105 heat and OCD not a good combination at Carowinds!

I decided that I really needed some new torture in my life, so I woke this kids invited a nephew and said, "Let's go to Carowinds!" You may think it's torture to head to a amusement park with 3 boys ALONE, but the torture was the 105 heat index melting the tires off the car as we pulled into the parking lot at 10am!

$56 dollars just to get in? I looked at the receipt wondering if there were tiffany necklaces for us Moms that brave the park alone and pay that amount of money to try very hard to throw up as much as possible.

Carowinds was covering their bases, announcing over the loudspeakers that "We at Carowinds want you to know that in this heat, there is free water through out the park. Remember to hydrate and early and often." The free water was a dixie cup with a few drops in it so Put down a mortgage payment and bought the huge refillable tankards of soda! Easy to carry with ice that melts within `15 minutes this was the cheapest option when dealing with heat, boys and soda.

Dressing for the heat allowed many to exit all semblence of decorum. Many men wore muscle shirts that stretched tight against very soft NON MUSCLED chests, women in bathing suit tops and tank tops they really shouldn't be wearing but on a hot summer day like today, we all got the pass. We forgot that a moo moo was unfashionable, that your boobs can slip out of a bathing suit top that's too small for you on a roller coaster than takes you up side down, we all just wanted to have fun!

I don't think I've ever sweated so much in my life. I was sweating looking at the roller coasters my son was dragging me on, sweating as I pulled out my wallet thinking that a stop at the plasma donar on the way home would cover the snack, sweating hiding in the shade while waiting for kids to come out of the bathroom.
My OCD personality hit high gear as my sweaty body would hit the vinyl seats of the ride and stick to them. As my hands stuck to the railings of the roller coaster ride and I tried not to think about the scary looking person who exited the ride before I took their seat.

The kids wondered why I spent so much time in the bathroom, it was to wash my hands! Plus I found the one and only air conditioned bathroom and told them to go ride a few rides while I took a nap on the toilet.

So there ya have it, Carowinds by the numbers: 11 roller coasters ridden, 4 gallons of liquid consumed, 3 gallons of said liquid including caffinated soda, 2 bottles of hand santizer used, 1 empty wallet at the end of the day.

Would I do it all again? You betcha! What do you think of sweaty bodies at amusement parks?

Why I ride.....

I was excited about the Grizzly 40 miler, a ride through the High Country of North Carolina. Excited and very nervous as I do not participate much in bike rides, due to lack of experience, this time I had the experienced buddy (Keith) and another novice (Maria) to get me to the starting line and off.

We stood with over 100 people, very discreetly moving out way to the back, knowing that there was no time expected and going out with the super fast pack was out of the question. Picked a bad day to wear my Rock the Blue Ridge jersey, Maria in her Beech to Battleship biking jersey looking like we knew what we were doing but we didn’t. We had several triathlons under our belt and I two rides to boot, that was it.

Pacing ourselves for the ride, we were slowly making our way up that first major hill, when the police car went by, followed by the ambulance and then another police car. Dread in any athletes heart during a ride/race when emergency vehicles travel past, knowing that it’s someone that stood at that starting line with you full of dreams, hurt and not able to reach their goal.

When we came upon the accident, the upset of both the volunteers and police man had us both pausing, this is different, there is something seriously wrong. When told that we could not pass, that we had to wait because of an accident, I felt dread, when the third person comes and says there’s been a death, all I felt was panic. I pictured all those riders at the front, laughing and talking with each other, I pictured my friend turning back to me and saying, “Come on up ladies, let’s get going!”

There’s nothing worse than standing and being held back-helpless, knowing that people that you know were ahead, and were possibly part of the accident. I’ve seen it all during marathons, people passed out by the side of the road, seizures, ambulances; I’ve seen cyclists with broken necks by the side of the road. When someone is injured, you know there is hope. Knowing that there was a death makes this worse, because your mind already jumps to the worse conclusion, was I the one that talked him into riding this ride? The picture that jumps to your mind (before you can control it and block it) of that smile and “Come on Ladies, stop hiding there in the back?” After the dread, comes the panic then comes the determination. I almost felt sorry for the volunteers as those of us waiting start berating with questions, “Is it a he or a she? How old is he? Can you tell us what color jersey he was wearing? What type of bike did he have?” The poor volunteer knew our panic but also knew due to safety rules she could not tell us anything. We just sit and wait.

After what felt like hours, a volunteer comes and tells us, “The road is closed, you’ll have to turn back. But the person in the accident is not married.” The quick feeling of relief is followed by a feeling of guilt, I am glad that my friend is safe, should I be glad when someone else's son, brother, friend was there? We turn back, losing the feeling of the ride and pedal back to the cars, leery of the traffic, leery of the bike, leery of the race.

Tomorrow, I go out to ride. I go because it’s what I love to do, and I will not let this stop me. I may be a little slower, I may be a little more careful so maybe this accident was God’s way of telling a few of us, “be a little more responsible” but I will go out and ride. I feel this was fate, that this was his time, and not my friend’s time, that a few seconds earlier or maybe even a few seconds’ later things would be different. When you ride, there could be a dog, a squirrel, a patch of sand, gravel or it could boil down to the muscle twitch, you just never know.

Obsessing about the person, haunted by the wonder of what they could have done differently, trying not to picture the accident, the ambulances....trying to move it out of my mind. Trying to not let that accident mar a simple hike as my mind jumps to someone falling and I feel that fear all over again. Trying to put away the feeling of wanting to hang up the bike because it's dangerous-hell, anything can be dangerous, just ask the post rattlesnake boys.

