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Racing Redneck

7/31/2016

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This is the outfit I wore swimming
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This is the outfit I wore biking.
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This is the outfit I wore running.
I raced redneck.
 
Surrounded by racers in wet suits, I entered the Snake River in my running shirt and shorts, my official Spudman race number pinned to my back.     Of the approximately 250 people who started in my wave, five of us were not wearing wetsuits.
 
A mile downstream I exited the water and began the 25 miles bike portion of the triathlon, atop my trusty knobby-tired, hybrid bike.   Of the approximately 400 people who sped past me on their bikes, there was not one whose bike had knobby tires.   The four people I biked passed also had thin, smooth-tired racing bikes.  
 
In the 6.2 mile run, my equipment matched that of my fellow participants.    Every that passed me (many) and everyone I passed (few) had legs that more or less looked like mine (two of them, descending from hips to reach the ground, graced by knee joints located approximately half way between hip and ground) and was wearing shoes, like me.  It was my least redneck portion of the triathlon, but my most red faced.
 
I raced slow.
 
Chris and Sallie Hislop, Scott Rasmussen and two of his boys, and Rick participated with me.   I was the first one in the water—I started with the fourth wave, Scott in the fifth wave, and the rest in the seventh wave—and the last one of us across the finish line—1265/1799 overall and 26/43 in my age and gender category.
 
And I raced happy.
 
It was a glorious experience.    Really.    The water in the Snake River was warm and largely liquid—I did snag a few random strands of river weed—and the current is gently encouraging.    The bike ride was simply beautiful.   The route followed country roads and seeing row after row of Idaho potatoes brought back hosts of great teenage memories.   I even enjoyed the pungent “dairy air” smell of the occasional milk barn I passed.   And the run wasn’t excruciating, a fact I completely appreciated.     The sun, predicted to pound down on us, bringing with it temperatures in the high 90’s, spent the day shrouded by clouds instead.    The overcast skies were a tremendous tender mercy.
 
Always, a week or two before a race and again in the moments before I start a race, I question my sanity.   Why do I sign up for these things?  Why?  WHY?  I have many other things to do with my time and many other places to spend my money……
 
Often (almost always, in fact) I question my sanity during the race.   Why did I sign up for this?   This is hard.   And it hurts.
 
But, always, ALWAYS, at the end of a race, there is a story.    And life is the stories you can tell.

Spudman 2016 is now a story.   And the story is a good one.
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The Best Thing

7/17/2016

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“What is the best thing you have ever done?”
 
Chick’s question, sent from a computer in Everett, WA and undoubtedly inspired by his mantle as a missionary, begged a more-thoughtful, less-glib response than I could immediately muster.   
 
Hum…….
 
What was the best thing I’d ever done?
 
My mind went immediately to accomplishments, things I’d done for which I’d received public recognition—most of which happened in a small (but very significant—GO DIGGERS!!!!)  high school in Idaho.   They include:
  • Three time state champion and record holder in the 300m hurdles
  • Homecoming Royalty
  • Recipient of the Spencer W. Kimball Scholarship from BYU
 
Those were truly great times in my life.    My peers gave me a standing ovation when I won the first state championship.   The feeling of total acceptance and genuine goodwill I felt at that assembly is one that still warms my soul.    And the complete, jaw-dropping, heart-pounding, “Is this really happening to me” feeling I had when a masculine voice on the other end of the line (phones had cords back then) said “Congratulations on being a 1983 Kimball Scholar” still qualifies as best surprise I have ever received.    But were these the best things I have ever done?   I hope not!
 
I’ve also done some truly cool—I mean completely and thoroughly awesome—things, including (but not limited to):
  • Snorkeling with sea lions in the Galapagos Islands
  • Hiking with mountain goats in Alaska
  • Watching the Broadway cast of “Les Miserables” perform in Los Angeles
  • Going through Cataract Canyon (a  “particularly hazardous and isolated 14 miles section of the Colorado River”) in a four man (actually three men and one woman—me!) raft
  • Being there when Michael Johnson was the first man to win gold in the 200m and 400m at the Olympic games  
 
The Galapagos Islands were an incredible paradise; playing “fin-sy” (like playing footsie but with the lion’s fins and my fingers) was only one of the magical moments.   Stepping around blue-footed boobie nests and admiring dolphin-generated bioluminescence were also spell binding.    On the opposite end of the biome spectrum, Alaska’s wild beauty still ranks as my favorite.    Watching mini-van sized grizzlies graze in a meadow, hiking beside Exit Glacier to admire the seemingly endless Hardling Ice Field (1,100 square miles of ice randomly punctured by mountain peaks), skinny dipping in the almost-icy waters of the Gulf of Alaska—one truly lives life to the fullest there.   
 
