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From Basketball Court to Hallway – The Journey Continues

Both Joshua and Kristie tried out for their school basketball teams.  Both failed to make it.  But they both wanted to play, so we were left with Jr. Jazz basketball through the recreation centers.   Andrew was signed up as well since he wants to do everything his older brother does.

Andrew – Kindergarten

So we started practices this week and today was the first set of games.   Andrew was at 9am this morning.   He is in Kindergarten, and his is in an “instructional” league.   They only meet 1x per week for an hour on Saturday mornings.  They do 30 minutes of instruction with their coach and a 30 minute game with another team.

It was totally awesome.  Both boys and girls were all smiles (and some confused looks) when the game started.  It was mayhem of the best kind.  Most of the kids tried to dribble, but some didn’t bother.  Two of Andrew’s teammates were bigger than all the others and got quite a few rebounds.  They would just grab the ball and sprint to the other end of the floor, no dribbling attempted, and throw up some monster heave at the hoop.  And of course there was the sliding, jumping on balls, an occasional mild push (nothing serious or with ill intent).  They were just having fun playing “monkeyball” as we called it as teenagers.

The officials were awesome as trainers.  They were helping kids understand how to throw in the ball from the sidelines, telling them to dribble, and coaching them about game play.  At one point they did blow the whistle on one of the big kids and explained he needed to dribble when moving with the ball, and then gave him the ball back.

Others were more skilled and would dribble and take some good shots.  Andrew was one of these and scored a few times.  I told him on one trip down to try passing, and he ended up with his first assist by passing to the other kid who seemed to have some skill/experience.

To help the kids on defense they gave them all colored wrist bands.  Each player on one team had a different color, and it corresponded with the same color on an opponents wrist.   So if you had the blue band, you guarded the player on the other team with blue.   It was a cool coaching aid.

The kids had a blast, got to practice some skills, gained some hands on experience, and had good instruction from coaches and officials.  It was a grand time for everyone!

Kristie – 6th Grade

Kristie’s game was at noon at a different location.  Hers is a “competitive” league and they play four 8-minute quarters.  They got the schedules and team rosters on Monday and practiced once this week.  It was the same for everyone, so no team had a ton of time to practice before games started.

Both teams only had 5 girls.  (Kris actually only had 4, but another girl there saw them short handed and jumped in to play).  This game was much less of a “blast” and for the first time ever, I got thrown out of a youth sports event.

Getting Thrown Out

These girls are not Kindergarteners.  Next year they will all be trying out for middle school teams if they want.  They aren’t here for “instructional league.”  And yet the officiating was EXACTLY the same as for Andrew’s game.

There were absolutely NO fouls, traveling, or other such calls made in the first half.  The officials, two teenagers, did nothing but call possession when the ball went out of bounds and call a few jump balls when girls got tied up.   One of them was never even in position under the basket … he simply wandered around aimlessly, often giving us two officials up near mid-court.  He also seemed too scared to blow his whistle; the other one would make possession calls from across the court at times.  

When this officiating incompetence became clear to me near the end of the 1st quarter, I started talking to the official as he came by.  At first it was the wanderer.   He was right in front of me when I said, “You know they play sloppy like this because you let them.  If you’d blow that whistle they could learn to play better.”

Not even a response from him.  Not a word or a look in my direction.  He was happy to ignore me, ignore the game, and just get a paycheck for being there.  He was a lost cause.

About midway through the 2nd quarter they finally moved around enough to have the other official (who at least wasn’t afraid of his whistle) come past me.  To him I asked, “How are they supposed to learn to play the right way if you keep letting them play it wrong?”   He at least looked at me.  He replied, “Hey man, just leave me alone.”

Um, no.  I responded again, “Even on our team, could you call a foul, travel, anything?  Call it on my daughter, but call SOMETHING.”

“They aren’t doing anything wrong though.  I don’t want to hear another word from you.”

Nothing wrong?  I know Kristie had traveled at least half a dozen times, double dribbled twice, and committed who knows how many fouls.  Every girl out there was the same.  Pushing like crazy, hacking arms, walking all over with the ball, sliding every time they stopped.   It was bedlam much like Andrew’s game, ONLY THESE WERE 6TH GRADERS!!!  I was having none of it.

