The Quest for Another Runner's High

Some time early on in my Elementary School years I discovered my love-hate relationship with running. 1st? 2nd grade maybe?  Mrs. Inge the PE teacher started the "Running Wildcat Club."  We kept track of our laps around the blacktop by taking popsicle sticks from our teacher.  Five laps around was a mile. Our goal was to "Run Across America." Or something like that. It was a good day at recess when I was able to run 5 laps around. An awesome day if it was 6.  Once I made it to third grade I was finally old enough to race in the mile during Field Day.  While I looked forward to it, the run quickly became a source of anxiety, too.  I managed to prevail over the butterflies and I beat all the girls and all the boys, except two: Cryst Banks and Stephen Jones. At the end of the year I was voted "Most Athletic" among Mrs. Robertson's 3rds grad class superlatives. At the time I was a little bummed about it, wishing I had received "Cutest Smile" or "Best Dressed"...or something "cool" like that.

I was running a 7-minute mile by the 5th grade, beating all the boys this time. In 6th grade I ran a 6:10 mile, in 7th 5:53. In 8th I shut down mentally and I didn't run anything special. It took a while for me to tap into my competitive side again. It wasn't until 11th grade when I got a new coach. Coach Joe, who had been coaching the boys distance team now had a charge over the girls, too. He was just what I needed and challenged me physically in every way. He was sternWe were running stadium steps and doing workouts harder than I'd ever done. My legs would be shaking at the end of practice. As a result, I finally got my mile down to 5:32. It was about time!

Jessica Hughes, Hanna McGrath, Tara Rabuck and Me at a celebratory spaghetti dinner {before or after some important meet...not sure!}

In high school I quite enjoyed practicing with my fellow teammates. They were a special group of gals and will always hold a special place in my heart. Track meets were still another story. I was anxious, and the nervousness consumed me. I began to dread Wednesdays, the day we had track meets. Butterflies in my stomach all day. I spent so many Wednesdays in dread and fear! Mom and Dad came faithfully every Wednesday. They remained my great cheerleaders and supported me, even in my slumps. They drove me to invitationals and bought pair after pair of running shoes and track spikes.  I remember when I left one of my spikes at an invitational at Atlee High School...I was in a rush to leave after my race so I could hurry and get ready with my friend Sheryl for a Stake Dance.  While they had every reason to be irritated with me, they were understanding and bought me a new pair after I had exhausted all my resources to locate the mission shoe.  Now that I am a parent, I realize how much love and patience that response must have taken. They are awesome.

Tara and I. I've known her since the first grade. My time flies!

 After our first invitational of the season, Mt. Trashmore (seriously, that's the real name) we hit the beach. My running buddy Shelly and I meandered over to the shops and tried on some hats and swim suit cover-ups for fun.

The girls met over for a Spaghetti dinner slash movie night watching Prefontaine a before a track meet one evening to pump us up. {or just another excuse to spend more time together!}

Once my "running career" was over and I had graduated high school it was bitter sweet. In many ways I was so relieved that the days of constant nervousness were over and that if I wanted to run, I could. I would never have to compete again. But I didn't end on a good note. I always joke with Kyle and my sisters in my very Napoleon Dynamite-Uncle-Rico-esque way: "I woulda taken state had coach let me train for the 800."  Let me explain. During my junior year, I was on fire. I was undefeated in the district up until we ran against the Governor's School.   I was on pace to break the school record, which was conveniently held by the wife of my History teacher. I was looking forward to breaking the news to him in class that his wife's name no longer held the spot for fastest 800 meters.  I LOVED that race. I loved it because it required so much less mental strength than the mile and the two mile. It was almost a sprint. Many have said it's the hardest distance but for me it was the easiest. The first lap you just run fast. The second lap you no longer can feel your legs so you just keep going. And you can keep going. Because it's just one more lap. Not 8 laps like the 2 mile. Not 4 like the mile.

The week of the district meet I got bronchitis. Coach Joe tried to pump me up by telling me the story of when he took Regions in the mile the week he had pneumonia. "It's all in your head, Sheppard," he told me.

