Track Day

    Yesterday was my first taste of driving Portland International Raceway. I am still processing everything. Being behind the wheel of a decently accoutered Subaru, easy to drive, automatic transmission, responsive acceleration made it easier to focus on the track itself, and not on managing the car. The downside was the Subie's suspension giving the ride a bit of a boat-on-the-ocean feel, especially from the passenger side. The result? You guessed it: Motion Sick. The first three laps Jeff drove, giving me a comprehensive running description of each turn and straight, but my rebellious stomach made it difficult to fully absorb what I was hearing, seeing, and feeling. I take that back, I was feeling every wow, G-Force, and acceleration. Then I got behind the wheel, and felt better. It is much easier to handle the motion when you are somewhat in control of the situation. I admit, it was epic, and not nearly as nerve-wracking as I was expecting. Feeling the car dive into a tight corner, accelerating through, hearing the tires sing, hitting the back stretch and punching the accelerator is a rush. Granted, my stomach was still reminding me that it was unhappy. Driving a race track is far more difficult than one would think, especially a track like P.I.R which is not an oval of only left turns, it is a series of corners, right and left, tight and flowing, and very technical.
    I drove six laps, then Jeff took the wheel again to teach me some of the finer points. The downside of this, my mildly annoyed stomach suddenly began to protest violently. I could not focus on anything but not losing my breakfast at high speed. The third lap, as we pulled into the pits, all I could say was, "I am going to throw up." Being the sympathetic sort, Jeff didn't chastise me, just helped me find the door handle which I could not find in my fumblings, and said, "Over the rail," as I staggered out. I didn't hurl, happy to say. I did gag, and fight the retching though, then just leaned over the rail, using sheer force of will to not spew green smoothie onto the grass. Even in my misery I was thinking, "Next time, smaller breakfast, and Dramamine." I was not going to let my weakness keep me from getting back on the track and learning to drive. Jeff had a point, "Sometimes Grand Adventures involve throwing up." I have done hard workouts that brought me close to the point of dry heaves, this is no different. Well, maybe it is a little different, but I won't let it stop me.
    I have to confess, I was disappointed with myself. I thought I would take to track driving more naturally. I thought my ability to slice through corners on my motorcycle would transfer to a car. But it is very different. Add in my rebellious stomach, the motion sickness that has seemed to plague me more frequently these days than ever before, and I felt as if I had failed myself. As if Body failed me when I needed it to be solidly behind Brain. The nausea dampened down my exuberance to the point that there was not the sense of victory that I had anticipated. But you know what? I don't care. I don't care that I actually cried because of my failings. I will go back, Dramamine patch in place, stomach mostly void of food, I will remember what I learned, and I will rock the course. It is a learning curve, like anything else. I will learn, practice, let Brain and Body assimilate the lessons learned. Next time, I will rock the course, or at the very least, not have dry heaves.
     

Fire Engines

I just can't help myself. I abso-freakin-lutely LOVE  the Fire Engines. Every single one of them. They are beautiful, exciting, solid, and speak to me in a language most will never hear, much less understand. I dream of knowing them inside and out. Knowing the individual quirks and secrets of each, understanding their individual personalities, their strengths and weaknesses. I want to sit in the station and stare at them, touch them, inhale their heady fragrance. I want to prowl through all the nooks and crannies until I can visualize in my head exactly what goes where, and what they have to offer. I want to learn to drive them, be signed off on each one, from the smaller Rescue Rigs to the gigantic, off-road rig used for wildland fires known affectionately as "The Beast." This is a culmination of a life long infatuation that started at a very young age, and has not faded over time. If anything, the infatuation has spiraled out of control in a glorious crescendo. I LOVE the Engines. Every. Single. One.

