Tag: writing

balance

Road Bike Ramblings

2chicksandapen

Checked the tires. Helmet on. Out before dawn.

A pre-sunrise neighborhood bike ride was on the docket. Thirty minutes. Easy peasy. Just cruising to get the blood flowing early on a Sunday.

I live at the top of a hill. So the very first thing I get to do is fly. Fly down the hill, wind in my face, breathing deep. Yes, all you Safety Susies, I left my Airpods at home so I could pay closer attention to any traffic at the early hour. As a side benefit I also enjoyed the sounds of the crickets. The frogs. The quiet of morning. A line from a poem came to mind…”to be the only one awake in a house wrapped in sleep.” There is a special peace in that (and maybe a few giggles thinking how many safety cameras I was tripping off.)

Once the wind hit my face on that downhill I remembered how much I love my road bike. Just getting going on it makes me smile but flying down a hill is such a special feeling of freedom. So it makes no sense that I don’t ride more often. I only get out once a month or so. I keep saying I am going to do a triathlon this year. But I realized I am in a mode where the distance between what I say I want to do and what I actually do is great. I want to slim down to feel better but I don’t adjust my nutrition to achieve that. I want to write more but don’t take the time. I want to express gratitude to people who have helped me but the thank you cards still sit in their wrapper. Something I thought about as I rolled under the streetlamps.

Back to biking…I have been doing an endurance program at the gym once a week on a stationary bike. It’s been good for my pacing and endurance control. I tell myself it’s triathlon training. But it doesn’t replace time on an actual road on a bike.

When it comes to the road bike, I hate the uphills. I fumble with the gears trying to make my legs hurt less. My neighborhood is basically all hills of various lengths and gradients. (This is one reason why I sometimes don’t get on my road bike. It takes time and effort to transport it to a flat course.) But as I was riding this morning, I embraced the hills. I took my time getting up them. I sat with the pain instead of resisting it. And then, I enjoyed the coast down the other side. The reward for the work. The time to breathe.

I thought about many friends who I know are facing that big hill in their lives. With a job. With a family member. With a relationship. With themselves. They don’t want to climb it. They would rather go around or just stay put. (This is me, too! In more areas than I’ve even shared.) The only way to get that feeling of freedom is to do the work of getting up the hill. Some times of life are just smooth effort, puttering along on the flats, enjoying the scenery. But exhilaration, the relief, the satisfaction of wind at my face comes after I’ve pushed myself through a challenge. Time to summit the hills I’ve just been staring down, hoping they will disappear. I have been given these mountains to show they can be moved, as they say. Or, so that I can enjoy the beauty and freedom of the other side.

anonymous letters, awareness

Crazy Train

2chicksandapen

Whoot! Whoot!

The crazy train has arrived. 

This special little train has arrived in your community. Who is on the train? Who is talking about this? Who isn’t talking about it?

Is this scenario real or is it fake news? This story simulates a real life drama you see on television but you are starring in the grand show. What on earth am I about to share with you? I am talking about a helicopter parent dropping her bat shit craziness literally on your door step. Yes this happens more than people want to admit. I don’t have any idea why either nor do I want to speculate.

My story is based on events this week in a suburb of a major metropolitan city. A mom literally lost her marbles and went rogue when her child didn’t win a coveted county athletic award. I kid you not, she lost her ability to see how silly her actions were and how her negative behavior could scar those connected to her, including her child. 

I was in shock. I was awe struck. My mouth might have been left wide open at one point. A helicopter parent actually created a fictitious award for her high school athlete who did NOT earn her own award. That’s right folks. A parent created a phony award. The woman went to the highest extent to recognize and celebrate her child in the most bizarre fashion. Colored graphics, high resolution photos, prior coach recommendations, prior teammate validation from across town, fancy words describing her athletic prowess, good sportsmanship, and so on. So much effort was put into this award that wasn’t earned. The award was a parental masterpiece in their mind. A mere joke to others. Of course I can’t post the actual award as it would be insensitive to the child.

The helicopter mom even went as far as posting online on the day peers received awards at an actual banquet where athletes received their own merit award as voted upon by other area coaches. The helicopter parent posted this self-proclaimed award on social media for the community to see. For the entire community to see her overshadow those who actually won an award fair and square. And if that wasn’t enough she blamed the coach for overlooking her child publicly. The helicopter parent didn’t care who’s reputation she tarnished.

This was funny since it’s other coaches who vote, not the actual coach of the home team the kid plays on. Can anyone say meddling helicopter parent? Have you ever encountered this kind of crazy train in your local community? I wish I could go back to my childhood and see if such behavior ever existed around me. I don’t recall.

In the good old days, I played sports for fun. I spent many hours a day outside playing. I spent my summers at the park learning fundamentals in many sports as part of the youth recreation program. We had pick up games. We won and lost but nobody ever complained. Never once would a parent pick a fight with a kid or cause a ruckus over child’s play. It simply wasn’t important.

