Countdown to Triathlon - 264 Days, 37.75 weeks to Race Day (See Installment 17 of "The Journey", 220 mile bike ride, below)

For flowers that bloom about our feet;
For tender grass, so fresh, so sweet;
For song of bird, and hum of bee;
For all things fair we hear or see,
Father in heaven, we thank Thee!
~Ralph Waldo Emerson




I hope everyone had a wonderful Thanksgiving with your family.  My mother, daughter Laurel and her husband Danny spent the day with Bob and I.  A quiet Thanksgiving, but very nice.  Quite different  from the days when we had four little children running around the house.  As we all took time to reflect on our blessings, I remembered the above poem that I heard as a child which has always reminded me of even the small things of life which we sometimes forget to be thankful for.

I was especially touched by the journal post from a dear friend named Melanie who, with her entire family, is battling brain tumors in her thirteen year old daughter.  She included in the journal for Thanksgiving, a long list of things for which she is thankful.  That really touched my heart.  In the midst of all the hard things that they are dealing with, she was able to see beyond the negative and bring the positive to the forefront.  I am thankful for her and blessed to know her.  

When times are tough, we must remember to HANG ON!

The training has been very sparse this last week, but am getting back in the swing of it.  I have been researching how to put together a total program for all parts of the training: walking/jogging; cycling; swimming; lifting weights; stretching, etc.  I will post it so that I will be held accountable.  It is so important that I share it and my progress; otherwise it is so easy to say, I'll do it tomorrow.  And tomorrow, and tomorrow. 

The Journey - Installment Seventeen

One day I decided to go to the gun store to purchase spray to keep the dogs away. I remember the conversation with the gun store owner.  I asked for two packages of spray and then as an afterthought asked what it would take to buy a small gun to carry in my fanny pack.  I thought that I would feel safer and could ride on the canal alone if I had a gun.  The man said that I would be in possession of a concealed weapon and that it was against the law.  So I said, “What if I wore it on the outside?”  He replied, “That would be brandishing a firearm.”  I then asked him what I needed to do to get a license and he listed a long list of requirements.  I got the distinct impression that he didn’t think I was a good candidate for a gun.  I paid for my spray and went home.  

 There was one spot on the canal bank where we would cross a bridge and were confronted with a vicious, snarling dog. There was a house an outbuilding at that intersection.   Chained to the outbuilding was the scariest dog.  He lunged and snarled  every time we rode past and I cringed just to think of what he would do to us if the chain ever broke.  The spray that I had purchased came with a cover and Velcro that would wrap around our wrist for easy accessibility. Just before arriving at the "bad dog place" Don and I always unsnapped the cover of the spray to have it at the ready.   If that vicious dog weren’t enough, one day Don and I were riding home by way of a different route.  We were still in the countryside and all of a sudden three huge Rottweiler’s came charging out of a gate.  Two of the dogs came toward me and one circled behind me to attack Don.  Don got out his spray and it occurred to me that I might get it in my face if the wind was blowing just right, or just wrong, from my perspective.  I spayed at the two dogs on my left side and they just backed away.  I know I didn’t hit them in the face, but I think they got enough of a whiff that they knew they had better quit.  The spray, I was told, contained tear gas and green dye so that whoever or whatever I sprayed would have the dye on them for three days.  That same day, when we were within three miles of home, we looked to our right in the field and there was another dog.  This one was crouched, ready to spring.  As he headed toward us, Don got out his trusty spray and the last we saw, the poor thing was rolling around in the dirt trying to get the spray out of his eyes.  I think that we never had to use this method again which is a good thing because I always thought I’d probably get the spray in my face one day because of the wind.    We still hated the part of the route we took where the snarling, vicious dog was chained up.  Thank you Lord that his chain held.  I wonder if that dog is still there tormenting those who pass by.