Mystery solved

The first time that I saw her pass, I looked up and down the block to see if there was a marathon in progress that I was not aware of. I actually did. Up and down the block. Was the Kenyan team about to round the corner? Nope. There was no one else, so back to my daily battle with the dandelions I went.

An hour later, there she is again! Running shorts, running tank, hat, 4 minute mile pace. Was there a number pinned to her back? I couldn't tell, she was too fast. She was there and then she was gone- leaving only dust lingering in her trail.

It's evening, I'm relaxing on my porch swing enjoying a gin and tonic. What's that? I can make out only a movement in the shadows, I watch. It is short in stance, thin and fast. It's her! This time, she's across the street on the running track. So fast. Around and around. I sit there and watch. I watch her for at least an hour. Nothing changes in that hour except for her direction on the track. Her knees must hurt.

This goes on and on, for about 2 months. Always alone, no running mate, and at a pace that looks to me to be a 4 minute mile. She's short and extremely fit, with a keen resemblance to a gazelle- a woman gazelle. Always looking forward, in the zone- as though Catherine Ndereba might be on her heals.

I'm at the dog park with Dyggs. A woman is telling me about a neighbor who ran the Chicago Marathon this past October. It was her first marathon ever and she was going to win- she actually thought that she had won. It's a quarter mile before the finish and she's still running her 4 minute mile, she gives a high five to a spectator, never breaking her intense gaze forward.

then suddenly

Those of you who know me know that I'm, well, curious. O.k., nosy. I have to know, I must know you're story. Everyone's got story. No one is an enigma. That would be a waste of a life.

This woman almost killed me with her 4 mile pace- no story-enigma like life. She was too fast to run with, even too fast to greet- that is, if she was even capable of noticing you through her intense gaze.

I told my sister this story, because she also ran the Chicago Marathon. She, being a curious one too, found the youtube clip above and sent it to me.

I opened it and watched. I almost fell off my chair. "Holy $#%*! It's her! The Enigma!" I screamed! Chris came running. "#@*$! It is her!" He screams back.

To this day, we sit on our porch swing enjoying our coffees and tonics, and we watch her pass in the morning, and in the evening. A gazelle like 4 minute pace. Eyes glued onto the molecules hanging on the horizon. But I can now understand. I have her story, all the story that I need. She is no longer an enigma.

She is an 'almost champion'. That's gotta kill. It's gotta leave a mark- a deep, infected mark. I'm sure that her life has been changed for forever and I am positive that she will run until she can no longer run another step.

Happiness is...

Meet the newest member of the Galli family.

She's greasy and heavy and made of all sorts of metal. I never thought that I'd ever be so happy! And the labor pains were nothing! As easy as writing out a check!

We haven't given her a name yet, as we don't feel that we know her completely - she's deep, all of those sprockets and clamps.

We've just picked her up in Utah and have been out in the flats breaking her in, she's a joy.

What is she you ask? She is a Winch. Not a winch like me, she is much stronger, and definitely much more quite. She's a tow winch, designed to tow paragliders into the sky, with the potential of reaching 3500 feet in elevation.

We purchased this 'rig' from Cloud Street Design. http://www.cloudstreetwinch.com/ and if you've been reading the life of galli thoroughly then you'll know what a 'cloud street ' is and this should make you very exited, your foot should be thumping.

Here's how it works, and no Jen, it is not as dangerous as you might think-there are no training wheels, but life is a dangerous ordeal- this addition just makes it more fun.

First, a special thanks to Mr. Galli, for the amazing photo's. I'm thinking that you should join Team Galli and be the team photographer. Not much money to be made here, but I promise that you'll get a great tan.


This is part of the preparation stage. I'm clearing the lines of the paraglider.








As the truck drives forward, the winch lets out line, then increases the tension slowly as the pilot pulls up the wing and steps forward. Just like that, the pilot is lifted from the ground and is on his/her way to cloud street neverland, at least, those are our hopes.


Once the pilot feels that he/she is high enough, they release the line, which falls to the ground under a drogue, and is reeled back in by my beauty, the winch. The pilot is then free to fly and to hopefully break, make and re-break records.

We can now fly anywhere in the world, given we can drive our truck and winch there. We no longer have the need for mountain side foot launches- this is huge! No more trespassing for us! Think of all the money we'll save by not having to be bailed out of jail...I'm joking Deb.

So we are now free to roam. The money press fits in the bed of the truck and we should be just fine. Happily ever off.

A happy marriage

Me: "You're fired."

Chris: "You can't fire me."

Me: "Why not?"

Chris: "Because I already fired you."

Me: "Good point."

For J.R.G

Close your eyes. Breath.
There. There it is. Emotion.

Time suck

O.k., guy's, look to the right upper corner of this page. Do you see me? It's just like I'm right there next to you, laughing at one of my jokes that no one else gets. (just smile and nod)

I've spent countless hours uploading and organizing photos on Flicker, or is it down loading? Either way, countless hours of wasted time was spent on making my life completely visible for you guys- and there's more to come. Except for the naked pictures, those I did not upload/download. And I've got some great ones, boy howdy! The one I'm thinking of was used for Chris's 30th birthday party invite. I'll just say that he won't be vacuuming in his birthday suit anymore when I'm around. Too bad.

