LEAVE NOTHING!

Taking my turn on the front

Leave Nothing…empty the tank out…bring everything you have…monitor all systems…and in the end…you will know that there was nothing else to give.  That’s kind  of how I race…how I train…how I live…and sometimes it bites you in the butt.  Just ask Jackie Henson or Jim Craig…my first Hotter N Hell 100 miler…where I went out so fast that that I suffered like an animal the last 40 miles…and it cost me so much time…just to finish.  There is that balance…and knowing how much is left…and how far you have to go…and now as the older I get…the level in the tank seems to change…

 Last year was the first year we rode Beauty and Beast…67 miles of rolling hills in East Texas…then at mile 62…the BEAST…a hill that literally takes something special…and Last year, I rode hard…but rode fairly conservatively…finished well…just over the 4 hour mark…and rather pain free.  But this year I had a goal…3hrs 45min.  So at 9:00 AM, Michael, Amber, and I toe the line. We had trained hard…Had worked on leg strength…lots of heavy weights with lots of reps…I had gotten my cardio up well…hours on top of hours of the trainer…my last outside ride was last Sunday with Legacy…and cooking off 25 miles…most around 23 mph…and I felt great.  Saturday East Texas weather was far from perfect…temps at start were 50 degrees…with rain and chance of thunderstorms…and the wind…well, the wind had picked up too.  I mentioned that I tend to start out fast…too fast.  Amber and I had talked…she was to hold me back…for the first 10 miles…let her do the work…tuck in behind…get in the rhythm.  Michael’s intention was to finish as last year he was in a big crash at mile 2.  He was to ride his race.

Pre Race...

As to plan…for the first 10 miles…hill after hill…Amber and I hammer it out…then at mile 10…on a climb…I get with 6 other guys….we were off…into a pace line…up and down…climbing well…each taking a turn on the front…on the few intermittent flats…we are cruising 21-23 mph…my heart rate is in check…onward…hill after hill…and as we go on…I notice that the pace line is getting shorter…at mile 20 we were down to 5…mile 25…down to 4…mile 30…well…only 2 of us left…a guy named Todd…and me…there wasn’t enough fat on Todd to make gravy…and he could climb...he was a stronger rider…and at mile 40…he was on his own…I couldn’t stay up.  

Five in a Pace Line...my turn in the back

And then there were 3...Climbing...Me, Todd to the right...unknown in black

  

Don "The Sherpa" …a friend of ours was in his car…monitoring Amber’s and my progress…at mile 54 rest stop… he pulls up and says you are riding like crazy…keep it up.  I asked if he knew of Michael and Amber…he replied he didn’t know about Michael but Amber is about 18 minutes behind.  I knew I was flirting with that ragged edge…I was feeling cramping in my quads, sartorius, abductors, and the hamstrings…all the muscles crucial in powering a bicycle.  I hadn’t stayed on top of my electorolytes…with the cool temps I probably hadn’t hydrated like I should although I was monitoring water intake…I really probably should have supplemented with S! Caps…but I hadn’t…and now I was taking in potassium in banana form…but every endurance guy will tell you…when it gets to this point…it’s too late.  I was just hoping to hang on for another 13 miles…that’s all…30 to 45 minutes…and I was about 7 minutes ahead of goal....just hang on…hang on…will the body.

The brain fires a signal to the neurons for the muscle to contract…to work…The action potential propagates by activating voltage-gated sodium channels along the axon toward the neuromuscular junction. When it reaches the junction, it causes a calcium ion influx through voltage-gated calcium channels. Calcium, Sodium and Potassium ions begin the reaction…through a biochemical process the muscle fiber membrane becomes less negative…triggering an action potential on the cellular level. If those ions get dangerously low…if there is not electrical potential between the muscle fibers...then the muscles will not work…regardless of how many times the brain demands that they function. 

