Pump Time

    Adventures, grand and minor. There have been many since I last posted. I could wax poetic about my half-Ironman, which was an epic adventure that has inspired me to take it to the next level, a full Ironman, which is an ongoing adventure in and of itself. But tonight, what has me inspired and full of visions of the future, and dreams realized, are the baby steps towards being a full fledged apparatus operator, and pump operator for Engine 485. "My" Engine. The beautiful, gloriously red, amazing machine that I have the privilege of not only doing a weekly apparatus check, but that I also get to drive. No, I am not signed off to drive it to an emergency, yet. Yes, I am signed off on the Rescue Rig now, and last night was my first chance to drive Code Three, lights and sirens, and I had to force myself to not be grinning like an idiot. My Captain, Eddie, knew though, he is a good natured old-timer, and the guy that has taken me under his wing, been my champion, and let me get in as much drive time as he possibly can. He calls me "Kid," I call him "Boss." We are a good team. But I digress, I will pull myself away from the elation of Code Three to what is really on my mind tonight: Pump Operations. Yes, what may seem banal to most, not the glory of manning an attack line on a blaze, is what I really want to learn to do. It is a strange mix of simple and common sense, and yet complicated and vital. Tonight was my second chance to get in pump time during drill. As I see it, 2 hours down, about 28 to go. This will be a long process, but it is not to be rushed. No one wants to be inside a burning building with an inexperienced pump operator in charge of their life line. I know I wouldn't. So, I will be patient, and glad that the small bunch of guys at our undermanned little out-station are taking me under their tutelage, and training me from the ground up. I know I can be impatient to reach a goal when I really want it, but this is one case where I will be as patient as need be, taking as much time as they deem I need, before I am thrown into the thick of it with the responsibility of providing water on the fire grounds. Fortunately I am surrounded by experience, and they are happy to share the knowledge. I am excited. Not in the over the top way of getting to drive Code Three, but in a quiet, respectful way. Knowing the heavy responsibility that goes with the label "Pump Operator" gives me a tingling chill deep in my marrow, makes my pulse race just a bit, and my mind buzz with the immensity of it all. Two years ago who would have thought that I would be living life with a pager at my hip (when I am in district anyway), getting to drive a fire engine in all it's fabulous glory, getting medical training to be a First Responder, and now building on the base of firefighter training to become, hopefully, a full fledged pump operator someday. Someday. I can be patient. It is worth the time. Pump time.

Fire

    It has been far too long since I have written. Not because there have been no Grand Adventures, but because there have been so many. Some large, some smaller, but no less Grand. I have hesitated to write of the most amazing adventure, though I have wanted to for weeks.  Why would I not write, spilling my excitement over the page, dripping with the sweet taste of adrenaline? Because my most epic adventure was at the cost of another's home. My first structure fire. The most exciting day of my life, but the worst day of another's life. It is a delicate subject, no doubt.
    It was Sunday, three weeks ago. I drove my pickup to Station One so I could do a long bike ride followed immediately by a run, the station being a safe place to leave my gear unattended. I cycled 34 miles, then ran 5-1/2 miles. I was cooling off inside, stretching, drinking some water, eating grapes, and talking to a brother firefighter when tones dropped. The call came in as a "smoke investigation." I didn't have my gear but was told there was loaner gear. A second tone hit, upgrading to possible grass fire. Okay, this was getting good. Out in the engine bay I tried on the loaner gear, it was huge and fit like a clown suit, Not optimal wildland gear, but better than nothing. Then one of my fellow probies showed up and let me use his bunker gear since he would be in wildland gear. Excellent! Tones dropped again! More firefighters arrived at the station but we were waiting for drivers. Finally, a Captain showed, as well as an engine driver. MY fellow probie, along with two of my favorite bros were told to hop on E405. First out of the gate, running Code Three, lights and sirens. The call was upgraded from a grass fire to a structure involved. Holy shit, this was getting good. Flying across the back roads, up into the hills, the call was pretty far out. Still a few miles away we could see the roiling smoke. Oh Holy Shit! Two of us were in bunker gear, the officer in charge turned in his seat, looked at us and said, "You are on the attack line to the structure, get packs on." My fellow probie groaned, "I hate you," since he couldn't fight a structure fire in wildland gear. The two of us assigned the attack line fist-bumped. I was excited, but not nervous or anxious. I did not get a debilitating surge of adrenaline like I had feared. We could hear the radio communications. There was one Tender on site, as well as our assistant Chief. We could hear the tension and excitement in their voices. This was no simple fire, this was going to be a hard fight.
    Nearing the call we could see glimpses of flames through the trees. We all muttered, "Holy shit," under our breath, and looked at each other with gleaming eyes. This is what we trained for. We were going in to do battle. We were the first engine on the scene. The only other vehicle on scene was the Tender, using the turret hose to keep the flames from spreading to trees. The only other crew on scene was the veteran that had brought the tender, and the assistant chief who was Incident Command, dealing with the nightmarish logistics of two fully engulfed structures, surrounded by trees, at the bottom of a long, narrow road, with other homes close enough that if the fire were to get away from us we could lose more structures.
   We jumped out, stretched a line and began to put the wet stuff on the red stuff, just as we were taught. There was no thought of entry, the home was already a total loss. At this point it was a matter of keeping it from spreading as we waited for more engines and manpower. We were so focused on our assigned task that I barely noticed when the others began arriving. We just kept putting wet stuff on the red stuff, though it felt like we were pissing on a bonfire. The heat was astonishing. The flames were high and glorious, terrible and beautiful. I have no idea how long we held our position before a relief team took over and sent us to rehab to cool down and get water. That was when I could see just how extensive an operation we had going. The driveway and property were too confined to allow more than a handful of rigs, as it were, if the fire got out of control we were at risk of possible entrapment. But we weren't worried, the crew was working the scene with amazing skill.
    We did have water problems. The closest hydrant was miles away. Ops set up a Tender operation to shuttle water to a location at the top of the road, and had lay down 1000 feet of supply line to reach our rigs. It was an amazing endeavor.
    My partner and I went back in three more times, until muscle fatigue got the better of us. But by then the fire was nearly out, and definitely in control. It was only later that we found out just how close this came to being a potentially devastating wildfire. Our wildland crews worked their asses off putting out the fires that had spread through the grass and underbrush. Spot fires had popped up 200 feet from the structure, and we were at the head of a canyon that could have funneled a blaze right up into the forest.
    We were lucky on so many levels: The wind was in our favor; the surrounding area was not as dry as it would be in a month; there were no unpleasant surprises like exploding propane tanks.
    But on several counts, I can say, it was not luck, but preparation: Our people are well trained and dedicated; we had great support from surrounding districts who brought Tenders and much needed manpower; and our I.C. kept his cool and made things happen. As they say, "Luck favors the prepared."
    Once the fire was nearly out came the long cleanup. Already tired muscles made to pick up muddy hose, stow it in a truck, ride back to the Station, then clean and restore hoses and rigs. It was 9:30 before I was home. Definitely tired, and with a soul deep sense of satisfaction. It was one of the best days of my life.
    I have met Fire face to face. She is glorious and terrible. It has given me a deeper understanding of so many things, including myself. I know it is wrong to say it aloud, but I understand the addiction, and want more.

