Houston, We've Reached a New Low

We don't look bored in this picture because all the kids are behind the photographer making us look more interesting.

When I was pregnant with my youngest, my husband and I worked as counselors for our church youth camp. We had one camper who whined THE ENTIRE camp because he "was bored." At the end of the camp, they always gave out little awards (The messy award, the friendly award). The little bored camper got the "I'm Bored Award." When they announced his award he fell from his chair, crying and rolling on the floor. It had been a fun week, but that was a priceless moment that topped the week off as the funniest moment of all. Today marks a month since we became empty-nesters. Now I remember why we had children. . .  We're just dang boring without em. Sadly, we're like Homer and Marge Simpson, sittin on the couch watchin our stories. Well, maybe not quite as bad as Homer and Marge, but pretty dang close. The good thing about empty nesting is, the grocery bill has plummeted. I've been on a cooking strike. Luckily, I'm married to a man who is perfectly content with frozen dinners. Well, I guess there is the slight chance my cooking is so bad that it's not missed, but for narcissistic purposes, let's go with the content thing. It's so boring at our house that I walked into the kitchen the other day and He said. . . "I'm bored. We should go on a hike or go bowling or something."  I just paused for a minute then said. . . "Yeah, we should." Then we just continued on with all the things we weren't doing. Yes, Houston we've reached a new low.

First Day.....

Having grown up beneath a church pew (Meaning back in the day before nursery services were provided), I remember the Pastor we had when I was little used to say. . . .  "Today is the first day of the rest of your life".  That's how I feel on this first empty nest Saturday.  I've had a weird surge of focus and energy this week, a therapist might say it could be indicative of being bipolar, I choose to see it as a mom reclaiming her nest. I do my best work when I'm alone. I've moved furniture, thrown stuff away, cleaned and organized my now empty nest. Surprisingly this first week wasn't bad, I was so busy, there wasn't any time to pout. My Hubby will come walking through the door any minute and I'm going to happily tell him. . . .  "Today is the first day of the rest of our lives!!?

Wrestling Walruses

I hate epiphanies that results in me knowing that if karma is everything they say she is.... I'm in HUGE trouble.  I had one of those moments yesterday... Well, I had several hours of those moments yesterday. I went in with a deep breath telling myself to remain calm and to be sweet, sweet, sweet and patience, patience, patience. By the end of the day, I was sitting in a dark corner with a girlfriend as we shared our walrus of the day stories. Her walruses are different than my walruses, but I'm almost certain everyone has a walrus or two hidden in their closet. After a long silence yesterday afternoon, I turned to walrus #1 and asked..... "How much medication would I have to take to bring me to a long state of unconsciousness, without tipping me over the edge?" The walrus looked at me with great big walrus eyes and asked..... "Are your nerves that bad?"  I wasn't serious, of course I wasn't serious....  But, in the moment I sincerely wanted Calgon to take me away and possibly never bring me back. During the day I texted a friend who had successfully wrestled her walruses several years ago..... She texted me back, reminded me that her wrestling days were over, but she would be in the corner cheering me on. My other girlfriend said she found a sign the other day that said..... "I've thought more about running away from home as an adult than I ever did as a child." Boy, ain't that the truth!....  Yesterday was a wake up call for me to work on my interpersonal relationship skills... So I am..... More patient... and so my hospitality has more hospitable in it than it has hostility. To better prepared myself for this wrestling career, I'm thinking of taking some of those workshops they give at Lowe's like "How to nail jello to a wall" (that would have come in handy yesterday) and other skills needed for wrestling something that's slippery with no arms.


P.S. In case you're wondering, my walrus is NOT my husband. He is my biggest fan every day, not just during the WWC (Walrus Wrestling Championships) .

