A Paper Star

Image from google

Guys! My heart is filled with this beautiful picture of Christmas and I must absolutely share it with you!

I would like to tell you a story. A story I witnessed where the two main characters (13 year old boys whose names have been changed) reminded me of the true meaning of Christmas.

~~The Confession~

It all started with one heartbreaking confession.

Students mingled around cutting, crafting and chatting. Most students were talking about what they were going to do on their Christmas break while others intently focused on cutting and gluing. One boy, Philip, sat a few seats away from the rest of the students. It was difficult to get him to participate.

"I've never gotten one single Christmas present in my whole life," Philip mumbled under his breath as he wrote out a Christmas card to his pen pal.

Most students, including I, didn't hear this heartfelt confession, but Jared did.

Jared is quiet and soft spoken. It takes him a few moments to get his thoughts from the depths of his inner self and out into the spoken universe, but when you let enough time hang there, something thoughtful eventually transpires. He's the kind of kid who has little at home. Very little. I can't imagine it, really, but nonetheless, he always has something to give.

On most days he brings me an apple after lunch.

"Miss Blewett, I brought you an apple from my lunch." He would always quickly place the apple on my desk and pitter-patter away to his own. This happened more days than not. He is generous even in his need. He is heartfelt and sensitive even though his home life is rough and harsh.

It was, of course, Jared who heard the heartbreaking confession everyone else ignored.

Quietly, but not discretely because teenagers hardly do anything discretely, Jared started talking to a girl nearby. They kept saying Philip's name loud enough for me to hear. I quickly walked over and asked if they needed to talk with me out in the hall. I didn't want Philip to overhear them talking about him. Philip is unpredictable and anything puts him on edge. Jared slowly and compassionately nodded yes.

"You see, Miss Blewett, I overheard Philip saying he has never ever received a Christmas gift. That is heartbreaking, just heartbreaking." He said it as if his own heart was breaking at that exact moment. He slowly continued as he paced back and forth, "I was telling Caroline that we should get him a gift, but she said that Philip is rude to everyone and he doesn't deserve a gift." He paused with thought beaming from his eyes. I knew Caroline was right about the rude part. Philip struggles socially and he can sometimes be pretty rude. For a moment, I caught myself siding with Caroline. There was even a part of me that doubted Philip's confession, but I waited, knowing if I paused long enough, something very thoughtful would transpire.

"But just because you are rude, doesn't mean you shouldn't get a Christmas gift. Everyone deserves a Christmas gift," he declared confidently.

There it was. The thought, heart and meaning of Christmas spoken straight from the mouth of a 13 year old boy.

"Oh, Jared, there are many ways to give gifts," I said this knowing he couldn't afford to buy a gift. "You could write a letter or draw a picture. You are one special kiddo to think of this, Jared," I mumbled while trying to hide the tears welling up in my eyes. "Let's go back into class. While you are working, you can think of what you could give him."

~~The Gift~~

As Jared walked back into class, I was positive he would forget about his burst of compassion. Teenagers say a lot of funny and thoughtful things and then forget when the next exciting moment comes. Surely this was one of those moments. 

The next day I was busy teaching my first block class when Jared and another teacher came in. 

"Do you mind if we leave this in here? It's the gift Jared made for Philip," the teacher said softly. Jared stood with a smile on his face. 

It was a beautiful, giant paper crafted star that could hang like an ornament or from a ceiling. It had a hand written card stapled on one end of the star and a candy cane hanging from the other end. 

"Look, I put a card on one end and a candy cane on the other," Jared whispered as he pointed proudly. 

I looked up at the teacher and smiled. It was evident she had done most of the grunt work to get the star looking so beautiful. 

They quickly rushed out of the room and I stood there feeling proud and worried all at the same time. You see, teenage boys (and girls) can be mean. We know it's just a mask to hide all their awkward, junior high insecurities, but nonetheless, kind gestures can often be received with eye rolling, smirks, and snarky thank yous. It's not that they don't truly appreciate the gesture, it's just that they don't know how to stand in the vulnerability. I was worried about how Philip would accept this gift because, all teenage hormones aside, Philip is rude, but Jared is right. Even though someone is rude or mean, doesn't mean he/she don't deserve a gift. 

