Hitting the Wall

Last Friday morning, 3 other women and I took several young women in our church youth group on a 2+-mile bike ride (each way) through an abandoned train tunnel in the Cascade Mountains. The only light visible in the tunnel was the pinprick of light marking each entrance/exit, so all bike-riders were equipped with either a bike light, flashlight strapped to the bike or a headlamp. I had both a bike light and a light attached to my helmet, and I was ready to ride. Or so I thought.


I don't own a bike, so I borrowed my daughter Rachelle's. Mind you, I'd never ridden her bike before that morning and it had been several years since my last bike ride, but I felt confident that I would encounter no problems. I believed in the adage: once a bike rider, always a bike rider. Lance inspected the bike before I left and told me that the brakes weren't in top condition, but I wasn't worried since Rachelle and Sara both frequently ride that particular bike. I took a quick spin in front of our house and, sure enough, I could still ride a bike. I was a bit wobbly, but not enough to concern me.

Fast forward to the train tunnel. Donned with a jacket, gloves, bike helmet and lights, I entered the tunnel at the rear of our group. I started pedaling and immediately noticed that I felt a little funny. Dizzy's the word. Not to worry. In a few seconds I'll get my bearings, I thought. The trail's flat--no incline or decline--just straight riding through to the end of the tunnel. I didn't notice--yet--that the sides of the trail were gently sloped down to the tunnel walls.

My bike wobbled as I rode. Were the handle bars loose? Must be. Although I couldn't see the tunnel roof because I was focusing on the ground, I was sure that the height of the tunnel was decreasing. Two thoughts entered my mind: I'm claustrophobic and I have no depth perception (proven facts). Just focus on the beam of light your bike light is shining on the trail and all will be well, I tell myself. At this point, I veered left and experienced my first contact with the wall. Don't panic. Just get back on the bike. How hard can this be? I climb back on, a little more wobbly than before, pedal a few yards, and then come into contact with the left wall again. Good grief! At least I'm not leading the pack or we'd have a pile-up.

I reassure myself by thinking that I can do this. I really can do this. This is the little engine that could train tunnel. I'm on a flat trail, for heaven's sake! I haven't yet seen any skeletons or abandoned bikes in this tunnel, but then again, it's nearly pitch black and I can't really see anything except the patch of trail just in front of my bike.

I continued to ride constantly feeding myself positive messages. Well, it worked. I didn't contact the left wall again. This time it was the right wall I encountered--with my face. I hit the wall with my face, hand and bike. The bike fell hitting my legs. Before I could totally right myself, two of my fellow leaders were right by my side assessing my condition. They were horrified to see what looked like blood all over my face. The "blood" was actually soot. The soot covered much of my face, gloved hands, jacket and shirt. I was slightly scraped up, but reassured everyone that I was "fine." Embarrassed, but fine. Long story short, I made it through the rest of the tunnel without further wall encounters and even made it back (walking the last 1/3 of the way because my bottom hurt like the dickens--not used to narrow, hard bike seat).

I could write about how I accompanied our group to Krispy Kreme--still covered with soot--and how the soot had worked its way to my chest and stomach, and how I had to cover my face with dishwashing liquid to get the soot to come off, and how I still have small patches of soot imbedded into my right palm, chin and left knuckles, but I won't.

I think I'll wait a few weeks before I attempt my next bike ride. I won't be riding in the train tunnel.

Poem for Mom

Two days before her birthday, my mom had a little accident. She underwent surgery this morning to set the bone. Here is a little poem I wrote in her honor:

There is a small matter I'll mention:
My dear mother craved some attention,
So she tripped on the bed,
Broke her wrist, not her head.
This will surely increase her tension!

Church Mouse

Last evening I opened our closet at the church to retrieve some Hershey Hugs for our young women. I noticed a few napkin scraps strewn about and continued to rummage through the closet when I was startled by a little grey mouse scurrying about on the middle shelf. Of course I jumped back to avoid the attack I was sure would soon ensue. I recruited some volunteers to find the creature, and we gingerly set about removing some of the debris the rodent left for us. The little devil avoided the licorice and Hugs, but shredded napkins and tissues, made a nest in the tissue box, and left droppings all over the shelf. Two gentlemen volunteered to catch the mouse, but as they tried to get him into the plastic bin, the mouse jumped to the floor and scurried inside the adjoining closet. We cleaned and sanitized the shelf, vacuumed the floor, removed the trash, scrubbed our hands and walked away hoping the mouse wouldn't return. It wasn't until after I returned home that I realized we forgot to post a "beware of rodent" sign on the adjoining closet. I suppose we won't be the only ones to be surprised by the contents of our closet.

