I saw this on a a picture today on Facebook: "I have puppies instead of children. I'd rather ruin my carpet than my life."
I love animals. I think dogs are amazing animals. They provide companionship and love for many people. I don't currently want one of my own, however, because I don't want the responsibility. (This may seem odd coming from someone with a good-sized "litter" of children, but it's true.)
The second part of the quote made me sad. I have four children of my own plus a step-daughter, and my life is far from ruined. In fact, it has been enriched beyond my wildest dreams. Although some of my own dreams have been postponed and maybe even cancelled because of my kids, the trade-off has been in my favour. Even when I thought everything I had worked so hard for was going to all but go up in smoke because I got pregnant in university, it worked out to my advantage. I was able to take courses I wouldn't have been able to fit in otherwise, giving me a French course that greatly improved my language skills (though they still have a long way to go), as well as an additional degree in Kinesiology that has opened up another world of possibilities. I'm sure there are many blessings that I don't even know about, and I haven't even included the obvious one - my beautiful son who brings me joy every day.
I realize that having kids is not for everyone, just as having puppies is not for everyone, but know this: my life is different, not ruined. It is a life of struggle as I try to raise kids to make the right choices, to make their mistakes and learn from them, to become a person they are proud to be. I give up things so that my kids have more opportunities. I hope and pray that they will learn to appreciate each other rather than criticize each other. I hurt when they hurt. I also rejoice when they succeed. I experience great joy when they sacrifice something for another person. I smile when they triumph over something that has been a hardship for them. And I cherish every hug, every kiss, every "I love you" that leaves their lips.
Definitely not a ruined life.
Friday, November 11, 2011
Tuesday, October 11, 2011
What I Like About You
In September, I was supposed to make a point of telling my husband and those I talk to things that I appreciate about him. It was something someone started to help women encourage their men. So many times we who are wives find the negative things about our husbands and point them out, but leave out the positive ones. Clearly this does nothing to promote a good relationship. (Incidentally, this was also a part of my marriage vows, so it was a good reminder to me to continue working on keeping them.) I have to admit that I didn't say the one thing every day that I was supposed to, but the idea was on my mind. Since I didn't follow through, and as it was just Thanksgiving and my hubby is definitely someone I am very thankful for, I thought I would make a list of 30 things I love about Darryl - one for every day of September. It is by no means comprehensive, nor is it ordered in any significant way. I don't think writing this list makes up for doing something on a daily basis, but it was a good exercise for me. :)
1. He cleans up after supper. I don't think he likes doing it any more than I do, but he does it anyway.
2. I don't think I have taken care of the garbage or recycling since May. Neither have the kids. Yet it always gets done.
3. His chilli is yummy!
4. He cuddles me when I'm upset, and is ok with "I don't want to talk about it" when he asks what's bothering me.
5. He takes Justin to the park to play.
6. He takes kids where they need to go.
7. He took Caleb out to shoot things for his birthday.
8. He takes Charisma shopping (and I know he doesn't like shopping any more than I do).
9. Dani has little "posters" that he made for her hanging on her bed.
10. He wrote a bedtime prayer just for Daniele.
11. He cares about what I want.
12. He tells me I'm beautiful.
13. He still gets distracted when I he's talking to me and I start changing. ;)
14. He does laundry.
15. He syphoned the gas from our old van so we could put it in our other vehicles.
16. I have never heard him yell (at least not in anger).
17. When we go to the beach with the kids, he goes in the water to play with them.
18. He is completely supportive of everything I do.
19. His sense of humour matches mine (though I'm not sure if this is really a good thing :P).
20. When the kids have games and concerts, he goes to watch - not because he has to, but because he wants to.
21. Day in and day out, he goes to a job he does not enjoy for less pay than he deserves in order to keep food on our table and a roof over our heads.
22. He believes that spending time is more important than spending money.
23. He gives me a goodnight and a good morning kiss every day.
24. He makes me laugh.
25. We can engage in some pretty good verbal banter.
26. We have been together for over a year and have never fought. Disagreed, yes. Fought, no. This says far more about him than me.
27. Mac over PC - he agrees.
28. He's not the jealous type. If I talk to a male friend, he does not suddenly become concerned that something inappropriate is going on.
29. He's an awesome dad and step-dad.
30. He loves me. :D
Tuesday, October 4, 2011
A Teenager in the House
My daughter just turned 13. You know what she was looking forward to the most? Getting Facebook. Not being a teenager. Not taking that one step closer to adulthood. Facebook.
So she got her Facebook account. Of course, I made her add me as a friend. Actually, to be more correct, I added myself as her friend. I was helping her set up her account, and there I was, so I clicked "Add Friend." I don't stalk her, watching her every move, but I do check in from time to time to see what is up on her page.
What I have noticed is that my little girl is growing up. Now, obviously I have know this for a long time. The girl is my height, has bigger feet than I do, no longer has a stick figure and has been borrowing my clothes for over a year now. We go hang out together, and have real discussions. But there's something different about watching the interactions between her and her friends. Seeing a discussion about whether or not a boy called her sexy. (I'm going out to buy a gun tomorrow, by the way.) Realizing that she is slowly but surely (and yet far too quickly) moving into womanhood.
It'll be an interesting few years, I'm sure. Fun, exciting, frustrating, scary. And on the other side, I'll realize how few the years actually were.
You know what else is scary? Now that she has Facebook, she'll likely find my blog. Not sure how I feel about that...
Happy birthday, Charisma. Love you.
So she got her Facebook account. Of course, I made her add me as a friend. Actually, to be more correct, I added myself as her friend. I was helping her set up her account, and there I was, so I clicked "Add Friend." I don't stalk her, watching her every move, but I do check in from time to time to see what is up on her page.
What I have noticed is that my little girl is growing up. Now, obviously I have know this for a long time. The girl is my height, has bigger feet than I do, no longer has a stick figure and has been borrowing my clothes for over a year now. We go hang out together, and have real discussions. But there's something different about watching the interactions between her and her friends. Seeing a discussion about whether or not a boy called her sexy. (I'm going out to buy a gun tomorrow, by the way.) Realizing that she is slowly but surely (and yet far too quickly) moving into womanhood.
It'll be an interesting few years, I'm sure. Fun, exciting, frustrating, scary. And on the other side, I'll realize how few the years actually were.
You know what else is scary? Now that she has Facebook, she'll likely find my blog. Not sure how I feel about that...
Happy birthday, Charisma. Love you.
Thursday, September 15, 2011
State of Mind
The other evening (Darryl could probably give you the exact day and time), I said something I don't think I have ever said before - "I'm bored." Darryl looked at me in shock, and I very quickly retracted my statement. "I mean I'm bored of Facebook."
"Too late," he said. "I'm writing this one down."
"I'm bored" is my "Top Three" list of statements that drive me crazy, along with "I can't." (I do realize that's only two - although counting is hard, I still know the difference between two and three. I need to leave room for another statement that doesn't come to mind right now that might annoy me more than those two.) "This is boring" is a variation that makes me almost as crazy. Perhaps you find it boring, but that doesn't mean it is. (Unless you are talking about staring at the computer screen for several minutes, just waiting for something new to happen on Facebook - that can legitimately be called boring.)
It is my opinion that boredom is a state of mind, and one that an individual is completely in control of. You choose to be bored. There are an infinite number of things that a person can think of, and probably almost as many that one can do. (The two sets may even have the same cardinality - we'd have to determine a few things first, and many of you would likely find that boring. That's ok. We math geeks know better.)
How many kids have told their parents that they were bored, only to hear back, "In that case, there are plenty of things I can get you to do - wash the dishes, clean the bathroom, clean your bedroom..."? My kids seem to very quickly become un-bored after hearing that.
Teachers hear it from students (or see it in their faces) many times. This is not only hard for the teacher to prevent, but the very nature of school makes it difficult for students to break free. I always did, but not always with the greatest results, and it definitely didn't promote others' learning. Once when talking to a friend in class, the teacher stopped and asked me what he had just said, which I repeated, almost verbatim. He quickly recovered and informed me that just because I could talk and listen at the same time, it didn't mean everyone else could too. However, although it may be more difficult, I still believe a person can choose to not be bored.
So, the next time you are tempted to say you are bored, engage your mind instead. I bet Da Vinci was never bored.
"Too late," he said. "I'm writing this one down."
"I'm bored" is my "Top Three" list of statements that drive me crazy, along with "I can't." (I do realize that's only two - although counting is hard, I still know the difference between two and three. I need to leave room for another statement that doesn't come to mind right now that might annoy me more than those two.) "This is boring" is a variation that makes me almost as crazy. Perhaps you find it boring, but that doesn't mean it is. (Unless you are talking about staring at the computer screen for several minutes, just waiting for something new to happen on Facebook - that can legitimately be called boring.)
It is my opinion that boredom is a state of mind, and one that an individual is completely in control of. You choose to be bored. There are an infinite number of things that a person can think of, and probably almost as many that one can do. (The two sets may even have the same cardinality - we'd have to determine a few things first, and many of you would likely find that boring. That's ok. We math geeks know better.)
How many kids have told their parents that they were bored, only to hear back, "In that case, there are plenty of things I can get you to do - wash the dishes, clean the bathroom, clean your bedroom..."? My kids seem to very quickly become un-bored after hearing that.
Teachers hear it from students (or see it in their faces) many times. This is not only hard for the teacher to prevent, but the very nature of school makes it difficult for students to break free. I always did, but not always with the greatest results, and it definitely didn't promote others' learning. Once when talking to a friend in class, the teacher stopped and asked me what he had just said, which I repeated, almost verbatim. He quickly recovered and informed me that just because I could talk and listen at the same time, it didn't mean everyone else could too. However, although it may be more difficult, I still believe a person can choose to not be bored.
So, the next time you are tempted to say you are bored, engage your mind instead. I bet Da Vinci was never bored.
Monday, September 5, 2011
My Labour Day Football Rant
I love football. I'm not talking about that wussy 4-down, 100-yd field stuff they play south of the border (though I have learned to tolerate the game). Real football, Canadian style.