I decided to pull Philip aside in class and prep him; kind of socially coach him before the gift was given to him. 

"So Philip," I started hesitantly, unsure of how he would receive my coaching. "Jared said he heard you talking yesterday about how you've never gotten a Christmas gift." I paused hoping to receive something affirming from him.  He shook his head yes. "Well, Jared felt sad about this so he made you a gift. He will give it to you after class today. Remember, when we receive a gift, we smile and say thank you." It seemed like such common sense, but for most teenagers with broken homes, common sense wasn't so common. He smiled and walked back into class. 

~~The Reveal~~

The bell rang.

"Merry Christmas, everyone! Be safe and see you in the new year! I hollered as everyone ran out of the class. For a moment I forgot about the big reveal, but Philip quickly ran up to me and waited at my side.

"Do you have a question?" I asked. 

"No." Philip whispered. "I'm just waiting for the gift and I'm trying to act surprised."

"Oh, yes! Ok. Hey Jared, do you want to give your gift now?" I asked as I made sure the room had been cleared of all the other students. Jared smiled and ran behind my desk to grab his gift. As he lifted the paper star up, his shoulders rolled back and he stood a little taller. 

"Here Philip! I made this for you... I hope you like it...."

Philip's eyes grew big as he saw the beautiful paper star. He was truly surprised. It was written in the sparkle of his eyes. 

"Thanks, man. No one has ever done this for me." Philip reached over and gave Jared a big hug. Jared smiled.

"You're welcome!" And he pitter-pattered out of the room. 

Philip kept standing there looking at the giant star. He looked up at me and whispered, "I'm going to hang this in my room! This is awesome." I smiled at him as I held back the tears and thought to myself, now this is a perfect picture of the true meaning of Christmas.

Our own script of Thanksgiving

It was, coincidentally, the day after the election results when my students and I discussed why it is important to stop and reflect on all we are thankful for.

~ ~ ~

"It is so easy to focus on all of the bad in our lives that we forget to focus on all the good." 

"The more we look at what we have in our lives, the more kind we are." 

"Even when bad things are going on, we can see there is always good going on in our lives, too." 

"When we are thankful, our hearts are fuller." 

~ ~ ~

Those were just a few of the answers students blurted with very little leading or prompting. 

A little background to this discussion: on November 1 my students started logging one thing each day they are thankful for. They will do this each day until we leave for Thanksgiving break. This gives them about 15 days of logs of which they cannot repeat a post. I haven't exactly explained all the learning targets or objectives for this writing activity (yes teachers, I know this isn't the way we are told to teach), I've just let them write and I've been surprised at how deep my student's hearts of gratitude have dug. 

I'm thankful for

my blanket

my family

my home

my bed

my free education

teachers who care

my grandparents who take care of me while my mom is sick

my dad's job

my bike to get me places

my little sister because she is all I have

food in my refrigerator

books to read -the ability to read.

music to calm my mind and heart

shoes

clean water

and the list goes on

The comments from above came last Wednesday morning when I asked my students why they thought I would have them do such a writing activity. I stood proud and surprised as I listened to them rattle off all the insight I hoped they would glean from such an activity. It is not that I am surprised when my students give me smart and insightful answers; they teach and help me glean new insight often. Instead, I wished I could have recorded their mature answers for the world to hear. For America to hear... (the dot dot dot is so necessary as I could diverge here into a hundred different tangents, but will refrain.) 

In an effort to not spin this into a political post, I want to keep this post focused on the upcoming holiday when we each write our own script of thanksgiving. A day where we hopefully laugh, unite, cook, eat, and be merry. Where we reflect on all we are thankful for. Where we enjoy our loved ones. Cherish the home we have toiled for. Embrace the moments which will soon be memories. Hug and kiss the necks of those who walk day-in and day-out with us. Give thanks for the abundant blessings that have been bestowed upon us. Because there are so many. 

As my students said, even when it seems like there is so much to complain about, 

let us focus on all the good we have in our lives because there is truly so much. 

