tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5645581197128773632024-02-07T03:08:08.305-05:00Adventures of a BMX MomKEEPING THE WHEELS TURNING, ONE RACE AT A TIME.bmxmomhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09163408990177860415noreply@blogger.comBlogger61125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-564558119712877363.post-78766572208711813352013-11-10T21:28:00.000-05:002013-11-10T21:28:35.961-05:00Florida BMX: The season beginsWhile tracks nationwide are winding down, Florida's season is just beginning. Yesterday we attended our first SSA race in two years. <i>What's the SSA?, </i>a California friend asked.<br />
<br />
Good question!<br />
<br />
SSA is short for Sunshine State BMX Association. State racing in Florida offers the most competitive scene outside of nationals. Nothing's better for a little Grands prep. The track and competition at Riverview did not disappoint. A fairly technical track, super fast starting hill, and 113 motos made it all worthwhile. Our friends in attendance, and the great announcing <i>(Pump pump! Pump pump!)</i> were added bonuses.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjlQBlOFJgOuVXNhghXpg6PMk9q_N6d2V69GgPzCfMJ8FdUVjG5d28sNjNWKka9Whi31i8JSf11tn4E0RuPODLtQVtHy4cQ-9QeqPRunXpDOGxJ_yFRub5auWNd0l9XThFNJTnZU2S2As/s1600/1425693_10201333700757829_2042550332_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjlQBlOFJgOuVXNhghXpg6PMk9q_N6d2V69GgPzCfMJ8FdUVjG5d28sNjNWKka9Whi31i8JSf11tn4E0RuPODLtQVtHy4cQ-9QeqPRunXpDOGxJ_yFRub5auWNd0l9XThFNJTnZU2S2As/s320/1425693_10201333700757829_2042550332_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The boys' team mate and friend Meredith Lidstone missed the race<br />because of work, but cut out just in time to watch mains.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
After a shaky weekend at the Disney Cup, we came to Riverview seeking reassurance. Both boys needed the competition this venue offered, and they both accomplished their missions. William, loving the fast starts on the steep hill, rode away with wins in both 12 cruiser and expert. He rode with confidence and determination, and never faltered.<br />
<br />
Wyatt, growing stronger each lap, had to go all three rounds in both 10 cruiser and expert. We watched as his third round of cruiser came and went, with no Wyatt. Immediately after, he came riding toward us, a distraught look on his little face. Somehow, even though he was standing in staging, he missed it. That was a first! We told him to shake it off and get ready for his final qualifier in 10x. He did, and he nailed it. When his main rolled around, you would have never known he had to go three rounds. He shot out of the gate like a bat out of hell, finishing a strong second.<br />
<br />
We gladly opted out of today's race, choosing instead the comforts of home. This morning, after a good night's sleep, Wyatt shared with us his discovery.<br />
<br />
"I've learned the secret to my success."<br />
<br />
"Oh? What's that?" I asked.<br />
<br />
"All I have to do is clear my mind, and then get really angry."<br />
<br />
Whatever works!<br />
<br />
See you in Tulsa,<br />
<br />
BMX Mom<br />
<br />
<br />bmxmomhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09163408990177860415noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-564558119712877363.post-37873130804568775462013-09-03T11:34:00.003-04:002013-09-03T11:43:27.813-04:00An Electrifying Weekend at the Derby City Nationals<i>"Genuis unrefined resembles a flash of lightning, but wisdom is like the sun."*</i><br />
<br />
"Where ya from Billy Bob Jim?"<br />
<br />
"Alaska. Fairbanks."<br />
<br />
I heard the small, familiar voice from across the pits. Cool as a cucumber, he looked like a minion relaxing in a yellow Dans Comp rain slicker. His friend and team mate Carly sat next to him, as he spun a tale for her aunts.<br />
<br />
"I'm 12, and extremely gifted. I've graduated and will be heading to college soon."<br />
<br />
At that, I intervened. "His name", I said, "is Wyatt! He's 10, from Florida, and in the 5th grade!"<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkmX-YanZIEgpvRv3feqmwxkzaeaKx2JQbgdL6ZUHcVta4lCwuFjH86EGBNAiybyQ1h9Vgp2-UYQzvngonia6Ku7NiYgXJIt3cM_LmY6hO_6P19y0tlI1GQCYUbLOP9JxkiVhvWvcjSxg/s1600/1170779_10200894498658051_2001581023_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkmX-YanZIEgpvRv3feqmwxkzaeaKx2JQbgdL6ZUHcVta4lCwuFjH86EGBNAiybyQ1h9Vgp2-UYQzvngonia6Ku7NiYgXJIt3cM_LmY6hO_6P19y0tlI1GQCYUbLOP9JxkiVhvWvcjSxg/s320/1170779_10200894498658051_2001581023_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Carly, Wyatt and William smiling through the rain.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Mildly surprised that he could spin such a tale, one auntie asked, "So, he hasn't graduated?"<br />
<br />
The first rain delay on day 2 of the Derby City Nationals clearly brought out my youngest child's creative nature.<br />
<br />
We all breathed a sigh of relief as the sun came out and the track was uncovered.<br />
<br />
Our sunshine didn't last long.<br />
<br />
As semis came to a close, the sky began flashing. Mains thundered on as the skies grew darker. Vann decided to walk with William to staging for his cruiser main.<br />
<br />
While Wyatt and I headed to the first straight to spectate, we couldn't help but overhear talk around us. No one could believe the race was continuing in the lightning. Rain is one thing, but I don't know of a sporting event that carries on in such conditions. I was pondering this when it happened. The sky suddenly cracked and my ears buzzed. Wyatt was faster than me, and ran for the tents with me on his heels. A sit rep was issued upon our arrival. Frightened faces told us it had struck just beyond the tents in front of us, splitting an unsuspecting tree.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgReKsvcKmPVPGTjJe5Qz-B-EvLNpqtEls2bcbuKdVCygrIbTvrp8pY17gMA7VcogXTAjd6R6cSsn0Ok9nYrZ9yqXdhkJ3Cp-_wSM4i9DHXLJM8lBSYVSEcLKyjSyWtLM4vU7rIs_GiBD4/s1600/1176337_10151697627507762_1798368771_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgReKsvcKmPVPGTjJe5Qz-B-EvLNpqtEls2bcbuKdVCygrIbTvrp8pY17gMA7VcogXTAjd6R6cSsn0Ok9nYrZ9yqXdhkJ3Cp-_wSM4i9DHXLJM8lBSYVSEcLKyjSyWtLM4vU7rIs_GiBD4/s320/1176337_10151697627507762_1798368771_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Photo credit: Mike Carruth</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
One of our older Felt riders had been warming up in the parking lot when the lightning struck. He felt the surge of electricity through his hand that rested lightly on his brake lever. I heard several accounts of buzzing ears and small jolts. As far as I know, no one was seriously injured, but it wasn't over yet.<br />
<br />
As the skies opened up, officials rushed to cover the track. Several riders, including William, were trapped under the staging tent, as the rain and lightning continued. Under the pits, it was standing room only as we huddled together in ankle deep muddy water.<br />
<br />
A brief video of our situation, compliments of Meredith Lidstone:<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<iframe frameborder="0" height="400" src="https://www.facebook.com/video/embed?video_id=466337363473961" width="226"></iframe></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
At last I saw Vann and William running towards us carrying William's cruiser. He quickly tossed it in the trailer, said it was time to make a break for it, grabbed up a petrified Wyatt, and the four of us ran.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
We made it to the car, soaked to the skin, but safe. At the hotel and finally dry, we were all too tired to eat.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
It was then I realized that I was livid. Our safety had been compromised. Had the race been postponed when the inevitable storm approached, when the first flashes were seen, we would have been safe away before lightning began striking within yards of us. </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
I combed the USABMX rulebook for anything concerning weather. This is all I found:</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: ArialMT; font-size: 8pt;"><br /></span></div>
<i>Once a race has begun, meaning the first gate of the first round of motos has dropped, the track operator, due to inclement weather or other extreme circumstances, may postpone that race.</i><br />
<div>
<i><br /></i></div>
<div>
That is ridiculously vague.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Here's what the <a href="http://www.lightningsafety.noaa.gov/sports.htm" target="_blank">National Weather Service</a> has to say about lightning during sporting events:</div>
<div>
<br />
<i>The National Weather Service recommends officials of organized sports have a lightning safety plan they follow without exception. The plan should give clear, specific safety guidelines to eliminate errors in judgment. <br /><br />In general, a significant lightning threat extends outward from the base of a thunderstorm cloud about 6 to 10 miles. Therefore, people should be in a safe place when a thunderstorm is 6 to 10 miles away. Also, a plan’s guidelines should account for the time it will take for everyone to get to safety. Here are some criteria that could be used to stop activities:</i><br />
<ul style="text-align: -webkit-auto;">
<li><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: small;"><strong>If you see lightning. </strong>The ability to see lightning varies depending on the time of day, weather conditions, and obstructions such as trees, mountains, etc. In clear air, and especially at night, lightning can be seen from storms more than 10 miles away provided that obstructions don’t limit the view of the thunderstorm.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: small;"><strong>If you hear thunder.</strong> Thunder can usually be heard for a distance of about 10 miles provided that there is no background noise. Traffic, wind, and precipitation may limit the ability to hear thunder to less than 10 miles. If you hear thunder, though, it’s a safe bet that the storm is within ten miles.</span></li>
</ul>
And then the kicker....<br />
<br />
<b><span style="font-size: large;"><i>No place OUTSIDE is safe in or near a thunderstorm. Stop what you are doing and get to a safe place immediately. Small outdoor buildings including dugouts, rain shelters, sheds, etc., are NOT SAFE.</i></span></b></div>
<div>
<br /></div>
To read more, visit <a href="http://www.lightningsafety.noaa.gov/sports.htm">http://www.lightningsafety.noaa.gov/sports.htm</a>.<br />
<br />
<b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">For the safety of all riders, their families, volunteers, and officials, I am urging USABMX to immediately address this issue, and implement strict safety guidelines in the event of inclement weather.</span></b><br />
<b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></b>
There were some things I saw and heard this weekend that prompted what I have to say next.<br />
THANK YOU, Carlos Perez for being a team manager and leader who cares more for his riders than winning a team sheet. While we are grateful for the support of our sponsors, it's the people on our team and leading our team that mean the most.<br />
<br />
See you all INDOORS at Disney!<br />
<br />
BMX Mom<br />
<div>
<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">*- Franz Grillparzer (Austrian poet)</span></div>
bmxmomhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09163408990177860415noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-564558119712877363.post-3418550224303048382013-07-29T14:54:00.000-04:002013-07-29T14:54:57.325-04:00Governess of Grub: trying to feed hungry, young athletesI can't wait for school to start, but not for the reasons you might think. In summertime I lose control; control over all things dietary.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEil1ILziGXj3YztxEg8JtV9vOOlLyM_S5W-rbrqFq-OASoO7au16R6KVdVvn9Zim8xtYIdgl7n3S-MzMz_M77zCk5W_7fM4VQWjteEVk1uLrVW7gY7Zdk4Kmp46v5fyfyj5OiPQuqKXA9E/s1600/bus.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEil1ILziGXj3YztxEg8JtV9vOOlLyM_S5W-rbrqFq-OASoO7au16R6KVdVvn9Zim8xtYIdgl7n3S-MzMz_M77zCk5W_7fM4VQWjteEVk1uLrVW7gY7Zdk4Kmp46v5fyfyj5OiPQuqKXA9E/s320/bus.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
The boys returned from <a href="http://www.ohiodreams.com/">Ohio Dreams</a> yesterday. Florida week is so much fun for them. They're even ok with the 15 hour bus ride, which includes no less than six stops at McDonald's. Call me crazy, but knowing my kids are eating at McDonald's gives me complete anxiety. If you really have to ask why, just read <i><a href="http://www.mnn.com/food/healthy-eating/stories/8-creepy-mystery-ingredients-in-fast-food">8 creepy mystery ingredients in fast food</a></i> for starters. I would rather have the option of packing them a small cooler loaded with enough fruit, nuts and turkey sandwiches to get them to Ohio. Heck, I'd do it for the whole bus!<br />
<br />
Wyatt will eat anything. William is my picky eater. It's not all his fault. He's allergic to eggs, and all shellfish-- the ultimate curse for a kid whose family hails from the Gulf Coast.<br />
<br />
Last year at camp, William sustained himself on Ramen noodles from the camp store. I had high hopes that he would eat the allegedly improved camp food this year. Alas, no. His choice of sustenance? Oreos and Twizzlers.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeErZ0U6tOGJrBd6xbaJ1jZNacLoJSmTwWGZgjmMGL9_JaHWYHNwpEYgixqF-T8W0YKQbs9aj7Xf28ZOtcRPhlH0KvJTd3bMmEHzMmQB41lr5RcZFR7kiUEIhobg-__Hplaaiu684tyxc/s1600/fruit.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeErZ0U6tOGJrBd6xbaJ1jZNacLoJSmTwWGZgjmMGL9_JaHWYHNwpEYgixqF-T8W0YKQbs9aj7Xf28ZOtcRPhlH0KvJTd3bMmEHzMmQB41lr5RcZFR7kiUEIhobg-__Hplaaiu684tyxc/s320/fruit.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Getting the boys started right today.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
In three short weeks, the start of school will be upon us, and I'll once again have strict control over food consumption. Turkey and lettuce sandwiches, fresh fruit, pretzels, and a cold water, with sometimes a chocolate milk mixed in, is their typical lunch. Sure, it would be easy to let them eat the lunch the school provides, but seriously, have you smelled that stuff? I wouldn't eat it, so why would I make them?<br />
<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" src="//www.youtube.com/embed/5bHGb6eoZPI" width="560"></iframe><br />
<br />
Peanut butter has always been a huge staple in our house. With a good balance of protein, fat and carbs, it's a high energy food that helps to keep us full. Recently, our <a href="http://www.bmxnews.com/2013/07/10-gross-out-foods-we-see-at-races/">favorite BMX News correspondent</a> shared some information that made me want to retch.<br />
<br />
"Apparently it is approved by the FDA on average of 30 insect fragments, <b>including rodent hair</b> per 100 grams of peanut butter." - from <i>10 Disgusting Fast Food Facts</i><br />
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
I've had the heebie jeebies, and can't help but think there's a rat in our jar of Jif, ever since I read this. When your creamy suddenly gets crunchy, what do you think you're crunching on? I've decided to go the au naturel route, and hope for the best.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPAMCx2Bkf9CzlObMCHY0YJqhbYQIR3YFxfUspCaivjkNr6lP6z-f0mJ7EYcFrrowFCc31MhjXFVzGuvv6FZg7r_02n88FGs0JR1v2jA3HI7gGslwSqNsfg0QFRzmOq1mI3k6uWx7FnDQ/s1600/photo.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPAMCx2Bkf9CzlObMCHY0YJqhbYQIR3YFxfUspCaivjkNr6lP6z-f0mJ7EYcFrrowFCc31MhjXFVzGuvv6FZg7r_02n88FGs0JR1v2jA3HI7gGslwSqNsfg0QFRzmOq1mI3k6uWx7FnDQ/s320/photo.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">It's gluten-free and GMO free, but is it rodent hair free?</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Sadly, I've come to the conclusion that, unless it's grown in our backyards, we don't really know what we're consuming. We can, however, maintain a certain level of control in what we offer to our kids. I'm no expert, but I do follow certain guidelines.<div>
<ul>
<li>We eat home cooked meals that don't come from a box.</li>
<li>I shop the perimeter of the grocery store with few exceptions.</li>
<li>Our house is always stocked with a variety of fruits for snacks.</li>
<li>If we have sweets, I almost always make them myself.</li>
<li>Sodas are for special occasions only, not for drinking around the house, or at a race.</li>
</ul>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
Our diets certainly aren't perfect, but I feel that Vann and I are doing our best to fuel our young athletes, and our best is getting better all the time!</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
Happy eating!</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
BMX Mom</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<br /></div>
bmxmomhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09163408990177860415noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-564558119712877363.post-14337459452728799712013-05-08T14:14:00.000-04:002013-05-08T14:14:17.721-04:00To Friendly Moms Everywhere<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>Moms should be friendly.</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>My mom is very friendly.</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>Friendly moms are great.</i></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">-a haiku by Wyatt Parker (May 2013)</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIZa5totZtP0V8_bHjcYagXtZpCRIWB6MQrLy7DQoznM5brIHJhyphenhyphenoqjGMmuDVIoVOIFco8vNjWM_fZASWVF65G35h-Vxa-kjYozuCZANilZqCKYUtr-BVEpVHsLSNn9j61LDxg6_7A6dk/s1600/mothersday005.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIZa5totZtP0V8_bHjcYagXtZpCRIWB6MQrLy7DQoznM5brIHJhyphenhyphenoqjGMmuDVIoVOIFco8vNjWM_fZASWVF65G35h-Vxa-kjYozuCZANilZqCKYUtr-BVEpVHsLSNn9j61LDxg6_7A6dk/s320/mothersday005.jpg" width="232" /></a></div>
BMX moms are a different breed. We've traded our Mother's Day mimosas and freshly corsaged sundresses for energy drinks and moto boards. Mother's Day 2012 was celebrated in Powder Springs, Georgia. Standing in the mud, as the rain poured down, my friend Ellen cracked her car window. "Happy Mother's Day", she uttered quickly, and rolled the window back up. We left before the announcement was made that the race would be cancelled, not wanting to risk an injury a week before <a href="http://adventuresofabmxmom.blogspot.com/2012/05/england-swings-part-i-of-2012-bmx-world.html">England</a>. On Mother's Day, there was no place I'd have rather been than with my boys, even in the rain.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
This Mother's Day, we'll spend at the Tarheel Nationals in Charlotte. I'll be surrounded by some of my favorite BMX moms. There will be hugs and laughter, wounds to mend, and food to fix.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiisYPaO-NALORCb3WYUL1yvIW9z6FtH1KyDncM34_kPDo5V1ZYRUWB2MNwJQW3iOP4-UvfYBaysL0QGUmesXtESW3cyq08nWe_GIvgihaBg2elEr9ozDCiGOQW01cEM283VX5Mkfhz9Lw/s1600/578410_10200776294238596_229025820_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiisYPaO-NALORCb3WYUL1yvIW9z6FtH1KyDncM34_kPDo5V1ZYRUWB2MNwJQW3iOP4-UvfYBaysL0QGUmesXtESW3cyq08nWe_GIvgihaBg2elEr9ozDCiGOQW01cEM283VX5Mkfhz9Lw/s320/578410_10200776294238596_229025820_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Me with some of my favorite moms!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Whoever thinks Mother's Day is about spa treatments, champagne brunch and afternoon naps, is sorely mistaken. It's about the kids, and that's all there is to it. I can still recall my sister complaining to my mom on a Mother's Day more than thirty years ago. "Why do we have to have Mother's Day anyway? Why isn't there a Kid's Day?" My mom responded with a long drawn-out sigh. <i>Everyday is Kid's Day, Wendy Ann.</i></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
Moms don't get the appreciation they deserve, but that's part of it. Just remember, we're in this together!</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
So, here's to you, ladies!</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
Here's to you, Julianne, for endlessly driving all night to get to the next race, not just your kids, but everyone else's too.</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9rei8gm5hvzrNiVOjMnSoQN3OZimkHvRSie3MdNvYZBBUEk6lXM57lbO9ydD1mr7JyLmjYS6JxPlvKbopSd-r-1jU3rzMICNFkMY1ibEb9anSTbOCc0dZ9h742YvtHfAVxmY3gdHjJJ4/s1600/551989_592112557466631_291504520_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9rei8gm5hvzrNiVOjMnSoQN3OZimkHvRSie3MdNvYZBBUEk6lXM57lbO9ydD1mr7JyLmjYS6JxPlvKbopSd-r-1jU3rzMICNFkMY1ibEb9anSTbOCc0dZ9h742YvtHfAVxmY3gdHjJJ4/s320/551989_592112557466631_291504520_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
Here's to you, Ellen and Pam for being my entertainment, confidantes and pick-me-ups during a long day. </div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
Here's to you, Mady and Josette, mothers and caregivers to us all.</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjf_X6hVL6fQXEP3u5JfO1g_15YUJdd27SXZrEkUbFSbwQNSl86ZqGG0HTAc9pp4PQ6fGj4Cif6Lhv1kRJ5prfuk9yqwFf9CEF65RFtD1Z-Pgr4oFgpofI1LuPBmI6kSvxMYMb_HOdz2xw/s1600/200319_1877103096552_1510484339_32042677_8211734_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjf_X6hVL6fQXEP3u5JfO1g_15YUJdd27SXZrEkUbFSbwQNSl86ZqGG0HTAc9pp4PQ6fGj4Cif6Lhv1kRJ5prfuk9yqwFf9CEF65RFtD1Z-Pgr4oFgpofI1LuPBmI6kSvxMYMb_HOdz2xw/s320/200319_1877103096552_1510484339_32042677_8211734_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
Here's to you Misty and Kristy, two lovely BMX moms who don't know each other, but who are so much alike with your inner beauty and love for animals.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
Here's to you Meredith and Karen, mothers to dogs and cats, who don't need children to be nurturing.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
Here's to you, Christine, who is stronger than us all.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
Here's to my mom, Mignon, who without, I would be nothing.</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpoq98AGER2iaZ2BavPr5chhaYBStz3YiS3Biqyk_S7fwNRQN7oHT3WZuGYBMR0XjwgndBKwo2JXEWPsDivaWQJWrEN-H5xpoLPSMekDqoF3dQQhCJma2vqm-_zTf3LvIuUF3wTrgTLgY/s1600/photo.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpoq98AGER2iaZ2BavPr5chhaYBStz3YiS3Biqyk_S7fwNRQN7oHT3WZuGYBMR0XjwgndBKwo2JXEWPsDivaWQJWrEN-H5xpoLPSMekDqoF3dQQhCJma2vqm-_zTf3LvIuUF3wTrgTLgY/s320/photo.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
