Everybody has a story

I have observed of late that everybody has a story.  I’m not talking about the novel they haven’t yet written, rather the thing that makes them special.  It is most evident on reality television. (I don’t watch a lot, just The Voice and Biggest Loser) I think, perhaps it is a tactic to create empathy for the contestant, thus swinging the popular vote.  Some of them are true examples of triumph over hardship.  Other stories are a stretch – “Your parents are so mean that they won’t pay for ALL of your private college tuition!  How ghastly!  You have to work a job? Incredible!”

When I complain that “Everyone has a story,” my son retorts, “Well, yeah.  Everyone does.” He is correct, but what bothers me is that we forget to value the regular guy that goes about his life doing his duty day-to-day without any sensationalism.  His story might read something like this:

Steady Eddy was born in a regular town to regular parents that made him go to school and taught him to work.  Eddy grew into a responsible adult, married his sweetheart and was faithful to her throughout his life.  They raised four regular children who in turn led regular lives.  Eddy held a steady job and made a modest yet dependable income.  He taught his children to fish and drive a standard transmission.  His wife and children were secure in his love for them and his devotion as he steadily provided for them.  He never won a race.  Eddy never wrote a best-seller, his name was never in the news or on MSN, nor did he ever blame his lack of fame or social status on anyone else.  Eddy didn’t care about fame.  He simply loved his family and went about his life caring for them.  As Bill Wilson might say, “To the world Eddy was just one person, but to those who depended on him he was the world.”

Let’s hear it for Steady Eddy!  He’s more valuable than you might know.  I’ll bet he knew this secret!

 

 

It's true.  Everybody does have a story.  Some of the best stories might be boring, but they are the ones that make the world go around. I think that's pretty special, don't you?

Happy Reading!

Goal setting, blogging, and experience

Day's End

It is 10:30 pm on a Monday night and I am doing my best to follow through with a goal I set last week.  I determined to post to this blog or The Other One every weekday for one week. I almost made it through, but Friday’s post got bumped to Saturday.  I guess that counts as I posted five times during the week.  Having made it through one week I chose to tackle a second.

Goal setting is not always about the end result, many times the progress towards the goal is as valuable as reaching it.  For instance, when I published my first book, Gold Pans and Iron Skillets, I went through an editing process that I thought would never end!  Eventually it did and I finally had a book in my hands.  The skills I learned through the process, however, still serve me well.  This is not to say that I am always typo free, but I do know some things to watch for during the early stages of a document that make proofing and editing go more smoothly.  I still write fragmented sentences and sometimes I choose to hang onto them because I like the way they read, but I don’t use them as much as I once did.

Training for a half marathon, or any race distance for that matter, is a great teacher and it improves physical fitness in ways that simply going for a regular run around the neighborhood or farm fields cannot.  It has also provided me much material for my next book.

Sometimes we fall short of our goal.  It is then that we should take a hard look at the process or journey toward that goal.  Even when the target isn’t quite attained the experience and knowledge gained while working toward it is often of great value. 

Week 2.  Day 1.  Check.

Happy Reading!

Frozen Digits - from my upcoming book

I made a commitment to post on this blog, or the other one, every day this week. This doesn’t include Sunday.  I take Sundays off.  Today I thought I might share something from the book I am currently writing. (Okay, I’m working on more than one, but this one takes priority.) Although the book is about lessons learned through running, it is not a book just for runners. The running stories are simply a tool to teach a lesson.   Read on and you will see what I mean …

Frozen Digits Lesson

I do my best to run all year long. When the weather turns cold, however, it is often tempting to remain indoors, aborting the morning run for a warmer, more sedentary activity such as sleep. I do love my sleep!  I have learned, however, that I am happier and healthier if I continue to go outside and move year-round.  This is true even when we are suffering a weather inversion that makes the atmosphere dark, cold, and gloomy for weeks on end.

Frost accumulation from inversion air. Check out the eyelashes!

During the winter I don more layers and step out into the brisk winter air.  As I brave the elements and go for a cold weather run, the first mile or two can be rather uncomfortable especially for my fingers and toes.  Experience has taught me that eventually, my frozen digits will respond to the increased blood pumping through my veins and they will warm. During these runs I often find myself removing my cheap knitted gloves because the discomfort of the cold air is no longer a factor. In fact, running has warmed me to the point that I remove the gloves to help cool down.  It is true that if I run in the cold long enough, I become comfortable. I have a cold threshold.  I draw the line when the temperature drops below 10◦! I have not found a lesson in running in weather that cold.  Some runners may.  I don’t intend to find out.