I'm more excited for this Thanksgiving holiday than ever before because I need it. I need to move my mind into a season of gratitude. I need to be thankful because there is so much to be thankful for. 

So I raise my figurative glass to you and toast:

May this be a Thanksgiving season like none other. 

When we embrace a thankful spirit,  

 lean into the good 

and let go of any other.



**
If you would like to spend more time reading and thinking about Thanksgiving, check this post out from a few years ago: Dear Gratitude

Peter Pan Syndrome

I was sitting in my first master's class. I fidgeted with my pencil, pulled out my paper and adjusted in the most uncomfortable, padded seat. I looked around the room making mental notes about the other students. Yes, I'm the type who makes quick assumptions about others and tries to size up the room for the soul purpose of seeing where I fall into the mix; leaving my huge insecurities bleeding all over the desk in front of me.

"You are here because you are interested in starting your own private practice business," said the professor.

Um.... no.... I'm here for the play therapy class, I thought.

Apparently the class title and what the professor was planning to teach were two very different things.

I started classes to pursue a masters in counseling; my first adult step forward in about 10 years. I'm not positively convinced this is the road for me, but I also know I can't just keep doing the same old. I know it's time for me to take a step forward and this is the only step I want to take right now. I think. Maybe.

Awesome, I'm taking a course I should probably be taking at the end of my school career, I thought as the professor continued to mumble something about private practice, of which I didn't understand. I looked around to see if anyone else was just as lost as me but, of course, it was just me. I settled into my seat, quickly realizing it was going to be a long weekend. Ugh.

Later in the evening the professor began talking about dreams. "Why do you want to open up your own business? Why do you want to counsel children, individuals and families? If nothing was stopping you, what would you want to do with your time and energy? Write down your thoughts. Don't let your pencil stop you. You are the only one who can stop yourself. The time is now to turn those has been dreams into reality."

As I looked down at my pencil and paper, a moment flooded over me. It was this moment of realization that I am an adult right now. (Duh!) I do have the potential to complete school and open up a business and do what I love to do. (Duh!) I am no longer a child in waiting or a teenager in training. I am here. I am an adult. It is time. I've dreamed of getting my master's degree and now here I am, sitting in this seat, doing what I thought I would do... someday.

Now, I do realize how basic all of this sounds, but have you ever stopped and really realized the time is not in the past or what's to come, but the time is now!? Cliche, I know, but true nonetheless. Is it just me or do you ever feel like you are just a big-little kid masquerading through life waiting for the real act to start? Like all we do is play house and work and somehow we keep waiting for the real life to settle in. Except it's here -this is the adult life we've been waiting for. It's right now.

Maybe I'm the only one stuck in a Peter Pan kind of syndrome.

Don't get me wrong. I know why I avoid all responsibilities of adulthood. It's easier to live for the adventure, not thinking about tomorrow. It's easier to spend the money today rather than save for tomorrow. It's easier eating the delicious dessert and promising to work it off tomorrow. I want to live in the comfortable life of today; it's easier this way. However, I'm learning that easy doesn't always mean it's the best for me.

Suffice it to say, thanks to the class I wasn't expecting to take, I'm starting to realize that I can't keep living so close to Never Never Land. Now is the time to start making dreams, real dreams that I've always had, come true.

What dreams do you have? You know, the kind that keep getting put off for when you are a real adult with real money and real potential?

Eyes on the Ball (or frisbee)

Dogs.

Who doesn't love them?!

My dogs are like my children. I treat them like my children, too. I talk to them and when I say that, I mean I have full on conversations with them and I know they know what I'm saying. Some days they are precious and adorable and all I want to do is snuggle with them. Then there are the other days where they cause havoc on the house and their energy level outlasts mine for the entire evening. They are my joy and pain all in two little fur balls. I'm sure this is how moms of real humans feel except the older the real human gets, the more back talk there is and I guess there is probably more mess too.

Since I'm now in my 30s and still do not have children, it can be difficult, at times, to relate to my friends with kiddos... but thankfully, my dogs keep me dialed into the momma language, at least a little bit. (Okay, Okay, moms, I know it's not the same at all, but just let me go with it.)

