Worth Waiting For...

A little more than forty years ago, a little girl was born at home in a small village in England.  The midwife had ordered her Dad to fetch towels and her Mum to swallow cod liver oil and orange juice before she could enter the world.  She appeared just three days before her brother’s seventh birthday and for several years he believed she was his birthday present, which he thought was alright but he also hoped he would get the other presents he asked for too.

Almost forty years ago, a little boy was born in the hospital where his Mom worked in Ottawa, Illinois.  Knowing her, she worked up until the moment he made his grand appearance and probably did not hang around in bed for long after that.  His family moved to a small town in Iowa when he was still very young and he grew up on the farm.  He was seven when his sister was born. 

The little girl and the little boy grew up roughly 4,200 miles away from each other as the crow flies.  He spent much of his time playing with his car collection and racing them against each other while she lined up dolls and teddy bears on her bed and dispensed the lesson of the day as their teacher; both loved being outside and riding their bikes.  One day he packed his suitcase and left home with his car collection (there is photographic evidence of this) and she once did the same, except it was the doll collection of the exotic beauties her Dad had brought her from his business trips overseas that she packed.  Neither packed clothes, food or money nor did either of them make it very far before they forgot what had motivated this dramatic departure and returned home none the worse for wear.

By the early 90’s he was in the military and several times traveled to Okinawa, Japan on temporary assignments.  She lived in Okinawa for three years teaching English to Japanese high school students during the same period and both developed a penchant for sushi and hot coffee that came in cans from vending machines.  She would go scuba diving with her friends and he would tour the island by bike; she unaccustomed to such humidity and he recognizing it from the hot Iowa summers.

Once the 90’s were well underway both lived in Colorado Springs, possibly standing in the same Starbucks line with their morning need for a good cup of coffee.  Perhaps they stopped by the same grocery store to pick up ice cream on their way home.  Were they in Palmer Park at the same time having fun on their mountain bikes, there together but separately?  Did their paths cross at an intersection, did they wait at the same light at the same time, and did they drive the same route together?

Two years ago, after a whirlwind courtship, the little girl and the little boy wed in front of his two sons and her two sons, their family and their friends.  Despite technically being adults by this time, they giggled like children, happy and amazed that they had found each other at last.  They were delighted to find that their equal existed, that true love is meant to be, and that having a partner in crime for adventures like biking and traveling, and commitments like parenting and building a family together was possible. 

On our second wedding anniversary, I couldn’t ask for a better man and father to hold my hand, offer a different point of view, have new adventures with, and trust implicitly.  Happy Anniversary my Darling!

First Day of School

As in many other families, our boys returned to school this week.  One third grader, one fifth grader, one sixth grader and an eighth grader; four different personalities with bulging backpacks and mixed emotions. 

Our third grader seemed relatively ambivalent to the whole thing.  He was most excited by the Super Heroes pencil case the school supplies bunny brought him and his new purple school bag because that’s the favorite color of his big bad eighth grader brother.  However, it does not appear to have dawned on him yet that he has reached a level of independence he has not experienced before. This has occurred because the security previously provided has moved on, with our sixth grader, to middle school.  Our third grader is his own man who will do beautifully testing the waters of independence, judgment and decision making.  

Our fifth grader is happy to be at the top of the school finally and looking forward to having, for the first time, a male teacher.  Not that he hasn’t enjoyed his female teachers, and they him for that matter, but he has heard good things about Mr. S.  He is strict but fun apparently, a combination that could work wonderfully for this intelligent boy who sometimes thinks that he doesn’t need school because he already knows how to do everything.  Hopefully Mr S. won’t have to be too strict before our fifth grader gets to have some fun!

Our sixth grader was nervous about middle school with its different teachers for each class and moving to different classrooms between each class.  Most of all he was nervous about his locker.  It is small and he is a hoarder but worse than that the combination lock required jiggling, standing on one leg and getting the exact twist of the wrist when the sun is in the right aspect.  No amount of reassuring seemed to convince him that before long he would have it mastered and he become even more nervous at the prospect of being late for class.  I am pleased to report that as of day two he could gain access in less than 10 seconds; undoubtedly a record!      

Our eighth grader got up early to walk to the first day of school with our fifth grader.  The sweetness touched me and we walked the two blocks together happily chatting and discussing the year ahead.  In the fashion of a parent always looking to plant a seed, I noted that both boys would be at the top of their schools and had the opportunity to be leaders and set positive examples.  Our eighth grader seemed to like that idea until he realized that meant that next year he would be starting over again.  How quickly his world came crashing down!  I wanted to tell him that this is life and sometimes you are on top and sometimes you are starting over but instead I distracted him with talk of playing football this year.  Soaking wet he weighs 81 lbs and is, as he likes to say, fun-sized in stature but he can throw a football far and does not back away from confrontation.  That has been his downfall on occasion so if he can channel it on the football field instead of being a tough guy elsewhere his mother won’t have to worry so much when the phone rings and the school number shows on caller ID.

