Into the Archives 54-Cliff Dwellings

Today is Ranger Report day at Philmont and I'm missing New Mexico like nothing else. So I'm going back to my very first memory of New Mexico.
Sometime in 2004, we were on a road trip in the southwest and stopped at Bandelier National Monument (at least we are pretty sure that's what it was but it's been so long we're not sure). There, we hiked a short distance to the long-abandoned cave dwellings of the Pueblo people.

I only have wispy memories but I do remember climbing up into the little caves and being in awe that people had actually lived there and imagined what it might have been like had I lived there.

With a quick glance, this canyon almost looks like the scenery you see from the back country camp "Indian Writings" (appropriately enough). I had no idea back then how important this kind of landscape would become to me. The park is just a 3 hour drive from Philmont. *commence nostalgic whimpering*

Into the Archives 53-Baptism

It's been a few days short of 11 years since I was baptized. One of the best decisions I've made but a hard one because the process leading up to it was terrifying. I had a really bad case of stage fright when I was younger so having a spotlight on me in any form petrified me. I knew baptism was important and I wanted to do it but I didn't want anyone to come to watch. I just wanted to get it over with. I honestly don't know what I was afraid of. I wasn't afraid of water, I didn't think I was going to embarrass myself and I wouldn't have to do any talking if I didn't want to and yet anything that involved preparing for that day was very hard. It was a struggle because I wanted a say in how the program would go but whenever I was asked to give my input, I froze up and ran away. Somehow everything was coordinated and the day came.

My birthday happened to fall on a Sunday so I was baptized a few hours after church. I dressed in my little white jumpsuit so I felt like a karate kid as I did a few air drop kicks in the hall while no one was looking. Then people started showing up. I was really hoping everyone would forget to come but apparently pretty much the whole ward decided to show up. Wonderful. I sat there just trying to keep myself calm as my bishop gave a talk and my mom sang a song. Then it was time for the baptism. I stepped into the font. Everyone has horror stories about the water being to hot or cold but this water was perfect. As soon as it was done, a rush of relief swept over me. My mom helped me dry my hair and get dressed in my new white dress. I felt like a princess. I sat through the rest of the program, way more at ease now. The next talk was given after which I was confirmed by my dad. It was done and I felt great.

Into the Archives 52-Snow Creek

Another fun adventure with EJ: Snow Creek. A ski resort...in Missouri. Yes, downhill skiing, hill being the key word. No, we don't have mountains. You know, it's the best we have. But I had a blast. We spent the entire day there, starting with a short lesson on the very basics. The instructor thought we were sisters but we let that slide.

I spent several hours getting used to the bunny hill, then I braved the next biggest hill. I went down several times until I lost control and was sent flying, one of my skis popping off as I tumbled. I went back to the smaller hill and continued until I was exhausted. I still remember the gasps around me as I lost control again, this time both of my skis snapping off of my boots while I did whatever I could to stay out of the way of oncoming skiers. Although I wasn't hurt, I was a little shaken up and decided to call it a day.

And that was my first and only experience skiing. Yep, being a Midwestern has it's downfalls. Or lack of the down, really.

MoPro 2015

I originally wasn't planning on it, but I decided to go to Mormon Prom this year. My "girly mentor", Meagan, helped me get ready. She went dress shopping with me and did my hair and makeup. I found my dress for $25 at a resale boutique and my mom put some sleeves on it. My mom also made a boutineer (3, actually) for my date, Henry.

 When we were ready, Henry's mom and sister came to take our pictures.

We went to a Venezuelan restaurant, El Porton, for dinner and then went to the dance. It was held in Old Shawnee Town Hall which was a refreshing change form the usual church gym. We didn't stay too late because we had our last track meet the next day but it was an enjoyable evening nonetheless. Sometimes dressing up can be fun. Sometimes.

Into the Archives 51-Mothers Day

In honor of mothers day, here's to all the amazing and yet under appreciated mothers out there. This video is from 1999 (as it so conveniently says on the screen).

Into the Archives 50-KC Temple

50 ITAs! In honor of the big round number, I want to make a special post.

I remember that day on October 4th, 2008, when I heard cheering from my living room. General Conference had obviously started but no one had told me. When I heard cheering I knew that could mean only one thing.  I ran out to the living room and sure enough, we were getting a temple in KC.

On May 8th, 2010, ground was broken for the Kansas City Missouri Temple. May 5th, 2012, I participated in the cultural celebration the day before the temple was dedicated. I made plenty of posts about the temple open house and celebration (see them all here and here) but I want to highlight some of my favorite pictures.

