January 2019 - Rachel What If

How to be a beginner: A girl’s guide to snowmobiling and other scary stuff.

My forearms are aching a little as I write this, and my right thumb is pretty sore. I finally got that floating feeling I think you’re supposed to get when your sled is gliding along the surface of mad powder. You couldn’t have asked for a better day. Blue skies, layer shedding heat, and stuck city. Being stuck on a snowmobile is great, as long as it’s not you. If no one is getting stuck, either the snow isn’t great, or everyone is playing it too safe (no one is playing it too safe, except maybe me.) Although my sled somehow found itself submerged a handful of times throughout the day, I still walked away from the day with a deep pleasure and satisfaction that I skillfully and gracefully (I only mumbled a few inappropriate words) made it through another fear-crushing day.

Snowmobiling scares me. In a “what if I die today” kind of way. I’m sure I don’t have to explain the many, many things you can think of that could turn a beautiful day in the back-country into a serious nightmare. Still, there seems to be a big part of me that craves this adventure. People who know me would most likely not describe me as one who “lives on the edge.” According to the Aerosmith version, I’m not. I have realized however the importance of taking risks, and confronting your fears. So, here, in no particular order, are a few things that are critical to success when beginning snowmobiling, or anything else that scares you to death.

Ride with the Big Boys…and Girls

For several obvious reasons, it’s best to do things like this with a group of people. Not just any people, but the ones who know what they are doing. My husband has been riding snowmobiles, and other motorized fun machines, since he could stand up. He speaks the language, diagnoses the problems, and inspires the competition. Most importantly, he loves it. It is a part of who he is. Words can hardly express the reverence and respect he has for the untouched parts of the world he gets to experience on a machine. These are the people to learn from. They live for and love what they do, and they do it on a regular basis. They also welcome those who are willing to try. But, you’ve got to be out for the right reasons. Be ready to fail, ask for help, and be humble enough to follow direction. Don’t let your ego get in the way.

D.B.A.I.

Don’t Be An Idiot. I know this may seem harsh, but it’s been a running joke in my family over the last few months. It’s kind of like Jeff Foxworthy’s old line “Here’s your sign.” Last week, a foot of heavy, wet, -perfect for playing in- snow had dropped overnight and I had to go to work. I was also running late, and knew it would be a long, slow drive on icy roads. When I went out to start my car, the door handles wouldn’t budge. My car was covered in ice and snow. I stomped back into the house and asked for a “little help.” My husband kindly came out and tried pulling all the door handles. I looked at him with raised eyebrows, thinking “How am I supposed to get to work with my doors frozen shut?” Finally, my 17 year old son asked if it was possible the doors were locked. What? Much to his delight, my doors magically and effortlessly opened after pushing the unlock button on the remote. D.B.A.I.

It is pretty funny when we do stupid things like my “frozen door” incident. All laughing aside, when you are in the back-country, or trying out new things, it’s best to do a little research first. Years ago, I found an article in a snowmobile magazine explaining, in detail, the steps for getting your machine unstuck. Going to battle with a 500 pound machine, waist deep in snow, can be defeating and debilitating. Aside from the right tools, and more hands, it helps if you have a little background knowledge. Because I had spent a little time reading up on a skill I would inevitably need, I am able to get myself out of some difficult situations. As I mentioned before, your going to need the help, but no one wants to do all the heavy lifting for you all the time. Don’t be an idiot.

Get New Goggles!

There’s nothing worse than fogged up goggles. On my last ride, I had to stop several times to wipe the fog out of my goggles. I tried riding without them, but it was snowing so hard I still couldn’t see the trail. “Just breathe less,” I kept telling myself. Really, breathe less? Anyway, my wonderful husband bought me a sparkly new pair of goggles, and I tried them out yesterday. I rode for about 10 minutes and was pretty happy to find that I could breathe and not fog up. To top it off, I also realized I could remove the protective film from the inside of the goggles and see clearly! I could see and breathe! Let’s not over complicate things. Remove the obstacles to joy. It could be some really simple things that are keeping you from amazing experiences and finding your talent.