The Cry of a Mockingbird

When we first moved into our home, the front porch was overgrown with giant cedars that barely left room to walk up the steps. Inside one of the cedar trees, a mockingbird had made her nest. We learned to duck as she guarded her nest with fierce determination as we entered the home with arms full of boxes. On the 2nd or 3rd night in the house, the doorbell rang at 3 in the morning. I sat straight up in bed like I had been hit by a bolt of lightening because the doorbell wasn't as much a doorbell as it was a buzz. It sounded like someone was being electrocuted, which in hindsight was a fairly good description since it caught on fire a couple of years later. I ran down the stairs and groped my way through the unfamiliar living room, dodging boxes and furniture. I peeked through the octagon window in the old wooden door and saw a young shirtless black guy standing on the porch looking over his shoulder. I cracked the door open a enough for him to tell me he had just been walking down the street when he noticed the dome light was on in our car and he thought I should come take a look at it. I asked him to wait as I ran upstairs to rouse my sleeping husband. At 3 in the morning, He needed to be shakened a little to get him to wake up so I said the most shocking thing I could think of to get him up and rolling.... I said.... "There's an Ethiopian looking guy who needs to talk to you like right now!"
My urgency wasn't contagious as he slowly got up and ambled downstairs. When he got to the door, the Ethiopian guy was very insistent he come out and see the car light. My husband finally persuaded him to leave and as he was walking down the steps, the momma mockingbird dive boomed the back of his head practically knocking him to the ground. He jumped up like he had been hit with a bat and ran as fast as his Ethiopian legs would take him. It was so funny! We waited until the nest was empty before we cut the tree down and hauled it away. Even with the nest empty and the tree gone, the momma mockingbird kept coming back, squawking and flying in circles where tree once stood. It was like she didn't know what to do with herself and it was heartbreaking. We moved my last little chick to the City this weekend and as we pulled into our driveway I thought of the momma mockingbird and her frantic cries.  The language she spoke makes perfect since to me 18 years after the fact.  All she had ever known was guarding her nest with fierce tenacity. Then one day she returned home to find no nest, no tree.  There were no little mouths to feed... No quarrels to settle, no tears to wipe.... Except her own. The branches of other trees in the neighborhood didn't feel the same.... They seemed... Well, they seemed a little shaky and not as comfortable as the one that held her nest. "Where do I go to from here? What do I do now?" She squawked, but sadly the night was silent and in that moment.... like it might never end....

P.S. If you look for me in the near future, I'll be the one lying in the corner in a fetal position.

Spilled Milk

Although I do tend to live out loud in a blogging kind of way, I don't actually expect anyone to pay any attention to me, so it's always a pleasant surprise when someone admits they've read anything I've written. So yes, I've been totally full of myself today to the point of tossing my Starbucks. I've cried sobbed for 5 solid hours... Thank you Jesus everyone was out of my office. Late this morning, I got an email from my Bestie. She doesn't get a lunch hour, so we never get to do lunch, but today she got a lunch hour and wanted to know if I wanted to meet. I couldn't snap that offer up quick enough with fair warning that I was not going to be a Chipper Chickie. I walked into the Tearoom and saw her standing by the table farthest from the crowd with a seat saved for yours truly so my back would be to the luncheon-muchins as I snotted and slobbered our hour away. Now that's a true friend.... One that saves you the seat that causes you the least embarrassment. My eyes were swollen and fire engine red. I had no make-up left anywhere close to my nose area and thank God I had on waterproof mascara. We hugged and had a seat and she said...... "Okay Sister.... What's going on?" All I could do is whisper that we were moving the baby out tomorrow. She let out a long sigh and shook her head as if that explained it all. She has been with me through all of my motherhood drama-rama. She would sit and laugh at my Mother/Daughter tales, snicker at my ADHD boy vs. ADHD Mother antics (yes, hypnosis was involved) and rejoiced with me when the true "Quiet One" was born. Finally she asked.... "What exactly bothers you about him?" That's when I really broke down.... "I'm not worried about him.... I'm worried about me!!!!!" I know! It's hard to believe that I just admitted it out loud, but it's the truth! PA-THETIC! I told her how scared I was.... Scared about what I was going to be now, who I was going to be. What if I find out my husband  and I don't like each other so much now? It's been 30 years since we've been alone and since the minute you decide to have children, you instantly cease really