Michael...before the suffering
 

At mile 57…on a small climb…I am out of the saddle…if I sit…my hamstrings go into a cramp…if I stand…my quads contract…and now the cramping was to the point where the legs literally seized up…the pain is excruciating…I am off the bike…sitting …legs out straight…the quads SCREAM…I bend my leg slightly for relief on the quad…and the hamstring locks…then the abductors…the sartorius…I am helpless…I have been watching my time…10 miles left…if I can just get back on the bike…I can still push and make the goal…the athletes mind is clouded…the reasoning unreal…and after ten minutes…I get back on the bike…things seem slightly better…

Funny Pic of Amber - failure to control speed, taken and captioned by Don "the Sherpa"

I am back…proceeding with caution…and still pushing like demons are close at hand…at mile 61.5…right before you climb the beast…there is a small steep hill…I am climbing…preparing mentally for what is at hand…and the legs seize…the pain is unreal…my mind tells…no demands that the legs operate…there are no sodium ions left…nothing…I fall off my bike…on the side of the road…and I try to get relief…there is none.  An older gentleman had seen both of my cramping incidents…and he responds, “you are done…you have nothing left.”  I refuse…but I can’t even get off the ground…for 5 minutes…I try to will myself to even get up with out the cramping.  I have cramped before…during long brutal races…on the bike…on the run…but this had taken the cake.  I am laying on the ground…I see Don pull up in his black VW…I see Amber riding…her red jacket…she gets off the bike…Don starts to run…and then a pick up truck pulls up.  Mentally I am telling myself only 5 miles left, but I can’t even get up.  For 3 hours 20 minutes I had ridden like the Devil’s Own was in pursuit of my soul.  Amber and Don pick me up…I mutter about give me a minute…let me get back on the road…and Amber whispers, “no…it’s over.”  They get me in the truck…somebody puts my bike in the back…I have no idea who this is.  The man had been following a couple of friends in the race.  He looks over and says, “I have been seeing you all day…I reckon you were in the top ten.” (Top ten…of the non elites) “And that gal that stopped…she can ride too…I bet she may be the top female.”  This gives no comfort…top ten doesn’t count unless you finish.

I get back to the start…Don helps me rack my bike…I can hardly walk with cramping…I start the recovery process…salt…water…salt.  Amber makes it in…incredible ride…around 4 hours….in rain…wind…cold.  We eat…converse...and wait…Michael finishes his race.  Amber looks over at me…and knows what is going on in my head…”Dave…you rode incredible…fast...you just have a few hydration/electrolyte issues of figure out.”  She knows this will eat at me FOREVER….to ride that well…only to have one mistake take you out.  I used to have this dialed in…but it seems that it has changed a bit.

It eats at me…the only solace I take…is that I LEFT NOTHING…absolutely NOTHING!

p.s.  The most amazing thing I saw all day…is Michael, who self mandates the most strict diet, actually celebrated his race finish with a hot dog.  I myself…not only had a hot dog…but a bowl of ice cream when I got home.

(all pics save the last one courtesy of Don "The Sherpa")

 

 

I Survived the Triumph and all I got was this Lousy T Shirt

And the piano, it sounds like a carnival
And the microphone smells like a beer
And they sit at the bar and put bread in my jar
And say, "Man, what are you doin' here?"

Sing us a song you're the piano man
sing us a song tonight
well we're all in the mood for a melody
and you got us all feeling alright.

 

All six of us sitting around the “Piano Man” Singing laughing, celebrating…the past 48 hours had been a time to laugh till we cried, tell stories from times past, and celebrate the life we were blessed with…for we were all turning 40…yes….these dear friends from high school had known my highs and lows for the past 30 years...and now all of singing as the Piano Man played well known hits…as he geared up for our last song…we reveled the memories of the day…feet in the sand on a Cozumel beach…me in a hammock…reading….and not one of my four beloved children requesting one thing.  The piano started ringing out the familiar notes of Christopher Cross’s “Sailing”

Well, it's not far down to paradise, at least it's not for me
And if the wind is right you can sail away and find tranquility
Oh, the canvas can do miracles, just you wait and see.
Believe me

Sailing takes me away to where I've always heard it could be
Just a dream and the wind to carry me
And soon I will be free

And so after a long day…we retire to our cabins…great memories made…great friends to cherish…and a fire in the engine room.