“You don’t see anything wrong?  You should be ashamed to get a pay check for this!”   **WHISTLE BLOWS**  He T’s me up to the desk and throws me out.   The second the whistle blew I was on my feet and walking out but told him one more time, “Ashamed.  You should be ashamed to get paid for this.”

My Expectations

I completely understand not seeing a foul, missing a travel, etc.  That happens.  I officiated high school games in Arkansas and it has happened to me.  Especially with only 2 officials instead of 3.  This wasn’t the case though.  These two had either made a decision to call nothing, or were incapable of seeing what was obvious and calling it.

I expect 6th graders to be officiated to a higher standard than Kindergarteners.  I’ll use Kris as my example, but it applies to every girl there as well.  How is Kris supposed to get better playing like that?

How does she learn NOT to travel if she isn’t penalized for doing it?  She won’t even recognize that what she is doing is wrong if it is allowed to happen.  Same with dribbling, carries, double dribble, etc.

And defense?  How will she learn to play good defense if she is allowed to play bad defense?   She won’t develop the instinct not to hack someone’s arm if the whistle isn’t blown.  They won’t learn good defensive posture and positioning if they learn that it works just fine to hang on somebody.  It is the officiating that teaches them where the line is between acceptable actions and penalties.

Kris will try out for the middle school team next year.  If she shows up and has been used to the standard of being able to travel, she will surely do it and be judged poorly by a coach.  Calling fouls and penalties on MY DAUGTHER will make her better. PLEASE DO IT!

And what about the highly skilled player?  You are robbing that one too.  If Kristie develops a killer cross over and pull up shot in the lane, she is robbed if the defender is allowed to hang on her as she changes direction to go by.  Kris would then learn by experience that the skill she worked to develop DOESN’T work, because the official allowed the defender to stop it without penalty.   So she doesn’t develop and her learning is stunted.

When bad officiating is present both the skilled and unskilled are penalized and will fail to improve.  What might be acceptable for Kindergarteners and some older grades should definitely be gone by the time they reach 6th.   This was worse than the 3rd/4th/5th grade games I officiated back East.   Just disgraceful.

Ejection Rescinded

So I sat in the hallway and watched the game through the open gym door.  At  halftime the official came to talk to me.   I explained to him what I just explained above.  He explained that he didn’t want to be yelled at.  I told him I hadn’t yelled.   I asked if I could come back in.  He said “Fine, but I don’t want to hear anything.”   Fine.

He walked in and then walked to the other court (behind a giant curtain).  When he came back he was with an older man in a green striped shirt.  He came walking over to me.

“Are you going to throw me out too?” I asked.

“Throw you out?  No! I’m the site supervisor though, would you tell me what is going on.”  So I told him about the utter lack of officiating, of my “be ashamed” insult, and of my expectations for players this age.  I also told him that when I pay to enter the league that I expect them to use that money for competent officials.

He totally agreed with me on expectations.  He said he would watch the game and see if he could see what I was describing.  When we were finished, he disappeared for most of the 3rd quarter but stuck his head around the giant screen a few times to watch for a moment.   During a time out on the other court he came over again and asked me about it.  I told him, still not one foul call.  I said one girl on our team lost control of her dribble at mid court and bounced it over her shoulder where it rolled down her back, she turned and picked it up and kept dribbling, all with no call made.   He looked aghast.   Nothing had changed.

Improvement… but still WOW!

So he made a change.  He took over the table at our game and sent the other kid to the other court.   During the last quarter break he talked to the officials and I could see he was trying to train them a bit.

To start the 4th, nothing had changed.   This supervisor had to call out from the table a few times, “That was a travel, you HAVE to call that.”   His presence and officiating from the table was the only thing that made it bearable in the 2nd half.   They were forced to at least LOOK like they were trying since the boss was there.

The one official that threw me out actually got better.  He called a few travels, and 2 fouls in the 4th quarter.  He might have hope with some training and experience.  The other was just as hopeless as the first half.   He wasn’t in position to see the plays, and he never blew his whistle except for possession calls when the ball went out of bounds.  He seemed like he was trying because the supervisor was there, but just didn’t have ANY idea how a basketball game should be played.  It was that or he just really didn’t care at all.

Afterward the supervisor came to me again.  He said that he has to write evaluations and a report after each day.   I had to provide my name and such so it could be recorded I was thrown out.  He said he will make sure there are improvements for next week and going forward.  He didn’t apologize for officiating being as atrocious as it was, but he did agree that it was unacceptably poor.