That was the problem.

Mentally I am very weak. In fact, it wouldn't have taken much for me to collapse mentally. I don't remember how the race went, but I didn't place like I wanted to and I didn't break Mr. Condon's wife's record. I had already qualified for Regionals with a prior time, so even though I placed poorly in districts, on I went to the Regional track meet.  It didn't go so well, either.

Which brings me to Uncle Rico's turf. Senior Year. Coach Joe sat me down and said he was training me for the mile and 2 mile. I was heart-broken. "I'm not my sister! I'm not Melody!" I protested. My sister had been the 2-mile champion of the school,  and fared well in our district, region and the state in the awful race.  I was very much not my sister, the long-distance Goddess. Then the people-pleaser in me tucked my head down and went ahead and trained for the mile and two mile that spring season.  I could stomach the mile, but it was hard for me to give it my all, when I knew I had the 2-mile to run in less than an hour. I hated the 2-mile so much. 8 LAPS. Ugh.

My senior year was less than awesome and I did have regrets. I let my mind prevent me from doing well and before I knew it, I was kissing senior year goodbye.  I continued to run recreationally to stay in shape.  I found I really, really enjoyed that. No races to get nervous over. Just me and the pavement. I decided I wanted to really accomplish something with my running still. Something hard, but be able to do it on my watch, and not feel pain-- or very much of it.

At 19, I signed up for the St. George Marathon. The year was 2001. I was selected in the lottery and proceeded to "train" the summer leading to the run. That was the summer I met Kyle. I think he thought it was kind of awesome I was training for a marathon. I laugh now, thinking about how ill-prepared I was training. I had no Garmin to track my mileage. I never went on Map my run dot com. I just did it by time. How long I went running and calculated assuming I was running a  10-minute mile. I never once took water or gatorade on my runs. No goos. And my music? My bulky Discman that I left at an unsuspecting Orem Gold's Gym back in 2004 with mix CDs from friends.  Sometimes I even brought my Walkman with my favorite mix tapes on it.  And I ran in the heat.  I remember coming home from a 3-hour run on University Avenue wanting to throw myself in front of a semi because I felt so awful. But it always felt good to report the mileage I had run at the end of the day to Kyle. And he was always so supportive.

Two weeks before the marathon Kyle was in town and we went to play laser tag with some friends on a group date. In my quest to dodge a laser beam I tripped and fell. I limped around for 2 days and finally went to the BYU Health Center where a very kind doctor broke the news to me that I tore my achilles and would not be running in the marathon. He was such a nice doctor. He took me into his office and searched for upcoming marathons that I could feasibly run in once my leg had a chance to heal. Unfortunately the only upcoming one was "Top of Utah" and that one was scheduled before I would have a chance to heal.

So I may have cried.

My awesome roomie, Nicole on her 22nd Birthday in our beloved Courtside Apartment

When I got home to my apartment I broke the news to my roomies. They were all very sweet about it.  Nicole set up the card table outside on our balcony where we ate dinner alfresco, in an effort to lift my spirits.

In 2007(?) I signed up for the Richmond Marathon. After years of haphazardly running here and there, I thought it was high time I cross this thing off my list. I was living in Chicago at the time and thought how FUN it would be to run it with my darling high school cross country friend, Jessica. Savvy was just an infant which translate to: I had some post-baby softness I wanted to firm up.  Plus, Richmond has is known for being the world's "friendliest marathon."  Friendly is good. So I trained along the Prairie Path by my home. By this time I had upgraded to an i-Pod thanks to my husband but I still had never downloaded i-Tunes on my computer so I just used Kyle's music. I wasn't a huge fan of most of the tunes, but I never took the time to make my own play list. Kyle had purchased a Garmin watch from a returned goods sale at REI, but it was bulky and hurt my wrist to wear. I still didn't run with water or gatorade. Come to think of it, I was pretty dumb to run by myself down the Prairie Path. It got kind of creepy some times. One day I was out for a 10-miler and it was a few weeks shy of the marathon. I got this awful pain in my knee and ended up having to walk home 5 miles.