Here's to you, Vann, for making me who I am.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
A mom.</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
Happy Mother's Day!</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
BMX Mom</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
bmxmomhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09163408990177860415noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-564558119712877363.post-32439855369535553152013-05-02T12:34:00.000-04:002013-05-02T12:38:18.406-04:00Oh, Brother!More than ten years gone, I still remember the feel of the cold, smoothness on my belly in the ultrasound room. Twenty weeks along with my second child, I stared anxiously at the screen as it searched...<br />
<br />
The probe came to a stop as the tech said with casual certainty, "It's a boy".<br />
<br />
I sobbed.<br />
<br />
The tech, with a look that said <i>here we go again</i>, summoned some empathy. "Oh, you wanted a girl?"<br />
<br />
I looked at her, confused at first, but as realization dawned, I shook my head and smiled. My tears were of joy.<br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.wendyrodrigue.com/">My sister</a> and I grew up the worst of friends and the best of friends. I was her pest, and she was my idol. When William was born, I wanted him to have the same. I wanted him to have a best friend and a pest. I wanted him to have a brother.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCisiEkuICA0yMZ5qse4ue5E0vJ8q4jAI6Ozl_mHE3l9cmodHXvjZiXbycsloMfvLo084qKQ7UVeOIfzYYABmD9Lw3OYIS6Zcd7cJtRHzj0IXPacAElwqzxGfBLlqitiNxjt-UIG4_EYw/s1600/P5210002.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCisiEkuICA0yMZ5qse4ue5E0vJ8q4jAI6Ozl_mHE3l9cmodHXvjZiXbycsloMfvLo084qKQ7UVeOIfzYYABmD9Lw3OYIS6Zcd7cJtRHzj0IXPacAElwqzxGfBLlqitiNxjt-UIG4_EYw/s320/P5210002.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
I realize I might catch some heat for this. Of course I know brother-sister relationships can be wonderful and meaningful, but they're different, and we all seem to get what works best in our own lives.</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
That day in the ultrasound room, little did I know how different my two boys would be. Polar opposites, in fact. <i>Mr. Brown-Eyed Business meets Mr. Blonde Comedian.</i></div>
<div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<i><br /></i></div>
<div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
In the past ten years, Wyatt has led a life in a shadow of hand-me-downs and sibling achievements. He's been his brother's rock, never wavering from his side, even if he gets rolled under the bus.</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8Y2aANIyNZrM4YpdlnCsG1kVZFFAprY6ExH4azezEp-VOdHUXCZ0V72PSwqmdwN0yZE5odqcoUVVx6n4fpusxuY-dRDPlBRw52UN8RWTW28d6bRHFR49dnf8j9PCwnKwQo4k4zPVu8iU/s1600/PA210031_2.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8Y2aANIyNZrM4YpdlnCsG1kVZFFAprY6ExH4azezEp-VOdHUXCZ0V72PSwqmdwN0yZE5odqcoUVVx6n4fpusxuY-dRDPlBRw52UN8RWTW28d6bRHFR49dnf8j9PCwnKwQo4k4zPVu8iU/s320/PA210031_2.JPG" width="281" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
This past year, however, Wyatt has blossomed. His talents shining through to the extent that <a href="http://www.pattyfriedmann.com/">a friend</a> dubbed him "Renaissance Boy". Between tickling the ivories, exploring photography, and achieving "gold" status in swim, we wondered what would happen with BMX.</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
Wyatt moved up to the expert class this past February in Louisville, after achieving his 4th and 5th national wins. Any BMX parent understands the struggle that follows.</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
Our spring has been crazy, attending nationals in Tampa, Dallas, Atlanta and Monroe. While William has chalked up at least one win a weekend, Wyatt has faltered and missed mains, his frustration peaking in Atlanta. "I'm sick and tired of losing!" Hearing that from your child, and seeing his pain, knowing that he is at a crossroads, is quite a helpless feeling.</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
Fortunately, Wyatt had someone to pick him up. His best friend. His brother.</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiwBj8g9ZtQv-muQfiofP7bso8v6dDVmH3AsV_7ClEEQO3bcZTD5nNTPruX5gFzDDg4UiKM2dhFW9P_4PZyIPM-vIVDiWE1fIlBmtgUSg2NFPIN7voOA76VNhdupDkNM79X7EEO_3-nos/s1600/545987_447618895320474_161854927_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiwBj8g9ZtQv-muQfiofP7bso8v6dDVmH3AsV_7ClEEQO3bcZTD5nNTPruX5gFzDDg4UiKM2dhFW9P_4PZyIPM-vIVDiWE1fIlBmtgUSg2NFPIN7voOA76VNhdupDkNM79X7EEO_3-nos/s320/545987_447618895320474_161854927_n.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
Wyatt made a decision, and William was bound and determined to help him. He would train, and train hard. It didn't matter if he had already swam 1400 meters, he would do sprints. He would train day in and day out until Monroe.</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
The Cajun Nationals arrived, and Wyatt made his mains in 9x both days, accomplishing more than he thought he could. The biggest surprise came too! Wyatt was invited to join his brother on <a href="https://www.facebook.com/FeltFactoryBmxRaceTeam?fref=ts">Factory Felt</a>. William has even offered to let Wyatt wear his jersey in Charlotte if his isn't ready yet.</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
At twilight yesterday I heard the <i>click click click</i> of the jump rope skipping on the driveway. William's voice boomed, "Push-ups! Go!" as Wyatt hit the ground. Later I found the work out William had made for his brother.</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNX0lScVujVZfBnu_UCC11iaRIBQKl_A5WKxbnPNotBtXoRGs7kwffMZv6o0xZxp5pnG98fqculGN3V-3TY9FoVmHM3q88fjgfryl-HFWYgaxk5FgVal5wB28AULKQQQrkYBcFW-dVcEY/s1600/photo.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNX0lScVujVZfBnu_UCC11iaRIBQKl_A5WKxbnPNotBtXoRGs7kwffMZv6o0xZxp5pnG98fqculGN3V-3TY9FoVmHM3q88fjgfryl-HFWYgaxk5FgVal5wB28AULKQQQrkYBcFW-dVcEY/s320/photo.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
I thought about that day in the ultrasound room. I hope it's like this always. I hope they will always be there for each other.</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
BMX Mom</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<br />bmxmomhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09163408990177860415noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-564558119712877363.post-55783313717589439182013-03-18T12:22:00.001-04:002013-03-18T12:22:36.115-04:00Magic PeopleIf we are lucky, a person comes into our lives to guide and teach us. Not in the way of a parent, sibling or child, but someone more unexpected. Someone who's there because chance led them. If we are even luckier, we recognize that person, and know they are magic.<br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0IFmaTTz4jPjGAwucWsOvPc998kOGcKVCTZAQG-mHHlfEWVoZaK84tQaAePXF6lUNwKrpyH0QYEnmIHSWA-4XQVSUCbySDkoz8e3zpCtobaWhIhUUU0cEzpoV0ZfkBLjCw3xzVdvMWA4/s1600/parrotjungle.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="299" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0IFmaTTz4jPjGAwucWsOvPc998kOGcKVCTZAQG-mHHlfEWVoZaK84tQaAePXF6lUNwKrpyH0QYEnmIHSWA-4XQVSUCbySDkoz8e3zpCtobaWhIhUUU0cEzpoV0ZfkBLjCw3xzVdvMWA4/s320/parrotjungle.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Aunt Kathy helping me reach a parrot, <br />
with her daughter Jennifer, and my sister Wendy.<br />
Parrot Jungle 1976</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
A good bit of my childhood summers were spent at my Papa's South Florida home. Everyday the pool water churned, full of my cousins - kids ranging in age from three to thirty-three. Rowdy as we were, it was easy for a small child to get left behind when the call rang out that it was time to dress for dinner. One particular day, after everyone had scattered to their showers, my Aunt Kathy returned to the pool, most likely to gather wet towels and empty soda cans. A shadow on the bottom caught her eye and she dove in without a thought. She dragged me up and brought me around. I don't remember this. I only have the story she told me, but surely this was when Aunt Kathy became my magic person.<br />
<br />
During my teenaged years, Aunt Kathy, Uncle Lynn, and my cousins Jennifer and Chris would often visit my dad's house on the water in Ft. Walton Beach, where we would swim, tube and ski all day, and barbecue and play cards all night.<br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAS570DOGMhl06vLm6jTHGemapqPt0e8TxQqlNYNGi9dOPDETypD4XSzNE5lQj81SXgbidEpNvvreXFudwP2eWgmac_wiHuQgdosN749-O-pBFLzepooiD8mlnBcHLxIseJZ-BR_F8tT4/s1600/2574378208_8301708ea2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAS570DOGMhl06vLm6jTHGemapqPt0e8TxQqlNYNGi9dOPDETypD4XSzNE5lQj81SXgbidEpNvvreXFudwP2eWgmac_wiHuQgdosN749-O-pBFLzepooiD8mlnBcHLxIseJZ-BR_F8tT4/s320/2574378208_8301708ea2.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Billy Bowlegs boat parade heads through Santa Rosa Sound.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
It was tradition in our family to participate in the annual Billy Bowlegs boat parade, but some years there were too many of us to fit on the boat, so Aunt Kathy and I would volunteer to stay behind. As the others, decked out in pirate attire, left on the boat to join the parade, we decided to take the long swim across the Sound to watch from a sandbar. To make our swim easier, we perched a box of wine atop a yellow raft, and carried it along with us. We laughed and squealed when something slimy brushed our legs, and struggled to keep our wine afloat in the wake of passing boats. We made it to the sandbar as the first pirate ships were passing. As their cannons blasted, we talked and laughed, and drank salt water tinged white zin from the box. My mom wouldn't of approved.<br />
<br />
During that time of my life, as a wild teen who never quite lived up to expectations, I felt judged by most adults. But not by Aunt Kathy. She made me feel like I would be ok. That I <i>was </i>ok.<br />
<br />
By observing my Aunt Kathy and Uncle Lynn, I learned that marriage could be happy. They spoke to one another with love and kindness. They never screamed, and were never condescending. If hurt or angry, they forgave, because no one is perfect. This was a lesson I couldn't find in my own home, and one I needed desperately.<br />
<br />
When I did marry, Vann grew to love Aunt Kathy too, seeing her magic as I did. When Aunt Kathy and Uncle Lynn would visit, they'd bring us plants from their garden. We'd eat crabs, grill steaks, and play cards all night.<br />
<br />
In the midst of my young marriage, Aunt Kathy was diagnosed with ovarian cancer. At the time, I didn't think much about it. In our late 20s, busy having babies, we had other things to think about.<br />
<br />
Life continued much as usual. Aunt Kathy and Uncle Lynn had their own grandchildren, and began new traditions, each year taking them to the mountains in the fall, and the beach in the summer. Aunt Kathy would occasionally fall ill, but always carried on. She enjoyed her job and her zumba class, doing everything in her power to keep going and stay healthy. She didn't want to miss a thing.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyJ669dnE3q_v4SfMNA-wW8kQlk9pMDLaOGLfinrDcyBItW_sqDTqDjCSU8KEHa3yET6T0xV3UBUT8dAzYqaq8_lRmoyttqWY2cxD8hyoIgcmeSUC5T35Xsc5POvEc6TyBKblHAPq46H8/s1600/P3260036.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyJ669dnE3q_v4SfMNA-wW8kQlk9pMDLaOGLfinrDcyBItW_sqDTqDjCSU8KEHa3yET6T0xV3UBUT8dAzYqaq8_lRmoyttqWY2cxD8hyoIgcmeSUC5T35Xsc5POvEc6TyBKblHAPq46H8/s320/P3260036.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Aunt Kathy on the trampoline with her grandsons and grand nephews<br />
Easter 2005</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
After I lost my mom, Aunt Kathy helped fill the hole in my heart. She and Uncle Lynn were always there for Vann and me, and our boys, loving them as their own. Their love and support was endless, and several times they travelled to watch the boys race. They joined us in Louisville for NBL Grands the year William won a title, their very presence calming our nerves and bringing us joy.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDaPAqKq_AjsRXk0nKWPrxDkDP1OnqEZbLAS8AnnrjAuZ6ryUz8WXsZ7e9-s-sHSFr_YXUfMWrIf_zo_wxX8p0giFaAulVKfPKN-BkatX3JLzGrxFoMYysFAP-5dbkJnSYNPCrn9osHSc/s1600/DSCN3015.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDaPAqKq_AjsRXk0nKWPrxDkDP1OnqEZbLAS8AnnrjAuZ6ryUz8WXsZ7e9-s-sHSFr_YXUfMWrIf_zo_wxX8p0giFaAulVKfPKN-BkatX3JLzGrxFoMYysFAP-5dbkJnSYNPCrn9osHSc/s320/DSCN3015.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Aunt Kathy and me, Louisville 2009</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
</div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLTW6-iUFpVJBOQ_uHSEz6CFQNt1DkStkphvIPZWIUPEadmcMvmN-t6K1H2S8e89FZzPsqb3hI2oqYK-JJ9MXsQjLAQMVIad_ljmynORn6xSovPlXbVy1gS5Y7_Dx9AEU2dL8P7tQ4O0U/s1600/521358_3636479225458_1047052766_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLTW6-iUFpVJBOQ_uHSEz6CFQNt1DkStkphvIPZWIUPEadmcMvmN-t6K1H2S8e89FZzPsqb3hI2oqYK-JJ9MXsQjLAQMVIad_ljmynORn6xSovPlXbVy1gS5Y7_Dx9AEU2dL8P7tQ4O0U/s320/521358_3636479225458_1047052766_n.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Cape San Blas, 2012</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Last summer our families spent a wild week at the beach together, treasuring each moment of life. Aunt Kathy soaked up every laugh and every smile, with the people she loved. If she was in pain, she never once complained, as her young grandchildren climbed in her lap.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEOiA3XHt-yfWyTkFfrBnKW3zAl-2iikpkxhdHKCgBNmBpRVZswiP-tTKimXYD62-_ysaOMqsFHaZXdo9G-d7xIai6cZEJT9fJS27XIIKjDVp11h9SX2tI1rsA4y2CUsTK4oHkewlIP2g/s1600/photo.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjEOiA3XHt-yfWyTkFfrBnKW3zAl-2iikpkxhdHKCgBNmBpRVZswiP-tTKimXYD62-_ysaOMqsFHaZXdo9G-d7xIai6cZEJT9fJS27XIIKjDVp11h9SX2tI1rsA4y2CUsTK4oHkewlIP2g/s320/photo.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Aunt Kathy and Wyatt<br />
Cape San Blas, 2012</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
Even as her body began to fail, she never wanted to give up her fight. Last week, however, it all became too much. She told her family and friends goodbye, and made my uncle promise to continue the traditions they began. Last night, her pain ended, and she is at peace. When I spoke with Uncle Lynn he said, "don't forget me, I'm still here." <i>How could I ever?</i></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<i><br /></i></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
No one ever has shown me such strength and love. As her spirit flies away, her magic remains in my heart.</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXSiedQhjJiarPbaTUwRcfGYZLcBe9ICeBZOLhjQBfGidiUSVuK2akrNmnvU-gjHVeFa574jvrfobfROdoFUsP7ihd8WCCkkTn-_RZD4HW4A9hPXfUjdYYF93C0BZZr4ojzZZBvCqYV30/s1600/auntkathy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXSiedQhjJiarPbaTUwRcfGYZLcBe9ICeBZOLhjQBfGidiUSVuK2akrNmnvU-gjHVeFa574jvrfobfROdoFUsP7ihd8WCCkkTn-_RZD4HW4A9hPXfUjdYYF93C0BZZr4ojzZZBvCqYV30/s320/auntkathy.jpg" width="211" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
BMX Mom</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
bmxmomhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09163408990177860415noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-564558119712877363.post-46242441230085360672013-01-15T18:41:00.000-05:002013-01-15T18:41:04.030-05:00Training's Unexpected Silver LiningDecember was a month of rest, sprinkled with holiday merriment, while the bikes collected dust in our shed. The BMX break gave me time to hover over the piano as Wyatt prepared for his big recital, and spend hours baking pecan sandies, peanut blossoms, and tea cakes that disappeared faster than I could roll out the dough.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPJimvwrvwn7Gt3suaUHH03YrMY3NFY-fVl2NKMhnwLjtCbKK_5wtmHMfjxY4-oFsxWl9S2MetTFMnLgV7I2BIujf4jbREDn_ZnBwR6trBaF00GfpoFBSFZDJ8kl3-Ph4vvpbPxwa5ZNo/s1600/547372_573366712679200_201279645_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="186" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPJimvwrvwn7Gt3suaUHH03YrMY3NFY-fVl2NKMhnwLjtCbKK_5wtmHMfjxY4-oFsxWl9S2MetTFMnLgV7I2BIujf4jbREDn_ZnBwR6trBaF00GfpoFBSFZDJ8kl3-Ph4vvpbPxwa5ZNo/s320/547372_573366712679200_201279645_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Wyatt performs on the <a href="http://www.rodriguesteinway.com/">Rodrigue Steinway</a><br />Photo credit: Elizabeth Janke</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
A long time ago, I was somehow designated the one in charge of training. This sounds easy, but really it's a big commitment. Find the program, implement the program, nag the kids, train two boys who are on completely different levels...<i> Good times! </i>Since Wyatt has taken such an interest in swim, BMX training has whittled down to one. December 31st, William's new regimen began, with mom at the helm.<br />
<br />
Like any mom of a middle school aged son, I fear the day that I'm no longer cool to hang out with, and my words are no longer wise. Answers to questions become vague and repetitive...How was your day? <i>Same as yesterday</i>.<br />
<br />
As our first week of training came to a close, I realized something. My son and I talked more that week than we had the entire month of December. For ninety minutes, six days a week, he's mine.<br />
<br />
Between sprints I hear all sorts of plans: <i>Dad said Wyatt and I can build a pump track in the yard this summer! </i>I might hear about new bike parts:<i> I'm doing away with the red. I'm going all silver... What do you think? </i>He has grand ideas too: <i>Wouldn't it be cool if I could go to school with all of my BMX friends? </i><br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjesyUZTPzJrJeQyMzEktrqPKziK2Y7eRIwhSCZIygzmrnvn1eTNpsfkIh7hCGXzR48DMiELa6s4DVF6ASP9VwCuHnK1d-WULjnTSQjU0vxnFTiR2mlriiY8q2C2rFirEQzMYUJ_N6_S_c/s1600/photo.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjesyUZTPzJrJeQyMzEktrqPKziK2Y7eRIwhSCZIygzmrnvn1eTNpsfkIh7hCGXzR48DMiELa6s4DVF6ASP9VwCuHnK1d-WULjnTSQjU0vxnFTiR2mlriiY8q2C2rFirEQzMYUJ_N6_S_c/s320/photo.JPG" width="240" /></a><br />
My favorite training day is when we head to Doak Campbell, home of the Florida State Seminoles. There, it's just my son and me, with the ghosts of sweat, fear and hope laying heavy in the air. As he climbs repeatedly to the top, I watch his legs tremble, and I know he's giving it all he's got.<br />
<br />
Some mornings, I drag William out of bed early to train before school. These are the times I have to get ugly. <i>I thought you said you could do pull-ups! What do you call those? Give me five more! That's IT! I'm DONE!</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
Then a tired voice says, "Wait Mom!"<br />
<br />
I finish with the same speech every time...<br />
<br />
<i>Do you think I'm out here for MY benefit??</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
Well, maybe I am.<br />
<br />
<br />
Happy BMX New Year!<br />
<br />
BMX Mombmxmomhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09163408990177860415noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-564558119712877363.post-23510164281007427062012-12-01T22:19:00.000-05:002012-12-01T22:19:51.161-05:00The Felt Family<i>"I will cherish all the friendship I was fortunate to find, all the love and all the laughter in the place I leave behind."*</i><br />
<br />
I had this post composed in my head last night. It was a story of laughter and fun, of team commitments, and true friendships.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqexwsASkdWSdxRXsjJ8krOiNQ4T4UuAREvWtnu8F_P_guonSqvjzTDeuC6k1QAhjC7OMRI8oOdmQiloECVM_71DFHxicf3NJ-6RtonYO4g4n6t_ouCKe-lVuKrBP2Mp0K0jWskKJEvkg/s1600/396728_449254901788297_588801388_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqexwsASkdWSdxRXsjJ8krOiNQ4T4UuAREvWtnu8F_P_guonSqvjzTDeuC6k1QAhjC7OMRI8oOdmQiloECVM_71DFHxicf3NJ-6RtonYO4g4n6t_ouCKe-lVuKrBP2Mp0K0jWskKJEvkg/s320/396728_449254901788297_588801388_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Felt Family</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
There's something extraordinary about this team-- this group of people we refer to as "family". There's a bond that forms when you share emotions; the hope and love for your children, shared excitement and shared tears. Last weekend we cheered in the stands as one, wanting the best for all of our riders. We all know what it feels like when our child doesn't make the main, so we all know what to say, how to help, and when to hug. We're like a small, perfect village. What could ever go wrong?<br />
<br />
Like any family, the Felt family has a leader, the bearer of news good and bad. It was too early for Carlos to call this morning. It wasn't right. Part of our family is gone, he said, a good friend, a <i>Dad</i>.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjl8ya_-31Bf_b35gzD3qKE7dzCDIlVHD_Uxa4bH3MtPvROdSFrFn6jjRB57fpwQ1TD15fuK4Z6XAIKLJ9_b8xxc1TA-2nP2kiQLukISc_wt3H4QZah9sz8LpR4raMxUuwBCyTz4DAVE4c/s1600/76396_449254975121623_1985956212_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjl8ya_-31Bf_b35gzD3qKE7dzCDIlVHD_Uxa4bH3MtPvROdSFrFn6jjRB57fpwQ1TD15fuK4Z6XAIKLJ9_b8xxc1TA-2nP2kiQLukISc_wt3H4QZah9sz8LpR4raMxUuwBCyTz4DAVE4c/s320/76396_449254975121623_1985956212_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Felt Dads</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
The Felt boys had a blast in Tulsa. They are brothers. The older ones look out for the younger ones. They are different, but so much the same.<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyyltx7fssBKKoKhH08DaYOqlZjZ2SLKvyLw_-lGNmNxFPeWICltEyJfM95GJKAhlJXU4zZLsEguIK5TsmTY7UZcKhH9LsGUES4oVG730SeTJqcFPY5WKW224OEg8pyvDPdnc3RT3M9c0/s1600/59062_449255588454895_1478949250_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyyltx7fssBKKoKhH08DaYOqlZjZ2SLKvyLw_-lGNmNxFPeWICltEyJfM95GJKAhlJXU4zZLsEguIK5TsmTY7UZcKhH9LsGUES4oVG730SeTJqcFPY5WKW224OEg8pyvDPdnc3RT3M9c0/s320/59062_449255588454895_1478949250_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Pure innocence!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div>
