Choosing Faith

A few weeks ago I visited a specialist about my left shoulder, the one that was broken in a cycling/auto accident in May. There has been pain in it ever since and my range of motion is limited. Over the months, I became aware of the fact that my clavicle on the left side was lopsided and sticking straight up into the air. What the specialist told me, that I had not even considered, was that it was not my clavicle sticking up, but my whole shoulder and arm drooping down. Apparently my ligaments were shorn through in the accident and my shoulder is no longer suspended at the attachment point on my clavicle. The only way to correct it, facilitate healing, and end the pain, is surgery.

I can't describe how much I hated hearing that. I gasped in shock as the specialist explained the problem and solution. The healing time after the surgery is six weeks of wearing a sling. I immediately thought of all that I would miss out on in wearing a sling for six weeks, activities like carrying the baby, holding my other children, cycling, snowboarding, and the small day to day things like dressing myself. The decision essentially came down to suffering along in my current condition, making do as I have been, or choosing the temporary pain and setback of surgery and the healing time associated with it in order to properly heal my shoulder.

I left the office heavily contemplating the choice. Of course it is obvious that total healing is the most desirable, but it is always hard to voluntarily give up freedom, even temporarily. By the time I got home, I decided to schedule my surgery for the dead of winter. The baby turns one year old on January 20 and hopefully will be walking. I can ride a stationary bike indoors from the end of January through March when I can start outside again. Hopefully I can get a few good snowboarding days in before the end of January as well. Shawn even suggested we take our bikes out to Red Rocks, NV to ride the weekend before the surgery.

Like all of life's experiences both good and bad, I immediately started looking for the symbolic meaning and spiritual lesson. I know that life is first spiritual, then temporal, so unraveling the temporal experience for the spiritual meaning is one of my favorite pasttimes. The thought that came to mind was the proverb Christ used in Luke 4:23, Physician, heal thyself.

I've spent some time pondering that statement and reading talks and articles discussing the many meanings and applications of that simple phrase. My mind settled on a visual image of a tangled mess I recently spent hours sorting out.

Let me preface the reason for sorting the tangle. Despite my aversion to handicrafts due to my sheer incompetence with making things with my hands, I agreed to join in a preschool activity exchange. Each participant was to make 23 identical lessons to exchange with the rest of the group. One of the activities I made was incredibly simple for those who are capable with their hands. For me, it was a nightmare. I had to shop for the craft materials and assemble "fishing poles" made of bamboo sticks, yarn, and magnets. Easy enough, right? Wrong. I procrastinated and dragged my feet at every stage of the making. Finally after several weeks of cajoling from the rest of the group, who rightfully needed the lesson I had not finished, I forced myself to take it on.

After assembling and gluing my fishing poles in place, I left them in the corner of the room to dry. Relief was sweet when I finished this project, so sweet that I forgot all about the fishing poles for a few hours. When I went to put them in their respective activity bags, what I found nearly sent me into a frenzied rage, and a whirlwind of tears all at the same time.

Yes, this was the nastiest yarn tangle I've ever seen in my life--worse than any failed yo-yo, cat's in the cradle, or knitting attempt combined. The reason it was worse was because of the magnets that all stuck to each other all throughout the tangle. My two and three year old children had a better time doing this than I think they'll ever have doing the actual preschool fishing activity.

It took me a few minutes and a few prayers to regain my composure. I was at that place, the one I recognized again at the doctor's office a few weeks later, the place I had to decide what to do. I could throw them away and start the process all over, try to cut the yarn and reattach it, or do my best to untangle it.

I forced a deep sigh to clear the negativity from my mind and sat down on my bed with my little ball of useless fishing poles. Shawn looked up from his book, gawking with morbid interest. "Why don't you just throw it away? It's too messed up," he said. "I put some serious effort into creating those poles, no way I'm just going to toss them. They are worth salvaging, to me. I'm gonna fix it," I said. Then he sighed the "whatever" sigh and shook his head.

Where to start? The line on each pole was 2 feet long and there seemed to be only an inch of wiggle room left on each fishing pole. The rest of the line was caught up in the tangle. All the magnets hugged tightly to each other, making any sorting difficult. It was close to midnight and the kids were in bed. Concentration at this level would have been nearly impossible otherwise. Determination took hold and I set about picking and pulling at numerous little knots.