I went to a sports medicine doctor who diagnosed me with ilio-tibial syndrome. He showed me some exercises and things I could do to help it, as well as a very strict icing regime. Running on it wouldn't make it worse, it would just be painful.

Those who know me well can attest to my childishly low tolerance for pain.

I tried my best to stay on top of the icing and Advil and stretching....but the reality was I couldn't run when it was painful.  It was not pleasant.

So I gracefully bowed out of Marathon #2.  I was bummed I had to call Jessica and tell her I wouldn't be running with her. She went on to run it and did really, really well.


Jessica and I before the District Cross Country Meet at Deep Run Park Senior Year. We were sporting our Pocahonatas inspired warrior cheek-stripes. Definitely made us run faster!

In 2009 I tried again. This was going to be my year!  I was planning on running the Ogden Marathon with my big sister. Well, we would be running in the same race, but she would be about an hour ahead of me.  I began training in Idaho and I will be honest. I got a little behind on my training schedule, and as a result, went on a much longer run than my body was ready for. And back came ilio=tibial syndrome.  I couldn't bear the pain so I let it heal and trained instead for the Ogden Half Marathon.

It was a great race and I felt good the entire time. While it was my first  half marathon "race" that I had ever completed, it wasn't the first time I had run 13.1 miles. So it didn't feel important, you know? I still really wanted to do something "harder" that would stretch me physically and mentally that I had never done before.

After moving to Utah, I reconnected with my book club friend Sarah who lived just minutes from our rental and began running with her group of gal pals in the mornings. We trained for and ran in the Provo Halloween Half Marathon together which was a blast. It was very reminiscent of the high school days. I had forgotten how nice it was to have a girlfriend to chat with on morning runs-- they were so much more enjoyable! In December we moved out of our rental and into our new home. I found myself expecting babe #3, so the running was put to rest for a season.

After Ruby was born I had much needed bunion surgery on both feet. The recovery was long, bless my family's heart!  I was quite the lump for months. I was itching to be active again, but even walking was a task for many, many weeks. Once Ruby was nearly a year old, my feet were finally back to "normal." It was time. Time to run.  So I ran from time to time, but was never really regular or committed. Kyle was always great about encouraging me to go out, but it was something I needed to decide for myself, and if he mentioned "You should go for a run," I mentally reverted to a teenager and instantly would decide I didn't want to run, if simply because it was suggested by him and not my own idea on my own watch.

Then one day in the early fall it hit me. I was 29 years old. 30 was on the horizon and what had I done in my lifetime? What had I accomplished? I really wanted to cross something incredible off my bucket list.  Many have responded to that,"You have 3 kids! You're married! That's an accomplishment!"  I don't want to discredit those events by any means. My family IS my world to me and they are my everything. Parenting IS hard, the hardest job I've ever had in my life. Marrying a fantastic guy is an accomplishment.  Even still I have a hard time articulating why I wanted to feel more accomplished. I suppose when I had envisioned myself at 30, I envisioned someone more than who I was at this point. In my mind at 30 I was a great wife, patient mother, active and involved community member who had her act together. Not unrealistically by any means. I didn't have some crazy vision of perfection. I just envisioned myself having mastered things that I still struggle with, even sometimes on a daily basis.  I needed to set a difficult goal and achieve it. Just to prove to myself I could accomplish something hard. I needed to be reminded that I could do hard things again. It's so easy for me to get caught up in the day-to-day to-do lists and I think I needed to know that inside me there was some untapped source of awesomeness that was just waiting to be awoken.

It soon hit me crystal clear: This was the year I needed to do the marathon. So at book club I recruited my friend Liz to run with me in the mornings. That was the best thing I ever did. She really helped get me going and running consistently. By Christmastime Liz was pregnant and puking, so I had to say goodbye to my mornings with her. But I was off to a great start. Not to mention, Kyle had purchased another, more awesome Garmin watch that was lightweight and hi-tech {also purchased at a returned-goods sale at REI for pennies on the dollar}.  I lived very close to the Provo River Trail, which was beautiful training grounds. I signed up for the Ogden Marathon and printed out my training schedule and was off to a great start.