 

Yep….at 0530 on Sunday Morning they come on the loud speaker and tell us that there is a fire in engine room…but not to worry…it was under control…everybody was safe…and we may experience issues with power….we were told that we didn’t need to form up at the muster stations...you know....the place you had to get in a life boat, but you had to wonder.  At the required "muster drill" when you first got on the boat, the crew mentioned that the absolute worse thing was if there was a fire on board.  My thoughts….it’s usually not good to go from a big boat to a tiny boat when you can’t see land and any direction....and WE JUST HAD A FIRE ON BOARD!

Things seemed under control at the time…I didn’t realize how massive the fire was till I got home and saw pictures.  All six began to gather on the deck...still in jovial moods…not really knowing what all this entailed…or the ordeal that lay ahead.

 

What now needs to be noted…if you don’t already know…I HATE CAMPING…mainly for the reasons that there is no electricity, no running water with a bathroom right next to my bed…and there is no bed…or more specifically…I never can sleep well in a tent and air mattress.

The rest of that day had more questions than answers…like Why is this boat listing so far to the port side…what do you mean I have to do my “business” in a red bio hazard bag…and pee in the shower because we can't flush…are you kidding me…this sounds a lot like camping.  That evening another Carnival cruise ship pulled up next to the Triumph to off load supplies…food and such.  We all could get a cell phone signal from the near by vessel so I call Dave and told him what was going on.  He had gotten a recorded message from Carnival with the vague details that there was a fire but nobody was hurt. 

Dave had been holding down the home front since Thursday morning.  His mom had come into help with the baby so he could get some work done and still get the others to school and their activities. 

That first night with no power was a long night…there was no air conditioning…and the stale air, now pungent with the putrid odor of humid waste, just hung there…suspended in the cabin to be endured.  As the days would go on the ammonia from the urine would sear the lungs.  

Monday morning…still lots of unanswered questions…we knew that the boat was dead in the water…that tugs were on there way…and that the Coast Guard was present.  At the time, the plan was for the tugs to pull us to Progreso Mexico when they arrived.  We where told that we were about 150 miles from the Mexican town.  We began to break the day down into 4 hour increments of survival.  Food was being distributed but not rationed properly as some began hoarding.  Things you saw reported about raw sewage running down the walls was true….the carpets were soaked with urine running out of the toilets.  At one time we were dipping urine out of the toilets with cups and pouring in the shower…to prevent it from running into our room.

By late Monday the tugs had shown up…but at this point we were told we had drifted 90 miles towards the US and would be towed into Mobile Alabama.

Hours begin to run together…the fabric of the ordeal begins to blend into a single hue.  Waiting hours in lines for food…waiting to charge phone in case there is a vessel with service that drifts within range.  A group of us would begin to hold nightly Bible studies Monday evening…we were reminded  "Have not I commanded you? Be strong and courageous. Do not be terrified; do not be discouraged, for the Lord your God will be with you wherever you go." - Joshua 1:9.  That the God that created the Heavens and the Earth…that separated the day into night and the water from the land…still was at the helm as we peered in the dark abyss of the night….total darkness…to be renewed by the light in the morning…and with the light the hope of a new day…and thoughts begin to wander…”How is Dave doing with the kids…did he remember I was the homeroom mom for Macy’s Valentine Party…and Luke has church on Wednesday night…and all the responsibility of the Girl Scout Cookie mom that were due this week.”  The answer would soon come.  He didn’t miss a beat…he called all the right people…squared it all away…and still  got some work done.

You learn what your limits are…I can walk through urine…and not bath for 5 days…I can eat onion sandwiches…but I had to shave my legs every other day…just something I had to do. 