<br />They find themselves now on new ground. They don't understand this loss, but they understand their teammate, their friend, their <i>brothe</i>r, and his sister are now suffering.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXm-jBn4kwoLu9EItyaFt5cW8RHwZCzQEtodRokUW9p9INwwl4jZb15EhH4107KlIQGYNfnl12bdJuVJ_nuWrGall95bvomVBLSRXPvK_8bkmvISB-IlE2L5lb9ei3VUqd8LH39151-w4/s1600/73590_4524946973183_1915211041_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXm-jBn4kwoLu9EItyaFt5cW8RHwZCzQEtodRokUW9p9INwwl4jZb15EhH4107KlIQGYNfnl12bdJuVJ_nuWrGall95bvomVBLSRXPvK_8bkmvISB-IlE2L5lb9ei3VUqd8LH39151-w4/s320/73590_4524946973183_1915211041_n.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggN7TkaZvFhROyCKnmFB8JxfDfplsHcYt0TRLJJQo46tu42V6z9ySJ-TUZ2OPKFp0_FRPsGzTFVOmM2AipzImKnBXjEW04dbJ5ijQg39xU8GFBphz1YZPMBNTie8zcVdcolpd0d2qIMEE/s1600/73809_4922860478583_929293490_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggN7TkaZvFhROyCKnmFB8JxfDfplsHcYt0TRLJJQo46tu42V6z9ySJ-TUZ2OPKFp0_FRPsGzTFVOmM2AipzImKnBXjEW04dbJ5ijQg39xU8GFBphz1YZPMBNTie8zcVdcolpd0d2qIMEE/s320/73809_4922860478583_929293490_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<i>"All these good things will go with me. They will make my spirit glow. And that light will shine forever in the next place that I go."*</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
Our hearts go out to the Hatems.<br />
<br />
BMX Mom<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
*From "The Next Place", by Warren Hanson<br />
<i><br /></i>
<i><br /></i></div>
bmxmomhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09163408990177860415noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-564558119712877363.post-23829195102218689752012-11-16T13:07:00.000-05:002012-11-16T13:07:57.713-05:00Heading to Grands Calm, Cool and Collected<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">You need to grab a hold of that line between speed and chaos, and you need to wrestle it to the ground like a demon cobra! And then, when the fear rises up in your belly, you use it. And you know that fear is powerful, because it has been there for billions of years. And it is good.</span>*</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<div>
<i></i><br /><i></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 18px;"></span>
It started last night. The sleeplessness. For most nationals I'm only afflicted with insomnia once we actually arrive at the hotel. Then come the common exchanges between BMX moms: <i>Did you bring your Benadryl? Your Tylenol PM? Ask for a room away from the ice machine</i>.<i>..Did you hear those people in the hall at 2am? I went out in my pjs and told them to scram... </i>And, most recently from my friend and fellow Felt mom Ellen, "Should we make spa appointments?" <i>Absolutely!</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbzGSoy8Gtq3BLn76eq0iPMyQp4S4gMdzfdQmdOZJpPC__D9NpO8Mt630iE7HKcQJKSpllSCEIySuv3SQo0CfWGUmOHyUWDRgNAHLCn3VeknWJuza_Zs9zYfTYyBpV0Q-1cuYi4wf3qII/s1600/photo.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbzGSoy8Gtq3BLn76eq0iPMyQp4S4gMdzfdQmdOZJpPC__D9NpO8Mt630iE7HKcQJKSpllSCEIySuv3SQo0CfWGUmOHyUWDRgNAHLCn3VeknWJuza_Zs9zYfTYyBpV0Q-1cuYi4wf3qII/s320/photo.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I want all of their dreams to come true. What mom wouldn't?</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<i></i><br /><i></i>
November 22-25 is GRANDS. This is what the boys work for all year. It was yesterday while watching William do his sprints that the nerves kicked in. It seems that I need to start my earplug/sleep mask/ Benadryl regimen a bit early.<br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwl1QQnCqEJI3npKuaIijmz1fPTN-bJMhXKh3J-1dt603rt4yNZzw_vwnZ94SVFODaJTO59kC6XVjob7K4U-d8VwptYxgZ045PU5pvPM6xW_2WNUVgV1oe39TK3azsB2VzuPSMABzZ-NY/s1600/photo.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwl1QQnCqEJI3npKuaIijmz1fPTN-bJMhXKh3J-1dt603rt4yNZzw_vwnZ94SVFODaJTO59kC6XVjob7K4U-d8VwptYxgZ045PU5pvPM6xW_2WNUVgV1oe39TK3azsB2VzuPSMABzZ-NY/s320/photo.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">William trains in our carport in the<br />predawn hour while I sip my coffee.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
So why do I get so nervous? I'm not racing for Pete's sake! I don't like ME when I'm nervous either. I'm snappy and irritable. (I know. Hard to believe, right?) If I'm so ridiculously nervous, how must my boys feel?<br />
<br />
As William heaved on his backpack on the way out the door this morning he said suddenly, "Man, I can't wait for Grands!" But then, if he could, we probably wouldn't be going. Is he nervous? Oh I'd be surprised if he isn't, and that's ok.<br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjM6kdugNcQBQgtkYmoFllPX07ros3f8HURDYoDukTaZiQHCEYMDykX8RcjAF3Vyx13cyvr9KdFcDrY4AOZm2rw6QMTq05QQfoIWyu3ZnDiwnsr0w_tWzOVPkBwqMFYvUmAEpXkhsDU6xU/s1600/photo.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjM6kdugNcQBQgtkYmoFllPX07ros3f8HURDYoDukTaZiQHCEYMDykX8RcjAF3Vyx13cyvr9KdFcDrY4AOZm2rw6QMTq05QQfoIWyu3ZnDiwnsr0w_tWzOVPkBwqMFYvUmAEpXkhsDU6xU/s320/photo.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Swimming 4 days a week has definitely <br />increased Wyatt's speed on the bike!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
I'm not sure Wyatt ever gets nervous, but this Grands could possibly be his final <i>adieu</i> to the 9 intermediate class. With his inevitable move to expert growing closer, Wyatt has dedicated himself to getting stronger and faster. He seldom trains with his brother, choosing instead to spend several hours a week in the pool swimming for ATAC.<br />
<br />
These boys couldn't be more ready. They've done everything they can do to prepare. It's time to go to Tulsa!<br />
<br />
While everyone fills their grocery carts with turkey and cranberry sauce, I fill ours with bottled water, Gatorade Primes and energy bars. Thanksgiving will be different this year, but we will still be with family-- our Felt family! I'm looking forward to all the laughter we share as we cheer on our riders. GO FELT!<br />
<br />
On Saturday, I get a special treat! One of my dearest childhood friends, who I haven't seen in at least 15 years, is driving over from Norman, OK with her son to watch the race. I couldn't be more excited to hug her neck and laugh about old times.<br />
<br />
Goodness! I feel better already. Safe travels and good luck to all the riders!<br />
<br />
BMX Mom<br />
<br />
<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="344" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/V1bFr2SWP1I?fs=1" width="459"></iframe><br />
<br />
*Susan to Ricky Bobby in "Talladega Nights".<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;"><br /></span></span></div>
bmxmomhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09163408990177860415noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-564558119712877363.post-70913282846481255672012-10-14T23:01:00.000-04:002012-10-15T06:48:37.899-04:00Butter<i><br />"I got that nickname when I first turned pro,"</i> said Bennett<i>. "A couple older guys gave it to me, saying I was smooth, like butter, on my bike. I think it's a good nickname. It's stuck with me."*</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgq1EXt527X7-O18ozXJslwPCGbGuH7JIVXeVdwRHbnaOOBs3MReuGMUSfD62ihL_XVnmVzcCS-grwbZt56vtKkFl4KngjX_BEes2iESlOiLUjHtB5RtP4tdh_3uh4dOsDTgMT6yerwKlM/s1600/Olympics+Day+12+Cycling+BMX+RFydeGowiKBl.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="206" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgq1EXt527X7-O18ozXJslwPCGbGuH7JIVXeVdwRHbnaOOBs3MReuGMUSfD62ihL_XVnmVzcCS-grwbZt56vtKkFl4KngjX_BEes2iESlOiLUjHtB5RtP4tdh_3uh4dOsDTgMT6yerwKlM/s320/Olympics+Day+12+Cycling+BMX+RFydeGowiKBl.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<i><br /></i>
<br />
<div>
Our BMX family heard the tragic news early this morning, before the local media in <a href="http://main.montgomerycountypolicereporter.com/?p=53224">Montgomery County Texas reported it.</a> In their early report, there was no mention that Kyle Bennett was on the first ever U.S. Olympic BMX team; a legend paving the way for the future of the sport. Once realized though, tributes were planned, and a more in-depth story was written.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
When we heard, we couldn't believe it. We were hoping it was a mistake. But no, Kyle Bennett died in an early morning car crash, leaving his fiancee and young daughter. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
My heart broke for them. They were suddenly living a nightmare, hoping to wake up, only to discover that what happened was real. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Kyle Bennett was raised in Conroe, TX, by his grandparents. His grandfather "Pepa" first took his grandson to a BMX track when he was 7. He built Armadillo BMX, which is now known as "Kyle Bennett Armadillo BMX Park". The former Olympian hosted a clinic there just last Wednesday.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtBRzkP10XPP51Y1fWNKThtzaMQUYfDF77iqscaQsqkAq7Jz6hUZNE2ruMO4Ny-SY_IoSWGiDwkq4IQHKOXBeWfuDpKmbzMDKPGXDr33HUJqKXclDti83CCm5JjNMITYQ_ClsR5amYm3w/s1600/bennettx-large.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="205" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtBRzkP10XPP51Y1fWNKThtzaMQUYfDF77iqscaQsqkAq7Jz6hUZNE2ruMO4Ny-SY_IoSWGiDwkq4IQHKOXBeWfuDpKmbzMDKPGXDr33HUJqKXclDti83CCm5JjNMITYQ_ClsR5amYm3w/s320/bennettx-large.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both;">
<br /></div>
"I'm real proud of him," said Collins as he sits with Bennett outside his house. "He's my beloved grandson. When he first started, I'd say to him, 'Just don't give up.' If he lost, I'd say, 'Don't worry. You've got another one coming up.' "*<br />
<br />
Today we watched Felix Baumgartner make his leap from the edge of space. Oddly, I found myself thinking of Kyle Bennett and his family as the live feed showed Baumgartner's mother - sometimes watching intently, and sometimes burying her face in her hands - as her son spiraled towards earth. While it was a nerve wracking 6 minutes for us, I can't begin to contemplate what it felt like for her.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinIEMD2w5s-vhNv7r8_Y3uhav6X8JmLBK_KTbQUL1sbXA6BDETw_yhk2RPtq8Hr200sSkUYfcKqOTYMP2bOEq5bo_hXSujliICwBgnZ7s9AzTE2zrn_GVf_fVtdARLm6_QIYnxENTxjtc/s1600/Supersonic_Skydiver_00188.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinIEMD2w5s-vhNv7r8_Y3uhav6X8JmLBK_KTbQUL1sbXA6BDETw_yhk2RPtq8Hr200sSkUYfcKqOTYMP2bOEq5bo_hXSujliICwBgnZ7s9AzTE2zrn_GVf_fVtdARLm6_QIYnxENTxjtc/s320/Supersonic_Skydiver_00188.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
Baumgartner made it though, landing smooth as butter, for his family to embrace him once more.</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<iframe allowfullscreen="allowfullscreen" frameborder="0" height="315" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/bEOmzUUO9_Y" width="560"></iframe></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
Please help Kyle's family by visiting <a href="http://www.kbarmadillobmx.com/KB_Armadillo_BMX/Kyle_Bennett_Memorial.html">http://www.kbarmadillobmx.com/KB_Armadillo_BMX/Kyle_Bennett_Memorial.html</a> to donate to the Kyle Bennett Memorial Fund.</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
Our hearts go out to the family and friends of Kyle Bennett. </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
BMX Mom</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">*<a href="http://usatoday30.usatoday.com/sports/olympics/beijing/cycling/2008-07-28-bmx-bennett_N.htm">http://usatoday30.usatoday.com/sports/olympics/beijing/cycling/2008-07-28-bmx-bennett_N.htm</a></span></div>
bmxmomhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09163408990177860415noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-564558119712877363.post-47096361722008997452012-09-13T18:04:00.000-04:002012-09-13T18:04:27.768-04:00Branded: Turning Sacrifice into Profit<h4>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;">Non-BMXers often ask us, </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;"><i>how do you do it? </i></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;">One word: </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;"><b>SACRIFICE. </b></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;">All BMX parents understand this. If there's a race coming up, and someone growth spurted and outgrew the $150 clips that you bought last month, you quickly get a new pair. If your child has worked hard all season and is sitting at #11 in N.A.G. points in late summer, you put another national on the schedule. All vacations revolve around racing. This isn't something we complain about. It's just a fact of life.</span></h4>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
There are some parents, however, who have turned this crazy lifestyle into a profitable affair.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<u>Beach BMX Designs</u></div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyh8om7tGmJeGSFo_wad66o2m1_9Aaw8yMb0mPUXqnSp0Si1y8Cyg8MSKY76GQKe0xyzgkjczr-3gJU0EZbts9Rc8LyGRGi1MdQAcAoYGhK1MJ-kBJY3m6mNr7wpUHa4KXXVDkZf_XWVo/s1600/il_570xN.334208045.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="191" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyh8om7tGmJeGSFo_wad66o2m1_9Aaw8yMb0mPUXqnSp0Si1y8Cyg8MSKY76GQKe0xyzgkjczr-3gJU0EZbts9Rc8LyGRGi1MdQAcAoYGhK1MJ-kBJY3m6mNr7wpUHa4KXXVDkZf_XWVo/s320/il_570xN.334208045.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Bike chain and leather bracelet by Beach BMX Designs<br />
A great way to say "thank you!" to that special BMX mom!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div>
Vann noticed them first, a year or two ago at a national. "Look! Bracelets made from old bike chains. What a great idea!" While I have yet to make a purchase from Beach BMX Designs, I often nose around their display of artistically recycled BMX parts. With a houseful of boys racing BMX, jewelry designer Maribeth says, <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"> </span>"I created Beach BMX to provide us a way to continue our love of the sport and pursue my passion for recycling and repurposing materials!" Personally, I'm all about creatively recycling and repurposing, while getting back some of those race expenses. What a great idea! Maribeth gives back too...With the purchase of anything PINK, she'll make a donation to the Pink Ribbon Foundation and with the purchase of anything YELLOW, she'll donate to the Lance Armstrong Foundation! Check out Beach BMX Designs at <a href="http://www.beachbmx.com/">www.beachbmx.com</a>.</div>
<div>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 20px;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj25Wg7lOXHteEzNNbkZKk4PDgq0nxnz0pmiKMOwL8NiNzWcQPc8LCiNvFKf7-8-aWAwHl2mKziwFrMmoCgXy9-XllcZSfMWjyQDEat7N50FJez-FKFviM_M1gokhRoYB1AUCZrZ6b7tzg/s1600/402895_431179093594893_3397179_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><br /></a></div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7lYW92QaGHC_GtSEzkiTMUQq4IVWlQdCupzL4_fb8l3wmyDX58jVDpjmbBn6mMExH_HGaV_h0dLJhxqg57w5Z9G4Z6uwTTYHTwZbbFmeImzGZdK5XsvyPdZsfTJ8fOptxiDn-_v_Hdeo/s1600/photo.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7lYW92QaGHC_GtSEzkiTMUQq4IVWlQdCupzL4_fb8l3wmyDX58jVDpjmbBn6mMExH_HGaV_h0dLJhxqg57w5Z9G4Z6uwTTYHTwZbbFmeImzGZdK5XsvyPdZsfTJ8fOptxiDn-_v_Hdeo/s320/photo.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Wyatt is sporting his new KDM belt<br />
that we picked up in Louisville.<br />
A tee and hoody are in his near future.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 20px;"><u><br />Kid DynaMite Apparel Co.</u></span></span><br />
<br />Launched in May 2012, Kid DynaMite took off with a blast. Catering to the action sports family, "KDM's mission is to provide Today's Youth with some <i>Real Options</i> in clothing while providing the best Quality products to fit their everyday Intense Lifestyle." KDM's founder, Eric Bess has been heavily involved in BMX racing and freestyle throughout his life. He's also a well-known bass guitarist! How cool is that? I have no doubt that KDM, with their vibrant colors and bold designs, will be filling the closets of action sports aficionados everywhere.<br /><br />Order a tee, and check out the sponsorship opportunities at <a href="http://www.kid-dynamite.com/">www.kid-dynamite.com</a>. Look for the release of their new line of hoodies in October!<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj25Wg7lOXHteEzNNbkZKk4PDgq0nxnz0pmiKMOwL8NiNzWcQPc8LCiNvFKf7-8-aWAwHl2mKziwFrMmoCgXy9-XllcZSfMWjyQDEat7N50FJez-FKFviM_M1gokhRoYB1AUCZrZ6b7tzg/s1600/402895_431179093594893_3397179_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj25Wg7lOXHteEzNNbkZKk4PDgq0nxnz0pmiKMOwL8NiNzWcQPc8LCiNvFKf7-8-aWAwHl2mKziwFrMmoCgXy9-XllcZSfMWjyQDEat7N50FJez-FKFviM_M1gokhRoYB1AUCZrZ6b7tzg/s320/402895_431179093594893_3397179_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9fK5RHRb_ngzb4w8m81SdD0URqTxx39COzH8iyPGPImJt_hd7LfH7WonMcRuGfOM0XwZWhAzurKZxFtcPqzuryrZoXE3epYGzqn-ez1eaj__arhyQY0zA3SNck8irDn0wzzeeyvL0iFo/s1600/581446_10151030382091814_1418277236_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9fK5RHRb_ngzb4w8m81SdD0URqTxx39COzH8iyPGPImJt_hd7LfH7WonMcRuGfOM0XwZWhAzurKZxFtcPqzuryrZoXE3epYGzqn-ez1eaj__arhyQY0zA3SNck8irDn0wzzeeyvL0iFo/s320/581446_10151030382091814_1418277236_n.jpg" width="256" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Find this and more at <a href="http://pinchgear.com/">pinchgear.com</a>!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<u>Pinch Gear</u><br />
"Maliek Byndloss' mom gave me a tank top to give to you. I stuck it in your bag." Huh?<br />
<br />
While in Louisville, William and a friend were visiting in the SSquared pits. Stacy Byndloss struck up a conversation with William, and gave him the tank-- for me! When I had a chance to investigate, I discovered a heavy-weight, high quality, slim fit white tank with "Pinch Gear.com" printed on the front. Admittedly, I had never heard of Pinch Gear, and my first thought was bike parts! Curiosity won, and soon I was googling "pinch gear". I struck gold!<br />
<br />
What I found was a website full of shiny accessories, from sunglasses and handbags, to jewelry. "With style that stuns and attitude that stops traffic, these fashions don’t just make a statement. They make an entrance." Wow!<br />
<br />
While these beautiful things aren't BMX related, Stacy Byndloss can still use her BMX connections to promote her business, and support her son's dreams.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoJeRGDaNmKZg3Nauc21iq6ZJrBQfiI2mpznUAGM1Q2mfRa-uoKxuRHwBcT3FWvGzjmfgPxe7pSz_KVh8X2JCvjLGITL_ipHMtOV330TtCzA9bSJ6TsuAdWE8Ft8SKWJ-FeVMtyJtHApM/s1600/photo.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoJeRGDaNmKZg3Nauc21iq6ZJrBQfiI2mpznUAGM1Q2mfRa-uoKxuRHwBcT3FWvGzjmfgPxe7pSz_KVh8X2JCvjLGITL_ipHMtOV330TtCzA9bSJ6TsuAdWE8Ft8SKWJ-FeVMtyJtHApM/s320/photo.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Thank you, Stacy Byndloss, for the tank!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
I believe that BMX families need to support one another, and our young athletes. Next time you're looking for an artfully designed BMX bracelet, a rockin' new tee, or just something to make you feel beautiful, keep it in the BMX family.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
BMX Mom</div>
<div>
<br /><br /></div>
bmxmomhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09163408990177860415noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-564558119712877363.post-8320481711582529502012-07-03T22:51:00.000-04:002012-07-03T22:51:32.303-04:00Heading to South Park? Say Hello to Andy and FrankI turned off my Kindle on a flight home from Houston on Sunday to avoid scrambled airwaves and mortal peril. With light quickly fading as we waited on the jetway, I thumbed through the <i>Sky</i> magazine. The word Pittsburgh caught my eye, forcing me to disrupt my sleeping neighbor and turn on the overhead. For twenty pages I read of Pittsburgh's success in avoiding recession, and their boast of a "healthy higher education sector" fostering their "knowledge based economy".<br />
<br />
Still, what's there to <i>see</i>?<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSx77XbF2F7em7oyRhvcbtpspJSmnWo4hjYYKY4FRPWG5kS7r0vqYmorwRgs81BVfS1MGAlsXR-jDnIl7EzgEpPetMry-6JQ0lDNVElA8QSRRXiw0JJu63-pTjyQWVOhJqj98WkJUGDTc/s1600/photo.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="228" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSx77XbF2F7em7oyRhvcbtpspJSmnWo4hjYYKY4FRPWG5kS7r0vqYmorwRgs81BVfS1MGAlsXR-jDnIl7EzgEpPetMry-6JQ0lDNVElA8QSRRXiw0JJu63-pTjyQWVOhJqj98WkJUGDTc/s320/photo.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
My jaw dropped when I saw it. I can't believe I didn't know! I swear I wiped away drool upon discovering that there in Steel City is the largest museum in the country devoted to a single artist -- Andy Warhol.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8EBs468-Ib8khr7YtyIUSCe3OqPcNh2p8qwbbiV63Hv8XlXfGYrv3fbcRMaGBk-Eo22GnzxxetDZUhZfOZbAgG737XofR2MlBDBnFxbTgA0NGKFKq4TmwA4h92DuqtlyZWjYcjNrvcRs/s1600/Warhol+Leibowitz+1976.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8EBs468-Ib8khr7YtyIUSCe3OqPcNh2p8qwbbiV63Hv8XlXfGYrv3fbcRMaGBk-Eo22GnzxxetDZUhZfOZbAgG737XofR2MlBDBnFxbTgA0NGKFKq4TmwA4h92DuqtlyZWjYcjNrvcRs/s320/Warhol+Leibowitz+1976.jpg" width="216" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption">Andy Warhol by Annie Leibowitz, 1976</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
He's not my favorite, but he's home-grown, wildly pop, and his art will influence others for years-- no--- forever.<br />
<br />
I immediately checked museum hours (open Friday until 10pm with half price admission after 5!), and distance from the track (a mere 13 miles). My mind was made up.<br />
<br />
