"Cross It Off Your Bucket List"

As I was sitting here writing a blog post on being obsessed with Iron Man a song from my site player came on, "Live Like You Were Dying" (yes, I listen to my own music, it hasn't gotten old for me, I hope you feel the same way).   Bare with me as I take you on a little ride...

Yup...that's me!

In 2004 I decided I wanted to go skydiving.  My husband (at the time) bought me a gift certificate for a tandem jump for my birthday.  I went.  I LOVED EVERY SECOND OF IT.  It was one of the best experiences of my life.  I knew instantly I wanted to do it again, but on my own.  I wanted to make sky diving my hobby!!  I went home and started looking up all the equipment I was going to need.   Let me tell you, it's every bit as expensive as triathlon.

A month later I went in for an all day training session.  I met all the local sky-divers who impressed me to no end.  My jump master carefully explained all the ways I could die or get hurt....and taught me all the things I needed to remember so as to avoid either of those eventualities!!  I learned there is a series of jumps you have to complete in order to jump alone....starting with the jump I would make that day--a static line jump.   ((Imagine if, before doing an IronMan, you were required to take a class, then complete 3 sprints, 3 Olympic distance and 4 half Irons before being allowed to sign up for IM.))

This is the position you get into before pulling your cord

Not sure if you know anything about sky diving, but basically in the static line jump, your pack pull cord is connected to a line attached to the plane.  You hold on to the strut of the plane with your legs dangling (like 6,000 feet in the air)...then you let go.  (It should be called a static line FALL instead of jump.)  You are supposed to go into a certain position ((or you could get tangled in the line and die))...you count for like 3 seconds and then pull your cord to open your pack....if you freak out basically the line that is connected to the plane pulls it for you.  If you (LIKE ME) don't maneuver into the correct position the jump master basically pulls the line very quickly (lest you get tangled up in it and die).

In the split seconds after I realized I wasn't in the right position I thought I would surely die.  I would never see my kids again.  Fortunately my jump master "short-pulled" the line and my pack opened.  When I landed however, long story short, I cracked my tailbone!  Everyone there told me about all the injuries they had sustained over the years.  They assured me, as if it was actually "assuring", injuries were just a part of the sport.  They said the best thing I could do (if I was serious about sky diving) was to come back the next week and jump again, cracked tailbone and all.

You might think I never went back, but I did...a year later with a friend who was crossing an item off her "bucket list".

The rush of the tandem line jump from the previous year came back to me without the pain in my hind end to remind me about my near death static line experience.  All my "friends" (the sky divers I met the year before) remembered me and were telling me they were sure I would be back but they didn't think it would have taken as long as it had.  As I contemplated the possibility of rejoining a group I had never been fully inducted into in the first place, a girl came up on crutches, looking as if she had been hit by a semi.

Shortly before that day (I want to say it was a week, but may have been a month), Shayna Richardson (now West), was taking her 10th jump (like a graduation jump if you will) when both her primary and her reserve canopies failed.  (((She told me the canopies were most likely okay, but there was a problem that she couldn't/didn't handle.)))  She swirled all the way down where she slammed her body into a parking lot.  Obviously she didn't die.  ((The video is HERE.))  After talking to Shayna that day...I have never gone back.  Furthermore, I don't think about going back, longer than a few seconds minutes anyway.

You might ask why on earth I'm writing about this....  Well, it's in response to a couple of comments made by a friend about triathlon, IronMan specifically.  MY TAKE on what she said (maybe not what she meant by her comments) is that some people sign up for an Iron Man just to cross it off a list of things they want to do before they die.  I'll be honest, last January when I decided I wanted to "run a marathon" that was pretty much what I had in mind.  However, it didn't take long for me to realize I LOVE to run.  When I decided to train for my first triathlon...I didn't know what to expect.  I couldn't swim.  I didn't own a bike.  I thought it might be a good way to cross train to improve my running without the constant pounding out of miles.

I didn't expect to love it.  I didn't expect it to be a life changing thing for me.  I didn't expect it to change me the way it has.

No...triathlon hasn't changed me...it's simply an outlet for me to be who I am.  ((yes, I'm totally aware of how corny that sounds....but it's true so I'm leaving it there!))

Thanks for stopping in!  Come again soon.
:D

Food Will Be the Death of Me

For quite a while I have been hyper-vigilant with my food choices.  Other than not quite eating enough before Wet Dog, I've done well at watching the kinds of foods I'm eating as well as how much.  I've also stayed away from all the foods on my food allergy/intolerance list, even all weekend at camp.  I took and made all my own food (baked -well, microwaved- potatoes with fake butter, gluten free waffles, protein powder). 

Until Sunday.

A while back after an open water swim my tri training group went to a place called Stevarino's in Scottsboro.  It looks like a hole-in-the-wall and is in the middle of a strip mall.  Not the place one would expect to find the best (looking) pizza in the WORLD!!  ((I'm not kidding you...that pizza looked better than what I had in Italy, and from what everyone was saying it tasted as good as it looked.))  Well, that night I chose to eat a seared tuna salad.  Don't get me wrong, it tasted great, but, come on, it was nothing compared to pizza.

