Mach3Multisport.com

I have pretty good luck, though it is very specialized. I cannot win at poker, the lottery, or the monthly TTG raffle (the only times I have won, the lone prize sitting on the table was something like a crumb from an old Powerbar or perhaps a three cent gift certificate for acupuncture).

I am, however, lucky when it comes to board games (Never challenge me to a game of Cranium. Don’t. Just don’t. Seriously, I have an illness.),Wheel of Fortune (the contestants drive me nuts, stop paying for vowels you imbeciles!), Jeopardy (Ken Jennings might be an alien), and time.

I believe in time gods, who take note of everyone who is on time or early and grants them extra time when things don’t go their way. Just when you think you’re going to be late, a light will change to green or your kids will miraculously get their shoes on quickly.

On the flip side are chronic late people, those who think that being ten minutes late is just dandy. If you and I are meeting somewhere and you saunter over ten minutes late my head is spinning around and fire is coming from my eyeballs. If you show up on time, you’re already ten minutes late, I say! I have been banking time since 1977, when I arrived one day early for my birthday.

Today, I had to be granted some time leeway from the time gods. I have a tiny time window wherein I get my 5-month old into his car seat, pack up my 2 year old, pick up my 4-year old and dash off to the YMCA before their childcare goes into hibernation until evening. This is called “swim time”.

I went to start my car to get Peyton and realized the battery was dead. One of the overhead lights had been left on since the last time I drove. The last time I drove was Sunday, so the battery was very dead. I hooked up the jumper cable box thing and heard nothing. No time for charging! Plan B.

I loaded the baby and the toddler into the tiny, tiny pick up truck that my husband drives occasionally (he bike commutes to work), and prayed for the engine to start (“pray” here means “turned the key”). It started, but the “distance to empty” display was flashing “0”, making me quickly back up and get to a gas station. Somehow I made it to the gas station (fumes, perhaps? Or was it the time gods?), then to Peyton’s school. I looked at the clock and found I was only a few minutes behind schedule – I’d be able to make it to the Y for a swim after all.

Most notable thing about this story? Six weeks ago I would have tried starting the car, found it dead, walked to pick up Peyton and bagged the swim altogether. Training, I daresay, has become a priority.

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written by Kyle, August 08, 2008

Your awesome!! Your husband bike commutes....WOW what a guy! I need to take a couple pointers from you about making training a priority.

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