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! :)

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...

The Power of the Playlist

On my ride, I thought about the music on my "Amy's Workout" playlist, which is what I listen to while cycling. I laughed pretty hard as I realized just how cheesy some of the stuff is that inspires me. First, I noticed a trend in that I have many songs that come from dance movies of the 80's and 90's. Well, I was a child of the 80's, so that explains a lot. Many of the dance movies, whose music now tops my playlist, I have never seen as they were rated R. So having never even seen many of the movies, why do they inspire me? I think it is because of the feelings instilled in me that directly stems from the way I dream. In my dreams, I often see myself running over mountain tops at top speed, scarcely touching earth's surface, leaping over canyons, flying upward and soaring all around. I feel inspired, limitless, and powerful when I have those dreams and the lyrics of some of those cheesy 80's songs remind me of those sensations. I have often wondered if the people who are drawn to flight and extreme physical activities that produce such amazing sensations, have a little memory or fondness for what transportation was like in heaven. Maybe we miss it and do all we can to simulate it in our temporal existence :) Some of the songs that evoke those sensations for me are:

"What A Feeling" by Irene Cara from the movie "Fame" (Forbidden 80's movie. Never seen it.) The lyrics say "Now I hear the music, close my eyes, I am rhythm, in a flash it takes hold of my heart, what a feeling, bein's believin', I can have it all now I'm dancing for my life, take your passion, and make it happen, pictures come alive, now I'm dancing through my life, what a feeling!" I have loved that song since I was about 10 years old.

"Footloose" and "I'm Free" by Kenny Loggins--just the titles alone speak to me, a free spirited freedom lover. They were both from the "Footloose" movie soundtrack. "Footloose" was filmed in my hometown of Payson, UT when I was in grade school. I clearly remember the summer when movie crews took over the town. I have a split second cameo at the beginning as the camera zooms down Utah Avenue, the "main drag" of town where my house was located. My grandpa was walking toward his truck parked outside my house, so he's in the shot too. Little did I know that years later I'd be so involved with film, called to make movies. Funny how life works out.

"Dancing in Heaven" by Orbital Bee Bop from the 80's movie "Girls Just Wanna Have Fun." Ok saw this one as middle schooler. It was pretty irreverent, much too irreverent for my tastes now. A fun fact about this movie was that it was the big break for LDS dancer/actor, Darryl Yeager who plays the dancer in the black muscle shirt in the Dtv audition scene. Darryl now owns and operates Oddyssey Dance Repertory Theater in SLC.

More recent dance movie music:

"We're Dancing" by PYT from the "Center Stage" soundtrack. Love the lyrics, "There's a passion inside An inner strength that drives Can't nobody take that away from you It's the greatest high You set the floor on fire When you come alive"

"Higher Ground" by Red Hot Chili Peppers, which could be their most spiritual song. It was also featured in "Center Stage" with lyrics that say "Gonna keep on tryin' Till I reach my highest ground...Whew! Till I reach my highest ground No one's gonna bring me down Oh no Till I reach my highest ground Don't you let nobody bring you down (they'll sho 'nuff try) God is gonna show you higher ground He's the only friend you have around"

Other stuff that just inspires me:

"All Fired Up" by Pat Benatar. Again, I am a child of the 80's enough said. Also, I do really like the lyrics "Livin' with my eyes closed, goin' day to day I never knew the difference, I never cared either way Lookin' for a reason, searchin' for a sign Reachin' out with both hands, I gotta feel the kick inside All Fired Up Now I believe there comes a time When everything just falls in line We live an' learn from our mistakes The deepest cuts are healed by faith."

"Whip It" by Devo. A true motivational, and 80's classic.

"Elevation" by U2. Love this line "Can't sing but I've got soul." It totally sums me up!

"Beautiful Day" by U2. Who's not inspired by this song? "What you don't have you don't need it now What you don't know you can feel it somehow What you don't have you don't need it now Don't need it now Was a beautiful day"

"Learning to Fly" by Foo Fighters. Reminds me of paragliding in Mexico, thermalling toward the sun. Love all the sensations that go with those memories.

Stuff I like because it's funky and it makes me smile:

"If Everybody Looked the Same" by Groove Armada

"Hot and Cold" by Katy Parry. I think the irony makes me laugh. This is one that has to be listened to from the beginning, clear until the end. "Katy, do you take Alexander to be your lawfully wedded husband? I do. Alexander, do you take Katy to be your lawfully wedded wife? Long Silence....Alexander? Silence, then the song, then after the song...."Alexander, do you? Silence. "I do." Cheers and applause.

"Freestyler" by Bom Funk MC

"Can't Stop the Rock"

"Pump Up the Volume" by MARRS. This song encapsulates that teen/highschool era.