Joshua – 8th grade

Josh’s game was at 3pm at yet another location.  This team is largely made up of Joshua’s friends at school.   One of their Dad’s is coaching, but he told me, “I don’t know anything about basketball.”  So he is listed as being in charge, but he told me to please take over and help.  So now I’m unofficially coaching Joshua’s team.

This game was great.  Officials were good.  They missed calls of course, everyone does.  But they knew the game and made it fair.   The teams were fairly close in ability too.  Both teams have a couple of decently skilled guys, and a handful of question marks.   But even the question marks have decent skills and largely know the rules by this age.

The other team had one main scorer but it turned out Josh was able to shut him down.  The few times Josh had to come out for rotation of substitutes this guy would score and they’d take the lead.  Josh would come back and his scoring would stop and we’d take the lead.  It was fairly back and forth like this.

We were down 5 with about 3 minutes to go when I told the coach, “We’re at the point now that if you want to win we need to put Josh, Dallen, and Jarren back in.”   So he did.   The other team stopped scoring and with 25 seconds left we took a 1 point lead.  Josh fouled their decent player (and only other scorer) with 8 seconds to go.   Luckily he missed both (after making both shots on his previous trip to the stripe).  Our boys couldn’t handle the rebound though, and it was fumbled and ended in a jump ball, opponents possession.   2 seconds left and they called timeout.   They were given directions to not allow anything inside and to harass the scorer.   They got a pass in to another player who missed badly as time expired.   An exciting game made better by victory.

I made a point of shaking the officials hands and telling them good job.  I did rag one about a (correct) moving screen call though.  Who calls that in Jr Jazz?

Conclusion

I got ejected (kind of) from a youth sporting event.   I deserved it, but I wasn’t wrong either.

I’m not sure what to think of the fact that the boys had competent refs but the girls didn’t.   Was it a fluke that they had two bad refs? Or has Marv Jensen decided girls don’t deserve the same quality as the boys do?  I sure hope that isn’t it and assume it isn’t.

My other interactions with Marv Jensen Rec Center have all been positive with quick correction to the few errors made, so I hope that this is remedied as well.  ALL the kids deserve competent officials regardless of age or sex.  It is something I expect to receive as a customer paying outlandish prices.  And of the 6 officials I saw today 4 of them were great.

I’m sure I should conclude I was wrong to be insulting.   I was.  My characterization of their performance was spot on, but I could have left out the insult.

I’m glad I spoke up though.   The supervisor would have had no idea how bad things were otherwise.  Sure, he might have heard a complaint about bad officiating, but every official hears that.   But my being ejected drew enough attention for him to see it for himself and to realize it wasn’t a hollow complaint.  Hopefully it will spur some training (or firing) so that the customers (the kids) can get the most out of their experience.

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All About Roofing

Today’s Project

This is the west side of the roof over the front (north) door of the house.  This roof leaked last winter/spring, and I bet that you can understand why.  And since winter is coming, I thought I better go ahead and get this fixed, NOW!  I’d have done it long ago, but the projects that gave us living space have all seemed more important up until now.

Damage from leaking last winter/spring – before we lived here

The Demo

Thankfully all of the needed supplies and tools were here already.  Dad reroofed almost the entire house a few years ago and had plenty of extra packages of shingles just waiting for me to use.

The hardest part was taking those old shingles off.  As worn out and rotten as they look, they were still solidly attached to the roof.  The shingles in the open were fine, but that small section under the overhang… those were rough.  As that space disappeared it became almost impossible to get the nails out.   And the space to grab onto them was almost too small as well.

It took about an hour to get that portion cleaned out on both sides of the door.  Truth be told, I did end up leaving a portion of the old shingles on the East side.  No amount of pulling or mangling could get it released since that upper portion of house was built on top of the already shingled entry way.  But since it is well hidden it won’t be an eye sore, and being covered the way it is there is no way it will cause a water problem.

Roofing

When the demolition was complete we found that the tar paper was actually in really good shape.  On one side we left it in place, and on the other I did lay some new tar paper to cover a spot we ripped it while tearing shingles off.

