Doesn't train well with others...

Updates and Lessons Learned

2010-06-17T15:16:00.018-05:00

Well, internet friends, a blog post has been way overdue. I could waste your time writing pithy paragraphs detailing the myriad of reasons why I have been absent. But, frankly, it boils down to the fact that my heart was not in it. I would read these amazing posts and feel inspired to write, but then the rhythm of life would drone on an on and I would mindlessly join in going through my daily motions.

Since I have been gone, several notable things have occurred.

First ~ I did get my sunny yellow card that stated all was well with the samples from my mole colony. I initially felt pretty good about receiving the card until my follow up appointment for my perpetually chapped nose in which the “no friend of mine” dermatologist told me that the results on my moles were actually inconclusive, but the surrounding tissue they biopsied was fine…..and I should really come in every 6 months for another ~~butchering~~ checkup. I guess on a positive note, I should mention that my nose is finally cleared up after I got to treat it with a steroid. Unfortunately, it was just a topical steroid – (Just kidding!)

Second ~ School is out for the summer. Now, those without children probably do not think this is notable, but now I am on as entertainment, referee, chauffeur, cook, maid, and social director 24/7. In addition to making it nearly impossible for me to double up training days unless I make friends with my bike trainer (and during the summer months that is just cruel and unusual punishment), I cannot manage to keep the house somewhat clean or the refrigerator stocked with enough fruits and vegetables. Who knew that my children could finish of an entire seedless watermelon in one day or consume a large bag of baby carrots in a “15 minute snack”? One day you are going to see a story on national news about a mother going ape-crazy after she was asked for the millionth time what was for breakfast/lunch/dinner? The news stream will show four children will sad faces and empty dinner plates while in the background I will be curled up in a fetal position rocking back and forth muttering “No, you cannot have a snack. We just had lunch. Dinner is after lunch and we have not had lunch yet. Dinner will be at 6:30 like it always is. No it is not 6:30 yet…….” Or something in that genre.

Finally ~I did my first race of the season. Kansas 70.3. It was not good. If you want a really good report visit here and I could not be happier for her. My race was not that race. I will give you the Cliff Notes Version of my race.

Left Thursday night. Kids Sobbed. Capt'n D stuck to my leg like glue. Needed to be peeled off. Drove away with tear stained faces burned into my memory. Guilt.
Got up really early Friday. Drove 10+ hours. Arrived in Death Valley with humidity (Kansas). Ran 40 minutes. Became dehydrated. Knew I was in trouble. Enjoyed good food and even better company. Called home. Capt'n D covered in hives. No I Son knocked the wind out of himself at the babysitter's. Cheese fell off bike and scraped knee. Guilt.
Slept in on Saturday. Enjoyed delicious breakfast. Facebook chat revealed hives were gone. Informed that Mr. Spie had big presentation next week and kids needed to go with him to office for couple of hours. Guilt. Got lost (as always) going to race site. Perspired profusely. Drive bike course. Panicked. Got lost going to hotel. Went to bed. Death Valley 90 degrees. Wisconsin 58 degrees (at 10 o’clock at night)
Race Day. Got up early. Drove to race site without incident. Chose not to bring wetsuit. Swim suddenly wetsuit legal (water temperature suspiciously dropped from 81 to 77.5 degrees overnight – must have dumped in a lot of ice!). One of a handful without wetsuits. Swam slow. Biked lots of hills. Wore out ¾ of the way through the bike. Began to realize I am in trouble. Cannot run. Cramping. Drink Gatorade and water at every water station. Run/walk course. Kindness of strangers garnered me a salt tablets and a 20 minutes later a little more pep in my step. Finished. Disappointment. Drank lots. Did not go potty until 4 hours and multiple drinks after the race. Called home. Swiss Miss has stomach flu. Guilt.
Monday. Got up early. Drove home. Arrived home to a more pleasurable climate. Capt’n D has stomach flu. Spie will never be able to go away for four days alone ever again. Guilt.

Please kind reader, do not draw the conclusion that I regret ever doing this race. I had a wonderful time with my friends and their wonderful kind family. I have the memory of Chrissy Wellington giving me my medal and I uncovered some serious flaws in my nutrition. I also learned that I really am a "Northern climate" girl.

And, although I am filled with guilt every time I leave my brood, I know that my children are also learning many things during my away races. They learn that people, even parents, are multifaceted. They know that I have many interests and passions and sometimes one interest takes me away for a bit, but that does not mean that my other interests (No I Son, Swiss Miss, Cheese, and Capt'n D) have dropped in the rankings. My kids also learn about training hard for a goal, taking risks, and disappointment. They also learn how to dust themselves off, learn from their mistakes, and to continue looking forward rather than back.

But, I keep hoping that the biggest lesson they learn when I travel for my races is that Mr. Spie is actually capable of taking care of their needs too!

Shielding myself from the brighter side

2010-03-25T17:03:00.020-05:00

I am once again brushing myself off after being knocked down by a bully in this playground called life.

I have to admit that I am getting a bit tired of receiving life’s jabs.

Similar to the way I discovered I have scoliosis, my latest altercation occurred much by accident and was brought on by a bit of vanity on my part.

For several months, I have had red, raw, flaky, and basically unattractive skin under and surrounding my nose. I look like I have had a cold for the past 4 months.

I have had similar issues with my skin decades ago when I was in college. I initially thought that the stress of my brief employment caused the dreaded dermatitis from my college days to appear once again. After two months of unemployed bliss, my rash remained and I decided it was time for some action.

I made an appointment with a dermatologist.

When I made the appointment, I explained my vanity issue and I also stated that I would like a skin check as I enjoy being outdoors, sometimes miss spots with the sunscreen, and as I am a Dalmatian (quite pale and covered with spots: freckles and moles), I realize the importance of yearly mole checks.

Due to the secondary reason of my visit, I got to meet the dermatologist dressed fashionably in a paper gown which is always a good start to an appointment.

The discussion about my face was quick and succinct and involved a really “cool” pocket magnifying glass. She didn’t think it was the dreaded disease of the past, but a new “high likelihood of reoccurring” disease that will be cured in a matter of weeks when I use the “very expensive not covered by my insurance as my diagnosis is considered a purely cosmetic issue” cream.

As we discussed the treatment of my perpetual “cold” face, the doctor began the skin check. I felt it was going rather well as she made it through my scalp and face rather quickly.

Then, as it went south, it all went south.

The doctor had to leave the room to get her skin marker -the one that is used to circle/mark suspicious spots. Then, copious use of the “not so cool now” magnifying glass began. After I was all scanned and done, there were three moles, according to the doctor, that were no longer welcome to reside on my body ~ two on my back, one on my abdomen two inches lower than my bellybutton – a place the sun has never kissed.

These moles, while they were not displaying all the traits of the really bad kind of moles, you know "gang" moles; they were not cute and cuddly. They were somewhat in-between ~kind of like ferrets.

Quick as a wink, I am signing consent for biopsy forms and filling out a sunny yellow (how ironic is that?) postcard that will be sent to me in 10 to 12 days if moles are in fact cute and cuddly and just looked tough. My spots were named and numbed. Razor blades were drawn. Skin was cauterized and my rogue moles were put in vials to be whisked away to the lab. Minutes later, as I am inhaling the scent of my burned skin, I am clinically bandaged, told not to swim until the biopsy sites are healed (approximately a week), and sent on home……. to wait.

Now that I have actually time to process what happened, I am a bit scared.

I am using much restraint to not don sweatpants and dive headfirst into pints of Ben and Jerry's Chubby Hubby and eat myself into a comfort induced coma.

Although, I did indulge a bit after my appointment and wore sweatpants the next day as jeans irritate my new second navel. I promise those behaviors are not the norm.

Mr. Spie kindly tells me that “Everything Will Be Alright”, but I really don’t need a reggae song, I really need a statistician as odds will be more comforting to me than crooning.

As this story ends, I, once again, have extra time to think as I am not able to complete all my workouts.

And because every story must have a happy ending, in my free time I have come up with a list of "positives"

Not swimming is better for the treatment of my face and my face is looking better -- perhaps it is because I am putting something that costs more than gold on it.

No doubled up workout days for a while means more sleep.

I am lighter now.

Parts of me are newer.

I now will not have to deal with the pressure of being a swimsuit model.

In the meantime, I wait. In addition to coming up with more positives, I am going to work on keeping my sunny* disposition and lose myself in the rhythm of everyday life or perhaps, Bob Marley.

*but not too sunny as we have learned, too much sun is not a good thing.

Sweet Relief and a cruise (or two or three)

2010-03-16T13:25:00.006-05:00

This past week I finally have returned to running. My mechanic/chiropractor (probably be-grudgingly) gave me the thumbs up to take the body out for a spin (run) this week while she is on vacation. (Her vacation = my sweet relief). I promised not to go crazy and drag race. She said that it probably would feel weird, like I was driving another person's vehicle.

All during the time I have been visiting her, I have to admit I have been still a skeptic. How is it possible that she is moving my spine with the little "pinger" gun? With each of my attempts (two) to solve my pain the rear problem, I decided that I would trust and follow the rules for the initial course of treatment. My initial chiropractic plan was for a month of treatment. I would give it a month and re-evaluate.

On Thursday of last week, I finally broke out the Asics and took them for a spin. During the midst of my euphoria I realized two things.

1. My gait is different. It feels weird. Perhaps the doctor really was moving my spine with each "ping".

2. I don't have the pain in my rear. I DON'T HAVE THE PAIN IN MY REAR!

My gait is truly different and I have been working on building my base and getting accustomed to the new gait. I land, roll, and push off on a different part of my foot now. Soon, I am going to have my gait reanalyzed to make sure that I still am wearing appropriate shoes as I would hate to be sidelined with another injury.

Each time I think about realization #2, I tear up a little. It has been at least 8 months since I have run without pain in my rear. It was a running companion that I did not want to have. This is not to say that I am not running pain free, as new muscles are being recruited during my runs and they, frankly, do not like being awoken from their slumber.

Although I realize that my body work is not quite done, I am happy that my mechanic lets me take her out for a spin every once in a while and with each mile I log and each hour spent in the body shop, I know that I am moving closer to my destination. (with undoubtedly some stops for baked goods on the way -- you know, for fuel!)

No Longer Under Warranty

2010-03-01T18:52:00.010-06:00

I fear that I am no longer operating under warranty. I know that I have well exceeded my 100,000 miles. My everyday vehicle is showing signs of wear and it is very frustrating.

I am the first to admit that I probably haven’t been as diligent as I should have with my preventative maintenance. Sure, I went to the mechanic when it was acting up, but as for regular oil changes, tire rotation, and the other things that race cars need…Well, I must admit I did not follow the standard maintenance procedures. I have spent many years just testing the limits and pushing the gears, not really concerned about possible wear and tear down the road.

Perhaps, that is why I am having problems today. I have been having the various knocks and bumps checked out when I put my vehicle through its paces, but never considered that something structural was the cause of my performance issues. Here I was just hoping to get a wheel alignment and now, as my previous post has revealed, I have just discovered that my frame is bent.

There really is no option to trade it for a newer model, and frankly I wouldn’t want to. It has too many memories attached to it. I know the story for every ding and scratch. It has carried four passengers safely to their destination. It is worn and comfortable, and up until as of late, quite predictable.

I have spent two weeks being angry at my vehicle. Upset that it has some serious structural damage and frustrated that I have been asked to not take it around the track for a while. I have been irritated that this imperfection had been hidden from me and annoyed at the problems that my bent frame has caused.

As my mechanic diligently works to minimize any performance issues due to my structural problems (as the frame cannot be completely straightened), I am cross. I can no longer function comfortably in my vehicle. It no longer feels like it fits. The contentment is gone and when it left, it took my power with it leaving me with a misfiring engine which is no longer able to produce the power it was just a mere two weeks ago.

I started to rue the day that I even took it to the mechanic. Friends, relatives, and my mechanic have assured me that my vehicle, although it still will have a bent frame, will run better than before. It will be more fuel efficient and my power will return. Perhaps it will even be faster. But, lately, I have started to doubt as I travel through each day which a vehicle that stutters and stops, lurches and sways.

Then today, I decided to look at my vehicle with a different perspective. Rather than viewing that it has let me down. I am starting to realize that perhaps it is the exact opposite.

My vehicle, which frame was bent more than 20 years ago, has worked hard compensating, dare I even say masking, its structural problem. I have run it through college competitive swimming, mountain biking and road biking, hiking, running, canoeing, white water rafting, and last and most importantly, carried precious cargo four separate times without any hesitancy.

More often than not, it has exceeded my expectations with its performance in race situations. It still fired when it is running low on fuel and the engine is overheating. It delivered all that I have asked of it and more.

The frame, although it is not straight, it is the same bent frame that has done all of the wonderful things in the past and with a little TLC and some rebuilding, it will continue to race through life. It can and will race because the engine and computer are not damaged ~because it is me.

throwing me a S-curve ball

2010-02-20T14:41:00.008-06:00

As you loyal readers know I have been fighting a running injury for several months now.

It, literally, is a pain in my butt.

It “reared” its ugly head sometime in June and has been my constant running companion ever since.

It is not good company.

At its worst, it would linger on days that I did not run and cause me discomfort in my everyday tasks such as driving, climbing stairs, and standing still. On its good days, I would feel pain and tightness when I ran, especially speed work and hills, but would not be felt at any other time.

When the bad times started to exceed the good and it became my “off” season, I finally decided that enough was enough and medical attention was sought.

I contacted a physical therapist with the hopes that a little time off, stretching, and therapy would heal all my woes.

Progress was slow at first as I am not a very patient person. I stopped running for an agonizing 6 weeks in hopes that time off and attention would heal my wounds. I did all of the stretches assigned and the exercises requested. I was more diligent about my recovery than dressing my children in clean clothes for school. I was sure this prescription work and I could pick up right where I left off.

Soon the 2010 season was upon me and training needed to start, so I began to run once again. The pain showed up to run with me the first time I laced up my trainers after my “healing hiatus”. As I was still in physical therapy some new hip and buttock exercises were added with the speculation that those parts were weak. (Personally, I wondered how I could have weak hips. I birthed four children)

A few weeks later, physical therapy and I broke up. I was not seeing progress and the time commitment was too much (in addition to the copays). The physical therapist said that the major inflammation was gone, but I would probably always have some pain when I run.

I could not accept that.

I gave it a month of running to see if it would improve. It did, but the pain still lingered, and the thought that it could possibly get worse was always droning in my mind while I ran.

So, I decided that I needed to try another method of healing.

Maybe it was skeletal rather than muscular?

After talked to several people and getting several recommendations, I made an appointment with a chiropractor.

My initial visit was a discussion of my symptoms, lifestyle questions, expectations, and purpose of my visit. Next there were several tests performed including nerve conductivity, examination of my feet and stance, and finally a full set of spinal x-rays. The results of all of these tests were to be discussed at my next appointment.

I came to that appointment looking forward to finding answers to why I hurt when I run. I also was a little apprehensive as I might find out why I hurt when I run.

Good or bad, I was ready.

What I got was a curve ball I didn’t expect.

First, the chiropractor put up the x-ray of my skull and neck and a control x-ray next to it. She asked if noticed any differences between the two. Immediately, I answered that I jut my head out from my shoulders. When I was in therapy for my swimmers slump, I was doing exercises to bring it back into alignment. (Man, I am really falling apart this year!) She indicated that I have lost the curve in my neck and without that curve, the weight of the head increases three times. With the proper curve the head only weighs 10 to 15 pounds to carry around, without the curve 30 to 45 pounds. (Wow! that must explain why I always feel the weight of the world is on my shoulders.)

Next, she started putting up the full x-ray of my spine and without her even saying a word, I stared at the lighted x-rays and exclaimed. “I have scoliosis!”

(My sister has scoliosis and as a child I was screened multiple times, by various doctors and specialists. My right hip has always been higher than my left and it was just speculated that I had one leg slightly longer than the other.)

There it was lit up clear as day – “mild” S curve. The first kink was right below the shoulder blades. The second kink is one or two vertebrae right above the tail bone. Those kinks correspond exactly with where my muscular problems have been – my right shoulder and my right hip.

My first question for the chiropractor was since I have been like this all my life, why am hurting now? Then, my mind raced immediately to my two girls and now the fact that I need to be extra vigilant about their screening for scoliosis, almost to the point that I want to them to get x-rays as adolescents.

Now that I have had time to process it, I have more that I need to ask:

Does this explain my pain in my shoulder and upper back that I always have?
How will treatment relieve this symptoms if there is always going to be muscular pressure?
Which people (obviously my doctor and pediatrician) is it important to disclose this information?
Will it get worse and cause problems for me in the future?

I also have some questions that I would love to ask by probably will not. Most pressing on my mind –

How much taller would I be if my spine was straight?

Poking Teams

2010-02-05T17:28:00.004-06:00

So…. I have recently become involved with Facebook.

At first, I came to the relationship kicking and screaming. I usually am a here and now kind of girl. (Mr. Spie is rolling his eyes right now and saying “I wish”).

Meaning, that in the world there are a lot people that would give anything go back and relive high school, college, their 20s, etc.

Me?

I like where I am right now and will like where I will be in the future. Maybe this will change when I am 80, but right now this is the philosophy I subscribe to.