The six of us didn’t sign up for this…but the bond that we now share…the conversations that will stay on that boat about red bags and peeing in shower…the laughs…the tears…the good and the bad…I know one thing…we may all 6 be at a party with other friends we have…and we can look across the room and know we were there.  My husband talks about the bond he has with some of his Marine buds…forged in the fire of adversity...I now understand first hand exactly what he means.

The ship begins the arduous journey up the Mobile channel…with no room for error.  On Friday about midnight…we were off that stinking boat…and on a bus to Galveston…and then on to Dallas…Home.  I went straight to the Doctor to get blood work and hepatitis shot.  Dave picked me up there and took me home.  My kids to hug…a hot shower to take…a hot meal to eat…a warm bed for which to sleep…and wait…there is no odor to endure…and so I count my blessing…give thanks to the Lord…there is the decrescendo of the tune “Piano Man”…to be replaced with crescendo of the famous Hymn…”It is Well With My Soul” 

 

Though Satan should buffet, though trials should come,
Let this blest assurance control,
That Christ has regarded my helpless estate,
And hath shed His own blood for my soul.

When peace like a river, attendeth my way,
When sorrows like sea billows roll;
Whatever my lot, Thou hast taught me to say,
It is well, it is well, with my soul.

and as my husband always says…WE SHALL PRESS ON!

Written by Dave Elliott

Edited by Bren Elliott

Realistic Christmas Letter 2012

FROM DEEP IN THE HEART OF TEXAS ...MERRY CHRISTMAS

Well…you didn’t get a letter last year did you?…and I bet you kneeled down and thanked the Lord that you didn’t have to read the goings on with the Elliott Family 2011…frankly I didn’t want to read that either…and remember, I lived it….at least most of it…Keep in mind I wasn’t the one pregnant…so I didn’t have to live that part of it…  Bren got pregnant, we had a boy on Dec 22…three days earlier my mom broke her hip in my house… and all the kids  got  tattoos…ok that part was a lie.  Bren got a tattoo…ok …that was lie also. But my wife has asked for me to write a letter….and I guess you want details…so here we go…where do I begin?

2011…Where the heck do I begin…First…one early 5:30 morning I come in from working out and look at my phone…there was an email from Oprah…”Congratulations Dave, You have won tickets to a show taping.”  Yep…Bren had already been to one taping…and asked that I put in tickets to another taping…and I WON…I had never been so disappointed that I won.  The rules are that you can take anyone...but the person who won has to go and with ID…so here I am on the hook to go to OPRAH…I would much rather get a tattoo burned off with a torch…but I love my honey…and off we go to Chicago in FREAKING FEBRUARY 2011.  Heck…we can’t even catch a game at Wrigley field.  All in all, we laughed a lot and had a great little trip to the Windy City. 

In May…uh…on Mother’s Day , I was scheduled to go with a group of friends to run the Grand Canyon Rim to Rim to Rim…43 miles total…down from the South Rim…up to the North Rim…And then turn around and come back…15 to 20 hours.  Well,  5 days before we leave, I get carted off to the ER with a bacterial virus in the small intestine…and all the kitchen passes I got for going to Oprah went to the ER Doctor…along with a large amount of cash.

In April 2011 we learned that Bren was pregnant with number 4…do I need to explain how that happened? …ok…well hear it goes…just kidding...I ain’t writing “50 Shades of Gray” or whatever…Where was I?...oh…ok…she got pregnant….To be really frank, it was a very stressful pregnancy….It was a tough time.  The baby was due around Christmas (remember 2011…now you see why you didn’t get a letter)…so my mother agreed to move in for a couple of months…spend Christmas and help out with the baby. She wasn’t in our house 15 minutes before she slipped on the marble floor in our foyer…the rain outside caused that floor to be slick as ice…and now I have 6 paramedics and a mom with a broken hip in my house.  She had surgery the next evening…and the baby was born 2 days later…at another hospital…uh, 45 minutes away.  I remember sitting on my couch one evening by myself…exhausted…beaten from the year…and just thinking…Christmas…”and you shall call Him Emmanuel, ‘God With Us’ “…and how I needed to know that right then.