An hour later Shawn said, "It almost looks like you're doing some weird Chinese puzzle." He was fascinated with the intensity on my face and the clicking of the sticks as the yarn bobbed over and under my hands. It must have been mesmerizing, because he was asleep and snoring long before the first pole came out from the tangle.

Once that first pole was freed, my determination doubled. My faith in the possibility it could be fixed doubled as well. My mind turned over the many applications of this experience. I remember thinking that I'd recall this visual whenever I was in a seemingly impossible, difficult, or hopeless situation and gain courage, faith and perspective from it. Several hours passed as my eyes became heavier. Progress was slow. I thought of my many ancestors who were better at handicrafts than I and prayed for their help. Finally another pole emerged, then another. Three hours from taking on this task, it was finally complete.
I couldn't help but feel at the time I finished that the experience was metaphorical to one or more upcoming trials or experiences I'd face. Whether my surgery is one, or any other number of problems in my life or the lives of my family, I have the faith that full recovery and an overall joyous resolution can be achieved. Faith, patience, and dogged persistence do a lot in creating positive results.

Now these stick and yarn fishing poles hold a special place in my heart. I learned an amazing lesson from them. Here's to surgery! :)

Celebrating Six Months of Cycling on SUNCREST!!!!

The thought of cycling Suncrest, which is a new housing development atop South Mountain, Draper, has loomed on the horizon of my mind since I started cycling in March. I didn't initially view it with anticipation. I associated the thought of summiting Suncrest, with dread. Reaching its peak is a sort of rite of passage from novice to semi-seasoned rider, though, so I kept the thought out there in the distance as something I'd maybe like to try, someday.

Suncrest is steep, 14% grade most of the way. To a novice cyclist, it may as well be Mount Everest. That's how I viewed it. I wondered if I'd ever be strong or fit enough to summit its peak. Last week, while on my morning ride, the thought of Suncrest rolled through my mind and I decided that I would find out. I set Saturday, September 11 as the day for my Suncrest summit because it is the six month anniversary of getting a bicycle and starting into cycling.

I couldn't have picked a better day to ride Suncrest. It was a beautiful Saturday morning; the kind that makes me grateful to be alive. Clear skies, full sun, incredible mountain and valley views and a constant, but not overpowering wind, kept me smiling the whole way.

As is common of irrational fears, it wasn't nearly as difficult as I had built it up in my mind. It was actually rather enjoyable. I realized in a huge way that preparation really does make all the difference. All those morning rides of 26-30 miles a day, prepared me for such a ride. I hadn't really realized the level of strength and fitness I'd gained over the last six months. Also over the last six months, I've ridden 3,179.49 miles as of today. The ride today was work, but it was exhilarating because I was prepared.

Had I tried to ride Suncrest sooner, as a new cyclist, when I was 45 pounds heavier and much weaker, it would have been a horrible experience. I wasn't yet prepared. I wouldn't have wanted to do it again as it would have been painful and brutal. Life is hard enough. Why compound the pain of it by being unprepared either spiritually or temporally, for the trials that come?

I thought about the spiritual aspect of preparation as I peddled toward the summit. Daily prayer, scripture study, pondering, meditation, recording inspiration and ideas in a journal, and listening to and obeying spiritual promptings really do add up to significant spiritual strength over time. Life is much more steep and daunting than Suncrest. Spiritual preparation is crucial to making it through.

It was worth all the effort it took to prepare on my daily rides. I felt great joy in persisting up the hill, ultimately experiencing the view, and resting at the top. Oh, and the descent was phenomenal! I know that daily spiritual preparation for the challenges of life, will also be well worth it at the completion of life and will bring great and eternal joy.

Riding Suncrest futher committed me to working harder at spiritual preparedness, not only for myself, but for my family. I rode Suncrest with Shawn. That made the accomplishment truly great and worthwhile. Finishing life with a close and committed family, united in obedience and devotion to God and having prepared through a life of service to our fellowmen, will be the only true joy.

The Reality of Dreams

I've been thinking a lot lately on the nature of personal revelation, and the way I mainly receive it; through dreams. Even as a child, my dreams were very vivid. Whether my dream was peaceful and fun, or scary and unsettling, it was lucid, vivid, clear, and full of meaning. I can recall those early childhood dreams as easily as those I had last night. I have always been grateful for the knowledge, instruction, insight, understanding, peace, joy, comfort, visuals of the future, and detailed premonitions I have received through dreams.