I kid you not when I say there was Divine help in my marathon training process. Every single long run was completed in beautiful weather. I never had to battle with myself if I was going to run or not because of the weather. Remember, I was training in the winter, snow and ice of Utah. There was supposed to be ice on the trail and freezing rain at my face.  There was not. It was the most mild winter I have ever experienced out here. I don't care that some blame global warming or El Nino's great grandchild on our out-of-character whether. God was smiling down on me and knew I needed some sunshine in order to make this thing happen.

I went to the running store by my home to pick out some new running shoes. A really helpful associate took the time to help me decide the best size and shoe. He encouraged me to be prepared to race the marathon in the Saucony Fastwitch shoe, a size and a half bigger than I normally wore. The shoe was lightweight and far from the clonky, uberly support-heavy shoes I was accustomed to running and training for a marathon in. I was nervous about the size, but he explained to me how my foot was supposed to feel in the shoe and gave me the visual in my mind.  I compromised and bought both the Fastwitch and my running pillows. It wasn't long before I was preferring the light-weight shoes-- something I never thought possible.

Kyle remained ever-supportive of me the entire time. The most sweet gesture I thought was when he purchased me a hand-held mini bottle of mace I could take running with me when I was alone. And it was pink. Yeah, super sweet. Each run he was always happily willing to take over the kids and home while I was gone. Even if it meant I'd be gone for 2.5 hours.  The Garmin was fantastic. My tunes, however left much to be desired.  I was kind of sick of my Ogden Half Marathon mix of tunes as it had been a few years. So I finally branched out and did what Kyle has been telling me to do for years and set up an i-Tunes account.  Once I got started I laughed at myself for why it took me so long to do that. I asked my friend Mary, who has similar taste in music but far more "into" the music scene than I, if she would compile a playlist for me. Wow, did the girl deliver!  4 hours of music over the course of a few weeks was received and I was a happy runner.

Once Kyle left for the pest control summer, it didn't take long for me to realize how much I had taken him for granted. All those runs I did just by saying, "See ya, Sweetie ! I'll be back in a while!" Now every single time I wanted to run I had to make sure I had someone home with the kids. That was kind of frustrating. It consumed me--- always worrying every day if this was the day I would run, or if I needed to wait until tomorrow if I couldn't find a sitter.  Then my angel-sister Rebecca called and said she was giving me Fridays. She would come over and watch the kids so I could go on my run and do any errands I needed to. How sweet!  Her gesture was so timely because THAT was the week I needed to do my big twenty-miler.

The twenty-miler is EVERYTHING to a marathoner. Well, at least it was to me. It was going to be so tell-tale of how the marathon would go. It would prove to myself whether or not I had trained well.  It would be as close as I could possibly get of feeling what the "real thing" would be like.  Having the stress of who would watch my kids for such a long run was relieved, and that was HUGE.  Rebecca showed up with Bailey and the pack and play and said to take as long as I needed, she was in no rush to go anywhere.

Armed with Goo, my cute little pink mace, Mary's playlist on my Shuffle, a new waist band with water bottles attached, and Melody's Garmin (I misplaced mine, oops! thank heaven's she had two!) I was off.
I chuckled to myself thinking how much more prepared I was for a long run than the girl who trained for a marathon 10 years ago.

The run was incredible. No pit stops necessary. At one point I realized I still had to go 1.25 more miles before I could consider it "half-way" and turn around and run back home. The only way I could go was up. So up I ran for 1.25 miles. I didn't stop. I didn't even want to die. It was incredible. I just kept hitting repeat on this song, which for some reason, fueled me and kept me going.  It's not an upbeat song, but for some reason, I just enjoyed hearing it, over and over until I was done running up the mountain. I finally had a glimpse of what a marathon would feel like and honestly, it didn't even seem that bad. Things were looking up.  If indeed, "Sheppard, it's all in your head," was true, things in my head were looking pretty strong and sunny at long last.