As if this weren't exciting enough, an hour outside of town, tiered above a rocky hillside is Frank Lloyd Wright's <i>Fallingwater</i>. Wright's Prairie Style, which ended abruptly after a tragic incident involving his cook, his mistress, and an axe, made him famous, but <i>Fallingwater </i>(1935)<i> </i>was his crown jewel. Wright achieved something wholly American; a structure communing with a Pennsylvania waterfall, and existing as one.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3e82FbSogDz4f0_u3raRFkUaYDqUjkGmFZCFBbtEVrYo74cjKc7FA2dCKmSdVDLaI_1Q4UdMZrxkr81KzSWU_QEWvabP627YhU_hzH7dGElFPHnsYJBVXX8kqzhivN3yfDX1ZIZkc3mI/s1600/fallingwater-2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="285" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3e82FbSogDz4f0_u3raRFkUaYDqUjkGmFZCFBbtEVrYo74cjKc7FA2dCKmSdVDLaI_1Q4UdMZrxkr81KzSWU_QEWvabP627YhU_hzH7dGElFPHnsYJBVXX8kqzhivN3yfDX1ZIZkc3mI/s320/fallingwater-2.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
Regrettably, we won't have time to visit <i>Fallingwater</i>. We're going to race after all! However, we will be visiting Andy Warhol Friday night. Won't you join us?</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEie0Tz14TzJUqk5HRa3MvcA4jEWBbPlcthfMuefPDdoErdKWEhczg5cpFhFL3RdPXcC6ay3KOt6YvLmxA6qdLlBuy_vttEiynMoKgD9tnpV7wspQMvl99X_RT_kudDuzUDalMXHZCy4FJE/s1600/1998.1.2502.2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="316" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEie0Tz14TzJUqk5HRa3MvcA4jEWBbPlcthfMuefPDdoErdKWEhczg5cpFhFL3RdPXcC6ay3KOt6YvLmxA6qdLlBuy_vttEiynMoKgD9tnpV7wspQMvl99X_RT_kudDuzUDalMXHZCy4FJE/s320/1998.1.2502.2.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption">Andy Warhol (American, 1928-1987)<br />Moonwalk, 1987 <br />screen print on Lenox Museum Board<br />38 x 38 in. (96.5 x 96.5 cm.)<br />The Andy Warhol Museum, Pittsburgh; Founding Collection, <br />Contribution The Andy Warhol Foundation for the Visual Arts, Inc.<br /><br />© The Andy Warhol Foundation for the Visual Arts, Inc.<br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: xx-small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 13px;"><span style="border-bottom-width: 0px; border-color: initial; border-left-width: 0px; border-right-width: 0px; border-style: initial; border-top-width: 0px; font-style: inherit; font-weight: inherit; line-height: 1; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px; text-align: left; vertical-align: baseline;"><br /></span></span></span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
Safe travels to everyone headed to Pittsburgh. See you there!</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
BMX Mom</div>
<br />bmxmomhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09163408990177860415noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-564558119712877363.post-22433587612117040492012-06-25T15:13:00.000-04:002012-06-26T08:12:43.785-04:00Olympic Dreams<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuB1MAA1IGwak8mGY1MEiiFvln9BD1geRKTG0lNxch3YABMAY6ONUMRCP8p1zWdIaSnIFNUaWZuTevAZmZXOMhomDXlaqU5HNSXpmcIjVYmQamFUuTeD02wjmh_TClwbRJJeQgXcvfFfw/s1600/meswimming.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuB1MAA1IGwak8mGY1MEiiFvln9BD1geRKTG0lNxch3YABMAY6ONUMRCP8p1zWdIaSnIFNUaWZuTevAZmZXOMhomDXlaqU5HNSXpmcIjVYmQamFUuTeD02wjmh_TClwbRJJeQgXcvfFfw/s320/meswimming.jpg" width="232" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I was once a future Olympian. Weren't we all?</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
When I was seven, my dream was to become an Olympic swimmer. I swam laps relentlessly, burning off excess childhood energy that, if bottled, would be the finest wine to me now. I've recently been informed that I was a terror; a spoiled child who played my divorced parents like a fiddle. The only person who had patience for me was my older cousin Craig. He indulged me for hours with his stop watch as I swam on and on in our Papa's Palm Beach pool, confident that my Wonder Woman bathing suit was shaving off time. Did Craig maybe believe in me? Did he think I <i>could</i> be an Olympic swimmer? No one ever said, and my dream slowly died, as I outgrew my chlorine faded Wonder Woman suit.<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
Beginning last Friday, tracks all over the country celebrated the upcoming 2012 Olympics by offering Olympic Day. Racing was free for all, along with complimentary one-day USA BMX memberships for new riders. On Saturday, our family participated with our friends at Circle City BMX in Dothan. There was a good crowd and energy in the air. To add to the nostalgia the Olympics invariably invoke, the "Chicken Dance" blared, sending the kids onto the track to shake their tail feathers before taking their bikes into staging.<br />
<div>
<br />
<div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitfLjE3tHP_Fu2stwwxb-jnWGJONJozwO4xDb-Om511shSJUIOmi4tXDLi3ZhTuZlihgsu62hCsE7KoVyiVPF8JEJcwvgL3RVFWU1DCNgyLRFEPkr-nvcpJRmknwxRNJ5wPNho-fExg2E/s1600/206100_3582874923850_1849340889_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitfLjE3tHP_Fu2stwwxb-jnWGJONJozwO4xDb-Om511shSJUIOmi4tXDLi3ZhTuZlihgsu62hCsE7KoVyiVPF8JEJcwvgL3RVFWU1DCNgyLRFEPkr-nvcpJRmknwxRNJ5wPNho-fExg2E/s320/206100_3582874923850_1849340889_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">William Parker, Wyatt Parker and Britt Dooley had a blast racing together<br />
in both 20" and cruiser, at Olympic Day at Circle City BMX</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</div>
<div>
I asked a couple of fellow BMX families how they felt about the Olympics:<br />
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
"Britt never thought much about the Olympics until he started racing BMX 3 years ago. Because he participates in BMX and it's an Olympic Sport he's actually followed it more this year than in the past and not just the BMX stuff. He's become fascinated with the process that one has to go through to qualify for the Olympics. And how hard it is to get there. He has the lofty goal of getting there someday and representing the US. Watching Barry (Nobles) barely miss out making it opened his eyes to just how hard it really is. He looks up to Barry, Connor (Fields), Mike Day and the rest.<br />
<br />
In Britt's perspective, the Olympics has gone from being an after thought to something he has begun to appreciate. It's now a goal of his one day to stand on that podium and hear the National Anthem played.<br />
<br />
Big dreams, little guy doesn't understand just how hard it is to get there."</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
- Payton Dooley, dad of Britt Dooley (11int)</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
"The Olympic games are a way for a person or a team to represent their country by competing against the best athletes from other countries in the sport they love, in the biggest race in the world. There is such excitement about supporting USA because of the freedom we have that makes living in the USA so great. This year it's even more exciting and meaningful because the sport Warren loves most, BMX racing, is in the Olympics. The fact that Barry (Nobles) was competing to go made it even more meaningful. Although Barry didn't make the cut, Warren's looking forward to watching and cheering on team USA. Warren hopes to have the chance to go to the Olympics one day & race BMX for team USA."<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div>
- Shannon Lee, Mom of Warren Lee (10x), Thorsby, Alabama</div>
<div>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: 'lucida grande', tahoma, verdana, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 11px; line-height: 14px;"><br /></span></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCOFTFIxDN0KsT1L-aZmgkzsgu1aEouv5JfHWLuHqvjpHLMGUIWp0Nilxv3xFFz8pAM8ssMc2CqSS0zx0vi9EZ6IrSQhPDMAvha61vBZD2joqSBEnBrf8bTAFftYOwFacf0EIwR_6Ejfw/s1600/548774_4211989027224_1292869227_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="" border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCOFTFIxDN0KsT1L-aZmgkzsgu1aEouv5JfHWLuHqvjpHLMGUIWp0Nilxv3xFFz8pAM8ssMc2CqSS0zx0vi9EZ6IrSQhPDMAvha61vBZD2joqSBEnBrf8bTAFftYOwFacf0EIwR_6Ejfw/s320/548774_4211989027224_1292869227_n.jpg" title="" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Warren Lee (center) earned gold medals in 10x and 10c<br />
participating in the Olympic Day race at Weaver BMX (Alabama).<br />
Warren hopes to race in the Olympics one day.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: -webkit-auto;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKY_RnDLA7mbN3MMf7NsT6wBqo4goj9Og_Gb3u-TYi_rxr4MY4x3onZJSoyUm1TcwqBtuRo-9Byn0CRxgZhdDENatQI0x8oSNqB3PMOTOf-gtqnSyeo9l8HVY_Ph2F4WzRO_5KJVISmy0/s1600/ConnorWins0767-800.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKY_RnDLA7mbN3MMf7NsT6wBqo4goj9Og_Gb3u-TYi_rxr4MY4x3onZJSoyUm1TcwqBtuRo-9Byn0CRxgZhdDENatQI0x8oSNqB3PMOTOf-gtqnSyeo9l8HVY_Ph2F4WzRO_5KJVISmy0/s320/ConnorWins0767-800.jpg" width="213" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Will there be two Olympics for Connor Fields?</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div>
Ever since our time in England for BMX World Championships, the Olympics have been a hot topic in our home. We know the young men and women who earned their positions on Team USA will represent their country well. I asked William his predictions for 2016. It didn't take him long to make his list. "I don't want to hurt anyone's feelings". He hesitated. "This could change."</div>
</div>
</div>
<div>
William's picks for Team USA in 2016:</div>
<div>
<ul>
<li>Felicia Stancil</li>
<li>Dani George</li>
<li>Cole Tesar</li>
<li>Maliek Byndloss</li>
<li>Collin Hudson</li>
<li>or maybe Connor Fields again</li>
</ul>
<div>
I made the point to William that for the 2020 Olympics he'll be nineteen. "I suppose I have a shot in 2020 and 2024", he contemplated. "I'm going to go ahead and go in 2020. Then I can finish my education and start my career. I don't want to be stuck with nothing to do after the Olympics." </div>
</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
He said it as matter-of-fact-ly as if he had told me he was going to brush his teeth and go to bed.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Congratulations Olympians! Never stop dreaming!</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
BMX Mom</div>
</div>bmxmomhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09163408990177860415noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-564558119712877363.post-69744340565527475002012-05-31T17:00:00.000-04:002012-06-01T07:56:11.898-04:00England Swings Part Deux: Life is like a box of chocolates<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #222222; line-height: 16px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">"My momma always said, '<em style="color: black; font-style: normal;">Life</em> was <em style="color: black; font-style: normal;">like a box of chocolates</em>. <i>You never know what you're gonna get.</i>'"</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #222222; line-height: 16px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #222222; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 16px;">During the World Championships, Vann met William between each qualifying round, talking through a fence that kept the riders quarantined. "Is he eating?" "Did you tell him to go to the bathroom?" "How are his nerves?" Vann nodded his head emphatically at each of my overbearing questions.</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #222222; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 16px;"><br /></span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #222222; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 16px;">As it was, William remained cool as a cucumber throughout, which I can only attribute to the confidence that comes from 6 months of intense preparation. I, on the other hand, was nothing short of a basket case. Completely out of character, I'm ashamed to say I lost my marbles on one of the two ticket-takers at the NIA. I won't go into details, but the poor guy didn't deserve my wrath. He'll never see it, but I offer my public apology just the same.</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #222222; line-height: 16px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg19s2akJ-R1J5oVxXnFGPRUb-900Wv9OGhvvlA3V5XG6otO6-d3dtFe45em9QXzDMe54RlKL3NjA7iaiU80WgiDDeSbsvXf_YLOk2TbwXy0S1Iu6jFaFPW5fqJ0qfACsK2MZ13nX22QU4/s1600/IMG_0874.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg19s2akJ-R1J5oVxXnFGPRUb-900Wv9OGhvvlA3V5XG6otO6-d3dtFe45em9QXzDMe54RlKL3NjA7iaiU80WgiDDeSbsvXf_YLOk2TbwXy0S1Iu6jFaFPW5fqJ0qfACsK2MZ13nX22QU4/s320/IMG_0874.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #222222; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 16px;"><i>Remember to breathe</i> was the best advice I received, from a BMX mom who'd been there before. (Thanks Josette!) As motos went on, our group began to relax and have a good time. Our USA pits were directly behind the Japanese, who, without a lick of English, cheered enthusiastically each time the announcer uttered "Germany". The Germans didn't have a big crew there, so I'm sure they appreciated it.</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #222222; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 16px;"><br /></span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #222222; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 16px;">We knew it would have to be more than skill to carry William through eighths, quarters and semis. Strong riders were falling out left and right. As William crossed the line in a qualifying position in his semi, I finally felt at ease. He would have a world plate!</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #222222; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 16px;"><br /></span></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5_F7Mqo2Jh_Mbk8O0974QBxBsbwTPgKFhM9bub07KOi9-yBOu3uHunZVR1h2wuX5C0MgjGJx3MAwtmftwAjKY_ziZOLKyUC5PX8kh9NslgrnjKksX6dcwwNucGzkB2ES4b8bmIL5V1eY/s1600/IMG_0889.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5_F7Mqo2Jh_Mbk8O0974QBxBsbwTPgKFhM9bub07KOi9-yBOu3uHunZVR1h2wuX5C0MgjGJx3MAwtmftwAjKY_ziZOLKyUC5PX8kh9NslgrnjKksX6dcwwNucGzkB2ES4b8bmIL5V1eY/s320/IMG_0889.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #222222; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 16px;">Partly due to fate, and mostly because William <i>always</i> cranks to the line, William was able to choose an inside gate for the main. When he came out of the gate, no one could argue that he deserved to be there. He quickly fell into a third place position entering the first turn. Attempting to move into second, his pedal struck the ground, jamming his knee, and moving him into the fourth spot. He was lucky to hold on, but was unable to gain back a medal position, and finished fourth. We were unbelievably proud and excited!</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #222222; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 16px;"><br /></span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #222222; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 16px;">After awards, photos and hugs, when "Let's party all night!" turned into "Let's grab a quick bite at the hotel and go to bed", we finally had an opportunity to discuss the race with William. </span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #222222; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 16px;"><br /></span></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #222222; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 16px;">"WELL?" I said. That was all he needed. His tired, but happy face turned to us as he began his tale. <i>Life is like a box of chocolates. You never know what you're gonna get</i>. He said his favorite line from "Forrest Gump", and I wondered. Did he not think he would do so well? Did he expect more?</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #222222; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 16px;"><br /></span></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_rDJhB38RK62V3LBJ04fFIR6rjgsSFJRe0G6t61u6ZWANpaA3DONJJ8_pAJ16CKmsh87EBk3jt5PHKvhRsgzD-ZkOiwwaR-Oc7xLHhuajiI1MHNpvfVVhO-A1wbqkLzSZwUlKV8uYurg/s1600/534194_3217369645323_1169958759_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_rDJhB38RK62V3LBJ04fFIR6rjgsSFJRe0G6t61u6ZWANpaA3DONJJ8_pAJ16CKmsh87EBk3jt5PHKvhRsgzD-ZkOiwwaR-Oc7xLHhuajiI1MHNpvfVVhO-A1wbqkLzSZwUlKV8uYurg/s320/534194_3217369645323_1169958759_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #222222; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 16px;">He told us of the friends he made, and we laughed as he described how he communicated with his new Japanese friend (3rd place finisher Yuichi Masuda) through head shakes and sign language. The kids from Great Britain were shocked to learn that policeman in the U.S. carry guns, and William proudly described to them his own personal arsenal, which really had them in awe. Surprisingly, they asked about one another's governments, and compared the differences. We learned too, that we're not just the spawn of England or France, but our own unique culture-- wild, crazy Americans!</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #222222; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 16px;"><br /></span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #222222; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 16px;">When he finished, I understood what William meant. Take advantage of what's in front of you. Live life now. <i>You never know what you're gonna get</i>.</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #222222; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 16px;"><br /></span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #222222; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 16px;"><b>Watch this awesome <a href="http://animoto.com/play/ZbfBQuGwMf8Qmlo7N0kWlw">Video of Factory Felt riders at Worlds by Phillip Habib</a></b></span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #222222; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 16px;"><br /></span></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1GcJKgGsoQYsf_f-ZVmqdd4R9h9rTyhpg0PK1vdaGQ8_8YeCf8LqwiJD_okaYbQe4mz8nAcV7dKLWy0ex65PUCEtnRra9uSJRaAZ8VXxYL7qW-f8i3sxiQNzfIIIDJlxUtL2hx2imIi4/s1600/offwiththeirheads.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="217" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1GcJKgGsoQYsf_f-ZVmqdd4R9h9rTyhpg0PK1vdaGQ8_8YeCf8LqwiJD_okaYbQe4mz8nAcV7dKLWy0ex65PUCEtnRra9uSJRaAZ8VXxYL7qW-f8i3sxiQNzfIIIDJlxUtL2hx2imIi4/s320/offwiththeirheads.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #222222; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 16px;">The very next day, William turned eleven. We celebrated with our friends the Habibs, in proper Medieval fashion. It's not everyday an 11-yr-old boy gets to visit a castle, chop off his brother's head, and see a Shakespeare play on his birthday. It was a great time with great friends!</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #222222; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 16px;"><br /></span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #222222; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 16px;">Sunday morning we made our leave, sad to miss our friends racing cruiser, but happy to be on our way. We headed to Paris on a 24-hour lay over. Not wanting to waste one minute, we hit the cobblestones running. Notre Dame was crowded, but amazing just the same. We had dinner with my cousin Jill and her family, while the boys played soccer with their Parisian cousin Jude in the gardens of the Louvre.</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #222222; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 16px;"><br /></span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #222222; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 16px;">By 10 pm we were all worn out, and contemplating the long flight ahead, when Wyatt pulled the<i> Puss in Boots</i> face. "Oh <i>pleez</i> can we go to the Eiffel Tower?"</span></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-b9xxn-vIWnxZY2xMImqSTkdQBEu1sAmmZAa_LWKFl7B6wYFENRpPoyUFdS5QhDC0xP4-7XpiTvZSXqPfRxWRH64BZ663fFmwLYwxMiIPxyTO4F4isj3CsN9To0UPewotQ7aPYbXo2HU/s1600/IMG_0987.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-b9xxn-vIWnxZY2xMImqSTkdQBEu1sAmmZAa_LWKFl7B6wYFENRpPoyUFdS5QhDC0xP4-7XpiTvZSXqPfRxWRH64BZ663fFmwLYwxMiIPxyTO4F4isj3CsN9To0UPewotQ7aPYbXo2HU/s320/IMG_0987.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #222222; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 16px;"><br /></span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #222222; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 16px;"><br /></span></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: none; color: #222222; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 16px;">With rubber legs and tired faces, we rode to the top at midnight. Too tired to walk to the hotel, Vann hailed a cab. Wyatt was asleep within the minute.</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: none; color: #222222; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 16px;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxzFvRoB31F1uogfWU8HSyBLEAU2QzWbAWI_U3IyW46R2zNES46Ly39blOjugFGStJXOFwe8ctWZm2ri6B6ItnoTq9_DTgB0lXNJX5lNEgTCVN85eJplzrmZmv6JtTHuvyW-7cxeH0cOk/s1600/IMG_1005.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxzFvRoB31F1uogfWU8HSyBLEAU2QzWbAWI_U3IyW46R2zNES46Ly39blOjugFGStJXOFwe8ctWZm2ri6B6ItnoTq9_DTgB0lXNJX5lNEgTCVN85eJplzrmZmv6JtTHuvyW-7cxeH0cOk/s320/IMG_1005.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #222222; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 16px;"><br /></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #222222; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 16px;">Go to England. Ride your race. Skip and hold hands. See a Shakespeare play. Be crazy. See the Eiffel Tower at midnight. Go to New Zealand.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #222222; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 16px;"><br /></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #222222; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 16px;">Live.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #222222; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 16px;"><br /></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #222222; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 16px;">Because...</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #222222; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 16px;"><br /></span><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #222222; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 16px;">"My momma always said, 'life was like a box of chocolates.</span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #222222; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 16px;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">You never know what you're gonna get.'</span></b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><b>"</b></span></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #222222; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 16px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><b><br /></b></span></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #222222; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 16px;">Many thanks for all the love, support, well-wishes, and congratulations sent out to William. Your presence was felt!</span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #222222; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 16px;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #222222; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 16px;">BMX Mom</span></span></div>bmxmomhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09163408990177860415noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-564558119712877363.post-26742094258621969752012-05-22T17:27:00.000-04:002012-05-22T17:27:30.804-04:00England Swings: Part I of the 2012 BMX World Championships"England swings like a pendulum dooooo..."*<br />