My dog, Scout is quite the persistent little one. She is a Border Collie/Australian Shepherd mix. She has only one love in the entire world. Fetch.

She loves fetch so much that I swear she would play it until she fell over from exhaustion. She will lay outside with her balls and frisbees within paws reach and stare at the house for hours just waiting until the time comes where I give in to her love and throw the ball. There is nothing she loves more. Her focus is persistent and it doesn't change. Her entire life has been centered around her love for the game of fetch from puppy years on. She is made to move, run and love the game. Even as I write this, she sits waiting anxiously for the time to come. She never forgets her true love.

The other day I was throwing the ball for the 4th time that day and I started to think about it... she is dedicated and loyal and persistent to her one love.... It made me wonder: Has there ever been one thing that I have been completely persistent at? One thing that I have given my all to and never taken my eyes off of? One thing that I will sit there for hours, waiting for the time to be right, to do it or play it or give myself to it?

In a world that is ever changing: trading the old for new, swapping what's not cool for cool, or simply self-evolving for the next fad, I admire the persistence and focus of Scout. Her eyes are on the ball, no matter what.

I'm loyal to my family and those I love. I'm devoted to my faith. But sadly, I don't think I've had the same persistence to one hobby, craft, work or career. I want to find that same dedication. Obviously, Scout's a dog and I am not and there are many more variables at play in my life compared to a dog's, but the idea is there pushing me to find my focus, love, and passion for that one thing that takes my all. Nothing but my eyes on the ball (or frisbee).  

Photo cred: Michael Shaw

Whispers

There is a whisper in the air

It is subtle but harsh

Overbearing and without mercy

I try not to listen but it's loud

too loud

It speaks with stinging words 

You are different

You are alone

No one likes you

You are fat

Your wrinkles swallow your face

You aren't as young as you used to be

You aren't a good friend

or sister

or daughter

You aren't good at this or that

What is your purpose?

You aren't smart

or pretty

or brave

or wise

You disguise with fake confidence

You are too hard

 too soft

 too honest

 too much

You will never be what you hoped to be

You failed

No one cares

Really, no one cares

because you are not enough

It repeats and repeats 

like a low, base drum in my ear

I cry 

But before I can make sense of all the stinging 

another whisper drifts in

This one has a peaceful, sweet aroma

but it's harder for me to hear

There is an echoing kind of call 

I long to hear it

A melody that calms my spirit

It speaks with grace and love

but in the beginning it feels foreign

a language I cannot understand

 Then it slowly unravels its sweet sound

Stop listening to the pounding of the drum

It eats you alive

It sucks your life

My precious,

You are everything you were made to be

I repeat

You are everything you were made to be

Stop fretting

Stop doubting

You were made to be soft

and hard 

and honest

and too much

You were made to be misunderstood

and to stand alone sometimes

You were made to struggle 

and to be unsure

But never believe that you are not enough

One day you will see

You were made You on purpose

so listen carefully to my song

Do you hear my sweet melody?

Drown out any other whispers 

Trust me. Lean into me. 

Listen to the hums of the  light. 

You, alone, are enough.

Repeat after me,

You, alone, are enough.

What I learned from the RNC and the DNC

You can laugh. It's a little funny, right?!

Maybe I'm a nerd, maybe I just like to junk out on news type stuff, or maybe I just don't have a life... no matter the reason, I watched both the Republican National Convention and the Democratic National Convention. In years past, I have swayed to the Republican party, although that hasn't been the case in this election year. In fact, earlier in the season I wrote this piece which urged the Republican candidates to rethink a few things, but that is all water under the bridge now. Currently, I would say I'm party less.

Here is the deal. I write this piece not to slam on either party. To be honest, I'm really tired of all the back and forth. There are issues on both sides worth debating, but that's not the goal of this piece (and really, I don't understand all the political issues well enough to debate them anyways).

My goal in watching both the RNC and the DNC was to learn (and to understand our culture better).