Unknown Sacrifice.

The summer after my junior year in high school I was planning on going to Utah for a few weeks to visit family and also attend EFY at Brigham Young University. My young women's leader insisted on introducing me to her brother-in-law who was my age.  She just knew we would be great friends.  I was given his phone number and while it could have been a really awkward conversation, it wasn't at all. It was comfortable, lively and by the end of it, I was looking forward to meeting this Erick guy in person. He seemed incredibly fun if nothing else. 

When Erick picked me up in Orem after EFY with 4 of his friends, he was much different from the guy I had talked with on the phone. He was quiet, reserved, and almost shy.  I was perplexed.  A moment or two after getting in the car, fits of laughter came from the back seat of the van and the REAL Erick Lund emerged to take over the driver's seat. He had his friend pretend to be him--- just to see my reaction I guess. It was a pretty funny joke. I have to admit I was relieved when the real Erick revealed himself. He was much easier to carry a conversation with. We spent the day at Seven Peaks water park with his friends, not far from where I live now.  While we were eating a picnic lunch on our inner tubes, Erick motioned for me to look at  the other two couples who were about 15 yards in front of us starting to flirt. He got a kick out of watching the romance develop and wanted to capture it on camera for blackmail. He took my camera and tried taking a picture of his friends who "swore" they were just friends, acting a little more friendly than usual. Then he thought it would be great to get a shot of our feet in the air while we were sitting on the tubes. He snapped the photo and then left to pour cold water on his flirting friends.

When the sun went down all six of us had red-faces and were tuckered out. He dropped me off at my aunt's house in Bountiful where I gave him a very generous token of thanks for the fun day --- Chapstick. {It was made in Richmond. Had to bring something from the home-town!} We exchanged addresses and bid farewells and he was off to Logan. His sister-in-law was right--- we had become great friends after just a single day. I got double prints of our pictures at Seven Peaks and mailed a set his way. We had a good laugh about his blackmail shot and a chuckle out of the feet shot. His letters were hilarious and full of great stories. A day I got a letter from Erick Lund was always a good day.

The summer of 2000, not long after graduation he called me to tell me he was coming out to Virginia for a visit. He had enlisted in the Army and would be heading to boot camp soon back east and wanted to visit his brother before he went. I distinctly  remember thinking he was crazy. "What?! Why?!" I blurted out. I know. So not supportive.  Enlisting was such a foreign concept to me. He explained it was in his blood. His brothers had done it, his dad had done it. It would pay for school and besides, things were peaceful at the time. He probably wouldn't even have to serve active duty in a war. I was still in shock but welcomed his visit. It was great to see him and we had a blast together visiting historic sites in Virginia and going to the theme park, Kings Dominion. I had to prove to him it was way better than Lagoon. :) He won over my little sister and parents in a heartbeat and he became like family.

His letters while in boot camp were positive, which I found remarkable. Boot camp is miserable! It's horrible. It's hard.. He often expressed his love for his country and how grateful he was to be a part of it in such an active way. When I went to college at BYU he was so interested in hearing what it was like and often reminded me how lucky I was to be going to such a great university. During fall semester he showed up at my dorm door with a box of Krispy Kreme donuts and a very short hair cut.  I shrieked with laughter. Partly out of excitement to see him, partly because Krispy Kreme donuts were a Richmond, VA delicacy that had just hit Utah and I hadn't gotten to eat one yet, but mostly because he had no idea he was committing a huge BYU no-no for coming to a girls dormitory at BYU not during "visiting hours." He was bewildered and confused as I was shooing him out of the hallway. Once outside I explained in between gasps of laughter that unless it was a a Sunday or Wednesday between 5-8pm, he was not allowed in the hallway of a ladies dorm. He thought it was the funniest thing in the world.