being alone because the parenting gene starts to kick in and we were only married for 6 months before we decided to get pregnant and had only known each other for 6 months before we married and I lived in Tulsa the whole time so we barely knew each other and I was a starry eyed 18 year old who still believed in fairy tales and happily ever after and now it looks like the ever after is here and I never really thought things through to this point and to be honest.... I'm just panicked and maybe I'm having cold feet 31 years after the fact and what if things really start sucking now????? Yes, this was all expressed with one breath and no periods so excuse my punctuation if it's not exact. She listened and nodded and patted my hand and the waiter looked on with concern, tried to fix things with chocolate and obviously didn't think she was doing a good enough job of comforting me so he actually offered to let me share my burdens with him which, just made me feel more pathetic that the wait staff wasn't sure they would be able to clean up the slobbery mess I was leaving behind.  I finally cried myself into dehydration and a full blown raging headache by the time we said our goodbyes. This afternoon the troops upstairs rallied around me (since there were no troops downstairs) to assure me that life would continue to be full in spite of the house being empty and I'm sure they're right. One co-worker listened to me and said.... "You're having a..." I interrupted her with...  "I'm having a mid-life crisis!! This is it, this is what it looks like." I'm telling y'all, it ain't pretty. And to heap guilt upon guilt and panic upon panic, I feel like at totally Jac-Arse for being so freaked out. I'm suppose to be consumed with parental concern and Hover Mom duties, but no... I'm sobbing my eye out because I'm worried about me, which totally makes me a narcissist nut job who fully admits to any and all of the above noted sentiments as well as various psychopathy's (yes, I watch too much, or perhaps not enough Dr. Drew).... Or a woman who simply says what other women feel but have the sense enough not to admit out loud. Neither of these are a good thing, but it is what it is and I'm sure when I wake up Sunday morning, everything will be right as rain and I'll embrace the fact that I can run around the house in my panties without the fear of a brood of teenage boys traipsing through the house. On a closing note a co-worker came down right before 5 to tell me that they had been discussing my meltdown upstairs, trying to remember how they felt when their kids left the nest. The consensus was  the worse case scenario is... The kids return to the nest, bring more bodies than they left with and expect me to support the whole herd. Well if dehydration didn't dry up the tears, the thought of that sure did. I think I'll just embrace the idea of a naked room and quit this crying over spilled milk.

All I've known......

There is a song by Matt Wertz titled "All I know".  I love the lyrics which can be interpreted in several different ways depending on my mood.

"All I know is the bleeding in my heart 

And the healing in your touch All I know is that you gave everything 

So let that be enough 'Cause it's all I know"

A girlfriend and I were talking the other day about our youngest leaving for college. In no uncertain terms she informed me we MUST plan a couple of girlfriend trips in August and September to help soften the blow of our empty nest. Today I sat at my desk and stared at the calendar hanging on my cubicle wall. One week, I had one week before I move my youngest to the City and everything I've ever known changes. Honestly, I feel like a big ole tit bag whining about the kids moving off to college, still, I can't help but spill whatever angst  I'm feeling onto a public blog in hopes that I'm not alone.... In a "It's my blog and I'll whine if I want to." kind of way. The truth is, there are some things in life, you simply cannot adequately prepare yourself for.  A friend of mine had breast cancer. As much as I wanted to understand her pain, I couldn't because I hadn't walked that path. A friend of mine suffered a devastating divorce from the father of her children and the man she was sure was her soul mate. It scared me so badly, I insisted my husband and I go to marriage counseling just so it wouldn't happen to us. My heart ached as I watched her attempt to put her shambled life back into order. I remember when as the baby of the family, I left home, I saw my parents struggling to get used to it being just the two of them again. In my brilliant mind I intended to take proactive steps to prevent the eventual empty nest from catching us off guard, so we've done everything in our power to maintain our relationship. But as I looked at the calendar on the wall, I fear we haven't done enough and panic seized my gut. Women are nurturers, that's just what we do. I got married young and had children 

young. The idea of going off on my own was short lived and squashed after graduation, so marriage seemed like the logical next step. All I'd ever dreamed of being was a wife and a mother. Now looking back, that's all I've ever known.... Which isn't a bad thing, but has become a very scary thing. My dreams never really developed past the point of when the children were grown and gone. As my last child entered high school, I realized that all I've ever known was pleasing other people.... There really hadn't been energy or courage to do things outside other people's expectations. When I think of moving my son next week, I almost get physically ill. The house is going to be so still.... Big... Empty. What will I do? I look at my husband, whom I adore, and I wonder if we'll have anything to talk about for the next 30 years. We're really not that interesting. He knows all of my stories, I've heard all of his stories and there is an overwhelming panic that I'm just going to cease to exist. I know that probably sounds overly dramatic, but that's what's 