Over the years, and through many provident experiences, I realized that dreams are a powerful way I receive and interpret God's will for me. The information I've received in dreams has literally saved lives on several occasions. I keep a "dream journal" to write down my dreams when I wake up. As I come to consciousness, my mind is often filled with the interpretation of the dream. I write down the interpretations as well, knowing that the dream is important and impactful in the work of my conscious life. I have been humbled on many occasions to re-read old passages and realize that what I had dreamed several years prior, was fulfilled in near perfect detail in reality. I know that by being a good steward of the information I receive by recording and trusting it, I am further blessed with additional experiences and understanding. This principle is true for all. When we acknowledge, regard and appreciate our blessings, we are further blessed.

I have learned by experience never to underestimate dreams as a source for personal revelation. In fact, I have come to trust and count on the information I receive and I find myself praying for dreams that further my understanding as I study gospel principles.

Scripture also states that dreams, visions, and an increase in the Lord's spirit will be poured out on men, women and children in the last days. I know this is true.

Joel 2:
28 And it shall come to pass afterward, that I will pour out my spirit upon all flesh; and your sons and your daughters shall prophesy, your old men shall dream dreams, your young men shall see visions:
29 And also upon the servants and upon the handmaids in those days will I pour out my spirit.

“In all ages and dispensations God has revealed many important instructions and warnings to men by means of dreams. When the conscious mind and physical senses are released from their activity, the nerves relaxed, and mankind lies asleep, it is then that the spiritual senses are at liberty in a certain degree to assume their functions, to recall some faint outline, some confused and half-defined recollections of that heavenly world, and those endearing scenes of their former estate. Their kindred spirits then hover about them with the fondest affection, the most anxious solicitude. Spirit communes with spirit, thought meets thought, soul blends with soul, in all the raptures of mutual, pure, and eternal love. In this situation the spiritual organs (and if we could see our spirits, we would know that they have eyes to see, ears to hear, tongues to speak, and so on) may converse with deity, or have communion with angels, and the spirits of just men made perfect.” If we will learn not to be so sophisticated that we disregard that possibility of impressions from those who are beyond sight, then we too may have a dream that may direct us as a revelation.

The revelations of God are the standards by which we measure all learning, and if anything does not agree with the revelations, then we may be certain that it is not truth." --Parley P. Pratt

I can think of numerous times I know that I communed with angels and "kindred spirits" in dreams. Several weeks ago, I dreamed that Aura was getting married and I was at her wedding party. I was taking photos with my phone. When they drove away, I put my phone down on a table while I talked with other guests. A few minutes passed and I went to get my phone from off of the table. It was gone. I got on my hands and knees and crawled under the table, looking on the ground and in random purses and bags. I looked on and under all the tables, in flower arrangements, in the kitchen, asked people if they'd seen it, and became more and more distressed. I couldn't find it anywhere. I was heartsick that the photos of the wedding party, which were irreplaceable, were gone. I started to cry. For some reason, I called out for my grandma. This would not be unusual, except she died in February. In my dream, I seemed to be aware of that as well.

Within an instant, she walked toward me, looking her same beautiful self as I saw her before her illness. She asked me what was wrong. I told her I'd lost my phone and all the photos I'd taken. "Did you look in your pocket?" she asked. I told her I had. "Check again," she said. I put my hand in my right pocket and felt my phone. As I was taking it out to look at it, she said "Don't worry. I'm right here watching and helping when you need me." I understood the big picture of what she was saying. She meant that she was watching and helping with the problems and perplexities of the lives of our family, that she was mindful and proactive in providing assistance. I was comforted when I awoke moments later, knowing that she had in fact, visited me and affirmed her position as a spiritual ally for me and my family.

That dream served in strengthening my faith, especially of the future and in all the problems and projects I am working on now. I know that I am not working on them alone and that all will work out as it should so long as I am obedient and do all in my power, and trust God with the rest.

Due to a life threatening circumstance involving the birth of my ninth baby this January, I had to have major surgery. I was taken to the operating room and given a local anesthetic through a mask over my mouth and nose. I remember only seeing the room briefly before my consciousness ended. Once I was completely out, I was intubated and my surgery lasted four and a half hours. The first thing I remember as my breathing tube was being removed was a cough, and then I said "You're waking me up from a really good dream." I don't remember any of what was happening during that time I was out, or who was there, only that it was immensely enjoyable. Considering I prayed every available angel and ancestor in attendance, I have a feeling I was at an amazing family reunion. I fell asleep again after stating that I had a good dream. I think it no accident that I remembered that.

