The quietness of the morning is almost disconcerting, the boys being at mom's. But more than disconcerting it is restful and delicious.
Joey is sleeping in, taking advantage of one day in the middle of a lot of long long days.
The ride up to Bear Valley for the Tough Mudder was long and beautiful. The trees growing right out the side of the road, the rock mountains jetting up to the blue sky. It seemed like forever that we wound up the mountain, curving and curving and curving. If I was a carsick person I definitely would have puked.
We followed a river for a good part of it, the water bubbling over rocks, foamy and dark, like beer. Despite the chilly temperature (44 degrees!) there were people camping and fishing all along the side of the river. I watched the smoke from their fires curl up and disappear in the sky.
And as we curled up that mountain, not saying much, I tried to keep my mind in check. My thoughts felt just like the road: turn after turn after turn; hill after hill after hill; sometimes the turns would be so sharp, you wouldn't know what was on the other side. And that's exactly how my mind felt: never-ending, unpredictable, edgy. Like if I wasn't keeping my thoughts in complete control they might just roll right off the side of the mountain, into crazyland.
When Joey did finally start talking about something, I thought, Thank God! But even in the midst of conversation I felt my thoughts drifting, curving, roaming to some unknown place.
Scares the freak'en pants offa me.
So then we were there and there were a ton of San Fransisco hippies and cops and firemen and military people, because these are the types of people who do this stuff. I quickly lost Joey in registration and thought OK, that was that. Now to wait for it to be over.
But, thank the good Lord, another wife showed up and we walked around the mountain for three hours, meeting the boys at three of the 19 events to cheer them on and give them a drink of beer.
It looked like a lot of fun to me, and I have decided I want to do it, as long as I can convince some friends, or at least one, to do it with me. (Anybody game?)
PS We only saw one lady fall into the fire.
(Anybody still game?)
I wore pants and a long sleeve shirt and then brought a down coat, gloves and a scarf thinking I was going to freeze my bootie off, but instead found myself sticking my hands up my shirt in an effort to get some airflow and looking out for any random scissors because I wanted to cut my sleeves off (of a brand new shirt, no less). I didn't bring the sunscreen because I pictured my face being wrapped up in my scarf with the wind chill ten below, so consequentially this morning my nose is fried and I might as well be Rudolf the Red Nose Reindeer, dang it.
After it was all over Joey and I talked on the windy way down, about my crazy mind, and just saying things out loud seemed to put the little effers in their place. My husband is a fabulous, extremely steady friend. It seemed like it took us three hours to get up that mountain, and about five minutes to come down, and that's what a good conversation will do.
Today we will go to church, childless. And although getting ready to go without any whining, screaming or disobeying will be wonderful, I think I am starting to miss them and am looking forward to picking them up. I can't wait to see their smiles full of white, tiny teeth and to feel their soft doughy cheeks, their giggles and hugs getting my mind off that damn mountain.