Four unique boys, four separate approaches, four different schools, and one hundred and seventy-seven days to enjoy third, fifth, sixth and eighth grade.     

Copper Triangle

Saturday was a great day!  After weeks of subconscious, and sometimes more overt worrying, I cycled Copper Triangle.  This ride is a 78 mile loop with three mountain passes and 5,981 feet of elevation gain.  It includes three Colorado mountain passes, hence the name triangle, Fremont Pass (elevation 11,318’), Tennessee Pass (elevation 10,424’) and Vail Pass (elevation 10,666’).  I have ridden this ride twice before in 2007 and 2008; it is a very scenic ride and is definitely physically challenging.  My stomach has been in knots because I felt that I had not ridden enough in preparation and that I was not acclimatized enough to the extra humidity we have been experiencing this year.  Add to this that during the final week before the ride the cycling gods seemed to have taken a distinct dislike to me.  It was not my imagination that each time I tried to ride the heavens opened and down came the rain.  Not a light shower but thunderstorms packed with two to three hours of constant rain and flash flood warnings.  One evening with a bloody mindedness my Mum and Dad would have been proud of I biked 20 miles in the rain simply because I was tired of the weather dictating my biking schedule!  I was soaked to the skin and had mascara running down to my chin but I was beaming triumphantly with the song “Ain’t no mountain high enough, ain’t no river wide enough…” playing in my mind to the steady rhythm of pedal strokes.  

Saturday morning dawned and at 6:45am when we set off it was a chilly 47 degrees.  Despite the hour there were plenty of cyclists who hit the road before us and we were surrounded by equally cold and sleepy riders.  Within the first half mile of the ride the climbing begins and the trepidation of the first 12 miles made my hear beat faster.  In my  mind it was a grueling start to the day; all uphill, steep and unrelenting.  In reality it was a steady climb with some flat and downhill interspersed and I made it to the first rest stop without incident and was irrationally happy to see chocolate chip cookies.  I am not a big chocolate chip cookie eater usually but today there were a great source of strength to me at yes, every rest stop!  Glad the first pass was completed without a mental or physical breakdown, I hit the road again knowing we had some nice downhill to enjoy and another pass to tackle before reaching the next rest station.  The miles flew by and suddenly we were climbing again.  My stomach lurched and those muscles in my legs that I half expected to fail me at any moment took over and suddenly we were there at the top of Tennessee Pass.  I started to feel good that two of the three passes were conquered but an inner voice kept telling me I could not relax because I still had to climb the dreaded Vail Pass.  More chocolate chip cookies, some grapes and water and we were ready to descend 3,000 feet in 22 miles; fast and fun.   

We glided into the third rest stop long enough to munch on some more cookies and started the 8 mile climb to the next rest stop.  At mile 57 of a 78 mile ride the toughest work begins and I had to shake that sluggish fear that had been my companion for the last couple of weeks and was now trying to get my attention again.  The fourth rest stop is on a steep hill and some riders were soldiering on through but I felt I needed to stop even though it was hard to get back on and get any momentum going.  With the help of strength gained from my new friends, chocolate chip cookies, I managed to get going and even passed some riders while many passed me.  I tried to look around and enjoy the scenery but that voice, that I hope never to listen to again, kept warning me that the worst was still to come and to not get too comfortable.  Over the course of the next 4 miles I feared and I loathed and I bargained and then I realized I had 3 miles of climbing left and that what in my head had been this colossal, gigantic mountain pass was challenging but not impossible.  I looked around again and it reminded me of when I was told I had to wear glasses when I was 8 or 9.  When I went home with those glasses I was very unhappy and thought I could manage without them.  I went to my bedroom so that I could least have some privacy while seeing how hideous I looked in them.  I was distracted by the field outside my window.  To the best of my knowledge it had always been a field with grass and trees.  That day I discovered there were a myriad of beautiful wild flowers and I never took my glasses off again until they were replaced by contact lenses. 

Now I looked out and saw jagged outcrops accented by a crystal blue sky, dense emerald trees, and similar wild flowers.   I was climbing and enjoying every moment of it.  I could feel myself grinning from ear to ear and I had to wonder why I had built up this ride to be so insurmountable in my mind.  I had all but convinced myself that I was incapable of finishing and even if I did it would take me hours longer than the previous two years.  It took me 19 minutes longer but the victory was sweeter, perhaps because I had not doubted myself before.  I thought about child birth and how the woman’s mind smooths the trauma of that intensely physical act.  I have always believed that if the brain did not take away that distinct memory and replace it with the flood of emotions associated with holding your baby for the first time all women would only ever have one child.  Why then had my brain not eased the memory of this ride but instead magnified and practically deformed it.  I do not have the answer except to say that if I was lacking confidence before the ride that was not the case after.  There will be no more babies but there will be more Copper Triangles.