A Wet Winning Weekend at the USA BMX Dixieland Nationals

The rain was falling Saturday morning as we huddled under the Felt tents.

Sam Brown dominated 16 girls
Photo credit: Mike Carruth

"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!"

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.

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.

Semis were thankfully uneventful. Everyone under the Felt tent easily moved on to their respective mains.

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.

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.

Not long after, William was on the hill for 10x. He shot out of gate 4, and never looked back.

I lost it.

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.

I screamed my head off as William brought in his first USA BMX national win.

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.

I hugged him. "I won!" He said.

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".

Indeed it was. With Sunday's race cancelled due to weather, we left Atlanta on a high note.

I won, I heard William say to himself in the car. I WON.

Look out England, here we come!

BMX Mom

Will Power

It'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.
One month from today, William will take on the world in Birmingham, England.

An edited repost of 

Sometimes They Fall: a Story of Courage

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 Out of the Flames with my book club ladies. Vann took the boys to practice and join in the fun.

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."

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. Hurry. Hurry.

I saw the ambulance first.

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.

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.

"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.

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.)

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.

William has been the cause of the longest hours of my life: first, his laborious natural birth, then, this. Time stood still as I fidgeted restlessly and made necessary phone calls.

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 spica, 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.

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. 

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.

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?

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.

William spent his days in a chair in our living room where he was most comfortable. He would doze off while reading BMX Today or BMXer, 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.

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.

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.

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:

You can not change what has happened.

You can decide whether to be weak or strong, or negative or positive.

I sat straight up in bed and vowed right then to end the pity party.

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.

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.)

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.

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!" Being able to move around a bit helped ease the disappointment of still being in a cast. 

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. 

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, 

and rode again.

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:

Will Power

It suits him, don't you think?

BMX Mom

Even a BMX Mom Needs a Break

I'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---

I would've never made it without Rick Castro,
dad of William's Felt team mate Ricky, who promptly
changed the tube I blew up in William's cruiser.

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.

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.

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.

As for the HTG monogram, you'll just have to guess.

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.

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.

It was time for #sistertrip2012.

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.

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. 

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.

BMX Mom

Texas on my Mind

My Pa Pa- "Mac" McClanahan (center)

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.

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 and Western.

Grandma Helen (left) with my mom at a rig christening

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.

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.

BMX Mom

Going the Distance at the USA BMX Volunteer Nationals

"Reluctantly crouched at the starting line
Engines pumping and thumping in time
The green light flashes, the flags go up
Churning and burning, they yearn for the cup..."

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.

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!)

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.

"Reckless and wild, they pour through the turns

Their prowess is potent and secretly stern"

Cole Tesar, Felt SC Action Sports, takes the highline in a typical first turn scene.

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.

By Sunday, Wyatt had had enough.

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.

"But he's striving and driving and hugging the turns..."

William's face says it all.

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.

"He's going the distance
He's going for speed"

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.

"Still driving and striving as fast as he can..."

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 should've been.

"In his mind, he's still driving, still making the grade"

Because I've been strong-armed by two rhinoceros beetles, we will see you in the Lone Star State.

"Cause he's going the distance

He's going for speed"*

BMX Mom

*Quotes from "The Distance", by Cake

Florida 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.

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.

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!

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.

Seriously?

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. 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 stick it where ... ahem.... thanked them politely for their information. William's reaction? "I don't care. It's not like I won."

SSA, if I could have DQ'd YOU, I would have.

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.

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.

BMX Mom

Ride With Me

My kind-hearted neighbor told me recently, "I don't do Jesus." This tickled me to no end, as I thought to myself, I really don't 'do Jesus' either. 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. Why would I worship someone who would do THAT? 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.

Emerald Angel, Mignon Wolfe 1996

So, if I don't really "do Jesus", who am I talking to?

My mom was an artist, painting angels and flowers and all things beautiful.

William's Firetruck, Mignon Wolfe 2004
On the back it says, "To William on your 3rd birthday. I will love you always, Mimi"

She died suddenly one November when William was only three. Flooded by grief, one thought raged in my mind. She'll never know her grandsons. 

William and my Mom, August 2003

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?

My Mom and Wyatt,  Mardi Gras 2004

I'd like to think she'd burst with pride. To her, they would be the most wonderful boys between here and the moon.

I wish she could stand by me at that fence and share the excitement and anticipation. Instead I send my silent plea. Keep them safe. Ride with them.


Seven years later I allow myself to dream that she is where she is meant to be.

BMX Mom