Folly and Crisis hit the trails

I am constantly wanting to define our family as an active and connected family rather than what we really are, 4 people who live independent lives under the same roof.  With 2 TVs, 3 computers and an x-box we can easily live in our own little worlds.  I have an idealistic vision of how our family should look and when the occasional opportunity arises to create that experience for even a moment I try to capitalize on it.

Enter Memorial Day Weekend with beautiful weather and me in need of a nice long bike ride as part of my training for the upcoming triathlon.  What to do but force the entire family to spend the day together biking one of the many trails in the cities.  I targeted 20 miles as a nice length ride.  John was on board with me and we discussed many potential routes before deciding on one we did a couple years ago from our church into Excelsior and back.  Isabelle is always excited by any activity we do as a family.  She just loves action.  However, the teenager doesn't like to ride bikes.  At least that is what he told us about every 10 minutes while we were getting ready.  He also tried ignoring us in hopes that we would just leave him.  He tried not getting ready in hopes we would leave him.  No such luck.  That boy was coming no matter what.  I told John that by the time we were 2 miles down the trail he would be speaking to us.  It is the exercise.  It clears your brain and relaxes you.  Plus we chose the trail we did because it was very wooded and he loves nature.

So we loaded up the van with 3 bikes, a trail-behind, an enthusiastic 5 year old and a sulking 15 year old and we were off.

Loaded car

Unloading the bikes.

Why are you making me do this???

I told him to look really miserable for me.  Ha ha, I got a smile even before we hit the trail.

Of course I didn't have to tell her to look like she was having fun.

Assembling the bikes.  That is mine.

Then we hit the trails. 

It only looked something like this, not actually like this since I was so busy leading the family on a power ride down the trail that I never thought to stop and take pictures of any of us on the bikes.  But John was pulling Isabelle in this same set up from 2006 when we did the MS150.  Of course Isabelle is about 20+ pounds heavier and I had about 5-10 pounds of food in the back but otherwise it was like that.

About 2 miles down the trail we rode by a woman who was really into her power walk.  Moments after we get by her Jake rides up to us and says, "it's all in the arms."  Ha ha.  And there you have it, he rallied.  A mom knows.  Further conversations about life followed as we enjoyed our idyllic family ride.

When we arrived in Excelsior John's bike computer said it was 9.5 miles.  Perfect for my 20 mile goal.  We sat by the lake and enjoyed a lovely picnic lunch.  Also part of my idyllic family interaction.

Now he is just faking.  Although he is still insisting he doesn't want to be here I know he is enjoying it.

John grabbed the camera from me so I couldn't be out of all the pictures.  I had no idea my legs were so pasty.  Will definitely be working on that this next week in Atlanta.

And John caught Isabelle and I dipping our toes in the water.  It is still quite cold.  However, Isabelle would have gone for a swim if she had been in her suit.  She loved every minute of it.

Official proof that he rallied.  Don't let him fool you into thinking he didn't enjoy this experience.

We got back on our bikes for the ride back.  It was a great ride.  I noted that John, with the "50 pound anchor inside a parachute" behind his bike seemed a little more tired than the rest of us.  I think we will be combing Craig's List the rest of the summer for a good deal on a trail behind bike for Isabelle.  It is time for her to start helping out a little.

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.

A SPELL CHECKING BUTTON HAS MAGICALLY APPEARED ON MY BLOG!  JOY OH JOY, I WILL SEEM MORE INTELLIGENT THAN I ACTUALLY AM ONCE AGAIN.

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.