Drivers...start your engines

Rolling out of bed at 5:30 a.m. to darkness outside, the sun will rise very soon yet the clouds cover the horizon. This Saturday morning for so many can be a time to sleep in, yet our eyes have been open for 45 minutes already, covering the plans of what and where, when and how. Coffee and laundry, sleepover pick ups and wrestling meet, hockey practice and brass practice. The day is full and has the potential on being a fully achieved, much accomplished day when everything runs like a well-oiled machine or a torrent of missed responsibilities and obligations if one timed situation overlaps its boundary causing a domino effect of lateness and missedness.

Everyone has those days.

So much to do, but under it all, I know all I want to truly do is beat Dave's best time. I'll have several opportunities today.

So we synchronize our watches. The day holds both in the balance, so which will it be? Which door will hold the 24 hour compilation? I choose door #1, in my optimism, the day which will be well planned, balanced, possible. As I step in the closet to get a pair of socks for me and my sweetie I hear the click of the door, he beat me...he beat me! Again! The first of the hot water, the first shower of the day belongs to the quickest.

Our life has been a mild mannered yet continually maintained race.

There actually is very little Dave and I don't have some form of race about. He will be the first one ready, but I will leave the house first. We needed to head in two different directions, me south and east to Neosa Brass rehearsal and Dave north and west (can there really be much more north and west before the state line?) meeting at T.s hockey game in the early evening. As I finish making my morning coffee, we both arrange the details - this child here by this time, that child there by that time, this family, that arrangement, this address, that phone number. We both can be reached, only a phone call away, and it will work.

But the real business is lurking, unspoken just yet, hovering above, politely and considerately allowing all other topics to be finalized, complete.

He stepped outside to clear the ice off my van and warm the engine (he's such a gentleman) fill the tank and leave me some toll money. He knows I don't carry money, and that I wouldn't recognize it until I was lining up in the PAY TOLL line for the Route 8 exit. He knows me and takes those tendencies that drive him crazy and cuts them off at the pass, his advance preparation prevents me from needing to pay for my $2.75 toll in dimes. (And you know how much a toll worker appreciates getting that many dimes.)

All things are running smoothly...
...the engines are revving. The crowds are cheering as the signal flag is poised to wave.

We set the rules: which way am I driving 250 to turnpike E to route 8S which will become 77S instead of 250 to 2E to 57E to 77S. Check the on-line construction pattern (77S should simply install permanent orange cones, they have never, ever been construction free in the entire existence of that highway menagerie.) That makes a huge difference (in miles and tolls and time) check and make sure the time, 7:10, and the prediction ...arrive at Canton Citadel by 9:25 a.m.

The challenge is raised and today I will meet it. I will not drive reckless or bump drivers out of the fast lane, I really do rely upon cruise control. I will not be a speed demon, breaking 95 mph just for a challenge. The challenge is achieving the quickest time within the rules of the road. If you break the rules, your win is hollow, not worth celebrating.

Pulling into the corps driveway I felt as if the checkered flag was waving just for me...9:19 a.m.! Doing a backflip off the back of my minivan to chug-a-lug a quart of milk - that wasn't gonna happen but I sure did make a phone call to my Sweet baboo who was waiting for the results. A new record has been set (construction has been froze out from the frigid blast - no time delay - exceptional!) and although my name may only be engraved upon that trophy once, its mine right now.

Our rehearsal included a race through all the repertoire for our impending trip - five more days and then to the south! It will a terrific trip, but the tempo for all our pieces was a race-breaking pace. Milestone. Salvation Song. Fill the World With Music. Hallelujah Parade. The quick run through that leaves my heart racing still from their quickness...B/M Eric Dina had extra adrenaline for rehearsal and he won every race, hands down! The checkered flag was waving just for him.

As rehearsal is complete, all members having their red and yellow shirts for travel uniform, I drop a text message to my sweetness, 3:50 p.m., final destination Fremont. His prediction, I'll miss two periods of the Fremont Ice Wolves versus the Rocky River hockey game, getting there at 5:30. I say 5:15. Same rules in play, no speed demon moves, I pull into the Fremont Rec center at 5:12, just as the ref drops the puck for the second period to begin. This game is the clincher - a win and the team enters the playoffs, a lose and the season is done with only two tournaments to skate.

Following the heart wrenching 4-0 loss, we gather our young brood in the vans for the ride home. There are several ways to get home..."Which way you going?" We each have our favorite, they include the winding interconnected rural routes of the farmland of NW Ohio, but each is a favorite, not for the pretty barns or quaint town squares which dot their existence. No a favorite is chosen for its expediency - the quickest way. Same rules in play, Margaretta as a 25 mph speed limit - must adhere to it - 40,65,35...obey the speed limits or its not a race.

At the end of the day, 14 hours after I had left in the morning, I claimed the third checkered flag - a trifecta of victory! Sweet dreams and satisfaction from a day which went according to plan, all responsibilities met, everyone safe and sound and healthy...

...and I won!