What did I learn from the Frozen Digits Lesson?

Some pain is meant to be endured.  What appears as uncomfortable in the beginning, often transitions into a comfort level once we have put up with it long enough. 

For instance, one can be tempted to avoid a growing experience because he is hesitant to endure the discomforts the experience is sure to present.  Consider the discomfort level of a job change, especially one that involves relocation.  This can be daunting to anyone, especially those with families.  When our children were in high school and middle school, we were presented with an opportunity to relocate for a new job.  We investigated the opportunity and determined that it wasn’t the right fit for us. While we were gathering information to make our decision, our children were in mourning.  Their anticipation of the move was fraught with anxiety.  The decision to move was never made, yet they were convinced their lives were soon to be ruined.  Surely, had we made the change, there would have been a period of adjustment, discomfort, and growth.

Think for a minute of someone who has overcome addictive behavior. Before they begin, the discomfort of change can seem too much to bear.  Just as sleep is more inviting than a run on a cold winter morning, familiarity is more comfortable than the sacrifice required for change.  Before he begins, the smoker might believe he cannot exist without his nicotine.  With each cigarette that is not lit, his body becomes stronger and healthier and he gains mental strength as his confidence increases.  Might he stumble?  Of course, but the longer he endures, the better his hope of success.

When my father passed away, I did not sleep for a week - not well, at least.  This may seem silly to those that struggle with sleep regularly, but I am a good sleeper! I was concerned and saddened by the event, as most would be.  I discovered, however, that as time went by the pain became weaker and the memories grew sweeter.  As I passed a haystack one day, I was reminded that my dad had been an expert hay stacker in his day.  I, on the other hand, had only recently learned that there were patterns to haystacks and my father had a talent for building them.  I smiled as I remembered this and a single tear escaped my eye.  Over the years, the smiles have become more frequent and they are seldom accompanied by tears. 

Does time truly heal all wounds?  I don’t believe every wound is healed by time, but most are healed or softened to some degree.  Others are more easily endured as we continue to bear them.  Ralph Waldo Emerson said, and many have quoted him, “That which we persist in doing becomes easier to do, not that the nature of the thing has changed but that our power to do has increased.” 

Cold weather running has taught me to be patient during times of difficulty.  Either the trial will pass or I will gain strength to overcome it. Unfortunately, unlike running, it is difficult to measure how long patience must be exercised during life’s difficulties.  When I run in the cold, I can expect that by the time I have completed the first mile, my digits will no longer feel frozen. Life experiences are not quite so predictable, but if you keep running or enduring, sometime the pain may become bearable.

Do you have something in your life that might require a little more patience - a little more enduring before the blessings are realized? Can you resolve to “just keep running?”

Happy Reading!

Springtime at the Greens'

Spring!  I forgot what a whirlwind it can be.  The days grow longer, but it still seems there are not enough hours.  I think that is because we tend to fill up all the daylight! Here is a short rundown of what is happening around my place.

My two college boys moved home for the summer.  That means more.  More food.  More dishes. More noise!

I made a quick trip to Cove and LaGrande, Oregon to visit my sister and do a couple of book signings.  It was fun to meet new people, renew some old acquaintances, and share some readings from my books.  I love to hear people laugh at those things I have penned that I intended to by funny.

I’m training for another half marathon.  A friend who just began running again after many years of not running asked if I would do one with her and promised to train.  We are training together.  She is faster than I and it is challenging me!

I conned some friends into running the Grand Teton Relay in August.  Wowser!  I hope we survive.

I am heading to Pennsylvania in a few days to visit my daughter and her family.  (It’s really about visiting the little girls.)

We are re-landscaping – just because. It is slow going.

The garden is producing lettuce and spinach. That will help with the “more food” challenges listed above.

I am terrorizing a pair of robins as I photograph the happenings in the nest they built outside my bedroom window.  Three little birds and one blue egg remain today.  Poor little robin.  I will have to take another photo tomorrow to see if the last egg hatched.

I’m trying to write.  It is slow going, but I have a plan and I hope to get another book in print by the end of the summer.  We will see.  I can promise it is coming, but then – so is Christmas.