Here are a few things that stood out:

1. Dream! 
As I listened to speeches in both conventions, I found a common thread. It wasn't always about fear, making changes, or even the political agenda, it was about dreaming of tomorrow and the future. No matter who you are, you don't get to be a presidential candidate without dreaming of all the possibilities. Both Trump and Hillary have accomplished a lot in their lifetimes, and not everything was handed to them. They had to dream and dream BIG. They had to ask themselves, what's next? What do I dream next? I respect this about them and I've got to give them at least that credit.

I believe the older we get, the less we dream and the more we settle. Few keep striving for the dreams they had in their years of youth. I don't want the overwhelming parts of adulthood to drown my dreams. I want to keep dreaming. I want to dream of next year, and 5 years or 20 years down the line and I don't want the hardships of today to affect my dreams of 20 years from now. Do I dare say that I want to dream as big as Trump and Hillary? I may not dream of being the president of the United States (no thank you!), but I do want to dream big. May I ask, what is your dream? Have you given up on it?

2. Do! 
In order to get ahead in life: to make a difference, to see those dreams come true, to keep moving forward, you have to DO something. Trump and Hillary have done things. You may not like what they have done, but they haven't been sitting around waiting for things to change. They are doers.

Let's be honest, doing things can be hard and overwhelming. Just yesterday I knew I needed to do the simple task of cleaning out my closet. It was time, yet, I stood there in front of my closet and had no idea where to start. I called my sister and she said, "just start with your old clothes." Ha! Of course! Just DO something, Sheila! The same with the little and the big things. We all have things we know we need to do, but we just don't know where to start.... or we just don't want to do them. Stop putting it off. Just do it! (No this is not a subliminal NIKE advertisement) DOING keeps us moving forward. Doing helps dreams come true. DOING one step at a time is what helps make change happen. So what do you need to do? I know I need to finish cleaning out my closet. Then I need to find a bigger task to DO.... and simply DO IT!

3. Wake up Millennials! 
Here is where you may not like what I have to say, but I'm going to brave it anyway.

Millennials, we must wake up! Our parents have worked their butts off to give us this beautiful life that we live. We are truly blessed. We hardly know what it means to work hard for our dinner. To give our lives for the causes that matter most. To be called to war without a choice. To pay cash for things and not live beyond our means. To not have something we want. To save for the little starter home. We have been given everything we could ever need or want in our lifetime. Now it is time for us to stop feeling entitled, to put down our social media gadgets for just a little while, and to find our cause and passion. We see pictures of young people from different eras fighting for their cause, taking a stand, and sacrificing for the sake of good things. We see pictures of us, millennials #yummyshushi, #amazingadventure, #skinnystrong, #pokemon, #donuts, #lifesamazing, #yolo, #blessed... We hardly care for anything deeper than ourselves and our own comforts. I, unfortunately, can write this so easily because I am a millennial too. I am part of #lifesamazing. It's an easy life.

Millennials, we must wake up because we are the near future. We are where America goes. If we have no cause, if we have no fight, if we have no passion, where will that leave us? I believe America is at a very pivotal time in history and it is up to us where America goes. Let's not miss the greatest opportunities to make real change happen because we are too busy #livinglifetoitsfullest.

So thank you, RNC and DNC for helping me wake up, do things and dream again! No matter the outcome of this fall, I know that I have my own work to do to help make real change happen.

The One that Got Away

It was vintage. 

Like the real kind of vintage.
Old, not new trying to be old.

Cherry red. Shiny. A basket on the front and the back.

It was perfect.

I've been wishing for a cruiser, vintage bike for a while now. Summer is here which means that cruisin' around the neighborhood is exactly what I want to be doing. I know vintage things are pretty trendy right now, especially vintage cruiser bikes, but seriously, this one bike was perfect!

~ ~ ~

I stumbled upon it one morning when I was going for an early morning walk with my fatty dog, Bear. The goal was to speed walk around the neighborhood before meeting up with a friend for lunch. At first, all I saw was a silly, old garage sale. I don't really garage sale much so I was a little annoyed by the extra traffic and people.