Over the course of the camp weekend I road passed pizza nirvana no less than six times.  After all the calorie expenditure and being repeatedly faced with temptation...I caved Sunday afternoon and begged my husband to take me to Stevarino's.  We drove down there only to find is CLOSED.  I wanted to cry.  Rather than seeing it as an opportunity to make a better choice, I started thinking about other pizza places.  The only place I could think of that might be worth intestinal distress is also not open on Sunday.  Third place was not only open but on the way home.  After scarfing down some cheesy garlic bread (which wasn't actually very good) I ate some good (but not spectacularly fabulous) pizza.

Monday morning I woke up with a POUNDING, SPLITTING headache and a nose I couldn't breathe out of.  Tuesday and today I have battled total intestinal distress.  From past experience, my best guess is I'll continue having "issues" for the rest of this week.  Why can't I remember the momentary good taste of food is NOT WORTH the inevitable week of suffering.  I talked about it over and over all weekend.  I can't count the number of times I told my story....how I couldn't lose weight and felt so horrible until I took the food allergy test and cut out the food on the list.  How I lost 4 pounds the first week and have felt better than I have in my life during the times I'm eating completely clean.  And...how I feel like garbage when I eat those foods.  How could I ruin it with pizza ...especially pizza that wasn't my first choice??

I hope the more I talk about it the more I can remember it's NOT WORTH IT!!!  I'm sorry for subjecting you to my melodrama!   But...thanks for stopping in...come again soon!! 
:D

Being a Doug

My very first non-family member reader (you know who you are) read about me going to the Long Course Camp and told her husband, Doug, about it.  During Friday evening's 24 mile "social" ride I found myself riding beside him.  As I was plodding along thinking about the weekend, trying not to think about what was coming up...all of the sudden he said, "WOW, this is really beautiful out here!!"  I looked up and ...boy was he right!! 

We were "out in the county" with some "mountains" and farm land all around us.  Seeing the countryside is one thing I have loved about biking.  The problem is, more often than not, when I'm training I'm not able to take in my surroundings.  It's kind of like trail running.  I can't look around when I'm RUNNING...I have to look straight in front of me, planning out my next footfall unless I want to plant my face in the trail instead of my shoe!! 

Later when we were "running" in the pitch black night...I was struggling to see the road in front of me.  I had almost run over another camper who stopped because she has no night vision.  She and I were like the blind leading the blind trying to stay in the middle of the road when all of the sudden Doug came upon us from behind (come to think of it, how did I manage to be in front of him in the first place????).  We were walking at that point because running in the complete dark isn't smart.  When we got out from under the tree cover Doug said, "WOW...would you just look at that sky!!!" (or something to that effect).  I looked up and ...boy was he right!!!

A clear night sky, unadulterated by man-made or moon light, is truly one of my all-time favorite things; I would have completely missed seeing it if not for Doug!  By that point I was tired, STARVING, worried about whether or not the kitchen had a microwave and how long it was going to take for my baked potato to cook, wondering if the showers would be hot (because no matter how hot I am, I can not STAND a cold shower!)...not to mention the worry about Saturday that was creeping in my thoughts like an infection...but, once again, Doug's words brought me back to the present moment.  Not only that, his words pointed to what was beautiful, what was good, about that specific moment in time.

Saturday when we were a little over half way into our long ride, there was a small group of us (including Doug) who thought we might be lost.  We hadn't seen road markings in a LONG time, we thought there was going to be aid at the halfway point (which we had passed seven or so miles back), it was HOT, it looked as though there were storms headed our way, we were all out of water....and no one had a map or a phone.  I honestly don't remember Doug's words, but I remember thinking, "at least the positive thinker is here to keep us buoyed!!  ((We were not lost, the road was marked and aid, and a GREAT little country store, was only about a mile away....))

Matthew 6:33-34 tells me not to worry about tomorrow, but I don't always remember.  Several more times during the weekend, Doug made comments that gently reminded me of this lesson in such an uplifting way that by Sunday I started thinking, "I'm going to 'be a Doug' and make an effort to find something POSITIVE to focus on."  He was one of many campers who was pretty much ALWAYS smiling.  When worry and concern pushed and pulled at my thoughts like currents on a ship, Doug's words served as anchors reeling me back into the BEAUTY of the moment.  His comments reminded me to be fully present in God's creation.  Not only that...they reminded me to be THANKFUL for it.

It's hard to be around someone who is negative.  It's even harder when that negativity is inside my own head.  Being around someone who is positive is like breathing fresh air....a cool breeze on a hot day....refreshing, uplifting, renewing.   I certainly do not want to give the impression that Doug was the only positive camper--there were MANY--it just so happened he pointed out things that were personally meaningful to me (the view from the bike and the starry night sky) at the exact right time (when my thoughts were not quite where they needed to be).  What a blessing!!!  I think the very fact there were several "Dougs" present at the camp allowed me to finish the weekend feeling STRONG.  I only hope I was able to "be a Doug" to someone!

Thanks for stopping in...come again soon!  :D


***I usually change names in my posts...but Doug is a common name and "being a Doug" is emblazoned in my mind now; I don't think I could have written the post as easily if I had changed the name to something like "being an Earnest" or "being a Wally".