Ethics In Sports

A Peaceful Life-Part 1


October 10, 2015

Hello, and welcome back to my blog! Last week, you read the Overview to my book. Don’t worry, if you missed it, you can find it here: http://www.thetammythomas.com/the-resilient-cyclist/. Before we get into the actual chapters, I’ll let you know that most (but not all) of what’s to come will be a first draft. And, by that I mean it hasn’t been edited at all. I have a few chapters that are polished and hopefully ready for publishers, but you’ll have to wait for the book to hit the big stage to read those. So if I skip a chapter every once in a while, you’ll know why.

Let’s get started with this book blog thing. Have you ever wondered why someone makes the choices they do? Or why some people make good decisions a habit while others don’t? Personally, I never gave it much thought until I woke up one day and realized that my poor decisions landed me in trouble with the federal government. How did a girl with strong southern Baptist roots end up abandoning her religious beliefs en route to international cycling fame? How did THAT innocent little girl of my youth end up branded a felon for life?

Whatever your role in life—athlete, coach, parent, lawyer, business person, teacher, student, etc.; you get the drift—listen up, because you’re about to read a cautionary tale about crossing the lines.

Chapter 1: Verdict Room

Sorry guys, but this is one of the sample chapters that I’ve saved for literary agents and publishers. You’ll have the chance to read it when it hits the big stage.


Chapter 2: A Peaceful Life

Great news! I’ve actually edited this chapter a few times. Enjoy!

Part 1

Papaw clipped a flat, narrow path that served as my race track. The competition was furious—a 1963 Ford Galaxy 500 driven by my grandparents versus my running speed. I had challenged them to a race from their house to my aunt’s house a quarter of a mile away. I stood ready on the carport starting line, anxiously waiting for the sound of the ignition turning over to signal the start of the race. They drove; I sprinted like the dickens.

My head was barely visible over the three-foot grass in the fields that were nearing hay baling season. I loved the feel of the grass brushing against my legs. An occasional cow cheered me on as I made my way through the field. Sometimes a bull grazed in the corner field. His horns were long enough to cause a distraction. I had my doubts that the barbed wire fence could contain him. I ran faster. To win the race, I had to jump a rusty iron gate; run through the hay field while keeping a watchful eye out for snakes and be careful not to step in cow manure; then make it to the creek. By this point, I was exhausted, and I still had to catch the rope and swing to the other side and step onto the gravel driveway before my grandparents arrived. I often won. Maybe they let me win, but I’ll never know. I was five years old, and this is where my imaginary career as a great athlete began, although I wasn’t yet aware that an event called the Olympics existed. The exhilaration of winning was a feeling I would go on to know many years later during my cycling career.

I often visited all four of my grandparents in rural Bentonia, Mississippi, where it was over a mile distance to a paved road. In early summer, there were always fields of tall grass waiting to be baled for hay. On the Waters side of the family, countless fields of large watermelons gave rise to my favorite summertime snack. On the Thomas side, I was the fifth generation to roam these fields. The grass would whisper while the wind blew until it was cut, dried, and raked. At harvest, the hay would be gathered; then tightly compressed into large round bales, some of which were hauled to a corner in the field; the rest stacked inside the barn. It was an irresistible playground, but I was scolded after I was caught jumping from hay bale to hay bale.


Sorry to leave you guys hanging, but that’s a book blog for you. Be sure to leave a comment, share, and we’ll pick back up with part 2 of chapter 2 next week. Adios!

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2 Replies

  1. Linda Edwards

    Those were great watermelons!! Miss Grandpa!

    1. The best watermelons I’ve ever eaten! Thanks for reading.

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