Into the Archives 49-Nice Picture Struggles

The struggle of taking family pictures is real. Back in the day, we took pictures on the video camera and it would video the whole process. Here's a minute of trying to get a cute picture with the three Webster stooges. 

Into The Archives 48-The Farm

I've had this one friend who has been near and dear to me since we were about 6. As young kids, we spent a lot of time together (I can guarantee there will be plenty more posts about her). Some of my treasured memories are the handful of times when I went with her and her family to visit their grandparents farm.

They were always busy and fun days with tractor rides, feeding the cows, driving the riding lawn mowers and harvesting veggies like big sweet potatoes from the garden.

We would almost always stay the night so we had plenty of time for fun. When we got tired of being outside, we would play in the basement where there were lots of toys. Once we made a carnival with games and even a ride (aka, a mattress down the stairs).

Unfortunately, I don't remember quite as many details as I'd like. Just wispy memories. Take note children, write in your journal.

A First for Everything {iwgbtp}

I've never had a spontaneous bloody nose...until Philmont. Sorry in advance for this TMI post.

My crew had gone to sleep and I was sitting in my tent, dutifully reading my ranger handbook. Out of nowhere, there was a plop. A large splatter of blood had landed on my book and the crew checklist card that I would have to turn in at the ranger office when I got back to base. "That'll be awkward to explain", I thought to myself.

My hand shot to my nose where blood was beginning to pour out. My palm was filling with blood at an alarming speed. Thankfully I had some TP with me in case I needed to blow my nose in the night (which was a regular occurrence while in NM). After stuffing a bunch of TP around my nose and wiping up the majority of the mess, I continued to ponder on what I should do now. Considering that blood is a bear attractor, I should probably figure this out sooner than later. I kept adding backup as my nose continued to flow. The rules say you're supposed to take a bearbag down and put any bloody material in it. I really did not want to do that by myself at this time of night. Plan B.
When the flow finally stopped (and it took what felt like ages), I put my shoes and headlamp on, and quietly slid outside. I went over to the fire pit where the water bottles are kept at night to grab one of mine. Then I ventured away from camp. When I had gone as far as I felt safe, I grabbed a stick, knelt down and dug a small hole in which I buried my used TP. Then I washed my hands and face as best I could.
I put my bottle away and went back to my tent. I didn't know what to do about the damaged book and card. Guess technically they should go up in the bear bag too... Ha.
Pretty sure I just broke a bunch of bear procedure rules. Whoops, so much for being dutiful. #BadRanger

Into the Archives 47-Track Meet 2009

I haven't done an ITA since 2012 but I think I'm ready to start the "second season", if you will. So here it goes...

Today I'd like to show you a video of one of my very first track meets. In 2009, I was invited to join a team at a nearby Catholic school team and said why not. I pretty much had no idea what I was doing back then. But that foundational year was the start of something that has become very important to me. This year marks my last year of track in grade school for me so what better way to commemorate these years than to see where it all began.

Rushing {iwgbtp}

I carry this nalgene with me a lot of places and I'm sure some people wonder why the handle thing is broken. Just kidding, I doubt anyone cares. But I'll tell you the story anyway.

