After days of hiking and swimming in ice cold lakes, and several nights of car camping, my sister, MaryKelli sponsored our $4.75 showers this morning. #realfriendsdon’tletfriendslivedirty I am clean *Cue the doxology.* I’m catching up on work emails while the laundry runs, so it seems like the perfect time for a rambly update.
My dad has a broken analog clock in his office, so it shows the correct time only twice a day. One of his nerdy engineer co-workers scribbled “It’s about time” on a post-it note and left it on the useless clock. A useless clock with a timeless message.
I filled an entire journal in the month before turning 24-years-old. I graduated from college exactly two years earlier, started a career, set it aside for graduate school, and then dropped out of school.
In the time between collecting cost estimates for my broken car air conditioner and deciding to hold off on getting it repaired immediately, I did something that I do quite well, I avoided making a decision.
As a child, I thought of life like a timeline, from a hospital room to a pinewood box in the ground. I logged a few more years of life and discovered it’s more like a series of circles. Year-long circles, daily circles, decade-size circles all looped and linked over and around each other, and encased…
What: I’m training for the Hotter ’N Hell Hundred, an endurance cycling race/ride.
Who: Dad is in on this gig, also. So, Dad and me.
When: We started training started in June. The race is the last weekend of August. (No, that’s not a responsible, well planned timeline.)
Where: North Texas.
Why: Because we didn’t finish it the first time.
My name is Elizabeth Joy Bethea but I’ve gone by Joy since I was three-days-old, after my aunt sent a note from Georgia to my parents in Oklahoma with the single sentence, “Name that child.”