This philosophy really has messed with my head as I venture into the Facebook world.

My current friends, I connect with every day. They really don’t need some pithy status update to know where I am at mentally. In fact, at any point of the given day most of them will accurately be able to guess where I am at physically as well. I live my life a little like an open book.

Past friends, this is where I become a little muddled. I have friends that range back to middle school that I keep in contact with. I have a friend from grade school in which I get occasional updates. We are “Christmas Card” friends. Previous to my Facebook, I rarely have even given a second thought to friends from high school. My feeling was if the relationship was important to each of us, I would still be in contact with them.

But….

I have recently befriended a “Christmas Card” friend and when I was scoping out her friends, there was the high school “gang” sprinkled throughout.

Curiosity, my friends can be a dangerous thing.

For weeks, I have been looking at her list debating whether or not I should contact one of the “gang”.

I even added my maiden name and changed my profile picture to include my face to increase my recognizability. (I was previously just my torso and legs running – I extremely dislike myself in photos). These things were done in conjunction with my Facebook experiment of posting a positive or humorous thought a day to combat some of the negativity that I was seeing in the Facebook world! (….which is another topic for another day. I mean seriously can everyone’s lives be that bad each and every day?)

These changes and actual posting were done to see if any of “Christmas Card's” friends would contact me. It unfortunately did not work.

So…

I am left to figure out why I want to have contact with my former friends?
Narcissism?

What is my intention for the relationship if contact is made?
Validation?

Tired of the self analysis, I nervously chose someone today and I wrote them. I didn’t friend request.

Out of my realm of comfort?

Yes!

This has transported me back to high school and I am currently awaiting someone to pick me for their team for dodge ball.

Am I going to get picked or left holding the ball?

The only thing I can do is wait, see, and be ready to play.

keeping it in line

2010-02-02T16:11:00.002-06:00

During the busyness of the holidays and my previous “working” life, I got a little sloppy.

There were so many “must dos” that had to be done that there was little to no time to tackle the “should dos”. The “shoulds” were put on a shelf in plain view. A reminder of things I needed to do (and to be blatantly honest, some of the “musts” were put on there too). I would often come home at the end of the day and look up at the “shoulds” up on the shelf and have little or no desire to tackle them.

One of these “shoulds” was to return the call to my long time friend. She and I have been friends from the 6th grade. Together, we fought our way through Middle School, survived High School, and celebrated College. We were there for first apartments, first boyfriends, weddings, children, and life. When I moved up to the snowy tundra of Wisconsin, it moved our relationship into the long distance category, but we still made it work.

My friend called during Christmas break and as I was struggling to keep my head above water, I just couldn’t find the right time to call her and catch up. I would think of this “should” often as I looked at the phone and then went through all of the other things that I “must” do – and the “musts” always would win. I kept telling myself that I would get to it and planned that once my employment had ended, I would make the time to call her back.

She, however, beat me to the punch by leaving me this message on my machine last week.

Hi Spie. It’s friend. I just returned home from an 8 day hospital stay. Call me when you get a chance.

Needless to say, whatever “must” I planned do to at that moment (which was feed my children lunch) was put on hold as I immediately returned her phone call. (Fortunately for my hungry children, Mr. Spie was home for lunch too and fed the ravenous brood)

My friend, it turns out, was life threatening ill. Those 8 days? More than half were spent in ICU.

Guilt has quite a hearty punch.

Thankfully, she is fine now. Recovering at home and counting her blessings.

Me? I am making a conscious effort to remember to keep mine where they belong….. at the forefront of the line.

snipettes of life

2010-01-24T19:45:00.010-06:00

Mr. Spie is away for a week -- a combination of pleasure and business. How did we celebrate? Home bound with two kids down with fever over this weekend.

I will be finished with "outside of the home" work in 7 days and my new "free" time is already spoken for.

Just realized that my first triathlon race of the season (a HIM) is about 4 months away. Perhaps I need to extend my time on the bike soon.

As gross as Hamburger Helper is nutritionally -- it really does taste good.

I was "coerced" into a Facebook account for my soon to be former job. Not really sure what I want to do with it. I prefer to keep tabs on people using my husband's account -- anonymity ROCKS!

I find that even without children present, I gravitate towards children's programming. My current faves? Phinneas and Ferb and Johnny Test.

I was kicked out -- (oops I mean released) after three months of physical therapy for a pain in my rear last week.

The pain is still there and it is not one of my relations.

Finally, I have made a pact to have a drama free February~JOIN ME!

Shoes

2010-01-03T19:56:00.007-06:00

These past couple months I have been distracted by shoes.

Despite what you may think, it was not the footwear fantasy that you all imagine.

In September, I was offered the opportunity to have a new pair of shoes. In the box, they looked great, matched with the outfits in my closet. They fit my needs. I agreed to take them.

Initially they fit. As I walked around in the store, they looked fabulous. In my head, I was already imagining what these shoes could do for me.

Days passed and I wore the shoes often. Sometimes they were comfortable. Other times they pinched or rubbed. After a while, they really started to feel uncomfortable. Convinced that I was not wearing the shoes correctly, I made changes to how I wore the shoes.

I added trouser socks.

The shoes still rubbed.

Perhaps it was my feet?

I added thicker socks.

The shoes still rubbed.

Finally, I realized that it was not my feet.

I had many shoes that did not hurt my feet.

It was not the shoes.

There was nothing wrong with the shoes. They still looked great and would be a wonderful addition to any person’s wardrobe.

My feet were just not made for these shoes.

Of course, I am not talking about shoes; I am talking about a job.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

In September, I was offered a part-time position that seemed to fit my family’s schedule. Taking this position would help out my church and many friends, which was a win-win in my opinion.

Unfortunately, while I was fulfilling the obligations of the job, I was unable to fulfill the obligations and needs of my family, which really is non-negotiable.

As good as they made me feel on the inside, they just were not working for me and others outside

– so the shoes are going back to the store.

And soon my shoes will once again become comfortable*

*and I will get back to my irregular blogging

Opening a Door

2009-11-22T17:49:00.011-06:00

Dear House,

I know that I have not taken care of you as I should.

Your floors are not clean. Your porcelain does not sparkle, and your windows do not shine.

I have let the children mar your walls and have left many projects undone.

It is NOT because I am no longer committed to you.

I assure you that I am not seeing another.

I just have not had the time needed to invest into our relationship. I attempt to do the bare minimum to keep up appearances, but I know that it is not good enough.

I am well aware of what I have swept under the rug and for that I want to apologize.

I want to improve.

I want to re-Comet.

I just have to prioritize and find the time between all of the other activities I am involved in.

You are important.

I would like to ask your forgiveness and assure you that I am trying to make you a priority again.

I will follow my cleaning schedule and will not leave you neglected.

I promise that I will not become angry at you and expect you to put a fantastic performance with just a few hours to prepare when company is coming.

Will you accept my apology? Do you believe me when I say I am going to be better?

GREAT!

*whew*

And now that we have finally re-opened our lines of communication, can I ask you a favor?

Can you please return the things that you are hiding from me in spite, such as my digital camera, Mr. Spie's gym bag, and our I-Pass transponder?

We really need these things and I think it would help our relationship if we both come "clean".

Wouldn't it be refreshing to wipe out all memories of our past indiscretions and start out again with a spotless relationship?

I anxiously await your response.......

or my missing items.

Sincerely,

Spie

What is it with me and maps?

2009-11-08T17:57:00.021-06:00

Well, it's not December, but it is darn close. So I guess you are due a race report.

As you recall my goals were simple for my No Skirts Allowed Adventure Race.

They were to:

1. Not make complete fools of ourselves

2. Not to be DFL

Well, one out of two ain't bad! Let's just say that there is a reason for pre-race meetings.

My race was doomed from the start. My partner in crime's family had been suffering from illnesses left and right. My family could not get our act together and get out of town on time. Traffic was unbelievably bad through Chicago and Indiana.

Time and Health were not on our side.

My friend made it to the strongly recommended pre-pre-race meeting, the night before the race slightly late. She was able to get most of the information, pick up our packets, and get trained for the ropes course without a problem.

The morning of the race, we ran a bit late and got a bit lost (as is always the case). We arrived at the real pre-race meeting after all of the important information had already been imparted. In our rush to get our bikes to transition, our course plotted out, and me trained on the ropes course so I wouldn't die (as I was told "red means dead"), a brochure fell out of our course packet that we received that morning. As we are both veterans of many a running race, we thought that what fell out was one of those many local brochure/pamphlets that are inserted in the race packet only to be recycled when one returns home. We promptly disposed of the brochure (as we are not litter bugs) and continued on our merry yet hurried way.

(Insert ominous music)

The race was not at all what I expected. The web information was adamant that you have a mountain bike with knobby tires and bushwhacking clothes. We were required to carry a compass, knives, a fully stocked medical kit, a whistle, and space blanket. I was envisioning us ripping through the forest on some single track, dropping our bikes to scout out some obscure landmark with our compass, and completing some ropes challenges in between.

The actuality of the race did not match my vision in any way shape or form.

This race was really 2 events in one: an urban scavenger hunt and a hiking adventure.

Due to circumstances under our control, we only experienced one part of the race.

Our race started out with the volunteers stealing the front tire from one of our bikes. Our first task when the race started was to run to the barn and collect our front tire and put it back on our bike correctly. Each team carried a multicolored score card. Each box represented a task or clue we had to write down or complete. Certain colored boxes (Pepto -Bismal pink) were mandatory, all others were optional. Once our tire was on correctly, a volunteer initialed our first pink box and we were on our way..... or not.

In our hurry to get our bikes to the transition area, I forgot that I removed my bike bag (you know the one with the CO2 pump, cartridges, tubes, patch kit, tire irons) and put it in the car while it was in transit. So, while everyone else was riding out and starting their adventure, we were riding out to the parking lot to collect my bike bag.

Once we were assured of our bike safety, we took our time and checked our clue and the map that was included in our packet. We figured out the route to get to the location that held the next answer for our clue sheet. We took city streets on our mountain bikes to get to our next location which was located in subdivision..... and this is where our rapid decent into foolishness began.

I will just say that once you get used to being clipped into your bike, cages are not your friend. After I assured my partner that the full medical kit was not needed, that it was only a "flesh wound", we continued on our way riding on city streets filling out box after box with the requested information. We purchased baked good from Panera. We counted orbs around a fountain. We found out the date the library was founded. At each location we saw other teams with road maps. We wondered how they knew which road maps to purchase.

Finally, after following all of the clues on our sheet, we were at the park where you pick up the canoes. My partner's sister met us at the bridge, holding one of those maps everyone else had. Now, we changed from racer to inquisitors.

"Where did you get that map?" -- "The race start"

"Who gave you that map?" --"The race volunteers"

"What is on that map?"--"All of the clue locations are marked on this map. What? You don't have one of these maps?"

We promptly ran to the volunteers at the canoe pick up and told them that we did not have the map. They looked at us slack jawed and said.

"How did you even get here?"

Remember that brochure we threw out?.... um, yeah. Apparently they didn't stuff their race packets with brochures.

The radioed the race directors and told them our plight. They gave us their copy of the map and then carried our canoe to the river for us. (A special privilege apparently given to the last people to arrive at the canoe enter point). Chuckled a little at our expense and sent us on our way.

The canoe portion of the trip was not kind to us. We felt confident as we floated through our first rapid section and breezed past two teams who had, unfortunately, dumped. We tried, quite unsuccessfully, to navigate our way smoothly down the river. I was in the stern and that was not a good decision. Then everything took a turn for the worse....in the form of a submerged tree.

We dumped. I lost my paddle. It was cold and the water was even colder. We managed to get to shore and flip our canoe, which was now piloted by my friend. My job, to sing to her. At one point, we tried unsuccessfully to rescue my paddle, soaking me even more. The end of our canoe portion couldn't come soon enough. The canoe ride ended in a park and we were once again greeting by my friend's sister, who was the reason we could continue the race.

By the time we got out of the river, I am sure that I was in the beginning stages of hypothermia. I was shaking uncontrollably, I had lost feeling in my fingers and toes, and my lips were turning blue. Our cheering section took one look at me and asked if I wanted her coat. I took her generous offer without a second thought. I ended up stripping all my top layers off to my race singlet and clutched the coat to me in dire need of warmth. She also took my friend's wet coat in order to alleviate our load.

Health -- for me at that moment -- not the best.

At this point, after all of our pitfalls and pratfalls, we decided that we were only going to find the required clues in the park and hightail it back to our bikes. We quickly gathered our clues, recorded them on our now soaked score card, and hiked back to our bikes.

Our time deadline was 2:00. It was 1:15. Time, once again, was not our friend.

We breezed through the last required clues (a MAP really helps!) and began our trek home. Only to realize that the map we needed to get back to the race start was in the pocket of my friend's wet coat ----which was with her sister and not with us. We attempted, unsuccessfully, to use our heads and memories to return to camp, but after 6 hours of trekking around Indianapolis without any nourishment (as we incorrectly assumed there would be aid stations like at all the other running/triathlon races we participate in), we were not in our right minds.

Our salvation came in the form of the teams that were also bringing up the rear. We explained our plight and asked them if they would help us back to camp. We traveled as a peleton and return to camp with 15 minutes left in the challenge.

Frustrated at our circumstance, we threw down our clue sheet and rushed to the ropes course in hopes that we could do some of the challenges prior to them shutting down the race. We were able to try the high rock climbing wall and that was it. Disappointed, we returned to the race start to gather our emotions and garner some nourishment.

Before you have the sympathy cards written out for me and in the mail, there were several highlights to my adventure race.

1. The race shirt was the coolest race shirt I have ever received.
2. The volunteers were the friendliest, most helpful, and best dressed (all the men were wearing skirts) I have ever encountered.
3. I was introduced to and now love NOODLES company food.
4. I had the best partner ever. Despite everything she kept her sense of humor.
5. I now have a real adventure story.

We have tentatively talked of doing the race next year. We have many ideas and strategies we plan to implement. Thus far, our short list is~

1. Drive down the day before the race and stay at the camp in order to both make the pre-pre-race meeting and the pre-race meeting.
2. Arrive to the pre-race meeting on time. (Will be solved by implementing #1)
3. Make sure we have all the maps (Will be accomplished if we implement #2)
4. Bring nourishment for the race
5. Collect only the required clues during the urban scavenger hunt
6. Never put Spie in the stern of the canoe

Based on our plight, feel free to comment and add some recommendations of your own and if you are doing an adventure race of your own, I would suggest that you DO NOT ask me for any advice.

(BTW -- We were not DFL -- We were one above DFL.)

WOW! It's October?

2009-10-04T13:21:00.015-05:00

Fall (and life) is just racing past at a pace that I cannot maintain. Every time I seem to get close to catching up (like when it is at a water station), it gets refueled and takes off like a rocket again, leaving me gasping and gaping as I look at its running tighted behind disappear.

Needless to say, there are literally a bajillion other things I should be doing rather than writing to you dear blogging friends, but I right now need a little down time and as I am sitting while I writing this post, I'm labeling this as rest and recovery.

On the racing front, I have an adventure race coming up next weekend. My partner and I had grandiose ideas on how we were going to practice orienteering together, take a spin or two in our friend's canoe, and I was going to run on the local cross country course to work on my trail running skills. Thus far, a week away from the race, a whopping 0% of those goals have been met.

Although I originally had no goals in my head for this race other than having lots of fun, I have now created two new ones:

1. We will not make complete fools of ourselves.

2. Not to be DFL.

Pretty lofty, I know, but I am hoping they will be accomplished. I will let you know in December, when I finally get around to writing the race report. I am sure that it will be pretty gosh darn funny.

And in complete, way behind schedule fashion, I am now FINALLY going to write a review of some Sugoi tri-shorts which were so awesomely gifted to me by fellow blogger T. when the weather was warmer. I received these shorts as a reward for being attacked by a bird (or at least that is how I remember it).

I was uber-excited to win the shorts. I could not believe how thin they were when I tried them on. They were like tissue paper. I was afraid of ripping them! The chamois was really thin too, not meant for anything much longer than an Olympic distance triathlon -- which left me with a problem as I only signed up to race HIM distances this year. In order to do a "kinda" review, I decided that I was going to wear the shorts on a really hot day during a brick workout. My reasoning was that you really can swim in most anything (except perhaps a prom gown), but the comfort of biking/triathlon shorts really come into play during the bike and run. Additionally, if I wore them on a really hot day, I would perspire (okay sweat) a lot and the shorts would get wet, then I could see how they dry during the run or after my workout.

What I failed to take into consideration in my plan is that summer never really did visit the state of Wisconsin this year and that really hot day in which I had to do a brick workout never came into fruition.

So, months passed and every time I opened my triathlon gear drawer in my dresser (don't we all have one of those?), those shorts would not so kindly remind me that I have not reviewed them yet...Leaving me riddled with sadness and guilt.

But... believe it or not last weekend (the September one), plan B emerged and I can (sort of) complete a full review (swim/bike/run) of the shorts!

Obviously, as indicated by my lofty goals above, I am not training for my upcoming adventure race. I am, HOWEVER, training for the Hot Chocolate 15K. Usually my long runs have been on Saturday, but due to a gymnastics meet for my daughter, I had to move my long run last week to Sunday. (I know you are thinking what has this go to do with the shorts, but keep reading it will all become clear soon!)