Dodging between people, dragging Bear behind me, I kept my eyes set on my destination. Home bound! It wasn't until I was almost rounding the corner that I saw it. The vintage, cherry bike just standing tall and strong on the corner of the garage sale lawn.

Hault! Double take. Pause.

Eh... it's probably too expensive, I thought and proceeded home.

I got ready to meet my friend and on my way there, I drove by the garage sale again. I couldn't get this bike out of my mind so I pulled over, contributing to the annoying traffic, and walked right up to the cherry red, beauty.

75$ Are you kidding me?! 75 dollars for this PERFECT bike?
The DEAL of a lifetime!

I wandered through the rest of the sale so as not to come across as too obsessive. For some reason, I felt a little creepy just standing there in awe of this bike. As I looped back around to the bike, there was an old man and his daughter checking out my bike. I overheard the daughter say, "I think this would be a great bike for you to ride, dad." The old man grumbled as he stroked the handlebars. I felt a little stalkerish watching this exchange so I did another loop. I checked out the sign that said, "CASH ONLY" and I realized, I couldn't even buy the bike if I wanted to. Who carries cash anymore?

After looping the garage sale for the third time, I talked myself out of the bike. I decided I would leave it to chance. If the bike was there when I returned, it was meant to be. I would get cash, just in case, but really it was best if the old man got the bike. Surely it would keep him healthy or something.

Later in the day I drove by the house, breath tight in my lungs, and then a long exhale. No bike. It wasn't meant to be.... or was it?

I still dream about that beautiful bike for 75 dollars. I think about the deal of a lifetime I missed out on because I wasn't brave enough to claim what I wanted. All I had to do was commit and say, "Heck YES I want this bike. It's perfect for me!"

To be honest, I think this happens more often then I want to admit. I ask and pray for good things, but when it's right in front of me, I rationalize it away. God says, "here Sheila, here is your dream bike. It is right here for you, all you have to do is say yes!" Instead, I stand there quietly, afraid to be brave enough to simply say, YES! Why am I so scared to say YES to great things and so I settle for good things instead? Is it just me? Am I the only one who has a hard time claiming greatness for my life?

It's not like I am without because I missed out on the deal of a lifetime. I already have a good bike, but I am missing out on riding a beautiful vintage bike with a cute little basket that was perfect for me.

I think more often than not, God longs to give us exactly what we hope and long for....

we are just too scared to say YES to greatness and we don't see it until it's no longer there.

Bare Faced and 33

Dear 33,

You don’t look how I imagined you would, but then again, I don’t know that I actually imagined 33. When I was a kid, I imagined the teen years, the 20 somethings, and maybe even 30, but after 30 the picture got dark and fuzzy. Too far off and too hard to put into clarity.

The first picture of 33. Unedited. Bare face and all.

Now you are here and this is what you look like. Bare faced and 33. Can I just say that you look young! I’m a little surprised. I would of guessed 33 to look a lot older. Those eyes though, the window to all. I see the age starting to creep into them. A few wrinkles settling around those blue windows. Yes, you may look young, but no longer youthful. You wear a smile on your face; a genuine one too. Yet, you look like you have a few stories to tell: places you’ve been, people you’ve met, heartbreak, and perseverance. You have walked a few roads and are smarter for it, but I wonder if there are a few cuts and bruises that you wear close to your soul.  Perhaps you have learned from the cuts and bruises, but maybe you haven’t. Maybe you just think you have.

I write to you, 33, because I don’t really know you yet.  This is me reaching into the unknown and asking for you to be good to me. I’m sure we will get to know each other well over the year. We will have good times and bad. I expect you to teach me new things and I hope I will lean into you and let you teach me. Often I’m so stubborn that I dig my feet into the soft soil and refuse to learn the lessons of the ages. I hope I grow wiser than that this year.