Could I go down a hill with turns fast tomorrow, probably not-but I will go out there and ride, doing what I heard he loved to do, doing what I love to do. I’ll take the feelings of fear, helplessness, and panic and put it in a pretty little box with a beautiful bicycle on the side, close the lid and put it away to a special place in the back part of the my heart and my mind. Shut the lid on that box, clip in on my bike and pedal.

Why does this always happen to me?

The boys and I decided on an early morning hike, trying to get some fun in before the weather turned for the day. We decided to hit a little known trail, Lost Cove as something different, I read about cliffs and through this would be a spectacular view. It was a cool morning, hiking through large hedges of mountain laurel, no one else on the trail but us. I was able to leave the boys and relax because the sound of their arguing followed me on the mountain as I went in search of the cliff.

At the end of the out and back, I found the cliffs and they were as beautiful as I expected, we walked out on a rock and stood there peering over at Grandfather Mountain, amazed at God’s artistry. I took a few pictures, and wanted to take one for the magazine, so the boys started to move as I put my pen to paper and prepared to take a picture.

The silence was pierced by the sound of a rattlesnake along with the screaming of boys! I never expected a rattler to sound so large and so ominous in the still morning air! It is a sound I will never forget! A sound that really does make your blood run cold! My one son was scaling the rock, screaming trying to get to me, and on instinct I grabbed him by the shoulders and hauled him over my back onto the ground behind me, the other screaming and running by the side. We ran back to the trail then just stood there wondering, “did that just happen!”

All three of us were pale, looking like we’d seen a ghost, the youngest in a mild case of shock. His face was white, his lips almost a slight tone of green but his eyes looked scary! His pupils were so dilated we said that he looked like alien boy with black eyes! We took a deep breath there for a minute before all saying at once, “let’s get the heck out of here!” The youngest held tight to my hand as we walked, the oldest non stop talking, like he was getting all the fear out of his system through his mouth. When he tried to point out the obvious, I tried to make him shut up.

“Mom, it was this big!” The snake went from the size of a dinner plate to the size of a boa constrictor, my youngest grip on my hand deathlike as Wolfgang started describing the fangs and rings on the snake. When I told him he was scaring his brother, he stated, “But he was right there between the two us, I mean right by the side of my head!” We’d gone from seeing him under a rock, to dodging the fangs of the snake in a true Tarzan fashion. Max didn’t say a thing, just walking faster, his eyes darting down on the trail. The situation gets worse, when the oldest points to a scrape on my youngest’s leg and says, “Is that a snake bite?” Now, Max looks like he’s ready to swoon processing the information that he could ACTUALLY have a snake bite on his leg. I stop them both and start with the oldest, “Will you PLEASE stop talking about the snake, and it is NOT a snakebite!”
“But it looks like two holes,” he says looking at Max’s leg, Max looks almost green now.

“Believe me, Max, if you’d gotten bitten by a snake – YOU’D KNOW. And Wolfgang, you mention the snake again and I’m going to bite you myself!” Both boys are now quiet as Wolfgang ponders what it would feel like for his mother to bite him and would it hurt more than a snake bite and do Mom’s have poison while Max just keeps looking at his leg, praying that it’s not a snake bite.

Wolf decides to change the subject in a MUCH MORE PLEASANT way, “Doesn’t it feel eerie in these woods, almost scary. Is that thunder I hear?” I’m waiting at this point for the youngest to just pass out and I’ll have to carry him the mile back to the car. We walk a little further, he looks back, “What? Did you hear that?” With a sign, I just keep walking.

Max stops, “I dropped the waterbottle.”
Wolf and I look at him, “Max, who cares. I’m not going back to get it,” I reply.
“Isn’t that littering?”
“Saving your life or worrying about a waterbottle, I’d choose saving your life,” I say and Max smiles.
The oldest stops and thinks for a second, “What if it was your phone?”
I ponder, would I let a snake keep my phone? “I could always get another phone, and snakes don’t make phone calls.”

This moves them to the age old game, what’s important enough to endure a snake bite, “What if it was a million dollars left by the snake, what a bout a trillion dollars, what if it was your Forsyth Woman pen?” I finally get the subject changed when I reply, “For the million bucks, I’d throw you at the snake, grab the money and you and then take you directly to the hospital.” They spend time on the walk back wondering if I’d really throw them at a snake.

Thunder. The youngest hates thunder. We’re sprinting back to the car as huge raindrops start to fall, didn’t make it dry but everyone is safe and sound in the car. Max spends the ride home tending to his scrapes with about 6 Bandaids, while Wolfgang talks about how big the snake was (we’re into pre historic sizes now and he was wrestling the snake as it tried to bite him.) \

I know things are going to be OK when I hear, “Mom, he won’t let me play his iTouch.”

The poor crab....

Poor crab, moseying along on top of the female crab (if you know what I mean) when down comes this big green net and he's plucked out of the water!

Three kids, and one dog stare at him...his pinchers go up because he's pissed! Interrupted and now sitting in a small trash can with two other little crabs looking at him like, "Yeah, got us too...doesn't this suck?" He'll get his revenge, just wait....

The dogs sniffs the can, the kids think of him as a pet, "We'll name him Ocean, right?" "Or should be call him Blue?" Adults know that if they look the other way, he'll be called "dinner." The crab waits.....

"See this one? It's a crab...." The finger comes a little close and he waits patiently for his chance.....wait for it, wait for it.....

OUCH! He's flung up and out of the trash can back to the deck, and scurries with a plunk into the water. The kids look at one very red finger, "Oh well, he wanted to get back to his wife anyway."

Love it when they think the crabs have to be married to mate (doing my job, I guess) and he gets away as the youngest learns the lesson, don't poke any body part around angry blue crabs with pinchers!

He scurries around in the water, not noticing the green net sneaking up on him!!