This weekend I had the pleasure of travelling to Oxford, Ohio to do a triathlon with my two sisters. The plan was, I would pick up little sister and meet older sister at a random gas station just outside of Cincinnati and follow her the rest of the way.
Upon picking up little sister, I get out to help her put her bike on my trunk rack. There was no real helping involved because while
I put her bike on the rack, she was carrying bag after bag out to the car. Four grocery bags, two luggage bags, a purse, a stack of files, phone and water bottles. (Mind you we are only going to be gone one night…not even twenty four hours.)
I realize as I’m putting her bike on the rack that the two bikes won’t cohesively ‘fit’. After several minutes of arranging, rearranging, taking one bike off to turn and put the other one on only to take it off again and turn it again all while listening to little sister say repeatedly that we could take her car, I finally figure out in MacGyver fashion that by taking off one of her pedals, the bikes will sit side by side. (This is important to remember…I will come back to it.)
Wouldn’t you know that little sister’s husband, (*we’ll affectionately refer to him as Nancy, not to be confused with Rebecca who is older sister’s husband) Nancy, keeps his tools behind several cardboard boxes and a smoker. Because why put your tools where you can get to them when you can obstruct an obstacle course for little sister to navigate in all her patience.
Crisis averted, we find the tool, take off the pedal, get the bikes on and are on our way. One thing you should know about little sister. She brings the life to the party. She also brings some drama…I know, no one who travels with this much luggage could possibly be dramatic. So when she tells a story it goes like this: “There was this squirrel, and the squirrel was walking all funny like it was drunk, it found four or five nuts, none of them looked fit to eat, and then climbed up this giant tree even though it kept tripping and stuff and nearly fell off, it even threw a few of the nuts in his frustration to get up the tree, and then tore into those nuts like it was hopped up on crack.” When in reality a squirrel found a nut, climbed a tree and ate it. It is in this manner that she proceeds to make work phone calls and recount the bike rack episode.
We have a lovely drive to meet older sister and once joined with her travel into the heart of Miami of Ohio’s campus to our hotel. Older sister is
majorly a tiny bit obsessive when it comes to getting her race packets. Which means we will be at packet pick-up when it opens. Older sister also likes to drive the bike course to get familiar with it. Now, here’s what you should know about older sister. She got the best genes in the family, and is really quite good at everything she tries. Want to know the one thing she didn’t get?
A sense of direction.
I mean couldn’t find her way out of a paper bag if there was one road, going one way with directional arrows. Not. Kidding.
So naturally, she hands me the map of the bike course calling me a gifted navigator (I’m paraphrasing) and asks me to direct her.
Want to know what I didn’t bring to the race, because clearly there wasn’t room for it in the car, my x-ray vision. I’m in the backseat and can’t see shit. Yet I’m the one these two rely on to direct them through God’s country. Two missed turns and one near miss later we are finally on our way to dinner.
After a delicious dinner, with excellent company and lots of laughs, we retire to bed for what we think is early to rest for an early morning and long day ahead. I learned that sharing a room for the night with my older sister and little sister is like being with two fourteen year old boys in a locker room. I also learned that little sister sleeps with a night light, older sister has umpteen different notifications on her phone and trying to sleep in a hotel on the center of a college campus is impossible.
**I will share the actual day of the race in another post…to be continued. **
Mother Nature thought she would add her own challenges by pouring cold rain on us race day. This means we were wet and cold (stress COLD) upon leaving. My dad was thoughtful enough to call all three of us to wish us congratulations and praise. This is our third year doing this race, third year leaving the parking garage to head home, third year I’m following older sister to the highway. Which way does older sister turn to leave?
Left.
What’s left you ask?
The race we just left. Meaning: the road is blocked. Meaning: older sister will have to do a U-turn to go the right way.
What do I do?
Follow her like a chump.
It’s natural to assume and even expected that when you’re doing eighty on the highway, the items strapped to your car are going to shift. Every five minutes little sister is craning her neck to look out the back window to ‘check’ the bikes…her bike…to ensure they aren’t going to come off. Just like a contagious yawn, she gets nervous which makes me nervous. I realize the only way to calm her nerves is to pull over so she can check them.
Here is what she says to me when I pull into yet another random gas station, “while you check that I’m going in to get a coffee.” Did I mention it was wet, windy and cold? Did I mention that I have on wet socks, wet underwear and have a wet head? Did I not just listen to a twenty minute diatribe of little sister’s T.H.O., that she shared not only with me, but older sister, Nancy, and even our Mom, on the phone, who then promptly hung up and called her bridge club to tell them?
It is then that I’m reminded of that insurance commercial where one person does something nice to someone else who then pays it forward and so on. So I think, I go out to help little sister, and Ted the Farmer sees me, who then goes home and helps his neighbor fix his tractor, that neighbor helps his OTHER neighbor plow his field, and THAT neighbor goes on to feed a family of six with his extra bounty.
Clearly I’d be a heroine and regarded as such for years to come. But if I don’t go out, that will never happen and I don’t want that on my head. So I face the harsh elements to ensure the bikes…her bike…are strapped on properly while she goes in to a toasty warm gas station for a mocha jo.
Back on the road, we make it safely home, bikes and all. Exchange a tight hug and well wishes goodbye and I enjoy a relaxing afternoon hugging and kissing the face off my sweet little boy. A great weekend all in all.
Stay tuned for part two of this saga…Actual Race Day.