I love the Bombers. For as long as I can remember, I have been a die-hard fan. When I was young, we would sit in my grandparents' living room, cheering the Blue on. My family all cheers for the Bombers. My sister used to record the games she had to miss because of work - off the radio. My aunts have season tickets. My kids cheer for the Bombers. Well, except that one. But that's another story for another day.
Every year on Labour Day weekend, Winnipeg travels to Regina to play the Riders in the Labour Day Classic. One week later, they come here for the Banjo Bowl (lovingly named for a comment made by our former kicker stating that people from Saskatchewan were banjo-picking inbreds, and the name stuck). The rivalry between these two teams goes about as deep as any can. For most people it's just a lot of fun. For some, it's WAY too serious, as will be seen.
As much as I love my Bombers, I know that the Riders are favoured on Labour Day weekend. Doesn't matter that our record was 7-1 and theirs was exactly the opposite. Doesn't matter that we have "Swaggerville" - the toughest defence in the league. We haven't won there since 2004. They're playing on home territory. Their fans are loud. Very loud. And to top it off, their favourite coach just returned home.
However, enough of the background. Yesterday, my Bombers lost to the Riders. As you may have guessed, I wasn't surprised. I was barely disappointed. We had to lose again at some point, and I'd rather it was now than in the playoffs in a couple of months. There are a few topics that have come up regarding the game, though, and I'll share my view here.
1) The Bombers fell apart.
They did. The offence didn't execute. Swaggerville was not there in full force. Our special teams were anything but special. Honestly, I didn't think Saskatchewan was anything extra-special yesterday, either. Yes, they had a few beautiful plays (hats off to Getzlaf for two beautiful TDs, and Dressler for a fantastic catch for another 6 points), but really, they simply played good consistent football, something we failed to do. Instead, our players let emotions get the best of them, and instead of playing in a disciplined manner, they slaughtered themselves.
2) The reffing was one-sided.
I didn't have the best view of the game (without cable, the best I could get was iffy online streaming through BlogTV - tsn.ca only covers Friday games), but from what I saw, this appeared to be somewhat true. There were definitely calls that should have been made against the Riders that were not. But once again, there was a lack of discipline on our side that will always lead to one-sided penalties. And it's not like we lost by a couple of points (the only way poor reffing can actually be considered a true factor). We lost 27-7.
3) Our discipline sucked.
Really, this is what it all came down to. As they said on CJOB after the game, you have to play the same way whether you are winning or losing. I'm sure that the Riders were throwing plenty of jabs at our players, both physically and verbally. I don't doubt that there were cheap shots and cheap talk that went unnoticed. But we all know how it works - the one who retaliates is the one who gets caught. For most of the season, the Bombers have either been winning or in a close match, and have kept penalties down to a minimum. But apparently if you combine an intense rivalry with a losing score, some of our players can't keep their heads on their shoulders. I know it's an emotional game. I know what competition can do to you. But if you cannot keep your cool, you have already beat yourselves.
Not only did our players beat themselves out there yesterday, but they set a terrible example to those who are up-and-coming. You don't like the interception? Body slam the guy who caught it. A guy gives you a cheap shot? Start throwing punches. Thankfully LaPolice doesn't take that kind of crap. I sure hope he can get the message to keep it calm through those thick skulls, because if we play the same way next week, we may as well start picking banjos.
I love the Bombers. For as long as I can remember, I have been a die-hard fan. When I was young, we would sit in my grandparents' living room, cheering the Blue on. My family all cheers for the Bombers. My sister used to record the games she had to miss because of work - off the radio. My aunts have season tickets. My kids cheer for the Bombers. Well, except that one. But that's another story for another day.
Every year on Labour Day weekend, Winnipeg travels to Regina to play the Riders in the Labour Day Classic. One week later, they come here for the Banjo Bowl (lovingly named for a comment made by our former kicker stating that people from Saskatchewan were banjo-picking inbreds, and the name stuck). The rivalry between these two teams goes about as deep as any can. For most people it's just a lot of fun. For some, it's WAY too serious, as will be seen.
As much as I love my Bombers, I know that the Riders are favoured on Labour Day weekend. Doesn't matter that our record was 7-1 and theirs was exactly the opposite. Doesn't matter that we have "Swaggerville" - the toughest defence in the league. We haven't won there since 2004. They're playing on home territory. Their fans are loud. Very loud. And to top it off, their favourite coach just returned home.
However, enough of the background. Yesterday, my Bombers lost to the Riders. As you may have guessed, I wasn't surprised. I was barely disappointed. We had to lose again at some point, and I'd rather it was now than in the playoffs in a couple of months. There are a few topics that have come up regarding the game, though, and I'll share my view here.
1) The Bombers fell apart.
They did. The offence didn't execute. Swaggerville was not there in full force. Our special teams were anything but special. Honestly, I didn't think Saskatchewan was anything extra-special yesterday, either. Yes, they had a few beautiful plays (hats off to Getzlaf for two beautiful TDs, and Dressler for a fantastic catch for another 6 points), but really, they simply played good consistent football, something we failed to do. Instead, our players let emotions get the best of them, and instead of playing in a disciplined manner, they slaughtered themselves.
2) The reffing was one-sided.
I didn't have the best view of the game (without cable, the best I could get was iffy online streaming through BlogTV - tsn.ca only covers Friday games), but from what I saw, this appeared to be somewhat true. There were definitely calls that should have been made against the Riders that were not. But once again, there was a lack of discipline on our side that will always lead to one-sided penalties. And it's not like we lost by a couple of points (the only way poor reffing can actually be considered a true factor). We lost 27-7.
3) Our discipline sucked.
Really, this is what it all came down to. As they said on CJOB after the game, you have to play the same way whether you are winning or losing. I'm sure that the Riders were throwing plenty of jabs at our players, both physically and verbally. I don't doubt that there were cheap shots and cheap talk that went unnoticed. But we all know how it works - the one who retaliates is the one who gets caught. For most of the season, the Bombers have either been winning or in a close match, and have kept penalties down to a minimum. But apparently if you combine an intense rivalry with a losing score, some of our players can't keep their heads on their shoulders. I know it's an emotional game. I know what competition can do to you. But if you cannot keep your cool, you have already beat yourselves.
Not only did our players beat themselves out there yesterday, but they set a terrible example to those who are up-and-coming. You don't like the interception? Body slam the guy who caught it. A guy gives you a cheap shot? Start throwing punches. Thankfully LaPolice doesn't take that kind of crap. I sure hope he can get the message to keep it calm through those thick skulls, because if we play the same way next week, we may as well start picking banjos.
Monday, August 22, 2011
Life with J, My Innovative One
I was enjoying my morning shower when I heard a knock on the door.
"Yes?" I heard some mumbling, making it clear that it was my 3-almost-4-yr old on the other side. "I'm sorry, sweetie. I can't hear you." Some more mumbling, then silence. Deciding that there was no crisis, I continued enjoying my shower.
A few minutes later there was another knock.
"Yes, honey?" I turned the shower off so I could hear better.
"I did it all by myself."
"What did you do all by yourself?"
"I put chocolate milk in my cup."
"You did?"
"Yes."
At this point, all sorts of images popped up in my mind, but I decided that any catastrophe that was going to take place had already happened, so there was no point in panicking.
When I got out, I thought I would survey the damage. To my surprise, not a drop had been spilled, and the milk had even been put away.
I have learned that I have a very independent and innovative son. Here are some of his recent adventures:
He can also load and play Lego Star Wars on the PS3 all by himself, including choosing levels and characters. I imagine if we taught him his password for Webkins, he would be able to get on there on his own as well. He has been known to escape the yard to go across the street to play at the park. Stools and chairs are tools to reach what others don't feel like getting for him (or in some cases, don't think he should have).
Yes, life is an adventure with him, but I can't think of any reason to have it any other way. After all, it's this kind of thinking that will take him places. Look out world...
"Yes?" I heard some mumbling, making it clear that it was my 3-almost-4-yr old on the other side. "I'm sorry, sweetie. I can't hear you." Some more mumbling, then silence. Deciding that there was no crisis, I continued enjoying my shower.
A few minutes later there was another knock.
"Yes, honey?" I turned the shower off so I could hear better.
"I did it all by myself."
"What did you do all by yourself?"
"I put chocolate milk in my cup."
"You did?"
"Yes."
At this point, all sorts of images popped up in my mind, but I decided that any catastrophe that was going to take place had already happened, so there was no point in panicking.
When I got out, I thought I would survey the damage. To my surprise, not a drop had been spilled, and the milk had even been put away.
 |
| All the mess that there was - just the chair that he used to get his cup from the cupboard. :) |
 |
| At camp when I didn't get him food when he was hungry. I think he went for chocolate chip cookies, but couldn't get them. Seems he decided that a box of Cheerios was a close second. By the way, when I asked him if he was sleeping, he said, "No, I'm dead." |
 |
| What I found in the kitchen this morning. Note the peanut butter lid on the counter, but the lack of the jar. I went on a search to find this... |
 |
| It seems that peanut butter tastes great right out of the jar. I took it away and made him a sandwich instead. |
He can also load and play Lego Star Wars on the PS3 all by himself, including choosing levels and characters. I imagine if we taught him his password for Webkins, he would be able to get on there on his own as well. He has been known to escape the yard to go across the street to play at the park. Stools and chairs are tools to reach what others don't feel like getting for him (or in some cases, don't think he should have).
Yes, life is an adventure with him, but I can't think of any reason to have it any other way. After all, it's this kind of thinking that will take him places. Look out world...
Saturday, August 20, 2011
Being a camp Health Officer is Just Like Being a Mom
1) They only come see you when they want something.
2) A Band-Aid can cure all.
3) By the time you have done what you need to do at mealtime, everyone else has already finished eating.
4) You go to bed every night hoping and praying that there won't be a knock at your door.
5) You know that the moment you close and lock the bathroom door, all hell is going to break loose.