Several days later, I talked to one of the surgeons. There were four who performed my surgery. With all the nurses and interns, there were seventeen people present at the surgery, besides myself. I asked her about the surgery and if she was nervous about how complicated it would be. She told me that she had been perplexed about it. She knew it was very risky. She said that the night before the surgery, she had a dream about it. She saw how and what to do and followed through with it perfectly in her dream. When it came time to do it for real, she was calm because she said it was exactly like what she had seen in her dream. I knew it was an answer to the many prayers offered in my behalf.

Dreams and revelation are as real as the images we see, and the sounds we hear in our temporal reality. This film is an excellent clip on personal revelation and how to better tune in to it:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VPbDZnrxBLM

I've never liked sleeping, but always loved to dream. I guess there has to be some balance so that I wouldn't want to be sleeping all the time just to have the opportunity to dream.

So Long, Summer!

My favorite time of the year is slipping away. I love all the seasons and have favorite parts about each, but summer is the best!

I gained my love for it as a child. From sun up to sun down, my sisters and friends and I roamed the wide world of Payson, UT, engaging in such activities as catching worms for my road-side worm sale business. We hunted night crawlers, barefoot, in the mud of the neighbor's garden after 10 PM each night by the light of cheap flashlights. Nothing says summer like fat, wriggling worms between my fingers and mud between my toes. We especially loved floating, and racing sticks, and better yet, our jelly shoes, in the ditch to see if they would come out of the culvert on the other side of the road. My mom stopped buying those amazing plastic shoes because we lost too many. We had rotten tomato fights, threw eggs at cars (bad idea, I know), made neighbor kids eat or drink strange "concoctions" composed of all sorts of random organic materials, made up dances, chased the ice cream truck for blocks, walked downtown to go to the park or the movie and played truth or dare. Days and days were spent collecting and selling golf balls, spending our quarters at Mendenhall's Market on the table-top Pacman game, swimming at Payson Pool, riding bikes, playing every variation of tag, having massive water fights, sleeping out on the trampoline so we could go toilet-papering the neighbors and the homes of the boys we liked.

My childhood was really good. In fact, it was great! I really didn't start to hate living in Payson until high school when it suddenly seemed so distant from any real action. Life in Payson as a teen wasn't nearly as cool as in the happening town of Provo, thirty miles north. As a teen, I always complained that there was nothing to do in that small town. But, that's another story.

Because of those lax and playful summers of my youth, nostalgia has surely guided my parenting decisions about summertime fun as a mom. I live and love the summer the same way as I did as a child, with the exception of childish vandalisms. I have never allowed nor encouraged, and certainly, ever taken my kids to do any toilet-papering. As a parent, I have taken a more mature approach to summertime fun, but I still engage in it whole-heartely. This time I get to enjoy it with Shawn and nine amazing kids! We've had lots of fun without doing any toilet-papering!

Since childhood summers come only once, I vowed to make them count. Here are some highlights from this summer:


Triathlon season.

Sierra jumping from a 40 foot diving platform at Lava Hot Springs, ID.


Fishing at Flaming Gorge.

Cooperative play in a great mud hole at our weekly homeschool park day.

Ice cream while wearing bright colored clothes and pink flip flops.

Cycling a morning ride on a highway in Idaho.

Playing with friends.

Jet skiing at Jordanelle Reservoir for Christian's birthday.

Rope swings at Burston Ponds.

Swimming!

Floating the river at Lava Hot Springs, Idaho.

Christian jumping his dirt bike.

Goodbye summer! See you next year!

The Power of Creativity + a Plan = Amazing Results

Every amazing event, pursuit, action or result I have ever witnessed or experienced was the natural result of a masterful plan. Life itself is God's greatest plan, specifically designed for the ultimate happiness, growth and eternal progression of each His children.

I am so inspired when I witness the creative power to impact eternity, carried out through a purposeful plan. Nothing inspires me like the creative process, and the result such creativity brings. The purposeful design and beauty of everything from the universe, to nature, to animals and people and their raw potential for greatness, stir within me an unparalleled rapture and awe as I recognize the hand of the Creator in all. It is difficult for me not to feel moved to the point of tears as I walk through a crowd of people . I am touched at the beauty and diversity of the size, shape and color of each individual. God's artistic expression is evident in the face and physique of each person. We are each, basically, a purposeful, planned, and unique work of art. My heart also swells when I view beauty in the handmade works of man, knowing that these works too are a gift from God.