OCR

    OCR. Obstacle Course Racing. Not my main focus, or my true racing agenda, but damn, what a f'king blast! Today I ran the Ash Kicker 5K with a good friend who is an avid OCR runner. She has done some serious races and trains specifically, and hard, to finish strong. Today, I was awake at 5:20, yes, on purpose, to drive north and play. It was cold and drizzly, grey, kind of dismal, but the weather rarely matters when you are running. This OCR did not have the ridiculously brutal and fear inspiring obstacles that some events specialize in (electric shocks? No, thank you.), but it had excellent physical challenges more along the lines of the traditional, Marine Corps obstacle course that was the original inspiration for these particular events. There were steep hills, narrow trails, a rope assisted hill climb (after shagging fire hose all winter, this one felt easy-peasy), traverse wall, belly crawl, cold water, mud, cargo nets, wall climbs, and near the end, an ice filled pool to crawl through. Lemme tell ya', that one sucked, big time. And running. I felt great, my legs felt good, my wind was excellent, the cool weather was perfect for racing. I got wet, muddy, sandy, frozen, and covered in bubbles (you heard right, bubbles). It was the perfect mini adventure; close to home, fun, new, and epic. If it weren't for my fear of damaging my knee before my Race, I could definitely see myself getting deeper into the OCR world. Maybe next year.

Stubborn

    There is a downside of living a life full of new and grand adventures. Downside? Truth. Careening through life from one adventure to the next, or working out to prepare myself for more epic adventures, or starting a new job that is an adventure unto itself, leaves very little time for the mundane tasks that keep life flowing smoothly. This last week had the feel of an epic endurance race, with the added stress of starting a new, fabulous job. Between spending my workaday life in the glorious back rooms of a vast Harley dealership, stopping on my way home to swim my usual miles, an evening or two at the fire station, and trying to prepare delicious, vegetarian meals, I have barely enough time to sleep. I think that is the way of adventuring, so much fun to be had, so many important tasks to complete, so much, so much, so much. I am stealing time from sleep just in order to hash out a few meager words to let the world know I am still alive and coherent. Or semi-coherent. Definitely alive! Yesterday, what for most would have been a day of well-deserved rest, I woke at 5:30am, yes, on purpose. Woke in the predawn of a glorious Spring day to drive an hour out into the wilds of Washington County to spend my morning running around a lake. A 10.5 mile race around Hagg Lake. The furthest I have ever run. And I did run. I ran all but maybe 200 yards. Not fast, but in a respectable Hour and 51 minutes to place third in my age group. Not too shabby for someone who even just a year ago did not consider herself to be a runner. It was very nearly the one year anniversary of my knee surgery. Maybe some would not consider a run to be an adventure, but to me it is a stepping stone to an epic adventure. I needed to reassure myself that I am not an absolute lunatic for thinking I can do a half-Ironman at the end of the summer. The run has been my concern, and I know that I still have an enormous amount of training ahead of me, but yesterday made me realize deep down in my very core that yes, I am a runner. I was only a few miles shy of a half marathon yesterday, and if that had been the distance, I know I could have run it. Yes, I am a little sore today. Hell, who am I kidding? My quads are pretty sore, but no worse than after a hard workout. In two weeks I have my first trail run with obstacles, 5 miles, again, in the wilds of Washington County. I am excited.
    Yes, I am rambling on about running because it has made me realize that there is nothing I can't do if I decide I really want to do it. I have made epic changes in my life, my body, my mind, my heart, and my soul. I have worked hard, and worked out hard, to make these changes. I have set my sights on goals, and am reaching them, one by one. I am learning the lessons of faith in myself, persistence paying off, hard work, and the value of a stubborn nature. Maybe that is what is at the core of it all, I am too stubborn to give up, to stubborn to give in. And mostly, when I am told I can't, I am too stubborn to not want to prove them wrong. The world is wide open to me, because I have decided to make it so.

