in order to finish strong. I had to convince my legs that they could, and would move, like it or not. Asian girl and Supermom were not in sight but I was pretty sure I was ahead of them as I couldn't recall them passing me up.

A wave of emotion came over me as I could see the end. It was an incredible sense of accomplishment mixed with relief. I tried to sprint to the finish line because isn't that what you are supposed to do? When I watched the video of me crossing the finish line that was posted online in the following weeks I looked pretty goofy, like a child running to it's mother, arms flailing in all directions grinning from ear to ear. But oh, what a feeling!!

I did it. I beat my family who showed up ten minutes later to watch me finish, but the pride in my children's' expressions were priceless. My time: 2 hours 39 minutes.

I wore my medal with pride. I wasn't racing an American vet, or Asian girl or Supermom, I was racing myself, and I won.

P.S. The next day I think I discovered the real reason for training. I could barely move! My legs were revolting with pain and my digestive track was screaming at me as I was driving for 10 hours to Boise, ID.  I'll say no more.