As mentioned above, the shingles under the eaves had been put on prior to the eaves being built when the house was under construction 35+ years ago.  That made nailing down the shingles then easy to do.  Not so much today though.  There is no way to get a nail gun nor hammer into that space to secure the shingles with nails.

Instead, we glued them down.  After nailing each shingle down as much as we could, we used roofing tar to glue them in place.   No shingle is ONLY held by tar though.  We were sure to not to put any partial pieces in under that area that couldn’t be nailed.  Every shingle has at least 4 nails in it out in the open, and then some tar under the eave to glue that portion down.  I hope it will be just fine.

It only took about an hour of work to get the new shingles on.  It took more than a couple of actual hours due to the breaks I kept taking for my back and feet (ached terribly from standing on the ladder).   I knew this was going to cause a fair amount of pain, so I asked for help.  I guess my Elder’s Quorum (church group) dropped the ball on me.   C’est la Vie.

Siding

If you look closely at the photo you’ll notice that the fascia was never installed around this door.  Dad, who worked in construction his entire life (He was a project manager for building hospitals, shopping malls, and an LDS temple) never got around to finishing that small project.

So, after roofing, Julie and I decided that it was high time that it got done.   Again, all the supplies were here already.

Julie actually took over this portion of the project.  My back was killing me by the time we got to this point, so she found the items and started measuring and cutting.   She can do it all (must be part of her Cyborg programming).

(I wrote the previous paragraph while she was indeed out working and I recuperated.  After about 45 min I went out again and found she hadn’t put up any of the soffit or fascia, so I proceeded to do it myself while she went and got kids from school and ran them to/from various locations.  I left that paragraph in the post just to rub it in a little bit to her – a good natured laugh we were having).

Completed Project

 

More to Come

I wish that we were done with this, but it turns out there are 2 bay windows that Dad failed to re-roof as well a few years back.  So those are also on our to-do list this week.

 

 

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Halloween: How My Depression Saved a Man’s Life

*AUTHOR’S NOTE:  I wrote this and published it as private just a few days after Halloween 2017.  That was 6 months ago today.  After reading it you’ll understand why I didn’t publish it immediately.  It is the primary event that has stopped me from writing anything in the past few months.  I tried a few times after this, but I haven’t been great, and I’ve wavered on how much I really want to share.    So if any of you have been wondering why I stopped posting anything, this is the cause.  I’m just experiencing things that I’m not ready to share, and I don’t want to write dishonestly; telling you how good things are when I’ve been having a hard time.   So I just gave it up.   Maybe it’ll come back.   Maybe this will be the last ever post.  That isn’t decided.   

Please don’t judge me too harshly for this post.  I’m better than I was at this time.   I still don’t carry.  I still avoid public places.  I’m still getting treatment.  It will probably be a lifelong journey.   I hope you are all doing well out there!

Wait, What?

Yes that title is accurate.  There isn’t a slightly confusing twist that makes the headline misleading as I’ve done in the past.  This isn’t a play on words.  My depression (potentially) saved a man’s life this Halloween.

CWP

I have a active concealed weapons permit.   This permit allows me to legally carry a concealed weapon in 36 different states.   I have and DO carry a weapon.  Given the specific nature of the serious threats made against me and my family, I have religiously carried everywhere I go for several years.

Depression’s Role

That is, I carried everywhere up until a few months ago.   A few months ago I went through some depression more serious than normal.  Fearing that my sidearm would more likely harm me than defend me, I had it locked up in a family member’s safe that I don’t have access to.   It was a hard decision to make, because I’m considerably less comfortable in public places without it,  but it was something that the depressive state demanded that I do.

The Man Whose Life Was Saved

His name is unknown to me.   I don’t even know what he looks like.  I do know that if I hadn’t had the depressive episode a few months ago, and therefore hadn’t locked my sidearm away, that this man might not be around today.

Here’s how it happened…

Halloween

Joshua had been invited to a friends house/neighborhood to go trick-or-treating.  Around 9:15 Josh texted to say that they were done and he was ready to be picked up.  I had dropped him off earlier in the day, so it was I who went to pick him up.

When I had dropped him off, it was in a quiet subdivision on Bluffdale’s western most edge of 15000 south.   The sun had still been shining on the million dollar homes that make up the area.   There weren’t any kids out running around yet.  I have friends who live there.  It is a good area full of nice people.

