Hoodlums in The Hood

​​Their flight was late giving my brother-in-law Dave, my son Stefan and I lazy moments for light conversation around the patio table.  It was a perfectly warm Sunday evening and despite the calendar reading September, it still felt like summer.  Thirty minutes later my aunt's van pulls into my parent's driveway next door.  We soon hear laughter.  My Aunt Alice and cousin Kate have just arrived from Arizona.

We are now standing in mom's kitchen placing groceries in the fridge.  After a brief discussion and entirely too much math, we calculate it has been 30 years since Kate has been to our small town. Weird as we are all only 28.  The weather is too nice and we decide we need to move our conversation outside.  I glance up and notice two teenage boys walking down the street in front of the house.

"Who are those kids?" I ask my mom.  They look out of place.

"I have no idea.  I've never seen them before."

I move to the back hall and stop as I see them loitering around the back of Stefan's car.  Although still on the sidewalk, they have obscured themselves at the edge of my parent's property.  One of the boys raises his hand and takes the stance of a pitcher, winding up to throw something at one of the cars.  I yell "HEY!!!" from inside the house as the object launches full force into the side of my aunt's van.  The two teenage boys take off running.

Leaping the 4 steps in one giant step, I am out the door in a full sprint.  As I cross the driveway, I huck the flip flops off my feet. Once at the edge of the property I see the boys on the other side of the block.  They see me coming and take off running.  Fine.  I can play this game too.

Within seconds I have crossed a main street and am in full pursuit of these boys.  I contemplate stopping.  I mean, really, what in the world am I going to do once I catch these kids?  I realize I'm gaining on them.  The one who threw - what appeared to be an apple - turns around.  He sees me still in a full sprint and gaining on him.  The look he gave was pure fear.

There was no quitting now.  That look was all I needed and I found another gear.  I'm pretty sure I passed a cheetah like it was standing still.

I discovered when one is running on 100% adrenaline, crazy and insane thoughts race through one's mind.  This shouldn't surprise me, after all, there was absolutely nothing sane about a barefoot 44 year old mother of two chasing down 2 teenage boys. Yet there I was in a full sprint through the streets of town.  A small town where everyone knows everyone else's business.  Is the phone ringing at my parent's house yet?

Dang it. I wish I had my Garmin.

I am running a marathon in a week and I'm suppose to be running short, leisurely miles.

This isn't leisurely. 

This better be short.

How fast am I going?  Fast. 

Cheri, you are going fast.

HA!  That kid is slowing.

Where the heck is my brother in law?

I WISH I HAD MY GARMIN!

We round a corner and the one who threw the object turns and finds me 15 feet behind him.  He realizes I am not going anywhere but on his tail.  He stops and a nano second later I have grabbed the collar of his shirt.  He looks ready to throw up.  I've seen that look before many times at a finish line.

Welcome to the big leagues kid.

"What in the world do you think you were doing?" I yell.  Yes, yell.  My flaring temper may have actually been physically visible.

"I didn't throw anything!!  I didn't throw anything!!"  He cries.

"Well, I never said you threw anything now did I?" My grip on his shirt tightens.  He tries to get away.  I horse collar him and tell him - in the meanest Mama Bear voice ever heard on the face of the planet - "YOU ARE COMING WITH ME."

"Why?  I didn't throw anything! I didn't throw anything!!"  He tries to pull away.

The collar of his shirt is firmly in my grasp and I pull him along.  I feel like I'm trying to lead a horse to drink.

"Where are you taking me?" He asks with fear in his voice.

"You are coming back to the house and we are going to see if you caused any damage to my aunt's van.  And if you did, you are going to pay for it."

"I didn't throw anything!!"

"I suggest you stop lying to me -, " I pause, "-What's your name?"

"Carlos."