<br />
Here I sit alone in the small foyer of our adjoining rooms, the only wi-fi hot spot in our home of 8 days. Luckily I have my warm (no ice or fridge) sauvignon blanc that Vann so lovingly procured. Snores surround me.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhs35_pgDGxZoFOeovf4aou0jDYaIEZUOmAJ-Lg_pLTPlVbgdo5aYY9AWyR9r2l7pCjIAGgGiBE-g-q3gVAz5mG8TpWNt8qySQU-ZqaTmc1P4raR2Ex-h5Dk5R944rJvB6_yRBrk4kg0E4/s1600/IMG_0765.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhs35_pgDGxZoFOeovf4aou0jDYaIEZUOmAJ-Lg_pLTPlVbgdo5aYY9AWyR9r2l7pCjIAGgGiBE-g-q3gVAz5mG8TpWNt8qySQU-ZqaTmc1P4raR2Ex-h5Dk5R944rJvB6_yRBrk4kg0E4/s320/IMG_0765.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">J.R.R. Tolkien honeymooned here in 1916!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
We're staying at THE Plough and Harrow, and I do mean THE. This was THE place!-- Back in the 1800s that is. Today we figured out the plumbing.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxKNeMLsTD04-YQFH70s0ZU7uuGZpw36fG6XmykdMw_PAUDqmOsAHdflsFcYLzsQtpr23BCt1tZekiC_IRofuSzSKLACEbhzG0OSODb3P0kSrwMVhcfUgQ8eu0uYVOuWeiP0ysGgT_JR8/s1600/IMG_0818.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxKNeMLsTD04-YQFH70s0ZU7uuGZpw36fG6XmykdMw_PAUDqmOsAHdflsFcYLzsQtpr23BCt1tZekiC_IRofuSzSKLACEbhzG0OSODb3P0kSrwMVhcfUgQ8eu0uYVOuWeiP0ysGgT_JR8/s320/IMG_0818.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">HA HA! Actually, this was in fact the posh potty in the gruesome Tower of London.<br />
The plumbing is quite tricky here though.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
But now for the real deal... Why are we here?<br />
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
We're here because I have a son who deserves it.</div>
<div>
We're here because he's earned it.</div>
<div>
We're here because he's willing to give it his all.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0XcUtmKlRtyiZf1ykaEmdL3-RPAtcUV3JLtVF6X5nbzVaCj7modNmtkz-l5opeRHxSsttA-PDK-XLHDsYlFfoyYCMuYYu-9vuQSDj9ZXTYjN40wabvA6prh3ObWGBZ6MQ60xDNLFgKd8/s1600/IMG_0848.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0XcUtmKlRtyiZf1ykaEmdL3-RPAtcUV3JLtVF6X5nbzVaCj7modNmtkz-l5opeRHxSsttA-PDK-XLHDsYlFfoyYCMuYYu-9vuQSDj9ZXTYjN40wabvA6prh3ObWGBZ6MQ60xDNLFgKd8/s320/IMG_0848.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">William Parker and Coleman Habib:<br />
representing Felt Bikes and the USA!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div>
Today was first practice. I won't lie. The track is tough, and the first straight has William worried. He's not the only one though. There were multiple wrecks coming off the first jump. William did wreck in practice today, but his only injury was a little blood and dirt on his coveted USA jersey. THAT's what mattered to him, but a little soap and scrubbing in the hotel sink had it good as new.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Tomorrow's practice promises good things. William knows how to dial in a track, and he has a plan. I can hardly wait for him to take on the World on Thursday. GO USA!!</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
BMX Mom</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">*From "England Swings" by Roger Miller</span></div>
<div>
<div>
<br /></div>
</div>bmxmomhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09163408990177860415noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-564558119712877363.post-84005379888992194622012-05-14T21:35:00.000-04:002012-05-14T21:35:14.218-04:00A Wet Winning Weekend at the USA BMX Dixieland NationalsThe rain was falling Saturday morning as we huddled under the Felt tents.<br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjibdqsecpvja54cJ0m2GMcQh8AXLgGJedOvexIEQ3LyiTyN_XbHBU2xPric5ne0cpkDcTvNPI90E19yGY5ZitDgB4CkDPymv06Gq8wK8fAasrm1v51-c8kwpad9bsdM-TKhf6aDLjoi_o/s1600/photo_17427_20120514.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="232" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjibdqsecpvja54cJ0m2GMcQh8AXLgGJedOvexIEQ3LyiTyN_XbHBU2xPric5ne0cpkDcTvNPI90E19yGY5ZitDgB4CkDPymv06Gq8wK8fAasrm1v51-c8kwpad9bsdM-TKhf6aDLjoi_o/s320/photo_17427_20120514.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sam Brown dominated 16 girls<br />
Photo credit: Mike Carruth</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
"What are you doing?" Sam (Samantha) Brown glared at William as he was gearing up for practice. "You're just going to slip on the gate... and fall... and hurt yourself... or get muddy!"<br />
<br />
His dad and I had been giving him the same speech for 30 minutes, but it took a pretty team mate to talk some sense into him. He stayed safe and clean by warming up in the parking lot.<br />
<br />
By race time, the rain had ceased, and the sun had come out to dry the track. First rounds went well, with nearly the whole Felt crew, plus Wyatt and Charlie "Chooch" Christopher, transferring out.<br />
<br />
Semis were thankfully uneventful. Everyone under the Felt tent easily moved on to their respective mains.<br />
<br />
Racing in Georgia comes with the added bonus of family. My Georgia cousins came to watch the races and cheer on the boys. With the boys transferring out first round, there was a lot of time to hang out and visit in the pits, and discuss all of the fishing, baseball, boogie boarding, etc. that's going to take place on our upcoming family beach vacation.<br />
<br />
As we stood on the fence waiting for Wyatt's 9 intermediate main, a screaming parent startled my cousin Judy's 7-month old daughter who had been sleeping peacefully in her sling. Judy leaned in to me and asked, "Do you guys yell like that?" Vann laughed. "Heather used to!" I then explained that I am now well under control, and proved it by standing demurely at the fence as Wyatt finished 5th in his first main as a 9-year-old.<br />
<br />
Not long after, William was on the hill for 10x. He shot out of gate 4, and never looked back.<br />
<br />
I lost it.<br />
<br />
Wyatt covered his ears and crept away. Vann, in between his own shouts of "Stay on the cranks!" and "Close the door!" urged me to calm down. There was no calming me. I was a BMX mom possessed.<br />
<br />
I screamed my head off as William brought in his first USA BMX national win.<br />
<br />
I quickly turned my attention to William's friends racing 11x. As Joey Leto took the lead, I continued to cheer. Joey crossed the line for a win just as William approached me at the fence. A smile lit his face like sunshine and warmed my heart.<br />
<br />
I hugged him. "I won!" He said.<br />
<br />
He rode off to congratulate Joey, whose smile was the size of William's. As the boys exchanged accolades, I heard William say, "that was just the confidence boost I needed".<br />
<br />
Indeed it was. With Sunday's race cancelled due to weather, we left Atlanta on a high note.<br />
<br />
<i>I won, </i>I heard William say to himself in the car. <i>I WON.</i><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFQUmj5IIiW9w1OCQR9BhfEWF_jSpXdzP2jvfmK35G-NnBRpJ62X3aR_hktRH6M_uVcqlR56LSbrW67YdvqazcXF39wREdiItM__2-p7G77PC61iS0MHpVYbxW8UkEvU93ytcHdYdKkMU/s1600/photo.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFQUmj5IIiW9w1OCQR9BhfEWF_jSpXdzP2jvfmK35G-NnBRpJ62X3aR_hktRH6M_uVcqlR56LSbrW67YdvqazcXF39wREdiItM__2-p7G77PC61iS0MHpVYbxW8UkEvU93ytcHdYdKkMU/s320/photo.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
Look out England, here we come!</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
BMX Mom</div>
<i><br /></i><br />
<i><br /></i>bmxmomhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09163408990177860415noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-564558119712877363.post-60763342872742898232012-04-24T09:33:00.000-04:002012-04-24T09:34:39.481-04:00Will PowerIt's human nature to remember the dates of the events that shape us. I've heard them referred to as "defining moments". One such event happened to William five years ago today. While he recalls little about those months, a seed was planted in his soul that continues to grow into strength, courage, and an unwavering determination to succeed.<br />
One month from today, William will take on the world in Birmingham, England.<br />
<br />
<div>
<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
<b>An edited repost of </b></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
<b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Sometimes They Fall: a Story of Courage</span></b></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
April 24, 2007 was the last Tuesday in April. I know this because my book club meets the last Tuesday of every month. It was going to be a big night at the track. The weather was beautiful and the track was pristine. The BMX dads had a fish fry planned. I opted out, choosing instead to discuss <i>Out of the Flames </i>with my book club ladies. Vann took the boys to practice and join in the fun.</div>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
<br /></div>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
My phone started ringing during our heated discussion of Michael Servetus, and his gory demise at the stake. I'm never interrupted at book club. I answered. The voice on the line was forcibly calm, hiding panic. "William is hurt. I need you to come to the track now." I began spewing questions, but the only response was, "Get here NOW."</div>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
<br /></div>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
I left abruptly, trying to control my speed, all the while wondering why on earth I wasn't meeting them at the emergency room that I was driving past. The drive seemed too long. I hurried. The phone rang. <i>Hurry</i>. <i>Hurry.</i></div>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
<i><br /></i></div>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
I saw the ambulance first.</div>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
<br /></div>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
After a full night of practice, followed by a race, the kids ate dinner and continued to ride. It was almost time to leave when William was hit. The other rider didn't see him. I was told that William cried out and went silent. When they tried to lift him, his left femur folded, and the ambulance was called.</div>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
<br /></div>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
William was sprawled on the track, the color gone from his face. He wasn't crying. He was loaded into the ambulance with me beside him. He was immediately stuck with an IV and given the maximum dose of morphine a 55 Ib body can take. The pulse in his left foot was checked repeatedly for signs of a severed femoral artery. We looked like a parade arriving at the hospital, with everyone from the track following behind the ambulance.</div>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
<br /></div>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
"Only three visitors allowed", we were told, as all but Vann, Wyatt and I dispersed. William's pants had to be removed for the x-ray. When the technician began cutting his pants, William began to cry. "I know it hurts baby", I soothed. "My new pants!" He sobbed. They were brand new red Fox racing pants. Then he turned to me quietly and asked, "Mommy, will you please get me some boxers in case this ever happens again?" Apparently he picked the wrong night to wear his Darth Vader drawers.</div>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
<br /></div>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjee5EJxLLgaK9SBIbFd9ABB5Ttj65DbCgeBusT4P2Wd9n8xNVyjBfa_3c3NCLx8ylDMhMfZdlK8VNiOX8dseksw8Tb4BC3oEGYYUW8YaOfPAZlCzbwcOtW8YOEMuavhABzOTFBWc_Onys/s1600/233691.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjee5EJxLLgaK9SBIbFd9ABB5Ttj65DbCgeBusT4P2Wd9n8xNVyjBfa_3c3NCLx8ylDMhMfZdlK8VNiOX8dseksw8Tb4BC3oEGYYUW8YaOfPAZlCzbwcOtW8YOEMuavhABzOTFBWc_Onys/s320/233691.JPG" style="cursor: move;" /></a>Watching William's face during his x-ray was torture, and I wanted to borrow his morphine drip just to get through it. The technician summoned us to the screen. It didn't require a phd to see that William's left femur, the largest bone in his little body, had snapped like a twig. In my nauseated stupor, I asked, "Is it broken?" (The image shown is a week after the accident. It's probably a good thing that I couldn't locate the emergency room x-rays.)</div>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
<br /></div>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
We were informed that the pediatric orthopedic surgeon had been called, and was on the way. When he arrived, he quickly explained that William would be prepped for surgery, and surgery would be performed immediately if the bone could not be set externally. It was past 11:00, and Wyatt was asleep in a chair. Vann needed to get him home, and was forced to leave with all the uncertainty looming. Soon after, I was introduced to the team of surgeons, orthopedists, nurses and anesthesiologists who had been assembled to put our son back together. When it was time, I kissed William, and held his hand for as long as they would let me, as they wheeled the gurney to the O. R.</div>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
<br /></div>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
William has been the cause of the longest hours of my life: first, his laborious natural birth, then, <i>this</i>. Time stood still as I fidgeted restlessly and made necessary phone calls.</div>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
<br /></div>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
After three hours, William's chief orthopedist, Dr. Fahey, materialized in the waiting room. The cast application had been successful, and the bone had been set externally. William had been placed in a <a href="http://www.health-first.org/health_info/your_health_first/kids/spica_cast.cfm">spica</a>, which you really have to see to believe. I was led to recovery, where William was just waking up. He looked down. "Oh God", he muttered softly. I held his hand again as we were checked into our room. Drowsy from morphine and anesthesia, I thought William would sleep. Instead, he cried softly the rest of the night. I cried too, because I didn't know how to help my son.</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
After, well, the worst night of our lives, William finally slept. Visitors and nurses came and went. Vann arrived after taking Wyatt to preschool, and we were informed that William would be discharged that afternoon. We were scared, but relieved that he would be home with us. Vann sent me home at last to shower and try to gather myself before collecting Wyatt. </div>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
<br /></div>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
My phone was ringing when I arrived home, and it was Kim from my book club. "What happened? How's William?" I'm sure she wasn't expecting the earful that she got. Then she asked, "how are YOU?" I looked down at myself, in the same clothes from yesterday, now dirty and smelly from the bmx track and the long night in the hospital, and all I could do was blink away tears. "Oh, I'm fine." Right. I'm really glad she didn't fall for that one, because she immediately gathered the troops and lined up our dinners for the following three weeks. If you don't go to church, I highly recommend joining a book club.</div>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
<br /></div>
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
Vann arrived home with William a few hours later. We were given no instructions on how to care for him. We had no clue how to carry him, put him in the car, or wash his hair. Leaving the hospital, Vann was given no assistance putting him in the truck, while poor William was crying in pain. The nurses in the hospital looked at William as if he were an alien, and it had taken three of them to figure out the best way for him to go to the bathroom. How were we supposed to do all this at home?</div>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
<br /></div>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1d8_ZGYyb4eiAZIKrrXJgknoIKatPaacOra0gltbPTFH0mro28Fm1fP9zhihwEjvI35EZQzX_ycna2L6qaX2Fj8useqp9WvDTfv6KmvnbVfWUPONuAAQ2ygnspknMbh7VnrpaqlpkbGQ/s1600/P1010001.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1d8_ZGYyb4eiAZIKrrXJgknoIKatPaacOra0gltbPTFH0mro28Fm1fP9zhihwEjvI35EZQzX_ycna2L6qaX2Fj8useqp9WvDTfv6KmvnbVfWUPONuAAQ2ygnspknMbh7VnrpaqlpkbGQ/s320/P1010001.JPG" style="cursor: move;" /></a>The first week was terribly difficult, as William was still in a tremendous amount of pain. Vann and I took turns sleeping in Wyatt's bed to be near William, and Wyatt would bunk up with one of us. William had always slept on his belly, but now had to sleep propped up on pillows, with more pillows positioned under his knees. Full of pain and frustration, he didn't sleep much.</div>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
<br /></div>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
William spent his days in a chair in our living room where he was most comfortable. He would doze off while reading <i>BMX Today</i> or <i>BMXer</i>, dreaming of getting back on his bike. It didn't take long for overwhelming boredom to set in. The following Tuesday, William announced that he wanted to watch bmx practice. On that first night back at the track, I think everyone wondered if he would in fact return to the bike. Our big burly track director, David Shields, held back tears, and had to turn away so William wouldn't see. What no one seemed to realize was that the thought of not returning to bmx never entered William's mind.</div>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
<br /></div>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
Three days after the accident, William's kindergarten teacher, Ms. Kenton, came to visit. William still had one month of school, and we weren't about to let this hold him back. She convinced William of how much the class missed him, and that he should come back when he felt up to it. We made arrangements for Wyatt to go to preschool five days a week, and I accompanied William to kindergarten for the remaining month of school. I'll admit, sitting in the cafeteria day after day with a bunch of kindergartners who couldn't open their milk cartons was a little trying, but I was so happy that William could still participate. His classmates were wonderful, and would take turns throwing the ball with him at recess.</div>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
<br /></div>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
Still, William suffered continuously from the frustration of being immobile. His dad, brother and I were constant cheerleaders trying to lift his spirits. After a couple of weeks, I was beginning to feel quite sorry for myself. Having William in that body cast was like having a 60 Ib baby that could bark out orders. My back ached from lifting him and his equally heavy wheel chair. My mind was numb from attending kindergarten. I was pathetic.</div>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
<br /></div>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
One particularly rough day, I dropped into bed exhausted, questioning again how we were going to get through this. Now, you may or may not believe me, but my dead grandma has a weird way of popping up when I least expect it. That night, her voice loud and clear in my head said these words:</div>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
<br /></div>
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;">You can not change what has happened.</span></i></div>
</div>
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;">You can decide whether to be weak or strong, or negative or positive.</span></i></div>
</div>
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;"><i><br /></i></span></div>
</div>
</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
I sat straight up in bed and vowed right then to end the pity party.</div>
</div>
</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
<br /></div>
</div>
</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
On Mother's Day, William received the best surprise. We were invited to watch Ricky Carmichael practice on his local track. Ricky and his buddy Ben Townley jumped high and did tail whips, and generally did a marvelous job of showing off. William loved it. Best of all, Ricky was the first to sign William's cast. We still have it, and it looks like a strange, headless body.</div>
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEji2dUpc8K56wVrwKh3s8j3qBOJ6-EN9KOgtfNBXJbQwXuuVCmGX_hL96a421Utu10K7M4xMnoHfs9vxmJehkBCv9a9R7RtY7D-LoDWJ7g28jsQV4AGk3s6nK38uFDwbgChqqpwQ3IiKew/s1600/P1010011.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEji2dUpc8K56wVrwKh3s8j3qBOJ6-EN9KOgtfNBXJbQwXuuVCmGX_hL96a421Utu10K7M4xMnoHfs9vxmJehkBCv9a9R7RtY7D-LoDWJ7g28jsQV4AGk3s6nK38uFDwbgChqqpwQ3IiKew/s320/P1010011.JPG" style="cursor: move;" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhc4_R4HbY7gRflppa5gj5LJlpg28IU0Hh5heVrJcqpPge8zqpUAPIgYYuFq4nN47a6zYIX8foBTMy3XH49rswUqkK_K8mWcDN15cTwNBqXSs75glaTr2-rHqIY8gV6z7ZvHZRE3OLZehY/s1600/P1010013.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhc4_R4HbY7gRflppa5gj5LJlpg28IU0Hh5heVrJcqpPge8zqpUAPIgYYuFq4nN47a6zYIX8foBTMy3XH49rswUqkK_K8mWcDN15cTwNBqXSs75glaTr2-rHqIY8gV6z7ZvHZRE3OLZehY/s320/P1010013.JPG" style="cursor: move;" /></a></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