The biggest difference? There are a lot more kids...
2) A Band-Aid can cure all.
3) By the time you have done what you need to do at mealtime, everyone else has already finished eating.
4) You go to bed every night hoping and praying that there won't be a knock at your door.
5) You know that the moment you close and lock the bathroom door, all hell is going to break loose.
The biggest difference? There are a lot more kids...
Thursday, August 4, 2011
Maybe They Should Have Done the Math First...
This appeared on the sidebar of my Facebook page a couple of times today: "Jennifer Lopez lost 32 lbs. of belly fat in just 1 month by following these 2 simple diet secrets." Usually I don't even pay any attention to those things, but since it came up at least twice, somehow it stuck in my head. Then I started doing the math...
I looked up some stats on good ol' J-Lo. She claims to be 5'6" and 120 pounds. So let's say she was 160 pounds. Now the "average" female is 25-31% body fat. If your body fat percentage is higher than 32%, you are considered overweight (depending on which chart you read). I've never considered Jennifer Lopez overweight, but let's go with 30%. (I would sooner think she fits in the "fitness" category, which is under 25%, but we'll be "generous" here.) 30% of 160 is 48 lbs. This means that she would have had 48 pounds of fat spread out over her entire body. And at least 32 pound of that was belly fat? I'm sorry, but I've seen her figure - her fat is NOT focused around her belly. So now she has 16 pounds of body fat at 128 pounds. That would put her at 12.5% body fat, which would mean all she had was essential fat. (Even a female athlete should have at least 13% body fat.) I've seen pictures, and she looks much healthier than that.
Now if they wrote, "Jennifer Lopez gave birth to twins and between the day they were born and one month after, she lost 32 lbs. from her abdominal area" well, I might believe that. After all, you lose about 20 pounds just giving birth to one child - within a few hours. So if you want to do what she did, go get pregnant with twins.
Oh, and by the way, if you want to lose 32 lbs. of body fat, it will take you at least 4 months, and it won't all be from your belly. But don't worry - you likely don't have 32 lbs. to lose there anyway.
I looked up some stats on good ol' J-Lo. She claims to be 5'6" and 120 pounds. So let's say she was 160 pounds. Now the "average" female is 25-31% body fat. If your body fat percentage is higher than 32%, you are considered overweight (depending on which chart you read). I've never considered Jennifer Lopez overweight, but let's go with 30%. (I would sooner think she fits in the "fitness" category, which is under 25%, but we'll be "generous" here.) 30% of 160 is 48 lbs. This means that she would have had 48 pounds of fat spread out over her entire body. And at least 32 pound of that was belly fat? I'm sorry, but I've seen her figure - her fat is NOT focused around her belly. So now she has 16 pounds of body fat at 128 pounds. That would put her at 12.5% body fat, which would mean all she had was essential fat. (Even a female athlete should have at least 13% body fat.) I've seen pictures, and she looks much healthier than that.
Now if they wrote, "Jennifer Lopez gave birth to twins and between the day they were born and one month after, she lost 32 lbs. from her abdominal area" well, I might believe that. After all, you lose about 20 pounds just giving birth to one child - within a few hours. So if you want to do what she did, go get pregnant with twins.
Oh, and by the way, if you want to lose 32 lbs. of body fat, it will take you at least 4 months, and it won't all be from your belly. But don't worry - you likely don't have 32 lbs. to lose there anyway.
Monday, July 25, 2011
The End of an Era
At my very first triathlon (a try-a-tri), after I registered I was given a wristband with my number on it, and also had my race number written on each limb. At the end of the race I turned the wristband in, but wore my numbers proudly for a few days, claiming I couldn't wash them off. Really, I just wanted to tell everyone I had completed my first triathlon. ;)
My second triathlon was a sprint distance. I still got a wristband and body markings, but now my black wristband had two little white tabs Velcroed onto it. I had to turn one in after the swim and one before heading out on the run so that I could get my split times. This way I knew how long each leg took. Although I didn't know it at the time, Kevin and Anita Miller were busy in the background, calculating everyone's time by hand.
A few years later, there was new excitement - a race (I believe it was Riding Mountain, but I may be wrong) introduced chip timing. Chip timing had been used for some time in the Manitoba Marathon, but this was a first for MB Triathlon. Goodbye to remembering little white tabs in the middle of the race. Hello more accurate results (or so some thought).
However, other things have come along with this technological advancement - lost times and slow time posting, for example. I'll never forget seeing a friend visibly upset after a Riding Mountain race because her time was gone. She had completed the race, but there was no record of it. (They were able to "dig" through the computer and find her results eventually.) I've seen times messed up because someone crossed the mat at the wrong time, and it was difficult to see what was supposed to be where. Oh, and if you didn't stay after the race to see your results, forget about finding out until at least a day later, because they simply won't be posted yet.
On the other hand, Kevin and Anita had results posted at the race almost instantaneous with the last person crossing the finish line, unless something went awry. Kevin came up to me at one race and asked me for my times (I had been keeping my splits with my watch). It turned out that they had a rookie in the timing crew and someone had pushed the button too many times, registering an extra time. Within minutes, Kevin had gathered enough information to find the false time, and they were on their way. No lost times. To my knowledge, next to no wrong results, and nothing that went unfixed. Oh, and if you didn't stay after the race to see your results, they were posted on the Tri MB website that afternoon (unless the Millers did not happen to have access to the Internet where they were - then they were up as soon as they did).
Kevin and Anita have been doing race timing for years. Years and years. Understandably, they are done. They don't want to haul the equipment around to every race. The challenge of getting accurate timing has been met so many times that it doesn't really present a challenge. They want to race, not time. Chip timing (though I can't say it's really better) is the new era. I get that. At the same time, I sure will miss the quick, accurate results that they have provided consistently, race after race, year after year. I'll miss the "human touch" of what they do. Thanks Kevin and Anita for your many years of service to the triathlon community. Job well done.
The only thing I won't miss is those darn little white tabs...
Tuesday, July 19, 2011
Consequence-Free Violence?
Last week I watched Slumdog Millionaire for the first time. I had known of its rating before watching it, but I was still somehow a little surprised when I saw the "R" after the movie was over. I thought back over the storyline and concluded that it must have been given that rating because of the violence and perhaps the little bit of sexual content as well. Then I wondered, "Why did the rating surprise me?" I quickly realized that I was comparing it to other movies, mostly geared towards tween- and teenagers, that in many ways are equally violent.
What made the violence in Slumdog Millionaire different than the impaling of the Green Goblin in Spiderman, or the many battles in Harry Potter? I don't know that it was any more graphic; however, it was more real. You don't watch the images of the Bombay Riots and think, "Oh, that could never happen." Maman disfiguring children so they are worth more to him as beggars (blind singers get more money) turns your stomach and makes you question how humanity can be so cruel.
On the other hand, many PG and PG-13 type movies are rated such for "comic book style violence." We're not talking about Spidey throwing a punch with a "POW!" in a balloon over the image, though. It has become full-on violence. And it is almost celebrated. Violence solves problems because the good guy always wins.
There's a line in The Incredibles that comes to mind here. Helen has gone to the island to save her husband, and the kids have stowed away in the jet. After the plane is shot down and they have made it to shore, she hides Dash and Violet in a cave, telling them to stay out of sight and not be afraid to use their powers. "You know the bad guys in the movies? Well, these guys are not like those bad guys. They do not care that you are children. They will kill you." Of course, the kids don't get hurt, and once again, the good guys win. When Syndrome is sucked into the jet engine because of his cape, it doesn't bring up much emotion. In fact, none of the violence really does. But the line is true of the real life bad guys - they really don't care about the children. They will use them, maim them or kill them - whatever suits their purpose.
Compare to Slumdog Millionaire when Salim kills Maman at point blank. Rather than an emotionless scene, I remember thinking, "What choice did he really have?" There was no other way to be free of Maman, though he swore he would leave them be if he spared him. Was there any way they could trust him? Not likely. The police were almost as corrupt as Maman, so going that route wasn't an option. It still didn't leave a satisfied feeling - more of an empty, hopeless one.
They say exposure to violence can make kids more violent. I'm sure there is truth to that; however, perhaps it is the almost consequence-free violence that is more at fault. The stuff that doesn't really happen except for in the movies. I'll be honest - I let my kids watch those movies. I am selective, though, as to which ones. There are many that my 10 and 12 year old kids watch that are still forbidden to my 8-yr. old. They get frustrated because their friends have seen movies that they haven't. Of course, I'm more ok with that than they are, hoping that when they are parents that they will understand.
Having said that, I made my son watch Hotel Rwanda after getting sick and tired of hearing him say that he hated his sisters. I decided he should see what real hate was. He wasn't quite 10 years old. The movie impacted him though. He saw that hate and violence were real, and the consequences devastating. I'm not saying we should all make our children watch such movies, but maybe letting them see little glimpses of what true evil can do rather than filling their heads with "fun" violence would do a little good.
What made the violence in Slumdog Millionaire different than the impaling of the Green Goblin in Spiderman, or the many battles in Harry Potter? I don't know that it was any more graphic; however, it was more real. You don't watch the images of the Bombay Riots and think, "Oh, that could never happen." Maman disfiguring children so they are worth more to him as beggars (blind singers get more money) turns your stomach and makes you question how humanity can be so cruel.
On the other hand, many PG and PG-13 type movies are rated such for "comic book style violence." We're not talking about Spidey throwing a punch with a "POW!" in a balloon over the image, though. It has become full-on violence. And it is almost celebrated. Violence solves problems because the good guy always wins.
There's a line in The Incredibles that comes to mind here. Helen has gone to the island to save her husband, and the kids have stowed away in the jet. After the plane is shot down and they have made it to shore, she hides Dash and Violet in a cave, telling them to stay out of sight and not be afraid to use their powers. "You know the bad guys in the movies? Well, these guys are not like those bad guys. They do not care that you are children. They will kill you." Of course, the kids don't get hurt, and once again, the good guys win. When Syndrome is sucked into the jet engine because of his cape, it doesn't bring up much emotion. In fact, none of the violence really does. But the line is true of the real life bad guys - they really don't care about the children. They will use them, maim them or kill them - whatever suits their purpose.