I previously wrote a blog post where I discovered my need to make meaning out of every experience. Snowmobiling is something I never thought I would get good at or even enjoy. I still cry almost every time I go, but I also laugh, scream, and shout things inside my helmet I would never in my regular life. We all carry fears, rational or otherwise, that could be keeping us from our greatest potential. I will probably never be the best rider on the mountain but that isn’t my goal. I go because I know I need the adventure and the challenge. If I can do this, I can do other things, and I can inspire others to follow that path.

Would you share your fear-crushing story in the comments? Thanks for reading!

Lessons Learned from a 30 Year Veteran Teacher.

What if mothers are truly the best teachers?

My mom just got a new job. She has been teaching for the last 25+ years in a low-income, rural, marginalized elementary school. It sometimes takes her up to two hours to drive there over a rocky, four-wheel drive road. She finally bought a newer truck a couple of years ago, when her 1980 something Subaru couldn’t take the beatings anymore. She has taught every grade level and subject matter. The school has such a hard time retaining teachers and administrators that she sometimes bounces from art to 2nd grade to 5th grade in a single week trying to fill vacated positions.

I’m so proud of her motivation and drive to make the changes she has recently. While the position she has been in has been incredibly rewarding, all teaching takes a toll on people. The amount of energy, both physically and mentally, it takes to show up every day for a room full of wonderfully complicated little individuals is highly taxing. Obviously, teaching is her calling. A teacher produces lessons, manages people, models expectations, curates information, redirects unproductive behavior, builds relationships, and trusts herself and others.

Most importantly, my mother taught and still teaches me to the best and truest version of myself. As she is making this big change in her life, it has given me the opportunity to reflect on the things I am so grateful to have learned from her. These are ingrained in my identity and how I bring meaning to what I do and how the world works.

First, Get Outside

My mom has lived in a tiny house since before tiny houses were popular, but the house isn’t what matters, its the location. They live next to a beautiful little river in the country. The big windows are cluttered with several varieties of plants that have been alive longer than I have. If your there in the summer, you’ll sit on the deck, smell the sweet flowers, drink some lemonade, and dodge the hummingbirds as they fight to dominate the feeders. The deck is overflowing with my mothers flowers, so much so that if she is gone for a few days, the task of watering left to anyone else has them complaining about too many flowers (too many flowers?) I don’t know about you, but too much beauty is just annoying.

Create Something

I grew up in such a small town that if you look it up, it isn’t even listed as a town. It’s called an “unincorporated community.” I don’t know what that means. My mom divorced my dad when my older sister and I were very young. We moved away from California to this little place where apple and cherry trees were abundant, but people were not. Mom had to work several jobs to support us, and decided to go to college at 34. I really loved my childhood. She created a life for us by moving us to this magical little place. Looking back, I wonder how she also had time to work on her art. She loved to feel the sun on her skin as she carved little mosaics of glass in her outdoor workshop. It seems almost dreamy as my memories paint the picture of her leaning over her work in the warm fresh air, music playing, green trees swaying to the music she was playing in the background. It feels like freedom and peace to relive it now. Some of her work was installed in local businesses. I can’t wait to go back and see if they are still there.

Love Your Dog

When I was a kid, I was attacked by a neighbor’s dog on my walk home from the bus. I still remember begin tossed around while my leg was clenched in his teeth. I was taken to the hospital for stitches, and my injuries were actually pretty minor. When I got home, the neighbors asked me if I wanted them to have the dog put down. I think I was like 7 years old. I had been scared of that dog every day while walking home so I said yes. I later wished I hadn’t. We had a dog named Chomps that I loved very much. I actually remember having more feelings of loss when she died than I did when we left dad. Maybe that makes me a bad human. My mom has always had dogs, she has rescued homeless pups on her drive home from work. They are her partners and protectors when she is running alone on mountain roads. It’s hard to explain the connection humans have to their pets, it feels weird even saying pets. My step dad’s three-legged dog was practically the best man at my wedding and his ashes sit on their mantle. They love unconditionally. I have a dog, I love her. If you have a dog, you know what I mean.