"Well Carlos, I suggest you stop lying to me because I watched you throw something at my aunt's van.  And if you tell me one more time you didn't throw anything I'll take that as you calling me a liar.  DO I MAKE MYSELF CLEAR?"  Mama Bear voice again.

"Ok."

"Carlos.  It's time you learned a little about respect.  I am willing to bet your mama taught you better than this.  Taking something and throwing it at someone else's property is completely disrespectful and not to mention rude.  We DO NOT damage other people's property.  That van was not yours to touch.  You had no right to do what you did.  You need to show a little respect to the hard work people have put in to buy their property.  Do you understand me Carlos?".

"Yes.  Can you let go of my shirt?"

"No."

I become aware of the town folk driving by and staring at me - the crazed 44 year old woman with the tall teenage boy's shirt collar firmly in her grasp. 

Oh my, do those people go to my parent's church?  

Why are there so many cars?  

I think half the town is driving by right now.

"Please?"

"NO."

We round the final corner taking us to my parent's street.  I see my cousin Kate pacing nervously in the driveway.  She looks up and sees the two of us approaching - me stomping; the kid still trying to catch his breath.  She turns to speak to someone to her left and I read her lips saying, "Oh my gosh, she caught the kid."  We come to the property and the family greets us.  All of them.  Every.Single.One.  My Aunt Mari, my mom, my sister Amy, her two kids, my boys as well as my visiting Aunt Alice and cousin Kate.

"Hello everyone.  This is Carlos.  We are here to check the damage he did to your car Aunt Mari."

I see tomato smeared all down the sides of Aunt Mari's white van.

Within seconds Carlos has my mom on one side of him and Aunt Mari on the other.  If Carlos thought he got an earful from me on respect, he was about to learn from the masters.   I am leaned against the patio table, trying to catch my breath and I hear my two favorite women in the whole world begin to impart wisdom on young Carlos.  A lifetime of being together, they bounce their conversation back and forth against Carlos.

You should know better.

How old are you?

A sophomore? A sophomore!

You oughta know better.

Cheri, bring Carlos the hose.  He's going to wash the van.

You need to apologize to my sister.

You missed a spot here Carlos.

One doesn't throw things at other people's cars.

What were you thinking.

Carlos, here's a spot.

Do you think you learned a lesson here?

My sister Amy casually walks up behind Carlos and says, "You messed with the wrong woman.  See that woman there?" She points to me.  "She runs marathons.  You'll never out run her."

My mom and Aunt Mari, thoroughly convinced our job of educating Carlos is complete, send him on his way.

I am tired, I sit in the chair.  I just ran a quarter mile at a top sprint while barefoot.  Oy vey, my marathon is in one week.  Lord, I hope I didn't just screw that up.

We all start to giggle.  None of us can believe what just transpired. We all talk at once and our laughter grows louder.

Amy comes to the table and states, "I'm pretty sure you scared him Cheri."

I start giggling again.  "Yea, you should have seen the look on his face when he turned around the second time and saw me gaining on him."

Amy asks, "So do you think that is the point when he peed his pants?"

And that my friends, I am most certain, is when Carlos could here us laughing as he ran away a second time.  This time, there was no need to chase him as I am certain he learned a lesson he will never forget.

Mission accomplished.

Moral of the story : Don't mess with a mom who owns running shoes.

Rest In Peace Mad Woman

The Mad Woman is dead; may she rest in peace and never come back to haunt me. 

I, with unabandoned excitment, went for a run this morning!  Actually, it was more of a walk/run/walk/run and it felt great.  The alarm rang and in an instant I was out of the bed and putting on my running clothes.  Within minutes, I was out the door and testing the strength in my ankle.

Thus, the Mad Woman had to die.  With each gentle step I took, I was digging her grave deeper and deeper.  With the ability of being able to run returning, I am no longer feeling like a mad woman with pent up energy wanting to pull out my hair.

Running helps me sleep better. 

Running helps me feel better. 

Running gives me energy. 
Running keeps me sane. 

