I've been inspired by the Olympics this year more than I have in years, since I was a young gymnast watching Mary Lou Retton. I've watched bits and pieces of gymnastics and diving over the years, but this year has been different. I've been watching into the evening every day since it started. I have to peel myself away to get to bed at night. Tonight, a brief poem in honor of these amazing athletes.
Olympian
Flawless physique
exceptional skill
unmatched athleticism
dedication
commitment
strength
drive
confidence
the heart of an Olympian
is a heart of gold
I wish, I hope my students are watching the Olympics. There is so much girl power going on in Rio right now it's setting the world on fire! I have been watching for the past two days and I am so proud of all the athletes, but I can't help but think of the role models these young women athletes are for girls all over the world.
Did you know the first medal of the Olympics was won by a 19-year-old American girl? Ginny Thrasher (how cool is that name for an Olympian?) is a shooter who pulled what was considered to be an upset over the shooter from China. She won gold in the 10 meter air rifle and set a new record.
Dana Vollmer, who won the bronze medal in the 100 meter butterfly, is the first American woman to medal in the Olympics after having a baby. She has a baby not even a year old.
Ibtihaj Muhammad is the first Muslim to compete on Team USA wearing a hijab. She wanted to play sports as a kid and she chose fencing because it was one of the few she could play without compromising her cultural beliefs. I hope she wins!
Katie Ledecky, one of the youngest Olympians on Team USA won her 400 freestyle swim today, taking first place and breaking the olympic record, and her own world record- twice! First she took the record in the qualifying round and then broke it in the finals where she took gold by a landslide!
And let's not forget the Team USA women's gymnastics team. They are so above and beyond the rest of the world in talent, that they're a shoe in for the team medal. Ally Reisman is the reigning all around champion and Simone Biles, a 4'8" dynamo is in first place for the individual all around. She was born to a drug addict mom and she and her sister were adopted by and raised by her grandparents. She is arguably the best ever in the sport of gymnastics, not even taking into account the increase in difficulty over the years.
Image retrieved from Angelo.edu
And it's not just the American women...
The gold medalist in 100 butterfly was a woman from Sweden who is the first female swimmer in her country to medal in swimming. Not only did she win gold but she broke the world record during the race. Imagine that? All in one race, she broke the world record, won an Olympic gold, and brought home the first medal in swimming for her country. WOW!
The Chinese synchronized springboard diving team included a woman who has dominated the event with gold medals in the last five Olympics!
The Romanian women's gymnastics team consists of a single gymnast who is 28 years old. She came out of retirement to represent her country in the Rio Olympics because there were no healthy and/or talented enough gymnasts to form a team. She has the potential to medal in balance beam.
And get this... one of the women on the Uzbekistan gymnastics team is 41 years old! She has competed in 7 Olympics! Most of the other members of her team are around her son's age, 16!
I know there are many more. All the Olympic athletes are so impressive in their drive and commitment to be the best in their sports. Each of them has an individual story and I am so impressed with the power of these women, American and otherwise.
It's the call every parent hopes they never get. It's the one we got last night. "I was in an accident."
There's a reason why they call it an accident. Although often times there are direct causes, careless causes for an accident, we still call it an accident. Truth is, every single possible scenario went through my head last night as we were trying to carefully rush to the scene where are 17-year-old son was in an accident. He assured my husband on the call that he was ok. But a mother's heart sinks anyway. My son has been a remarkably responsible driver, he doesn't drink or hang out at parties with people who do, and he takes the idea of texting and driving, or even talking and driving pretty seriously. But we're conditioned to start running through the worst cases when we don't know the facts. We can probably thank the media for that, but I'm not getting on a soap box today. I'm just trying to write in order to sort out the traumatic experience of last night.
We arrived to the scene to an ambulance leaving. One of the kids in the car presumably had a concussion and was brought in just as precaution. That kid happened to be my son's best friend. We got out of the car and started to approach. We were the furthest away from where the accident occurred, and we walked up to two families, EMS, and our son who came running toward us in tears. Thankfully all the boys were ok, but our son who was driving, was shaken up. He was tearful and chattery and apologetic. He was devastated that his friend left in an ambulance.
Without getting into the details of the accident, it was legitimately an accident. He was not texting or talking on the phone, and he was not drinking. None of the kids were. And accidents happen. His truck was flipped over on its side, a jaw dropping sight for any parent. His friend was released last night and my son and the other two boys seem fine today. It was just a pretty traumatic experience for them all.
Today we're just trying to come down from the experience. We're waiting for the insurance company adjuster to tell us what's what. We're expecting the truck to be totaled, so it'll be a couple of weeks before we can replace the truck. I think my son is a little afraid when he thinks about driving again, anyway and might be happy to have the break.