going through my head this week. I remember when the babies were learning to walk.... How they would hold onto a piece of furniture and my husband would get in front of them, with his arms outstretched, encouraging them. I would walk behind with my hands cupped under the bottoms in case they lost their footing and fell. Why was I so afraid of them falling? Naturally, I wanted to prevent them from getting hurt, but in reality, babies have very short legs and we bubble wrap their butts the minute they come into this world, so a fall from a standing position onto a padded bottom isn't a life threatening event, yet there we were, hands cupped from behind, hands held up in front, just in case the knees wobbled and the wee one plopped to the floor. That's a little how I feel about my youngest moving out. I desperately want to prevent him from all kinds of mistakes, but could I really? I've never ventured the path he is about to embark upon. I've never experienced taking those first steps alone. So what is really at the root of my anxiety. The root of my anxiety is the fear I have about my own future, not his. Mistakes are inevitable and he'll live though them. When it's all mixed together, it's just the process of living a full life. Insecurity breeds insecurities. If I refuse to let go, he's just going to resist my grip all the more. I have to let go and trust he can do it and believe that even with the absence of a house full of kids, my husband and I will paddle our way through this shallow part of the river, to deeper waters ahead.

Apron String Heart

I pulled into our driveway in my cyber green Beetle.  A tiny voice in the back seat asked.... "Momma, are you going to make me move out when I turn 18 like you did Sissy?"  A little piece of my heart broke as I explained to my 8 year old that mommy didn't make Sissy move away, rather she grew up and wanted to go to college..... "Well I'm never going to college, I want to stay here with you and daddy." I knew he was struggling with his sister's absence; with 11 years difference between them, she had been a mother figure to him, letting him sleep with her so "Bubba couldn't smother him in his sleep" like he teased him of doing. His teacher had told me he was struggling emotionally with her move. She said he came to school every day and told her exactly how many days left until he would see his Sissy again; kind of like a child whose father goes off to war. He was most comfortable when the entire family was safe and accounted for each evening before he went to bed. If they weren't, he would inquire as to the exact time they were expected back.... "I just rest better when everyone is home." he would tell me. I poked my head in his bedroom the other night to tell him dinner was ready. He sat on the love seat holding his game

controller, his girlfriend sat beside him. His face is a gingerbread brown from working his summer job, but it is the same face that stared thoughtfully out the car window when I picked him up from daycare all those years ago. His bedroom walls that had been covered with band posters and teenage mementos, has been stripped bare. Boxes and packing supplies are stacked in the living room, waiting to be filled. In a couple of weeks, all his worldly possessions will fill a U-Haul and spirit him away to the City to begin his adult (or almost adult life). I think on some level, I thought he never would grow up and

leave momma and daddy, but the pulling force of independence and the opportunity to live close to his siblings is stronger than this mom's apron strings. I'm still not sure I've recovered from having his sister and brother leave, and now I'm preparing yet again, to set the child I've nurtured and loved, loose in a cruel world that doesn't have his best interest at heart. "I've done it before." I tell myself.... "I can do it again." But part of me wants to chain him to the past and never let him go as the other part of me fumbles with the knot of my apron string heart.

100% of You

This week I had lunch with a dear friend. We went to the hospital, not because the food is great (it can be and they have a Chick Fillet), but because the dining room is huge so we wouldn't be crowded and we wouldn't have to scream over the the noise like you do in some restaurants. I had made a list on my phone of things I wanted to tell her since our last lunch. I texted her to remind me I had put it on my phone, or I would forget to get the list out.... Yes, this happens to me with a grocery list as well, which makes me wonder if it all goes down hill from here with my memory.... RABBIT TRAIL! The chattering began as soon as she picked me up and didn't slow down until I stepped out of the car and back into the office. We had a lot to say to each other. We got our food, picked the table farthest away form everyone else and continued with our conversations.... As in pleural because between the two of us you cannot get a word in edge wise so we both just plunge in with both feet and often and let our wisdom, opinion and our epiphanies splash all over one another. Not to mention we both talk like Italians (with a lot of hand waving and acting our different parts).... I've often thought it would be more than a little entertaining to be an outsider watching us converse. I think I only took a couple of bites of my food then pushed it aside because I had a lot to talk about and didn't have enough time to eat and talk without spitting food all over her and that's just plain rude. As we were leaving she noticed I was wearing the new skirt I had bought when we went shopping. She also noticed that the split in the back of the skirt still had the little knot they put in them when they are in the store so we stopped in the hall so she could cut my string loose. I had dug my pocket knife out of my purse, she had handed me her coke and was bent over lifting up the hem of my skirt so she could see the string. About that time I heard someone say.... "Hi Jackie, are you having fun?" We both looked up said hi and laughed because I know it must have looked a little strange. She said.... "I just saw her bent over with her head up your skirt and wondered."  What could I say... Except.... "Welcome to a day in the life of Jackie... And yes, I'm sure I'll be blogging about it later." She laughed, walked on and my friend took care of my string and we continued to the car. When I got back to the office I felt like a weight had been taken off my shoulders, it was so good to get those things (both good and bad) off my chest, just be able to talk to a friend who hears and understands my woman thoughts. I thought to myself.... A friend gives you 100% of their focus when they are in your presence and you give them 100% back. Wouldn't it be refreshing in our technologically advanced world, if there were more people willing to focus 100% on the person they are with when that person has something they need to say? It seems with so many things vying for our attention, we rarely give anything or anyone 100%. Our society now reflects our inattentiveness but we're too busy to notice the loss and are laden with too much apathy to care.

