Friday, May 21, 2010

Folly Friday

Boy some weeks I inundate you with my vast wisdom (or is it random trivia) and then others I have nothing to say.  I figure I can at least give you one thought this week, actually this will mainly be random trivia.


I have been contemplating my potential writing career.  I have been reading a book called, "writer mama" which John bought me for mother's day after I raved about it from the library.  It is both helpful and overwhelming.  It tells where to start but still leaves me with the question, "where to start?"  I waver day to day with confidence and doubt about my ability to have any level of success in this endeavor.  And without a boss to tell me what to do, where to start or even when to start I feel like I am floundering a little bit.  I would really love and am praying for a mentor, someone a little ahead of me that can encourage me, answer my stupid questions and direct me when I get lost.  Not someone I harass and feel like they might be wondering why I keep bothering them but someone who is genuinely interested in helping me succeed.  I know she is out there somewhere.

Yesterday I rode my bike to my parents house. They live about 12 miles away which is the distance I am riding in the triathlon I am doing in 2 weeks with my sister. (I don't know if I have mentioned it much here as I have been chronicling my training at WEWAWO, the sisters shared diet and exercise blog.) My mom had rode her bike over to my house a couple weeks ago. I was confused by her arrival still smelling fresh of perfume, no apparent sweat on her body and hair still fluffy despite 12 miles under a helmet. I hopped on my bike, with Isabelle in a trailer behind me, knowing that I was in much better shape than my mom and would have no trouble at all riding out there. I asked John to come home for lunch to install my new clip pedals on the bike so I could really be official on the ride. He sucessfully managed to cut his knuckles and leave lots of blood on my pedal so I could be thinking of him the whole ride. Somehow the whole thing ended up being much more challenging than I thought it would be. I think the only thing that kept me going, besides the fact that I was miles from my destination and from home, was the fact that my mom had so effortlessly come to my house. Plus, I am doing a 12 mile bike in the triathlon in 2 weeks, if I can't do this I am in trouble! I finally got into Chanhassen and was about 2 miles from their home, having gone 10 miles and stopped at dozens of stop lights where I had to unclip from the pedals to wait. But then I found myself stopping while also turning my bike and somehow the multiple tasks did not go together. Down I went right at the corner of a somewhat busy spot in downtown Chanhassen. I was surrounded by women in mini vans staring at me. There is really nothing to do but laugh at yourself and get back up. It wasn't a bad fall, I think being attached to Isabelle slowed my decent (the trailer didn't move, just my bike.) I had a scrape on my hand a knee but didn't see any blood so got back on and went with the light. As I rode I glanced again at my hand to discover that I was quickly developing a large hematoma and turning a lovely shade of blue. I pressed on for 2 more miles and arrived just as my mom was heading out on a search party to find me. (she had called and talked to Isabelle just before my fall and knew we were in the area.) So there I am, exhausted, dripping wet with sweat, hair wet with sweat, bruised and bloody (the knee did bleed a little). Not at all like my mom looked when she arrived. I got myself and ice pack and sat down.  My mom started commenting on what a nice ride it was. I commented on how many hills there were. What hills she wondered. OH! She rode her bike downhill for 12 miles and I rode my bike uphill for 12 miles! Plus I had a 50 pound parachut behind me. Suddenly it all made sense. Maybe next time I will bring my bike there and ride home. I hear that is a lovely ride. But there was no time to recover. What I thought would take about an hour took me almost 2 hours and now it was time to convince my parents to take me straight to Jake's last track meet.

This was his first year running track and the first organized sport he has been involved in since 3rd grade.  He really seemed to like it and said he is planning to sign up again next year, a good sign.  I told him one of my favorite parts of track for him was the fact that he wasn't particularly good at it.  He seems to be a natural at so many things.  With very little effort he can be successful and run with the top players in most of what he takes on.  But, he is not an instinctive runner, he has finished last in most of his runs.  We have been told that running is something you can learn and we are enjoying seeing him improve and work at something.  When he comes home and I ask him how he did he tells me about how he had a PR (personal record) in the race rather than about all the kids who finished faster than him.  That is exactly what I wanted him to learn in running.  That is exactly the kind of lessons I have learned from my own running.  He isn't always going to be the best or even good at everything he does but that doesn't mean there isn't value in the task.  He is having fun, getting exercise, learning a skill he can take into adulthood and making new friends.

We arrive to late to see his first run but find him holding up the goal post with his team mates.
Hold on, he moved.  Walked a few feet from the goal post. (I spared you the pictures of the top of his head while he lays against the gatorade buckets.)
Wait, is he stretching now?  Could he be running again soon?
Look I think he is coming toward us.  Grandma and Grandpa came to watch him hold up the goal post and I had been texting him for a while to come talk to us.  Since I can see him I know he got it.
Yes a smile and brief conversation with Grandma.  He assures us he will be running soon.  Grandma is nervous, she is having house guests in a couple hours.
OK here we go, the 200 meter dash.  He is a sprinter. (I don't see him in this picture either but I know he is there.)
There he is in the close lane.  Green shirt.  Go Edina.

Getting closer.
Another successful last place finish.  That way there is nobody else cluttering up your finish shot.  Go Jake!

Back to writing for my final thought on this post.

As I have been praying and seeking God to lead me in this new adventure I thought of a story from my Mary Kay years.  While I may never have driven a pink car the training I recieved while selling Mary Kay has seriously impacted almost every single aspect of my life in some way.  Today I am remembering the story of one National Sales Director who started off just like the rest of us making phone calls to friends and feeling a little insecure.  At one meeting she attended the speaker used the word "offer" when refering to telling women about the product and recruiting.  That word connected for her.  She didn't have to sell, force, cajole or whatever was making her feel intimidated.  She would simply offer women the product and opportunity and then see what happened.  As I begin thinking about writing and what kind of writer I will be I feel like God has given me a couple words to help direct my path.  One is "teach" and the other is "disciple".  While others may find these words intimidating to me they feel safe.  Teaching is just sharing information.  I don't have to know everything, I will either find the information or just tell what I know.  And Disciple is very similar.  Just tell what I know.  Encourage people in their faith.  I don't have to convince anyone to do anything I just tell what I know.  Tell what God places on my heart.  God will do the rest.


  1. You are just that good!! Go Mel Go!! Don't second guess yourself.

  2. hahahahahaha, that was hilarious, only mom can arrive after a 12 mile bike through town still smelling fresh, no sweat and fluffy hair.

    the hills and isabelle weight are good training!