<br /></div>
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: left;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEha0JVZbANC-vqWLHZrBzXiSF1gw4A1XgjjBiC3XJHCFhSiw-9hczffc-ZCsxrMAb_NVFVkkE_nD_Sp4Cj_csrcPOhu7rwp38N6sUQK0pdCcaj0QJHDdTMcJ1LrUkL9hTVoXZRuyPind3U/s1600/P1010010.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEha0JVZbANC-vqWLHZrBzXiSF1gw4A1XgjjBiC3XJHCFhSiw-9hczffc-ZCsxrMAb_NVFVkkE_nD_Sp4Cj_csrcPOhu7rwp38N6sUQK0pdCcaj0QJHDdTMcJ1LrUkL9hTVoXZRuyPind3U/s320/P1010010.JPG" style="cursor: move;" /></a>William's 6th birthday rolled around, and he chose to celebrate at the track. Originally, we had made plans to surprise William with a trip to Disney World. Just so you know, even if your child has a major accident and is in a body cast, that stupid mouse will not refund your deposit. We made the most of it just the same, and had a good night at the track. The boys pushed William around, and threw the football with him. (Pictured: William with his friend Keagan.)</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: left;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixBsnqA_8sGZUF_kHjitiyESs8UtRswtx5duMYZcZFJkZzl9elBM_dudBLN-A06pTs4qBxMSSjunlCZBKAkZVJRNe9SYl7cEOYkedZQhGxi4wSfOVFhzSyqBNq7tg-WcqbvCuVob-c-yM/s1600/233695.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixBsnqA_8sGZUF_kHjitiyESs8UtRswtx5duMYZcZFJkZzl9elBM_dudBLN-A06pTs4qBxMSSjunlCZBKAkZVJRNe9SYl7cEOYkedZQhGxi4wSfOVFhzSyqBNq7tg-WcqbvCuVob-c-yM/s200/233695.JPG" style="cursor: move;" width="200" /></a>Time dragged on, and after seven weeks the big day for cast removal finally arrived. William couldn't wait to ride a bike, and I couldn't wait for him to take a bath. We quickly learned that things don't always go as planned. William's leg was healing at an angle, and we held our breaths as Dr. Fahey debated surgery once again. Because William was growing so fast, he gambled, betting that William's growth would ultimately correct the problem. The decision was made to remove the spica and put William in a long leg cast.</div>
</div>
<div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4fuMML9l103QrIp0bizuyFgsUfngfGfbXnC6cN91RFYQIPiHaPJ2SvIR6vC0IlPQBUXo02VQxCgsOmRthu7LBKzpMXIS3lTCOkQGwM8FGUBHCuhbPvdFUxajDfUe3EmU90A27Xqb1hts/s1600/P1010002.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4fuMML9l103QrIp0bizuyFgsUfngfGfbXnC6cN91RFYQIPiHaPJ2SvIR6vC0IlPQBUXo02VQxCgsOmRthu7LBKzpMXIS3lTCOkQGwM8FGUBHCuhbPvdFUxajDfUe3EmU90A27Xqb1hts/s200/P1010002.JPG" style="cursor: move;" width="131" /></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: none; color: black;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: none; color: black;">William was glad to have one leg free, and quickly became somewhat mobile again with the help of a walker. He would practice in the yard where it was safe for him to fall over. I taught him the classic phrase, "I've fallen and I can't get up!" </span></span>Being able to move around a bit helped ease the disappointment of still being in a cast. </div>
</div>
</div>
<div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
</div>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9K4KK7DWlrJudATs9jHtMCvw4NGJI3NPa_uVvFWN4VsuJ_15ofHIQKQvURgt1QZgtv56uqx8B-vo-BJYjxh2Y-L-dy59TWA1rb1NMB1cN_QMfHL0Mlxx6HPvTlNpUtipnT6mlyvkfru4/s1600/P1010004.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9K4KK7DWlrJudATs9jHtMCvw4NGJI3NPa_uVvFWN4VsuJ_15ofHIQKQvURgt1QZgtv56uqx8B-vo-BJYjxh2Y-L-dy59TWA1rb1NMB1cN_QMfHL0Mlxx6HPvTlNpUtipnT6mlyvkfru4/s320/P1010004.JPG" style="cursor: move;" /></a>Three weeks later, we had better luck. The bone, although crooked, had fused well, and William was free at last. It would still be several weeks before William was allowed on a bike, but the day the cast came off, I let him ride his brother's big wheel. I had to carry him on and off of it because he still couldn't walk, but he could ride that big wheel like a champ. It wasn't long before he could begin using his trainer. This helped to strengthen his legs before he actually started riding. </div>
</div>
<div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
When the day came for him to return to the track, everyone paused and watched as William, limping severely, but fearless, walked up the starting hill, </div>
</div>
</div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
<div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgh9BocjFzmmqFPLoJjvRbh7vJOzIZFPalhrO5jVzsLxI_RNz0r2uAFty2KgUOyYAQ5ve3sduPvlRTyTgZCb_CSmtmY8oa6ihZ9QlrAH6oLPDcrjBTXMadF32kxP-incIniLbXYSa60wXo/s1600/P1010058.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgh9BocjFzmmqFPLoJjvRbh7vJOzIZFPalhrO5jVzsLxI_RNz0r2uAFty2KgUOyYAQ5ve3sduPvlRTyTgZCb_CSmtmY8oa6ihZ9QlrAH6oLPDcrjBTXMadF32kxP-incIniLbXYSa60wXo/s320/P1010058.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;">and rode again.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
William has been searching for a BMX nickname. We tested out "Will the Thrill", but that is commonly used by A PRO rider William Grant. We've been through them all, including the Shakespearean notion of "the Immortal Bard". That one was quickly rejected. As it goes, William came up with a name himself, and shared it with me last week:</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">Will Power</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpUSy7DTbYLwmLA_BbNb-128h5er17e0K-MlMM5jw9Q7K1KxNgwyfA-d6FbdPXEazc0mExwwyVii-Y2HFbCzbU06TF1Xn48ZIu_SQ9V8oiSWc4_zlK0hS_Z4BKSkBZ8ujBJrtaZLQym9Q/s1600/431771_3023240253333_1032520891_2822689_2002367951_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="209" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpUSy7DTbYLwmLA_BbNb-128h5er17e0K-MlMM5jw9Q7K1KxNgwyfA-d6FbdPXEazc0mExwwyVii-Y2HFbCzbU06TF1Xn48ZIu_SQ9V8oiSWc4_zlK0hS_Z4BKSkBZ8ujBJrtaZLQym9Q/s320/431771_3023240253333_1032520891_2822689_2002367951_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
It suits him, don't you think?<br />
<br />
BMX Mom</div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
</div>bmxmomhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09163408990177860415noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-564558119712877363.post-49511599389460224122012-04-05T00:40:00.000-04:002012-04-05T00:40:16.604-04:00Even a BMX Mom Needs a BreakI'm exhausted. Just now I added it up. I was in 9 states in the month of March. To top it off, I turned old---<div><br />
</div><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEielOx5DD5M8zP8mPaKebr2wr8bV-cayvfmDtFSaR6pq252ZvOE_3BkEP-LXxynpWy0EQx7kSDkbSP3bsFE664aEf2_tgm6LR4csQWoCTZ__hHeLod6WtC38grFazi8aLms8KBHULpLzt4/s1600/IMG_0326.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEielOx5DD5M8zP8mPaKebr2wr8bV-cayvfmDtFSaR6pq252ZvOE_3BkEP-LXxynpWy0EQx7kSDkbSP3bsFE664aEf2_tgm6LR4csQWoCTZ__hHeLod6WtC38grFazi8aLms8KBHULpLzt4/s320/IMG_0326.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I would've never made it without Rick Castro,<br />
dad of William's Felt team mate Ricky, who promptly<br />
changed the tube I blew up in William's cruiser.</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div>The week after the Super Nationals in DeSoto, TX, I lamented to Vann, "I can't catch up. I'm worn out!" To my sweet husband's credit, he sympathized, obviously understanding the logistics of traveling half-way across the country, toting two boys and three bikes. It would've been four, but I left one home, Wyatt's cruiser, deciding that I couldn't handle the tight turn around between cruiser and intermediate during quarters and semis.</div><div><br />
</div><div>Tired or not, it was worth it. I relished the time with my boys, and they raced like champions, together earning five podium spots for the weekend.</div><div><br />
</div><div>One weekend later, we were in our home town of Fort Walton Beach for a USA BMX FL state qualifier, where I whined to our friend Bill Madden, "I don't get it. I'm STILL tired!" He commiserated as he hobbled on his healing broken hip, which didn't stop him from snapping a few gates.</div><div><br />
</div><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhx9IW-MQ9ys43jfxx0HK42lPwy2Def88B5q8b734Az5drF-K4G7xeMg4u9x0Dl_ZRnN1bJR3r1PZTlLQWuBWbFX_IoBSDFlk8768D9q85noDHg578ff2I2pJHm7YWvR3IMwVDQWjzI4_g/s1600/IMG_0397.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhx9IW-MQ9ys43jfxx0HK42lPwy2Def88B5q8b734Az5drF-K4G7xeMg4u9x0Dl_ZRnN1bJR3r1PZTlLQWuBWbFX_IoBSDFlk8768D9q85noDHg578ff2I2pJHm7YWvR3IMwVDQWjzI4_g/s320/IMG_0397.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">As for the HTG monogram, you'll just have to guess.</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div>On March 29 the unthinkable happened, I turned 40. Vann and the boys showered me with cards, flowers, kisses and CAKE - home made by my favorite chef- Vann the Man.</div><div><br />
</div><div>At 4 the next morning, Vann drove me to the airport. I hadn't been to Wyoming since our honeymoon, where Vann got frostbitten on a deadly snow mobile excursion, and we were far too cold to do what honeymooners generally do.</div><div><br />
</div><div>It was time for #sistertrip2012.</div><div><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJFQcOlyv2qq9QRl-FHqsg9h7cbKeQ3_gVyu6mYPs-59CeQ8hdqAH2oivkuGjTYijTGyhhEDXzwoT9BungJO9OOvXg9LlZDt31JaxlmY84DGB20sBnzoRAcEjcgxn36aAnfbnZe4nfxSc/s1600/photo.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJFQcOlyv2qq9QRl-FHqsg9h7cbKeQ3_gVyu6mYPs-59CeQ8hdqAH2oivkuGjTYijTGyhhEDXzwoT9BungJO9OOvXg9LlZDt31JaxlmY84DGB20sBnzoRAcEjcgxn36aAnfbnZe4nfxSc/s320/photo.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div>I know I'm lucky. I have a sister who I share everything with, and she shares everything with me. Every year it's non-negotiable-- We're together for one week of sisterly love.</div><div><br />
</div><div>It's our sixth night in Jackson, WY, where we remember childhood summers sipping Shirley Temples in the Cowboy Bar, and long family drives through the Tetons. If I had to choose one paradise, it would be here. </div><div><br />
</div><div>My sister Wendy and I don't ski. We've been asked that question 100 times this week. Instead we play cards by our fire, and remember who we are.</div><div><br />
</div><div>BMX Mom</div>bmxmomhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09163408990177860415noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-564558119712877363.post-38255677970315999262012-03-11T14:40:00.001-04:002012-03-11T15:02:26.063-04:00Texas on my Mind<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFFcL0G9-4Q9PrOTmvcFeWkXqjSr4yNM0EEkIQZT2zT2IdqjRPzngjlqo4p4OV5kLeN_JkmAn545vB8MSXReJ3qXfO4_AKpgRqMklVkPGyRZ-8fyAYvjHLbofTten3ZgLU2tywYtfXf44/s1600/Papa-Mac-center.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="204" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFFcL0G9-4Q9PrOTmvcFeWkXqjSr4yNM0EEkIQZT2zT2IdqjRPzngjlqo4p4OV5kLeN_JkmAn545vB8MSXReJ3qXfO4_AKpgRqMklVkPGyRZ-8fyAYvjHLbofTten3ZgLU2tywYtfXf44/s320/Papa-Mac-center.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My Pa Pa- "Mac" McClanahan (center)</td></tr>
</tbody></table>I can hardly wait for Wednesday to come. Just me and my boys are heading west on a Spring Break racing adventure. I haven't spent much time in Texas; an aunt's funeral in Waco, a few trips to San Antonio to visit my sister when she was in college at Trinity U, and a spa trip to Austin. That's about it. Despite my lack of time there, I am 1/4 Texan.<br />
<br />
Although I hail from the Florida Gulf Coast's Redneck Riviera, where beer funneling is the #1 sport, my maternal grandparents were native Texans. I didn't know my Pa Pa, a leader in the Texas/Louisiana oil industry of the 1950s and 60s, but I know from my Grandma Helen how to be a strong-willed Texas woman. I guess you can say that I'm Country <i>and</i> Western.<br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJFsJaIkz6_N62x6va-OvcHiDw5-I8HAvqXn3Vnv-EEgsRFI6euuCeHHsrdUtxqh2aaP4Ve_dpaqKYBHzXWvs5yOoW2t9TMhwf1qaTpSFbSu3ZX-TO3yFg72uSPt5tFjmiE89JKvE14yM/s1600/Grandma+and+Mom+on+Right.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="316" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJFsJaIkz6_N62x6va-OvcHiDw5-I8HAvqXn3Vnv-EEgsRFI6euuCeHHsrdUtxqh2aaP4Ve_dpaqKYBHzXWvs5yOoW2t9TMhwf1qaTpSFbSu3ZX-TO3yFg72uSPt5tFjmiE89JKvE14yM/s320/Grandma+and+Mom+on+Right.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Grandma Helen (left) with my mom at a rig christening</td></tr>
</tbody></table>Throughout my engagement to Vann, Grandma Helen generously gave me sound marital advice: "Nod and smile at him honey, and then do whatever you want." Unfortunately for Vann, I put this advice in the bank, along with, "Honey, don't take any crap!" So my sweet husband will load four bikes, his wife, children, cooler and a toolbox in our Suburban and send us off to Dallas, while he stays home to work.<br />
<br />
I'm excited. The only thing I know about Dallas is who shot J.R. While we travel in unknown territory, I'll think of my grandparents and explore my roots, knowing they're with me in spirit.<br />
<br />
BMX Mombmxmomhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09163408990177860415noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-564558119712877363.post-8270013399008864422012-03-06T14:25:00.008-05:002012-03-06T18:39:09.581-05:00Going the Distance at the USA BMX Volunteer Nationals<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><i>"Reluctantly crouched at the starting line<br />
Engines pumping and thumping in time<br />
The green light flashes, the flags go up<br />
Churning and burning, they yearn for the cup..."</i></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><i></i></span><i></i><br />
<i></i><br />
<i></i><br />
<i></i><br />
<div><br />
</div><div style="text-align: auto;"><div style="text-align: left;">The first thought that entered my mind was that the 307 moto turnout in Morristown, TN, for the USA BMX Volunteer Nationals was amazing. If you weren't there, you missed it. By "it", I mean all of it---- the sun, the rain, the tornadoes, the snow, the noise, the dirt, the first turn treachery, and some of the greatest amateur racing I've ever witnessed.</div><br />
<div style="text-align: left;">The track itself seemed an improvement over the tight-turned tracks laid out in the past by the NBL. The short, flat first straight offered nothing; no skills needed, just strong legs and a bag of wind. Seeing this, my confidence soared for William, who has the leg strength of a rhino beetle. (I've been informed multiple times by William's scientific younger brother that the rhinoceros beetle has stronger legs than any other animal. Look it up!)</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;">We quickly learned that the ease of the first straight allowed for many expert riders to go into the first turn together, causing constant collisions and slide-outs.</div><div><i>"Reckless and wild, they pour through the turns</i></div></div></div><i></i><br />
<i><div style="text-align: left;"><i></i><br />
<i><div style="display: inline !important; text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"><i></i></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal;"><i><div style="text-align: center;"><div style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><div style="text-align: center;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> Their prowess is potent and secretly stern"</span></span></i></div></div></div></i></span><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoYce8JGkxDEPr5cIBQfJiFWxjFVZYc50jOtxNdpzkM3u0N6tm8-byNK2gYZBB40uRwM-j8nmuF55O3aXI4G7ReXIm0HOOpw1t553cBCTLTcsRolrEs4vdTCqdFaDF83VLzwNPxxrrz2Q/s1600/photo_15828_20120303.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoYce8JGkxDEPr5cIBQfJiFWxjFVZYc50jOtxNdpzkM3u0N6tm8-byNK2gYZBB40uRwM-j8nmuF55O3aXI4G7ReXIm0HOOpw1t553cBCTLTcsRolrEs4vdTCqdFaDF83VLzwNPxxrrz2Q/s320/photo_15828_20120303.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Cole Tesar, Felt SC Action Sports, takes the highline in a typical first turn scene.</td></tr>
</tbody></table></div></i></div></i>On the other hand, intermediates still intimidated by lippy jumps and steep rhythms, thrived on the track. Wyatt loved the track, only complaining that, "the first turn's a little bumpy". Wyatt soared through motos, quarters and semis in both classes Saturday, finishing 6th in 8 cruiser, and 3rd in 8 intermediate. Sunday, fatigue set in. Wyatt was unable to clear motos in cruiser, and crashed in his 8 int. quarter after waking up from a nap.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRGVvYOt6R3VyLEQOj6EFc-lsj2PhVXmsK7RBYJrK4d8HjiaPeTNxNyOe3kXe68e8af-yiazb4augh_8vCNerZew4MztQB3Jm42ymkkXzIfdShwYHA_Lr8IDhcibhFmu3zPJTVr_dbh3A/s1600/418000_3004507625029_1032520891_2815237_2019156621_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRGVvYOt6R3VyLEQOj6EFc-lsj2PhVXmsK7RBYJrK4d8HjiaPeTNxNyOe3kXe68e8af-yiazb4augh_8vCNerZew4MztQB3Jm42ymkkXzIfdShwYHA_Lr8IDhcibhFmu3zPJTVr_dbh3A/s320/418000_3004507625029_1032520891_2815237_2019156621_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">By Sunday, Wyatt had had enough.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>William had only minor difficulties in 10 cruiser on Saturday. After crashing in round one, he easily cleared the second moto and semi, taking a 2nd in the main, on the heels once again of Roman Jaworsky.<br />
<div><br />
<div><div style="text-align: center;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">"But he's striving and driving and hugging the turns..."</span></i><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwNDN38D2o_MmljB2ubW6zP1nSCUN5bXtojGPQRu7Hvq9fQHUVmqn1m9gQerIGmXHCdjGA_jdzShz5UQ-_rHKgVTbxr6evQQ348t6Ro6pbeIbYQB05g4UosYpKhHdmlsTX2rhGImRNvZg/s1600/photo_15835_20120303.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwNDN38D2o_MmljB2ubW6zP1nSCUN5bXtojGPQRu7Hvq9fQHUVmqn1m9gQerIGmXHCdjGA_jdzShz5UQ-_rHKgVTbxr6evQQ348t6Ro6pbeIbYQB05g4UosYpKhHdmlsTX2rhGImRNvZg/s320/photo_15835_20120303.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;">William's face says it all.</span></span></span></td></tr>
</tbody></table></div><div><div>10 expert was a different story. The top riders were all there, and then some. A rider count of 39 left no room for error, bad luck, or whatever else you want to call it. William drew gate 1 for Saturday's semi, and while he tried to push out and move over to a better line, it wasn't enough to get him a transfer spot. He sucked up his disappointment and became determined for day two.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><i>"He's going the distance<br />
He's going for speed"</i></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><i><br />
</i></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">William had a repeat of Saturday in 10 cruiser, again taking 2nd to Roman. 10 expert had him anxious though, especially when he turned up in gate 1 again for the semi. Fortunately, the gate gods were with him and his snap was good, allowing him some room to move over into his line, and safely transfer to the main.</span></div><div><div style="text-align: center;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">"Still driving and striving as fast as he can..."</span></i></div></div></div></div></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">William finished 4th in a disappointing 10x main. Don't get me wrong. Out of 7 racks, we're thrilled with 4th place. William somehow landed gate 1 again for the main. Unable to move to the right, his left pedal hit the first turn barrier, causing him to unclip and come to a complete stop. Two riders attempting to go around William in the turn, slid out together, while the two top riders crashed on the next obstacle. William was the first out of the five who wrecked to get going again, allowing him to take the 4 spot. "I feel worse today after that than I did yesterday after not making the main", William said. He couldn't stand it. He wanted to know how it <i>should've</i> been.</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">"In his mind, he's still driving, still making the grade"</span></i></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Because I've been strong-armed by two rhinoceros beetles, we will see you in the Lone Star State.</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><div style="text-align: center;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">"Cause he's going the distance</span></i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"></span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana, arial, helvetica;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">He's going for speed"*</span></i></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana, arial, helvetica;"><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span></i></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana, arial, helvetica;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">BMX Mom</span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: verdana, arial, helvetica;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">*Quotes from "The Distance", by Cake</span></div></div>bmxmomhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09163408990177860415noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-564558119712877363.post-21733138961058225882011-11-14T13:09:00.001-05:002011-11-14T13:12:42.637-05:00Florida State Qualifiers in Jacksonville: Great track, great friends, great racing! (bad SSA)The Florida state series is somewhat of a novelty to us. We've never completed a season, often unwilling to travel far south to Miami, West Palm, or wherever to attend the championship. The boys do love the competition though, so we try to hit qualifiers when the timing is right. Some might argue with me, but I feel that Florida has the most competitive state series in the country, with qualifiers typically having the feel of a small national. All that said, I'm really not a huge fan of the money-grubbing organization known as the SSA (Sunshine State Association). While I'm certainly not wanting to see it fail, I would like to see a huge shake-up. From what I've heard, there's just not enough love for the local tracks. From what I saw this weekend, there's not a lot of respect for the riders shelling out the race fees that pay their bills either.<br />