About two weeks ago, my friend called me and said that she got an e-mail asking if she would be available to be a swim angel for the Danskin Triathlon that was happening last Sunday. She asked if I would be interested in volunteering with her. Since triathlon has given me so much, I was thrilled to have the opportunity to give back. After, clearing it with Mr. Spie, I promptly said YES! Then, I had to figure out how to fit my 10 mile training run in that day too. I decided, the best way to do both and not compromise any more family time, was to run to the race venue in the morning (my friend would meet me there with my wetsuit and towel), swim as an angel, and then run home.

Naturally, I chose to wear the Sugoi shorts for my adventure into insanity.

The shorts were really comfortable during my to the venue run and as it was dark out, I appreciated the reflective accents on the leg making me a little more visible. They were really lightweight and did not bunch or ride up during my run. The chamois was a non issue as well. There was no diapered feeling at all.

During my time as a swim angel (and what a rewarding and eye-opening experience that was!) the shorts were covered by my wet suit. Although I cannot fully comment on the feeling of the shorts in the water by themselves, I can state that unlike my other triathlon/bike shorts that I have worn under a wetsuit. These shorts did not bunch up and make funny bulges on my legs or cut off the circulation to my thighs because they had rolled. They stayed close to the body and in place, which is really impressive when you consider they do not have any leg gripping elastic. I was also glad that when I was done, the shorts stayed on my body when I not so delicately stripped my wetsuit off!

After my swim, I packed up my gear, put on my running shoes, gave my wetsuit and towel to my friend, and went to collect my free t-shirt for volunteering (I received the technical T rather than the cotton T -baBING!). We then walked together to my run starting point. All in all I spent about 1/2 hour just getting ready to run. By the time I started to run my way back home, my top I was wearing was definitely still damp, the shorts however, were mostly dry! My run back in the shorts was the same as my run to the venue. The were cool (in both senses of the word) and comfortable!

Although, this day did not include biking, that is not to say that I haven't worn the shorts on the bike at all. In the "heat" (figuratively, not literally) of triathlon training, I was riding my bike upwards of 3 times a week. With all of the other stuff, not only swimming and running but also parenting, dishes, cooking, cleaning, shopping, etc., it did not leave a lot of time for laundry. The Sugoi shorts saw a lot of saddle time and they were comfortable, as long as it was no longer than a 2 hour ride. My three hour rides in which I road tested them were not all that fun in the end (or somewhere near my end).

All in all they are really great shorts, they are a bit shorter than my other triathlon bottoms, but what is the use of all that work if you don't show it off a little right?

Thanks to T. for her generosity (and forgiveness for the really late review!).....

....and send me really good racing thoughts for my upcoming race -- I think that we may need it!

How Not to Race a Half Iron Man

2009-09-17T17:03:00.039-05:00

(I know that this post is about two weeks late. The craziness referenced below continues...)

Step 1: Preparation and Training

The weeks prior to the race had not put in me in a good mental state. I was stressed from many things from volunteer responsibilities to advocating for my children in school. The stress of my day to day life became debilitating, draining, and demoralizing. I began to view my workouts as something more that I needed to get done. I would be riding my bike and always be calculating how much more time I needed to ride. On my runs, I would do the same.

What made matters worse in my training was that I seemed to keep getting slower and slower. I was deteriorating into a really bad mental state. I began to doubt my ability, question the authenticity of the result at Racine, and chastise myself for having “podium dreams”. Up until the day of the race, I was still fighting my mental battle. I just tried to get myself into a positive mental state, through self talk and tough love from M. My goal for the race was to race the best race I could that day and to have fun. Whatever will be, will be.

Step 2: Tapering and Resting:

After much anticipation (rather dread) race weekend was finally here. The plan was to leave early Friday morning, to get the kids settled at the in-laws and then Mr. Spie and I would drive the bike course, pick up my race packet, enjoy a nice dinner without kids, return to the in-laws, and retire early for our big day of racing and spectating.

The reality was that Mr. Spie had a mandatory meeting Friday morning and we hurriedly ate lunch and left town about 1. We drove down to my in-laws. Pushed the kids out of the car –err I mean dropped off the kids and hurried out to packet pick up. We scoped out the swim course and got lost driving the bike course. We searched out dinner about 8 and arrived back at the in-laws by 9:00. We were greeted by our brood in full grandma/grandpa frenzy. After many bedtime reminders and idle (and not so idle) threats, we FINALLY got everyone settled and asleep by 11:00 p.m.

Step 3: Technology and Pacing

My electronics and gadgetry were spot on for this race. My watch (as I was just going “old school” again) was on its last legs. The Indiglo was not working for days prior to the race and I hoped that the battery would last throughout my race.

I guess my hoping was for naught as I forgot to hit start at the swim start… and again at the bike start…. And just didn’t even bother for the run start.

You would think that I would check my bike computer before the race started based on the fact that at my last HIM my bike computer didn’t register. Well, you are wrong and once again my bike computer did not register.

In summary, I was swimming without time, biking without mph, miles, and time, and just said “what’s the point” and ran without knowing my time.

Step 4: Nutrition and Hydration

Nutrition for the entire race (including breakfast)

• Bowl of Raisin Bran (pre-race breakfast)
• One Cliff Chocolate Brownie Bar (on the bike)
• One- half of a bottle of Gatorade (on the bike)
• One aero bottle of water (on the bike)
• **crickets chirping***

Raise your hand if you see a problem!

Why are all of your hands raised?

Oh….. yeah….ummm…..

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
So, all of the above elements were setting me up for a craptastic event. But, sometimes I even surprise myself.

THE SWIM

The swim was fantastic. It was two loops of a rectangle. The white capped HIM men started the race at 6:45 and the yellow capped HIM women started the race 3 minutes later. The water was much warmer than Lake Michigan (77 vs. 64) and…. I actually swam it – freestyle. There was no panic. There was no “cannot put face in water”. I fell into a rhythm and just swam. I breast stroked just a few times to sight, when I lost visual on my destination buoy, and once when I got goosed by HIM man. (He apologized – no offense taken!) Amazingly enough, I exited the swim surrounded by more white cap than yellow.

What was even more amazing is that Mr. Spie figured out which of the yellow capped wetsuited woman was me and actually got a picture of me exiting the water. He said that he saw a person wearing my style wetsuit and was acting like me so he took at chance. (At first I was very impressed and excited that we were more in "sync" than I thought. Then I took offense and grilled him about what he meant by acting "Spie" like.)

THE BIKE

The bike was two loops on country roads with several finger offshoots with 180 degree turns (not my favorite). Because I was riding blind, I just decided to pedal. It was not the slaughter fest that was Racine (even though my final mph was slower --on the new bike *sniff*). I was passed, but not with the magnitude that it was in Racine. I stared at the calf of each of the women that passed with much interest. As the fourth one in my age group passed me, I said aloud, "There goes my Olympic dreams" and just kept pedalling (and obviously not eating). I was not downtrodden, as I know my strength is in the run.

As a way to compensate for my lack of feedback about my ride, I came up with an alternative plan. In triathlon, you are always staring at the backside of someone, I noticed that this guy and I were going about the same pace. I decided, since I have no feedback on my own riding other than my mental assessment, that as long as I could keep that guy in my sights, I was going to be okay. He would pull ahead and I would push harder, I would catch up and back off a little to rest. He was my carrot and I was the rabbit. Now, before you start having drafting thoughts run through your head, I always remained draft legal -- three bike lengths behind --as I am totally a rules kind of girl. I only was in the draft zone once when I pulled along side him during the return leg of the last loop to thank him for his pacing help and we exchanged pleasantries. I pulled forward for a little bit and a short while later, he passed riding off into the distance (but still in my line of sight!).

THE RUN

(During my run, my visor was really bothering me. Here I screaming at Mr. Spie to take the visor .

Oh and the lady in the bikini behind me was very popular with the spectators)

The run was brutal. I was so excited to be off the bike (my weakest discipline) that I could not even imagine the torture that lay before me. The run course was a C shaped course (two loops of course) on old and crowned country roads through cornfields. The Olympic course athletes were running on the same course as well (1 loop) so you knew that some of the people running with you were "almost done". As I got through transition and onto the run course, I noticed that I was quite tired and the "pep" I was used to running with was no longer present. (I know that you are all screaming at your computer "DUH! You didn't eat!", but realize that when I am that deficit in calories, I really don't think straight) After a few minutes of running the internal arguments commenced.

"Just walk, there is no shame in walking"
"You haven't even given this a fair shake, walking admits defeat and you are not defeated"
"Okay, how about using that watch that is just telling the time on your arm and go Galloway?"
"You can do this, just keep moving forward. It will be okay"

Just repeat this or a variation of this internal conversation about 1000 times and sprinkle with some self defamation such as "What were you thinking -- podium? Hah" and "You are really slow" and this paints a pretty accurate picture of my mental state during the run. Then, after a couple miles, I passed a person in my age group -- the fourth woman (and last) woman in my age group that passed me on the bike.

After the pass, my new goal was to just keep moving so she could not pass me back. I started coming up with a "run survival" game plan. I would "get a drink" (walk, rest, whatever...) at every other water station. Run and look towards my next rest --er drink. Drink quickly and start moving again. I passed another woman in my age group as I was implementing my plan. She stopped at one of my "run through" water stations. As I passed her, she screamed "Hey, she's in my age group! You go momma!!!". I smiled and decided to keep on moving, keep with my survival plan, and keep her behind me. As I looped back again, I saw the two ladies I had passed and I was gaining ground, but I still kept with the plan. The final water station, a mile from the end, I decided that I wasn't going to stop. I pumped myself up with the thought that it was only 8 more minutes of work (during a normal run) and I could make it. When I crossed the line, I could stop. As I gained a little speed in the final mile, I passed another woman in my age group and that was all the incentive I needed to keep the feet moving. I was going to finish and I was not going to be repassed. Finally, as I crossed the finish line, the wheels came off. I could barely stand upright to get the chip taken off of my ankle. Mr. Spie was furiously taking pictures and I barked at him to stop and to immediately come over, keep me upright, and direct me toward the food.
I downed a Pepsi and went for the pizza. I tried the pizza and my body wanted no part of it. They were streaming the Olympic results on a large screen TV in the park pavilion. Due to my technological ineptness, I had no idea of my results. With some sugar in my blood stream, I was starting to think a little clearer and I went to find out when the results for the HIM were going to be posted. The volunteer told me it would be a few minutes and I went back in search of Mr. Spie. On my way back to the pavilion, I ran into my "carrot". I thanked him again and asked how he fared. He had difficulties on the run. His wife was racing too and introductions were made. As we were chit chatting, Mr. Spie came up and told me that he had good news and bad news. He asked me which news I wanted first. I said tell me the bad news...

"You were 15 minutes slower than your last race"

A bit disappointing, but not unexpected. The swim in this race was not short and I totally fell apart on the run. I accepted the result and chalked up the increase in time to a big nutritional lesson learned.

So what was the good news you ask?

How cool is that?
(I now am over the top addicted to the sport of triathlon)

Just Because

2009-09-04T10:01:00.003-05:00

I haven't much time as I am scrambling to leave for my race after lunch. I have bags to pack, tires to pump up, children to retrieve, laundry to fold.. just an ordinary day.

Life has been a bit busy to blog right now, but I promise a race report and other ramblings soon.

In the meantime, enjoy this "parent of a preschooler" humor.

I always knew the perkiness was just an act!

Race on!

Spie

Jinkies!

2009-08-24T07:33:00.021-05:00

Our costumes for the kid's parade at the county fair this week.

We won first prize for our category!

We need to solve the mystery of the absent blogger!

Our vacation was wonderful, not as restful as I would have liked as it is never restful to travel 8 hours at a time in a car with a bunch of meddling kids.

There also were adventures abound starting from our overnight stay in Pittsburgh in an “off the beaten path” motel. Our family of 6 crammed into a 10x10 room with one double bed and all of our camping gear. Cheese did not want to sleep on the air mattress on the floor with SwissMiss and I gladly traded her as I did not want to sleep on the bed! (I am kind of a hotel snob – this establishment really gave me the heebie jeebies). The decor of yellow fixtures in the bathroom, tobacco colored lampshades, and dark wood paneling were newly “remodeled” according to their business cards.

Our subsequent accommodations in the Shenandoah National Forest and Chippokes Plantation were much more to my liking (tent camping!)

The Spie-mobile loaded for our epic adventure!

The gang at the National Cemetery in Gettysburg.

It was really, really hot. Can you tell?

The view from our campsite in the Shenandoah Forest

The Wildlife

Our Hikes

Day at the Ocean

Jamestown

After a week of recovering from our vacation and resuming workouts, we now are gleefully or woefully (depending on whom you speak to) inching towards the start of school. School begins week from today and my last triathlon race (another HIM) is a little less than 2 weeks away!

Undoubtedly, more excitement and adventures await for us all! (One of first adventures for the family are haircuts for No I Son and Captain D!)

Lo and Behold

2009-08-03T14:38:00.012-05:00

Well, not all race photographers are art school drop outs. Out of the 6 photos there are of me racing, five were acceptable. As I never post photos of myself, this is a rarity, to be relished and recollected for perpetuity...

I love this picture. It is the classic hitting of the watch. Other things of note is the expression of the athlete next to me... It is priceless, that is if you are not blinded by my the glare off of my very pale body... Guess who takes those sunscreen/skin cancer warnings seriously? ME!!!! That's who!

I can't remember exactly where the bike photographers were.... Although it needn't matter as my expression is the same in both bike pictures. I am sure that it was probably the same throughout the entire ride with the exception of when I was yelling "Thank you" to all the volunteers and police and when I finally was done with the ride and able to dismount --that picture would have definitely had a look of relief.

Look at the bounce in that step! This picture was taken shortly after my potty stop. I am continually looking for options for my hair. This year I have tried hats (too hot), the elastic band (which I am sporting here and not quite a fan of the full force forehead), and a visor (which I left in transition as it was not sunny and I haven't really become accustomed to running with it yet). I think that for my next HIM, I will be sporting the visor as the forehead (at least for me) is a bit too much!

My finish photo.

I really don't think that the camera man could have been any farther away. I had waited to stop my watch, hoping to get a good finisher's photo....Oh, well at least I can tell it is me crossing the finish line -- or at least I think it is me.

********************************************************************************

In other news..

This week our family is gearing up for our big CAMPING VACATION. Each year our family along with family friends go for a camping adventure. Four adults, seven kids, and two-billion pounds of gear. Last year we tackled South Dakota, leaving Mt. Rushmore, Custer State Park, the Badlands, and Sturgis in our wake. This year we are off to the Virginias...

The East will not know what hit them.

I am sure I will return with many a funny story about Captain Destruction and the rest of the superhero gang!

Until then, eat well, train smart, and recover with a vengeance!

So Yeah...

2009-07-28T20:13:00.005-05:00

Apparently I did this HIM thing over a week ago and then dropped off the face of the blogging planet.

Frankly, I am still trying to wrap my mind around the whole thing…

Oh, and my friend M let the cat out of the bag about my results.

No, don’t think at all I am mad at her about doing it.

Frankly, had she not posted my time you would have probably had to do some significant research to pull my results up on Athlinks –

Admit it we have all tried to cyberspy on fellow blogger (Well, maybe, just me)

I have learned many lessons from my first Half Iron Man and I would be remiss if I would not pass along my new found wisdom with you.

1. Going to my husband’s work party the night before entitled “RIBFEST” in which you have to sample and vote on your favorite BBQ rib (13 entries in all plus appetizers and desserts) – BAD IDEA

2. Driving the bike course prior to the race because you were too chicken to ride it when the road was not closed – GOOD IDEA

3. at 8:30 at night after leaving “RIBFEST” – BAD IDEA

4. Returning at home at 10:30 p.m. to finish packing No I Son’s bags for camp – BAD IDEA

5. Using Garmin to tell you how to get to race at 4:30 in the morning so you don't even have to be awake while you are driving-- GOOD IDEA

6. Spray on Sunscreen and body marking – BAD IDEA

7. Trolling for friends in transition so the butterflies don’t grow into dragons – GOOD IDEA

8. Shallow Lake Michigan Swim (64 degrees) – BAD IDEA

9. Blue Gatorade, Blue Sportsbeans, Chocolate Powerbar on Bike – BAD IDEA

10. Race Flats and Yanks – GOOD IDEA

My race exceeded my expectations. I calculated and recalculated my expected results using all of the gadgetry that I could find on the web.

Never did I anticipate this story's ending.

The swim was cold, shallow, and short. I also swam *$%^ty (add another s word in here that is far from polite). It was so cold that I could not put my face in the water. I kept on breast stroking because the water made my ear hurt (note to self ear plugs next time). I finally got into a rhythm about 500 from the end. Although my time was decent, it was not the swim I am capable of. My goal for my next HIM (September 6th) is to actually swim (not breast-crawl) and although my swim time may increase (due to the SOR course being short), I will not mind as I will know that I will have done my best – which is not a statement I can currently make about this race’s swim.

The bike.... Let's just say I am a runner and not a biker. I have been working on this and some changes* have already been made. BUT, I can honestly say I followed my plan and probably could have pushed myself a little bit more (I was really concerned about saving my legs for the run). I followed my nutrition and was blessed with cool and cloudy weather. I almost beat my ultimate goal (I went over by 1 minute and 58 seconds) There are a lot of super speedy bike riders out there and one day I hope to be able to hang three bicycle lengths behind them (Must be draft legal of course).