Homemade laundry soap and guilt

I love the scent of line dried clothing!

I just made my own laundry soap.  I didn’t do it out of a desire to connect with my pioneer roots or because I found a pretty picture on Pinterest that made me believe my house would be perfectly clean and organized if I made my own soap.  I didn’t do it because my mother made laundry soap with lye when I was a child and I was feeling reminiscent.  I did it out of guilt.

The leaders of my Faith have long taught that we should be prepared and frugal.  In event of an emergency we will not only be able to take care of ourselves, but lend aid to those around us. We call this preparation Provident Living. Some aspects of Provident Living are easier for me to comply with than others.  It’s easy for me to grow a garden because my husband does that.  He has a Green thumb. I enjoy reaping what he sows and find great satisfaction in filling mason jars with the bounty.  Physical health is also in my skill set.  I try to exercise regularly, eat a healthy (somewhat) diet and I know a few home remedies that come in handy on weekends and holidays. That’s when everybody always gets sick. Spiritual health is another goal I am continually pursuing.

I am not so good at storing sundries.  I told a friend once that I always think things should last longer than the do – for instance, a bottle of lotion.  She made a profound observation.

“I think that is just mortality.  Things are always wearing out.”  Good point.

Anyway, back to the guilt.  In our pursuit of Provident Living, we often have workshops aimed at Emergency Preparedness and Frugality.  I have participated in the Laundry Soap Lesson on more than one occasion and I have been skeptical.  I would rather clip a coupon than purchase all the ingredients to combine to make a mess while assembling the powdered cleaner.  I ignored the lesson and the counsel to store laundry soap. Recently, however, I was given a sample of the product and informed that it costs about $.03 per load.  Three cents!  My clothes seemed to come out just as clean as they did with my high efficiency, Oxi-added, liquid soap.  Maybe it was time to bite the bullet and be obedient.

The first step is a bit aromatic and my husband complained.

“What stinks?”

“It’s part of the laundry soap I’m making.  I’m trying to be obedient,” I replied.

“It’s making me sneeze.”

I promised it wouldn’t last forever and that it was a way to save lots of money.  That seemed to suffice.

I now have approximately six months’ supply of laundry soap in a bucket. It cost me about $15. I need to make another batch to be truly prepared.  Oh … and obtain a large bucket and a hand held dasher to really get the job done!  I’ve got a small washboard I use as a decoration.  I think that will have to suffice for now.  I would hate to get carried away!

What are you doing to be frugal, be prepared, or be obedient?

A dozen years

Time to clean off my desk! 

I am retiring.  No, not from my lab job (I don’t work very hard anyway) nor from my writing pursuits, rather from my responsibilities as School Board Trustee.  Twelve years just seems like the right time to transition. It wasn’t a goal that I set in the beginning of my service.  I didn’t say, “Sure, I think I will do that for a dozen years.” It just happened.  I have been pondering that number twelve.  What kinds of things do we do by the dozen?

We buy eggs by the dozen.

Years are divided by a dozen months and days by two dozen hours.

We attend public school for a dozen years, give or take a couple.

A dozen long stemmed roses is a significant gesture – and pricey!

Donuts.

Christ had twelve apostles.

Gandalf had twelve dwarves and a hobbit that represented innocence. (Think about it.)

 

During my years of service I participated in the following twelves to name a few:

 

Approved twelve School-year calendars.

Rehired teaching, coaching, food service, custodians, bus drivers, para-professionals, Superintendent and various district staff twelve times.

 

Approved twelve school district budgets.

Received twelve IHSAA passes.

Participated in Parma High School graduation ceremonies and presented diplomas twelve times.

Cleaned up Homecoming TP from my yard twelve times.

Attended twelve Regular school board meetings each year.  (Okay, I missed a couple, but I made up for those with Special school board meetings.)

 

And yet, twelve years has no true significance in my decision to step down.  It is just time.  I recall asking a fellow former trustee when he knew it was time to leave.  He said, “You just know.  The district was in good hands and I felt it was my time to go.”  I echo his sentiment.  It is just time.

 

I bid my school board responsibilities, “Adieu.”  I may still give my opinion and I can tell you who to contact with a concern, but as I reassured a favorite coach when he kindly said, “What are we going to do without you?” It’s all right.  I can just be more partial now!

 

It’s been fun – time to be done!

