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

NOT NOW...I DON'T NEED AN INJURY

Three weeks ago I went with my son and his Scout Troop on a campout to Caprock Canyon…right on the edge of the Great Plains of Texas where Chief Quanah Parker once wreaked havoc.  On Saturday afternoon the Troop would take about a 7.5 mile hike in through the canyon.  I was going to get my running in by running ahead about ½ mile and then circling back to the troop and then do it all over again. 

The first 3 miles of the hike were benign…but after that the terrain turned brutal….like we ascended 1000 feet in 2/10 mile….I would go up and down back to the troop and then back up…this allowed for me to get my heart rate up to about 180 beat per minute while working climbing muscles.  When all was done with the hike I had only gone about 11 miles…the last ½ mile carrying a boy on my back who had twisted his ankle.  We get back to camp, and it looked like everybody was beat…but Doug had brought his mountain bike and I just couldn’t let it go unridden for the weekend…so I don my cycling shoes and went for a 45 minute trail ride before dinner.

We had dinner…all was good…and then as the night commenced I bed down on the ground.  The next morning my right hip was in pain with another pain shooting down my leg…hamstring and then calf.  Wow…this ain’t good.  I do a self diagnosis…piriformis syndrome…inflammation of small muscle in the hip region adjacent to the sciatic nerve.  BINGO!   

My bud Jennifer Kimble recommends that I go to her Chiropractor who practices Active Release Technique (ACT).  I know kinda what that is (dealing with the soft tissue)…am a bit skeptical…but I think what the heck…it can’t hurt…I can hardly walk…and I still have to get back to training…cause the Spartan Beast in a freaking month. 

Long story short…I go…he works on me for 30 minutes…I bout came off the table from the pain…I was sweating…it was rough…and the next day….WOW…less pain…like LOT LESS PAIN…and it progressively gets better. 

Here we are…a week later…and I am nearly a 100%...and through all that I only missed one workout.  This morning was Crossfit…and other than being all sorts of intense goodness for an hour…no pain in the hip. PRESS ON!

Post Mortem on a Season

Top of the 11^th inning of game six in the 2011 World Series and Josh Hamilton approaches the plate.  He is injured, pulled obliques…and then it happens…Hollywood couldn’t write it any better.  Josh hits a home run.  I sat in my living room and just knew that it was Destiny.   The champagne had been chilled…and high ranking members had been ushered down to  field…for it was bottom of the 11^th and the Rangers only had 1 out to go before being crowned world champions.  Actually they only had 1 strike to go…and the St Louis Cardinals would have none of it…and then go on and win game 7…and the world series.  It took me weeks before I didn’t think about that series on a day to day basis.  I am only a fan...and I would wonder….how would I deal with this if I were a player???
In April 2012, the Rangers seemed to have put all that behind them…as they took out of the gate as Team on a Mission…6 ½ games in first place with a record 17 and 6.  At the end of May the entire MLB community wanted to crown Hamilton as a TRIPLE CROWN WINNER!  People in the “BASEBALL KNOW’ were categorizing this team as the best in baseball…and some even said a top team in “history.”

The season carried on…the Rangers win/loss ratio came back to earth.  But through all that…something had changed.  The team’s at bats seemed to be “sub quality” at bats.  They didn’t work the pitchers count…there seemed to be no patience at that plate…just get up and try to hit the first pitch out of the yard.  Josh seemed to be the ring leader of the group.  There was no grinding out runs…stealing aggressively waned.  The end of season attempted steals show as much…50 less attempt at stealing as last year.  By September the team looked like that they were not having fun…the at bats continued to degenerate….the pitching was hit and miss.  There were injuries to the pitching staff that kept the rotation in flux.  The Texas Rangers were going through the motions….with no emotion.

Then…midway through September, Josh had health issues…flew home…ran test…and  we were told that he had drank to many “Red Bulls” and it dried out his cornea.  He returned to the team….and yet there was still no fire with this team.  That was it…no fire…the Rangers seemed wound tighter than a tick.  For the past two years it was evident…and we were told that this team had that rare and awesome locker room chemistry.  IT WAS GONE.  And WHY???  Was it because we weren’t winning…was it something to do with Josh…his free agency…and his seemingly apathetic attitude.

I have heard all my life in athletics that it is hard to beat a mediocre team two times in a row…and nearly impossible to be a good team two straight.  Yet in the last series of the season, the Oakland A’s beat what some baseball insiders deemed as the best team in baseball…THREE…3…..III….straight times.  All the Rangers had to do to win the division was win ONE….1…..I….game.  Worse….the Ranger hitting problems continued…and  after Josh missed a routine fly ball and looked apathetic in chasing it down, the fire begin to build about him, his free agency and the club house.  I thought that Josh could not have looked more relieved when the “Play In Wild Card Game” was over.

Post mortem has continued.  We learned very little from the end of the year press conference with JD, Wash…and Nolan.  Some want to blame Wash for over playing his players…much of this team is over 30…the number where physical decline commences…did we not rest our players enough…has the Team’s two post season runs taken its toll.  I don’t think so….I have never heard of the Yankees complain about how going to all those World Series just wore them out.

The mind is a strange thing.  The fragile Psyche…we herald the MLB players as super human…but they are not…they are human.  As the team closed the season out…did they reflect back to the pressure of the post season…the memories of coming within one strike away to only choke away a Championship?  Was the scab ripped off of the fresh wound of failing on the biggest stage…and the pressure of the lime light causing the team to pucker up…did they subliminally psychologically sabotage themselves?  Who knows…but it is as good as an explanation as anything else.  I know one thing…Once you have the sweet taste of the celebratory post season champagne, the beer being sipped on the couch is not near what it once was.