High school athletics is more competitive. It was then and it is now. Parents were proud back in the day but they didn’t fight their kids’ battles. College athletics is the same as well. It’s the athletes that put in work not the birth givers. Therefore it’s the athletes that earn their spot on the field or their play time and of course their award. It’s their name on the plaque not the birth givers. No parent should have the ability to influence their child’s place on a team in a competitive sport when one reaches high school. It’s absurd. It’s not fair. It doesn’t teach the athlete to compete. It teaches them how to complain to win. It’s bullying.

Let’s dial back to mental health for a moment. What benefit can a parent receive from their child receiving a coveted award that is not earned? Does it fulfill a void from their childhood? Does it win loyal friendships for their child? Does it gain confidence among coaches and peer athletes? I seriously doubt it. 

What I don’t doubt is that it will create a backlash. A derailed train. The child becomes at risk. Said child can be made fun of. Said child can become depressed and withdrawn. Said child can be angry and retaliate as they learned such a skill from their parent, all of which leads to challenges that may not be able to be reversed. This could also create scars that are not physically visible. This could lead the child to suffer in silence. Was the mock award worth it? I doubt it.

As a parent we need to just do better. Kids today are already under pressure due to today’s social norms. These kids don’t need parents adding strain to their already stressful life that is pretty much available 24/7/365 online.

Twitter, Instagram, facebook, group chats, instant messengers, etc are all outlets young adults use to share information. If you don’t want your story on the front page of the news, don’t post it online. It’s that simple.

I know when I post on this blog site not everyone will like what I post. It is okay. There may be some that benefit from my rants. I unfortunately can’t share the outcome of this crazy train as it makes frequent stops in the general community I may or may not call home or homebase. One day it may be your house. Another day it may be a friend’s house. Next week it’s the newbie’s house. Sooner or later the crazy train runs out of stops.

At that point the train parks itself or fixates itself on one poor soul. The train is set for the long haul. Behaviors escalate and those around get scared. What’s next.  A shooting? A fist fight? A shift to private school from public? I don’t have the answers.

What I can say is hard work pays off. Those who fail should work hard to get noticed the next time around. They should ask a coach what should they do in the off season to see success in the future. Display resilience. Be eager to show one’s worth. Don’t run to a birth giver and ask for recognition. An athlete has to be mentally and physically tough. They need to have the ability to push through the hard stuff. Sometimes the hard stuff comes daily.

If one was in the NFL and made a mistake there is a consequence. You get fired, fined or relocated. Your birth giver wouldn’t be able to fight your battles. I could write a whole book on the subject of parents and entitlements. Kids today need to learn to problem solve on their own.

A teacher isn’t going to change the kid’s report card if they fail their class. That’s unheard of. The same principal should apply for awards. If you fail in a season a coach can’t be expected to give an award for less than stellar performance. 

Helicopter parents need to get a hobby. Take up knitting. Buy a coloring book. Find a way to entertain yourself that doesn’t involve living in your kids shoes. It will never work out well for you or your kid. PSA #404.

I would also refer back to “Lessons” post from back in May. It’s one worth rereading a couple times a year.

health

All That Blood

2chicksandapen

1 hour into vacation. 1 hour.

The teen calls and said we have an emergency. Me: what kind of emergency? Teen: so much blood, come now.

200 feet seemed like 200 miles in the moment. This trail of blood seemed like nothing compared to the flow of blood leading to the injured party. Was it a shark bite? So many things ran through my mind.

First aid began with attempting to stop the blood until we could get out of the sand and germy water. That in itself was a challenge lugging someone with a bloody foot. I didn’t really pay attention at the time but no bystander offered help which now that I think about it seems absurd.

The infamous bloody foot. Eight stitches later. A lot pain and suffering while the cleaning and stitching was done at the local emergency room. So much pride left on that beach for the young invisible teen. Along with the loss of pride was much regret. I could see it in his eyes. Disappointment for the vacation that was yet to be had.

This experience made me think I was happy to have my first aid kit on hand not thinking I would ever need it. After the wound was handled, I definitely went ahead and replenished and added a few more triage items to be sure I’m ready for any future injuries. I would never want to be unprepared for a shark attack at a beach.

Since this accident took place one hour into vacation that meant I had to work hard to keep the wound clean and on its path to healing while beachside. That is no easy task with an active teen. 

Was a lesson learned? Yes. Was I thankful for the outcome? Yes. Did I need to make a dreaded phone call to the parent of the teen I was responsible for? Yes. This is the call nobody would ever want to make. However, the calm voice on the other end of the phone was kind and genuine. No anger. No judgment. Just gratitude for being there to support the injured. What a relief.