Overjoyed to have completed the bike, I was undaunted by the two large hills I had been warned about; hills that you have to run up twice, right at the beginning of the two loop course. My plan was to run "old school", meaning just run, no HR, no pace, no strategy, just run. Right out of transition, running up the first hill, my plan was slightly derailed, every footstep reminded me how much I needed to go to the bathroom. I initially thought I could stick it out, but my mind was changed the minute I saw a runner dart off the path and run down the dune to the port o potties at the swim start. Immediately, my bladder decided that was the plan for us as well. Let me tell you, I have never felt such relief.

Because I was significantly lighter, my steps were lighter as well. As I began running again, I realized that I was actually going to complete this race. I began to tear up a little. I brought my emotions back in check and concentrated on running my race at my pace. It would have been so easy to go fast or slow, depending my current company. I was passed by a few and restrained myself from falling into pace with them for I did not know which lap they were on. I passed many and resisted the urge to slow up a bit and take a breather as I had not looked at my watch and did not know how long I had been racing.

At a little over mile ten, I finally had the courage to look at my watch and I saw 5 hours and some change. Even in my emotional state, I had the wherewith all to realize that I had less than three miles to go and 40+ minutes to make my penultimate goal. I am sure my fellow athletes thought I was crazy when I said aloud "I like those odds". I continued my pace, floating to the finish line, fighting back the tears.

I felt such joy crossing the finish line. I can honestly say that I have never worked as hard in a race as I did that day. I also realized that I really underestimate myself -- I mean really underestimate. I raced well and learned many things that will undoubtedly help me as a train my next HIM on September 6th and for my race goals in the future (IM Moo 2011 -- anyone?)

*I am a true believer of rewarding yourself for good work. And, if you remember my comment that I need to work on my biking and steps already have been made.

Meet Belle (as in Silver Belle):

Now, I just need to get my legs to produce speeds that won't insult this beauty!

Where there's smoke....

2009-07-13T21:11:00.014-05:00

What a week! What a weekend!

This past week I spent three hours each morning entertaining my three year old as my children were learning to swim. There are few non-negotiables in my house. Learning to swim is one of said items. My three oldest children have been involved in swim lessons since they were three years old. (I never did the mommy and me program. I don’t need that kind of bonding with my kids)

Each summer our swim program does a two week intensive swim camp. The first couple years we participated it was not so bad. Those would be the years that Captain Destruction did not know how to move on his own. After he started terrorizing – oops I mean moving on his own, swim camp/lesson has turned into my own little personal ….

Well, there are so many things and places he can hurt himself, it is an aerobic workout every time we are there. There are bleachers he can roll down. There are concrete stairs he can roll down. There are construction barriers that he can break down. Vending machines he can vandalize. Bathrooms he can flood. Potential hazards are everywhere. I guess it is unreasonable to expect the university where swim lessons are held to Captain-proof their facility, but after Thursday maybe they will start.

On Thursday, Captain Destruction did the naughtiest of naughties and I really am not exaggerating. If there were a hierarchy of naughty things you are able to do, what he did would be on the top.

I know what you are thinking, he’s only three what deviousness is he capable of? Well, you need to remember this incident. And then there was the time when he called 911 at the tender age of 18 mos. Oh, and remember when he did this?

I would rather have a repeat of all of those incidents over and over like the movie “Groundhog Day” if it would erase the events of Thursday.

Thursday, is the day Captain Destruction pulled the fire alarm…. Emptying the pool of the swimmers, parents, and instructors (about 100 people in all)… emptying the building of all of the college faculty and staff…bringing the bicycle campus police to the building in record speed.

Now, if it were not embarrassing enough that it was my child that caused this chaos, he pulled the alarm during the girls’ swim lessons, which are first, which left me sitting with a restrained Captain on my lap for an hour and 10 minutes after the time he pulled the alarm, listening to parents and swimmers and swimmer siblings all trying to deduce who was capable of such deviousness.

Who knew the emotional torture for me was just beginning?

This weekend I swam for my friend in the Trek triathlon. In previous years, this past weekend was always the Danskin triathlon. The Trek weekend procedures mirrored Danskin’s. Saturday was packet pick-up and bike racking. Sunday morning was the race. Because the relay was not my A race (that is in 6 days YIKES!), I needed to train. I had a three hour ride on tap so I drove to the packet pickup area with my bike and decided to start my ride there so I could meet my friend when packet pickup opened.

I started out by riding the bike route for the next day’s race. I have done the race several times when it was the Danskin and liked the bike course. About 25 minutes into my ride, my bike felt a little squirrely. I stopped and looked at the back tire (the one that always flats on my rides) and was surprised to see that it was still inflated. I started off again only to feel less in control of the bike and then spotted the problem. It was indeed a flat, but it was the front tire.

Now, I know how to change a tire. I have had to do it enough as I seem to flat all the time. Just because you do something all the time, it does not mean that you are good at it or quick about it (like swimming, biking, and running for instance). It took me F.O.R.E.V.E.R. to get the tube out of the tire. So long in fact that a man who lived in a house near where I decided to change my flat came out to make sure I was okay.

Yup. I was that slow.

Anyway, I did get it changed (without help thankyouverymuch) and 30 minutes later I was on my way. (Yes I said three-oh minutes). I rode just a little faster once I got going to let off some pent up steam.

My delay caused me to arrive back at packet pick up 5 minutes late and the lines were already out of hand – 5 minutes after the doors opened. I guess everybody had the same idea of ‘in-out-no one gets hurt”.

We wait in line after line and finally after a 30+ minute wait we were at the t-shirt table. At first, the kind volunteer did not want to give me a shirt. My friend showed her the slip of paper that said we were entitled to as many goodies as relay participants, but that wasn’t good enough. The volunteer had to ask her station supervisor. Finally, I was given permission to get a shirt and I was told that only size large on up were left and I am certainly not a large. I thought “How could this be? I know my friend asked my shirt size and checked the appropriate box upon registering. How can they not have my size when we arrived to the table less than one hour from the opening of packet pick up?” A little miffed, I took the large and decided that I could use it for biking and perhaps for sleeping and I guess that was okay.

Next, I decided that I would take a quick look at Trek triathlon bikes while my friend looked at the other merchant booths in the area. I wanted to size up a WSD to see if it would really be a better fit and more comfortable to ride. Lately, I have found after a 4 hour ride, I do not really like my bike so much. As I wandered into the booth, I expected it to be like a used car lot – you know vultures circling and a lot of talking about what it would take to get me to buy today.

I was wrong.

I asked a question about sizing hoping it would begin a dialog. I received a one word answer and the big brush off. Apparently, Trek is not hurting too much in this economy. (More miffed)

We leave the vendor area and go to rack my friend’s bike. She had brought her daughter with her for the festivities as she is participating in a kid’s triathlon in mid-August. My friend thought it would be a good lesson on how to rack and talk about racking location, finding your path to all of the entrances and exits, setting up a transition area – kind of a dress rehearsal for her real thing. As we are about to enter the bike racking area, we were told that children were not allowed in transition. NO EXCEPTIONS. So, I sat outside of the area with her daughter as my friend racked her bike. Now, this situation was not so bad as I could go in as soon as my friend came out, but a situation with children that was much worse occurred while I was awaiting my friend’s return.

Another athlete came to rack her bike and she had all four of her children with her as her husband worked on Saturdays. The children ranged from 8 to about 3. The older three children followed directions and waited along the transitions fence. The three year old started to wail, so the mom/athlete began to carry him in and she was told that the sobbing three year old could not be carried into the transition area that he needed to wait outside.

This broke my heart and made smoke come out of my ears simultaneously. Logically, I understand that the volunteers were enforcing the rules which were created to keep all of the athletes’ belongings, particularly their bikes, safe. I also know that these women only triathlon series were created to remove some of the roadblocks to women participating in competitive sports. If an athlete is not able to get childcare for the day before the event and must bring her children with her, not allowing children in the transition area, especially small children, is roadblock. There are hundreds, perhaps thousands of people milling about. The volunteers enforcing this rule indirectly states, “Your children’s safety is worth less than the bikes that are housed in this transition area.”

Additionally, I feel that children of women who train for these events have developed, or are developing a respect for the equipment. My children have learned at an early age that you do not touch Mommy’s bike. They also know that the “no touch” rule is doubly enforced with other people’s bikes.

If they were going to enforce the “No children in transition rule”, they owed it to the participants in this event to post the policy in the athlete instructions so no one would be caught off guard like my friend and this other athlete. We were there at 10, how many other moms did this happen to during the packet pickup/racking time which ended at 3:00?

Shockingly, race day came and went with out much incident. I felt that the swim course was not marked well as it was very difficult to sight. My friend improved on her bike time and run time from the previous year. It didn’t rain. It wasn’t burn your brains out hot and we all had a great time. It was rather anticlimactic considering my rage from the day before and my agony from the week.

I am hoping that all my difficulties from this past week and weekend equal nothing frustrating or debilitating for my race to come!

Hit Me

2009-07-07T13:47:00.010-05:00

This past Friday I had a startling revelation.

My race is almost here.

Now, you think I would be giddy, jumping for joy, doing cartwheels in the street with as much whining and complaining that I have done.

You would be wrong.

The panic alarm went off on Friday morning after my swim. Being the ultra-organized (read: type A, anal, obsessive/compulsive, control freak ~ you pick the adjective) person that I am, I write all of my swim workouts on index cards and double zip lock bag them to keep them tidy, dry, and accessible on the pool deck. At 5 a.m. in the morning I am not lucent enough to memorize a swim workout and to be honest, if I did have it memorized I would still like to study it between sets just to make I am clear about what I should do next (read: to rest more).

My swim on Friday was the last workout of the week, so I needed to switch the card. Imagine my shock when I realized that I only have TWO cards left.

Dealer…I need another card.

Physically, I can say with 93.08 % certainty that I have done all that I should to successfully complete my race. I have run over 13 miles several times (including two race situations), I have swam over 1.2 miles (including two 2 mile swims: one in a pool and one in open water), I have biked over 56 miles on several occasions. I have met all the distances in workouts. I have bricked long and short. The physical preparation is done.

Now, I need the extra cards(weeks) to work on my mental preparation.

I think that the mental preparation is the hardest. And if you are a faithful blog reader, you know that I have struggled with the mental aspect of the race throughout my training.

Last year, my race season was quite disappointing due to an injury. Of the 5 races I planned (4 sprint, one Olympic), I was only able to complete 1 and 2/3rds of my sprint races. This year, I have signed up to race two HIMs. Quite a big jump, eh? From sprints to HIMs?

I wasn’t thinking that when I signed up, now I am beginning to question my sanity.

In addition, I am always doubting my ability.

I have a friend who is my "go to" guy for biking. When I started to train for triathlons, I would always ask him questions about training, cadence, trainers, etc. I even sent him pictures of the bikes that I was looking to purchase for his opinion. In my head, I would be a decent rider if I could keep up with him. I finally got the confidence to ask him to ride with me a few weeks ago (as I have read that you learn to ride faster by riding with faster people), his response was met with a sigh of relief as he was unable to ride with me.

This past Sunday, I had my last long brick on tap. I decided to ride in his neighborhood as I was bored with my own and he had shared some of his favorite routes with me. As I was slowing down for a stop sign, my friend pulled along side me. I asked him if his intention was to hunt me down and humiliate me for he knew I was riding in his 'hood today. He replied that he wasn't and then I told him I was going to jump on his tire and draft him.

Not only did I draft him, I actually was able to ride along side him for a large part of the ride and because I was determined not to get dropped, I exceeded my highest mph ever on my bike.

Even today, I am not allowing myself to acknowledge my riding improvements as a tiny voice in my head keeps telling me that he was taking it easy on me~that he was not riding full tilt because he did not want to drop me.

Now, here is something else to make your head spin.

Yes, I doubt my abilities, but I also desire more than "just finishing" for all of my races. Based on my results from my indoor triathlons, half-marathon, and open water swim, I want to do well, certainly not podium, but mid-pack. I have my goals (A --the realistic time B-- Would really be nice, C -- the penultimate) posted in my training log.

What I need now is my game plan (and my poker face) for when I go over and the house wins.....

and that my friends is why I desire another card.

Well, that's a first

2009-06-30T20:29:00.020-05:00

This past week has been chock full of a bunch of “firsts” for me.

I had my first swim in my wetsuit which was not *sigh of relief* the…..
……same day I had my first open water swim race.

I also had my first really long ride…
….which was in conjunction with my first animal attack.

On Tuesday of last week, my friend offered to go with me to the beach so I could practice swimming in Lake Michigan in my wetsuit. I was overjoyed at her offer as I was quite nervous about swimming….

swimming in my wetsuit….

swimming in my wetsuit for two miles during a race….

swimming in the open water….

swimming in Lake Michigan….

If was related to open water swimming, I was nervous about it. Before she even had a chance to reflect upon what she had just offered, I jumped on it. She had just signed on to watch 8 children ages 9 and under at one of the Great (Drowning Risks) Lakes while I practiced wetsuit open water swimming.

We met at the beach got the children slathered in sunscreen and settled. Then, I set about the task of suiting up. If you ever want to have lots of people stare at you like you are an alien, go to a public beach on a 90 degree day and start pulling on your wetsuit. As I was struggling to get all the parts and pieces placed correctly in the suit, I noticed that I was garnering many weird looks. My friend lovingly confirmed that wasn’t just me being paranoid as she noticed that everyone was looking at me as well. She took a picture to document the absurdity. G.R.E.A.T.

As I waded in, I was pleasantly surprised. The water was not that cold. There were no dead things (or people) floating in it. It wasn’t too choppy. The suit was not too binding. As I started swimming parallel to the beach, I concentrated on staying smooth and focused on my stroke. I was amazed at the buoyancy of the suit and felt the additional effort on my arms. With each stroke, my unease was melting, revealing some strength and confidence beneath. I thought that I could not only complete my 2 mile race and my HIM swim, but complete them somewhat respectably!

Relieved, I trudged back to the beach (have you tried walking in water in a wetsuit? Now, that takes practice!), stripped off my suit, and profusely thanked my friend for her generosity. I, undoubtedly, will pay her back as I have convinced her to “tri” a sprint this year and she wants to practice some Lake Michigan open water swimming as well. Then, my new found confidence and I breathed a sigh of relief about the weekend’s race. We packed up the munchkins, making sure we had the (best behaved) right ones and headed home.

My confidence was not my confidant for long as it hit the road the night before my race, The Pleasant Prairie Open Water Challenge. This race was the cherry to my race insanity sundae called the month of June. Although I was just calling the race wetsuit practice, no amount of “talk” could camouflage the fact that it was indeed a race. A race that I, could quite possibly, end up DFL. The Open Water Challenge was a private swim team, master swim team, and open category race. Most of the participants, in my head, were serious swimmers and serious swimmers were fast--me, not so much, even in my wetsuit.

I have never started a race thinking that I could be last and I have to admit, I was having a hard time digesting the prospect. I arrived to the race early and watched all age group and master events. When it was time to suit up, I waded in the water and found a friend to help me. Talking to others helped, but I was still quite unsure of the outcome. Would confidence return? Or would I be buried under doubt once again. As the horn sounded and I trudged into the water (It was a beach start and I have that walking in the wetsuit problem), I mentally decided that whatever happens will happen, I just needed to stick with my mental game plan of settling into a rhythm and to focus on not panicking which would equal the breaststroke.

Once I stopped worrying about the outcome and started focusing on the process, everything fell into place. I was sighting well, I found some feet and drafted, I passed people; I got swam over and did not break my rhythm. I only breast stroked once on the final leg of the swim to remove a stick that was stuck to my face. Confidence returned and swam with me the entire way! It is always much nicer when you are racing with someone! As we crossed the mat together, I breathed a sign of relief as I now knew that confidence will be joining me for my swim during my HIM too as we have made a pact to always swim together!

YOU: Awww, what a nice inspiring story, but what about the animal attack?

ME: Are you all only about gore and drama? I thought you read my blog to be inspired! Not to laugh at me.

YOU: Yeah. Yeah. We are inspired. Now, get to the funny stuff.

ME: *hummph*

ME: FINE.

On, Friday of this past week I rode my final really long ride before my race. I decided to ride multiple loops of a regular ride so I would not get lost. As I was riding on the frontage road northbound next to I94 (the "I" if you are from WI), I heard a squawk and then felt a thump on the back of my helmet. My first reaction was "What the blazes was that?" Then, it happened again.

SQUAWK.

THUMP.

Then, I heard the squawk and I noticed the shadow starting to swoop down on me once again.

THUMP.

I was being attacked by a bird. My heart started racing and my cadence increased to rpms that I have never achieved in any of my training videos. I started flailing my left arm above my head and began screaming "SHOO, SHOO" at the top of my lungs.

Now, as you are imaging this scene, remember where I am riding -- on the frontage road next to the interstate.

Or, if you happened to be driving southbound from WI to IL, you would not have to imagine it as you were one of the 40 -50 drivers who were probably a witness to "When Avians Attack" Wisconsin version.