When I returned it was well past dark.   It appeared most kids had packed up and returned home, because there weren’t many of them visible either.  There was, however, a full grown man in a mask walking down the middle of the road.  He was wearing what appeared to be a gorilla mask, gloves made to appear as gorilla hands, and what looked like a heavy set of Carhartt coveralls.

Our Meeting

He just stood there in the road as I drove closer.  I slowed down, not knowing what his intentions were.  I didn’t want him to jump in the way in order to scare me,  and then accidentally hit him with the van.  It’s hard to anticipate him doing anything that stupid, but you never know about people.  I drove past at just 5 or so mph, passing him on the driver’s side, with him only about a foot from the side mirror.  He didn’t say anything or even move, but just looked at me as I drove by.

So far so good.  I got past the guy without any problem, so I continued down the block a couple of hundred feet to where I was getting Josh.   I pulled over and texted that I was outside.  Then I looked in my mirror to watch the guy in the road (just be make sure he didn’t come my way).  I don’t like people enough to put up with strangers who think they are funny.

Another’s Meeting

Another car passed me going the other direction, toward the man.   This smaller white car slowed down and appeared to talk to him.   Probably somebody who knew him from the neighborhood and wanted to have some laughs together.   Suddenly the guy in the mask made a grab at the car door and looked like he was trying to open the door to get in.  The driver hit the gas and the car took off as the masked man gave a short chase running after him.

At this point my reasonableness went out the window and my PTSD kicked into “Oh Shit” mode!   My heart started racing and blood started pumping.  This guy had made a physical move against someone else.  He wasn’t safe.  He was a threat.  I had seen it happen myself.  I reached for my sidearm and, “F**K!” it wasn’t there. (Bold Italics are my thoughts).

He stopped chasing the other car and turned around and started coming toward me again at a walk.  I thought of just driving away and put the van into drive, but then it hit me, “S**T, Josh!”  And this guy is getting closer!

Defend My Family

I was in full panic mode.  Because of very real threats, my nights are filled with nightmares about people torturing me or my children.  And I was in a panic that here was a man willing to carry out those nightmares.  There was no chance that I was leaving my son in an area with this guy.

With no gun, I opened the glove box looking for any other weapon, a screwdriver, a pipe, string, anything.   “I can’t turn the van around in this street before he gets here, so I can’t use it as my weapon.” 

I settled on the van keys; they’d have to do.   I pulled them from the ignition and positioned them in my palm so that they would serve as a dull knife between my fingers as I punched.  I had my hand on the door handle and was playing out in my mind the number of steps to him, how he might react, what outcomes I might expect, etc.

He was still advancing and getting close.  At any minute Josh could come out of the house and this man could be closer to him than I was.  “I have to keep him from Joshua.”  I was just about to pull on the handle and get out, when the passenger door was flung open.   Joshua, smile firmly attached and bag of candy in hand, jumped into the van.

Cool Down

“Hi, Dad.”

“Breath!  Breath Jax.”   

“Hi, Josh.  Have fun?”  I check the mirror to see how close guy is getting.  He has stopped and is looking down a sidestreet.  Threat stalled.

I put the keys in the ignition.

“Oh Yeah.  We had a blast.  Feel how heavy this bag is.”

I hope Josh can’t tell something is wrong. “I’m fine” I tell myself.  “It’s Halloween and he’s not a threat. You’re safe. Just breath dammit!” 

“Looks good son.  Did you guys stay out of trouble? Cause any problems?”

Blood pressure is going down and levelheadedness is returning.

“We were good Dad.  No problems.”

“Good.  Let’s get out of here.”

I pulled off the curb, turned the van in a neighboring driveway, and started toward home.  This takes me past the man in the mask again.

2nd Meeting

I’m calm again.  Joshua is safely next to me.  No worries.  The panic only lasted 15-30 seconds, and having family around helps it to pass.

I roll down my window to talk to the guy.

“Hey man, I’m a PTSD vet.  Don’t do that again.”  I’m not sure how he takes this.  I meant it as a request to be thoughtful of others.

He laughs, “It’s just me man, your neighbor.”

“I don’t know you at all,”  I reply.

I think about adding, “you almost got yourself shot” but I don’t want him to think I’m threatening him, so I just leave it at that and drive away from him as he laughs again.