As we are each patterned after God's image in both form and function, we too are creators. Creativity is our birthright. Creative expression comes as naturally and deeply to each soul as the experience of emotion. This life offers each of us ample opportunity to discover or role as creators, insight into our individual gifts of creative expression, and a boundless canvas to impact our surroundings. All that is needed to bridge the gap from potential possibilities, to completion, is purposeful action taken on a plan. A plan is the tool to enact and unleash creativity from its potential state and bring it to a state of completion; the result.

Since creativity can be used for good, or evil, according to the will and application of the creator, intention and motive are critical. I have often pondered such results as the Holocaust, and the purposeful actions of terrorism, genocide, and abortion and traced the results back to the origin of thought, which is always the first step in the creative process. Thought always precedes action. When the thought is dark, wicked, corrupt and vile, the result created will always be as well.

The power to create good or evil is given to each of us. The creative power is meant to be used with wisdom, discernment, and an eagerness to please God. When our creative intention is anything other than the desire to please and glorify God, especially, when it is self-serving, it is subject to all manner of corruption. Enlightenment or entrapment directly result from the correct or incorrect application of creative expression.

With boundless potential to impact eternity, and the gift of creativity to do it, we are each prepared to complete God's will and build His kingdom. I am especially excited when youth recognize their creative capacity and engage in such a process. I got to witness such an action, on a grand scale, even, this summer.

One Thursday morning, July 15, to be exact, I watched as two teens created a plan that impacted their lives, my life, and the lives of the rest of my family. Aunts, uncles, cousins and friends also joined in the fun. They essentially impacted eternity for good. The result was such a memorable and enjoyable month, that none of us will ever forget it. The planning session took three concentrated hours that consisted of making a list of fun activities and experiences they wanted to do. Once their list was complete, they systematically fit the activity list into specified days and times on a calendar. Because the plan was so well thought out and incredibly fun, the whole family got behind it and greatly benefitted from it.

Planning session.

The calendar:



Highlights:

Rope swing at Burston Ponds.

Water fight.

Horsey rides.

Dirtbiking.

Zip line and Alpine Slide at Snowbird.

Jet Skiing and boating at Jordanelle Reservoir.

Hiking, backpacking and camping in the Uintah's.

Taking pics at Temple Square.

I love it when today's youth exhibit so much faith, vision, creativity, attention to detail, unity, cooperation and purposeful application. It inspires me, and reassures me that the leadership of tomorrow rests with the wise and the capable. The upcoming generation is powerful, good, strong, intelligent and fun. We were blessed enough to get to experience a preview of their power this summer. I can't wait to see this generation serve missions, pursue an education, assume leadership positions, rear children, and impact the world for good. It won't be long before they set out to work. They are creating their plans now...

Ulcer Century Ride

It's strange and exciting how "chance" encounters change or introduce new ideas that expand the vision, even the possibilities of the course of one's life. Friday morning as I was nearing the end of my ride, I experienced one such encounter. I was only a half a mile from home and stopped at a red light waiting to make a left turn. A white car pulled up next to me also turning left. The window rolled down and the driver, a middle aged man, yelled something to me. I turned down my ipod and asked him to repeat himself as I didn't hear.

He asked if I was doing the century ride the next day and told me that he had just registered for it. I told him that I hadn't heard about it. I asked him where it was and how long it takes him to complete it. He told me that it was 110 miles around Utah Lake and said he hadn't done it before as he was new to cycling. I wished him luck as the light turned green.

Prior to that moment, I had not thought of doing such a ride, but by the time I got home two minutes later, I could see myself completing it. Shawn was out front as I pulled in the driveway and I told him all about it. He pulled out his iphone and within seconds, had all the details of the century ride. That was it. I was committed. Shawn was too. I never would have thought I would enter such a ride. Something of that nature had never appealed to me before. Thinking back to the twenty five mile ride Shawn coaxed me into doing in April; I smiled at how much trepidation I had about it, wondering if I could finish it, and how much I've improved since then. Now that my daily rides are at least twenty five miles, a one hundred and ten mile ride seemed totally possible.