Just between you & me, these are a few things I want to learn from you, 33:

• How to live well in this adult world. I often feel like just a little child disguised as something bigger.
• to pay bills on time. Yeah, I get distracted by more exciting things in the world.
• to change my bike tire. This would alleviate a little bit of worry every time I want to go for a bike ride. I’m a big girl. I should be able to do this.
• to be a good student again. Grad school is coming. It’s unavoidable.
• to eat a well balanced diet. I’m an adult but I love sugar. It gravitates to me. It’s sugar’s fault! It’s certainly not my own.
• to enjoy coffee more! Is this even possible?
• to be a more understanding teacher. I always need this lesson in my life.
• to write more. To write well and uninhibited. I’m not sure why I keep coming back to this, but it’s something I know I need in my life.
• to be a more in touch friend. The older I get, the more “in my own world” I get. I hate that! I need people!
• to LOVE the ones I love harder! Stronger! Better! I need love in my life. I want to be a better lover.
• to forgive myself and those I love over and over again. Really, what is life without forgiveness?
• to trust Jesus more. Trust is a hard thing for me.
• to experience more sunsets
• to sing more songs at the top of my lungs
• to dance more in the kitchen when I cook. Yes, this means I need to cook more.
• to laugh everyday
• to embrace the moments where I want to cry. Crying is good!
• to give more hugs and kisses.
• to look at the stars every night.
• to pray more.
• ……………..

The list could go on and on.

I’m sure some may look at this list and wonder what I’ve done with the first 30 years of my life. I should have learned a few a these lessons by now, but honestly, the older I get, the more I realize the less I know and the more I need to learn.

I guess you have a lot to teach me, 33. Cheers to you & me, I think we have quite the year ahead of us!

XOXO,

She

Breaking Down the Cycling World

Let’s just start out by saying, I’m not a cyclist. Some days I pretend to sort of know what I’m doing so I “gear up” and hit the Green Belt. On ambitious days, I hit the road! Don’t get me wrong, I love to ride my bike! It makes me feel free and in some ways it helps my ‘good girl’ tendencies to feel a little rebellious. Riding my bike is great. I just don’t ride my bike with the sole-purpose of trying to kill myself. {Insert silly emoji face to let you know that I’m jokingly sarcastic. Sort of.}

With all that said, I have, ironically, found a few of my summer weekends have been spent hanging out with cyclists. (Remember, I’m not one.) It is a love/hate relationship(s). Let’s be real. I’m the kind of girl that loves a leisurely walk in the forest or sitting in the sun enjoying a good book. Cyclists (mountain bikers to be exact) are amped up people. Ambitious; excited; ready to crush it kind of people. I think they all have a little crazy in them.

So let me tell you a little story. 

It all started out with a simple, “yes”. Michael, my boyfriend, is one of those types I just described. He murders the single track trails as often as possible, and I mean that in the most positive way possible. Every year he does this race called 9-5. It’s a local race for most people who live in the Boise area. I’ve been to it before and it’s one of the more fun races. The goal of the race is to slay this loop at Jug Mountain. They race as hard as they can for 8 hours straight. Coming from non-mountain bike girl, I find it insane to stay on your bike for 8 hours…. I mean, let’s be honest, when do you pee? When do you eat? When do you enjoy the forest beauty? And above all, how does your butt handle all the bump, pop, and lock? But aside from all those wonders, Michael needed “pit support” because he’s one of the crazies that goes for 8 hours straight. His proposal went a little something like,

“Will you be my pit girl?”

“Yes! I can be your pit girl! I would love to help!” I said.

“You know this is a big deal. I’m not going to be able to talk to you much and you are really going to have to be on your game to help me with what I need!”

“I need to be on my game to give you a water bottle….?!?!” I asked slightly confused. “I mean, I’m pretty sure I can handle it!”

“Oh and there are a couple other guys who could really use your help too…..”

“Hmm. Ok. Really, how hard can it be to give a couple dudes water bottles?!”

“Just realize that this is serious stuff!” He said with finality.

L.O.L

“Yea….. ok. Serious stuff.”

Can I just insert a few comments here about the weird ways of mountain bikers?! You would think it’s just water bottles that these athletes fret about…. But oh no! There are water bottles with just water, some have these weird energy tabs, others have this EVIL powder stuff. Yes, it is really called EVIL. And let’s not forget, the bottles go in a certain order. I mean, you can’t just give them in any order or their laps are done for! On top of the water bottles, there are the bike things and lubes for the chains, tubes for the tires, forks for the …. I don’t know. And don’t forget, this is all serious stuff! Followed by the nutrition. A peanut butter sandwich on the 3rd lap. Potato chips on the 4 and 9th lap. The glorious coke hand up at the end. The list goes on. Did I mention, it’s serious stuff? Cyclists are HIGH maintenance!  