Offer up an Orchid

 

 

Offer up an Orchid

Often on occasion of adoring observation

Ordinary beaus offer up only old confections.

Bonbons ought to open both orb and oral organs

For ogling or consuming is their only operation.

 

Oblige me oft, Dear Suitor, ope’ my soul with origination

Offer up no ordinary or conventional donation.

Endow me not the obvious, but obtain one oddity.

For an orchid is the symbol of my lover’s loyalty.

I have begun!

Okay, it's only 640 words of a rough draft of one chapter of one book, but it's a start!  I have been telling myself and others that I was going to write another book.  I suppose it's time to follow through.  Unlike the first one, Gold Pans and Iron Skillets, or the second one (a novel - yet to be published), this book is a bit more purpose driven.  I can tell you that the subject matter is pain and that I prefer to teach a lesson with a story.  I can also tell you that I intend to hold true to my motto, "Learn to laugh and laugh while you learn."  That being said, I also admit that there have been times when I have laughed because had I not, I would have cried.  Stay tuned for progress reports.  Unless you are one of my preferred proof readers, you shall have to wait on the body of the work until that magical day when I can say, "Whew! I have finally published that book I talked about for so long!"  In the meantime, please do not forget to laugh!

Angel Walk - Part Two

Part Two as promised ...

And we're off!

Wait. Let's back up just a bit. May 14 was a big race day in the Treasure Valley. Hundreds participated in the Famous Idaho Potato Marathon event running 5K, 10K, half marathon and marathon races. Others, myself included, ran in Homedale. We had no race clock nor bib numbers. Nobody strapped a chip timer to his or her ankle. There were no prizes or free stuff at the end of the race except for a paper cup full of water. Or was there a prize?

Homedale Band

The event, Angel Walk, was held in honor and support of Angel Rios-Salas, a second grader at Homedale Elementary suffering from Stage II Hodgkin's Lymphoma. Friends of the family organized the event. When I arrived about 45 minutes prior to the race to register and receive my “Angel Walk” t-shirt, I heard music and observed a small band. Children were cavorting and soon engaged in tug-of-war games with bragging rights going mostly to the young ladies! I am sure the boys were letting them win. Angel's second grade teacher emceed the event and his classmates sang The Star Spangled Banner. I cried when Angel and his parents were ushered on stage and smiled when Angel refused, with a grin and a shake of his head, to say anything to the crowd.

Then we ran, because we could. Others walked, because they could. Many of his friends rode their bikes three miles to support Angel, because they could. It was a beautiful day for a race and a wonderful way to celebrate life and to support a young man who is fighting for his.

Snake River in Homedale

When asked, “Why Idaho?” I often think of the mountain peaks, the lakes and rivers, and even the high desserts that form this land, but if I stop to truly reflect on Idaho, my answer ought to be, “Because angels walk here.”

Desktop

Dirty dusty documents deepening daily on my desk.

Do I dust, ditch, or determine direct destinations

Diminishing droves of data and debris?

Daydreams delay decision and divert the dread of debt.

Dynamite? Decomposition? Does dropping in the dumpster

Do dire damage or dispense delight?

I'd Rather be Writing?

Why is it sometimes so hard to write?  When I don't have the time, all I can think about is writing.  When I have the time, here is what I do ...

Turn on the computer and check my email.
Start a load of laundry.
View my checking account balance.
Look on facebook to see if I have any new friends.
Grab a snack.
Check my blog stats.
Check my other email account.
Look to see if I have written anything in the past worthy of posting today.
Google literary agents.
Read the blogs I follow.
Wonder how to get more followers on my blog.
Look for a cute photo to post with a blog I have not yet written.
Bake something.

And the list goes on ...

Good Works

Okay, I know everyone is talking about it, and I know I don't have a clue how many people have pitched in, and I know some have done so much more than others ... but when the delivery truck loaded with roofing supplies showed up this afternoon, I cried again!

You've seen it happen on TV in a matter of days ... with professionals and a Television network driving the project, but have you seen a small community rebuild a house for someone in need in just over a week?  That is what is happening in Parma this week, and it is inspiring.

Contractors who could be working on paying jobs are donating their time and resources.  Housewives are providing nourishment AND tearing up old tile!  Teenagers are tearing down, cleaning up, smoothing out, hauling off, and doing it all with a smile!  The best part is, most of these people have never met the recipient of all this good will! They just know he is a member of the community who is in need.