We never found out the sex of the baby till birth, and we were all pleasantly surprised that it was a boy!…and when Luke found out he had a little brother, we could have taken all his Christmas gifts back…he was so excited.  Macy and Hope were excited too…and now it all fell into place…two boys and two girls.

Moving on to 2012…

Luke is now in 6^th grade…he is doing really well…in the band…playing the trumpet…played baseball too...catcher and centerfield.  He crossed over from Cub Scouts to Boy Scouts in January 2012…and has done extremely well, making the rank of Second Class in 9 months…and loving every bit of it.   He is active in the Junction 56 preteen program at Church…and now I am learning he has girls that text him…and call him…and wait…I am not ready for this. 

 

Macy is 9…going on 29…joking…but not really….she just finished her 5^th season playing softball for the “Speedy Hamsters” where she plays catcher…is in School Choir…and Girl Scouts…and doing incredibly well with all her endeavors.  Sometimes we go on Daddy – Daughter dates…and I just love to hang out with her…she is bright…funny…mature…and just sitting and talking is a great time for both. ..AND SHE LOVES DUCK DYNASTY…heck the whole family loves that show. 

Hope…of which I call “The Edge”…because that is where she likes to live…is now 6…is in Girl Scouts…and plays Soccer…Goalie.  At this age the coach liked to rotate the players around to the different positions…till last year…when half way through the season…she told him, “Don’t pull me! The Goal is mine!”  She is sarcastic, funny, and competitive.   She keeps us laughing… 

And NOW….INTRODUCING THE 4^th PITCHER IN THE ROTATION…

Kyle Ryan Elliott (named for Kyle Field where the Aggies play…and Ryan…for Nolan Ryan….)  And what a blessing…I have tied his right arm behind his back….to force him to be a left handed pitcher…that’s another lie…but I wouldn’t complain if he is left handed.  He is one laid back kid…and he laughs a lot…and his brother and sisters adore him. 

Bren somehow keeps it all together…my gosh…I don’t understand how she does that….dinners…chauffer …homework teacher…and the love of my life…this year things are so much better…we went to Pine Cove Family Camp in August 2012…all of us…and things just seem to fit right into place…like someone had a master plan all along. 

As for me…I am going on 11 years as a straight commission salesman with Timberlake & Dickson…I am still doing the endurance athlete thing…100 miles on the bike…miles of running…but really loving the bike…Still playing ball with the kids…active with the Scouts….still doing Magic…kinda…writing a book…at this rate I may finish when I am 90…. 

So we close another couple of years…and time marches on….things change…but in this Holiday Season, we bow and worship the One that does not change, the One that remains steadfast, the One that is the Rock.  Merry Christmas to you and yours. 

 Love,

Dave, Bren, Luke, Macy, Hope, and Kyle Elliott 

“Do not be anxious about anything, but in every situation, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God.  And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.”

Philippians 4:6-7

THE SPARTAN BEAST

I have loved the study of the Sparta Culture…and the 300 Spartans that fought to the death at Thermopylae…annihilating the tens of thousands of King Xerxes’ illustrious army.  I have read Steven Pressfield’s account of the battle in the “Gates of Fire”… now required reading for all U.S Marines. 

And thus, a company has marketed a series of races around this Spartan Warrior Ethos…an adventure race with full body fitness in mind… the Spartan Motto: Return with your shield;  or on it.  Legend has that the mother of the Spartan warrior uttered these words to her son when she presented him the elements for battle.

In late August after Hotter N Hell 100 mile cycling event, my work out partners, Michael, Amber and myself discussed this Spartan Beast race.  We talked about how it was 13+ miles long…that there would be 30 obstacles…that it would take place in early December when the weather would be unpredictable.   We agreed to do it as a team...and thus the training began.  The details of the obstacles are not given…the race organizers want the element of surprise.  But what is known is  that not only do you need the stamina and endurance to run 13 miles across brutal terrain…but enough core and upper body strength to negotiate the unknown surprises. 