<br />
On a bright note, the track couldn't have been better. According to Vikki Wright, "...Donell did one hell of job." He most certainly did, Mrs. Wright! Thank you Mr. Wright for a job well done! I can't go without thanking Michelle Messing either, who clearly has a grasp on marketing and event planning. Great job! Oh, and Bill, I hope you figured out how to cook that frozen chicken. Many thanks to all of the volunteers. You helped make up for what the SSA was lacking.<br />
<br />
The SSA seemed to struggle Saturday, with what seemed to be some odd attempt at combining their system with the ABA moto system. Riders were called to staging for mains before anyone knew their moto numbers or gates-- unless you were one of the mathematical geniuses who happened to know the correct method for determining gate placement. The riders in the first 20 motos (2 of whom were MY boys), sat in staging for 90 minutes, as there was no announcement made as to what all the trouble was. This was disrespectful and unacceptable SSA!<br />
<br />
Once things got rolling, both William and Wyatt had great kids to ride against, making the spectating fun, and the podium finishes worthy. Not that my kids need anymore trophies, but at $40 an entry, one would think the SSA could cough up a little more than some medals that a little birdie told me only cost a buck and a half. Thanks for nothing.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeQUH_T6Tj9rq6fU1v5527_vQnEOeKANHTb3G15RVnQ1jx8slDBm3CFRey4G6c29wHSnTccd9MBlKu1BYG_hpOnQ3CdoIP2d3DQCBQe4_gpXXGME1OAjGeJoTXlGkqReyl5EX6r64bsf8/s1600/DSCN0287.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeQUH_T6Tj9rq6fU1v5527_vQnEOeKANHTb3G15RVnQ1jx8slDBm3CFRey4G6c29wHSnTccd9MBlKu1BYG_hpOnQ3CdoIP2d3DQCBQe4_gpXXGME1OAjGeJoTXlGkqReyl5EX6r64bsf8/s320/DSCN0287.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Seriously?</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
William battled it out with Joey Leto in 10x and 10c, finally grabbing one win in cruiser on Sunday. He gave it his all in 10x, and took the silver, only to have a DQ called on him a few moments later.<i> </i>Of course I didn't waste any time investigating this matter, with my curious son trailing behind me. Apparently, William was called out by the corner marshall in the first turn for crossing the white line. Ok, I've seen that line crossed a gazillion times with no consequence, which ticked me off. As this was just a SQ that we care nothing about, I took a deep breath, took William's silver from around my neck, and handed it to the officials and told them to <i>stick it where</i> ... ahem.... thanked them politely for their information. William's reaction? "I don't care. It's not like I won."<br />
<br />
SSA, if I could have DQ'd YOU, I would have.<br />
<br />
I absolutely can not end this on a sour note. The weather was beautiful, and our friends were there in abundance. The boys raced well, and I puffed up like a peacock overhearing parents who don't know me from Eve talking about the fast kid with the long blonde hair in 8 int.<br />
<br />
We can't pass up the ride time at some of our favorite tracks with some or our favorite friends. Expect to see us at the qualifiers in Sarasota and High Springs. I, for one, am looking forward to seeing some positive changes the newly elected board will bring to the SSA.<br />
<br />
BMX Mombmxmomhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09163408990177860415noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-564558119712877363.post-19410763313027981262011-11-05T19:01:00.001-04:002011-11-05T19:04:26.637-04:00Ride With MeMy kind-hearted neighbor told me recently, "I don't do Jesus." This tickled me to no end, as I thought to myself, <i>I really don't 'do Jesus' either</i>. Through all of my years of Sunday school and MYF, I never believed that a compassionate person, no matter who or what they worshipped, would be doomed for eternity to the fiery pits of hell. <i>Why would I worship someone who would do THAT? </i>And yet, my head is often filled with thoughtful prayer as I stand at the fence and watch my sons climb the starting hill to take their places in the gate.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVz5V38eBYijkSUFTM6eLejVWXt-2U9Gxqw-OMUlpiu_gthAH0bECd-AwxgqlPU_taR_tm3_bXXBXGYD7s1VV4yEeQCrEw4p_uNX0Pr-Ep4U7GUe_UA6VTwj2_L5xJQ_PaV29GAdPQgek/s1600/DSCN0267.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="241" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVz5V38eBYijkSUFTM6eLejVWXt-2U9Gxqw-OMUlpiu_gthAH0bECd-AwxgqlPU_taR_tm3_bXXBXGYD7s1VV4yEeQCrEw4p_uNX0Pr-Ep4U7GUe_UA6VTwj2_L5xJQ_PaV29GAdPQgek/s320/DSCN0267.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Emerald Angel</i>, Mignon Wolfe 1996</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
So, if I don't really "do Jesus", who am I talking to?<br />
<br />
My mom was an artist, painting angels and flowers and all things beautiful.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnpR-WvL1rvaW4PeSWeJFHlY6dS43Ny5koemjwYtrToMAMC6w9lPHYZlAgVJCq_bDqTobEYds4PYLBWV8U9_p9N03kgXx8DTti058PVIU3IhHczLbn3XhSBAo__WHi5sP9uf4KHLbZW0o/s1600/DSCN0274.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="267" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnpR-WvL1rvaW4PeSWeJFHlY6dS43Ny5koemjwYtrToMAMC6w9lPHYZlAgVJCq_bDqTobEYds4PYLBWV8U9_p9N03kgXx8DTti058PVIU3IhHczLbn3XhSBAo__WHi5sP9uf4KHLbZW0o/s320/DSCN0274.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>William's Firetruck</i>, Mignon Wolfe 2004<br />
On the back it says, "To William on your 3rd birthday. I will love you always, Mimi"</td></tr>
</tbody></table><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"><br />
</span></span><br />
<br />
She died suddenly one November when William was only three. Flooded by grief, one thought raged in my mind. <i>She'll never know her grandsons. </i><br />
<i><br />
</i><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-r_g-dXoNRcZ6Gy-rctDZl4ihK0jVN1uN-iXcBItTf0CcgSr79gZCD-9BC-wTEtoeFtnpNiR-gN2i8bnpGV5HRYVzFLUa1uwWBzoGmHNHmAyh9o3Ukto3iY6rz_QcgXi4O6VOjzGycKU/s1600/momatbeach.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-r_g-dXoNRcZ6Gy-rctDZl4ihK0jVN1uN-iXcBItTf0CcgSr79gZCD-9BC-wTEtoeFtnpNiR-gN2i8bnpGV5HRYVzFLUa1uwWBzoGmHNHmAyh9o3Ukto3iY6rz_QcgXi4O6VOjzGycKU/s320/momatbeach.jpg" width="290" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">William and my Mom, August 2003</td></tr>
</tbody></table><i><br />
</i><br />
I often wonder what she would think of them. I think she'd marvel over William's tenacious drive for perfection in all things, and laugh over my complaints about the way he nit-picks his brother. "He's just like your sister at that age", I imagine her saying with a knowing smile. How would she feel knowing her seat at our piano is now occupied by Wyatt, who, with his blonde locks and vibrant personality, is her spitting image?<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgg6qwGoYiGJiwwyQvM8hmkTTj15IX70_u6Tl50AnFSY930E1O6RcQYMIW-4L8XfrMuPNY0R1lkefzSHNvX-PMbEDBxeGDkLZV0mjjwcDmRkt-0YAHnLQ0Kg4Ev1CcdARXbouaCHICkFDs/s1600/momatbeach-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgg6qwGoYiGJiwwyQvM8hmkTTj15IX70_u6Tl50AnFSY930E1O6RcQYMIW-4L8XfrMuPNY0R1lkefzSHNvX-PMbEDBxeGDkLZV0mjjwcDmRkt-0YAHnLQ0Kg4Ev1CcdARXbouaCHICkFDs/s320/momatbeach-1.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;">My Mom and Wyatt, Mardi Gras 2004</span></span></span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>I'd like to think she'd burst with pride. To her, they would be the most wonderful boys between here and the moon.<br />
<br />
I wish she could stand by me at that fence and share the excitement and anticipation. Instead I send my silent plea. <i>Keep them safe. Ride with them.</i><br />
<i><br />
</i><br />
Seven years later I allow myself to dream that she is where she is meant to be.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0g00urhO5xMCvu-5Duz9-j_2Zy5l5U7fPN502sA0UrUO_lXEFkecfeV-TWxcbSC4H67UiG8v0O8I08aQNvciD5_LRMO9CgbkSV0zFkXvg-yD_P3SJatIv_RdXg4TPvXTFFGBZ5rCD9Gs/s1600/mom.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="210" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0g00urhO5xMCvu-5Duz9-j_2Zy5l5U7fPN502sA0UrUO_lXEFkecfeV-TWxcbSC4H67UiG8v0O8I08aQNvciD5_LRMO9CgbkSV0zFkXvg-yD_P3SJatIv_RdXg4TPvXTFFGBZ5rCD9Gs/s320/mom.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">BMX Mom</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div>bmxmomhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09163408990177860415noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-564558119712877363.post-10500164545200899502011-09-22T14:21:00.001-04:002011-09-22T14:25:08.788-04:00BMX Friends<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVHOmi21oLiKmtovDr2Lj80WrvQHJ9FD-5oJO4rFpnE6_GdH-BXPOWgP6Pev_c_r7tS2YukKKhetbpTi_kkowpfrPvWye3BJUyigIg_LlucuI60eHammuOKN7aqOj7FzNqaZU8NtaftkA/s1600/DSCN1811.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVHOmi21oLiKmtovDr2Lj80WrvQHJ9FD-5oJO4rFpnE6_GdH-BXPOWgP6Pev_c_r7tS2YukKKhetbpTi_kkowpfrPvWye3BJUyigIg_LlucuI60eHammuOKN7aqOj7FzNqaZU8NtaftkA/s320/DSCN1811.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Kyle Wyatt and Wyatt Parker<br />
Their first race was against each other when they were 4!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>Today I asked William who his best BMX friends are. "How many do you want me to name? There's Grant, Ricky, Gabe, Zach, Dylan, Joey, Carson, Cole, Brady...." You get the idea. When I asked Wyatt, his answer was simple... "Kyle".<br />
<br />
What's interesting about this is that most of their best BMX buds go at it with them tooth and nail on the track, with the most long-standing friendship/battle belonging to William and Grant Green.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirTwMaXsi8IXY0lT9IWGiKG17r8B-6LiXcnYpN3Er-gTVYYlCc2L_K6mYxPgzYaWIIO8CqawyM43tKPF4ac4H26EW6B8alfs80hKGmUdQFhX1s-Z3EmzqSMLYIfpoEOy2LLpWn5dePia8/s1600/7177.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirTwMaXsi8IXY0lT9IWGiKG17r8B-6LiXcnYpN3Er-gTVYYlCc2L_K6mYxPgzYaWIIO8CqawyM43tKPF4ac4H26EW6B8alfs80hKGmUdQFhX1s-Z3EmzqSMLYIfpoEOy2LLpWn5dePia8/s320/7177.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">William (left) and Grant Green- 5 rookies: Winter 2007</td></tr>
</tbody></table>Last weekend we raced the Alabama state championship at Circle City BMX in Dothan. If we had to claim a home track, this would be it. Being from Tallahassee, we feel homeless in the BMX world, and Dothan continues to take us in like a cute lost puppy. Naturally I coerced the Greens into joining us to give William some good competition, and selfishly, me some time to hang out with Grant's mom, and my friend, Mandi.<br />
<br />
<br />
William and Grant are the best race of the day in 10x and 10c. William powers out of the gate, but Grant's strength and endurance makes it a drag race on the last straight every time. Mandi jokes when William takes the win. "Dang! I told Grant to take him out!" "I expected him to run into William's back tire at any moment." I replied. Truth is, these boys would never do that. There's a long standing history of mutual friendship and respect that allows them to ride elbow to elbow, crank to crank.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSXRWFtdOVp2Rdd6e6gvV39hmoRKscVGkl-yLNjPQGB3yURKjj7NMLZMmIh_v2CcCIH1Zn5TvlNV6XE7YcbWZyvPNWgJI6AKHdAfe9FzgZqKbM58_Da-4k58Lw2paBDxfycl_dsTFNxl0/s1600/P1010013.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="188" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSXRWFtdOVp2Rdd6e6gvV39hmoRKscVGkl-yLNjPQGB3yURKjj7NMLZMmIh_v2CcCIH1Zn5TvlNV6XE7YcbWZyvPNWgJI6AKHdAfe9FzgZqKbM58_Da-4k58Lw2paBDxfycl_dsTFNxl0/s320/P1010013.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">William - gate 6, Grant- gate 7: 6 novice, Fall Classic 2007</td></tr>
</tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2hqSmY8ozRtLaiwyj2yJZnjHR3EPiNw_eeBqg5Ww65QH_eiSeCwvvx_ZZ4CgnC1KnavMh9fBNcaI1hNhsEv3j_zKlP3UEG0VFtS27vBdowztXmVjCHGYBKVyCoAeYXl_hbJ-gCD5oqno/s1600/bmx6.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="187" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2hqSmY8ozRtLaiwyj2yJZnjHR3EPiNw_eeBqg5Ww65QH_eiSeCwvvx_ZZ4CgnC1KnavMh9fBNcaI1hNhsEv3j_zKlP3UEG0VFtS27vBdowztXmVjCHGYBKVyCoAeYXl_hbJ-gCD5oqno/s320/bmx6.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Oak Mountain regional 2008: 7 novice</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgusZeTdg2xsOIDS2bocGKY0Ez5021_liP86oT72O7vfAXuCpwxIvzp9Spj7w1ul2XuKAXdeJC-V8SWQ5MrrSIJ6AvXXDbYVdj29TL3yiC7B8b-1qqUrMNZ_23cDsqKYpHqe_5L59wpByo/s1600/DSCN1804.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgusZeTdg2xsOIDS2bocGKY0Ez5021_liP86oT72O7vfAXuCpwxIvzp9Spj7w1ul2XuKAXdeJC-V8SWQ5MrrSIJ6AvXXDbYVdj29TL3yiC7B8b-1qqUrMNZ_23cDsqKYpHqe_5L59wpByo/s320/DSCN1804.jpg" width="259" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">William (left) and Grant: AL state championship 2008?</td></tr>
</tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghhyphenhyphen-WleBwv7VyP5qWD3eh4-DZT5M9gSxuxFkzDrTqw7yH0siSG4izEnEX9QUZp7-hP92mWte8TQoDmPKr4eHMmiiTbsaAuOF__C-TIfJ2nDGoy-zk5d2Pm8JjE5y-UmHs6odDIJXe2y8/s1600/267354_255392574486649_100000477253744_1065341_2777404_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghhyphenhyphen-WleBwv7VyP5qWD3eh4-DZT5M9gSxuxFkzDrTqw7yH0siSG4izEnEX9QUZp7-hP92mWte8TQoDmPKr4eHMmiiTbsaAuOF__C-TIfJ2nDGoy-zk5d2Pm8JjE5y-UmHs6odDIJXe2y8/s320/267354_255392574486649_100000477253744_1065341_2777404_n.jpg" width="242" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Grant and William: SE Regional Championship 2011</td></tr>
</tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_uQ_t9O_rHh2O_fXngB3Hrw_KeQ09zGHUiAOOdy-IfNQwI7sqvhDVsjG6HYT6L_UBMotZPQbHX_0RdpxolZ-pvklukQ3be_4nKFkMKC5rUbqcbumIrT7IDOba8N8YVDAViLqZjg-9CsY/s1600/296668_10150294119514118_262450694117_7894497_783894401_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="204" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_uQ_t9O_rHh2O_fXngB3Hrw_KeQ09zGHUiAOOdy-IfNQwI7sqvhDVsjG6HYT6L_UBMotZPQbHX_0RdpxolZ-pvklukQ3be_4nKFkMKC5rUbqcbumIrT7IDOba8N8YVDAViLqZjg-9CsY/s320/296668_10150294119514118_262450694117_7894497_783894401_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">William (center), Grant and "Little Joe" Herring (left)<br />
AL State Championship Sept. 2011 (photo: Susanne Dube)</td></tr>
</tbody></table>Wyatt got to race an old friend too. Kyle was there, giving it his all, despite the fact that he rarely rides anymore. As soon as those two cross the finish line, they're off to the woods or jumping in a ditch, looking for any kind of trouble to get into.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjurp139z_KXJfmRYq6eMCHC_QFspOYfXkmWV0LWbU3tv2rZ_z9gLIrFNnz0B5HrBrg4hk7y4Cf0lMBGJVCF-yzLHuzsQBLO0dCJ3i-N6ewb8A8bbgmdsM_r2mIjHcpRaD4VtFKSRoD9uA/s1600/DSCN2242.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjurp139z_KXJfmRYq6eMCHC_QFspOYfXkmWV0LWbU3tv2rZ_z9gLIrFNnz0B5HrBrg4hk7y4Cf0lMBGJVCF-yzLHuzsQBLO0dCJ3i-N6ewb8A8bbgmdsM_r2mIjHcpRaD4VtFKSRoD9uA/s320/DSCN2242.jpg" width="317" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">William, Wyatt, and the Dothan boys: Kyle, Matthew and Joe (2008)<br />
<br />
</td></tr>
</tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjux_mB4qap8FAg1M8oj-hwvQVkPPr6IC3HLjZCn_NTencKyz6rjFdv85t9JJ9GpQEAy4uMGeZwdf7fhigxb0hmVax5f_kcI21AHPa2_koV-LD0HEdM56kxDeYef7PhxceMkCZuFjSyZVs/s1600/DSCN2223.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjux_mB4qap8FAg1M8oj-hwvQVkPPr6IC3HLjZCn_NTencKyz6rjFdv85t9JJ9GpQEAy4uMGeZwdf7fhigxb0hmVax5f_kcI21AHPa2_koV-LD0HEdM56kxDeYef7PhxceMkCZuFjSyZVs/s320/DSCN2223.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Wyatt and Kyle (St. Pete 2009?)</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiq-V7dbvN2Eh-NreQpBl88Dlaw3wWbgu5zEEwdGhvm7NVL3aY4t8oS7q8T2P8zuRvV9daVxJ0_vZxjjM_VUx7rSuW3ZlZeVdE6zf_mQVBNd5TylMPM_SMrwohLn3FZ0ZjQrjwfjhkmuq0/s1600/300993_10150294113774118_262450694117_7894405_562671130_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiq-V7dbvN2Eh-NreQpBl88Dlaw3wWbgu5zEEwdGhvm7NVL3aY4t8oS7q8T2P8zuRvV9daVxJ0_vZxjjM_VUx7rSuW3ZlZeVdE6zf_mQVBNd5TylMPM_SMrwohLn3FZ0ZjQrjwfjhkmuq0/s320/300993_10150294113774118_262450694117_7894405_562671130_n.jpg" width="303" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Wyatt (#517) and Kyle (#31) Dothan, Sept. 2011<br />
photo: Susanne Dube<br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;"><br />
</span></span></span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>Half of the year, while William waits for his birthday to roll around, he goes elbow to elbow with his other BMX buds, Dylan Shipley and Zach VonBergen. On the track, there's no holding back, as these guys push each other to go harder, while always maintaining that level of respect that one has for a true friend.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrJWLfPeLpqc4Y95OzTQg-MMCZJsE4kZ6PI4yeOvKUouPxMDHh5rAdFkbMr8TQus0l-tKVRufXFaiK2MTJONSc7RWX3maerBl7Mo6bkX4XDphu79qfDqTaklcKBG7lAR3F85qZTg3SVVY/s1600/002_2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrJWLfPeLpqc4Y95OzTQg-MMCZJsE4kZ6PI4yeOvKUouPxMDHh5rAdFkbMr8TQus0l-tKVRufXFaiK2MTJONSc7RWX3maerBl7Mo6bkX4XDphu79qfDqTaklcKBG7lAR3F85qZTg3SVVY/s320/002_2.jpg" width="278" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Dylan (848) and William- 2009?</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9DJvaKeBU4l26OMsk9wy4sUG7OQSEb7qIUYc-N1URgaSsOLnkdDF4R6hl06VR4NxfQD5qbMnEYzcoD5kK6V1-YgK2EZg8aUyrVsIPXIDI4I67nL-LGQpyU_U1FEA1Z9Bq7b43IjKT-24/s1600/DSCN0088.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9DJvaKeBU4l26OMsk9wy4sUG7OQSEb7qIUYc-N1URgaSsOLnkdDF4R6hl06VR4NxfQD5qbMnEYzcoD5kK6V1-YgK2EZg8aUyrVsIPXIDI4I67nL-LGQpyU_U1FEA1Z9Bq7b43IjKT-24/s320/DSCN0088.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">William, Wyatt and Dylan in the Felt pits: Grands 2011</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJcuIuFx54YBLANi5Yzzt4DklkxCd-O1sCX-sqFQD8oIeQHRIQBSmZY_hKj1KWjSHrS2lHr0yCUgYJZlN3NkKA-oMgRjwoilmPo1qB6zDbSCdgZYfqwN6iAFPvsB7S3zP8iIAvQT_Olbo/s1600/DSC_1371.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJcuIuFx54YBLANi5Yzzt4DklkxCd-O1sCX-sqFQD8oIeQHRIQBSmZY_hKj1KWjSHrS2lHr0yCUgYJZlN3NkKA-oMgRjwoilmPo1qB6zDbSCdgZYfqwN6iAFPvsB7S3zP8iIAvQT_Olbo/s320/DSC_1371.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">William and Zach always have a great race<br />
photo: Jon Larson</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
<div>New teams bring new friends as well, and William being welcomed onto Factory Felt made way for new friendships-- not just for him, but for our whole family!</div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhblpM60xpgEyn0Dsz2POOQcC8ucUswlUclmP00cZjNF91hQv2-9D32-eSSHQu0G-f2WOhBygfBuEubJy_lQygJRnf4CGnjcBdBiYgSOcCV9HBUhlG_jnN4b5_l-URbUZ99-0Aytx_mdrc/s1600/DSCN4534.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhblpM60xpgEyn0Dsz2POOQcC8ucUswlUclmP00cZjNF91hQv2-9D32-eSSHQu0G-f2WOhBygfBuEubJy_lQygJRnf4CGnjcBdBiYgSOcCV9HBUhlG_jnN4b5_l-URbUZ99-0Aytx_mdrc/s320/DSCN4534.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">William and team mate Ricky Castro</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjz8smV196XMKDjMbCPl1gU8o9Y_AiGGYGzVqs_YLqDrSnkFX9y1Ot_LmHx5vdybg_0-ZTjnlifA6qXQQU7Hpqzmz3d0B8SzMZUodsAEI4mgaPMNLNYd1zAZh87j1txzaJk0PtaRwkIZ3Q/s1600/DSCN4483.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjz8smV196XMKDjMbCPl1gU8o9Y_AiGGYGzVqs_YLqDrSnkFX9y1Ot_LmHx5vdybg_0-ZTjnlifA6qXQQU7Hpqzmz3d0B8SzMZUodsAEI4mgaPMNLNYd1zAZh87j1txzaJk0PtaRwkIZ3Q/s320/DSCN4483.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">It's always a fun time in the Felt pits.<br />
William, Wyatt, Gabe Hatem and Coleman Habib</td></tr>
</tbody></table>I sometimes worry about Wyatt being the odd man out, or worse- the pesky little brother. He seemed to spend a lot of time in Louisville playing that part, especially with William's 13x team mate Anthony Catlow. As we said our goodbyes in Louisville and wished everyone safe travels, I thanked Anthony for being good natured and patient with Wyatt. "Sometimes William's friends think he's a pest", I said. To my surprise, Anthony smiled and said, "I don't. I think he's cool!"<br />
<div><br />
</div><div>BMX Mom<br />
<div><div><br />
</div></div></div>bmxmomhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09163408990177860415noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-564558119712877363.post-32654247894470892482011-09-06T11:12:00.001-04:002011-09-06T13:38:35.153-04:002011 NBL Grands: an Emotional Finale<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">"You build on failure. You use it as a stepping stone. Close the door </span></i><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">on the past. You don't try to forget the mistakes, but you don't dwell </span></i><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">on it. You don't let it have any of your energy, or any of your time, </span></i><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">or any of your space."</span></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span> <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">-- Johnny Cash</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Helvetica;"><br />
</span><br />
On the first day of practice in Louisville, I received news that has sat like lead in my heart, dampening my spirit, and weighing down the corners of my smile. Knowing that I couldn't share this with my son before his biggest race of the year, I shoved my sad secret as far back as I could where it still crept out to cloud my thoughts.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhk5vv14C_CJoUukFLq4aGn88itTecu4zjPNz5Up5nJZPNwnRFslqrLo7L1bZzaDBC17w1Y6aaT40khmJsu1dKBtiuhRX0pEZEavbNbd-wHneqJsmDsIQs36Vi59gBuWHSJPuVIeo75u_c/s1600/DSCN0131.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhk5vv14C_CJoUukFLq4aGn88itTecu4zjPNz5Up5nJZPNwnRFslqrLo7L1bZzaDBC17w1Y6aaT40khmJsu1dKBtiuhRX0pEZEavbNbd-wHneqJsmDsIQs36Vi59gBuWHSJPuVIeo75u_c/s320/DSCN0131.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Felt Boys and Wyatt</td></tr>
</tbody></table><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmLQljx0PrYdCZ3NvVSyXKhyOnex1MYtVLL-86aR3oNMTmxe7W0f8Zt7kxch_PkAA0Gp5wazczFgjWb1YBU8ZYNm6bZ2ZtkZIURaPg8Tb-iSX8TX-jlPMGLGQXWKtJTeS1DE2IpI8PXT8/s1600/298296_244300525607740_170149079689552_650942_1598573_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmLQljx0PrYdCZ3NvVSyXKhyOnex1MYtVLL-86aR3oNMTmxe7W0f8Zt7kxch_PkAA0Gp5wazczFgjWb1YBU8ZYNm6bZ2ZtkZIURaPg8Tb-iSX8TX-jlPMGLGQXWKtJTeS1DE2IpI8PXT8/s320/298296_244300525607740_170149079689552_650942_1598573_n.jpg" width="212" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Wyatt went 2-2-1 in motos<br />