Compare to Slumdog Millionaire when Salim kills Maman at point blank. Rather than an emotionless scene, I remember thinking, "What choice did he really have?" There was no other way to be free of Maman, though he swore he would leave them be if he spared him. Was there any way they could trust him? Not likely. The police were almost as corrupt as Maman, so going that route wasn't an option. It still didn't leave a satisfied feeling - more of an empty, hopeless one.
They say exposure to violence can make kids more violent. I'm sure there is truth to that; however, perhaps it is the almost consequence-free violence that is more at fault. The stuff that doesn't really happen except for in the movies. I'll be honest - I let my kids watch those movies. I am selective, though, as to which ones. There are many that my 10 and 12 year old kids watch that are still forbidden to my 8-yr. old. They get frustrated because their friends have seen movies that they haven't. Of course, I'm more ok with that than they are, hoping that when they are parents that they will understand.
Having said that, I made my son watch Hotel Rwanda after getting sick and tired of hearing him say that he hated his sisters. I decided he should see what real hate was. He wasn't quite 10 years old. The movie impacted him though. He saw that hate and violence were real, and the consequences devastating. I'm not saying we should all make our children watch such movies, but maybe letting them see little glimpses of what true evil can do rather than filling their heads with "fun" violence would do a little good.
Sunday, July 17, 2011
It Could Happen to You...
You hear the stories. Some of them even make the papers. You know it happens, but you don't think it could ever happen to you. You are (mostly) responsible. You are attentive. No, you will not be so stupid. And then, it happens. You find yourself in unchartered territory, wondering what happened to all the race volunteers.
I am talking about running off course, naturally. This is my eighth season racing triathlon. I know full well that it is the athlete's responsibility to know the race course. Yes, it is the race organizer's duty to provide a well-marked course, but in the end, the onus is on the participant to know where to go.
Last weekend, I took the girls to Morden to race in the local Kids of Steel. I have a bit of a personal attachment to that particular race, since that is where I completed my first and only try-a-tri seven years ago (and placed first in the women to boot). It was there that I fell completely in love with this sport that I have competed in ever since.
Since I had nothing better to do that morning (in other words, Justin wasn't there to keep from getting run over, drowned or otherwise injured), I decided to enter my second try-a-tri and see how much I had bettered my time over the years.
I walked up to Darren Sunday morning and said, "I would like to enter the try-a-tri on the condition that my results are not posted." Why didn't I want them posted? Well, the race is designed for newbies as an intro to the sport. I'm not saying that they won't be fast - I was fully aware that I might get my butt handed to me - but generally speaking those who register are not what you might refer to as elite athletes. I wasn't there to race against them. I was there to race against my younger self. I even equalled the playing field (both between my "competitors" and my former self) by bringing my second best bike and not my tri bike. Jake is my cyclocross bike, and is not set up to be super speedy on the road.
We hopped into the water and the horn went off. After the hardest 300m I ever swam (don't be fooled into thinking try-a-tris are easy - you just have to push harder), I had a nice little lead. After the bike, it had become comfortable, even though I wasn't feeling particularly well (I blame the heat and the fact that I really hadn't taken in any water to this point). Oh, did I mention that I wasn't racing against the others? Well, not officially. I still wanted to win. After all, this IS me we're talking about.
Now all I had to do was push myself through 3km of running and I was done. I took my standard two cups of water at the first aid station (one usually goes straight on my head, the second I drink about half of and then pour the rest on my head as well). At the second aid station I called out for two cups of water, which the volunteer reached into the back of his truck to get. To my right I could see Rhonda and Naomi Kitchen crossing the field. I thought, "Oh, the course must loop around that way." I turned back to the volunteer, grabbed my water, and kept going.
*Flashback to two years ago. I'm on the run at Riding Mountain. I see a sign stating something like "Duathlon 2nd run Turn Right." I start wondering, "What do I do? Do I turn? I'm an Olympic distance triathlete. It doesn't tell me what to do?" I turned right. I all fairness, after two hours of racing, your brain doesn't always function correctly. Although I took the wrong course, I completed the same distance. I vowed to make sure I knew my course from then on.*
After about 25 metres I started thinking that the course didn't seem right. I thought about heading back to make sure but didn't want to lose the time, so I kept on going. I came to the steep downhill. "I didn't think this was part of the course." I kept going. I hit the golf course. The road was marked with race directions. I kept going. I saw a right turn and figured that must be where it looped. Golfers quickly informed me I was going the wrong way. Where was I supposed to go? Back. Ok. I went back. More golfers. "Which way am I supposed to be going?" "That way." "Past the clubhouse?" "Yep." Ok. I ran.
I reached the town. I saw markings on the road. I kept going. I reached Mountain St. At this point I knew without a doubt that I was NOT where I was supposed to be. After all, there were no volunteers handing out water, and I was long overdue. I saw a couple in a truck. "What's the fastest way back to the campground...by foot?" "Well, you go down there and turn left. Run through the golf course and it will take you there." Great. Back the way I came.
Off I went. Through the golf course, past the clubhouse, up the hill, down the path to the volunteer who had given me two cups of water. There on the ground was a white arrow pointing to my left, going around an orange pylon, both of which I had missed while focusing on getting my water. "Water please. And you forgot to tell me to turn," I joked. "Oh...I'm SO sorry!" "Don't worry about it. I'm only in this for fun anyway!"
On my way back I ran past a couple of volunteers who were directing athletes. "There you are! We were wondering where you were!" "So was I!" I called back as I headed toward the finish line. Yes, I was supposed to do three 1km loops. I figured my run would suffice. (As it turned out, I had run somewhere around 4.5 - 5 km instead).
Needless to say, I did not beat my original time (though I was only about 5-6 min slower). I had a good laugh at myself, and a good number of others got to laugh at my expense. That's ok. Like I said, it's all for fun anyway.
Oh, today I decided to redeem myself and completed a try-a-tri in Carman. I was appropriately ribbed about making sure I knew the course. But this time I did it right, and my time was considerably faster. Didn't come in first place though. That's ok, too. Another challenge for another day.
I am talking about running off course, naturally. This is my eighth season racing triathlon. I know full well that it is the athlete's responsibility to know the race course. Yes, it is the race organizer's duty to provide a well-marked course, but in the end, the onus is on the participant to know where to go.
Last weekend, I took the girls to Morden to race in the local Kids of Steel. I have a bit of a personal attachment to that particular race, since that is where I completed my first and only try-a-tri seven years ago (and placed first in the women to boot). It was there that I fell completely in love with this sport that I have competed in ever since.
Since I had nothing better to do that morning (in other words, Justin wasn't there to keep from getting run over, drowned or otherwise injured), I decided to enter my second try-a-tri and see how much I had bettered my time over the years.
I walked up to Darren Sunday morning and said, "I would like to enter the try-a-tri on the condition that my results are not posted." Why didn't I want them posted? Well, the race is designed for newbies as an intro to the sport. I'm not saying that they won't be fast - I was fully aware that I might get my butt handed to me - but generally speaking those who register are not what you might refer to as elite athletes. I wasn't there to race against them. I was there to race against my younger self. I even equalled the playing field (both between my "competitors" and my former self) by bringing my second best bike and not my tri bike. Jake is my cyclocross bike, and is not set up to be super speedy on the road.
 |
| Jake. He's speedy, but he's not a tri bike. |
Now all I had to do was push myself through 3km of running and I was done. I took my standard two cups of water at the first aid station (one usually goes straight on my head, the second I drink about half of and then pour the rest on my head as well). At the second aid station I called out for two cups of water, which the volunteer reached into the back of his truck to get. To my right I could see Rhonda and Naomi Kitchen crossing the field. I thought, "Oh, the course must loop around that way." I turned back to the volunteer, grabbed my water, and kept going.
*Flashback to two years ago. I'm on the run at Riding Mountain. I see a sign stating something like "Duathlon 2nd run Turn Right." I start wondering, "What do I do? Do I turn? I'm an Olympic distance triathlete. It doesn't tell me what to do?" I turned right. I all fairness, after two hours of racing, your brain doesn't always function correctly. Although I took the wrong course, I completed the same distance. I vowed to make sure I knew my course from then on.*
After about 25 metres I started thinking that the course didn't seem right. I thought about heading back to make sure but didn't want to lose the time, so I kept on going. I came to the steep downhill. "I didn't think this was part of the course." I kept going. I hit the golf course. The road was marked with race directions. I kept going. I saw a right turn and figured that must be where it looped. Golfers quickly informed me I was going the wrong way. Where was I supposed to go? Back. Ok. I went back. More golfers. "Which way am I supposed to be going?" "That way." "Past the clubhouse?" "Yep." Ok. I ran.
I reached the town. I saw markings on the road. I kept going. I reached Mountain St. At this point I knew without a doubt that I was NOT where I was supposed to be. After all, there were no volunteers handing out water, and I was long overdue. I saw a couple in a truck. "What's the fastest way back to the campground...by foot?" "Well, you go down there and turn left. Run through the golf course and it will take you there." Great. Back the way I came.
Off I went. Through the golf course, past the clubhouse, up the hill, down the path to the volunteer who had given me two cups of water. There on the ground was a white arrow pointing to my left, going around an orange pylon, both of which I had missed while focusing on getting my water. "Water please. And you forgot to tell me to turn," I joked. "Oh...I'm SO sorry!" "Don't worry about it. I'm only in this for fun anyway!"
On my way back I ran past a couple of volunteers who were directing athletes. "There you are! We were wondering where you were!" "So was I!" I called back as I headed toward the finish line. Yes, I was supposed to do three 1km loops. I figured my run would suffice. (As it turned out, I had run somewhere around 4.5 - 5 km instead).
Needless to say, I did not beat my original time (though I was only about 5-6 min slower). I had a good laugh at myself, and a good number of others got to laugh at my expense. That's ok. Like I said, it's all for fun anyway.