Hindsight

Like all of my PTSD panic episodes, I know the reasoning isn’t logical.  The thought process is flawed.  I’ll lead with that.  I know my reaction wasn’t normal.  That is why it’s a mental health issue.  That’s why I go to so many therapy sessions.

He didn’t do anything outlandish or wrong.  It was Halloween and he was out trying to make the night fun for the kids.   I bet he had kids laughing and shouting all night.   I figure he was playing around with a neighbor in the white car, someone who knows him.  He was probably the highlight of several peoples night.

I, however, wasn’t out to actively participate in Halloween.   I don’t think he knows the danger he was in.   That panic attack was real, and if I’d had my sidearm I probably would have been out of the van quicker than when I realized I didn’t have it.  Thinking I’d be going hand-to-hand with someone slowed me down.

The time it took me to “think” (in quotes because it isn’t an ideal way to describe thought processes during panic attacks) gave Josh time to get to the car, and Josh getting into the car shook me from the panic and helped my head clear.   It potentially saved this guys life, or my own, even though he was only out trying to have fun on a holiday.

I’m very, very thankful that it played out like this instead of any other way that involved violence.  Though of course I wish I didn’t have these attacks at all frankly.

Justified?

I’ve been thinking.  If some violence had occurred, either with firearm or without, would it have been justified?

A legal justification for violence against another is to protect others when fearful of death or harm.   I know he was out to have fun now, but at the time I legitimately thought he was a threat.   Would it be reasonable to say I was scared for my life and the life of my son when this mans intent was obviously TO SCARE people?  If his intention is to scare someone, and it works too well, then what?

Effects

I’ve been okay during the day.  Not any more stressed than normal, but nights have been worse. I routinely have nightmares about violence anyway.  They’ve been worse in the days since this happened though.  They’ve been particularly violent and disturbing.   Lots of fighting.  A lot of torture.   Thankfully all involving me, not Julie or the kids.

Almost every night I have woken in sweats.  I try to hold Julie to calm myself, but I hate to wake her.  She works so hard anyway (here, here, and here), and the kids will be up early getting ready for school, so I try not to disturb her.  She needs rest more than I do.  So I lay next to her and listen to her breath (snore?) and try to let the stress pass.   It’s a bitter and lonely time, but it’s better than the terrors that come with sleep.

I mentioned this event during my weekly group therapy session.  I talked about the panic and my reactions and thought process.  We talked about how others have had similar reactions to events and how they dealt with it.  Everyone agreed that this man obviously had done nothing wrong, but about how nice it would be if people could understand how some innocent things create massively negative reactions for persons with PTSD.

PTSD Thoughtfulness

This guy’s attempt at fun put me into a full on panic.  His attempt at entertainment made me feel that it was quite likely that either myself, my son, or this stranger was going to die that night.   It was only 15-30 seconds, but the feelings were intense and real.  A momentary hell.

It would be completely unreasonable to expect everyone to think, “I better not do anything scary on Halloween just in case there is a PTSD vet driving by.”  That would be an odd thing, right?   Who would make a decision that way?  Nobody, right?

So I don’t blame him.  With hindsight, I see he did nothing wrong.  The consequence was terrifying for me, and could have been fatal, but there was no way to foresee that coming in order to prevent it.  And on Halloween of all days, it is almost expected.   On any other day of the year I’d be livid, but for that day…   what can I say?

And I know my reaction wasn’t normal either.  That’s why I don’t go out into very many public venues.  That’s why I avoid large groups of people.  It’s why I am seeing doctors and getting treatment.  It’s a huge reason why I wish I still had Iris around.

I wish more people were thoughtful of PTSD in moments like this; or fireworks on the 4th of July and their effect on combat vets.  It’d be nice, but there is no way to reasonably expect it.

If you happen to live in this man’s neighborhood, or know who he was, you might just share this story with him.  He might find it worth laughing over again, or he might be horrified to know how close he was to a violent conflict.  Who knows, maybe it’ll make next year’s Halloween even scarier and more entertaining for him!

Feedback

So… what are your thoughts?

Did he do anything wrong?

Did I do anything wrong?

It thankfully didn’t occur, but is there more I could have done to prevent a violent encounter?

If one had occurred, where would the moral/legal responsibility lie?

Any other thoughts you have?

