May 15, 2018

Rindi and Lance, ready to roll!

This picture was taken just moments before Lance and I went careening full speed off the trail, landing in a heap of dirt and scrub bushes.  But let me back up a bit...

About twenty-five years ago, I got into rollerblading.  I had long loved rollerskating, so when rollerblades were all the rage, I joined right in.  I have many awesome memories of riding the streets of my small country hometown at the beautiful hour just after sunset, when the smell of freshly mown hay fills the air, the air temperature is absolutely perfectly pleasant, and all the world has a faded glow signifying the end to another summer day.  I can close my eyes and still hear the rolling wheels of our rollerblades rhythmically skating on the road beneath us.  Left foot, right foot, left foot, right....  We also loved to rollerblade along the Ogden River Parkway in the evening, getting an awesome total-body workout accomplished before completely cancelling it out with a large cup of Nielson's Frozen Custard.  Those were the days.

Time passed.  And eventually the large pile of rollerblades was collecting dust in my parents' garage.  Somehow I stopped my mom from throwing them out, brought them to my own garage, and let them collect dust on my own terms.

Until last week...

I strapped those babies on my feet and gave them a whirl around the basketball court.  Wow.  Rollerblading is so much fun!  And after twenty years, I've still got skills!!  At least that's what I told myself as I weaved around my kids trying to actually play basketball on the court.  My daughter, Emma, was laughing her head off with me.  She turned on some 90s music, pulled out her phone to capture the moment, and we got right down to business making an MC Hammer/Mom-on-Rollerblades/Dunking-the-Basketball type video.  It was awesome.  And you'll just have to take my word for it.

As I unstrapped those old blades, I had a thought forming in my head.  Lately my knee has been bothering me.  I've struggled to run without my knee getting super stiff.  And even walking has been making it really sore.  I have been missing the wind in my face and the open road while I exercise.  I stared for a moment at my rollerblades. Could I become an actual rollerblader?  Like, someone who does this on a regular basis?!

Greg wasn't so sure.  "You are nearing forty years old," he reminded me.  "You can't go around rollerblading.  You'll hurt yourself!"  I assured him of my "skills" and told him I'd be perfectly safe, especially since I still had the black and purple wrist guards I snagged from my mom all those years ago.

So began my first week as a rollerblader.  And all was going pretty well.  Julia wanted to be my partner, and she did really well "trying" to keep up with her old mom.  :)  I had lots of wind-in-my-face, out-on-the-open-road kind of moments.  This was awesome.  It was like running.  But not.  I was super happy.

On Saturday, I hatched a really ambitious plan.  While the girls were down at the sand courts playing in a volleyball tournament together, I loaded all of the boys' bikes, Lance's stroller, and my rollerblades into the Escalade.  Greg only shook his head a little in pure amusement.

We headed to a new beautiful trail along the Virgin River.  It immediately headed off of the soccer fields and into a shady canyon.  The boys and I were having a great time.  I was pleasantly surprised to see that I could rollerblade fast enough to mostly keep up if the big boys rode casually along.  We went up and down hills, over a fantastic bridge, and kept the river in our sights.

Owen, Miles, Austin, and Lance

After a while, Owen (on his bike) and I were getting a bit tired.  We were pushing our way up a really steep hill.  I was trying to maneuver the stroller and give Owen a little push on his back so he could make it up the hill.  But this hill was too tough.  He had to walk his bike up to the top.  Every other time we had encountered a downhill portion of the trail, it had quickly leveled off or even gone back up.  I had felt pretty confident going down the hills up to this point.  As we reached the top of this arduous hill, I looked down to see the big boys waiting at the bottom.  They were standing next to their bikes at a fork in the trail.  Owen had already crested the hill and was heading down to his brothers.  I got started on the downhill before I properly assessed my situation.

My first thought was, My! This is a big downhill!  In the time it took me to realize that Lance (in the stroller) and I were reaching top speed, I had noticed a couple of things.  The boys were standing at the bottom, blocking the right side of the trail.  The trail forked and continued past the boys but it dipped even lower toward the river, and there was a group of people coming up that part of the trail.  The other part of the fork was a sharp turn to the left where the trail seemed to level off.  In a split second I had to make a decision.  I felt I had three options:  1. Crash into the boys.  2. Swerve around them and continue speeding downhill where I would surely crash into the group of walkers, especially since I already felt myself losing control.  Or 3. My last option seemed to be to try to make the sharp left turn to level ground.

I chose the third option.  I gripped that stroller as tightly as I could and pulled against the centrifugal forces at play, trying to make the turn.  I knew immediately that we wouldn't make it.  That's why I screamed.  In a wild blur, Lance and I flew right off the trail.  I felt the stroller tip out of my hands as I let go of it instinctually to brace my own fall.

There was a puff of desert sand and thistles and leaves as we landed in a heap in some bushes.  Before I could even process what had happened, I was crawling on my knees toward Lance.  I was scooping him up and ripping off my wrist guards all in one motion.  My other boys were immediately by my side, white-faced and worried.  Lance was hysterical, but all I could find was a bloody knee and a scrape on the side of his head.  I was hugging him and trying to soothe him right there under the bush when I noticed out of the corner of my eye that the walking group had now made it up to us.  I've thought this through a hundred times, but other than slowing down their walk to glance at us (probably checking that we were all okay) they didn't even stop to talk to us.  I'm certain they must have seen me flying down the trail.  And I was screaming for part of it.  And now here I sat on the side with my little boy screaming hysterically.  Even if the crash was blocked from their view, they must have been able to figure out what happened?!?  It's okay, though.  My other three boys were so very attentive.  They helped us get up.  I dusted off a whole layer of weeds, most of which were poking into my pants and shirt and hair.

Once I was sure that Lance was okay, I put him gently back into the stroller, kissing his cheek and apologizing again for letting him get hurt.  Then suddenly, I wasn't so sure of my rollerblading "skills".  Miles helped me take off my rollerblades.  With socks on my feet, I walked the entire hilly part on the way back.  When it finally felt safe, I put them back on and left-right-left-righted my way back toward the parking lot.  The wind was blowing in my face.  The morning sun was warm.  My boys looked so cute on their bikes.  I said a little prayer in my heart thanking Heavenly Father that we were safe.

While unloading the bikes back at home, Miles (my 12-year-old) suddenly stopped and hugged me.  "I'm so glad you are okay, Mom.  That was really scary."  We stood embracing in the garage.  When Owen suggested that maybe we shouldn't go riding on a trail again, we had a nice long talk about trying new things and learning from our mistakes, and that sometimes we will get hurt when we try.  The boys all nodded in understanding.  All except Lance.  He was holding his knee and declaring that he didn't like mom's rollerblades!!

Last night, we went out again.  On the street where it is flat.  And I've worked a lot more on learning to use my brakes.  But to be sure, I wore a helmet, took our jogging stroller, which is completely enclosed, strapped Lance into his seat, and securely tied the stroller to my wrist.  After making all of those preparations, I was ready to hit the road.  Which is exactly where I found Julia rollerblading behind Austin's bike.  They were connected with a jumprope.  It looked all sorts of scary, but I just bit my mother lip and off we went.

It was that beautiful hour just after sunset, when the smell of freshly mown grass fills the air, the temperature is absolutely perfectly pleasant, and all the world has a faded glow signifying the end to another summery day.  I  might end up becoming a rollerblader after all. :)

Julia and Mom