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March Madness Take Two

3/25/2018

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PictureMarjorie and I at the start line
Madness came in March again…..

My sister and I, undeterred by our previous biking adventures (...or perhaps encouraged by them…..) met up in Mesquite again this year and participated in the 2018 March Madness 65 miles bike ride.   Good times.

The good times were slow to start.   In fact, I was not sure they would start at all.  Late Friday night, while unloading my bike from the back of the truck, the chain broke.   All the bike shops in Mesquite has closed hours previously and they would not open again until after the event was scheduled to start.    A chainless bike is about as effective as a bum steer. It might look nice but it would not get the job done.

My stress was unnecessary.   (Is any stress necessary?) At the registration table, a kind lady told me to ask the Red Rock Bicycle Company’s bike mechanic and pointed me to a man wearing Chacos (clearly a good omen!).  After listening to my sad story, he indicated he could probably help and asked me if I had the chain with me. (I must have looked as stupid as I felt….and I would have felt even more stupid if I’d left the chain behind!.)   

“You are in luck,” he said as he fished a small something out of his toolbox and, after threading the chain back through all the sprockets, spokes and speed ring things, used it to reconnect my chain.    Good news!

And the good times started...but they did not start quickly.  In fact, there was nothing quick about it at all. Marjorie and I crossed the start line a 5:03 minutes after the leaders.    We crossed the finish line almost four hours after the leaders. [The FIRST person to finish the 65 mile ride was a 63 year old woman who did it in 2:52:05.23.   It took us 6:45:51.58.]

We were not quick but there were several quick things associated with the event.  

Twenty-two and a half miles into the ride, at the first fabulous food (and drink and potty) station, it became very clear to me that short sleeves,short pants, and short shoes (i.e. Chacos) were not enough to keep me warm.   I sent a short text (“Help!”) to Lance and he quickly responded. Bless him and bless him! He brought me a warm jacket and then spent the rest of the day shadowing Marjorie and I as we completed the course.

Meanwhile, back at the hotel, Miles and James were quick thinkers.   Lance, coming to my rescue, left very quickly, so quickly that he had not time to think about, much less act upon, the need to check out of the hotel room.   Miles and James, on an unrelated errand at the hotel service desk, thought to ask about check out time. When they learned they had to be out of the hotel room in 15 minutes, they quickly packed up everything (even Lance’s dress shoes that had been thrown in a corner) and moved out.  Impressive action for a couple of teenage boys!

Quicker even than Miles and James moved from the cold pool to the hot tub was the wind that howled through the canyons Marjorie and I were navigating.   Oh my lands! Heading out, toward Beaver Dam, it felt like a great day. Confidence surged, until we observed the riders coming back from the turn-around point.  They were working….hard! We felt great because we had a tail wind. When turned around, our tailwind turned to a head wind and our confidence blew away. We had to pedal going downhill.   Uphills (and there were several significant ones) were brutal. Brutal!
But we did it.  We did it! My sweet sister and I did it.   No one and nothing can take that away from us.   It was hard. And we did it. We did it! And it was good times.   Not quick times but good times. And our good memories of the good times will last a long, long time.


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Marjorie and I turning around to head into the wind....
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Our bikes....
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...and our support crew.
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Love this man!
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Crossing the finish line
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Finishers. SO great to be biking with Kevin and Laurie Smedley again!
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I earned a medal! (Everyone did.)
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Me in my race t-shirt. (A week and a day after the race.) This shirt is so much better than the (ugly) hat we got last year. :)
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My Children

3/11/2018

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As a freshman at Madras High School, my opinion of my abilities was super-sized (13 years before McDonald’s coined the phrase).    My father taught me that I could do anything I set my mind to and I believed him. The science teacher had to re-calibrate the class curve so that my high score did not push everyone’s grade down, the oh-my-gosh-oh-so-wonderful senior and star of the basketball team (Ronnie Wilson--I held my breath when I passed him in the hall…...) asked me to dance more than once,  and I was the second highest scorer of points on the varsity track team. It was a golden time.

Like most freshman girls (and like many, many young people who are not freshman and not even necessarily girls) I hero worshipped my track coach.  Mr. Wiles made a big impression on me and I worked hard to impress him. My hard work and subsequent success led to a bit (maybe more than a bit….) of arrogance and I frequently fantasized that Mr. Wiles wished I were his daughter.  I dreamed of replacing Janelle (his biological daughter whom I had never met) in his affections. Given my incredible (in my mind) accomplishments , how could he not wish that I were his daughter?

Oh my.

OH MY.

Now, as a mother, I have an answer to that question.  I am certain that Mr. Wiles did not wish I were his daughter for the same reason I do not wish that anyone else’s daughter (or son) were mine.   While I cannot specifically wrap words around the reason, it is real. My children are part of me in a very literal, guttural, fundamental, chromosomal way.  They touch my heart in places inaccessible to anyone else. I love them as myself, indeed more than myself. Physically they are an extension of my life. Emotionally they extend and enrich my life.    

Wish that someone else’s accomplished child were my own?    Never. Not for a nanosecond.

My children have done some great things--both Chick and Tanah recently earned raises and got promotions at work, Grace had the leading role in the high school play and just received her FFA State Farmer Degree, Miles was accepted into the Project Lead the Way program--but they also have some struggles, details about which I will not share because they are not my stories to tell.  As great as our children are, there are children (many) out there more accomplished than ours--children who have earned better scholarships, who are better athletes, and who have served in better leadership positions--but there are no children anywhere that fit better in my heart.  They fit perfectly.

I think we fit into Heavenly Father’s heart in much the same way.  


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    Author

    Teresa Hislop
    thislop@msn.com

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