Oh, today I decided to redeem myself and completed a try-a-tri in Carman. I was appropriately ribbed about making sure I knew the course. But this time I did it right, and my time was considerably faster. Didn't come in first place though. That's ok, too. Another challenge for another day.
Saturday, July 16, 2011
Not As I Do
This is the email I would have sent the Winnipeg Police Service, except for the fact that they don't take complaints via email. I will be printing it off and bringing it in then, I guess.
To whom it may concern,
Generally speaking, I am happy with the police service that we have in Winnipeg. I am grateful that, for the most part, our police officers are out there doing their best to ensure public safety. However, I have become sick and tired of watching officers blatantly violating the laws (in this case, traffic laws) that they ensure everyone else upholds.
In May, I witnessed a police officer driving south down McPhillips, talking on his cell phone, and not with a hands-free device. I took the unit information down, but never got around to reporting it. I'm sure I still have it somewhere.
Last night as I was coming home, a police car made a right turn out of the Tim Hortons parking lot onto Hull Ave. There is a very obvious no right turn sign there (and I would expect the officers are familiar with the area). They were clearly in no emergency, for they continued down Hull at 40-45km/hr. They simply couldn't be bothered to obey the traffic laws that they would have eagerly ticketed anyone else for disobeying.
Today, a little over an hour ago, I was walking home from the park with my children. As I waited for the stragglers across the street, a police unit heading north on St. George approached the four way stop and turned onto Fernwood, without stopping. It didn't even resemble a stop - they only slowed down to turn. Again, it was clear that there was no emergency, as their was no sense of urgency in their driving. This corner is right by St. George School, and it is not uncommon for children to be playing in the area (as mine were at the time). It is bad enough that the general public does not respect the stop signs at that corner, never mind a police officer who should be setting an example.
I understand that there are times when the police have to break traffic laws in order to do their jobs; however, in none of these situations was that the case. Rather, those who should be setting the best example are setting the worst. It certainly does not bring respect upon the profession by those who witness them.
Although (sadly) I don't expect that anything will be done about any of these situations, please inform your officers that they are there to not only ensure others obey the law, but to set an example through their own actions. It frustrates me that I have to witness this disrespect for the law, and am more or less incapable of doing anything besides write this email. I would hate to think we live with a "do as I say, not as I do" law enforcement team.
Thank you for your time.
To whom it may concern,
Generally speaking, I am happy with the police service that we have in Winnipeg. I am grateful that, for the most part, our police officers are out there doing their best to ensure public safety. However, I have become sick and tired of watching officers blatantly violating the laws (in this case, traffic laws) that they ensure everyone else upholds.
In May, I witnessed a police officer driving south down McPhillips, talking on his cell phone, and not with a hands-free device. I took the unit information down, but never got around to reporting it. I'm sure I still have it somewhere.
Last night as I was coming home, a police car made a right turn out of the Tim Hortons parking lot onto Hull Ave. There is a very obvious no right turn sign there (and I would expect the officers are familiar with the area). They were clearly in no emergency, for they continued down Hull at 40-45km/hr. They simply couldn't be bothered to obey the traffic laws that they would have eagerly ticketed anyone else for disobeying.
Today, a little over an hour ago, I was walking home from the park with my children. As I waited for the stragglers across the street, a police unit heading north on St. George approached the four way stop and turned onto Fernwood, without stopping. It didn't even resemble a stop - they only slowed down to turn. Again, it was clear that there was no emergency, as their was no sense of urgency in their driving. This corner is right by St. George School, and it is not uncommon for children to be playing in the area (as mine were at the time). It is bad enough that the general public does not respect the stop signs at that corner, never mind a police officer who should be setting an example.
I understand that there are times when the police have to break traffic laws in order to do their jobs; however, in none of these situations was that the case. Rather, those who should be setting the best example are setting the worst. It certainly does not bring respect upon the profession by those who witness them.
Although (sadly) I don't expect that anything will be done about any of these situations, please inform your officers that they are there to not only ensure others obey the law, but to set an example through their own actions. It frustrates me that I have to witness this disrespect for the law, and am more or less incapable of doing anything besides write this email. I would hate to think we live with a "do as I say, not as I do" law enforcement team.
Thank you for your time.
Sunday, June 26, 2011
Running the Race - Triathlon and Life
I've said it before - I love triathlon. I ran another one today. I ventured into the Olympic distance two races earlier in the season than I usually do. I don't know why I did, exactly. It just seemed like the thing to do at the time I was registering.
An Olympic distance triathlon is composed of a 1500m swim, 40km bike and a 10km run. As the name would suggest, it is the same distance that is run in the Olympics. Of course, the big difference is that they do it a LOT faster than I do. Finishing a triathlon is an accomplishment. For me, the Olympic distance takes about three hours. The 10k run at the end of the Olympic distance is not an easy one for me. But it is so good to get to the end and be able to say, "I finished. And I gave my all."
I normally start my season off with three Sprint races (half the distances), and seriously considered dropping down today. Then one of my teammates rolled her ankle and needed asked if someone would do a relay with her, running the 10km at the end. I asked my hubby and he jumped in. I made some comment about how I would have to see if I could come out far enough ahead of Kathryn to beat the two of them, and suddenly there was no way I was switching races. Now it was a competition.
It was a good race. Good weather. Good people. It had its more negative moments, the first 20km of the bike, for example - all against wind. There was one fellow competitor who didn't seem to understand the rule of having to drop out of someone's draft zone before attempting to pass them again. When I mentioned to her that she had to, as she could get nailed for drafting (a 2-min penalty), she got quite defensive. As much as it irritated me that she did it, I knew it wasn't going to affect my placing any - anyone who is close to my bike time is a faster runner. I just thought she should know. Other than that, I had a wonderful time.
I loved the run today. I never ran more than 500m without getting some sort of encouragement from someone, whether it was the volunteers, some fans along the way, or fellow competitors. It felt so good to know so many were cheering for me. I do the same. I have always enjoyed encouraging other racers during this final leg, whether they are ahead or behind. It just feels good.
For years, I had one goal in my races - to see Pat Peacock crack a smile. Pat's my former triathlon coach and current swim coach. And the top male age group athlete in the province. The man is FAST. Two weeks ago, we were both racing in the first triathlon of the season. I have started wearing Vibram Five Fingers runners, and Pat likes to tease me a little about them. He made a good-natured comment as he raced by me, complete with a smile. Afterwards I told him of my goal and thanked him for helping me reach it. Today when we met on the run, he flashed the biggest smile ever. I think that was the moment of my race in many ways, for in a way it embodied the spirit of the whole event - helping other athletes reach their goals (even their silly ones).
I asked Darryl, rather rhetorically I suppose, why I do this to myself. Three hours of racing takes a lot out of a person. He responded that I liked the competitive aspect of it, and that triathlon meets me at a level I can compete at. That is definitely a big part of it.
Then I read his blurb of the day (he emails me every day with his thoughts on a given topic). He talked about the atmosphere in a race, how it was encouraging, how you could talk to people, and how you went out to do your best knowing there were people behind you. Yup, that's why I do it.
He also asked why we don't get that same feeling at church. On the one hand, I know that there are people in my home church as well as in the global church who are there, cheering me on to reach my goals (though they don't ever seem to ask what they are, nor do we tend to set spiritual goals). On the other, there have been many Sundays that I have walked in and out of my home church without having anyone come up to say hello. You know, that would never happen at a race. I could not possibly show up, race and leave without not only one, but tens of people talking to me, encouraging me. I don't think anyone could. Newbies show up and have several people who seek to help them make sure they know what to do, where to go, and cheer them towards the finish line.
In the Bible, Paul speaks of running the race - living the Christian life. I'm not here to knock my fellow believers, but let's learn from this. Let's challenge each other, encourage each other. Let's be each other's cheering sections. Let's stand by each other so that at the end, each one can say, "I have finished the race. And I gave my all."
An Olympic distance triathlon is composed of a 1500m swim, 40km bike and a 10km run. As the name would suggest, it is the same distance that is run in the Olympics. Of course, the big difference is that they do it a LOT faster than I do. Finishing a triathlon is an accomplishment. For me, the Olympic distance takes about three hours. The 10k run at the end of the Olympic distance is not an easy one for me. But it is so good to get to the end and be able to say, "I finished. And I gave my all."
I normally start my season off with three Sprint races (half the distances), and seriously considered dropping down today. Then one of my teammates rolled her ankle and needed asked if someone would do a relay with her, running the 10km at the end. I asked my hubby and he jumped in. I made some comment about how I would have to see if I could come out far enough ahead of Kathryn to beat the two of them, and suddenly there was no way I was switching races. Now it was a competition.
It was a good race. Good weather. Good people. It had its more negative moments, the first 20km of the bike, for example - all against wind. There was one fellow competitor who didn't seem to understand the rule of having to drop out of someone's draft zone before attempting to pass them again. When I mentioned to her that she had to, as she could get nailed for drafting (a 2-min penalty), she got quite defensive. As much as it irritated me that she did it, I knew it wasn't going to affect my placing any - anyone who is close to my bike time is a faster runner. I just thought she should know. Other than that, I had a wonderful time.
I loved the run today. I never ran more than 500m without getting some sort of encouragement from someone, whether it was the volunteers, some fans along the way, or fellow competitors. It felt so good to know so many were cheering for me. I do the same. I have always enjoyed encouraging other racers during this final leg, whether they are ahead or behind. It just feels good.
For years, I had one goal in my races - to see Pat Peacock crack a smile. Pat's my former triathlon coach and current swim coach. And the top male age group athlete in the province. The man is FAST. Two weeks ago, we were both racing in the first triathlon of the season. I have started wearing Vibram Five Fingers runners, and Pat likes to tease me a little about them. He made a good-natured comment as he raced by me, complete with a smile. Afterwards I told him of my goal and thanked him for helping me reach it. Today when we met on the run, he flashed the biggest smile ever. I think that was the moment of my race in many ways, for in a way it embodied the spirit of the whole event - helping other athletes reach their goals (even their silly ones).