Photo credit: Kevin McMeans</td></tr>
</tbody></table>It was a mostly joyful time in the Felt pits. We won our battle for scaffolding, and Vann, Wyatt and I thanked William for his "awesomeness" that afforded us this opportunity. He'd better keep up the good work because I don't think I could stand watching from the ground again.<br />
<br />
Motos passed smoothly for both of my boys, and all the Felt riders. Wyatt cleared quarters easily, but ended 5th in his 8 challenger semi. In the 8 cruiser semi, he went down with his friend and Schanewolf team mate Derek Wright, which was equally disappointing for both boys.<br />
<br />
Despite not making making his mains, Vann and I heard from several people who raved about Wyatt's improved riding. Vann and I are very proud of him, and he should be proud of himself too!<br />
<br />
Misty Castro and I hugged each other in shared relief after William and Ricky qualified for the 10x main, only to have our hearts sink for the Hatems, who were standing a few feet away. Semis are tough, and Gabe Hatem not making the 11x main is a testament to the fact that sometimes the top riders don't. We heaved a collective sigh after all the Felt boys cleared cruiser semis.<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlj1Bp5URQBU_isM5k55OjQSzLJtTXEExfbU1zPgwqmfuK_n0D_Fzzk3ACNPjOWUiAzFyg-MxAlPeKm4Qm3iyoOJ6-lcWITPdBwLUJFeW6OeVKA6aGv9lo7VjGGXdDIOZrlcfWSmimxAE/s1600/photo.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlj1Bp5URQBU_isM5k55OjQSzLJtTXEExfbU1zPgwqmfuK_n0D_Fzzk3ACNPjOWUiAzFyg-MxAlPeKm4Qm3iyoOJ6-lcWITPdBwLUJFeW6OeVKA6aGv9lo7VjGGXdDIOZrlcfWSmimxAE/s200/photo.JPG" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">As this video protest shows, Grant Green (10x)<br />
is across the line and going to the main!</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
As mains began I felt my stomach lurch and the lump rise in my throat. Our first Felt rider up was Marcus Christopher in 8x. This little boy is so skilled and so fast. We knew the win was his. Our pit area was hushed as Marcus crashed going all out for his win.<br />
<br />
William and Ricky loaded the gate shortly after, leaving me no time to offer a word of comfort to the Christophers. As the gate dropped in 10x, it appeared as if we might get our wish-- Felt riders in 1 and 2. William was well positioned on the inside, with a plan to sweep up to take the inside line on the second straight. All this was in William's head as he was sent down going into the first turn. Hurt and anger filled me all at once, and it felt terrible. Misty was there again. My sweet friend hugging me and shedding tears of joy for her son's 10x victory, and tears of hurt for William and me.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjA63R00g9iu-SeWzO9_nQCzUpfxQ3ezaoah8x6E4xZ7w0pcXJudtDRikfsjtHL76KXzGuaboBAugUhHgzQm__J3nBOnKUeFp8_sAAvOYtzWOZGS2hz8wmQz8dZnFd6lpQqK66gPb2Fa7c/s1600/320960_259245930772811_100000622190619_1045413_6115064_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="138" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjA63R00g9iu-SeWzO9_nQCzUpfxQ3ezaoah8x6E4xZ7w0pcXJudtDRikfsjtHL76KXzGuaboBAugUhHgzQm__J3nBOnKUeFp8_sAAvOYtzWOZGS2hz8wmQz8dZnFd6lpQqK66gPb2Fa7c/s320/320960_259245930772811_100000622190619_1045413_6115064_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">William dominated his 10x motos<br />
photo credit: Mark Mascara</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
Ricky Castro celebrated another national title with his win in 10 cruiser. Fortunately this was a clean race and William pulled 4th. He rode well, and Vann and I were proud, but William felt shamed and disappointed. His winner's heart has trouble accepting it, and yet he must, and move on.<br />
<br />
Yesterday I broke the news to William that his best friend Thomas, a kind-hearted soul who came back strong from a liver transplant, jumped our bike ramps, and climbed the trees in our yard, has been diagnosed with post-transplant lymphoma. He has been pulled from school to begin 18 weeks of chemotherapy. His mom asked that William please call and write to Thomas because they won't be able to see each other for quite some time. Learning of his friend's suffering helped pull William out of his black hole of self-pity and self-doubt that he's been swimming in since mains on Sunday.<br />
<br />
I found it odd that through all of the sadness, joy, disappointment, anger, relief, pride and resolve, my eyes remained dry. Yesterday in the car, as Don Williams and Emmylou sang "If I Needed You", the tears finally came.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPyuySsGyYJiSi0JuplqKAP1k9AdSNb54poyDFn8Q6uYzgrUkgMq3t4rT8DRiGNwkCncAQxhtAMuaGYhL8219rIJPxc6ePRah20WXVDJnWHqZimZyHOh4PpMmYo-iNOeXhT7VVMl1U6Ps/s1600/DSCN3620.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="259" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPyuySsGyYJiSi0JuplqKAP1k9AdSNb54poyDFn8Q6uYzgrUkgMq3t4rT8DRiGNwkCncAQxhtAMuaGYhL8219rIJPxc6ePRah20WXVDJnWHqZimZyHOh4PpMmYo-iNOeXhT7VVMl1U6Ps/s320/DSCN3620.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">William, Wyatt and Thomas</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
<br />
BMX Mombmxmomhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09163408990177860415noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-564558119712877363.post-30013549294151463752011-08-05T14:19:00.004-04:002011-08-06T11:42:33.030-04:00The National Bicycle League: A Grand Tradition<span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">"A house divided against itself cannot stand... It will become all the one thing or all the other."-</span></b></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><b>Abraham Lincoln, 1858</b></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: navy; font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-border-horizontal-spacing: 2px; -webkit-border-vertical-spacing: 2px; font-size: 13px;"><i><br />
</i></span></span><br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi07Q5uQkbhLnmeDNjadUVd-INnW-SY5tuXtmEF9y9Bm6c_zjHchTJ7lp13pe-vKNfTaEcIh5xeHja30QWn28vk0mmjLxflHbMYbRKsk0WIz9fXHClHtasG9gn9xuR5jg4nGhDYUJTW-oI/s1600/284760_2084519988726_1116909576_32219896_203514_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="148" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi07Q5uQkbhLnmeDNjadUVd-INnW-SY5tuXtmEF9y9Bm6c_zjHchTJ7lp13pe-vKNfTaEcIh5xeHja30QWn28vk0mmjLxflHbMYbRKsk0WIz9fXHClHtasG9gn9xuR5jg4nGhDYUJTW-oI/s200/284760_2084519988726_1116909576_32219896_203514_n.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Event t-shirt: 1985 NBL Grands<br />
Compliments of Christine Gurley</td></tr>
</tbody></table>Clouded by the events of the NBL's final season, it can be easy to forget its beginnings. Founded as a non-profit organization in 1974, the National Bicycle League would expand to become the oldest sanctioning body of BMX racing. Offices were first located in Florida, and eventually moved to their final resting place in Gahanna, Ohio. The first national series, the "War of the Stars", began in 1977 with 11 races in 7 predominately eastern states.<b></b><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7ac3aK15Oodz3YNzaEwEEammmkc-h3eYiqMh-gbUp0a8iEkcK4EYRdpa6ishDqWu1FM-AjQhalRBq2zO87d8LQC_hONswLK-KILeCOvO1ipKgp39N8ZmiidIu6SEuTiWzs05dxGV1ANo/s1600/230607_1021885379813_1005553715_30113832_7269_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="248" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7ac3aK15Oodz3YNzaEwEEammmkc-h3eYiqMh-gbUp0a8iEkcK4EYRdpa6ishDqWu1FM-AjQhalRBq2zO87d8LQC_hONswLK-KILeCOvO1ipKgp39N8ZmiidIu6SEuTiWzs05dxGV1ANo/s320/230607_1021885379813_1005553715_30113832_7269_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Pleasant Valley BMX- 1980<br />
Meredith Lidstone's first BMX race</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDK2JbTsLHLDk8aLKPXDFUQkGkwU7A48vtKm0a3SmXBOn8psk7qZBMjkIWp_-P8VCDPQRxjksu7yeY_RYn-UfVFNRWrfhFjUiwG3mDRFf3TVbBRBhzFPYvEutiIS0QhXDKinlncF-TG9k/s1600/198518_174752042576775_100001259424779_438511_3233455_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="217" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDK2JbTsLHLDk8aLKPXDFUQkGkwU7A48vtKm0a3SmXBOn8psk7qZBMjkIWp_-P8VCDPQRxjksu7yeY_RYn-UfVFNRWrfhFjUiwG3mDRFf3TVbBRBhzFPYvEutiIS0QhXDKinlncF-TG9k/s320/198518_174752042576775_100001259424779_438511_3233455_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">1983 NBL Grands</td></tr>
</tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWjCXo-dqNGb9Xq3-Kmt6wkdg2AJqJXy5TnJVVGK5mZ2ogK-fMpJ9zVauSrNBKD9NkJuMHpPO6Rd8BDpb1TohGkkqovmkmtaBwME13Y-XA3cnogzW10AiqMxeFgIxMiL4ZAzy0j8aQx60/s1600/n1005553715_30153560_2537.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="246" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWjCXo-dqNGb9Xq3-Kmt6wkdg2AJqJXy5TnJVVGK5mZ2ogK-fMpJ9zVauSrNBKD9NkJuMHpPO6Rd8BDpb1TohGkkqovmkmtaBwME13Y-XA3cnogzW10AiqMxeFgIxMiL4ZAzy0j8aQx60/s320/n1005553715_30153560_2537.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; color: #333333; line-height: 14px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">1983 NBL Grand's - Nashville - 16 & Over girls<br />
Compliments of Meredith Lidstone</span></span></span></td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBJTi1XapwaFUhLgTJCPY1rZ4WtIi-Ph9xgscJxaYrmjz9MbnTOQqCee15zoF-Bf_i8Q3WEYrQwUVPYreezjr8_3oHm4zcD5lHcUUtM-aLCZ_IvV12j2-EDXhJkN3kyjhOxhyphenhyphennf-cH0o4/s1600/Untitled+0+00+04-20.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="176" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBJTi1XapwaFUhLgTJCPY1rZ4WtIi-Ph9xgscJxaYrmjz9MbnTOQqCee15zoF-Bf_i8Q3WEYrQwUVPYreezjr8_3oHm4zcD5lHcUUtM-aLCZ_IvV12j2-EDXhJkN3kyjhOxhyphenhyphennf-cH0o4/s200/Untitled+0+00+04-20.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Wyatt training with Bill Madden<br />
June 2011</td></tr>
</tbody></table>NBL BMX racing grew into the hearts of young riders throughout the '80s. So much that several of those riders are still out on the track today. Riders such as Bill Madden, Meredith Lidstone, Christine Gurley and Darin Houston, with rich histories on the track, continue to set positive examples for young riders. They're the ones who truly know this sport, and have the potential to be excellent coaches.<br />
<br />
No one can argue that the NBL had a strong beginning with loyal members. In 1977, to document events and share them with the world, the NBL produced the first issue of BMX Today (originally published as Bicycles Today), the monthly magazine that covered all regional and national NBL sanctioned events.<br />
<div><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGHqXuNiOw6dv1Mn3PPtl_LCnHOh1Y-SmCdBTWmM_EltZ_ubt0YGJUkcOpzi99t63k-cWVqkOrP9ezCzu6HvI4eIl_qEj5Uat8a3r9zK3sEXKuaMF0GB1r7b3hOKM-07s_TooSBRH8ESM/s1600/bt8101.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGHqXuNiOw6dv1Mn3PPtl_LCnHOh1Y-SmCdBTWmM_EltZ_ubt0YGJUkcOpzi99t63k-cWVqkOrP9ezCzu6HvI4eIl_qEj5Uat8a3r9zK3sEXKuaMF0GB1r7b3hOKM-07s_TooSBRH8ESM/s320/bt8101.jpg" width="233" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Bicycles Today<br />
January 1981</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhytwLsWcoawWgZuDGVVRMXj6oSs27nptzHt9_AYFzZRyS-QfDdXDdUOvp3FZCsiYfhI2wzHujR9epItpcSCk-7flS25umjui5WDN6tXSQh_EuZTY73ZvD2wf9OoG1WkNITZNEL4OBweGs/s1600/11862_1235357877391_1032520891_736465_413786_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhytwLsWcoawWgZuDGVVRMXj6oSs27nptzHt9_AYFzZRyS-QfDdXDdUOvp3FZCsiYfhI2wzHujR9epItpcSCk-7flS25umjui5WDN6tXSQh_EuZTY73ZvD2wf9OoG1WkNITZNEL4OBweGs/s320/11862_1235357877391_1032520891_736465_413786_n.jpg" width="248" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">William was lucky enough to occupy a full page<br />
in the final issue of BMX Today- November 2009</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
After a 32-year run, publication of BMX Today came to an abrupt halt. It was then that things started to smell fishy. While information had become increasingly available on-line, as well as race reports and photos, there's just something about seeing it all in print, and being able to hold it in your hand, that was suddenly missing. Everyone suspected financial troubles and pondered the future of the sanction, but I'm not sure anyone suspected it would come to a sad end. In the meantime, racing continued, while the NBL awaited a savior.<br />
<br />
Enter Gary Aragon.<br />
<br />
At the 2010 Grands our savior appeared, promising to grow the sanction through a new fee structure. With large turn-outs at early season races, his plan seemed to be working. Cruiser and open classes over-flowed because kids could race as much as they wanted at no extra expense. However, by May 2011, the free-for-all was ending, and skeptics could finally say <i>I told you so</i>.<br />
<br />
The sad thing is we let one man sink our ship. Or did we? When the new fee structure was set, my family took full advantage of the savings, each kid racing two bikes all season long. Had we paid for all of those races, it would have cost us a fortune-- a fortune that could have saved our sanction. Therefore, I hold myself partially responsible for the ultimate demise of the NBL.<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; line-height: 14px;">"<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><i>... I found it kinda strange that there would be two different sanctions for a sport this size but really didn't give it much mind. As the years went on I became more and more involved in teams and had a chance to really see the inner workings of what the sanctions really do and the differences in their business styles. It tickled me to see how riled up some people got defending one sanction over the other and my stance on it was 'Who cares? It's just BMX'! I never waved a flag for either side nor did I throw myself in front of a moving train in defense of one over the other. NBL was in my backyard and that was the single reason we rode in the NBL. My position was that I was the consumer and as a consumer why would I wave flags or shout from the highest mountain that the product that I buy is the best product in the world and could do no wrong. I like Pepsi but I'm not going to stand on any street corner shouting out their praises.</i></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; line-height: 14px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><i> </i></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; line-height: 14px;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><i>The only result of doing something like that is you will create a monster that senses they could do no wrong, nor do they have to continue to win you over as a consumer.</i></span></b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><i>"</i></span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; line-height: 14px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; line-height: 14px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> -- Carlos Perez, team manager, Factory Felt/SC Action Sports</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; line-height: 14px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br />
</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; line-height: 14px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Under the guise of USABMX, the NBL has been "bailed out" by the American Bicycle Association. It's not really a bail-out though, but a take-over. Labor Day weekend the NBL will say goodbye after 37 years. Our final Grands in Louisville, Kentucky will mark the end of long-standing NBL BMX traditions.</span></span><br />
<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGcRAKBInGRORp5KsdykLCeQ9tD1T5pDienrkRldCI2TRn6LF8PVjP8xhZ7_EWpOF9mrURlK3dR_f4bFIuGYx-_MF_nhbGKHtk2W9YCyfyNu2Kbg7vg5s3Pnn8SZaxMKPNlUmVXav4kss/s1600/7122_151199272789_791707789_3516384_436459_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGcRAKBInGRORp5KsdykLCeQ9tD1T5pDienrkRldCI2TRn6LF8PVjP8xhZ7_EWpOF9mrURlK3dR_f4bFIuGYx-_MF_nhbGKHtk2W9YCyfyNu2Kbg7vg5s3Pnn8SZaxMKPNlUmVXav4kss/s320/7122_151199272789_791707789_3516384_436459_n.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Where all the kids want to be...<br />
Ricky Castro having his National #1 photo<br />
taken after winning 8x and 8c in 2009.<br />
Compliments of Misty Castro</td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 14px;"><br />
</span></span></div><div style="text-align: right;"></div><div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 14px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><i>"...The final NBL Grands or should I say the final USABMX/ABA Grands... I was hoping they would allow us to finish it out with all the traditions that came from 30 years of NBL racing, but just like any big corporation taking over a smaller company they decided instead to showcase this as their introduction to all the NBL families instead. USABMX/ABA will put their stamp on this Grands good or bad and make sure everyone knows who's the boss. There will be no more scaffolds dotting the front straight. Instead they decided to bring in their sponsored rigs and advertisers. For a first timer this will look very professional and neat. </i></span></span></span></div><div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 14px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><i><br />
</i></span></b></span></span></span></div><div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 14px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;"><i>But for all the teams who gave their blood, sweat and money into the NBL season this will only come across as a shun.</i></span></b><i>" </i></span></span></span></div><div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 14px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></span></span></div><div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 14px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">-- Carlos Perez, Team Manager- Factory Felt/SC Actionsports</span></span></span></div><div class="" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 14px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLrvwvmtkiQ3EAFs0r_9X7VC8bfOM0V4DoEoqGFRcHccH9C7cknN5WxPwN54lw9wYtPsneAe5Yu15j11l4TblbMtqsKeew7_4dHst6-RpHX0sP2lSk9sjRRsu5E5ygRbVFoAwDVxU-fQo/s1600/228897_252585454760531_100000272343035_1069329_8334115_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="238" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLrvwvmtkiQ3EAFs0r_9X7VC8bfOM0V4DoEoqGFRcHccH9C7cknN5WxPwN54lw9wYtPsneAe5Yu15j11l4TblbMtqsKeew7_4dHst6-RpHX0sP2lSk9sjRRsu5E5ygRbVFoAwDVxU-fQo/s320/228897_252585454760531_100000272343035_1069329_8334115_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Felt Skybox- 2008<br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; line-height: 14px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">"All the kids get excited when they join the team to hang up there!!<br />
It's status!"-- Misty Castro</span></span></span></td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
<div style="text-align: left;">There will be no scaffolding for us this year. A hard-earned rite of passage that new factory riders look forward to. All of us who have been devoted to the NBL were hoping we would be allowed a last hurrah at the NBL Grands, but it seems that there won't be much semblance of the organization that was once a thriving leader in BMX racing. While there is some sadness to this, racing will continue as always, under the new flag of USABMX.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; line-height: 14px;"><i>"... I think having one sanction overseeing the sport is a positive thing. It will bring in new sponsors and allow riders from all over the country to truly compete for a unified national title."</i>- Carlos Perez</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; line-height: 14px;"><br />
</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; line-height: 14px;">I would like to forget the NBL as it has been over this past year, and instead remember the NBL as it was in its glory days.</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; line-height: 14px;"><br />
</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; line-height: 14px;">Goodbye NBL---</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; line-height: 14px;"><br />
</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; line-height: 14px;">BMX Mom</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; line-height: 14px;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; line-height: 14px;">I'll be adding interesting photos as I stumble across them.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 14px;"><br />
</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; line-height: 14px;">Darin Houston contributed these two photos from a long ago race in Milton, FL. This track had two gates, and switched directions each day.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 14px;"><br />
</span></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcOCyvSEYo51B2d3Fq5n223XRk4qNR2YEExcBf1ROk7HSU3eNDJskV6nl6tHEJdSuGtacmt9YO11Aq4rnidFmcb2Xgmzu0MTApKLV2M_RNwQeKLbIaQSJ3-1DA46L86YmItcOzIMIXD14/s1600/229755_266722013341369_100000107167958_1263327_5752993_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcOCyvSEYo51B2d3Fq5n223XRk4qNR2YEExcBf1ROk7HSU3eNDJskV6nl6tHEJdSuGtacmt9YO11Aq4rnidFmcb2Xgmzu0MTApKLV2M_RNwQeKLbIaQSJ3-1DA46L86YmItcOzIMIXD14/s1600/229755_266722013341369_100000107167958_1263327_5752993_n.jpg" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSTON7icbdN2PXlASZPTgvO8YbKofs2xE5TIfCYOo5weEmSHZPlzTYYOIZd4AxVOLczWyRKxQFRh0tB10IKxxBdg82QoftoHgewRd-ebQnFMa35gD-y2mNRh3pWn1MVcYxtY7NKDCjCzI/s1600/229755_266722013341369_100000107167958_1263327_5752993_n_2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSTON7icbdN2PXlASZPTgvO8YbKofs2xE5TIfCYOo5weEmSHZPlzTYYOIZd4AxVOLczWyRKxQFRh0tB10IKxxBdg82QoftoHgewRd-ebQnFMa35gD-y2mNRh3pWn1MVcYxtY7NKDCjCzI/s1600/229755_266722013341369_100000107167958_1263327_5752993_n_2.jpg" /></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 14px;"><br />
</span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; line-height: 14px;"><br />
</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div></div>bmxmomhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09163408990177860415noreply@blogger.com2