Released

    "Released to Respond." Three simple words. One huge accomplishment. Last night was my interview to be released to respond to emergency calls. Yes, I am still a total newb, and I know I have so much yet to learn, but I have taken the first step. I am trying to maintain a mature, adult demeanor through all of this, but what I really want to do is jump up and down, and yell, "Imma be a Fireman! IMMA BE A FIREMAN!!!" The only thing at this point that keeps me from crowing it from the rooftops, plastering it all over every social media I can think of, and grabbing complete strangers to share my exultation, is that I don't want my officers to chastise me for lack of discretion. It is tough reining myself in. Maybe the thrill will wear off once I have been rousted from my bed in the middle of the night a few times, and had to drag myself into work sleep-deprived and loopy. Or maybe it will never wear off. I hope it never wears off. I want to cherish this feeling of accomplishment and triumph. I want to keep my childlike thrill for fire engines and turnout gear. This is truly one of the coolest things I have ever done, a Grand Adventure that will continue on as long as my body can hold out. This is the Adventure of a Lifetime.

What A Weekend

    Holymotherofgods I am tired. Tired to my marrow. So tired I had to rest and suckle a cup of coffee just to get the energy to crawl into the shower. What epic endurance race has left me in such a state? Not a race.  Not a run. Not an obstacle course event. It was a weekend at Firefighter Academy. And, ohmygods, what a weekend. Saturday were midterms, and I was nervous, knowing this weekend would be the deciding factor in being released to go on calls. My nerves did me well, I scored 99% on my written test, and felt good about the practicals. The day is now kind of a blur, we pulled so much hose, sprayed thousands of gallons of water, were given tasks to accomplish as a squad, and did them well. We pulled hose, restored hose to the engine, and pulled it again and again. At the end of the day we were all so jubilant to have survived midterms that we hung around the station house kitchen, eating, laughing, horsing around, scheming about future antics. I was so wired when I got home that even a delicious, hot, carb laden meal, could not simmer me down. What started as grooving to a little Sam Cooke quickly degenerated into Manic Dance Party For One, and I danced for nearly an hour. My soaring spirit kept me from sleep until nearly midnight.
    Today we were in Turnouts and SCBAs by 8:30am and pulling more hose. Today was all about the hose. We pulled every diameter we have available. We attacked hydrants, set master streams, and flowed thousands and thousands of gallons of water. Doing full evolutions from taking the hydrant, laying hose line, setting up the master stream, calling for water, and then letting the water flow. At one point it all dissolved into a water fight with 2-1/2" hose at about 100', until we were all drenched. I felt water pooling in my crotch and flowing freely into my boots. It was epic. Then we pulled more hose, restored hose, pulled hose, restored hose, over and over and over. Pulling hose is the fun part, we Practice How We Play, leaping from the truck, grabbing the tools of the trade, and getting shit done. Restoring the hose is hard damned work. A few minutes of fun followed by 20 to 30 minutes of restoring order. It was one of the best days I have ever had. I confess, by mid afternoon I was as tired as I have ever been. Muscle fatigued, bone weary, joint achingly tired. And yet there was more. We kept going. I forced myself to catch my second wind. I dug deep and found the energy to stay upright and going hard. We pulled hose and restored hose until 5:30.
    I have realized just how firefighting could easily consume one's life. There is so much to learn, so many opportunities for additional classes. I will be taking additional courses for water rescue, rappelling, search and rescue, Rapid Intervention Team. There will be training weekends, hopefully a Burn to Learn where we get a derelict house to burn to the ground while practicing our skills. This does not even take into account how often there will be emergency calls to respond to.
    As of this coming Wednesday I will be cleared to go on calls, receive my pager, and get the app for my phone that will text me details of calls coming from Norcon dispatch. I am just getting my toes wet at this point, soon though will come the full plunge. As I think over the weekend, and all the weekends of 2013 so far, I am boggled by the enormity of my undertaking. This is very likely to be the grandest adventure I could embark on, and it will be a lifetime adventure. This has already been 2012, The Year of Grand Adventures, and it has only just begun.