The following spring, just before the close of the semester, he told me he had received his mission call to Sweden and would be reporting in a few weeks. It wouldn't be long before I was back home in Virginia and he was off to Sweden, so I seized the day and drove up to Logan to visit Erick's stomping ground for the weekend. This was my first time up to Cache Valley and it was fun to finally see firsthand the beauty of the area he often referred to in his letters. I met some of his family members and we hung out with a group of his close high school friends. I could tell he was well-liked by all who knew him. His little sister Lynsi was the sweetest, prettiest thing you'd ever meet. It was fun to see him one last time before heading off to serve the Lord for 2 years. We pen-pal'ed it again, this time letters from continent to continent. Sweden is a difficult mission, but Erick was without fail upbeat, always sharing the ups and something hilarious to laugh at. My Dad also wrote Erick a time or two on his mission and lost some bet with him, so he had to mail him some cookies. Erick shared the loot with his district and promptly sent a picture of a dozen missionaries devouring my Dad's cookies.

Fast forward a few years later. I was living in Alexandria, VA at the time. Kyle was selling pest control and Cade was about 15 months old. It was just before my birthday. I received a phone call from my mom. Erick was serving in Iraq and his Humvee had been hit. Really, really bad. He was alive, but that was all she knew. Under my breath I silently scolded him for enlisting. Childish, I know. 9-11 had occurred while he was on his mission, shocking us all, taking away our days of peace. After being home a short while, he was off for active duty in Iraq. I silently prayed all would be well. I didn't hear anything new after that, so I assumed no news was good news.

When my little sister Rebecca was attending Utah State she called me to tell me she had run into Erick on campus. He was alive and well.  It was great news. [Funny side story of how small the world is: in Rebecca's anatomy class she saw slides  of what could go wrong during a bunionectomy. Coincidentally they were of Mandy's feet (Erick's wife). She almost had to have an amputation due to infection.  Rebecca and I stayed away from the idea of bunion surgery for many more years after that. Fortunately we fared better following our surgeries.]

Last summer while perusing Mormon Messages I discovered a familiar face. Erick and Mandy had been spotlighted (or is it spot-lit? hmmm). I shrieked with delight and couldn't wait to watch it. By the end I had tears streaming down my cheeks. I had no idea just what he and his wife had been through. They are incredible people.  

{the video is cut so that is seems like Erick enlisted in the army at 18 and shortly after met his wife-to-be Mandy. They left out that he served a mission for two years and THEN came home to Logan where he went to school where he met his bride. While I love a good young love soldier story, this makes them seem a little hasty and crazy to marry at 18. Had to clarify that.}

After watching the video I had to go down to my basement and dig through my photo albums to find it. The photo Erick had taken of our feet.  While at the time it was taken I thought it was silly, I had no idea the impact it would have on me so many years later. It remains a very real reminder of what we can so easily take for granted; what can so easily be lost; what it so often sacrificed, unnoticed and unappreciated.

I love how this video captures the childhood friend I remember. It is all so Erick. Now get yourself some tissues and enjoy.

Read this for a little more of Erick and Mandy's story. This is just one moving story of many who have sacrificed for our country. I am so grateful to all who have given their lives, their time, their limbs and their all so we can continue to have the freedoms we enjoy. 

To the spouses who hunker down while the soldier is away, my heart goes out to you. You have my utmost respect. You are in my prayers.

I'm so proud to be an American.

Happy Memorial Day.

Ketchup-- Derby Style.

It seems as of late that I tend take over the blog with selfish rants while noteworthy things are happening in each of my children's lives as well as Kyle's. I should stop being such an blog hog! Tonight I am attempting to do that. This post is dedicated to....

Cade and the Pinewood Derby

This was truly the highlight of Cade's cub scout career (at this point, he had been in for 6 whole weeks).  Kyle and Cade worked really hard on getting the car ready. I would come into the office to find Kyle and Cade watching youtube videos on building pinewood derby cars  and find "building your pinewood derby car" books around the house. Who knew this event was worthy of such diligent research?

