It's 3:45 a.m. and I can't sleep.
(Itch - itch, scratch - scratch.) I can't help but think about my son's endurance race set to begin at 10:00 a.m. this morning.
(An endurance race is one that is won by consistency. The riders have an hour and a half to complete as many laps as possible. It is a three-mile course through wooded areas, flat land, whoop-d-doops, and small rock climbing.)
I watched him prepare last night; he checked his gear, packed his water, and he went to the garage to double check his dirt bike. I noticed how he stood a little taller as he talked about the race.
"I'm so jazzed! I can't wait!" The smile across his face made me smile.
"'J', I'm so proud of you! You are going to do great!"
"Mom, will you rub out my shoulder and my back?" "Sure, no problem."
I had to keep my mouth shut as I thought about a few practices back when he took a crash landing coming off of his 12-foot jump! Hence, the need for the shoulder massage before every race.
(Itch - itch, scratch - scratch.) I arrived late for practice that day, Justin was already on the track. I'll never forget the look on my husband's face as I walked up to him.
"Don't freak out, but 'J' took a bad tumble."
(Note to fathers: You do not say this to a mother when her child is nowhere in sight!)
"WHERE IS HE!" "Relax, he's riding,"
"What? Where?" "Out there!" he says, pointing to the track.. You can imagine how the rest of the conversation went.
Tick -Tock... After 15 long minutes he comes riding in. My heart skips a beat as I wait for him to remove his helmet... and then he does. He has a black eye and a big cut along the side of his nose and a big smile on his face!
"Mom, you should have seen me, I was 12 feet in the air! "And then I landed wrong and tumbled down the side of the hill, it was awesome!"
I am staring at him in shock as he continues to point out the other issues: ripped pants exposing the scrapes and blood on his leg, and his ripped shirt exposing his chopped up flesh mixed with mud.
"I am going to have the coolest scars." (Again, he smiles -- as if he had just won a race.)
"What were you doing riding after you got hurt?"
"Mom, chill, I had to get back on my bike right away and ride or else I would have been afraid to do it later, and don't even think about telling me I can't ride anymore. If I want to get better I'm gonna have to take some tumbles."
By this time I'm staring at my husband with a look that says,
"If I could ride this thing, I'd run you over right now, how dare you let my son go back out on the track!"
(Itch - itch, scratch - scratch.) I sigh as I'm brought back to the evening at hand.
As I think about my son's response to his tumble, I gleam with pride in the fact that he chose to focus on his accomplishment rather than his crash landing.
It amazes me how my 17-year son has learned so much about life (he just doesn't know it yet).
After rubbing out his shoulder, he eats three bananas, and does 60 push-ups.
"Well parents, I'm off to bed, I have to be prepared for my race."
(Itch - itch, scratch - scratch.) It's now 4:10 a.m. I know I am rambling. Maybe you can see a lesson in this story, and maybe not.
All I know, is I had to do something to relax my mind as I think about the race.
(Itch - itch, scratch - scratch.) Although, there could be one other reason why I cannot sleep; no, it couldn't be this rash on my arms.
(Itch - itch, scratch - scratch.) 
