Ironman Sunday

Yesterday was the Lake Placid Ironman. The closing of the roads for the race is always something to be planned around, as once I go down to the farm I am normally there for the day. I’ve grown to appreciate the discipline every summer. You WILL work on this project for eight to ten hours. No decisions, no distractions.

However this year Lucy rose early and biked the seven miles into town at 6 AM to cheer at the race with friends. Because she grew up attending our summer camp, she had never seen the heart of the race up close. She would not be able to bike back due to the road closures, but I told her I would pick her up before noon and we’d take the long detour through the mountains to get her home in time for her job. I figured it might burn an hour, but I wanted her to have this happy day.

“You’re a great mom!” exclaimed the state trooper at the first traffic stop who listened to my explanation and allowed me to pull over and wait for Lucy to arrive. I was gratified but startled. I understood better after inching through mile-long traffic snarls at each place the race crossed an intersection. It took over two hours to make our way home.

However Lucy had a fabulous time. Our little town center was transformed into a Mardi Gras. With the roads closed, everyone was in the streets, laughing and cheering and buying food from stalls. She and her friends wore glitter and temporary race tattoos, made posters to wave, rang cow bells, screamed to encourage the passing athletes, and ate pounds of sugary treats.

The only downside was having to leave. Next year she will know to arrange to have the day off.

*    *    *

When I was not driving, Stash and I were at the farm. After mucking the barn and bringing the cattle in, we began our chores by weeding the lilacs, pulling the raspberries, blackberries, and quack grass that are choking out the baby bushes. Here is Stash looking noble (actually watching the chickens down in the barnyard).


Ripping up the dirt had some appeal and he offered his services.


When I declined firmly, he sighed with resignation.


Soon the biting midges drove us indoors and we spent our remaining hours cleaning and sorting in the farm garage. The truck has a load ready to go to the dump this morning. We head out soon to bring in the cows, go to the dump, and buy tractor fuel before Kyle arrives at 9 AM.

These baby steps of measurable progress are so heartening.


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