Thank goodness I have never seen Alfred Hitchcock's The Birds as I am sure that I would have soiled my pants. I almost did without the help of the movie.

I did finally out sprint the bird and stopped to gather my thoughts. As I was on the phone to Mr. Spie to letting him know that I was just attacked by a bird, a gentleman in a truck stopped and asked if I was okay. I told him what happened and he said that I was probably attacked by a red winged blackbird as they have attacked him in this area as well when he rides.

For the duration of my 4 hour ride, I avoided that frontage road like the plague. After my loops were complete, I headed for home but I had pass by the red-winged gatekeeper. My plan was to go as fast as I could and if I heard squawking, I was going to go faster. As I turned off the frontage road, my heart skipped a beat as I noticed a red winged blackbird perched upon the street sign watching me.

I can't be sure, but I think that I heard a bird like chuckle as I rode away.

When it rains....

2009-06-23T14:55:00.017-05:00

it really rains...

Well, summer finally stormed in. After months and months of winter and the absence of spring, I had become acclimated to 6o degree weather. This past weekend, Wisconsin greeted summer with two days of on again off again tornado warnings, severe thunderstorms, flash flooding, and 90 degree weather. There are so many unfortunates to summer's grand entrance.

1st unfortunate -- The first 90 degree humid day of the entire summer also was the day of my 10 mile race. So, I was not only battling legs that had not fully recovered from the MC200 relay, it was really, really hot and I was no way acclimated to such temperatures.

I am sure you are asking yourselves why I would undertake a race so soon after my relay. The 10 mile course almost mirrored the run course for my HIM next month (NEXT MONTH?????), and I,being a very good girl scout, always try to prepare for my races by knowing the swimbikerun courses.

2nd unfortunate -- I called home to give my race report and was greeting with a

"Guess what?"

Apparently, when the power goes out for 8 hours during severe thunder storms it equates to 8 inches of standing water in your basement. How nice! We had talked about refinishing the basement for several years and last year, I convinced Mr. Spie that the refinishing money would be better spent on redoing the kitchen. (So, at least I was right on that count.)

Thus far the casualties are several moved boxes (you know the ones that you move from house to house but never unpack), some outdated electronics (wet tape deck anyone?), two carseats, Mr. Spie's die cast car collection is now without most of their boxes, some of his power tools are working questionably, 1/3 of our Christmas decorations, hand-me down books from my mom, and a completely devasting loss (even more than the Christmas decorations as Mr. Spie pointed out that I stopped decorating for Christmas when we had children) was that my treadmill was downstairs -- in 8 inches of standing water.

My treadmill. The one that has seen me through marathons and triathlons. The treadmill which has protected me from thunderstorms and black ice, been with me for runs at dawn and runs at dusk. My steady, belt regulated training partner no longer works.

It actually is a non athlete's dream now as it still inclines and declines and the "cooling breeze" fan still runs. The belt does not turn, but mileage and calories are still counted. So essentially you could stand on the belt at an incline for 30 minutes not moving and still burn upwards of 400 calories or at least according to the treadmill.

3rd unfortunate -- because it is now finally warm, we are unsure how the furnace fared as it resides in the basement too. We are taking a wait and see approach to this as heat is no longer a pressing need. (At least until next week when fall arrives!)

Fear not, life is not all doom and gloom. I am in the highest intensity of my training and ticking off my workouts as they appear. I am trying not to look too far ahead or I will become overwhelmed and may freak out a little.

This weekend I have my 2 mile open water race -- or try to see if I can swim in a wetsuit as I like to call it. Nothing like testing out your wetsuit skills for the first time in an actual race. I am sure that you will all look forward that race report as it is sure to be hilarious and full of chafing!

Lastly, a couple weeks ago my youngest daughter Cheese celebrated her 5th birthday. We gave her the Target version of an American Girl doll. Now upon reflection all of our terrible luck has happened after the doll appeared.

Are we paranoid?

What do you think?

(Look at those evil eyes and the way she is reaching for the fire!)

(I believe at this point Cheese has realized the power she possesses, heh, heh, heh)

(Getting their next instructions from Little Miss Chuckie)

(Please send help as I think it is already too late for No. I Son!)

day at the track

2009-06-18T08:40:00.027-05:00

A photo essay by No I Son, age 9

When life gives you...

2009-06-14T14:33:00.011-05:00

My MC 200 relay was this weekend.

I had a fantastic time.

But, as with anything in life, it was not without drama and trauma.

The weekend was quite memorable for a variety of reasons. Unfortunately, this race really does not lend itself well to the traditional race report.....

(My first leg went rather well, but it was hot. I maintained a comfortable pace and made up some ground for the team. T1 was brutal as I was forced to sit an air conditioned van for 8 hours and snack on s'mores brownies, eat Subway, and shop for produce and bug spray at WalMart)

Rather than give you the play by play, I am going to give you a really brief synoposis of the race, in poetry form.

THE 2009 MC200

I ran A LOT.
The morning was hot.
Looks like we will be last -- I say NOT!

Middle of the night run
Not so fun
MP3 player dropped where you empty your bum.

Catnap in car
Too short as tires must hit the tar
Now we have to run how far?

Last leg in rain
This is insane!
Now, I am home and legs are in pain.

Since that is much shorter than my usual lengthy posts, I have decide that the balance is going to more for me than you (an electronic diary entry) as I am going to list all of the things that made me chuckle this weekend.

1. Using the TomTom as a flashlight to read the MapQuest map
2. Someone constantly texting --
3. Texting your finance to update your blog, (because tweeting that you've arrived is just too narcissistic.)
4. M and I (who are apparently idiots) being labeled the "Map Girls"
5. McDonalds sells ice.
6. McDonald's Power Meal #1
7. Twin take downs and unsportsman like body counts
8. Galloway and Fartleks -- use the word in a sentence and then you will own it
9. Imagine how fast you will be when you read a book about running
10. Running in Chuck Taylors is like running barefoot
11. Obsessive potty talk
12. Lost movie and TV references
13. Dropping my MP3 player in the port-o-potty.
14. Cat-eyes.

And lastly -- my favorite quote of the race -- "It's easy to pass them when they are walking."

I made friends, ran in some strange places, and laughed a LOT. The memories I have and the people I met will forever be cherished in my heart!

I cannot wait for next year!

Oh and if you were part of the Sandbagger team, feel free to post your favorite memories or quotes in the comment section!

It's about gnat time....

2009-06-08T17:48:00.015-05:00

... for a random rambling post.

Some of the thoughts buzzing in my head this past week have all been about time.

And not having any.

As my children attend parochial school, they are already out for summer vacation.

Already.

This sounds great. In theory, it sounds relaxing. No early wake up calls for them. Even though I still need to get up early to return before clock striking 7 so my worker bee, Mr. Spie, can get to the hive, I envisioned myself relaxing when I returned from my early morning workouts. I would be propping my feet up, sipping a smoothie, and reading blogs to my heart's content without remote control negotiations, providing suggestions about breakfast, and reminding littles that we are not a nudist colony.

As we have all learned “in theory” is not reality. This week (I did not have the opportunity to relax uninterrupted in the morning) my poor children did not have the opportunity to sleep in much at all this past week. On Monday, Cheese had speech. On Tuesday, I had physical therapy. On Wednesday, I had a morning planning meeting. On Thursday, speech again. On Friday, I think they were finally able to sleep in, but I believe they were up at 6:30.

It wasn’t just the morning either. The afternoons were taken up with gymnastics, taekwondo, and afternoon meetings.

Tuesday typified the craziness this past week. It was Cheese’s 5th birthday. In the morning, the kids were woken up and rushed to the babysitters for my PT appointment. Upon my return, we ate lunch and because Dad did not come home for lunch, Cheese could not open her birthday presents. We then waited for Dad to come home from work with enough time to open the presents before my oldest and Mr. Spie had to leave for the gym for taekwondo. It did not happen as Mr. Spie was “coming in hot” and I had to have my oldest ready to jump in the car the minute the tires hit the driveway. The girls, Captain Destruction, and I ate dinner and then had to leave the house at 8:00 p.m. to meet Mr. Spie and my oldest at the auto shop (35 minutes away) so we could drive them home after they dropped off the car for its Wednesday morning appointment. So, finally at 9:00 p.m., my very patient 5 year old got to open her birthday presents….

.......aaannnnndddd she promptly had to go to bed and couldn’t even play with them. I kept of saying over and over in my head, I hope she doesn’t remember this birthday, I hope she doesn’t remember this birthday; I hope she doesn’t remember this birthday. (So far we are batting 1/3 for "good" birthdays as my oldest daughter had the stomach flu for hers!)

This week has not been much better and we have been crawling with activity once again as I awoke my children this morning with the task of going grocery shopping. I actually was dreading this as you all know I do not have the best of luck in the grocery store. But, shopping with my four children does have its advantages. The greatest advantage being that most customers and store personnel look as my brood comes screaming down the aisle (literally and figuratively) and turn as quick as a wink on their heels and fly the other way. So needless to say, today we managed to shop without much to buzz about.

The countdown to my race is flying by and I have finally have felt some flutters! I had a personal best time in a swim time trial and I swam my longest continuous swim ever in preparation for an open water race that I insanely signed up for. In addition, on Saturday, I ran a cross country trail after a really windy and hilly ride (kind of a crazy brick I know) and even though I was plodding along at a snail's pace I was very excited about the additional workout that I gained from the terrain and intend to incorporate cross country running in my training to work on my core running strength.

During Sunday's long run, I encountered a flutter of another kind. It is gnat season where I live. It is one of the most annoying seasons ever! Why do gnats travel in clusters at head level? How many facial orifices can a gnat fly into? I am sure that I looked a bit odd as I ran sputtering gnats out of my mouth and waving my arms in front of my face to avert gnat inhalation. After my run, I looked like a windshield after a night drive in the country. I had gnats in my teeth, my eyes, stuck to my face, clinging to my shirt, dangling from my hat. I certainly was "gnatty".

I fear that tomorrow's workout will not bring the futterby butterfly feelings that I am craving, I am fairly sure the only flutter I will feel is the "danger Will Robinson" pit in my stomach, as I have decided to take my children with me to my track workout. My babysitter is out of town..... Here's my thought process... There is plenty of space for them to run around (the track and the inside of the track), it is fenced in, and there are bleachers to play on. The two olders really want to run on the track with me. What could possibly go wrong? (please don't answer as it is truly a rhetorical question)

Finally, I am a buzz with excitement as the week crawls towards one of the best flutters! The MC200 relay is this weekend! The Sandbagger swarm is heading toward Madison on Thursday. I don't know if I grew a strong enough exoskeleton to leave my children, but it is time for me to use my wings and fly off for an adventure on my own. I am looking forward to meeting some great people who share my passion for running and endurance sports. Hopefully, I will emerge from this experience with a few new friends to "bug" in the future!

Waiting to feel the flutter

2009-05-28T17:27:00.029-05:00

Now, before any one panics—no I am not pregnant.
(Please four is enough! Have you met Captain Destruction? It is a wonder my house is still standing. )

I just feel like I am pregnant.

I am expecting a triathlon.

My training and races this year have become very much like my pregnancies. In the beginning of the season, I was excited about the races I had chosen, the training plan I had selected, and was bursting at a seams to get started. And, similar to each of my pregnancies, I kept everything a secret just in case something happened and my races and training did not work out.

After a while, the cat got out of the bag. I could no longer keep my training and races a secret as plans were being made and I had to politely decline due to biking/swimming/running or purchases were being made and noticed. I did not flaunt my training, but others were aware of it and some began to cheer me on. I was still excited to train, eagerly anticipating the outcome.

Now, I am in the end of the second to the beginning of the third trimester of my triathlon training. Just like in the middle stages of my pregnancies where I had become accustomed to being pregnant, adjusted to the new body, limitations, and needs, I now have become adjusted to the routine. The novelties of new workouts have worn off and running, swimming, and biking have all become part of the checklist of my daily life:

aGo grocery shopping
aRide bike for 2 hours
aLoad dishwasher
aClean bathrooms
aSwim 1 mile time trial
aFold and put away laundry

Now, much unlike my pregnancies, I have not been getting that sweet reminder of the purpose of all this hard work. When your body is working hard baking a baby, you get some wonderful reminders of what the prize is at the end of the journey. There are kicks and punches, flutters and nudges from the little being within. If you are lucky (read: have a great insurance plan), you are even able to get occasional pictures of the reward as it grows and changes, providing concrete evidence of progress.

I have been desperately searching for those flutters in my training – a great ride, faster paces, making the “impossible” interval. Those little nudges have just not been there (or they have not been at all apparent to me).

I read triathlon blogs for entertainment and to be inspired. It seems, lately, that everyone I read has been feeling the flutter. They have had personal best runs, rides, or swims. They have been placing in their age groups, having epic training adventures in picturesque settings, or meeting and training with phenomenal friends. They have found cheerleaders in the most unexpected of places.

Me, lately. I got nothin'. I do most of my training alone. When I swim at the Y, there are no feet to catch. When I run, the only conversations I have are with myself as I create the lists of things I need to get done. There are no epic rides in picturesque settings. Usually, I have to stick close to home in case the babysitter calls. Today, I travelled the same uphill stretch of road twice (up and down) as a part of my hill workout. (I am sure that the AT&T workmen thought I was crazy). The only striking scene I noticed was the poor squirrel that didn’t make it across the road (which I had the pleasure of viewing four times).

Now, don’t get me wrong. I have had a few flutters since I began this year’s journey. I ran the ½ marathon with some fabulous friends and made my super secret far reaching time goal. However whatever amount of flutter that event gave me, the race seems weeks ago and my mind has converted that flutter to the speculation that it was just gas.

At some point, when I was pregnant with all of my children, I decided that I was done with being pregnant. I had enough of the huge belly, the food cravings and aversions, the continuous need to go the bathroom, and the inability to ever get comfortable. Many women experience this during the last months before their due date and my triathlon pregnancy is heading down the same path as my “A” race due date is a mere 7 weeks away. I am getting tired of the huge rides and runs, frustrated at my constant hunger and not being able to find the find the perfect food to satiate it, and I know that Mr. Spie no longer wants to be a message therapist.

Much like my overwhelming desire to meet the person I was growing and begin to parent and LOVE them, I just want to race and see the concrete evidence of my work. But, similar to pregnancy, I know there is some time left on the triathlon timer and my "A" game is not quite done.

I also know that sometimes a mood can be changed just by a few swift kicks to the ribs and I am sure that with a few friendly triathlon nudges, my mood will be lifted too!

In-tro-spec-shun

2009-05-23T09:42:00.030-05:00

Well, my solitary and confinement sentence has been served. I was released last night around 8:00 p.m. During my brief foray into communication lock down, I had plenty of time for "thinkun" and apparently I am not too deep because this is a sampling what I was pondering last week:

1. Door to door school fundraisers – Why can’t they sell what I want (or at least what I need at the time)? The other day a neighborhood child came to our door to selling candy bars to raise money for their high school band. I, being the incredibly mean person that I am (according to my husband), turned her down under the guise that I had no money. I truly didn’t. I only had $4.00 which was allotted towards hot lunch for my children for the next week. Even if I had money, I would not have purchased a candy bar. As a rule, I do not eat candy and although I do allow my children to have candy on occasion, I certainly would not purchase them a $4.00 candy bar as they would not savor it. The bar would be inhaled in a matter of seconds. I doubt that it would be tasted.

Cost per child per second of entertainment : $1.00

--and the sugar after effect is certainly not priceless.

Why can’t there be door to door sales of things I actually want: NUUN, Body Glide, Granola or some sort of nutrition bar? Or need (so I don’t have to take the unruly lot to the store): toilet paper, paper towels, Cool Whip, quart milk, loaf of bread, and a stick of butter…. Imagine door to door paper goods sales people – I would so be on top of that!

2. Why is it physically impossible for me to ride my bike with my mouth shut? I tried to ride with my mouth shut. It just doesn’t work.

3. On a related note, why does my nose run the minute I sit on my bike? It doesn’t just drip. It is a veritable faucet for my entire ride and stops immediately when I dismount the bike.

4. Are #2 and #3 related somehow?

5. Why was I panic stricken on Thursday during my bike ride when I realized that I was going to arrive home 10 minutes later than I told the babysitter? Although I am sure that it increased my MPH average, I was pedaling like I stole my bike and a pack of wild coyotes were chasing me. I am paying the babysitter to watch my children. They are going to get paid for the time I am late. Why do I feel beholden to a 13 year old?

6. Why, when I was buttering up myself for Thursday’s ride with Chamois Butter, did I feel like I was doing something morally wrong?

7. If I tested my treadmill to see if it was calibrated wrong, would it change they way I do any of my training? Would it just be an ego experiment?

8. How would I feel if it was actually calibrated correctly? Is ignorance (or believing in the tales I tell myself) truly bliss?

9. Why don't they make technical shirts or running/biking shorts with small terry cloth patches on the back so I have a very absorbent pad to wipe my sweat, drool (see #2), or nose drippies (#3) when I run or ride?

10. At what age do you become "okay" with public nudity?

At Y, I am very modest. All of my actions revolve around exposing as little flesh as possible. All of the older swimming ladies walk around completely nude, talk to each other nude, talk to me nude. I find myself uncomfortable for them. At what age do you stop clinging to the towel?