I feel really grateful today. Grateful for the guardian angel watching over them. Grateful that they're all going to be okay. Grateful that the guys who they collided with were genuinely concerned about the welfare of the kids and don't seem to be concerned with fault. I'm grateful that we have the kind of relationship with Jacob's friends and their families that last night we were a collective community worried about our kids, and not just angry parents pointing fingers.
Having been in a serious accident before, I know it takes time to get over this. I know my son will go back to feeling like a new driver again, and that's not so bad. I know that for a couple of weeks it's going to be the first thing on everyone's mind. But I also know time heals, and by the grace of G-d all four boys will be here to heal together.
Our vacation was bittersweet this year. We had a wonderful time and experienced lots of really cool adventures, but I also got to thinking. This might be our last traditional family vacation. If all goes well, our son will be off to college next year, and perhaps we'll sneak one more trip in next summer before he goes.
But it's hard to believe my son is going to be 18 and graduating high school this year. Gone are the days of snuggling up in bed and reading a story. Gone are the days when snorkeling on the beach or login to Disney World with his mom and dad were enough to make a vacation exciting. I guess it might come a little earlier for an only child. After all, there are no built in companions. No siblings means no childhood friends on these trips. This is why we've allowed him to bring a friend on each of the last two vacations. Don't get me wrong, his friends are great and both boys were a pleasure to have along on each of the trips. It's just that we may not be enough to make it fun anymore. It makes me a little sad, but it's ok.
We are going to try to weasel one more out next summer. We're leaning more toward a family trip than a graduation party. A cruise or a trip overseas are both considerations. Time and money will both be factors in that decision. For now I'll relish all the excursions we've had and all the time we have left together before he leaves our home for college. I'm truly grateful.
Family vacation to Anna Maria Island when Jacob was 5.
This year's trip to NC. Zip lining in the Smokies.
The stepping off the platform. That was the hardest part. At least once I got the first zip done. I had been anticipating this part of our trip with excitement and healthy trepidation, and we were finally there. Loaded up with gear and several hours of self-talk, I was ready. Of course, I knew there was a chance I would get up the first tower and decide not to do it. I've never been afraid of heights, but I never stepped out onto a platform several hundred feet in the air, waiting to sail by cables through the treetops of the Smoky Mountains. This was a definite first.
Our guides, both female and both young enough to be my daughters, gave a brief explanation of some do's and don'ts. We did a low-to-the-ground practice zip to ensure we understood how to brake. It's a high-tech brake system, consisting of a thick glove with a thicker leather overlay to protect your hand as you run it across the cable on your way into the receiving platform. That's right, your hand is your brake! We climbed to the first tower, one they fittingly call the birdhouse. There were ten of us altogether, the two guides, two couples, and our family of four (Jacob's best friend came with us). I was sandwiched between my son and his friend in front of me, and my husband behind me. I watched all of them except my husband zip before me. I wondered whether I could go through with it. It wasn't the height that bothered me, and I couldn't really put my finger on the source of the fear. The guides, one on the departing platform and the other on the receiving platform, exchanged their signals for readiness on the walkie talkies.
"Zip clear."
"Zipping."
"Zip away."
Kaylin moved my carabiners from the safety line attached to the tree in the center of the tower, to the cable that shot out into the trees and across the mountain top. She reminded me to sit down in my harness and look for Jen's brake signal as I approached the next platform. Then she said it. "You're ready."
"Ha!" I laughed out loud. "No I'm not." And I pushed off and left the tower. I felt the vibration of the cable and heard the hum. I could barely take in the scenic view because I was concentrating on arriving alive to the other side. And I did! I had to work on my braking, but made it. The first of eight zips was under my belt. This one and the remaining three of the first four were all build up for the second half of the tour. Jen explained,
"Four out of eight sounds like 50%, but it's not. The first four aren't even half the distance or the speed." Oy, I thought. "Sometimes people decide the zipping isn't for them, or they don't want to do the mega zip [zip 6]. We encourage you to at least try to make it through the first five. Otherwise we have to belay you down, and that can be even more scary." Great! Okay, I can do this. I told myself I could get through the five and if I didn't want to do the big one, it would be fine.
By the second and third, I was feeling a little bit better. With each successful zip, my confidence built a little. But every time, the anticipation made me want to puke. I found myself with Kaylin clipping my gear each time and telling me I was ready. By the fourth one I said, "You keep saying that, but I never am!" We shared a laugh and she encouraged me telling me I was doing great, that I didn't even seem scared.
"Just take a leap of faith," she said. And off I went. Again. And again I made it to the other side just fine. I started to enjoy it a little more, actually feeling exhilarated and looking around while I zipped from one end to the other. We climbed down to the base again. We had done the first five zips, but Jen reminded us we had only done about a third of the total distance. We were gearing up for the mega zip, which was a climb to a whole different set of towers for the final three zips. Number six, was over 350 feet in the air and almost a half mile long. Speed on this zip would get up to somewhere between 45 and 55 miles per hour. Holy shit! The wait in between each of the zippers on this line was longer because of the distance traveled. Kaylin took some photos and we all started talking about the experience. I came to understand it wasn't the height or the zip, or flying sensation that had me nervous. I thought about Kaylin's words. "Just take a leap of faith," and I realized for me, the fear was in stepping off the platform. Once I was in the air and zipping, I was just fine. But taking that leap of faith was easier said than done.