The Strangled Sob Behind a Poker Face

I was a weepy mess last week for no particular reason at all and I'm not much better today. I know all good things much end, and yes I suppose new adventures are just a breath away, but gosh, being a mom is hard. Several months ago, my youngest sat on our couch and with absolute resolve and made it perfectly clear that he WAS NOT going to college. He did it in almost a temper tantrum kind of way... Well I say that, but actually no voices were raised or harsh words spoken, it's just that he was adamant that he would not go to college regardless of how we felt. The conversation left me baffled and confused. Although the subject of college had been discussed between his siblings and him, we had never broached the subject with him, nor him with us (yes, I'm sure that's bad parenting 101).

Early last week he gently knocked on my bedroom door as I was reading. He came into the room looking at his phone and in teenage mumble/murmuring speak, told me that he was going to Oklahoma City next week to enroll in OCCC. He said he had already sent his transcript in and just needed to sign up for classes. Much like the haircut, I tried my best to "Act Nach" and not torpedo him with the million questions inquiring mothers like to ask, so I simply said.... "Okay, is that something you would like dad and I to go with you to do?" I tread the waters very lightly with him because frankly, he doesn't quite know how to take me and I don't quite know how to take him which is a complete 180 compared to my older children. His teenage years have been a learning process for me that darn near required psychic abilities I do not possess... Psycho abilities yes, psychic abilities no. He shrugged his shoulder and said (in teenage mumble/murmuring speak) "Well, like sure, if y'all like want to go, that would be fine.... I guess."  Quickly my mind translated the message in "Uniquely Patterson" speak and determined the answer was... "Sure, I'd love for you to go." or at least I think that's the translation as I would like it to be. The idea that my youngest was actually going to leave, hit me in the stomach like a boxers upper cut. Parenting is a series of letting go. I absolutely don't want my children living their lives

around my wants, wishes or needs, but that doesn't make letting go easy or painless. I remember when each one of them were just learning to walk. After a fall on their padded diapered bottoms, they would look to me to assess if I thought they were hurt. The way I responded to the fall had much more significance than the actual fall itself.  They were more likely to burst into tears when I rushed to their aid as if something was wrong than they were when I simply smiled and encouraged them to get up, assuring them they were okay. The changes and paths they take in life as adults aren't much different.  When they come to me with decisions to make, or questions I don't have the answer for, I wish I did have psychic abilities or a crystal ball to direct them in the absolute perfect direction. As a mom without all the answers, all I can do is to let them know I support them 100% regardless of the choices they make.  I try to keep a sense of calm about me even when I desperately want to tuck them under my wing and never let them go. Watching their world unfold before my very eyes is both exciting and scary... A tiny part of me would like to fold it back up and start all over again.... Without the rookie mistakes I made as a young parent. The sound you hear as I watch them fly farther, higher and stronger from the nest is nothing short of a strangled sob hidden behind a loving smile and a very good poker face.

The Precipice

"All the concepts about stepping out of your comfort zone mean nothing, until you DECIDE that your purpose, vision and goals are more important than your self-imposed limitations."      *Robert White*