Cade decided to name his car The White Stripes. For some reason, he has an affinity for the Airforce. He went to a football game some months ago where Airforce played Boise State. Airforce's "song" is played by this band The White Stripes. Therefore, Cade loves the song, and the band The White Stripes. Are you following?   Oh, and in case you were wondering, this paint job took at least 7 or 8 coats and about 3 weeks to get this way. {Whether it was on purpose or not...I'm not quite sure}

Kyle was so bummed that he would miss the event as he had to be in Northern Virginia for work. A few days before the pinewood derby was to take place, he called said something still needed to be done to the wheels. Something about graphite? I had no clue.  Cade really wanted Grandpa Sheppard to come for the event and boy did my Dad save the day. Not only did he put graphite on the wheels (he had some graphite!), but he ended up helping determine the close races by recording each of them with his video camera.

My father, being the astutely detailed-oriented guy took notice that the lanes of the pinewood derby track were not "equal" so to speak. He didn't say it to anyone, but after watching enough heats, he definitely noticed a trend happening in certain lanes. Cade was pleased to get first or second in just about every heat and considered the night a success. Grandpa Sheppard wasn't satisfied with those results (Cade tied for 3rd), so when he saw the top three cars do an impromptu race after the awards had been handed out, he had Cade's join in. His took, in my dad's words "a decisive second."

So there you go.

Yep, Kyle was proud when Grandpa informed him of the unofficial, official race. And then they spoke at length on what to do next year to tweak their design. I have to admit, it made me chuckle. I should know better though. Pinewood Derby events are a big deal.

Grandpa and Savvy

 Cade, eager for the races to begin!

Savvy passing the time by what she does best-- dancing.

Attempting to keep Ruby occupied. She grew bored of this book before the races even started. Alas!

Certificate!  Way to go Cade. THANKS SO MUCH Daddy/Grandpa Sheppard!!

If nothing else, I've got my pantry

It's hard not to consume myself with all the things I'm not doing, should be doing, need doing but have absolutely no idea how or when they will get done.

Every once in a while, amidst the craziness of managing our home and the kids, I have to step away from the to-do list and do something for myself to preserve my sanity.

Sometimes it's indulging in a row of Oreos with milk.

Other times it's gulping down a chapter of a delicious novel.

But usually it's reclaiming some space in the house that I can call my own little sanctuary.

Sometimes it's just a drawer, a file or a single kitchen cabinet.  

Sometimes it's a whole room. 

I know, I know. So totally not exciting. 

But it's really nice when the rest of the house is a disaster...{you know, dishes piled high in the sink, dried applesauce covering the counters, Cheerios all over the floor (thank you, Ruby), tooth paste splattered on the sink and mirror, toys, clothes, shoes and diapers littering the floors EVERY.WHERE!}....that I can walk to this door, open it, and say,

"Well, if nothing else, at least I've got my pantry."

I hate it when I feel water on the carpet

After a very lovely Evening of Excellence with the Young Women two Sundays ago {I brought Savvy to this one and she sat on the front row-- away from me -- and was quiet the entire time. The girl can't do this at home for more than 5 minutes. To say she was enthralled with all those teenage girls would be an understatement} I came home to a sleeping Ruby and a very happy Cade. He had gotten to play a never-ending game of Scrabble with Sammy, my lifesaver/sitter.

I tucked Cade in first, then down to the Basement for Sav. She insisted on sleeping in the guest room. It keeps her from getting up in the middle of the night and waking me up {why this is, I do not know, but seriously this girl has reverted to an infant the last 3 months, coming up with all sorts of excuses to rouse me from my sleep at 2am} so I didn't argue. As I walked into the room the carpet felt wet. Kind of like the way it feels if your kids walk on carpet after getting out of the shower or bath. I was about to scold (nicely, I hope anyway) Savvy for not drying off better before walking in the bedroom when I realized she showered in the morning. Not the evening.

I panicked.

Then I cringed, held my breath, and opened the utility room door, which is right next to the guest bedroom.

Yup.