As stunning as Alaska’s beauty was, it did not match the pure power of the feelings I had watching “Les Miserables”--
 
“Do you hear the people sing, lost in the valley of the night?
 It is the music of a people who are climbing to the light…..
For the wretched of the earth there is a flame that never dies. 
Even the darkest night will end and the sun will rise.
 
They will live again in freedom in the garden of the Lord.  
They will walk behind the plough-share, they will put away the sword…
Do you hear the people sing?  Say, do you hear the distant drums? 
 It is the future they will bring when tomorrow comes….Tomorrow comes!
 
Nor has anything matched the pure terror I felt as I viewed the house-sized holes in Cataract Canyon’s turbulent waters.   With complete conviction I said to myself, “I am going to die”.   I was wrong, thankfully.   I lived.  (YEA!)  I lived to experience the spirit of the Olympics, a feeling of international brotherhood and goodwill that mimics Zion.  When Johnson won his historic gold, we were sitting in an international crowd and everyone, irrespective of nation of origin, erupted in celebration.   I did not speak the language of the huge Russian who spontaneously gave me a celebratory embrace but I certainly understood his hug…..
 
Cool things.  Yes!!  But the best thing I have ever done?   No.
 
I have also done some eternally significant things.  I served an honorable LDS mission among a chosen people under a truly visionary President.     I am sealed to man who is “loving and kind and thoughtful”  (God’s words…and I agree!), a man with whom I anticipate spending time and all eternity.    I am mother to four cherished children who bring a joy into my life that is truly unfathomable [Definition of unfathomable:  immeasurable, impossible to comprehend] —greater than the Galapagos,  Alaska, Les Miserables, Cataract Canyon, and the Olympics combined.  
 
Does one of these sacred experiences qualify as the best thing I have ever done?
 
No.
 
The best thing I have ever done is establish a personal daily habit of scripture study and prayer.  By consistently and conscientiously studying the scriptures I have come to know God.    And by consistently and sincerely praying, I have come to trust Him.
 
I know I have a Father in Heaven who knows and loves me personally.    I know I have a Savior who died for me, who invested His all in my success, and who will redeem me if I let Him.   I know I can and will receive divine guidance, comfort, and power when I prayerfully petition.
 
This knowledge gives me the foundation upon which everything meaningful in my life stands.   Every decision I make, every action I take, the way I process  thoughts and feelings,  the way I face  challenges, the way I pursue success, indeed everything I  say, think, do,  everything I am is influenced by the knowledge that God loves me and by the trust that love inspires. 
 
This knowledge gives me peace—peace “which passeth all understanding” (Philippians 4:7), hope—an assurance of good things to come, and joy—pure happiness.       And this peace-invoking, hope-providing, joy-producing knowledge has come to me though consistent, persistent prayer and scripture study.    Developing a habit of daily scripture study and personal prayer is unquestionably the best thing I have ever done.
 
It can be the best thing you ever do too.

Love,
Teresa

Note: All images have been taken from Google Images and are labeled for noncommercial reuse.


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Tender Mercies, Tender Teeth and the Badlands Too!

7/10/2016

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“It hurts!  Mom, it hurts SO bad!!”
 
Thursday night was a rough one.   Inside a tent at Pactola campground, South Dakota, neither Miles nor I slept much.  He tossed, turned, pounded the ground with his fist in pain, and then accepted my invitation to crawl in to my arms where he continued to toss and turn though the ground pounding stopped.   Earlier in the day a molar abscessed and as the day’s hours waned, the tooth’s pain augmented.   It was not pretty.
 
The pain was not pretty and neither was the scenario.    Headed into the 4th of July weekend, we knew it was a fix-the-tooth-Friday-or-wait-until-we-got-home-on-Wednesday situation.   Our knowledge of dentists in the area was limited (zero, actually) but our knowledge of the goodness of LDS people was unlimited (basically infinite) so we headed to Rapid City with high hopes.
 
About five minutes outside of Rapid City we got cell service.   Grace searched lds.org for bishops in the area and randomly called one of the five names that showed up.   At 9:00 a.m. on a Friday morning Bishop Policky was at home.  Lance explained the situation and asked him if he knew of any dentists in the area that would see a non-patient.  (Many dentists service only current patients and many dentists do not work on Friday.)   Bishop said there was a dentist in his ward whom he would call and then promised to get back with us.   By this time we had entered Rapid City (population 70,000+) and were slowly driving through it as we awaited the return call.
 
