I got home last night from a fantastic Idahoan excursion that lasted almost a week at the Spaulding family Reunion in Twin Falls and few days relaxing up at my parents' cabin. I had a great time catching up with cousins, gorging myself on the best dutchoven ever, and helping the Yellow team come in third in the first ever Spaulding Olympics. (Yeah, there were only 4 teams ;) However, much like Reese's favorite bedtime book, Little Pea, there was one thing I did not like: the Raging, Burning, Relay of Death.
Granted, that's not the official name, and while the view was fantastic, it unfortunately sent my trash to the curb with the swiftest and most effective of kicks.
A little background, here. To finish off a day of olympic events- frisbee golf, karaoke competitions, and a rubix cube challenge to name a few- we were driven to the base of a mountain, and five from each team waited patiently for their turn to carry the colored baton to victory. In all fairness, I should mention here, that my cousin Josh- our team captain- gave me the option to back out, but I thought to myself- no way! I'm in shape! I go running, and a quarter mile is nothing- I do that no problem at home! So he gave me Anchor, aka, the last leg and home stretch of the race. No pressure.
As I waited for my turn, I looked ahead and felt the beginning of a knot forming in my stomach. It looked pretty steep. But I reminded myself that it wasn't too far- just up the hill, around the curve and through the finish line.
I should probably mention that I have a pride issue, and this isn't the only time it's gotten me into trouble. In the MTC I very nearly died trying to keep up with a marathon runner during workout time (for the record I found out about the marathons AS we were running), but my stubborn pride wouldn't let me beg off- even though her starting pace was pretty close to my finishing sprint. Had I not been a missionary (promised protection, you know) I'm pretty sure my number would have been up that day.
Anyway, fast-forward to when I get the baton.
I take off running and think, "Yes! See? I can totally do this- easy peasy!" Yeah, and then, brick wall. Burning like I've never known hit my chest. You see, the hill was probably about a 10% grade, and the elevation something around 7,000 feet. Great Falls is around 3,000. Slight difference there. All I could think was, "Keep moving! And whatever you do, don't be last!" Pride. It's a killer.
Right about that time I look over and see my nephew Broc on the sideline. I can see the finish line up ahead and even though it's pretty close it seems like I'll never make it. Broc sees me and yells out,
"Aunt Molly! I got stung!!!"
At the same time I hear my cousin Jeep coming up behind me, closing in to take Third and leave me where I really don't want to be: Last.
Granted, that's not the official name, and while the view was fantastic, it unfortunately sent my trash to the curb with the swiftest and most effective of kicks.
A little background, here. To finish off a day of olympic events- frisbee golf, karaoke competitions, and a rubix cube challenge to name a few- we were driven to the base of a mountain, and five from each team waited patiently for their turn to carry the colored baton to victory. In all fairness, I should mention here, that my cousin Josh- our team captain- gave me the option to back out, but I thought to myself- no way! I'm in shape! I go running, and a quarter mile is nothing- I do that no problem at home! So he gave me Anchor, aka, the last leg and home stretch of the race. No pressure.
As I waited for my turn, I looked ahead and felt the beginning of a knot forming in my stomach. It looked pretty steep. But I reminded myself that it wasn't too far- just up the hill, around the curve and through the finish line.
I should probably mention that I have a pride issue, and this isn't the only time it's gotten me into trouble. In the MTC I very nearly died trying to keep up with a marathon runner during workout time (for the record I found out about the marathons AS we were running), but my stubborn pride wouldn't let me beg off- even though her starting pace was pretty close to my finishing sprint. Had I not been a missionary (promised protection, you know) I'm pretty sure my number would have been up that day.
Anyway, fast-forward to when I get the baton.
I take off running and think, "Yes! See? I can totally do this- easy peasy!" Yeah, and then, brick wall. Burning like I've never known hit my chest. You see, the hill was probably about a 10% grade, and the elevation something around 7,000 feet. Great Falls is around 3,000. Slight difference there. All I could think was, "Keep moving! And whatever you do, don't be last!" Pride. It's a killer.
Right about that time I look over and see my nephew Broc on the sideline. I can see the finish line up ahead and even though it's pretty close it seems like I'll never make it. Broc sees me and yells out,
"Aunt Molly! I got stung!!!"
At the same time I hear my cousin Jeep coming up behind me, closing in to take Third and leave me where I really don't want to be: Last.
Moral delema.
Realizing that if I stopped now, I would never get up the momentum to take on the last stretch of that mountain. But, being the loving Aunt that I am, somewhere in the midst of my pain I knew the poor kid needed some love and attention. So, I did the only thing I could, I kept running and yelled out,
"Come on Broc, run with me- up to the top, come on! Just shake that one off buddy, you can do it!"
Now before you go thinking I'm a terrible person, you should know that he just touched some stinging nettle and a little hydrocortizone fixed him right up. And, being the sweet kid he is, he didn't hold it against me.
Yeah, ok, so maybe I haven't got the pride thing all worked out yet, but we did get third, and despite the death-like burning in my chest and desire to throw up once I reached the top, I felt pretty good. But that was mostly because I knew I was getting a ride back down.
Realizing that if I stopped now, I would never get up the momentum to take on the last stretch of that mountain. But, being the loving Aunt that I am, somewhere in the midst of my pain I knew the poor kid needed some love and attention. So, I did the only thing I could, I kept running and yelled out,
"Come on Broc, run with me- up to the top, come on! Just shake that one off buddy, you can do it!"
Now before you go thinking I'm a terrible person, you should know that he just touched some stinging nettle and a little hydrocortizone fixed him right up. And, being the sweet kid he is, he didn't hold it against me.
Yeah, ok, so maybe I haven't got the pride thing all worked out yet, but we did get third, and despite the death-like burning in my chest and desire to throw up once I reached the top, I felt pretty good. But that was mostly because I knew I was getting a ride back down.
Mese and I at the top of the Mountain
And here are a few pics from the rest of the reunion--
After being in camp only a few hours it was hard to distinguish Reese from the trail
Flip flop lines. Don't you love her chubby little feet?!
Posing with Grandma and Grandpa
Reese and her cousin Nathan who is a day younger. They weren't really sure what to make of each other.
Making 'burritos' with my cousin Jill's daughter, Railey
Reese, Grandpa, and Broc
The Yellow Team shooting pop cans with Nerf Guns in the Olympics
Reese persuading Grandpa to share a little more of his cobbler
4 comments:
So true, so true!!! I was pretty sure I would not make it up that "little" mountain. I can't believe how bruttle it was! I, like you, was caught off guard by the change in altitude. I am just glad we made it and didn't come in last. ;)
Oh goodness, how thankful I am to have a baby cookin'... I'm pretty sure that I really would have died. i guess pregnancy has its perks ;) PS you look so freakin hot in that "view" picture - you sexy thang.
Sounds fun! I can't believe how big Reese looks in that picture of her with Grandpa and Broc!
That looks like a lot of fun, Molly! And I love the picture of Reese's little sandal-marked feet! She is sure a cute kid! :)
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