The day before, I told Shawn that I eventually wanted to get a new bike with more gears and better performance capacity. As I've now put almost 3000 miles on my beginner "Specialized Dolce," I have topped out its performance ability. For a higher level of progression, I'd need to start out on the low end of a better bike. On Friday afternoon, Shawn asked me to go for a drive with him to run some errands. We went to the bike shop and he had me try out a couple of professional womens' bicycles for fun. After I'd tried a few, and as we were leaving the shop, he said "So what do you think? Do you want to get it?" He was referring to the beautiful red and white "Specialized Amira" I tried last, the women's version of the bike that just won "Tour de France."

Despite my protests, and needless to say, he was all too excited to buy it for me. He was beaming as much as I was as we lifted it into the back of the truck. I was as giddy as a kid on Christmas. Shawn insisted I run and grab my cycling shoes and give it a try as soon as we got home.

Saturday morning, Shawn and I entered the "Ulcer Century Ride" together. The course started at Thanksgiving Point in Lehi, UT and generally followed Utah Lake down through Provo, Springville, Spanish Fork, Lake Shore, Benjamin and to the furthest reaches of Utah county in Goshen. I was ashamed to say that I grew up in Payson, and had never been around the backside of West Mountain to Goshen, Genola or Elberta.

2100 riders culminated at the start and were released in groups of 100 riders every ten minutes from 6:30 AM. Our start time was 7:30 AM. It is always thrilling to gather with such a large group of others who are united in the same positive purpose, whether it be cycling, pursuing an education, or communing with God in a worship service.

Within the first fifteen miles, the pack thinned out as the ability and experience of each rider advanced, or slowed them in contrast to the other riders. The first food/water stop was at the twenty five mile mark. We refilled our water bottles, loaded our jersey pockets with snacks, and had the best tasting peanut butter and jelly sandwich I've ever eaten. There were many riders at the first stop and a general feeling of excitement was present.

Fifteen miles later, the mid morning sun was blazing pretty hard by our next water stop. We stopped at the fringe of Palmyra and Lake Shore to again refill our water bottles. Shawn took off his helmet and doused his head with water, at the same time devouring a cup of ice. By this time, we'd seen a lot of dismounted bicycles as flat tires and other minor accidents forced riders off the road. We too had a ten minute delay earlier on, as Shawn got a flat tire in the East Bay area of Provo.

A strong south wind started picking up as we headed for our lunch destination at the fifty mile mark at Lincoln Beach in Lake Shore. As we were traveling south for a bit, we got to push into some strongish head winds, watching our average speed drop from 20-22 mph to 14-15 mph. By this time we'd seen mountains, farmland, swamps, and were again coming alongside the lake. We stopped at the top of the hill overlooking Lincoln Beach and took these pics.


It was here that I discovered my phone was no longer working. I could hear it ringing, and dinging signifying new calls and texts, but the screen was blacked out. Shawn said it was a sign that I needed to get an iphone like his and Aura's and Christian's. I love my blackberry though, and wasn't trying to kill it, but I think it received too much moisture from riding against by back for fifty miles.

The number of other riders who culminated at the lunch spot, when we were there, had reduced by half or more since the first stop. There were many riders with their shoes off, sprawled on the grass under shaded pavilions. Talk of fatigue, sore muscles, and an appreciation for a plate of pasta marinara seemed to be the conversation I heard the most. I also started to hear some negative and gloomy conjectures as many realized that they were not, technically, yet to the halfway point of the 110 mile ride. Shawn suggested we keep our stop brief before our muscles cooled and stiffness set in. We rolled out again within twenty minutes again fueled, water refilled, and our pockets full of snacks.

The next five miles, as we rounded the lake, were rather enjoyable. We laughed and marveled at the beauty of the lake, sky, and mountains. We played and took pics of each other with Shawn's iphone as we rode. This playfulness and the positivity it produced, was just what we needed to rely on, as the level of difficulty suddenly and unexpectedly increased on the backside of West Mountain.

Dark and brooding clouds rolled in accompanied by strong gusts of wind. Gusts of 60+ mph pounded us, threatening to tip our bikes. Many riders were dismounted and sitting, or walking their bicycles. Our average speed dropped to 7-9 mph over a 12 mile section of the ride through Goshen and Genola. I don't mind pushing into headwinds, but the crosswinds are the most dreaded and dangerous. It appeared that all the riders were tilted several degrees as the winds bent the straight line trajectory we tried to maintain. I watched as riders all around me opted out of the ride, instead choosing to rack their bikes on a support truck and climb in back to be shuttled back to the start. I too mentally explored the possibility of quitting, before grasping the hope of the realization that if I could keep pushing on through the crosswinds, I'd eventually meet up with Highway 68 and turn north. At that juncture, those strong south and brutal winds would be beneficial to me as they would then be at my back. I bent lower on the handle bars and committed myself to reach Highway 68.