I once read a quote that said, "There isn't much to see in a small town, but what you hear makes up for it."  I'm here to tell you, there is much to see and hear in this small town!

I Remember Now ...

I have this little job that I do and sometimes I wonder why.  I am referring to my responsibility as school board trustee.  There are times when it seems tedious (policy revisions) and times when it seems hopeless (student expulsions) ... and then there is May!

Here is what happens in May:

• State Championships

 To borrow a quote from The Wide World of Sports, "The thrill of victory.  The agony of defeat."

• Music Concerts

Whether choir or band, one has to appreciate the number of students involved in music programs in our little district.  

• Academic Awards

That is what we are all about - academic achievement.

• Scholarships

Got a B average?  You can go to college, thanks to the philanthropists in our little town.

• Graduation

This is "Pay Day" for school board trustees.  It is why we put up with the tedium, the frustrations, and the disciplinary hearings.  It is why, when someone asks, "Are you still on the school board?" I answer, "Yes.  Yes, I am!"  Occasionally, a trustee gets a "Bonus" on "Pay Day."  Occasionally, a trustee has the opportunity to present a diploma to his or her own offspring!

I am grateful for May!

A Change of Course

Sometimes the best path to follow is a change of course.  Road construction is an obvious reason to divert ones path, however, there are a number of other circumstances which might give cause for correction ...

• The path became dangerous.  
• Obstacles.
• The initial goal was good, but a better one presented itself.
• The path was not good to begin with. 

So it was that my running buddy and I changed our plans to run a 10K race on May 14.  We had a training schedule and were doing our best to follow it, but the path became dangerous when the spring weather refused to cooperate.  The day we ran four miles in heavy wind was the beginning of the course change.  How would we ever train for six miles in this weather?

Obstacles?  She fought an ankle injury.  I caught a cold.  We kept training, however, less enthusiastically than we would have liked.

Our original plan to pay the $40 registration fee and run a six mile race with hundreds of other runners was a good one, but we found a better one.  This race might not have a famous name, but the logistics are better.  The registration fee is only $15, the race will be small, it is closer to home, and best of all it will benefit a young man fighting a serious illness.

So we've corrected our course.  We are well prepared as the original path conditioned us for the one we will actually follow.  Sometimes those little detours are the very things we need to prepare us for the journey ahead.

Excuses?

I'm feeling a bit dumpy - creatively speaking. It could be because I haven't recorded my thoughts in awhile. I usually blame not recording my thoughts on a creative slump. Which comes first?

These are my excuses ...
It's track season.
It's tax season.
Cutting down on carbs means I have to spend more time in the kitchen - and the grocery store.
I am training for a race and that means more time in my running clothes.
Someone needs to work the crossword puzzle.
Laundry.
I have to register for college (for my son who is currently out of the country) and I haven't jumped through those hoops in over two decades!
Discouragement. I got another rejection for my novel today.
Distractions. What are my friends doing on facebook? What are they blogging about? What can I find to eat?
... and so forth.

I Heart Track!

That's right. I LOVE track season. Either you get it or you don't. For those who don't, I'll try to explain why.
* I get to hang out with friends that I haven't seen in awhile. They are fellow parents of tracksters who are busy cheering their offspring on in various other sports throughout the year.
* Although ski season is coming to an end, I get to don my ski gear just a bit longer as I weather the weather!
* Gatorade, granola bars, and string cheese.
* There is something for everyone. Fast, strong, or just persistent, track offers an event for everyone's strong suit.
* PR's (Personal Records) Every athlete can have a great day even if he does nothing more than improve upon his best performance.
* Excitement. Winners are determined in seconds, minutes, and by fractions of inches.
* Camaraderie. Track athletes cheer for the success of their fellow teammates, even when that success might cost them a spot on a relay team.
* The Unexpected. On any given day, the favored to win might false start, fall on a hurdle, miss his mark, or drop a baton, leaving the door wide open for an upset and ensuing elation for the surprise victor.
* Inspiration. I seldom cry at other sporting events. However, tears are routine at track meets and I don't even have to know the participants. When the 110 Meter Hurdler catches a toe and leaves skin on the track, I cry. When the last runner crosses the finish line of the 3200 Meter Run having been lapped twice by faster athletes, I cry. When my own child turns in a stellar performance, I cry. When that same child competes in his or her last high school track event, you can bet I cry! And when it snows, sometimes I want to cry!
I heart track!