My husband and I participated in The Ultimate Mud Warrior Race this weekend. Personally I choose to scratch the word Race out and replace it with Finish because for me that's what it's all about. You might say I'm trying to get over myself... literally. My greatest obstacle in life has been my limited belief in myself and the fear of everything outside my bubble world. As I've watched my kids set out on their life adventures, I've seen them accomplish things that would (and have) scared me stiff. I've come to realize that believing in yourself is the toughest challenge you can face. That being said, the day was slated to be a beautiful fall day and apparently Murphy didn't get the memo about my race entry, therefore he failed to show up. The morning was beautiful as planned, but a tad nippy at 9 a.m., but not the cold, drizzly 47 degrees as the run/race we did last

month. I had watched the construction of the course online and was excited about the level of obstacles and the intriguing route the race would take. Of course it wouldn't be a mud race without water (and lots of it), and mud there was. Part of the race included sand, which is exactly like swimming in glue when you are really tired. All obstacles had an alternate path if you didn't feel up to the challenge, but hey, that's what this is all about. Not far into the course we came to the under/over cable lake crossing. This challenge consisted of a 

lake bordered by cliffs. Cables ran from one side of the lake to the other, one cable to walk on, one cable to hold, and a very muddy cold lake lay way beneath the cables (did I mention cold). Racers stood in line to cross, but those who wanted to opt out could simply do 10 push-ups and take the alternate path. My husband suffered a bad shoulder injury a couple of years ago and opted out, I made the decision to   stay. I stood in line with the other racers for probably 40 minutes. That's a long time to stand in the shade (did I mention cold) and watch people creep their way across the cables, many falling to their wet reward below. I wouldn't say I was nervous, I would say I was pensive. 35 minutes into the wait, there were only 2 others 

in front of me. I looked out across the lake. On the other side was a clearing where the ones who had crossed, as well as many spectators stood watching the daring ones. Teammates stood shouting instructions to friends and everyone cheered for 

those who had fallen to the icy waters below.  Each racer had their own method to the madness of crossing. Some walked the cable like a tight rope,  some scooted sideways, all struggled. As each racer reached midpoint in the crossing,  the next racer stepped onto the cable and usually there was a racer just finishing. The first step wasn't too bad for the one entering, but this is where the one in the middle began to struggle for 

control. I watched those in the middle fight the line. The cable would begin to sway sending part of their body one way, part of their body the other way. the trick was to get your body back in line so you could continue to inch your way across.  I gritted my teeth as I watched the racers bobble and bop, swing and sway. I started to ask myself.... "Is this really worth it? In the great scheme of things, what does it matter if I do this or not? Just drop and give em 10 and go around and be done with it." Then I thought of all the times I didn't push myself to do the difficult. I thought about all of the risks my daughter has taken while in the Navy, and the things my son has face on his mission trips and in starting a business.  I knew this wasn't important to anyone, but me. This wasn't a challenge of fear, failure, or danger, it was a 

challenge of inner courage, and inner belief in myself. I needed to do this. I stepped out on the line and focused (and focus is a big deal for me) all of my energy on doing this. I had decided the side step slip/slide/scoot route would probably work best. Carefully I slide my leg and arm to the side, balanced, then brought the other side together. When the cable began to swing, I spread my legs out to maintain balance and then brought them back in when the line steadied. 3/4 way across, the cable began to jump and swing as the other racer stepped onto the line. I did not come this far to fail! I fought the line with everything I had. I tried trapping the line behind my 

shoulders and holding with my neck, which actually worked really well, until it didn't anymore. After what seemed like forever, something that happened at the beginning of the cable jerked the cable from under my feet and my hand could no longer hold on. I plummeted to the murky water beneath, and came up gasping for air. When I made it to shore, my husband's feet appeared, and he reached down to help me up. I was so dizzy from the swaying, I couldn't get my balance and it took a few seconds for me to be able to stand.  I was so disappointed and exhausted! It wouldn't have taken much to send me in tears. The woman who was on the cable at the same time (and who fell at the same time), apologized as she walked past, but I 

was too exhausted to respond. As my husband and I walked through the woods, I honestly doubted I could finish the race. I had used so much mental and physical energy on the cable, I wasn't sure I had anything left for the rest of the course. My husband walked with me and showered me with accolades.  When we came out of the woods, we faced a mountain, or actually mountains of sand. I still didn't know if I could finish, but I was willing to try. Little by little, obstacle by obstacle, I marched on and the haze of disappointment faded, the 

chill disappeared and the end was clearly in sight.  Crossing the finish line was made sweeter by the decision I made at the precipice of the lake.  Much like every other thing in life, most of the battle was in my mind. I may have fallen from the cable, but I didn't fall out of the race. More importantly, I conquered a hurdle of self-imposed limitations, stepped out of my comfort zone and lived to blog about it. That is a very big deal to me! Warrior on Mudders.