I was done with my very first crew and now it was time for me to find out how hard it was to catch a bus back to base. My plan was to hike from Crags to Zastrow turn around. A pretty straightforward hike, really. The catch was that the two buses scheduled to come that day were both pretty early in the day. I had passed through Zastrow and Carson Meadows a day earlier and both camps had said they'd let me know of the official bus schedule as I passed back through. Carson Meadows had even invited me to lunch.
I packed up and hiked back up to the main trail from Crags camp with my crew that morning. I said good bye as they went one way and I went back the way we had come the day before. I set off at a clip towards Carson Meadows to hopefully go relax for a couple hours. I got there in just under an hour and dropped my pack under a tree near the cabin. I went up to the porch, poked my head in the cabin and asked if anyone knew the bus times. One of the people in the kitchen pointed to a white board on the wall with times scribbled on it. I had already missed the first bus and the second one was scheduled to arrive in about an hour. I definitely didn't have time to stay for lunch. I thanked them for their help and ran back to my pack.
I arrived at Abreu 20 minutes later and scrambled up to the cabin to ask which way would be the quickest way to Zastrow. They told me which path to take and I continued to hurry in that direction. Now, if you aren't used to Abreu's camping area, its quite easy to get lost. It took me awhile to find my way though and get to the path. Once I had, I began running.
Unfortunately, I wasn't completely accustomed to the altitude or the extra weight of my pack yet so I couldn't run for long before I had to walk. I went back and forth between walking and running until I got to Zastrow. When I was just a few minutes out, I came upon a gate. I struggled to open it but to no avail. I didn't have time to get it open let alone figure out how to close it (which was always harder). I was going to have to jump the fence. I took my pack off and tossed it over. And that's when it happened. My nalgene, which was hanging off the side of my pack by a carabiner, got caught on the fence. My pack hung there for a split second before the handle of the bottle snapped. I was pretty frustrated by now but I didn't have time to do much but continue to run.
I made it to Zastrow with about 5 minutes until the bus was scheduled to arrive. I asked the staff member sitting on the porch if it was worth trying to get to the turn around. He delivered the bad news that the bus had gotten there almost an hour early. I had missed it by a long shot.
I plopped down on a bench and stared at my map. There was only one thing I could do that might get me back to base by lunch. Hike to Rayado. Another several miles but this time on a hard dirt road with no shade. Thankfully there were buses in and out of Rayado on a regular basis so it was pretty safe. I sat there for several minutes, dismayed. I really didn't want to do this but I didn't have much of a choice unless I wanted to hike to Lovers Leap turnaroud which was even farther and over a mountain range. Yeah, I didn't want to do that either.
Finally, I got up, lugged my pack back on and trudged off. I was in absolutely no hurry now. Hurrying didn't seem to assure a bus ride anyway. I shuffled along, inwardly moaning and complaining the entire way. The road never seemed to end with just horses and cows for company. Yep, this was a desert ranch alright. I would look up at the power lines running above and mutter, "freaking ranger ziplines", referring to the joke that rangers tell campers; power lines are actually ziplines for rangers so they can get back to base camp faster. The joke was on me now and I definitely wasn't amused.
After almost two hours I made it to Rayado. I had spent so much time moping and dragging my feet that it had taken nearly twice as long as it should have. As I approached the last fence, I could see a bus parked on the other side of the camp unloading a couple crews. I was back to frantically trying to open the gate. I ripped that thing open but I still had to close it. Seriously, why do they make them so hard to close? Nearby, a ranger and his crew were eating lunch at a picnic table. I went over to ask if he'd close the gate for me and then ran off as the bus driver was getting out of the bus to close the back hatch. I composed myself and asked the driver if I could catch a ride to which she kindly replied "of course!"
I climbed onto the bus and slumped down into a seat. That was too much excitement for one day. And on top of that, one of my nalgenes was broken. Oh well, I just wanted a shower and lunch...

Moral of the story: just slow down and enjoy the hike. If you miss the bus, it's really not a big deal. There are plenty of backup options.

P.S. That was the worst bus story of the summer. I had a much easier time getting back to base after that.

First Impressions {iwgbtp}

Almost daily, I continue to remember little moments from my summer at Philmont. The fun, the hard, the disappointing and the hilarious moments. I want to share some of them. In no particular order. Just as they come to me.

The first story is about a cat. Little Grim, the quickly growing kitten of Harlan. I met him when I passed through Harlan with my 3rd crew in early June. The staff warned everyone of his unpredictable and usually aggressive behavior. I really didn't understand what they were talking about as the cute little puffball fell asleep in my arms. Maybe I was just a cat whisperer.

Fast forward two months. 

I was with my last scheduled crew of the season. The night before, I had talked so my sister crew ranger, Parker, and we had agreed to hike back to the bus turn around together. We said goodbye to our crews and left Lost Gap camp. We tumbled and slid back down the incredibly steep road that we had hiked up the evening before. As we neared the bottom, we came upon a crew who was huffing their way up. They stopped and called to us, asking if we'd return a certain cat who had been following them since they had left Harlan that morning. There, sitting behind one of the adviser's legs, was Grim who was now grooming himself. I looked at Parker, not sure of what to do. We had been planning on hiking straight to Cito turnaround and going to Harlan would be a slight detour, making it more difficult to catch the first, and possibly only, morning bus.
The reliability of the bus system was about as good as telling a three year old to clean their room and expecting them to actually pick up more than 5 things before you have to tell them again. So, the earlier you got there, the better. Being stranded for hours wasn't unusual at all so getting there as soon as possible was in our best interest.
But, we couldn't just leave the cat with this crew, who didn't seem too keen on turning around. We agreed to take him back to his rightful home. He protested as I picked him up. We finished descending and turned towards Harlan. Grims struggling became more and more violent as we went and I nearly lost my grip on him a few times, knowing full well that if he made it out of my arms, we'd have a heck of a time getting him back. I assured the cat that we'd be home soon and that I'd put him down there. Several times he threatened to bite and scratch me so I'd hold him by the scruff and let him hang until he calmed down. This battle went on all the way to Harlan as I began to regret ever agreeing to this task. The cat obviously didn't want to go back right now.
We were on the outskirts of the camp when he seemed to calm down. I held him closer and, unwisely, near my face. Big mistake. He lashed out and I felt his teeth hit my chin. There was hardly any blood but thank heavens we were there because I was done with this cat! He definitely wasn't the sweet kitty I had met weeks earlier. We arrived at the cabin and I set him down on the porch. A staff member came out and we explained what had happened. He just shrugged and said that it happened all the time. I was a little hurt that I didn't even get a "thank you" but it was early so he had probably just woken up and wasn't fully awake. I, on the other hand, was definitely awake. And we still had a bus to catch...

