Death Road

Yesterday, while on our (almost) nightly bike ride, my youngest son had an interesting experience.
You see, we don't ride our bikes very often around here. We are more of a play in the back yard kind of people. But since school got out I feel it's my duty as 'mother' to make sure these kids get outside for just a few minutes a day before they rot their brains out watching cartoons on tv. Did you know cartoons are on all the time? And did you know that my oldest son can tell you what's on which channels at exactly what time? I'm thinking maybe we need to rein his remote in.

Anyways, back to the interesting experience.

We rode 2 miles to the church and for us, or should I say, for them, this was a long long long way. I mean really far. So we are headed back home and in order to get there we have this small stretch of skinny road without any bike lanes or shoulder. Basically it's a death trap for pedestrians, bike riders, and small sedans. But if you want to get home, you keep your wits about you and you pedal hard. For about 1/4 mile.

Well right before this scary road part, my baby, whose been riding in the bike trailer, falls asleep. And leans backwards. And the back part of the trailer hits the ground. Because the little pin that secures the bike trailer from collapsing has been lost for years now. It's never really been an issue before, you see, we aren't really a bike riding people. Back when we had two children who would sit in the trailer we rode bikes all the time. But that was like, what, 6 years ago. Once the little punks figured out how to ride their own bikes, we stopped going for long bike rides. Because a long bike ride now meant it would take 30 minutes to ride around the block. We haven't exactly kept the trailer in good repair since.

So anyways, my baby falls backwards, hits the asphalt, and freaks out. I stop to situate her back in. My eldest stops. My princess stops. But the kid whose been running out of gas the last 20 minutes gets his second wind. And takes off. Straight for death row.

I yell at my eldest to go after him, but he's trying to help me and my princess is stopped but she's still a ways ahead and the 5 year old is riding like the wind not paying any attention to anything around him. I get my eldest pedaling after him, with the princess right behind, and I finally am able to start in on the chase.

At this point I notice the two cars, coming from both directions, down the skinny can-really-only-fit-one-car-comfortably patch of road. And there's my punk, pedaling down the left hand side.
Oh wait, he sees the car.
Now he's veering towards the middle of the road.
There he goes straight into the middle of the road.
Both cars slow, slow, slow down to a halt.
And there's my punk, sitting on his bike, in the middle of the road, not moving.
With two very upset drivers telling him to get out of the way, and one sister yelling at him to move, and one older brother screaming at the top of his lungs to get to the side.
And the punk, he just sits there.
On his bike.
In the middle of the road.
By himself.
Finally the children reach him. They push his bike out of the way of traffic. The cars go on their merry way, throwing dirty looks in my direction. I can only imagine the words that went with the looks.

Finally I catch up to him.

Me-"Son, why on earth did you stop in the middle of the road when everyone was telling you to move to the side?"
Son- "I didn't know which side to go to."
Pause.
Son- "I don't want to go bike riding anymore."

The best part of this whole story...
No helmets were worn by anyone.

You may present me with my Mother of the Year Award now.

Lost and Found

So I found a receipt in some stuff someone gave me.

It was from Castle.

No not White Castle.

Are you worried it's yours?

$30 on a novelty item.

What could you buy with $30 at the Castle?

I'd love to hear your thoughts.

Here I Am Again

Molly.

That was the word.

The word that got me all riled up.

Molly. Not just Molly, but I was "one of the two Molliest in the whole ward", the other being the Relief Society Prez. Now hold the phone and back it up here. Me? Really, Me?! I don't think so. Let me explain why I am not:

1. Hmmm.....I know there's one, what is it, someone tell me. Please! There's gotta be a reason why I'm not a you-know-what. Gotta be. Hmmmmm...I just can't think of it right now under all this pressure.

So what's a girl to do when she's been insulted like this. Do I accept this title as no big deal, or do I fight the system? Should I start going to punk rock shows again? Although I have a very difficult time staying up past 9pm, so that really wouldn't work. Should I grow my hair out and die it blue? No, another girl in the ward already did that. What is it that I have to do to prove my coolness? I would really like to know.

Is coolness a word the young folk still use? Or do I want to be phat? I definitely don't want to be fat, that I know, although we need to work on it. We meaning me.

I should probably start by ditching the Relief Society Prez. She's gonna have to find someone else to run with, if it's going to ruin my reputation. Did you hear that friend? You'll have to find someone else to hang out with now, I'm off to regain my rebelness.

Hey, do you want to come along? Now that would be really fun. I'll bring the casserole.

Do you miss me?

Do you ever think about me, wondering what happened between me and my blog that caused us to break up so suddenly? It was a pretty nasty split. We just didn't have time for each other anymore. We've decided to get back together now, for a while, but are making no major commitments. We'll just roll with the punches and see where it takes us.

***********

I had a friend tell me she still checks my blog, to see if I've posted. Wow. I am honored. I didn't think anyone ever would check again. Thanks for sticking around all these months. I'm not making any promises, but maybe I'll post every once in a while, just to spice up your life.

The first post, post-reconciliation, will be about my calves.

Come on, bear with me.

I'm having serious problems. It seems my calves are pretty fed up with me right now. See, I've been training for this race. And it's a distance I haven't run ever. So the training program is new. And the hills are new. And the speed workouts are new.

And my calves see, they are not new.

They've been around a while. And they don't especially like it when I make them do new stuff. So to protest, as I run, they squeeze my muscle really hard, which squeezes my nerve really hard, which causes intense pain, and a really weird feeling that my foot is falling asleep. Not good when you're trying to pull a 15 miler. Not good when you just want to go out for 4. See, this isn't good for anything. And my calves, I'm pretty sure they are happy about it. Seems they want a break. So I'll give it to them.

Turns out, I'm an Ultra loser. There will be no 50K this year.

But these calves of mine, they better enjoy their little break and then whip themselves into shape, because I have a marathon to run in October. And I am not pulling out. Not no way, not no how.

Training starts at the end of May.

I cannot wait.