There I was, at the top of the tower more than 350 feet in the air, getting ready to zip half a mile across the treetops of the Smoky Mountains. It was really hard to step off, to let go. I almost asked my husband, who stood behind me before each zip, to give me a bit of a shove. I couldn't see the receiving tower, this was blind faith indeed. I took a deep breath, sat in my harness, and stepped off the platform. I'm not sure I can describe what I felt after that. Other than skydiving, it is probably the closest a human being can come to flying. Whereas the shorter zips, you take a quick glance around, and then keep an eye out for the tower, this one felt long. I had time to process the fact that I was above the trees, high in the mountains, flying like a freakin' bird! It was absolutely outrageous and the most invigorating feeling I can ever remember having. The wind blowing by me, the distance down below me (holy shit!) made the leap of faith all worthwhile.
And I got to thinking. Maybe, just maybe, this experience is a metaphor for my life. I have big dreams and big ideas. I say I want to take risks, but I'm not sure how much I really do. Sometimes, just taking the first step, that leap of faith, will bring the most glorious returns. It's okay to have fear as long as I don't let it stop me from doing big things. A healthy fear keeps things interesting. It adds adrenalin to the mix, and that's always good for a thrill. I am incredibly proud of myself for braving through this experience, for not quitting. As my son's friend said at dinner last night on the way home, "That was up there with the top experiences I've had in my life." It was for me too, and the fact we were able to make it happen for someone else too, well that's just a big fat juicy cherry on top.
Total height- 600+ feet above the ground
Total number of zips- 8
Total distance- about a mile
Top speed- 50-55 mph
*These photos are photos snapped from my computer screen. We haven't purchased them yet because we don't know which package we want. So please excuse the not-so-great-quality. I just could not publish this post without some evidence of what I actually did! I don't think there is a photo of the highest longest zip though. But you get the idea.
Here's a link to the NOC's website if you want to see professional video of the Mountaintop Zip Line.
More than anything or anyone, I trust my husband. Although I knew this, as we've been married for over 20 years and been together almost 30, I know it now on a deeper physical level. We were rafting down the Nantahala River, and I was in the front of the ducky boat, my husband at the back. The stronger more experienced paddler is usually stationed at the rear to control the steering. I hadn't been whitewater rafting since a trip in upstate New York, when I was a young child. I didn't do much. In fact in the photo, my family members are all around me paddling and I've got my tiny hands tucked inside my life vest, trying to stay warm. They all have determined looks of concentration, and I just looked and smiled. But I digress.
We were rushing down the river, navigating considerably mild class II rapids towards the class III Nantahala Falls at the end of our trip. Class II is considered mild because there are intervals of upbeat-paced flow with no whitewater. I can't say I ever felt like I was in major danger, but of course there's a certain level of risk with any of these activities. The river flows fast and it can be unpredictable. The force can be strong and there is a lot of rock. The water is also incredibly cold and crisp, bearable for us that day because the air temperature was in the upper eighties or lower nineties.
We hit an area of rock, and my husband lost his balance trying to steer us clear of it. He went over and I had to grab his vest while he hung onto the side of the raft. Knowing I wouldn't have the strength to drag him back on, I just held on so he could catch his breath. Then he had to pull his entire body back on, I was there as a tether. I had enough strength to keep him close. He finally got himself aboard, and then we had to chase down his paddle that had gotten loose and was taking its own journey down the Nantahala! I gave up my paddle so he could steer us and I kept my eyes fixed on the runaway paddle. Within a few minutes, we were able to catch up to it, and Paul used my paddle to link onto his. We got it and we were back to business as usual.
I asked Paul if he was okay, and other than losing one of his favorite hats to the river, he caught his breath and assured me he was alright. As we settled back in, he told me he could have held on, but eventually realized any effort to contort himself to stay on, was likely to flip the boat and send me over as well. He didn't want that, so he "took a dive" for me. I smiled warmly and we continued down the river. We soon hit one of the quieter and calmer spots, when you have time time take in your surroundings. We admired some beautiful luxury cabins along the river's edge and fantasized about having one as a summer home. We watched other rafters struggle and some kayakers hotdogging.
And in that moment, I felt an assurance. It was a strange time and place but I said to my husband, "This may sound weird and corny coming from me at this moment, but I want you to know something... I would do anything with you. I trust you so completely. As long as you're with me I would do just about anything." I couldn't see his face, but he responded.
"That's good. That makes me feel really good." And I thought, me too.