So the training commenced…building up the run on the weekend…some cardio during the week…and heavy weights…5 sets of 5 reps to failure…all muscle groups…chest, back, shoulders, arms, legs…I remember getting up from the leg press…after 50 total reps of 350 lbs…and uttering to Amber, “I can’t walk.”  It was her leading the way in the weight room…incredible strength.  We did core…we did pull ups…we used kettle bells…we did bricks…run a mile…then 4 heavy weight exercises to build strength and endurance…we did “Crossfit” work outs every Wednesday…heavy weights done quickly with no recovery…station after station for an hour.  Since Marine boot camp, I had not been in this good of overall fitness.  On problem though…somewhere along the way I had hurt my lift side…I think it happened when I was bear crawling while lifting two 35 lbs dumb bells…moving the 70 lbs across the floor…near the rib cage…maybe an oblique muscle…it  seemed not to be too bad…but I could feel it.

Michael, Amber and I were driven by our buddy Don “the Sherpa” to Granbury early on Saturday morning…a 2 hour jaunt from where we live…for our 8:30 AM Start.  

Blessed with mild weather….upper 50’s to lower 60’s….we line up to toe the line I look around and notice that nearly every participant seemed to be ½ our age.  They start each heat with 300 runners…symbolizing the 300 at Thermopylae.  As we are ready to go…they tell us that the Spartan Beast is the hardest race they allow people to sign up for (they offer 2 shorter races…and one Death race that is by invitation only.)  They went on to say that this terrain and distance provided the most difficult Beast of the year as well….Oh Joy!

The race is off…300 hundred of us run through Greek Columns and smoke.  I mentioned that there are 30 obstacles…and about ½ mile into it they wasted no time in getting you wet and muddy…into a series of trenches with water and mud mounds to scramble  up and over.   There were 8 foot walls to bound over…barbed wire to crawl under….mud included…50 yards of it all the while they spray you with a fire hose.  As soon as you seem to dry out…more water and mud…streams to cross that are chest deep.  The first 4 miles focused on a Rusty Crown hill…straight up…straight down…one point carrying a 30 lb sand bag…it seemed straight up…maybe a 45% grade…and I slipped and caught myself…and at that point I felt something tear loose on my left side where the oblique injury had occurred. Back down the hill with the sand bag.  I knew that this was going to hurt in the morning…every time I would engage the core muscles when running, I would feel pains shoot up and down my side….and I thought….these next 9 miles aren’t going to be pretty…mile 5…fill a five gallon bucket of sand…carry up the hill….back down…and dump it.  Because of the pain, I could hardly lift it up over the wall to dump out the sand…only with Amber and Michael’s help. We pressed on…at this point I noticed Amber was struggling with her breathing…her asthma was acting up before we started this race.  The chilled wet conditions…her cough was getting worse…she no longer could talk…and I envisioned her being carted off in an ambulance…we still had over 2 1/3 hours left.  Part of being a team is recognizing when someone is in trouble…mainly because people that partake in this stuff are tough and too hardheaded to quit…most will continue until they literally kill themselves.  At mile 8, I suggested that she be done.  Amber is as tough as they come…she doesn’t know “quit”…she is intense, strong, and determined.  We had crawled through some really dark holes in endurance cycling together and I knew it would not sit well with her.  After a brief discussion, she reluctantly agreed. 

Michael and I press on…and the next obstacle …a 100 yard swim in 54 degree water.  Michael is a swimmer…and me…well…I got across but it wasn’t pretty.  Now I had a different problem… about 10 minutes after the swim….Michael was shivering uncontrollable…his lips were purple…and the preliminary symptoms of hypothermia were showing.  We come up to the next obstacle… a rope traverse…over more water…and Michael wasn’t looking any better.  He looked at me and stuttered through shivering lips…I really don’t want to get in the water again.  I said, “Michael, go take the 30 burpee penalty for not successful completing and obstacle and maybe that will start to warm you up.”  I missed ringing the bell on the rope traverse by about 10 feet…so I got wet AND had to do 30 burpees. (all of us had to do the burpees  only  a hand full of times for failing proper negotiation of the obstacle...most obstacles were successfully completed)  We started down the road again and I noticed that Michael’s condition was improving…and he seemed to be doing better.  I didn’t tell him how close I was to calling Medics over and having him withdraw from the race.