Ski Season

The snow has fallen! I don't remember the last time my favorite ski resort was open in November! Here we are clear into the third day of December and the Greens have not yet hit the slopes. The boys are getting restless! The master of the house is beginning to twitch!

It creates a bit of a problem, this early season opening. I had not planned to commit my Saturdays to the ski hill until much closer to Christmas. After all, I am still a football junkie! The transition goes something like this ...

1 - Clothing. Rather than don a favorite team shirt and lounge pants, participants now must layer on warm and wicking base layers and waterproof outer layers. Gone are the fuzzy socks and slippers. It's time to cram ones foot into unyielding ski boots. Helmets, gloves, and goggles are also part of the required attire.

2 - Alarm Clock. Yes, I have to set it on Saturday.

3 - Food. No more various snacks and main courses dubbed "tailgate food," it is necessary that the meal now fit into the small crock pot (this I love!) that plugs into the dashboard lighter. Chips and sodas are allowed as the physical activity provides a bit of justification. In addition to regular breakfast, a cream filled Bismark is often consumed on the drive up the hill! Ironically, this meal is often consumed on an actual tailgate as opposed to the tailgate food that is consumed in front of a TV!

4 - Equipment. The remote control has been traded for skis, boots, poles, goggles, helmets, jackets, gloves, and ski passes.

5 - Recovery. Much the same with the addition of ibuprofen consumption.

And so it begins ...

Ouch!

We knew it would happen someday. We just didn't believe it could happen this year! We have become so accustomed to winning, that we almost forgot how it feels to lose.

Is that what Oklahoma felt in 2007? Oregon in 2008 and 2009? TCU? Virginia Tech? Idaho? Every other team that the Broncos rolled over or squeaked past in the last few years?

One ESPN analyst recently said, "All the great teams have a hiccup." Too bad. Sometimes it hurts to hiccup. Let's quit licking our wounds and get back on the band wagon! How many other teams can claim the records, the exciting play, the blue turf, the class act that is the Broncos?

They will win again. I expect it will be the very next game. They will end the season with one loss teetering on, if not in, the top ten. How many teams does that put behind them? Oh yeah, over a hundred! They will go bowling and people all over the country will watch because whether the Broncos play in blue on blue or orange on blue, in orange pants or all white uniforms, they always entertain! And that, my friends, is why we love them.

Go BRONCOS!

How to be a Football Fan

As summer winds down and fall gears up, it is time for a short primer on FAN-aticism!

There are any number of programs, coaches, camps, and playbooks existing for the sole purpose of teaching athletes to become football players. There are not, however, so many aides for football fans. The requirements to develop one’s football fan-ness, I have observed, are myriad and often complicated. One might argue that a football fan exercises more discipline and talent than does the average football player. Let us examine.

In order to become a fan, one must have something to adore. Thus, a football fan must first adopt a team for which he will pledge undying devotion. Pick any team – Little League, High School, NCAA, or NFL. It matters not what team, rather the level of devotion is key.

Learn the game – or not! Remember the level of devotion is key, not one’s ability to understand the game. This will become clear as further instructions are revealed.

Adopt team colors as your favorite wardrobe guide. Purple and green, brown and gold, or blue and orange are lovely combinations. Neither fit nor style matters much. It’s all about the color scheme.

Take the color scheme to a new level and purchase team colored Mardi Gras beads and earrings. These are worn by male fans as well as female fans. One might consider painting a paw print or mascot head on the right side of his face. Diving full into the spirit of fan-ship, he may also ad his favorite player’s jersey number on the left side of his face. Better yet, paint the whole face! Half purple and half green works well, or one might opt for the simpler yet just as effective entire face blue effect.

Spend a bunch of money! Team jerseys and caps, stadium blankets with team logos embroidered on them, license plate holders indicating for whom the driver has pledged his loyalty, coffee mugs, oversized foam fingers displaying the team’s superiority, and logo emblazoned golf shirts are excellent avenues for which to dispose of one’s personal funds. Buy concessions! Spend all of one’s weekly food allowance on concessions! Three dollar bottled water, five dollar hot dogs, and four dollar boxes of candy present a rapid drain on one’s cash flow, not to mention the five dollar hamburger with petrified bun!