So this is how you see them. Click on my face. Easy-cheesy. It will send you to my flicker page with all of my 'Sets' visible. Click on a set that interests you and there you go- My life! Yup, You'll see that I hardly went to school and used most of my student loans for traveling, but think of the life experience that I've gained. That ought to land me a high paying job for my next career. My resume will read something like this:

"Personal interests and skills: Taco Stand guru, able to adapt to a variety of languages with the aid of charades and no bathing required."

On a more serious note, I read the story below on Dooce's blog. It's my favorite blog, other than mine of course. The story is pretty intense and might make you cry. But please read it, and if you have the heart, become a foster parent or adopt a child.

Disclaimer: What you're going to read next is a little touchy feel-y. Please bare with me.

Some one told me recently that they believe the Bible was written from a Socialist perspective. I've been struggling with the meaning of this for a while now. All religion aside, I think that their statement presents a solid lesson to be learned. This is what I've taken from it:

Open up your heart and find your talent. Use it. You owe it to those around you- your community. It's the least that you can do.

Thanks for reading that. I won't get mushy again, promise, at least not for a while.

Here's the story, get a cup of coffee and a box of tissue.

"The authorities had discovered the rarest and most pitiable of creatures: a feral child."

This guy makes me feel a little normal

For me, sometimes life seems a lot like this. During times like those, I wish that I had friends like these.

back to reality

After a week of bliss, the vacation has ended. I knew it would happen eventually, but it still stings a little, feels kinda like shampoo in the eye.

All mourning aside, I've deemed the week a complete success! I'm basing my declaration on very narrow parameters. Really, there are only three of them. They are as follows in the order of most to least importance:

1. Did the baggage claim take our gear as offerings to the airline Gods?
   
2. Was there any vomiting at all, for any reason imaginable? and lastly,
   
3. Was there anytime spent in a hospital waiting room?
   

The answers are: No, no and 20 minutes for a quick tetanus shot. The best thing about the week is all the fun that we had, I'm assuming that Chris would agree that he had fun, I think that I even have a photo of him laughing to prove it.

Those of you who've read the 'about me' section of this blog (it's conveniently placed at the top right of the page where studies show that your eyes are instinctively drawn to), know that my husband is quite the computer nerd. He's been working on a soaring forecast model, XCskies.com, for the past three years. He's spent many-a late nights in front of his computer, causing me to damn the entire project and demand that he come to bed on more than one occasion, possibly closer to the double digit range of damning. I run a tight ship. O.k., my point is that both The Rat Race, and the XC Open/ Canadian Nationals used XCskies.com to predict the weather for competition task setting and guess what? It was dead on! every day!

Every morning this past week that I was sent out on the 'Team Dirty Mouth' coffee run, the cafe was illuminated with laptops, sleep glazed pilots hovering over them, pouring over the pages of xcskies. Chris has been asked to forecast for the Canadian Nationals of 2009 in addition to the U.S. Nationals coming up this September. I know I'm bragging- But Wait! I'm building up to my final brag.

Here it is:

This morning, still clad in our pj's, we rushed to the p.o. box to get the latest issue of the USHPA, Hang Gliding and Paragliding Magazine. And right there in front of the Fort Collins Post Office, with a bench as my stage, I read, out loud, to every passer by the entirety of a 4 page article titled "XCSKIES.com"!!!

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The following few paragraphs are for those of you that have requested more specifics about our flying tasks. The rest of you should skim the words and enjoy the pictures.

The last day of the competition we were presented with incredible weather, and I'm not using that description lightly. This is what "incredible weather" looks like:

If you're wondering how clouds can possibly be good for flying, remember that thermals create cumulus clouds making up cloud base which was perfectly positioned for us at 10,500 feet. It's cloud base that pilots want to be at and fly directly under. These are also commonly termed 'cloud streets'. A good pilot will follow the 'street' all the way to goal. Or at least that's their plan.

Task was 115 kilometers, a giant triangle from Chelan Butte, across the Columbia River Gorge out over the flats to Farmer (approximately 16 miles), on to Leahy (29 Miles) and back to finish/goal, which was at the soccer field right below the butte (58 miles). Task committee likes to keep goal on the final day close to headquarters so that the partying can begin promptly.

A ton of people made it to goal. But, dare I type the following? Chris did not make it to goal (sorry baby for announcing it to the internet). He broke his most important rule: fly slow and deliberate.

Chris was on his way back from Leahy, heading towards goal when he spotted this yahoo:

Mr. Pete Schaefer, fellow member of the 'Dirty Mouth club' and Overall Winner of the Serial Class. Pete came up behind Chris, climbing in the same thermal and.. all I can sum it up to is greed. Chris got greedy. He tried to beat Pete by leaving the thermal and going on glide too early and too low. Chris landed short of goal. Pete, on the other hand, climbed higher, went on glide and made it to goal. He was greeted with a beer and took #1 place in the Serial Class. Congrats Pete! It's time for you to get a comp glider and quit your day job!

This is Melanie, scoping out the cycles right before piloting a flawless launch. She landed just short of goal because of a bladder emergency. I won't get too detailed, but there are methods that both men and women use as, shall we say, bathroom breaks at 9000 feet. The design of these 'methods' differ in order to cater to anatomical differences (this is where you read between the lines, or take a peak down your pants, then a friends of the opposite sex. Now, note the major difference). Melanie claims not to be a 'comp' pilot, and has not, as of yet, taken part in the 'method'. But after landing so that she could squat in a farmers field short of goal, I'm willing to bet that she'll think twice about adult bladder control.

Beautiful

More great photos to check out