Revised Definitions

After spending over 2 weeks vacationing in Utah and Idaho, I've revised some common word definitions. See below:

1. OVEN: What it feels like on a typical summer day in Utah. The temperature hovered between 95 and 100 degrees.
2. HIGH-FLYING: Zachary and Mark, strapped in harnesses and raised 150 feet in the air, pulled a "rip cord" and soared to new heights on the Skycoaster ride at Lagoon amusement park.
3. SERENDIPITY: Realizing that I possibly can't see all of my Utah friends and relatives, I happened upon an old roommate and friend while shopping with my mom.
4. AMUSEMENT: Watching little kids participate in the "mutton busting" event at The Famous Preston Night Rodeo.
5. HARMONY: The Mormon Tabernacle Choir in concert. Sitting right next to the men's section of the choir and listening to their harmonious, melodic voices.
6. FLASHBACK: Watching the Osmonds perform at the Conference Center took me back to my first concert (The Osmonds, of course) as a teenager.
7. FRUSTRATION/HILARLITY: Playing miniature golf with Mark.
8. ZOMBIE: Mark, when he's watching Cartoon Network at his grandparents' house. (We block Cartoon Network at our house, but it isn't blocked at the grandparents' house.)
9. PEACEFUL: Relaxing at our idyllic family lodge nestled between two hills in Mink Creek, Idaho.
10. PACKED HOUSE: The Mink Creek Ward Chapel where Zachary had to sit on the floor during Sacrament Meeting because all of the seats were taken.
11. UPLIFTING: Zachary's experience attending Especially for Youth at BYU.
12. BOLD: Zachary, as he asked for and obtained the phone numbers of many girls at EFY.
13. CATCHING UP: What I did with many friends and relatives while in Utah.
14. JOY: Being around family members and friends we haven't seen for several months or longer.
15. SATISFACTION: Seeing the bedspread I made after it was quilted in Utah. It's lovely even if I say so myself!
16. ELATION: Seeing my sister so happy because she is engaged to a wonderful man!
17. PROUD: Visiting Annica and Josh's first home they purchased and witnessing the results of all their hard work in giving the home a makeover.
18. TUG-O'-WAR: Jockeying back and forth with Mark trying to get him to spend time in his math workbook. The parents "won."
19. COMIC RELIEF: Listening to 2 John Bytheway CDs several times (at the boys' request) while motoring about.
20. DIVERSIONS: Playing Nintendo 64 and watching DVDs in the van.

Feminine Needs

Sara left for Stake Girls Camp yesterday. Today as I picked up some of the items she left strewn about, I noticed her packing list. Next to "feminine needs" on the list she wrote: "What is that? I think it means chocolate." Sara is my kind of girl!

Too Much Information

Somewhere in Alaska lives a gentleman who has no idea who I am and that I know way too much information about him. I met his friend at the grocery store this evening; we were in adjacent check-out lines and both finished making our purchases at about the same time. The friend mistook my cart for his and started to wheel it away. I stopped him by saying, "Oh, I don't think you want my husband's colonoscopy prep." (The "prep" was in a plastic bag at the front of the cart.) He took his hands off my cart, hesitated for a moment and then said, "I have a friend in Alaska who had one of those and he feels so much better now, and he doesn't mind the bag at all." At this point, I realized that the man thought I meant a colostomy (colon removal) instead of a colonoscopy (colon examination). He proceeded, "After he got the bag, he went to a doctor to have a prostate exam, but when the doctor saw that my friend had a "bag," the surprised doctor asked, 'What is that?' My friend told him about his procedure, and the doctor said, 'We're done here,' and left the room without doing the prostate exam."

I wonder if someone some place in the world knows too much information about me.

Wheel of Misfortune

The Wheelmobile is in town. Open auditions were held Saturday in Sequim and yesterday and today at Emerald Queen Casino in Tacoma. How do I know this? My friend Beth's lifelong dream is to be a contestant on "Wheel of Fortune." She took her husband and family friend with her to Sequim to audition Saturday. (She needed help watching her 10-month-old son, Ethan.) Sadly for Beth, the husband and friend were called up to audition, but Beth struck out. That afternoon Beth called and asked if I would accompany her and baby Ethan to Tacoma for a second audition attempt. The plan was to be at all 3 audition times and keep the baby with us in the auditorium.

Yesterday we set off for Tacoma and Ethan slept most of the way there. We strapped Ethan in the stroller and attempted to gain entrance into the casino. We were told by several security personnel and the valet that there was no way anyone under 21 could enter the casino. (Never mind that the casino in Sequim let chidren into Saturday's auditions.) We pleaded and begged and I shared Beth's story with the powers that be to no avail. When we realized that Ethan would not be allowed admittance, I insisted that Beth try out and I would take Ethan for a ride around Tacoma to entertain him. Beth suggested that I take him to a place where he could crawl around. I decided to take him to Tacoma Mall--a place I'd never before visited.

Ethan and I set off to find the mall, but the little guy was upset that his mother wasn't accompanying us. He cried non-stop until we reached the mall parking lot and then fell asleep. Rather than wake him and take him out of the car, I drove around for 40 minutes--30 of those minutes were spent circling the Chuck E. Cheese's parking lot. Eventually Ethan awakened and I took him into Chuck E.'s to have some fun. What was I thinking? He again noticed that his mother wasn't present and proceeded to voice his displeasure. I got "looks" from many of the customers--looks like "you're too old to have a baby;" "that baby wouldn't cry like that if you were his real mother," etc. I took Beth's advice and put Ethan down to crawl, but he wouldn't have any of it. Finally, we left the store and only used 1 of our "tokens."

We drove back to the casino and arrived just in time to hear Beth's great news that she was given a chance to audition. Her name was the second to the last to be called. She was on cloud nine! Next it was my turn to enter the competition. I didn't have the same luck as Beth, but that was fine by me. We both left happy. Beth was happy she got to audition, and I was happy that Beth was given the chance to audition. I was happy just to help make that possible for Beth, and happy that I got to see the inner workings of a Wheel of Fortune audition. I would like to be a game show contestant some day.