What a relief for me. Another day will pass. Count every blessing and every experience you have, but never lose sight of danger that can be feet away. Always have your antennas up and ready to lunge into emergency action whether you need help or another nearby.

If you don’t know basic first aid, take a course. I have had to sling broken bones, now handle a gash and worst of all had to administer CPR. All on kids. Not fun, but humbling.

Be safe and enjoy my bloody story. The ocean can be safe but also dangerous. Always watch your feet for objects like broken glass, fishing hooks, and of course sea life.

adventure

RV Life Episode 4

2chicksandapen

I see the sand!

Navarre Beach, Florida here we come.

It’s the Fourth of July 2022. I was tipped off to this hot spot from a friend earlier this year and found some time to squeeze in a short trip. Friends in tow. Bikes loaded for exploration. Dogs are excited for play time in the sand. No have to’s on the list just play time. Fun in the sun is on the agenda.

The stillness in the morning on the private beach is simply mesmerizing. Breakfast cozied up outside in the fresh air was welcoming especially when friends came over for coffee and wordle chit chat. Breakfasts consisted of eggs and bacon, waffles and apples, avocado toast with grated hard boiled eggs. A serious must try for those wondering about this great tik tok hack. Grating the hard boiled egg adds flair to your basic breakfast for sure.

Nights were equally pleasurable. The calmness of the water and the sun set was the same view yet completely different vibe. I could have done without the mosquitos on this trip but I guess my skin is so sweet they just found me super attractive. Yes I am going to keep telling myself that.

Catching the newly realized episodes of Stranger Things outside at night with the cooler air was nice. This particular camping retreat also had a nice cozy common area that included swings, games and a fire pit to entertain everyone in a little different way.

Too many stories to share. I will just leave this note for those who camp by tent or by RV. Mark the Hideaway Camping Retreat in Navarre Beach, Florida as must visit spot. Great for all ages and as peaceful as sites come.  I may have had the best site in area. Spot 4 to be exact. Tent campsites offered power which made it manageable for a friend who opted for that mode of camping.

I didn’t mention the kayaks, paddle boards or bikes specifically, but those were great bonuses on this adventure. Despite a little rain we still packed in a lot of action into our holiday stay. Another sticker is marked on the RV for states we camped in. Making memories one trip at a time.

Wishing everyone a spectacular Fourth of July as this year I’m spending mine beachside in my own little sanctuary.

3Splitz Farm, awareness

Turn the Page

2chicksandapen

Restless again?

Time to turn the page.

While reading Matthew’s book (noted below) I came across many similarities. For one I had just passed the page about his hometown of Uvalde, TX when the mass shooting took place. He spoke about fond memories of a vacation spot in Navarre Beach, FL where I am set to vacation in a week. He mentioned the great experiences of taking his Airsteam on the road and living the care free while I was riding in my RV reading his book. It was as if I was meant to read this book when I was reading it.

And his cover photo. The look of pondering. A daily view for me. And then there was a little blurb about being restless. The story of my life. Always chasing sparkly objects. Always looking for the next adventure. Always chasing what’s ahead. Never dwelling on what’s behind. The forward progression. Always. 

Turn the page is what I took from the between the lines message or invisible ink. Turn the page in your book. Keep going. Keep moving forward no matter what. Maybe the weeds in life may grow and tangle your best life but they are just weeds. They grow to test you. They teach you, if you listen. When you turn the page new weeds of life may sprout to test you again. They may even teach you a different lesson. Just turn the page.

For me today I turn the page for many things. A new time in life (season). A new basket of experiences through the lens of an RV. A new financial experience after consolidating an investment portfolio. I have weeds, literally and figuratively in front of me, along side of me and so on. I choose to look past the weeds. Everyday.

The weird lesson here is if you stand in your weeds too long you will be covered up in weeds. The weeds of life that can weigh you down and not allow you to see the beauty on the other side. One must change things, places, people, or overall surroundings in life to grow. To gain a new perspective. Matthew talks about how many times he does this in his book, although his shift ties to a wet dream. Mine does not! To grow beyond weeds is what I dream about. This is where the beauty lies. Beyond the weeds there are always things or people ready to bloom in one way or another.

Life is like a flower. It blooms among the weeds. It is then taken from the weeds to be sold to somebody to nurture and enjoy. The beauty within the weeds sprouted and lived its best life on your kitchen table because some flower farmer took the time to bring this beauty (flower) to you.

Sort of a weird lesson from the book to my life to the flower but funny thing is, flowers are part of my dream. My future. My beyond the weeds. Follow @3splitzfarm on Instagram to watch my flower farm bring joy from the weeds to others.

Do you ever get covered in the weeds of life?

Do flowers make you smile like they do me?

Do you ever reset within your life to grow?

Wonder. Create. Repeat.