I asked Darryl, rather rhetorically I suppose, why I do this to myself. Three hours of racing takes a lot out of a person. He responded that I liked the competitive aspect of it, and that triathlon meets me at a level I can compete at. That is definitely a big part of it.
Then I read his blurb of the day (he emails me every day with his thoughts on a given topic). He talked about the atmosphere in a race, how it was encouraging, how you could talk to people, and how you went out to do your best knowing there were people behind you. Yup, that's why I do it.
He also asked why we don't get that same feeling at church. On the one hand, I know that there are people in my home church as well as in the global church who are there, cheering me on to reach my goals (though they don't ever seem to ask what they are, nor do we tend to set spiritual goals). On the other, there have been many Sundays that I have walked in and out of my home church without having anyone come up to say hello. You know, that would never happen at a race. I could not possibly show up, race and leave without not only one, but tens of people talking to me, encouraging me. I don't think anyone could. Newbies show up and have several people who seek to help them make sure they know what to do, where to go, and cheer them towards the finish line.
In the Bible, Paul speaks of running the race - living the Christian life. I'm not here to knock my fellow believers, but let's learn from this. Let's challenge each other, encourage each other. Let's be each other's cheering sections. Let's stand by each other so that at the end, each one can say, "I have finished the race. And I gave my all."
Tuesday, June 21, 2011
Compare and Contrast
Two weekends ago, Caleb and I went out to the Niverville fair. (Special thanks to Ignite107 for sending us.) If you ever have the chance, go. You wouldn't expect it, but those Mennos know how to throw a party. Good times. :)
We went on Friday evening and checked out as much of the fair as we could. Between Caleb and me (though mostly Caleb), we came home with five "stuffies" (funded by Mom, of course). We went on a few rides. We caught Matt Falk and Brian "Head" Welch. Yup, good times.
Our favourite ride (out of the two we actually went on :P) was Spin-Out. This ride goes round and round and upside-down. Caleb convinced me to go on. I wasn't sure this was a good idea at my age, but he insisted, so I appeased him. We got locked in and all I could think was, "I hope I don't puke." It started spinning and were turned on our sides. Every muscle in my body tensed, fighting the forces that were pulling me out of my seat and into the harness. And then, for some reason, my whole body relaxed. I still don't know if it was a conscious decision or not, but regardless, it happened. Suddenly the whole ride took on new meaning. I closed my eyes and felt like I was flying. I was almost overcome by a blissful feeling. Even though I was completely strapped in, I felt free.
We went on this ride three times. After that, we only had enough tickets for one person to go, so Caleb went on by himself as my friend (who had joined us) and I watched from the side. I wish I had pictures. Caleb did exactly what I had done. I had told him about it, and he was doing the same. When I could see him, he looked like he was in a state of nirvana, so completely free to move with the ride. Beside him was a guy enjoying the ride like every other person on there - screaming and with muscles engaged. There was such a stark difference between the two - both revelling in the experience, but doing so in very opposite ways. I can still see it in my mind. I wish I could show it.
Our (almost) final fair adventure was watching Brian "Head" Welch, formerly of Korn. Perhaps it was the U2 that they played before the show, or maybe it was the fact that they were the last show I saw, that prompted me to compare the two. He was playing to a much smaller crowd. I tried to estimate the numbers, but despite my mathematical skills, I'm not very good at that. It had the "small show" feeling. The lights were basic. The mosh pit moshed, with little concern as to what was going on on stage, other than the fact that music they loved was being played. Although I know that many were there for love of Brian Welch, I did not get the same "band worship" feeling. The lyrics of "Save Me from Myself" were powerful, especially as Head dropped to his knees and screamed, "Father! Thank You! Father! I live for You now! Oh my God, I live for You now!" I was overcome by awe as I could feel the appreciation and adoration he exhibited. Sure, he was there to put on a show, but he was also there for so much more.
Compare that to the spectacle of U2. The worship of their followers. The escorting of Bono et al. on and off the stage. The sense that they were better than life. This was good. It was real. He was real. Just another guy, doing what he likes to do. I'd go again. I'd even pay.
We went on Friday evening and checked out as much of the fair as we could. Between Caleb and me (though mostly Caleb), we came home with five "stuffies" (funded by Mom, of course). We went on a few rides. We caught Matt Falk and Brian "Head" Welch. Yup, good times.
Our favourite ride (out of the two we actually went on :P) was Spin-Out. This ride goes round and round and upside-down. Caleb convinced me to go on. I wasn't sure this was a good idea at my age, but he insisted, so I appeased him. We got locked in and all I could think was, "I hope I don't puke." It started spinning and were turned on our sides. Every muscle in my body tensed, fighting the forces that were pulling me out of my seat and into the harness. And then, for some reason, my whole body relaxed. I still don't know if it was a conscious decision or not, but regardless, it happened. Suddenly the whole ride took on new meaning. I closed my eyes and felt like I was flying. I was almost overcome by a blissful feeling. Even though I was completely strapped in, I felt free.
We went on this ride three times. After that, we only had enough tickets for one person to go, so Caleb went on by himself as my friend (who had joined us) and I watched from the side. I wish I had pictures. Caleb did exactly what I had done. I had told him about it, and he was doing the same. When I could see him, he looked like he was in a state of nirvana, so completely free to move with the ride. Beside him was a guy enjoying the ride like every other person on there - screaming and with muscles engaged. There was such a stark difference between the two - both revelling in the experience, but doing so in very opposite ways. I can still see it in my mind. I wish I could show it.
 |
| The light show was a little less spectacular than U2. |
Our (almost) final fair adventure was watching Brian "Head" Welch, formerly of Korn. Perhaps it was the U2 that they played before the show, or maybe it was the fact that they were the last show I saw, that prompted me to compare the two. He was playing to a much smaller crowd. I tried to estimate the numbers, but despite my mathematical skills, I'm not very good at that. It had the "small show" feeling. The lights were basic. The mosh pit moshed, with little concern as to what was going on on stage, other than the fact that music they loved was being played. Although I know that many were there for love of Brian Welch, I did not get the same "band worship" feeling. The lyrics of "Save Me from Myself" were powerful, especially as Head dropped to his knees and screamed, "Father! Thank You! Father! I live for You now! Oh my God, I live for You now!" I was overcome by awe as I could feel the appreciation and adoration he exhibited. Sure, he was there to put on a show, but he was also there for so much more.
 |
| That's Brian Welch. I think. :P |
Monday, May 30, 2011
U2 - The Spectacle and the Thoughts
 |
| The Fray on screen |
So we saw U2 last night. I wouldn't call myself a diehard U2 fan, but I have always appreciated them and very much enjoy their music, so when I heard that they were coming, I asked Darryl if he wanted to go. I'm not sure how much he did, but he got tickets. And not just cheap seats, either. These cost more than I would ever pay for something of the like. There were several times when he asked if we should sell them to help pay for the wedding, but I balked at the suggestion. Part of me agreed with him that this wasn't a fiscally responsible decision, but another, supposedly bigger part wanted to see what a U2 concert was like. I figured it was bound to be spectacular.
 |
| "The Claw" |
 |
| The Fray |
Spectacular it was. I wouldn't even know where to begin describing it all, and I'm sure that the journalists who have written it up for the local papers have done a better job than I could, so if you didn't go and are curious, go there. There were a few thoughts that struck me over the course of the show, however, and I will share these.
 |
| Buzzed |
Why bother with a light show in an outdoor concert during daylight hours? The Fray played for the first hour with lights going the whole time. There's no real effect, and think of the money/power you could save.
Between The Fray and U2, the jumbo (and I mean jumbo) screen was firing off statistics. One had to do with barrels of oil. Darryl commented, "I wonder if they'll say how many barrels it took to power all the semis that hauled the show here." This hit a bit of a chord with me. Here they are proclaiming the amount of oil we use and the number of days until (they think) the oil resources will be depleted, and they are using somewhere around 100 trucks (from what I heard) to haul all their equipment from one place to another.
Why do people spend obscene amounts of money on a ticket to watch a band, and then proceed to spend even more obscene amounts on beer to get so drunk they'll barely remember the show the next day?
Why don't people make sure their facts are straight, especially if they are going to put them up on a screen for thousands of people to see? Winipeg? Really? (Maybe Whinipeg...) The state of Manitoba? At least Bono corrected the spelling error, joking that perhaps the person typing it in had too much wine last night.
 |
| Oops |
 |
| Double oops! |
Where do you look? Anyone who has been at something like this understands the dilemma. The lights, the screens, the crowd, the band. So much to take in. Honestly, I prefer the intimate setting where I can close my eyes and feel the music without thinking that I'm missing something, but that's not what we paid to see. Wouldn't that be neat though? To have U2 in Winnipeg for a few weeks, playing small cozy shows. No huge crews. No fancy light show. No, not going to happen, but wow. That would be incredible.
What draws people to the famous? I have never been one to get caught up in celebrities. I have always had the viewpoint that they are just people like everybody else. Yet if Bono walked one direction, the entire pit crowd shuffled that way to get a better picture. People clamoured for the flowers he threw out into the crowd, and they'll hold onto them just because he threw them out. If he said, "Put your hands up!" the crowd obeyed. I will not claim to have never gotten caught up in a crowd mentality. I definitely have, and I know the feeling that comes along with it. I get that. 
People so star-struck that they would have given almost anything to be the person that got hauled up onto the stage by Bono (though I do admit, that would have been rather cool).  |
| Yep, lights on the mic and jacket |
 |
| The screen - it expanded down. Crazy. |
 |
| The cell phone light show |
Was the show worth it? As I said, it was spectacular. The amount of money that they put into making it what it was likely necessitated the ticket price, so in that sense, absolutely. Would I pay that kind of money to go again? I can't say I would. Do I regret going? Not for a second. I will likely never again see anything of that magnitude. It truly was incredible. The toast to Amnesty International was touching, and speaks to the heart of U2. I appreciate that. Besides, now I'll always be able to say I was there.
 |
| Goodbye! |
Sunday, April 24, 2011
The Eye of the Beholder
I remember reading Worthless Women and the Men Who Make Them and thinking how fortunate I am to have the man I do. He's a good man. He works hard, he's trustworthy, he's loving. These are all fantastic qualities that I do not take for granted. But there is something else that sets him apart. He makes me feel beautiful.