Hot water leak. Awesome. I tucked Sav in, then tried calling our neighborhood handyman.  I mulled over it as the phone was ringing. The leak was probably about a day old. It wasn't fast. Nothing was gushing...this could wait until tomorrow....right? Aside from the cleanup that needed to be done that night of course. No answer from the handyman. So I called our awesome friend and neighbor down the street Adam for more contacts. He and his wife Annie know everyone. If you need something, they know someone. Adam gave me his reference and then headed over to just take a look to see if there was something he could do to help.

Mind you it is 10pm now on a Sunday night. Yes, Adam and Annie are pretty great friends.

{How convenient for me to have this snapshot of Adam. They went for a walk down to our house to return something and unbeknownst to me, took pictures of themselves with our camera the day after the water heater drama. What a lovely surprise!! ha ha!}

Adam assesses the situation and discovers the hot water heater itself is leaking (no pipes or anything that can be tightened...). Bummer. He gave me the peace of mind that wrapping the hot water heater in towels at the base will serve the purpose just fine and I could call it a night. In the morning he'd give me plumber recommendations.

To make a long story even longer, I quickly called my dad, who knows all things plumbing.  He recently installed his own hot water heater (tankless-ish one) after doing days of research on hot water heaters. We told him a few months ago that when our hot water heater went out, we'd be calling him for advice.  I wanted to give him the heads up that his advice would be needed sooner rather than later. About 5 minutes later, he e-mailed Kyle and I his top picks and I deferred the final decision to Kyle. My head hurt too much to make that kind of decision. I didn't really care how hot water got to our pipes.

The next morning our neighborhood handyman Mark showed up. Of course by then the hot water heater stopped leaking. Of course. It's like you being up all night with a coughing child and then take them to the dr in the morning only for your child to be perfectly chipper with no sign of a cough. Fortunately I had a mountain of wet towels as proof. He turned my hot water back on and said to go ahead and do life as usual and to watch it.

Relieved I could sort of get on with usual daily chores. After a few loads of laundry and running the dishwasher, the hot water leaked again. As if he were telepathically in tune to my water heater, Mark stopped by again to check on it. This time he saw the leaking with his own eyes.  Yep, time for a new water heater.

Moments later my dad calls to tell me he will come down later in the afternoon and get started on the hot water heater, which happens to be in stock at a place in Sandy. Wow. So sweet! I was thoroughly prepared to tough it out for a handful of days before he was available (or the hot water heater). I envisioned showering at the gym, bathing my kids at neighbors' homes or just hosing them down. I had plenty of baby wipes, too. Those are like the same thing as baths, right?

Not only was it so nice to have my dad come to the rescue so fast, it was just nice having another adult around. I forget what that's like. Even though he was in the basement and I was way upstairs, it was just nice.  In addition to finally getting to clean out the utility room (yes, it was out of necessity, but I've been wanting to do it for a while now) I learned a few handy plumbing terms. I have a completely new appreciation for all the critical thinking and planning that is involved with installing a new appliance. This was a big job.

While some days I may secretly dream about when my kids are grown... the reality is you are never done being a parent. If this isn't proof of that I don't know what is!

Yes, I will take dirty diapers over this any day!

So here she is in all her glory: 

 (since this photo was taken my dad has actually done a few more things to "pretty" it up. Some extra electrical work and a bit more black pipe to carry the gassy smelling fumes to the outside.)

Aint she purdy?  She holds 2 gallons of hot water in her and the rest she just does on-demand. No more running out of hot water on Sunday mornings when company is here! :)  {or no more running out of water all mornings after only I have showered!}

By Friday night I had a lot of laundry to fold....I almost wanted to cry but quickly reminded myself how lucky I was to have hot water.

My story isn't over yet. Remember Mark the handyman? Well he called me up and offered to take my old water heater to the dump. Um YES, please!  How nice.

So while this could have been a story of "Oh poor, poor Michelle. She had to deal with a flooded basement and installing a new hot water heater all by her lonesome," it really is an awesome story of the beauty of friendships and families and how blessed I am to know so many great people willing to lend a hand when it is needed.

Here's to hot water!