Within minutes Bishop Policky was on the phone again with Lance.   Dr. Taylor would see Miles, he would be in his office until noon, and the address was 2620 Jackson Blvd.     Gratefully we asked Google to find the location for us.  She (the voice sounds feminine…) searched for a moment, found her bearings, and the first thing she said was “Your destination is on the left.”    In our random wanderings we had meandered right to the dentist’s office.  There it was.   On the left. Miles’ tender tooth met God’s tender mercy in Rapid City and it was all good.
 
The dentist tender mercy was perhaps the trip’s most significant tender mercy but it was not the trip’s only one.   On our 2016 South Dakota trip, taken June 29-July 5 with the Drago family, tender mercies ran rampant.    Following is a partial list:
 
  • If you are ever in Evanston, WY anytime close to breakfast, stopping at Jody’s Diner is a must.  The food is divine.
  • Michelle and I were hiking to Harney’s Peak (the highest point east of the Rockies and west of the Pyrenees in Europe) when we came to a branch in the trail.   The marker said “Harney Peak Look Out”.  We did not want to look at the peak, we wanted to climb it and so we continued on the main path.   Two steps later a man appeared and asked us for directions to Harney Peak.   As a direct result of his question, we learned that the branch to Harney Peak Look Out was indeed the trail we wanted.  We were spared who know how much extra hiking and granted a spectacular view from the look out at the top of Harney’s Peak.
  • At the ISEF International Science Fair, in the hotel lobby, I randomly connected with a man from South Dakota who recommended we eat at Alpine Inn in Hill City.   “You get a filet mignon steak, quarter wedge of lettuce, potato and garlic toast for only $14 and it is fabulous,” I was told.     He was right.
  • Grace, Brandon, and I wanted to do the Wilding Cave Tour at Jewel Caves.    Participants must pass through an 8 ½ x 24 inch crawl space to be eligible to go on the tour.  Brandon did it easily, Grace did it without even touching the top, and I made it through—barely—only after exhaling.    When we went to sign up for the tour, there were only two spots left.   I know it was a tender mercy that there were spots for Grace and Brandon—they had a true life-is-the-stories-you-can-tell experience.   I suspect it may have been a tender mercy that there was not a spot for me.    My knees may not have been strong enough for the climbing required.
  • Miles, Lance, and Joe tapped into a perch perfect spot in the Pactola reservoir.  They were pulling perch from the water as fast as they could bait their hooks.    It really did not matter that some of the perch were small enough to fit in a gold fish bowl.  They had a great time.
  • We almost did not go to Badlands National Park.   “Who wants to look over a waste land?” I thought.   But the need to go to Rapid City (for a tooth extraction and for caving clothes, boots, and knee and elbow pads) put us on the road to the Badlands and rain (pouring down almost all day) put us off the hiking trails in the Black Hills.   Touring the Badlands became our best option.   What a tender mercy!   They were stunning.  STUNNING!   Kind-of like a combination of Goblin Valley, a smaller Grand Canyon and Bryce Canyon with it’s own array of vivid colors, the Badlands were absolutely spectacular, even in the rain.   We ignored the “Beware of rattle snakes”  and “Take lots of water” warnings and watched first hand as Mother Nature shaped the hills, soil streaming down them in rivulets of muddy water.
  • At the Ten Sleep 4th of July rodeo (Ten Sleep, WY, population 260) we found seats under the pavilion, a tender mercy that shielded us from the micro storm that sent canopies reeling in the wind and that soaked the rodeo royalty and from the sun that mercilessly blazed in the micro storm’s wake.     
  • Brandon and Grace were not charged by the mother moose that they encountered grazing with her baby on the shores of West Ten Sleep Lake.   (Moose injure more people than grizzlies and black bears combined.)
  • The marble sized hail that pounded Rapid City while we were attending church did not visit our tents in Pactola Campground, 17 miles away.
  • There were no mosquitoes at Pactola.
  • At Mt. Rushmore I (finally) figured out that Teddy Roosevelt and FDR are two different people.   I also experienced a rush of patriotism at the evening’s Lighting Ceremony.   What a wonderful tender mercy it is to live in this great country!
 
It is an incredible blessing to be an American.   It is also an incredible blessing to be able to travel and share great experiences with our great family and great friends.  Great, great, GREAT!
 
Have a great week!

Teresa

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Washington, Jefferson, Teddy Roosevelt, Lincoln
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Pactola Reservoir
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The Badlands in the rain
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Erosion in action
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Miles and Lance .....
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...and Miles and Brandon out of action.
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Wild Caving Tour before picture
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Wild Caving Tour after picture. Brandon and Grace threw their clothes away.
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While the teens caved, the mother hiked. Michelle and Teresa at the Harney Peak lookout.
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The Black Hills have some narrow tunnels...
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...and some very ....
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...good looking teens!
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Mommy Moose and Jr.
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West Ten Sleep Lake
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    Teresa Hislop
    thislop@msn.com

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