11. Can eating half of the loaf of banana bread count as a serving of fruits or vegetables for the day?

12. When did my sense of smell become so warped?

Recently, I passed by a woman in a store that was wearing Sunflowers perfume. I used to love that scent. Now, I found it a bit overpowering -- dare I say offensive. The other day when I was riding, I kept smelling something. The scent was following me. The scent was annoying me. I finally figured out that it was my sunscreen's "light and clean" scent (that, my friends, is up to interpretation). Now contrast this to the fact on more than one occasion I have run short of time and had to just "throw on some clothes and deodorant" after a 1.5 to 1.75 hour trainer ride and take my daughters to gymnastics. My scent, which I am positive is offensive to others, is unperceivable to me.

Now that Mr. Spie is home safe and sound, I have someone to discuss these important issues with. Once these are solved I am sure that the economy will turn around, our deficit will immediately decrease, the auto industry and banking industry will be saved, and it will be the end of global warming.

Well, probably not, but at least I will not have to all of my training indoors and that is one pressing problem solved in my book.

Solitary and Confinement

2009-05-15T18:10:00.032-05:00

On Friday, I began serving my sentence.

EIGHT days of Solitary and Confinement.

Mr. Spie left late Thursday night for a boy’s weekend piggy backed on a week long business trip.

He has left me to battle the natives...

ALL ALONE.

(and let me tell you the native are very restless.)

Nothing is lonelier than your significant other leaving for an extended walk-a-bout.

Now, I know what you are thinking…

Spie, you are not alone. You have four children. There is always someone there.

Yes, yes. It is true. I always have someone here, but there is a huge difference between conversation with an almost three year old and a conversation with an adult.

Recent conversations with my children are interwoven with a lack of logic which sometimes makes me question my sanity. For example, Captain Destruction decided that his shirt had “poop” on it and he had to change his whole outfit. (It didn’t, but don’t try to tell him anything different). He brought me his SWIM trunks (he may be a little swimwear obsessed) to help him put on. I was doing the dishes so I shook the soap off of my hands and put his SWIMSUIT on. He then chastised me for getting his SWIMSUIT wet and had to promptly remove it and find other clothes.

Would this happen with a grown up? Aside from the fact that I hope I never have to have a conversation about poop on a shirt and help said grown-up get their swimsuit on, an adult knows that swimsuits are made to be WET!

Conversation is further limited by content. What I want, nay what I NEED, to talk about and “get off my chest” is not very appropriate for my children as I spend the better part of my parenting trying to get my children to respect themselves and respect others. We talk about how we do not name call or tease. We respect other’s differences and appreciate others for what they are and their potential.

This past week I had to run to Wal-Mart to buy some supplies for Mr. Spie’s week long furlough. I loaded Captain Destruction into the basket part of the cart and was tootle-ing along merrily on my way. Until the big, bad Wal-Mart employee accosted me and said “We prefer that children sit down in the cart so they don’t topple over.” I politely replied that I understood, that CD was sitting, he just stood up, I would appreciate if he was sitting too, and oh, by the way, he is also three. Then, I turned and walked away.

(side note: This is not the first time nor the first store in which I have been approached by the cart police. I need to make a custom shirt that I will wear when I shop anywhere that there is a cart involved that states “Please do not approach me as I will not sue you if my child falls out of the cart. I take full responsibility for my child and his actions.” This will be the complement to my running shirt that states “Go ahead and hit me. I have the right of way and I need some more money for my race entry fees”)

Now, when I related that story to Mr. Spie it was not the above succinct, cleaned up version. It was peppered with mildly strong language and other disparaging things said about all the other people (the person who parks in the middle of the grocery store aisle, the person who coached the girl swimming in the lane next to me who told her to “do the same thing, but don’t let her(meaning me) beat you”, the driver that tried to run me off the road, the person who reacts inappropriately to my race results….. you know, the whole world) that added to my annoyance that day, week, month, etc. Now, it kind of would be counterproductive for me to admonish my kids for speaking ill of others and then turn around and spew the ugliness that oozes from me when I am annoyed.

So, essentially anything that I NEED to talk about is out. Other things I talk about, making my intervals, getting a new training pr, my minute per mile pace, the grocery list, the bills I paid, what I washed that was not clothes in the washer, the things that CD broke, frankly don’t interest my kids. I am sure that they don’t interest Mr. Spie, but he plays the "pretend to listen to Spie and feign interest" game pretty convincingly. So, while Mr. Spie is away, I am in communication lock down. Left alone to solitarily (is that even a word? –now I am starting to talk like my kids), subsequently internally, deal with my emotions and frustrations.

My chosen emotional outlet? Exercise…

Which leads to the second sentence which accompanies his stay-away-cation…

CONFINEMENT

There are no other responsible adults currently in the house (sometimes my being "responsible" is questioned at least by Wal-Mart employees), multiplied by the fact that all of my friends work outside of the home, squared by the fact that my husband and I are transplants (i.e. no relatives in the area) in the lovely state of Wisconsin, all adds up to….

Doing all of my training indoors this week.

Let that sink in.

I live in Wisconsin. We finally are experiencing this season called spring. I have spent the better part of 5 months riding the trainer and running on the treadmill. I have watched every show on HULU and have every lyric on my MP3 player memorized. I can tell you all the ”witty” dialog word for word on my Chris Carmichael training CDs. If blindfolded and dropped in my basement, I can identify the exact spot on the wall that I stare at on the treadmill by texture alone.

These past weeks, I have relished my outdoor runs and rides with the joy of a child eating a popsicle on a hot summer day and now I am in lock-down once again. It is like winter has returned, but not so much with the promise of presents and delicious baked goods.

Once I found out that Mr. Spie was leaving, negotiations were made. As I will not be able to swim while he is away because the Y that houses the pool has no childcare, I have been granted permission to swim during his brief home layover on Monday (he arrives sometime Monday morning and has to leave again early that afternoon) and I negotiated the hiring of a babysitter for two of my bike rides, one being a three hour ride.

I attempted a three hour ride during the winter on the trainer and it was not pretty. There was too many distractions, too much foul language on the movies I deemed entertaining enough to hold my interest for that length time, and too many demands made from the troops – who could not be bothered to ask the general (Mr. Spie) that was seated in the same room with them.

The thought of completing a three hour trainer ride without backup is pure insanity. Before the three hours were up there would be an uprising of gargantuan proportions which would be fueled by Lucky Charms and Toon Disney. The littles would be battling it out cage style to see who is the supreme screamer. The olders would be placing side bets and not breaking it up.

Not.Good.

As I add the hash marks to the aerobars marking down my sentence, I sincerely hope that the parole board takes pity on me and grants me an early pardon.

However, since that is not very likely, please send me a cake.

Not one with a file.

But one like this:

And enclose a responsible adult, capable of handling 4 children ages 9 and under.

Better yet, call my local Wal-Mart and see if "Captain Cart" is available.

Pictures of you, pictures of me

2009-05-08T16:32:00.023-05:00

Hung up on the wall for the world to see…

This week I have been hung up on images, preconceptions, and self perception.

Here’s a test:

Imagine in your mind’s eye: A stay at home mom with four kids ages 9 to 3 years old.

Now picture: A woman who volunteers for a Fine Arts organization, a parochial school, and teaches Sunday school.

What does female triathlete who is training upwards of 10 hours a week for races look like?

Did you picture the same person for every situation? Or did your preconceived notions change the appearance of the woman?

As you may have guessed, all of these statements apply to me.

Here are statements that I often hear:

Wow, you don’t look anything like what I expected.
You have four??? kids?
Triathlons. Wow, you do that?

You have run marathons? really?

These comments and preconceptions sometimes make me wonder, what am I supposed to look like?

All of this self reflection started with my ½ marathon and comments in the school parking lot this week.

During the ½ marathon, I felt fluid, like a gazelle. I did not feel stressed or strained. My pacing was spot on. I felt like I could run some more (not the whole 26.2, but I was not crawling towards the finish). In my mind, my appearance reflected my ease in the run. The race photos, however, presented a different story. I never like looking at myself in pictures anyway and race photos are notoriously harsh. I look strained and in pain, panting towards the finish looking for a place in the soft grass where I can collapse and rest for a while.

My mental picture did not match my outward appearance.

Thursday, in the school parking lot as I was picking up the olders, I was talking to some of the other moms. Captain Destruction started making his "notice me- pay attention to me" overtures so I opened the door to reveal a very dirty and disheveled CD. Dressed in shorts, shirt, dirt, and rain boots, he was all smiles. One of the moms commented that I was a "good mom" because I just let kids be kids.

I mulled over that comment as I drove home wondering if the fact that she knew me changed her picture of me.

At a different time, another parent joked that I just shattered her perfect "Martha Stewart" mom image of me the day that CD showed up wearing rain boots (yes, he really likes those rain boots) shorts, and a winter coat.

I contrasted these opinions against the unknown opinions of fellow parents at my daughter's gymnastics class. I have no relationship with any of those parents. In fact, I have only talked to one and have a strange history with another. (He is an ob/gyn and delivered my third child not a real comfortable be "social" situation) On Wednesday, gymnastic day, Captain Destruction’s outfit was a “learn to swim” long leg swimsuit complete with attached floaties. We got quite a few looks and comments from kids and parents.

What do you think those parents were thinking?

My guess is that they were not all thinking what a great parent I was. They probably ranged from “She’s got no control of that child” to “Wow, she must be at her wits end, poor woman” to “I guess that the laundry is not done yet”.

Other's mental assessments plus the outward appearance of my children, may have or may not have matched the real picture.

With each successive child, I have gotten better at not worrying about outside appearances and have limited my fretting about other's opinions, but it has not been an easy road to travel. It took me nine years to not be mortified at my children's outfits. I can assure you that with my first child, there would have been a wardrobe change if the swimsuit presented itself as the "outfit for the day". Nowadays, non matching shoes, creatively colorful outfits, and nonsensical combinations (i.e. Cheese often wears leggings, skirt, long sleeve shirt, short sleeve shirt, and a sweater. CD puts on everything backwards) are the norm.

Having children has upgraded my camera: not an external camera, but my internal camera. Each time I look at my children, whether they are covered in dirt or clean from the tub, dressed in crazy combinations or ready for church, all I see are beautiful individuals with limitless potential, who are full of joy and wonder. Their images are back lit by a glow of love, pride, and hope.

Not only does this camera take the best pictures, it also has amazing clarity and focus when I am out with the kids. It gives me the confidence to to chuckle at the comments and looks as the opinions of strangers lose their value and I become more secure and confident in what kind of parent I am.

Their cameras are NOT taking the pictures of my children that are hanging on my mental wall.

Now, the trick is to learn how to use that same camera when I take a pictures of me.

Woe is me

2009-05-03T16:32:00.012-05:00

Woefully negligent... That is what I have been. It has been a long time since I updated my blog. Frankly, I have no excuse other than I do not think my life has been that noteworthy.

Snoozeville.

Now that we are in May, I feel compelled to update my life and get back on track.

In order to catch everyone up, here are random bits about life in the past two plus weeks.

1. My physical therapist and I are currently on a one month "break". It wasn't that our relationship wasn't working, but I needed to work on myself before any more progress can be made in our relationship. I have fallen into a out of sight out of mind mentality. All of benefits from the relationship have eroded away as I have fallen into my bad habits once again.

(We took a break so I could work on strengthening my back in order to help the realignment of my shoulders. I have not been the best at regularly doing my exercises and as a consequence my shoulder is aching more lately causing me to do strange things in my positioning and posturing to protect myself from the hurt, reeling me backwards in the progress that I have made so far)

2. A slumber party for six 9 (ish) year old boys is NOT a good idea.

(Never count on people not showing up or staying because then they will stay. The breaking point was at 1:17 a.m. when I heard one hoodlum say to another "Let's shine our flashlight in his face and see if he is really asleep" I lost it and went into complete M2 (mean mommy) mode. I slept in the doorway of the room chastising any noise, keeping vigil until all of the boys were finally asleep. At 2 a.m., I crawled back to my own bed and awaited the 5:38 alarm to swim and complete a 10 mile run prior to my 1/2 marathon.)

3. 10 mile runs are not recommended after only 3 hours of sleep.

(It was supposed to be a tempo run. After the rain kept starting and stopping, the wind almost blew me to Kansas, and the fatigue set in from lack of sleep, I decided to just run it, and not worry about pace. Ironically, my pace improved after I decided not to worry about it... and the rain never started again.)

4. I had a fantastic 1/2 marathon run. Not only did I meet my super-secret time goal, (admit it we all have those) I beat my faux- rivals!

(There are two local women who complete and win (overall or age group) all of the triathlons they enter. I have been in awe of the athleticism for years and thought I would never ever be in their league. As I was over analyzing my race results, I noticed that I placed higher in the 1/2 than those women. In my head I know they were probably told to treat it like a training run and not race or go all out, but I still am going to stick those feathers in my cap and call it macaroni)

5. My first reaction on my time and pace upon the completion of my race was "Wow, I sure am a slacker when it comes to my weekly workouts!"

(During my runs, I congratulate myself on maintaining paces that are :40 sec. per mile slower than my race pace thinking that I am really going fast. During my last indoor triathlon, I pulled out a hundred average that was more like a recent 75 interval. I totally need to train with others.)

6. Even better than my stellar race was meeting my blogger friend M, face to face, as well as her very devoted fiance, and cheer her on to her 1/2 marathon PR. Then.....THEN...THEN if the day could not ROCK even more, they came over with some other of my friends that ran the 1/2 and we continued the work-out concentrating on our abs!

(We stretched out our bellies with too much food and gave ourselves side stitches from the frivolity of the conversation. Maybe we were a bit loopy from all of the endorphins, but who is to say really?)

7. All bets have been off this past week, okay month, on eating.

(The peak of bad eating was the 8 chocolate chip cookie lunch with the brownie batter chaser. Quite tasty. Not very GI friendly)

8. The best way to cap off a month of bad eating is throwing an after party after your 1/2 marathon.

(Can you say s'mores brownies, french onion dip, and the balance of chocolate chip cookies? -Carb-o- licious!)

9. A short brick is a llllllloooooonnnnnnnggggggggg brick the day after a 1/2 marathon.

(The bike ride was my second outdoor ride since October. What is this wind thing and how can I turn it off?)

10. I need to remember to use sunscreen, tasty bug count for the year is one, and I sooo need sunglasses or Lasik.

As school winds down and my training ramps up, I am sure that I will have more amusing anecdotes to share and my posts will become more regular --or I could just be writing what I think everyone wants to hear and I once again I will become a huge slacker...

I guess we all will have to wait and see.

I need some hocus pocus and some focus

2009-04-10T19:03:00.017-05:00

Our house has been hexed and I need some magic to turn our luck around.

A week ago, we learned that our credit card number had been stolen and used to make several fraudulent Internet purchases. I was alerted to this problem when my credit card was denied trying to make a purchase at WalMart. (It was a first for me, I am sure that it was the millionth time for them. I was more mystified than embarrassed...)

The credit card thief went on a little shopping spree for us which was very thoughtful. He/she purchased Internet/cable/phone service for us (from the same provider we already have), set us up with some system cleansing vitamins (a subscription nonetheless), and proceeded to set up their own account at an online gaming service. I spent several hours convincing customer service reps that these were not my purchases, nor my husband's, nor anyone else in the house (although I could not speak for the cat and although Captain Destruction is very capable of this kind of deviousness, he does not have access to our credit cards for just this reason!)

If things could not get any better, our septic system overflowed and failed. Just a little gross if you ask me. Apparently, it is not a good idea to go 6+ years with 6+ people in the house without having it pumped.

Next, our washer suffered a debilitating, but fortunately not fatal injury. A new part needs to be ordered because the band aid fix will only last so long.

We are now at 3+ nails in the front passenger tire of the my vehicle. Two have been removed. One is still in there just waiting to cause catastrophic failure.

Today, I spent 50 minutes wait time on hold (after being told it would only be 10 minutes) to fix a problem with I-Pass and our alleged failure to pay three tolls in the state of Illinois, one from 2007. Apparently, they were not able to cross reference our license plate to our I-Pass account as the customer service representative that I gave our new WI licence plate number to transposed the numbers upon entering them.

Oh, I almost forgot, this morning Captain Destruction and the Cheese flipped my oldest son's birthday cake onto the kitchen floor today, top side down. This was after Captain Destruction had licked a large portion of the frosting off.

My training has not been spot on either.

Due to some scheduling conflicts and a scheduled 4+ hour power outage while our electricity was being "upgraded", I had to run at night this past Wednesday. I left about 7:30 p.m. for my 45 minute run. I run in my neighborhood which is rather secluded, not much drive through traffic. I wore a head lamp so I would be visible and as always, I ran on the white line facing traffic. I was almost done as it became nightfall. Upon my return home, I had a run in with two vehicles.

The first was a truck flashing his brights several times as he approached me. I was unsure what the purpose of this action was. Did he want me to dive into the drainage ditch? There is little to no shoulder in my neighborhood and we have no sidewalks. There was no traffic on the other side of the road, so crossing over into the other lane of traffic to safely pass me was no problem. His actions only served to blind me, making it more likely for me to "stumble" into the path of his vehicle.