P.S. We missed the bus. We saw it's dust trail as we neared the bottom of the mountain. Thankfully, an unscheduled bus arrived as we made it to the turn around. All in a days work.

A Bad Race Does Not Define You

A Bad Race Does Not Define You

That's what I had to tell myself all season. I came back from Philmont thinking I was in decent shape. Physically, yes, I was. Mentally, something had broken. I'll break the news now: I never came within a minute of my PR. Each race I started with a new hope only to be crushed by disappointment as I crossed the finish line. But I did start making progress half way through the season. It was probably when my coach confirmed my suspicion. My body wasn't the problem. It was my mind that had given up. Before this one particular race, he came up to me, tapped my head and said, "Its all up here. Quit telling yourself that you're not fast and just go for it." Although I never fully recovered from my "mental breakdown", I had better races from then on.

I was asked to be the team captain this season which mostly involved me making sure all the girls knew the course and were warmed up before races which I wasn't great at because I always seemed to forget the stretches.

Oh, but we all had fun nonetheless.

At one of the first meets, the boys placed 1st and the girls placed 2nd. Cool plaques are cool, right?

I suppose you don't need a meet-to-meet report. Running is just running to people who aren't into that kind of thing. So here are pictures that I actually look good in for the most part.

One meet was cold and rainy. I was freezing up until I went up to the finish line. At that point, I guess I was past the point of freezing and went numb. The beginning of the race was straight into the wind and rain so I could hardly see but as I settled into my pace, I zoned everything out. I just had to finish this one. Cold water drenched me and mud seeped into my shoes. It was the worst time I had got since my first cross country season but you don't feel like a hardcore runner until you've raced in pouring rain.

Medals aren't everything but it's still something to work towards. There were many races where my goal was simply to finish in a metaling position and that's the only thing that kept me going.

The last meet was spent in Springfield as usual and this year it was over Halloween. I didn't mind tho because we all spent the evening in a hotel lobby as a team which is better than trick-or-treating in my opinion. That night I got pretty sick and didn't want to run the next day. I don't know what it is about feeling crappy but I had a pretty good race. It wiped me out tho and I was lethargic the rest of the day.

I did the CCCNYC nationals again this year. This time it was in Nashville. The trip felt a lot longer and more tiring than last year. I didn't know how well I'd fare in the race. Well, I didn't PR this year but I still had a strong race despite the course being long (this was confirmed by multiple GPS watches).
*grumbles about people being sloppy when measuring the course*
The interesting thing about it was that the course was around a horse track and the surrounding land. Pretty flat with some sharp hills here and there.

The race finished with a steep down hill and then a gradual uphill. I tore down that hill while passing several people. Then on the uphill I gave it all I got and passed a couple more. I stumbled over the finish line and immediately felt like I was going to puke. I continued to gag for a few more minutes as I caught my breath. This was new. I'd never run hard enough to do that. Nothing came up but I was pretty proud of myself for pushing myself that hard. Still, no PRing time.

And finally, even tho it's not officially part of the season, the Thanksgiving 5k has become a fun way to end the year. Each year we've had cross country friends come join us in running this fun race. I was happy to have my teammate, Emily, run with me the whole way even tho she beat me by a couple seconds at the end. Last year I placed third in my age group but the competition was upped this year so I placed tenth despite cutting a couple seconds off my 2013 time.

That's all folks. This concludes my high school cross country career. It was short and had a lot of ups and downs. But it was a great experience with great people. Road races will probably be something I'll be doing until the day that I can't walk. There still is one more season of high school track so I'm hoping for the best there. And maybe, just maybe, I'll run in college.