Never Give Up

Never giving up is different than quitting. Leaving a position, or deciding to end a marriage may be viewed as quitting. Never giving up is being bound and determined for better. My mother knew we would have better lives if she left my dad. She is leaving the difficult teaching position she has given so much to, because she knows in her heart the new position is a healthier fit. Change is necessary, but horrifying. Every day can be a “get yourself together day,” as she would say, but its moving you toward better. Of course, there are hundreds more lessons I’ve learned from my mother, but the most important one is to never give up. The world is what it is. It is truly up to you to create the life you live and continue moving toward better. Thank you mom for being the best teacher I have ever had. I love you.

My beautiful mom!

Why Goals are Not about Finish Lines

What if there are no finish lines?

I love Crossfit. I just completed a workout and feel exhausted and grateful that I didn’t throw up. I used to be a runner. I have run several races of all different kinds. The most challenging being the Imogene pass run which challenges crazies to traverse a mountain peak from Ouray, Colorado to Telluride climbing to 13,114 feet in elevation and totaling 17.1 miles. My best time (out of 4 attempts) hovered around 4 excruciating, exhilarating hours. The fourth time I participated in this feat, I remember laying on the grass at the finish, wondering where the nearest hospital was, and what they could do to save me from dying. Needless to say, the fourth was my last. I’ve also run the Ragnar series twice, several half marathons, a full marathon, some triathlons, and most recently, a Spartan sprint.

Saying I used to be a runner makes me a little sad. I guess I will always be a runner in my heart, but I think my days of competing in races are behind me, aside from the annual Silverton Fourth of July 10K. Racing was the metric I used to measure my training, and it gave meaning to all that time and effort. I loved feeling like a part of something bigger, a culture to ascribe to, although a bit isolating. Even while participating in all those events, I didn’t feel enough. I never won. I never lost. No one knew me, I ran alone. I was comfortable here, until I wasn’t. Running was filling a need for me, but not the ones I really wanted to fill. Crossfit fills those needs almost every time I step into the gym, and then some.

The workout today was deceiving in that it looked doable: 4 rounds for time: 27 Box Jumps, 20 burpees, and 11 squat cleans. This is “Klepto” named for U.S. Air force Major David “Klepto” Brodeur, who was killed in Afghanistan on 4-27-2011, hence the number of rounds and reps in the workout. After the first round, I knew I would once again need to find the power in my mental space to focus and finish. “Just don’t stop,” “Just do 5,” or “If they can do that, I can do this,” are my mantras when I get into these tough workouts. These dedicated workouts present a unique opportunity to participate in something bigger than self. How else would I feel a small connection to a fallen soldier? I have a deep respect, as most do, for people who are called to serve in the military. Once upon a time I thought I would serve but my heart couldn’t follow through. It wasn’t right for me.

My Crossfit community is a model for what communities should be. People remember my name, and I am truly trying to remember theirs. I am there for myself, but also for them. When someone is struggling through, we are cheering their name. The coaches see me, they know my ability, they know when I am hiding from my goals. They celebrate with me when I PR. We all want to be better today than we were yesterday. Maybe best of all, it works.

As much as I loved it, running never helped me do pull-ups. Pull-ups are the impossible task I have held in high esteem forever. Anyone who can do a pull up, let alone any number of consecutive pull ups are practically elite athletes in my book. I started Crossfit almost three years ago, and a pull up, without assistance eludes me. Still, I haven’t given up, and to my surprise and delight, this may just be the year for me. The pull-up year. I’m getting closer. Turns out there is actually a progression for these things. You set a goal, you make progress, don’t give up, and guess what? You achieve it. My goals used to involve finish lines, now they involve pull-up bars. I don’t think I even believe in finish lines anymore.