Then to add the cherry to the inconsiderate sundae I was just served, the car that followed behind the truck, lined up on me and gunned it, shifting over to the other lane just in the nick of time. I returned home furious, exclaiming that jerks like those two drivers was the reason why I run at 5 in the morning. Those types of drivers are still hungover in bed at that hour!

In addition to vehicular chicken, my training has been compromised by my physical therapy. I had my fourth session on Tuesday, and it brought tears to my eyes. I know that it has been beneficial, but this week my shoulder has revolted. The story I have been telling myself is that the muscles are finally realizing that they have been slacking and now that I have been trying to get them to fulfill their responsibilities they are throwing temper tantrums like my children. Whatever the reason really is, on Wednesday I could not even do my physical therapy exercises let alone swim as my shoulder ached and felt as if it was swollen. I have not swam since Monday and I am actually going to try it on Saturday and see what happens.

The shoulder has not only impacted my swimming, but has made my running slightly uncomfortable and it was very difficult to get comfortable on my long trainer ride.

Despite not making all of my workouts, I have been eating like I am training 24/7. I have broken almost every nutrition goal I had set for the past couple months. I know that my workout time and calorie expenditure is increasing, but my goodness, I have no self control. I can eat a balanced dinner and be hungry 45 minutes later and eat two serving of chocolate ice cream with toppings. I can eat cereal with milk at any time and anything sweet (with the exception of candy -- have not broken that one yet!) is consumed in the matter of seconds.

I really need to focus on eating smaller portions more often and include some more "healthy fat" in my diet. When I look at what I eat, I tend to gravitate to low fat/fat free foods which perhaps explains some of my incurable hunger. Today is not a fat free day, however, as it is my oldest son's faux-birthday* and I ate the balance of the frosting that remained after I re-frosted the cake and we went out to Red Robin for dinner.

I hope by clearing my mind, I will also be clearing the air and the black cloud of ugliness that is residing in our house will be gone! I hope that it does not visit you next!

*Faux-birthday: my son's actual birthday is on Easter this year. We are going down to my in-laws for Easter and a birthday celebration, but not only his. We will be celebrating his 9th and the birthdays of two of his cousins, one who is turning 3 and one who is turning one. Guess who will be getting most of the attention? Fairly sure that three cakes are not going to be made and the nine year old will not be the center of attention. I felt bad that 1) his birthday fell on Easter 2)he had to share his actual birthday with two others and 3)he never really has fun at Grandma's because he is the only boy other than Captain Destruction and we all know that Captain Destruction is always busy with his superhero duties. In order to make my son's birthday special we decide that today would be his faux-birthday complete with presents and cake.

the real meaning of PT

2009-03-26T17:26:00.004-05:00

I guess in the back of my head I always knew this, but this week's PT session really cemented the true definition of PT -- Pain and Torture.

Is it really a bad sign when your Physical Therapist is kneading (oops I mean massaging ) your arm trying and hits a rock hard muscles and says "Oh, that's not good"?

Let me tell you, no amount of Edy's Loaded Chocolate Peanut Butter Cup ice cream (5 servings) could melt away the pain from Tuesday's session.

My next session is on Thursday. Good thing I go grocery shopping on Monday. I'm almost out of my pain medication.

I guess I kneaded this....

2009-03-21T18:54:00.012-05:00

This past Tuesday I had my first appointment with my Physical Therapist for my “swimmers slouch”. After a brief conversation as to the reasons for my visit, problems/pain that I have been experiencing, the PT asked me to do several simple tasks such as look up at the ceiling and bend backwards. At the conclusion of the tasks he stated, “Yeah, you are going to need several visits”.

My therapy then officially started with the reasons why this happened. He suggested that in addition to swimming competitively, a sure fire way to get "swimmers slouch", I may have a mild case of scoliosis, having a curvier front to back S than I should. The therapist outlined what the first course of treatment will be. Then treatment began, I laid on my front on the table and had my back/shoulders kneaded as if it were bread dough for a very long time and then I flipped and had my pectoral muscles and some muscles that are in my armpit (very technical I know. Thank goodness I was wearing deodorant that day.) kneaded for a very long time as well. There were two occasions in which tears were in my eyes, but all in all I think I sucked it up fairly well.

After the kneading was done, the physical therapist gave me some daily exercises. I do bridges to activate my muscles. Next I drape myself over a rolled towel with arms overhead. I stretch on the wall and then I do the most difficult and humbling exercise of all. I do a “wall sit” and make a snow angel on the wall. The purpose of the exercise is to re-teach my shoulder/back muscles how they should move. I am fatigued after 6-8 movements and achy after my set of 5. It is quite humbling to be beat up by a wall angle on the same day that I rode 25 miles and ran 7. After the kneading and the humbling, I had electrodes attached to my weak back and shoulder muscles and they were stimulated for 15 minutes. When I left, I felt like I had swam 10, 000, 000, 000, 000 meters. The drive home was a bit of challenge!

I have appointments weekly now and I faithfully do my daily exercises as I know that it will eventually get better and I will most likely reap some benefits in my training from finally being properly positioned. Even if it just not being in pain, I’ll take it!

On the training front, I have a ½ marathon coming up the first weekend in May and I am super excited about it. I have several friends running in it and several friends coming to cheer me on. I have put my husband up to giving a protein/carbo loading party afterward. Hopefully, it will be warm enough to grill. I have not yet decided on my goal for the race. I have never done a ½ , so any result will be a PR. I am leaning towards going all out as my next race is not until the middle of June (plenty of time to recover) and an all out result will give me some ideas as to what to reasonably expect for my two HIMs.

Whatever my decision, I know that I will have fun because I will be running with, cheered for, and surrounded by family and friends! (and we give killer after parties!)

putting me through my paces

2009-03-13T11:05:00.018-05:00

Throughout my running career (running for fitness, running for cross training, running for training for marathons and triathlons) I have had, at best, two running speeds – normal pace and fast. Although the training plans for my marathons/triathlons indicated different running paces, I generally ignored them or half- heartedly attempted to adhere to them within a run always ending up at either my normal pace or doing sprints.

Last year, I was sidelined most of the season due to a foot injury. As a result of the injury, I have become very conscientious about running: not doing too much interval training, utilizing recovery running, and listening to my foot and taking a day off when necessary. This caution has extended itself into actually following the assigned paces in my training plan.

The training plan for my HIM has several types of runs including foundation runs, tempo runs, long runs, tempo runs with fartleks, and tempo runs with striders. In an attempt to find appropriate minute per mile paces for these runs, I hit the Internet. One site (McMillan Running) lists paces for recovery jogs, long runs, recovery runs, steady state runs, tempo runs, tempo intervals, speed workouts, and sprint workouts. Much to my dismay, only two of the terms, tempo run and long run, overlap. In search of the elusive foundation run pace, I visit the Runner’s World website and find minute per mile paces for easy runs, tempo runs, VO2 max runs, speed workouts, long runs, and suggested 800 speeds. Once again there is no foundation run.

Although, I had no pace for the foundation run determined yet, I did have ranges for my long run earlier in the week. Committed to follow the correct pacing, I set the treadmill for the correct mph for my 10 mile long run and ran really, really slow for a really, really long time. As my time on my treadmill lengthened, I began to wonder what other things I would be able to do while doing treadmill long runs. Could I fold laundry? Can I catch up on blogs? Can I write my blog? Could I read magazines? Correct homework? I was having a hard time at keeping my mind on my run as I was not mentally taxed by my pace or intervals. I wasn’t wishing time to go by quicker because I was physically taxed. I was wishing time would go by quicker because I was bored. I could have kept at that pace for much longer than my assigned mileage. (Yes, I know that is the point of that pace).

Because my brain was able to do other things, I decided to rename some types of runs, so I can get a better handle on the correct paces for me.

Run Paces as defined by a rather bored Spie

Long Run – the multitasking run. Go ahead, fold laundry. Read. Correct Homework. You’ll be fine. This is almost like walking.

Steady State Run – This is more like it. It is what running used to be.

Tempo Runs – I guess I can handle this pace as long as I don’t have to do too many miles.

Speed Workouts – I think that I will throw up if this goes on much longer.

Sprint Workouts – I just threw up.

Now, that I have these paces firmly embedded in my mind, I know that I will do a better job of trying to stay on pace.... except during the elusive foundation run*.

(*Foundation run defined in my plan as a continuous run at moderate aerobic intensity. Because I have devoted far too much time to researching the appropriate pace for this run, I am renaming it Steady State run and calling it a day.)

bad math

2009-03-03T15:56:00.019-06:00

PLUS

IS BAD NEWS.

In my house, quiet is never good. Vaseline is very difficult to remove from bedding, furniture, carpet, and clothing.

Now for an overdue blog update.

My triathlon clinic was really interesting. During the swim portion, they analyzed my stroke and gave me some pointers to enable me to have a stronger swim. I needed to get my hand more under my torso during pull portion. After every one's analysis, we did a lot of drills - a lot of one armed drills.

The run portion was the most informative. The first part of the run clinic I met with a cross country coach who instructed us on fluid stretching, plyometrics (Have you every seen a bunch of grown adults skip backwards? It is quite funny!), and static stretching. He also had a ton of FUN(?) therapy stretching tools such as foam rollers, the STICK, a BOB, and many straps and bands.

The second part of the run portion was a gate analysis and specific drills to practice to improve the speed and efficiency of your run. This is the part of the workshop that was startling to me. We were to run on the treadmill and wait for Lauren (pro-triathlete and coach) to come analyze us. I was last and was observed after 35 minutes of running on the treadmill. She apologize for getting to me so late, but frankly, I would prefer to be watched when I am tired. That is when my bad habits always show up. I was given a few pointers such as to try to run quieter on the treadmill and to turn my left thumb up. Then she asks me to get off the treadmill so she can talk to me about something not directly related to running, but she really needs to bring it up. Being the people pleaser that I am, my first thought was "My gosh, what did I do?". She then indicates that she is a trained physical therapist and is very concerned about my posture.

I used to competitively swim in college and as a result I have the swimmers slouch (a muscular imbalance in which my pectoral muscles are so tight that they never release and cannot fire properly and my back muscles are stretched to the max, hardly touching and communicating). I was aware of my problem prior to her bringing it up and had talked to my husband about PT or massage or something as I always have shoulder pain (Always as in every day. Exercise or no exercise). What she proceeded to tell me next really alarmed me. She indicated that if I do not take the time to correct my problem soon, it will result in bone loss and I will eventually become one of those caved in old ladies that look like their chest could be used as a basket. This prophecy was enough for me to take action and now I am investigating physical therapy.

The last portion of the clinic was a two hour spin clinic which was a compilation of suggested drills, cadence work, and question and answer session while exercising.

All in all, including posture prophecy, the workshop was very informative. I did achieve most of my goals (Goals 1-3 were met), but I did not make a triathlon training friend. Unfortunately, the other workshops that were to be offered are cancelled as Lauren is training for IM Brazil and will be quite busy in the upcoming months. I am a bit disappointed as I was most interested in the nutrition workshop.

Finally, I need to make my March challenges public in order for me to have more accountability. Now that I no longer snack off my children's plates and eat dry cereal during the day,I am throwing down the gauntlet and attempting not to snack from the ingredients of dinner while I am preparing. This will as difficult as the children's plate snacking as I broke my resolution yesterday, but I have tasted (or not tasted) success once before and I know I can persevere!

Web of lies

2009-02-19T14:29:00.015-06:00

This past week, my youngest daughter, Cheese, and Captain Destruction (with her encouragement) created a web of yarn that ensnared four chairs, the trampoline (doesn't everyone have a trampoline in their living room?), two tables, a toy fire truck, my bike trainer, stretched over three rooms, and used up two skeins of yarn (over 200 yards of yarn). I initially had thought that Captain Destruction did this on his own as he is very capable and very devious. I promptly scolded him, informed him about his lack of treat after dinner, and had him sit on the stairs for his time out. Then, as I was unwinding and wondering how many calories an hour rage burned, I started to notice the workmanship of the web. The delicate placement of the yarn on the items and tight areas in which the yarn was woven demonstrated fine motor skills that were far beyond the fine motor skills of a two year old. My wheels started turning and calories from rage started a burnin' when I realized what actually had happened...

Cheese made the web and let Captain Destruction take the fall for it!

I promptly called Cheese and she confessed to the crime. Her punishment was to spend the rest of the afternoon in her room up until dinner and was to go bed promptly after dinner. For Cheese, time away from me is a fate worst than death!!!

Other than my little spiders, things around her have fallen into a loud routine. Training is going well, only a few more weeks of making it up as a go along until I actually start a plan. Things will get a little shaken up this weekend however as signed up for a triathlon training clinic. The clinic is focusing on HIM and IM distances. Sunday's session is the second session. I missed the first one about choosing/creating a training plan.

Sunday's focus is "Technique - The First Building Block"

Here is the itinerary:

15 min - Introduction, explanation of importance of technique work
75 min - Swim - freestyle technique work in the pool
15 min - Changing time
60 min - Running form drills and discussion of good running form, short run
15 min - Changing time, set up bikes
120 min - Bike workout including technique drills

I am super excited about the information that I am going to gain from the clinic, but scared to death to go as I will not know a soul there. I am going to focus on my goals for the clinic and try to keep my fears and feeling at bay (i.e. mild social anxiety disorder).

Goals:

1. Gain valuable information on how to make me faster and/or more efficient in the swim, bike, run.

2. Get a good work out.

3. Receive semi-individualized instruction from a local professional triathlete and coach

4. Meet people (make (a) friend(s)?) that share same interest and possibly find a training partner or two (three hour bike rides are pretty lonely on your own).

There are two more sessions in the series that I hope to go to as well --Building a Strong Athlete -with the focus on strength training (ba-bing!! one of my weaknesses that I want to address) and Nutrition and Hydration Planning (something I totally need as I have raced most of my sprint distances and marathons on empty or fruit snacks!)

I will attempt to report after my session. I know it will only be positives and all of my goals will have been met.

I hope that your weekend will be a success as well.

There's a foul on the plate..

2009-02-10T13:09:00.006-06:00

As I become more embroiled in the “multi sport” lifestyle, I find myself gravitating towards certain things.

I search for leaner sources of protein such as ground turkey. I am buying more organic items. I have contemplated buying bison and almond butter. I eat more fruits and vegetables, and have the desire to do yoga in order to build core strength, promote flexibility, and prevent injury. I pour over my sport specific magazines and intently read various training books to see how they are different than the plans I am using. I am informally researching coaches and planning my seasons years out as I serious consider attempting an Ironman the year my youngest is in kindergarten.

I also avoid things.

I don’t drink soda. I try to avoid caffeine. I don’t eat chips, candy. I rarely partake in fried foods. I avoid "scary" food such as hot dogs, chicken nuggets, patties, fast food. I don’t stay up late.

I did not know all of the ramifications of such decisions. Sure, I am gaining strength and speed in training. I am able to rebound quicker from hard workouts. Yes, I know that I am not packing on the pounds during the hibernation months. But, my recent discovery is too much….even for me.

It all started going awry a few weeks ago when I made chocolate chip cookies for my in-laws visit. My FIL likes all courses of the meal, including dessert. Chocolate chip cookies were quick and easy and the dough is good (only in moderation – see a previous post). Not able to resist a cookie (or 10), I had a few. The evening the in laws arrived we went out to dinner to a buffet. My FIL loves a buffet. I ate conservatively: salad, baked potato with a little bit of chili, and some soft serve ice cream. All these I considered to be safe foods. Throughout the night, my pipes were cleaned out. Okay, I reasoned, it must be the chili.

The next day, I had more cookies (let’s be honest, my son and I finished off the cookies) and homemade lasagna for dinner. That night, the pipe cleaning occurred again. I rationalized that my problems were due to left over affects from the chili.

Fast forward a week. Mr. Spie was invited to a chili cook-off party on Saturday. Friday, being a good guest, I made S'mores brownies to bring. Brownie batter is good too and the brownies were delicious. I will just leave it at that. What do you think happened overnight again? Yup.. Roto Rooter came a knocking. This time I could not possibly blame the chili.

Now, I am aghast (or a gassed). Have I turned my body against baked goods? Could it be that I can no longer enjoy (within moderation) chocolate chip cookies, brownies, cake, apple crisp, pancakes???? (Yes, pancakes caused distress the other night.)

The scientific part of me wants to bake a few things (chocolate chip cookies and brownies) and test for distress. The rational part of me is saying that there must be some other explanation. Your body just doesn't decide to reject baked goods. The nutritionist/triathlete part of me is saying "WooHoo! Another temptation gone!"

What to do, what to do? Has anybody else ever experienced this? What did you do?

PSA

2009-02-06T09:28:00.008-06:00

Concerned about all members of the blogging community, I have decided to issue the following public service announcements.

PSA #1
Remember as a child when you watched a sitcom and someone put too much soap in the clothes washing machine and soap suds spilled out everywhere and you wondered if that really happened?

IT REALLY DOES.

PSA #2
If your two year old finds you and tells you that he "Put soap in the washing machine for you. Welcome!"

BE ALARMED. VERY ALARMED.

Cereal killer

2009-01-29T13:23:00.013-06:00

I have officially come up with my February lifestyle change challenge. I had tentatively planned to focus on strengthening my core three times a week, but this past week have brought to a head a much bigger problem of mine.