My mantra became 68, 68, 68, as I tried to apply some sort of cadence to it to keep turning the pedals. Headphones weren't allowed as per the rules of the ride and it was there I realized how important music really is as a tool of motivation and a source of strength, as it can be such a connection to the Divine. I sang to myself as it was my only option. The winds continued to increase and our forward progress dropped again markedly as our average speed dropped to 5 mph. I found myself thinking about my Hugenot, Pilgrim, and Pioneer ancestry and the difficulties they faced and how my little ride was so miniscule in comparison. I also thought of the Tour de France, that consists of 21 back to back days of 110 mile rides and how it is a competitive race where every moment demands top performance. Surely I could finish this one little ride.

With three miles to the next food/water stop at the 70 mile mark, we passed a gas station in Genola where a family sat in lawn chairs out front. They did the wave as we passed and cheered loudly for us. I thanked them as we passed as their encouragement really helped me keep going. We were so excited to see that the food/water stop we reached was located at the corner of the intersection marking Highway 68!

By this time, we had burned over 4500 calories and were so grateful to refuel and start heading north. Again, we alotted twenty minutes at the stop and returned to the road. Just as we expected, the fierce wind at our backs propelled our average speed to 25-30 mph. For a stretch of twenty miles, it felt as though we were flying.
We started to notice that many single riders had their own "support vehicles" as cars full of family and friends sidled up next to them offering encouragement, food, or water. I thought of how crucial and beneficial real life support is to any and every person, whether it comes from loved ones in this mortal sphere or from the spirit world beyond. I also felt grateful to be riding along side Shawn, undertaking the challenge together.

With every revolution of the pedals, my gratitude for health, vitality and physical capacity, and for the opportunity to ride, surged through me. Several times the mental clarity I achieved, coupled with strong physical exertion, produced the sensation of chills over my entire body. I love that feeling. I especially love the tingling in my face and particularly my lips, after I have been sprinting up a hill in an anaerobic push to the top. When I again return to my seat and my regular breathing pattern, a rush of oxygen flows back into my face causing a sublime, even spiritual catharsis.

My mind rolled over many truths I've often pondered while riding. I thought of the power of attitude. When I am faced with strong winds, steep hills, or cold or daunting weather while riding, I smile. Months ago, it occurred to me that I had the power to influence all I publicly encountered from other cyclists, and passersby, to the motorists alongside me. I could create a positive or negative feeling associated with cycling in the minds of those people through the expressions and demeanor I chose. I consciously decided to wear a smile. Granted, sometimes it is broad and toothy, and sometimes faint and demure, but always a smile. I've swallowed a few bugs on those broad and toothy days, but it was worth it, I think. I would hate to discourage someone from taking up such an enjoyable and challenging pursuit by making it look miserable. This is also how I choose to do life. I want my love of it and my gratitude for it, to be easily recognizable and contagious.

By the time we reached the final water stop and ten miles to the finish, just a handful of other cyclists were present. It was blustery and dark clouds threatened rain. We took ten minutes to snack and collect ourselves mentally for the final push to the finish. That final stretch seemed the longest. It was there I experienced a real appreciation for endurance and what it means. I thought of all the elderly people I know and how the storms of life have crushed down on them over the duration of their years. The measure of endurance they have achieved through life's difficulties is commendable. I too hope to emulate the positivity and strength so many family members, friends, and mentors both young and old, have shown me by the example of their lives.

Six hours and forty two minutes and 6500 calories burned since the start, we crossed the finish line. We kept riding until we reached the awaiting pasta buffet. Fettucini Alfredo and bread sticks never tasted so good. I was glad to have arrived, but saddened that the number of riders finishing had decreased so much since the start. I was again reminded and convicted of the work I have to do to continue educating, inspiring and uniting my family. It is my greatest desire to achieve this purpose; to endure out the difficulties of life, to finish strong, and together.

I think I will do another century ride. It was enjoyable and worth it. Perhaps I am training for something bigger, a cross country ride some years in the future...