I spent a lot of time and energy training for the Spartan Race. Running, running, and more boring running to build endurance. Lifting weights. Lots of burpees.
On race day I wasn’t fast, but I finished! It was great fun. It was all just for fun.
I didn’t know I would need those skills for real life. Yesterday at the playground my third born and second born were picking on each other as usual. The third born’s shoe came off, tumbled down the slide, and the second born picked it up and tossed it smack dab in the center of the locked batting cages. “Why did you do that?” I asked her. “Well, I had to throw it somewhere!” was the answer.
So we tried the lock. Nope. Apparently the combination which had previously been 1-2-3-4 had been changed.
There was no stick long enough to pick it up with. And even if we had one there would be no way to squeeze the sneaker through the chain linked fence.
There was only one way and I was prepared for it. I had to jump the ten foot high fence. The first born didn’t want to do it (he is afraid of heights) the third born wasn’t strong enough. The second born at this point was already banished to the bench for the rest of her life…I mean the rest of the play time.
So I scaled the fence, hopped down, grabbed the shoe, tossed it back over and scaled the fence again.
My first born even called me the Living Legend of Playground Moms! Yep. That’s me. Training for months and months was worth the title from my preteen’s lips!