I once wrote about the opposite - how I had been made to feel ugly as a kid. In that post I mentioned the first time I remember being told I was beautiful. It's a powerful statement to hear. There's something about it that goes deep. It goes beyond "cute," "pretty" or even "hot." It is the heart-longing of every woman to be found beautiful.
Darryl has spoken these words to me often. When I'm all done up to go out. When we are just sitting and relaxing. When he has seen me first thing in the morning, in all my bedhead glory. "Wow. You're so beautiful." Every time, his words astound me. Some times more than others, naturally. I'll be honest - when he I've just come in from a 2-hr. run, the words make me chuckle. Not because I question his sincerity, but because they seem out of place, which I suppose makes me believe him all the more.
Society bombards us with their own idea of beauty. All you have to do is stand in line at the grocery store to catch a glimpse of this. So many women feel worthless. Un-beautiful. So many men gaze at these "beautiful" women, wishing that's what they had. You know what's simply awesome? I know for a fact that the current "most beautiful woman in the world" could walk into the room, and she wouldn't warrant more than a glance from Darryl. She could stand right beside me, she could be completely naked, and his gaze would be locked in mine. And he would say, "You're the most beautiful thing I have ever seen." It blows me away. I hope that never changes. I have no reason to believe that it will. Not because of who I am, but because of who he is.
Every time Darryl speaks these words, I believe him a little bit more. Not so much that I am generically beautiful, but rather that when he looks at me, he sees beauty. Others may disagree with him - that's fine. In fact, they should. They should be enamoured with the beauty of their own love, if they have been granted such. I hope my life leads others to see beauty in it, but beyond that I do not have need. I only desire that from one person.
Yes, I am truly fortunate to have what I do, but I am not the only one. I have seen other men look upon their wives with such adoration that it cannot go unnoticed. He looks and sees beauty. She feels it and gives it. These looks speak more loudly about real love than any words ever could. What a gift to be able to share this with others. To be able to speak, without words, the true essence of love.
Each one of us is beautiful, for that is how we are made.
I feel beautiful. And his words speak more beauty into my life.
I once wrote about the opposite - how I had been made to feel ugly as a kid. In that post I mentioned the first time I remember being told I was beautiful. It's a powerful statement to hear. There's something about it that goes deep. It goes beyond "cute," "pretty" or even "hot." It is the heart-longing of every woman to be found beautiful.
Darryl has spoken these words to me often. When I'm all done up to go out. When we are just sitting and relaxing. When he has seen me first thing in the morning, in all my bedhead glory. "Wow. You're so beautiful." Every time, his words astound me. Some times more than others, naturally. I'll be honest - when he I've just come in from a 2-hr. run, the words make me chuckle. Not because I question his sincerity, but because they seem out of place, which I suppose makes me believe him all the more.
Society bombards us with their own idea of beauty. All you have to do is stand in line at the grocery store to catch a glimpse of this. So many women feel worthless. Un-beautiful. So many men gaze at these "beautiful" women, wishing that's what they had. You know what's simply awesome? I know for a fact that the current "most beautiful woman in the world" could walk into the room, and she wouldn't warrant more than a glance from Darryl. She could stand right beside me, she could be completely naked, and his gaze would be locked in mine. And he would say, "You're the most beautiful thing I have ever seen." It blows me away. I hope that never changes. I have no reason to believe that it will. Not because of who I am, but because of who he is.
Every time Darryl speaks these words, I believe him a little bit more. Not so much that I am generically beautiful, but rather that when he looks at me, he sees beauty. Others may disagree with him - that's fine. In fact, they should. They should be enamoured with the beauty of their own love, if they have been granted such. I hope my life leads others to see beauty in it, but beyond that I do not have need. I only desire that from one person.
Yes, I am truly fortunate to have what I do, but I am not the only one. I have seen other men look upon their wives with such adoration that it cannot go unnoticed. He looks and sees beauty. She feels it and gives it. These looks speak more loudly about real love than any words ever could. What a gift to be able to share this with others. To be able to speak, without words, the true essence of love.
Each one of us is beautiful, for that is how we are made.
I feel beautiful. And his words speak more beauty into my life.
Sunday, April 17, 2011
Running Au Naturel
I have been absent from here for a really long time. I was waiting to finish writing about our trip to Tucson, but that seems a little silly at this point. I had even written some of it up, but I'm not sure what the point of posting it would be now. So, I'm moving on.
A few weeks ago I attended a MovementU clinic put on by Jessi Stensland. She talked about a lot of running technique stuff that just made sense. I won't say that she necessarily encouraged trying barefoot running, but mentioned it briefly. What she did talk about was the tribe that was studied for the book "Born to Run." They can run hundreds of miles. And enjoy it. And they don't get injured. Oh, did I mention that they run barefoot in the Mexican mountains?
I was at the point where I needed new runners anyway, and to be honest, running in runners was driving me nuts after the stride changes I had made after Jessi's clinic. I had researched the various shoes quite a bit, and one thing caught my attention. In all the reviews I had read (and I read a lot), not one had said that they tried barefoot running and couldn't do it. Rather I read things like, "My chronic injuries disappeared" and "These are the only shoes I run in now." Not a single complaint. How strange.
I thought I may as well at least look into barefoot running shoes. You may be asking, "Barefoot running shoes? How the heck can you call it barefoot running if you're wearing shoes?" These "shoes" are basically protection from the running surface. That's it. They allow the muscles to do the cushioning while protecting your feet from sharp rocks, glass, etc. Kind of like strapping a piece of leather to your foot like many of the running tribes to, except with a little more technology.
After doing my research, I walked into MEC to try a pair. I slipped on a pair of Vibram Treksports and stood up. It was truly a transforming experience. I just felt that this is what shoes should feel like. Amazing. I didn't walk out with a pair - I wasn't convinced I was trying the right size and they didn't have a smaller size in the store. Instead I went online and ordered 8 different pairs of shoes from MEC - free shipping until April 20th - so I could try on what I needed and bring the ones I didn't want back. My shoes came in on Friday, and I was very excited to try a pair out this morning.
Now these shoes don't provide any cushioning so they recommend that you break them in slowly. You use muscles in an entirely new way, and you as for any other type of training, you need to increase slowly. My plan was to go out for about 10 minutes in my Vibrams, and then finish my run in my regular runners.
My first steps were almost like a dream. Running felt so good. Truly. I enjoyed every step, and for those who know me, I'm not really a runner. After about 5 minutes and a missed turn, I decided to try a little experiment. I would run the same distance as last week (15.5 km) and see how I felt at the end. From what I had read, I expected that my calves would get very sore from the added usage. I was just curious as to what else might hurt after that distance.
I had a fantastic run. I saw a couple of geese just sitting on the Bishop Grandin Greenway. They were so close I could have almost touched them as I ran by. I have heard stories about killer geese. Either these ones were particularly tame, or those stories are just urban myths.
By around 8km, my calves were starting to get tired. My solei to be precise. Everything else, however, felt amazing.
Somewhere in my 11th km, Daniele called me on my cell. As I was talking to her, I wasn't paying very close attention to where I was running. Suddenly, I felt myself slip a little. Ice. Normally, this would shoot all kinds of adrenaline through my body and thoughts of falling would enter my mind. This was different though. Not only do the soles of these shoes have incredible grip, it was like I could feel the ice through them. I felt completely connected to the ground.
I won't lie. The last few kilometers were tough. My solei and feet were tired from hitting the pavement (running on grass alleviated most of the discomfort). The amazing thing though was that there was no pain. Not in my knees. Not in my back. Nothing. Other than my overworked muscles, my body felt better than it ever had after a run.
So far, I'm sold. And you know what? It makes sense. After all, human beings have walked and ran for thousands of years with nothing more than a layer of leather or some other material to protect against the elements. No cushioning. No heel elevation. They relied on the muscles to protect the joints. I don't care where you stand on the creation/evolution debate - we are designed in such a way that this natural cushioning is there. Weak muscles cause injury. Weak core - bad back. My knees were bad until I started running. (I also initially did some weight training to strengthen the muscles around my knees.) They don't bother me anymore. Running shoes do not allow our foot and calf muscles to function they way they are made to work, so why do we wear them? Because at some point within the last half century or so, someone decided that they would be a good idea.
I'm not going to tell you all that you should go and throw out your runners. I'm just saying that I truly believe that this is going to work for me. But I would challenge any of you to give the barefoot runners a shot. And hey, if it doesn't work for you, at least I can say I heard someone say that they tried and just couldn't run without traditional runners. As for me, I'm going to enjoy running for a change.
A few weeks ago I attended a MovementU clinic put on by Jessi Stensland. She talked about a lot of running technique stuff that just made sense. I won't say that she necessarily encouraged trying barefoot running, but mentioned it briefly. What she did talk about was the tribe that was studied for the book "Born to Run." They can run hundreds of miles. And enjoy it. And they don't get injured. Oh, did I mention that they run barefoot in the Mexican mountains?
I was at the point where I needed new runners anyway, and to be honest, running in runners was driving me nuts after the stride changes I had made after Jessi's clinic. I had researched the various shoes quite a bit, and one thing caught my attention. In all the reviews I had read (and I read a lot), not one had said that they tried barefoot running and couldn't do it. Rather I read things like, "My chronic injuries disappeared" and "These are the only shoes I run in now." Not a single complaint. How strange.
I thought I may as well at least look into barefoot running shoes. You may be asking, "Barefoot running shoes? How the heck can you call it barefoot running if you're wearing shoes?" These "shoes" are basically protection from the running surface. That's it. They allow the muscles to do the cushioning while protecting your feet from sharp rocks, glass, etc. Kind of like strapping a piece of leather to your foot like many of the running tribes to, except with a little more technology.
