The Arlene Schnitzer Concert Hall, or “The Schnitz,” was a complete mystery to me and I couldn’t wait to look inside.Īs we approached the front doors I wished the event was taking place at night. Mom had already climbed out of the van and opened the sliding door for me.Īs soon as I stepped onto the pavement, I gazed up at our venue.
“I’m the one who’s ready to hurl.”īut he was too late. “Okay, Russ and I will get out here so he can register.” Mom sighed as she checked her watch again. He was right, but a dark blue Mini Cooper zipped in just ahead of us.
#ATHLETE VS MATHLETE TIMEOUT FREE#
“I can practically smell a free space, right up here,” Dad insisted. “Russ is supposed to register in ten minutes.” “We’ll find a spot,” Dad said determinedly. I had to admit, I was feeling a bit queasy myself. “I’m getting carsick,” Owen moaned during one of the laps. While my nerves jangled inside of me, Dad circled the same four blocks countless times while muttering about pay parking. The setting chosen for state was in downtown Portland, which meant limited parking. “Big appetite this morning,” Mom said a few minutes later as she watched me devour a second golden disk of deliciousness, smothered in syrup.ĭad let out a low whistle of appreciation when he handed me the syrup for waffle number three a few minutes after that. I finished it in what seemed like seconds and Dad got up to pour another round of batter onto the waffle iron. I took a bite of my waffle and discovered that eating wasn’t going to be a problem, after all. “I hope so.” My heart was pounding with excitement. “As long as it takes for us to be eliminated.” I smiled. “How long is what going to last?” Mom asked, joining us at the table.Įveryone looked at me for an answer, but I could only shrug. “Hold up, buddy,” Dad said, taking the bottle away from him. “So, how long is this thing going to last?” Owen asked, pouring a steady stream of maple syrup onto his butter-drenched waffle. Thank you,” I told her, although my stomach was filled with nerves and I wasn’t particularly hungry. “I made waffles,” Mom said, slipping one onto a plate and passing it to me. Once I was scrubbed, dried, dressed, and pressed, I headed for the kitchen, reminding myself along the way that the goal was to do our best and have fun. But I was dying to know how much farther we’d go. There were so many possibilities ahead of us! The team had already gone farther than any Lewis and Clark contingent that came before us, which felt like a great accomplishment. I made my way to the bathroom, and while the steam from my hot shower clouded the mirror, it also cleared my head. I leaped out of bed, anxious to get started. A quick assessment indicated that the sound originated inside my body. You kids have worked awfully hard.”Īfter a sleep filled with dreams I couldn’t remember, I awoke to a buzzing sound that wasn’t coming from my alarm clock. It thrilled me to know that they were truly behind me. I’d never doubted Mom’s support of my involvement with Masters of the Mind, but Dad and Owen had taken a little longer to come around. “Oh,” I said, feeling my cheeks get warm. “I know,” I said, smiling back at her before returning my attention to the task at hand. “I hope you know how proud of you we are.” “Definitely,” I said, turning to face her.Īnd if that led us to nationals? So be it. “Are you ready for tomorrow?” Mom asked from the doorway. I folded the T-shirt and placed it on top of the dark blue jeans that would match the rest of the team. The frames of my glasses and my curly hair were obvious, just like Nitu’s trademark braid. Silhouettes of each member of the team posed as The Thinker were printed in solid black on our emerald-green T-shirts. To my surprise, Mitch Matthews had designed it for us, and it was perfect. That night, I gathered my clothes for state, smiling at the team logo printed on my T-shirt. The only goal for Saturday morning was to do our best and to have fun.
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