Relax. And Breathe.

    Today is my last day at the job I have held for nearly 7 years. I am down to about 3 hours. In truth, it has not really registered that this will be be the last time I shut down this computer and walk out that door. No more torturous freeway commutes. I will no longer be the only voice of optimism in the office. I will no longer feel my soul being drained by the pervasive gloom that hangs about with the heavy pressure of a pending thunderstorm. I am stepping into a new job, with a whole new cadre of coworkers, into a business that reeks of optimism, potential, and dreams. I tell myself to slow down, do not let the imagination run rampant with the possibilities I am facing, but that is not my nature. Instead I am seeing glorious possibilities, with the job itself, as well as the culture surrounding this new world. Not only will my pay be better, allowing me to catch up, pay off, and relax a bit, but the non-monetary potential is vast. I am already pondering how the connections I will be making will influence my future. The potential is mind boggling. For today, I just need to remember to relax, breathe, get through the next 3 hours. I do not think the reality will sink in until I walk through the door of my new employer on Monday morning. Then, then I will feel the reality of a dream realized. A hard fought, deserved dream coming to fruition. For now, relax, and breathe.

New Job. New Adventures.

    The last 72 hours have been an absolutely phenomenal adventure! I knew that my finals and graduation from the Academy were slated for this weekend. Hell, that has been a carrot on a stick for the last few months, though I admit, I will miss the Academy. What was not expected, or on the agenda was an unexpected job interview. Finally, my months of intensely blanketing the job market paid off. Not only did my efforts finally bear fruit, but it was the most succulent fruit I had hoped, wished, and dreamed of. Not only did I interview splendidly, with a guy that I think will be an excellent boss, but at the end of our meeting he said, "Okay, let's do this." Me, "You mean I got the job?" YES! YesYesYes!!! I got the job. A job that I know I can excel at, that will use my odd, vast array of skills, let me stretch my wings, and learn new, cool shit. What is this sugared plum of a job? Selling Harley-Davidson parts and accessories at the big H-D dealership. A great job, with good pay, full benefits, excellent hours, and Harleys!!! Could it get any better? I don't think so. I really don't. I will be working directly with one of my passions, surrounded by gleaming chrome and luscious paint, the aroma of leather and carnuba wax, and in a culture that I fit into and feel comfortable with.
    I feel like all the pieces of the puzzle have finally, suddenly, snapped into place. Yes, I know there is no guarantee of  Happily Ever After, but I think I have arrived in a place and space where anything seems possible. It has been a battle and a struggle, every step of the way, I won't deny it. It has been a hard fought battle these last 2 years, as I fought, wept, and bled. The one thing I did not do is surrender. Yes, I felt despair, dejection, rejection. I was kicked in the teeth, knocked flat, run over, beat to shit, battered, bruised, and left in the ditch to die. Every time, I picked myself up, wiped away the blood and grime, and continued to put one foot in front of the other. The last 6 months my journey has picked up the pace, I have gone from crawling, to staggering, to bulling ahead, to the final sprint for the finish. So far, 2013 has passed in a frenetic blur. A glorious, difficult, exhilarating, wondrous, adventurous, frenetic blur. I will not rest on my laurels, there is still much to do. Much to learn. Many adventures waiting for me to pull the trigger. Adventures. Grand, Glorious Adventures.

Graduation

The Epicness of life continues. I am now an official, pager carrying, uniform wearing, fumbling probie Firefighter I. Yesterday's graduation was an exhilarating fusion of excitement, relief, enthusiasm, camaraderie, triumph and pride for each and every one of the small graduating class of 2013. I am still processing exactly what this means. For starters, I have my weekends back... at least until the First Responders course I will be taking in June... and the Water Rescue course with dates TBA. There is a lifetime of continuing education opening up before me, mostly free to me, one of the benefits of being a volunteer member of our Fire District: Hazmat training, Search and Rescue, rappelling, EMT classes, learning to drive the station's various emergency vehicles, Incident Command training. The list is endless, and there are going to be classes available that I haven't even thought of yet.

But for now, I will bask in the triumph of an intense 4 months of cramming my brain full of information, and training my body to respond without hesitation. Now the learning really begins.