After doing my research, I walked into MEC to try a pair. I slipped on a pair of Vibram Treksports and stood up. It was truly a transforming experience. I just felt that this is what shoes should feel like. Amazing. I didn't walk out with a pair - I wasn't convinced I was trying the right size and they didn't have a smaller size in the store. Instead I went online and ordered 8 different pairs of shoes from MEC - free shipping until April 20th - so I could try on what I needed and bring the ones I didn't want back. My shoes came in on Friday, and I was very excited to try a pair out this morning.
Now these shoes don't provide any cushioning so they recommend that you break them in slowly. You use muscles in an entirely new way, and you as for any other type of training, you need to increase slowly. My plan was to go out for about 10 minutes in my Vibrams, and then finish my run in my regular runners.
 |
| My Vibram Spints |
My first steps were almost like a dream. Running felt so good. Truly. I enjoyed every step, and for those who know me, I'm not really a runner. After about 5 minutes and a missed turn, I decided to try a little experiment. I would run the same distance as last week (15.5 km) and see how I felt at the end. From what I had read, I expected that my calves would get very sore from the added usage. I was just curious as to what else might hurt after that distance.
I had a fantastic run. I saw a couple of geese just sitting on the Bishop Grandin Greenway. They were so close I could have almost touched them as I ran by. I have heard stories about killer geese. Either these ones were particularly tame, or those stories are just urban myths.
By around 8km, my calves were starting to get tired. My solei to be precise. Everything else, however, felt amazing.
Somewhere in my 11th km, Daniele called me on my cell. As I was talking to her, I wasn't paying very close attention to where I was running. Suddenly, I felt myself slip a little. Ice. Normally, this would shoot all kinds of adrenaline through my body and thoughts of falling would enter my mind. This was different though. Not only do the soles of these shoes have incredible grip, it was like I could feel the ice through them. I felt completely connected to the ground.
I won't lie. The last few kilometers were tough. My solei and feet were tired from hitting the pavement (running on grass alleviated most of the discomfort). The amazing thing though was that there was no pain. Not in my knees. Not in my back. Nothing. Other than my overworked muscles, my body felt better than it ever had after a run.
So far, I'm sold. And you know what? It makes sense. After all, human beings have walked and ran for thousands of years with nothing more than a layer of leather or some other material to protect against the elements. No cushioning. No heel elevation. They relied on the muscles to protect the joints. I don't care where you stand on the creation/evolution debate - we are designed in such a way that this natural cushioning is there. Weak muscles cause injury. Weak core - bad back. My knees were bad until I started running. (I also initially did some weight training to strengthen the muscles around my knees.) They don't bother me anymore. Running shoes do not allow our foot and calf muscles to function they way they are made to work, so why do we wear them? Because at some point within the last half century or so, someone decided that they would be a good idea.
I'm not going to tell you all that you should go and throw out your runners. I'm just saying that I truly believe that this is going to work for me. But I would challenge any of you to give the barefoot runners a shot. And hey, if it doesn't work for you, at least I can say I heard someone say that they tried and just couldn't run without traditional runners. As for me, I'm going to enjoy running for a change.
Friday, February 4, 2011
Day #1...continued...
I left you with a bike that wasn’t working in East Saguaro National Park. When we got back, Chris dropped us off at the hotel so we could shower before going out for supper, and then dropped my bike off at the shop. Darryl was back after a ride out at East Saguaro, followed by a run. That man will be a triathlete yet. ;) Once I was ready, we went down and met Chris, Rhonda and Naomi to meet Jacquie at El Charro. If you are in Tucson, go, by the way. Fantastic food.
“What did they say about my bike?”
“Doesn’t look good...”
Ugh. I walked into the shop (well, almost ran, actually), and mentioned that they were looking at my bike in the back and I needed to talk to them.
“Go right in.”
“Well, we’ll have to replace the chain.”
“If it’s only the chain, that’s fantastic,” I chirped as I rounded the corner to a couple of blank stares. “Hi. That’s my bike.”
They explained that one of the links was about to explode, they suspected as a result of an unusually short chain stay. They got “lucky” when they stopped spinning the chain, and happened to stop it exactly where they could see the breaking link. They were not even remotely surprised that it hadn’t been noticed at the shop. They told me they would fix it that night and I could pick it up at nine the next morning. Perfect. Mt. Lemmon ride was scheduled to leave at 10:30.
As a bit of an aside, I don’t believe there was any luck here at all. I could have chosen to not ride East Saguaro that day. The chain could have held out for one more ride. They could have completely missed the faulty link by stopping it at any other point. I would not have ridden Mt. Lemmon the following day. Nope. I don’t think there was luck at all. It was simply meant to be. Don’t know exactly why, but I think God wanted me to ride. Or maybe He just knew how much I wanted to climb it again and figured He’d show me He’s in charge. Again. :)
Other parts of day #1: Delicious supper. Great talk by Lincoln on Cat and Dog Theology. Meeting the Whitmore-Cardenas twins, who are absolutely adorable, by the way. A little visiting. Bed.
 |
| The twins. Aren't they the cutest? (I stole this pic, too - thanks Susie!) |
Thursday, February 3, 2011
The Beginning of Our Travels
It was the end of January - time for my yearly trek down to Arizona to attend International Christian Triathlon Network’s training camp. This year was ICTN’s 6th training camp, and it was my 5th time going. Since I’ve already dragged Darryl onto my triathlon team, it only seemed natural to invite him to join me. Plus, it would be time away with my man. Doesn’t get much better than that.
At first, we intended to fly, likely out of Grand Forks. Then after much humming and hawing, we decided it might just be simplest to put our relationship to the ultimate test...
Road Trip
 |
| Stone magnets are fun. |
Darryl arrived at my place around 4am on Wednesday morning. (Definitely Darryl’s choice, and since he was driving, I wasn’t about to complain about it.) We had already loaded the bikes the night before, so we threw my luggage in and off we went.
 |
| Darryl and the Texas state trooper that let him off with a warning. Note that she's still ready to draw... |
Other than fog through most of South Dakota and learning about paying tolls on Oklahoma toll roads, the trip down was fairly uneventful. Well, there was the time that Darryl got pulled over by a state trooper in Texas. That was fun. :) But even the border crossing guard was friendly. Just the typical questions like, “What’s the purpose of your trip?” “What is your relationship?” and “What is your favourite part of the triathlon?” (Of course, this didn’t surprise me much - the American ones are generally quite amicable. I won’t speak for our Canadian counterparts.)
 |
| American town names fascinate me. |
ICTN Camp, Day #1, Friday, January 28
 |
| Justin displaying his Canadian pride. That's Bob and I singing in the background. (Photo credit to Susie Degan.) |
I feel I should share the background story to this event. Last year, whenever Bob spotted Rhonda or myself, he would sing, at the top of his lungs, “OH CANADA!” When I asked if he could sing the rest, he could manage the second line, but that was it. So, on the last day of camp, I wrote out the words for him and told him that I expected him to learn it so we could open camp together the following year. I had heard that he had not, in fact, followed through, so when I saw him just prior to camp starting at 8am, I walked up to harass him about it.
“Bob! I hear you didn’t learn the words to Oh Canada. I’m disappointed.”
“Terri! Just wait...” as he ruffled through his papers. “Here! I have it!” And sure enough, there was the paper I had given him last year. And so we stood there and declared camp open with my national anthem. What a great experience.
Bob was the first pastor speaker, and as always, challenged us. Bob’s own story is fantastic, and he approaches life with such vigor it is contagious.
After Bob was done, we went off into our session of choice. I listened to Brad Seng and John Shelp talk about practical swim training, mostly because it is the area I have the least confidence in talking to others about, and I know that it is the area people are most nervous about. Darryl, on the other hand, went to learn about strength training from Kevin Paladino. Kevin masochistically had his session attendees perform 150 push-ups. In a row. Well, kind of. Push-up to failure, and then a 50m run, then push-ups to failure, 50m run, push-ups to failure...well, you get the picture. To 150 push-ups. Apparently Darryl and Troy Soares suffered through side-by-side. Neither could raise their arms the next day.
For session #2, Darryl and I both attended Brandon Nichol’s nutrition talk. I even managed to learn something there. Yay!
After lunch, it was workout time. I decided to swim, and then do a quick bike out at East Saguaro National Park. After dealing with logistic issues at the pool (they don’t circle swim, only allow a maximum of two people per lane, and every lane had 1-2 people in already - thankfully a couple of them moved out and let us have the lanes), I got some stroke analysis from J.R. Rosania, then did a quick 10 x 100 set, which unfortunately was all we had time for.
We got back, and since Chris and Naomi (Rhonda’s hubby and daughter) were planning on driving to the park anyway, Rhonda and I decided to load our bikes in their vehicle and just do a quick lap there. I misunderstood the directions I had been given, so getting out there took a little longer than expected - thank goodness for GPS. We got there, unloaded, and took off, Rhonda first. No big deal. Catching her wouldn’t be a problem. So I thought.
Then I encountered the first decent climb. As soon as I put pressure in my pedals, the chain popped off the chain ring. I hopped off my bike and pulled to the side. The chain was completely jammed between the ring and the frame. After about 10 minutes of fighting with the chain, and giving up 2 or 3 times, I finally got it unjammed and back on the ring. Back on the road. Down the hill. Up the hill. Chain off the ring. Words I will not repeat. Chris finally caught up to me with the vehicle. I told him what was going on, and tried one more time. No go. One of my favourite rides done before it started.
Needless to say I was not impressed, especially because I had taken my bike into the shop twice since the end of July because there was something wrong. Kevin Miller had suggested a chain issue last summer because of what I was experiencing, but we couldn’t find it, and neither could my bike shop boys. Now I had no choice other than to bring it into the shop by the hotel and hope they could fix it before Mt. Lemmon the next morning...
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)