"No Limits" I don't even know who this is by and it is total electronica. Definitely "Jock Jams" fodder. It just happened to play at a life training seminar that Shawn and I staffed while we were dating. We were dancing on a table. Great memories! "There's no limits, so reach for the sky, no valley's too deep, no mountain too high, no limits."

Stuff influenced by my teen kids:

"All the Above" by Maino. "Tell me what do you see When you looking at me On a mission to be What I'm destined to be I done been through the pain and the sorrow The struggle is nothing but love I'm a soldier, a rider, a ghetto survivor And all the above All the above How the heck could you stop me? Why in the world would you try? I go hard forever, That's just how I'm designed, That's just how I was built See the look in my eyes? You take all of this from me, And I'm still gon' survive You get truth from me" (Christian)

"Down" by Jay Sean (Aura)

"Like Whoa" by Aly and AJ (Sierra)

I just remembered that I forgot to add my favorite song in the world to my playlist! I LOVE "Symphony #9 in D Minor: Ode to Joy" by Beethoven. I am deeply moved and inspired every time I hear it. I think it is literally what heaven sounds and feels like. It makes me want to be an orchestra conductor everytime I hear it, and I'm not even musical! I'm going to add it right now. Done. Tomorrow's workout will be that much better!

Music is such a powerful force to inspire or debase. I have to have positive, uplifting, clean and inspiring music in order to have any kind of power to do difficult physical activities. Music that is any less than that is very draining, mentally and physically, as well as soul numbing. If the music isn't right, I can literally feel a physical shut down, a weakening of my overall capacity.

4 Days Post Crash: Again Enjoying the Ride

So, initially I said it would be 4-6 weeks of "at home on an indoor trainer" before going back outside to ride. Since I have never been hit by a car and broken my clavicle before, I honestly thought that 4-6 weeks of healing sounded reasonable. But, that was before I knew what Heavenly Father wanted me to learn from the crash experience and that the position of my arms on the handle bars actually HELP the healing of my broken clavicle. I didn't know that 4 days would be sufficient. With that said, it is easy to see why I decided to return to my outdoor ride today.

I'm still high on the experience as I just got back from my regular 20 mile ride. I started out on the trainer, and I tried to stay content with it, but it was all wrong. Sunny days and good health are meant to be spent OUTSIDE. Heck, I ride on the blustery, cold and gray days where I seldom see another rider, so looking out the window on a gorgeous day like today and knowing that I have the physical capacity to ride, I couldn't stand being restrained any longer. Having mentally ridden my route as I pedaled on the trainer yesterday, and knowing that my shoulders can handle it, there was just no other reason to remain stuck on an indoor trainer another day. It was just time to get back outside. There is just no replacement for the sun, wind, hills, people, all that natural beauty beyond the walls of my living room.

Shawn was skittish and offered his concern over my decision to have him take my bike off the training block. I know that he could see the passion and determination in my eyes and conceded with a question. Are you sure you can do it? Of course I was. He lifted the bike off the trainer and brought it out on the lawn for me. He waved half heartedly as I pedaled down the street, head bowed and shaking, probably praying silently. I was. I thanked God for His goodness at granting me physical health. I was also shining the broadest smile I've mustered this week.

My ride was a phenomenal, incredible, awesome, amazing...all the great adjectives! I beat my previous best time on my 20 mile route by five minutes and burned more calories than usual. I know it was because I was so excited, grateful, and fired up about riding; about experiencing freedom after the temporary loss of it.

It is nothing short of a miracle that I could be hit by a car on Tuesday and experience a broken clavicle, and be able to return to my normal rides on Saturday of the same week. I have experienced and am grateful for the Lord's tender mercies. I feel very blessed indeed. At the time of this writing, my normal range of motion has almost completely returned for my left arm--the one with the broken clavicle. Pain is minimal and I feel an overall presence of healing.

Part of my decision to get back out on my bike so quickly after such an accident was about being an example of faith and fortitude to my children. I am all too aware of the fact that example is the best teacher, far more powerful than words. There was so much I wanted to convey to them about pressing on with a good attitude, especially in the face of pain and misery. What better way to teach this lesson than to live it? I know they will be required to do difficult things over the course of their lives and I want them to look back and draw on past experiences for strength, especially if I'm no longer here to teach them. My example of living a miracle is meant to teach them to believe in miracles too.

The rest of the reason was to fulfill my purpose, to be the best instrument I can be in the hands of the Lord. As long as my heart is beating and there is breath in my lungs, I will do all that is required for good to complete His will on earth. My capacity to perform the tasks He needs will continue to enlarge as I put my faith to use.

Amy Kenney