 

 

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Running Log: Cross Country 9/7/2017

9/7/2017

Location: Bluffdale City Park

Participants: NorthStar Academy, Summit Academy, Ascent Academy, Eagles

Course: 2 laps around the mostly flat city park.

Results

Both Joshua and Kristie participated in another Cross Country meet.  Josh continues to suffer from Osgood-Schlatter disease in his knee.  Because this course was 2 laps of a city park I was able to position myself near the 1 mile point and give them their times as they came by.

My perception was that Josh was far worse in positioning than last week due to the knee pain.

Kristie appeared to fair much better on the flat ground than she did in the rocky hills at Providence Hall.

This post is late in coming because the school never sent out official results.  I was waiting for them to come before I posted, but am now posting it without them.  If I can round them up later I will update.

UPDATE

Joshua finished 17th with a time of 14:37

Kristie finished 10th with a time of 16:26

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Hiking Timp

Memories of Timp Hikes Past

Picture courtesy of: Mount Timpanogos Facebook page

As a teenager, I recall many hikes up Timpanogos Mountain ( Timp ).  Only one of these hikes occurred during the day.  Many hikers like to make this hike on a full moon.  We try to time things just right so we can be sitting on the summit and watch the sunrise.  Having lived my whole life under the shadow of this mountain, sunrises weren’t nearly as spectacular as sunsets for me.  It would often be full daylight before sunlight ever reached my yard.  But then I watched my first sunrise from the top of this majestic mountain.  It is quite the thing to witness.

Photo by Dwight Prince on Facebook

Like I said, I made this hike a number of times as a teenager.  Every year with our youth group, once with family, and a number of times with different groups of friends.  One time I hiked to the top from the Aspen Grove trail, but all of the other times we took the Timpooneke trail.  There were times that we stopped at the “saddle,” but most often I made it to the summit.  Many people slide down the glacier from the summit but I never took that venture.  We often met and were scared by the “resident moose.”  Once we stopped and played around Emerald Lake.  I don’t remember any “bad” trips up the mountain.  We had aches and pains, but I don’t recall serious injuries.  It was a fun hike which I anticipated every year.

Passing on my passion

And so I decided to try and share these memories with my children.  Caitlin (15), Josh (13), and Kristie (11), each decided they wanted to try hiking Timp with me.  I invited Charlee (9), but she said she doesn’t like the dark or heights so she was happy to stay at home.  I invited my sister, Jenni, and she was as giddy as I was.  She brought along her oldest boy, Jake.

I watched the full moon schedule, tracked the snow melt, watched the weather and waited for the right time to hike.  We tried to go up in early August, but our adventure was thwarted by thunderstorms.  (My dad took scouts up there once and got caught in lightening…Yeah, not something I wanted to do with my kids.)  And so we set the date for Labor Day.  I was so excited.  My kids…not so much.  They haven’t really done any hiking and didn’t know what to expect or anticipate.

Packing

I packed up apples, 2 different kinds of trail mix, 3 large Poweraides, 3 water bottles, and 2 camelbacks.  We had 2 head lamps, 1 mag-light, 2 other flashlights, extra batteries, a pair of hand held radios, a first aid kit, and some random survival supplies. There were 2 backpacks with 3 poweraide/water bottles each, for the kids to trade off carrying along with one camelback.  I carried the rest.  (Yes, I am a mother who packs WAY too much for her brood, but I was able to heft the heaviest pack so…)

Labor Day Morning:  12:30 AM

I slept through my alarm so Jenni woke me up at 12:30 AM.  It’s a good thing she was driving, I would have missed it.  We stopped at Walmart for some snacks: bananas, grapes, pop tarts, jolly ranchers, and chewy sprees.  (Most of which I hauled but we didn’t eat.)  Then we headed up American Fork Canyon to the Timpooneke trailhead.  The parking lot was nearly full when we arrived at 1:30am.  (Hiking Timp is very popular) We took some pictures and were off!

Altitude Sickness or Sleepy Sickness

We hiked through the dark for about an hour at a nice slow pace.  A number of groups passed us (mostly college kids), but we weren’t worried.  Slow and steady wins the race, right?!?