 

More running…more obstacles…rope climbs…flipping tractor tires …farmers walk with 100 pound concrete blocks …more 8 foot walls to scale over…wadding through watered trenches…relentless…and with each obstacle my side screamed to quit…NO MAS!…I remember at one point looking  at Michael and asking, “Have you ever had to dig this deep?”  He replied, “I don’t think so.”  “Isn’t it AWESOME!” I exclaimed.  I meant it too.  I don’t know if he agreed as he looked at me like I had lost it.   On we continued…more water…more mud…jump over the fire…face the Spartan Warriors with Pugil sticks at the finish line.  I was spent completely…bruised…battered…We were Done!

 

 

Pound for pound…mile for mile….this was the most brutal of a race I had ever done.

Now I had another issue…somehow I needed to pull my body together for the next day.  Five days early I had received a call asking if I could fill in to run the first 5 mile leg of the Dallas Marathon Relay.  I replied sure…it’s only 5 miles.  What I didn’t take into account was how beat up I would be from the Spartan Beast…and I definitely didn’t count on my rib/oblique’s having such acute pain.  At 5:30 Sunday morning, I find myself up and getting ready for the Marathon Relay.  I ran it…nothing epic…shuffling as fast as I could with shallow breathing (breathing deep hurt too much)…honestly I was physically and emotionally spent…so when I handed off…at the 5 mile marker 49:37…I just kneeled and prayed…for healing…for being blessed to do this stuff…and now off to make a ginger bread house with my daughter…that is good start to recovery.  And So WE PRESS ON!

 cleaned up and going home

P.S.  My 11 year old son Luke, performed his first Repel this past weekend…a 125 foot drop off of an abandoned grain silo…at night...In the dark.  Looks like he is well on his way to being “High Speed”…which makes me happy happy happy!  

All pics courtesy of Don Westbrook and Spartan Racing

The Brutallity of Parenting...and the Ultimate Too

Parenting is tough….there…I said it…sometimes tough crosses over to brutal…at least for the parent and especially when you see your kid suffering through some growing pains of life.

My oldest son had a tough 4^th grade year.  Where friends he had from his kindergarten years turned on him…where being “giving a hard time” became bullying.  We navigated those murky waters together. I told him about times when it happened to me as a kid…we talked about qualities of a true friend….and people in general.  I told him that although, right at this moment, it seems really really dark…that you will come through this a better person…you will know who your real friends are….and you will learn more about people that will serve you well in life….and you will look back on this as only a small hiccup of life.

We talked about what the Bible said about such incidents....and then I shared with him one of my favorite poems….IF…by Rudyard Kipling. 

That was over 2 years ago. 

This school year, He came to me and said that he had to memorize a poem in School…that it had to be between 10 to 20 lines long.  He went on to say that he selected “IF”.  I responded, “The poem was a lot longer than 20 lines”…and “Why did you select that one?” “Dad,” he responded, “When you shared that with me, it meant the world….I will always remember that!”

These days are much better...and that is the ebb and flows here on earth.

Yep…parenting can be tough…but the rewards are the ultimate, causing the bleakness of the task to fade into the twilight of life.

IF

If you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you;
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
But make allowance for their doubting too:
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or, being lied about, don't deal in lies,
Or being hated don't give way to hating,
And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise;

If you can dream---and not make dreams your master;
If you can think---and not make thoughts your aim,
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
And treat those two impostors just the same:.
If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,
And stoop and build'em up with worn-out tools;

If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings,
And never breathe a word about your loss:
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: "Hold on!"

If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
Or walk with Kings---nor lose the common touch,
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,
If all men count with you, but none too much:
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds' worth of distance run,
Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it,
And---which is more---you'll be a Man, my son!

Rudyard Kipling