Track the team stats. One needn’t understand the game to have access to data containing team and individual numbers that, when rattled off with the appropriate inflection, indicate one’s devotion and intelligence. Bigger numbers translate to more success. Right? Unless, of course, one truly does understand the game and those numbers are in the Interceptions, Penalties, or Turnovers columns. One might also begin referring to players by their first names, as if he knows them personally.

Throw a tailgate party – even if you have no tailgate! A folding table in the family room will do if one does not have access to a stadium parking spot and season tickets. Although the location of the tailgate party is not pertinent, the consumption of high fat/low nutritional value foods is imperative! Bratwurst, chili dogs, bar-b-cue ribs, nachos, fried potatoes, and cheese dip are recommended. These foods are best enhanced if the chef is sporting a team jersey that is small enough to allow his lower abdomen to be viewed peeking between the jersey and his belt.

Rearrange schedules to accommodate ballgames. A novice can accomplish this by simply rearranging conflicting dinner dates and social engagements. However, the seasoned fan will postpone or skip important business meetings and medical appointments. Social engagements do not enter into the equation as he has no social life unrelated to football.

Attend the ballgame in the stadium wearing headphones tuned to one’s favorite radio announcer. This allows for audio/visual overload. Neither a play nor a commentary shall be missed!

Yell at the referees. Call them by name – or by some other name such as Stripes, Zebra, or You *&^(#@(! Complain when they make a bad call. Offer to do the job for them. Offer them your glasses. Complain when they make any call against your team. Shake fist and stomp feet in their general direction.

Mourn and celebrate. Levels of joy and sorrow are myriad depending on the successes or failures of the favorite team. Take for example the devoted Vandal fan. (The university will remain nameless to protect the devoted fan. Clue: There aren’t many universities in Idaho.) He’s still clinging to a win streak from long ago, overshadowed by his current losing streak. A first down, any first down, is a reason for celebration! His rival, whom he holds the win streak over, has moved on to greater foes, however, the fan still finds rejoicing in the beauty of his school colors. Much prettier than that ugly blue and orange! On the other hand, a fan whose team is rolling successfully along may become discouraged if they are leading the opponent by only twenty-one points. It’s all in one’s perspective.

Finally, a true fan will push his oxygen tank supporting walker into the stadium, through the crowds, to the concession stand, and down the bleachers, all the while wearing any or all of the apparel cited previously complete with matching hair coloring – preferably, half and half.

Ugh! What was I thinking?

Well, I did it again. Is there something wrong in my brain that makes me do difficult things just for the fun of it?

My very young daughter (she’s young to me) wanted company as she competed in her first mini triathlon. What could I say? After all, she’s my daughter. I could have said any number of things such as, “Are you nuts?” or “I’m a grandma!” or “It’s at five thousand feet!” Hey, I think I said all of those.

I drug my feet. No training for the 300 meter swim. Swimming is my strong suit. I hadn’t been on a bike in months. It’s too wet outside. Two miles wouldn’t be too difficult, I reasoned. One mile run. One mile is just a warm up, right? Sure, but not after the swim and bike ride, and especially not at five thousand feet!

I touched the pool wall at the same moment as my very young daughter. We were both feeling confident as two swimmers were still splashing away in the pool. Here’s the tricky part – we pulled on tight running pants and shirts over wet swim suits. Slipped into our shoes, sped out of the pool door, around the building, and across the street to another facility containing bikes and an indoor track. Did I mention it was January?

Did I mention we were in Utah?

Five thousand feet?

I’m certain I mentioned that!

Sliding my wet bottom onto the slick bike seat, I began to pedal as fast as my burning lungs would allow. I also began to slip behind. I also began to slide off the bike seat! My very young daughter hit the track about a minute and a half ahead of me.

Then the five thousand feet came into play.

I hit the track and in about a minute and a half I also hit a wall!

I reside and train at a comfortable two thousand feet, my lungs happily filled with dense air. The air at five thousand feet is not so dense! I managed to finish my race, lungs bursting in an attempt to absorb enough oxygen to keep me conscious.

I finished five minutes behind my very young daughter. After all, running is her strong suit.

I ingested about a gallon of water and passed on the bagel and cream cheese. I surveyed my competition.

College students - all of them.

I could be their mother! Oh, except for the old guy. He won the whole thing!

Yay for old guys!