Everything was just fine until Jake started getting sick.  His stomach hurt and our breaks became more regular and lasted longer with each one.  Thinking it might be dehydration, Jenni and I encouraged him to keep drinking water.  It is amazing what water, and lack thereof, will do to your body.  But things continued to get worse.  We made it to the meadow above scout falls when Jake really started feeling poor.  We had already seen 2 sets of hikers headed down.  Both stated they had a sick hiker.  I turned to Jake and told him, “Look!  Even big college kids sometime have to turn around.  We will stop if you need us to.”

Both Jenni and I were torn.  We didn’t want to separate, but the looks on the faces of the kids at the thought of turning around was heartbreaking.  Caitlin, Josh, and Kristie were pretty disappointed at the prospect, but they weren’t excited about the thought of leaving Jake either.  Jake couldn’t fathom hiking another 3+ hours to the top, but didn’t want to be the reason we all turned around.  Finally, Jenni suggested I take the older three while she and Jake tried to sleep for a bit and we would keep in touch via radio.  We split up…and around 4:00 AM, Jenni radioed to let us know that they were headed back down the mountain.  On the way to the parking lot, Jake threw up (that probably helped the most).  By the time he got home, he was feeling great.

Going on alone

My kids were still determined to reach the saddle, but their energy level plummeted after leaving their cousin behind.  Instead of joking and singing, there was silence.  Breaks were still fairly regular as our altitude increased rapidly.  Just a little perspective, the hike to the basin (or what we always called the meadow) is about 5 miles and rises over 3,000 ft in altitude.  We made it to the meadow around 5:45 am (a little over 4 hours of hiking).  We were only about 2 miles from the summit but the kids were beat.  They wanted to rest for a minute.  I knew if they stopped they would never go again, but I also didn’t want to make their first hike a miserable one.

I went off in the trees to use the bathroom and by the time I got back, the kids were snoring.  Seriously, they huddled up together against the cold and fell asleep and started to snore.  I knew we were done but I wasn’t too disappointed.  They had done a really hard thing and it was pretty amazing.

This is a picture of our “camping” spot that I took when the sun came up.  Below is a picture that Caitlin took when I was trying to rouse my minions in hopes of climbing higher.  They weren’t too keen on the idea.

Rescue Chopper

While listening to the sonorous sounds of snoring…I heard a rescue helicopter coming near.  It came up over the saddle and circled for a  solid 20 minutes.  I had never seen rescue people up on Timp before and hoped that they were just checking the area since it was a holiday and there were so many hikers.  But that wasn’t so…

As the sun rose and the kids and I were traipsing  about the meadow, the chopper came back and landed.  We watched them pull out a gurney and some of their supplies.  There were no hikers in the area of their landing (we knew cause we had been all over that area messing around).  So they were going to have to hike to the injured party and then carry them back to the chopper.  So we decided to begin our decent.

view from the basin

As I said before, the meadow is less than 2 miles from the summit but more than 1500 ft higher in elevation.  Here are a couple of pictures that I took to show the kids where we were trying to reach in the dark.  The first picture shows the summit (even if it is a little out of focus).  For their first hike I really only expected us to get to the saddle (picture #2).  Alas, after listening to rescue choppers, I was satisfied with our hike and extremely grateful for our safety.

Enjoying the scenery on the way down

One good thing about hiking in the dark is that you don’t see how far you still have to go.  It is easier to get into a rhythmic routine of “just keep hiking, just keep hiking, hiking, hiking…All you have to do is HIKE…HIKE.”  (Thanks Dory for the theme song)  It is also cooler.  As the sun hits the trail it can get unbearably hot…fast.  I ache for the people just starting their accent as we reach the bottom.  Along with the heat of the sun, we have the light to show us the beauties and perils we crossed in the dark.  The kids looked around, amazed by the beautiful meadows, and foliage, the treacherous shale crossings, and the awesome views of the canyon below.

We even saw two moose eating just off the trail.  They are hard to see in the picture but I assure you, I didn’t really want to get much closer.  When they brought up their heads and looked directly at me…I froze…hoping they wouldn’t spook and charge.  Thankfully they went right on grazing.

The Down Beat

The hike down was always the worst for me as a youth.  And 8 kids later was no exception.  One of the ligaments in my hip hurt so bad I could hardly lift my leg.  My knees didn’t really appreciate all of the pounding. And Kristie complained of tired feet as we reached the parking lot.

But 5 days later as I right this post I have almost forgotten the pain and really do want to go at it again.  Next time (next year) we will make it to the summit of Timp!