This is why I have missed it so.  My sanity comes in the form of shoe laces being tied at 5 a.m.  This morning my walk/run took place in the rain, but I didn't care.  I was out there and I was running.

Now to work on that Ankle Dictator.  I am hoping to carve his name next; underneath that of the Mad Woman's.

Diary of Mad Woman : Part 3 ~ Bald With Flippers

I'm bald; as in baby-butt-smooth bald.  I should be anyway.  Actually, it's a miracle I'm not.  Running has been my stress reliever since I started it in 2004. Entering into day 16 of no running, it's remarkable and noteworthy that I have not yet pulled out all my hair.

Someone buy me a stocking cap just in case.

My husband and I will be spending the weekend in Seattle.  His work is throwing a company-wide party celebrating their Centennial year in business.  Normally one to love a good hob-knobbing, this one struck a chord of anxiety within me.  How in the world does one wear party attire and not wear heels?  The Ankle Dictator smirks at me.


The human population calls the appendages at the bottom of their legs "feet".  I, on the other hand, call mine flippers.  God blessed me with a very wide foot which is an incredible advantage when it comes to scuba diving.  I don't scuba dive.  

The high heeled shoes I do find are relatively comfortable on my flippers; however, throw in a sprained ankle and no designer creates shoes that wide.  My running shoes (which I'm fortunate enough to be able to wear to my job while being injured) will somehow not cut it with party attire.

Such are my life contemplations this week while being injured.  Normally I'd run to solve this world-coming-to-an-end problem,  but we all know that's as possible as me getting my swollen left flipper into a high heeled shoe.  Enter in the pulling out of my hair.

If you are at The Westin in downtown Seattle on Saturday night look for me.  I'll be the woman in party attire, wearing a stocking cap and running shoes. 

And I'll look hot.

An Ordinary Day

The morning is strangely quiet.  It's 5 a.m. and the sun has not yet introduced the day, reminding me summer is leaving soon and fall is close by.  I'm not ready to say goodbye to summer.

My feet fall quickly on the streets bringing a break into the silence.    The clouds hold no rain, for which I am very grateful.  The quietness of dawn gives me a blank canvas in which to paint my conversation with God onto.  He listens, I talk; peace and comfort abound.

The farmer has a new herd of calves in the grassy field close to the barn.  A few of them bellow to the others as to warn them the strange lady running on the road is dangerous.  I smile as it is always the same.  Just as it is with each new calf herd the farmer receives, one calf gets brave and runs toward me, whether to chase me or to see if I bring food I'm never sure.  Curiosity always grabs hold and soon most are running the fence line behind me.  I laugh as to the passerby I must look like a cow's Pied Piper.  Reaching the edge of the fence line, they stop and allow me to go on alone.

Mount Baker stands grand on the horizon, its foothills lush and green before her.   The sun is peaking above the hills bringing its light to the day.  I hear what sounds like softly falling rain, but feel nothing.  I look around me.  Above me the wings of several dozen sparrows flutter; the source of the noise.  The noise grows louder and I met by hundreds, if not thousands, of sparrows.  Flying in large groups and in percise unison toward a large, old oak tree standing solitary in a field. Upon landing in the tree, they all begin to talk to each other, and loudly; sounding like a room full of old Italian women talking with their hands.  This makes me laugh.

I turn towards home, my 6 miles complete.  I tiptoe into the house which holds sleeping boys.  The coffee is on and its smell fills the room.  The day has started just like so many before it, with an early morning run surrounded by nautre.  It's just an ordinary day.

To Run or Not to Run

One of the many things I often hear is how much running will ruin my body.  What is extremely ironic this is always explained to me by people who do NOT run.  My friend Dane Rauschenberg came up with this great article listing the most often heard excuses - and his response - to why we shouldn't run.  A great read that I thought you would all enjoy.

Dane's Top 10 Reasons Not To Run