So, about the race. Yep, I was pit girl. I got serious, detailed instructions of how to care for a couple of the guys on the team. They said they didn’t care if the bottles weren’t completely right, but that was a complete lie and I knew it. I didn’t understand how with such an easy task -water bottle hand ups- I was so nervous.

Then there was the race. Here is the fast version:

Lap 1: They flew through smoking fast, but I was ready for them. Phew! Hand ups completed. I got this!

Lap 2: Hand up 1. Check. Hand up 2. Michael yelled, “What’s in this bottle?!” I mean what kind of question is that? It’s a WATER bottle. My response, “Vodka!”

Lap 3: I quickly realized that a few more guys on the team were struggling and needed some pit girl intervention. I was on it.

Lap 4,5,6: Lap times started to slow down and my interest started to fade. How many more hours?! And seriously, why are their butts not aching?! Then I saw it: one of the racers running over to the porta potty with Butt Cream in his hand. Well, I guess some guys have issues.

Lap 7: Uh oh. Mechanical issue with Michael’s bike. “Can you help me get that (I don’t remember what he called it) off?” He hollered. Um, seriously…. I had no idea what he was talking about! “Can you get me the stuff? Why isn’t the stuff out?” Again…. I had no idea what he was talking about!

Lap 8: One of the other team guys rolled in looking whipped! This was Cory, the fearless leader of the team. I wasn’t quite sure how to help him, but he looked like he needed some serious love. I confidently said, “Can I get you anything?! Shake it off. Just shake it off.” I kid you not, this was his mumbled response, “Sing me some Taylor Swift!” L.O.L Did he just say that? And will he remember what he said later?

Lap 9: I was killing this pit girl job.

Lap 10: The glorious coke hand up. All men thought I was an angel.  

Lap 11: The only Eastside team member to complete this lap: Markzilla! Yes, that is what he calls himself. I think it’s because he thinks he’s beastly… I’m not sure though. I just go along with it.

Everyone else was sitting in camping chairs, mud on their faces, looking absolutely destroyed.

And DONE! YES!

Here is where my relationship with cycling turns from a love of helping others to a pure, genuine hate. You would think after the race is done that these athletes would be so tired of being on the bike for 8 hours that the last thing they would want to do is talk about the bike at all. Yep. Nope. In fact, the bike talk, ego talk, smack talk, whack talk increased at this point.

Here is an example of what I’m up against every time (with maybe a little sarcasm sprinkled in for humor’s sake).

“Yea, I uh really went to a dark spot lap 8…. I had to take a shot of pickle juice and amp it up. I mean, the pickle juice didn’t kick in right away… but once it did it…. don’t worry, I’m 50, my joints are wrecked, but I feel awesome!”

Say what?!?! I smiled and nodded. I mean, I tried to smile and nod.

Finally, thank the Lord, the evening came to an end and I was able to relax. The day, the events, were all completed, but most importantly, my skills as pit girl had become pretty pro and I had the team Eastside shirt to show it. The guys were all sweet to say thank you and they were quite genuine. Cory even gave me a team shirt :). I’m now officially part of the team. Go Eastside!

Like I said, my relationship with cycling and this people group is a love/hate. The hate comes and goes depending on the idiosyncrasies of the athletes and the length of the day, but the love is real too. The love comes from learning new things, cheering on people that inspire me, serving others who need help, and finding new friendships that make me laugh. The cycling world is a weird world that I never thought I would be apart of, but it’s a community of people that genuinely care about each other and push to make each other better. That’s a pretty cool world to me. With all sarcasm aside, I am happy to “pit girl” for these crazies any day.

**Side note: Make sure to tune in next time for some road cycling commentary. I can’t forget you, “roadies”. Is it Twilight Criterium time, yet?! ;)**