"Hello. My name is Spie and I am addicted to dry cereal. "

I snack on cereal morning, noon, and night. I guess that I am fortunate that I have somewhat healthy cereals in the house. I currently have been eating boxes of Frosted Mini Wheats like they are going out of style. The Golden Grahams were golden, golden, gone. I have banned Cinnamon Toast Crunch and this past month I realized that I cannot buy granola. (A half cup of granola packs as much calories as one whole cup of mini wheats -- who can eat just 1/2 cup of cereal? Certainly not me.)

So, in the month of February, be it resolved that I, Spie, will NOT snack on dry cereal during the day...light hours.... OH, all right. I, Spie, will not snack on dry cereal. Period.

In other news, I skipped my swim this morning. I participated in an indoor triathlon on Sunday and have been feeling tight and tired ever since. I decided that I have not been doing a good job listening to my body and so I slept in and tried some yoga this morning to loosen up some of the muscles. I felt there is no sense in pushing myself to the point of injury and fatigue during the month of January when my first event is several months away.

However, doing yoga made me realize that I am inflexible.

Right now, Mr. Spie is screaming out somewhere "I could have told you that".

I had difficulty sitting on the floor with my feet out in front of me. As I watched the lady in the On-Demand exercise video easily contort her body in half from a torturous pose called Plow Pose, I recognized that I need to work on my flexibility or as the intensity of my training increases the likelyhood of injury will increase as well. Hopefully, I will get a yoga dvd, mat, and some blocks (yes, I am that inflexible) for Valentines Day as I sent a blantent hint to Mr. Spie in the form of an internet link.

Perhaps the month of February will have to have two challenges.

Good thing that the month is only 28 days long.

Lessons Learned

2009-01-23T10:15:00.016-06:00

I have learned several things today that I would like to share with you.

1. I don't know if you can be too rich, I know that you can be too thin. I also can ATTEST that you can eat TOO MUCH chocolate chip cookie dough.... YUCK.

2. I get "geeked" up about weird things.

The prospect of possibly finding goggles that don't raccoon, the perfect water bottle, and this race. I am super excited to be asked to be part of a team and to run!

3. Participating in said race will be a test. -- Not a physical/stamina test, a mental test.

To be clear it's a try to get over being a "parenting control freak" test.

It will be the first time that I am away from my children (overnight)with the exception of giving birth to another child. (To give you an idea of how tight I have my apron tied, I begged and was released to go home 24 hours after the birth of my last child -- no 2 day hospital stay for me, no siree!!) There is no one that can parent my children as well as me. I am not saying that I am flawless, I think that I am marginal at best, but I KNOW that I LOVE them BETTER and MORE than anyone else can.

I am coping with the idea of the race fine now (we may need to revisit closer to the actual date) because I know that my husband will be there to parent -- My second in command, schooled in the Spie method of parenting, familiar enough with the house rules to know when they are broken, capable of feeding them the nutrition that they are accustomed to, etc.... He's not me, a fair substitute at best (joking!!!-maybe..), but am I still somewhat comfortable with it. After this test, we will see if I can cut the apron strings enough to have a grandparent parent for a weekend. (Right now the answer is still a resounding NO!)

4. I have little or no motivation to do my tasks that need to be done today. The in-laws will be here on Saturday for a weekend visit and my house is in shambles... and I am sitting here blogging, because I really do not want to clean. There is clean and then there is in-law clean and I cannot managed to rev myself up to tackle that task yet.

5. Finally, coaching/lessons may actually work...

I complained, maybe publicly --definitely to Mr. Spie, that I did not gain much from my recent swim class. The skills that were taught were beneficial, but they were small changes from my previous stroke. Nonetheless, being the academic pleaser that I am, even after my class was over, I continued to key in on and practice some of the tips that I thought would be the most beneficial. Today, at the end of my swim workout, I had planned to swim a 200 negative split. I decided to time it to check progress. I swam it at a comfortable pace, increasing speed on the last 25 (this was my negative split -- I was tired and the first time in the pool all week after my daughter's flu ravaged the entire family, including me) and whaddaya know??? I came in 3 seconds faster than my previous best, not sprinting/racing, or lets be honest really trying... WHO KNEW?

The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly.

2009-01-15T12:05:00.014-06:00

I know that I haven't updated for a while. I am sure that it is a grave disappointment to my 1 reader. However, I have a few moments now, so I am going to do a brief update. Basically I can categorize my thoughts today into three areas...

GOOD:
1. Today is my daughter's 7th birthday. Yea!

2. I talked myself into completing my 1.5 hour continuous run.

3. We are half-way through January. Only 3.5 more months of winter until Spring! (I live in WI and use a realistic seasonal calendar)

4. I made it 5 days thus far without snacking off my children's plates(see previous post). This is a huge accomplishment when you consider that last night my two year old left uneaten sirloin steak on his plate. (mmmm-steak)

BAD:
1. Today we woke up to -13 with a windchill of -30.

2. Because of the windchill, school was cancelled (back when I went to school that NEVER happened)... All of the urchins are home.

3. The birthday girl threw up this morning and promptly told me this is the WORST BIRTHDAY EVER!

4. I tend to agree with her because my plan was to shop for her presents while she was school, so as of right now, she has no birthday presents from her siblings or parents except for funderwear (fun underwear), but what kind of present is that?

UGLY:
1. She didn't make it to the bathroom.

2. It is currently -7 and feels like -26 -- enough said.

3. Tomorrow doesn't look any better. At 6 a.m. it is predicted to be
-8 and feel like -26. I am scheduled to get up and swim at the pool at 5 a.m and the kids may be home again.

4. I have an appointment to get my brows waxed on Saturday. I have never, ever, had this done. I am terrified that I will come out either looking like a scared clown or that this decision will cost me month after month due to upkeep. I think that I was possessed when I made the appointment.

I hope that your day is filled with more GOOD than BAD and UGLY and if you live somewhere warmer than 30 degrees, please wish some of that toasty weather my way!

If it takes 21 days to make a habit.....

2009-01-08T12:00:00.013-06:00

how many days does it take to break a habit?

These past few months, inspired by some blogs I read, I have given myself some 30 day challenges. Each month is a challenge that promotes a healthier lifestyle. I planned to carry over each challenge indefinitely each month.

In October, I gave up candy and chips. -- (check)

In November, I began to eat 5 fruits and vegetables a day in addition to continuing October's goal.-- (check)

In December, I gave myself a break and decided to just maintain October's and November's goal. (mostly check -- I missed one day of 5 fruits/veggies getting only 3 and I succumbed on two different occasions to peanut butter balls and truffles)

In January, I have given myself the goal of not snacking food off my children's plates.

I broke that January first at 10 a.m. when I was cutting Captain Destruction's waffles. The next day I broke it again when I snacked off his plate at dinner. Again the next day, and the next day. It is now January 7th and I have still not made one day without snacking off my child's plate!

What is wrong with me? Why can't I keep my hands off my children's food?

(I would like to note that I am not stealing the food out of their mouths. With the exception of the waffle incident, I "sample" after it is apparent that the food no longer interests them and I am not a "you must clean your plate" parent)

Perhaps I am acting out unconsciously because there are starving children in 3rd world countries that could be eating that food.

Perhaps, I am being frugal because I do all the shopping and I know how much that meal cost and throwing away food is like throwing away money.

Perhaps, I am saving a trip to the kitchen for a second helping because it is sitting right there on my child's plate, leaving food for my older children to take in their school lunches the next day saving me the "I don't know what to pack in my lunch." drama.

Perhaps, I just have no self control....

What, that can't be me?! I have self control. I drink water not soda or coffee. I don't eat chips or candy. I eat at least 5 fruits or vegetables each day (usually in their natural state). I exercise 6 days a week, usually at 5 a.m. I follow my workout plans. I don't kick puppies. I like old people. I follow Meg's rules for society -- I don't cut in line and I don't steal Christmas trees.

I HAVE SELF CONTROL...

Well..... considering that outburst coupled with my last post,

Perhaps, I don't.

Confession.... Actually, I know that I don't. I buy the little lunch bags of chips because then I will not eat them. I will not open a new bag of chips. I don't buy cookies -- (notice that I have not given up "baked goods" yet -- just keeping my options open) An open package of cookies is like a $20 bill in the middle of the sidewalk. You snatch that bugger up and pocket it before anyone notices. I have excellent covert mid-day cookie snacking techniques.

I know that I just need to get a couple of days under my belt of non-child-plate-snacking and I will be on the road to recovery. Unfortunately, there is no 7 step program nor patch that I can use. It is all on me.

Who knew that this would be the hardest challenge yet?

Wanted...

2008-12-30T19:42:00.010-06:00

WANTED

Baklava

Buckeyes (Peanut Butter Balls)

These two desserts have committed serious crimes against proper nutrition. If you see them, please do not approach. They are armed and dangerous with empty calories and the lure of deliciousness. Once you have interacted with them you will be under their power, unable to make rational and appropriate fueling decisions. If you see them, please report it to me and I will digest (I mean arrest) them immediately!

Hope your holiday celebrations were as "full-filling" as mine.

Here's to much success, many adventures, and a myriad of joy in the new year!

Merry Chaos-mas

2008-12-23T08:27:00.006-06:00

I love Christmas. The giving of gifts especially to the kids. I love their excitement about the day and enthusiasm about every present they get. This year should be good because Santa was really listening!

The house is still in chaos from the remodel. The stove, microwave, and dishwasher are still in the living room. We do have the tree up although it is quite naked. This does make it a better fort. I have yet to unearth the stockings, but they eventually will make it up!

We are looking forward to one set of grandparents joining us for a low key Christmas (I serve pizza, salad, and cookies. Christmas for me is about family and not spending time slaving in the kitchen!). Mr. Spie's brother may join us as well. Then on Friday we take off to spend the weekend Christmasing with the other set of grandparents, aunts and uncles, and cousins. Mr. Spie and I are hoping to get a date night (free babysitting) and connect with our long time friends who will be visiting the area as well. I am hoping to be able to run outside as it will not be dark, below zero, and covered in 17+ inches of snow! (That will be a present to me!)

Wishing all of you a restful holiday, a Merry Christmas, and a blessed New Year.

You think you've got a package...

2008-12-11T15:46:00.007-06:00

Mortification.

Every parent has experienced it and every parent pays it back when their child is a teenager.

I have had many mortification moments. Here are some of my most memorable ones:

We were on vacation in Branson, MO with my two oldest children. At the time, they were 3 and 1. During the middle of the night the fire alarm kept going off. The resort sent a security guard to assess the problem. My son (the three year old) looked at the security guard and said quite loudly to his father. "Dad, that is a big, fat, black man." Embarrassed, we ignored the comment. He repeated the same offense during a trip to a restaurant as he described the waitress, who was within earshot, as really fat. (She got a really fat tip for that meal.) To my son, those words were no less offensive than describing a cheese cracker as orange and square. BIG, FAT, and BLACK were descriptors. Nothing more. Unfortunately, as we get older, words are connected to feelings.

My oldest son is not the only one who has given me a "mortification moment". My oldest daughter, once when we were shopping, upon seeing a person in a wheelchair, asked quite loudly what was wrong with that person's legs. I quietly explained that their legs didn't work and it could happen for a variety of reasons. We talked about abilities/disabilities at length, turning the "mortification moment" into a "teaching moment".

I am not the only one that has experienced mortification. My friend recently had her children at the pediatrician for their "Well Child" check. At the check up the doctor always states the same questions year to year. "Does any one in the house smoke? Do you always wear a helmet when you ride a bike or scooter?... Do you have any firearms in the house?" I am not sure about the origin of the last question. I attribute it to the fact that we live in Wisconsin and as you may or may not know deer hunting is quite popular here. My friend answered all of the questions appropriately. "No, no one smokes. Yes, they always wear their helmets. No, we do not have any firearms in the house." Then, her 8 year old daughter called her out. "Mom, what about the BB gun?" Busted and embarrassed, she sheepishly admitted that she had forgotten about her husband's firearm purchase.

On Wednesday, I was mortified once again. This time it was my youngest, Captain Destruction. I was upstairs when the doorbell rang. My son beat me to the door, opening it for the Fed Ex delivery man. As I rush down the stairs, CD is standing in front of the storm door (which is only glass and screen) in his BIRTHDAY SUIT. As I pushed CD out of view, I opened the door and really did not know what to say other than sorry. My jaw was hanging open. I was completely speechless. I collected my package, CD and his package, and quickly shut the door.

Note to Self: I eventually will be able to pay him back... and it will be a doozie.

Fighting Dragons

2008-12-05T10:07:00.011-06:00

A dragon has appeared during my workouts.

I don't think it is coincidental that he appeared during our descent into the middle ages while we are remodelling our kitchen. I think that they travel hand in hand.

The first time the dragon appeared was during a swim work out. I planned to do a main set of 3 sets of 5 x100s on descending intervals. The dragon started lurking in the pool during the drills prior to the main set. Doubt that I could conquer the beast started to grow. As the dragon grew larger, my resolve grew weaker and the main set began to change. As I changed the number of repeats and swam recovery 50s (backstroke) between sets, I had to talk myself into completing my "modified on the fly" workout. I finished all but 200. The dragon did not win entirely, but it was a fierce battle which left my confidence shaken and gave me some battle scars.

Exhausted from battle, I did not workout for the next two days. On Monday, I jumped back into the deep end to do battle again. I choose to do a workout that I successfully battled before. The main set was 24x50s on a constant interval. Even though I have had success with this workout before, I saw the shadow of the dragon lurking on the bottom of the pool. This time I kept my resolve, he was held at bay, and victory was mine.

On Tuesday, the dragon reared his ugly head again. I had to run on the treadmill due to darkness and my fear of black ice. I planned to run a 10 minute warm up and four 1 mile sprint repeats with 3 minutes recovery followed by a 5- 10 minute cool down. The warm up and the first repeat went well. There was no dragon in sight. During the second mile repeat, the dragon nudged me in the side. Then, he stomped on my foot. I was caught off guard and not prepared to battle. Once again my strategy was to modify my workout and drop the pace. The dragon was relentless and soon I was running at a recovery pace for the duration of the workout. I completed my run defeated. The dragon definitely won this battle.

Today, I decided I was going to take the battle back to the pool. I had a win against my mighty foe on Monday and feeling a bit cocky, I pulled out the workout in which the dragon first appeared. Armed with knowledge with that my attitude was my greatest strength or weakness, I resolved to do battle and take down the beast once and for all. My battle strategy was to look at the sets individually and tackle each group of five like it was my only set for the swim. My plan worked. I did see the dragon lurking at the bottom of the pool. However, my determination made it undesirable for him to approach.

Soon, I will need to do battle again on the treadmill, but I think that I will bask in the glory of my pool victory for a little while longer.

Mid-evil times

2008-12-04T15:34:00.015-06:00

What could be so difficult about remodelling a kitchen? (insert ominous laughter).

We are about midway through the remodel and it has not been rainbows and ponies. Every single one of our remodelling projects has come back and bit us in the ....., but like childbirth, we seemingly forget the pain and jump into the home improvement deep end again and again. (Remember, we do have four children. Apparently, we have the collective memory of a gnat.)

Construction began on Friday. I loaded up the kids and left for a friend's house for a three day Wii fest. My father and the husband of the friend arrived at my house for the construction. We were gone from 9 a.m. to 8 p.m. When I returned home, they were still working and they had only placed TWO cabinets. (deep cleansing breath -- perhaps most of the time was spend planning. They have a system now....The rest will be a cake walk.... I will not panic) In placing the one cabinet, the stove was removed from the kitchen and joined the new refrigerator and old dishwasher in the living room. Our kitchen's amenities were slowly moving towards the middle ages. No running water, no storage, no heat (to cook).

My disappointment was apparent in my face. Mr. Spie said, "I bet you thought that we would have more done" (No duh!) Then he proceeded to tell me that his parents were coming up for the day to help. I thought that he was joking. I looked on the faces on my father and friend for a twinkle, a smirk, something. There was nothing. It wasn't a joke. His parents had told us that they were coming. Then, they told us that they weren't coming. Apparently, now they were coming for just the day. My thoughts wandered to our food situation (my MIL and FIL are sit down 4 course meal types of people). I had bought only enough take and bake pizza for 3 possibly4 men and there were no sides. Mr. Spie indicated that they were bringing food and I needed to come up with jobs for his mom to do while the men, including Mr. Spie's brother worked on the kitchen. I came up with a list of jobs and we went to bed.

The next morning we awoke and decided on doughnuts for breakfast (no cook, no mess, plates are optional). I left with the kids once again for Wii fest and eagerly anticipated a kitchen to materialize when I returned that evening. During the morning at my friend's, I was watching the little ones while she took the bigger ones to her kid's bowling league. This is when it all started going wrong. My daughter first complained of a stomach ache, then a headache, then she threw up all over my friends living room carpet. I cleaned up the mess and tried to keep all the other littles away from her while I waited for the others to return from bowling. The true friend that she is she did not kick us out upon her return and my daughter said that she "felt better." As lunch was being prepared, my daughter threw up again. This time all over my pants. This sealed my decision to come home. I brought my littles home and left the biggers there for the festival to be brought home at some later time by some undetermined person.

As I walked into my home carrying the ill one (who urped in the car on the way home as well!), I am met by a house abuzz with activity. The refrigerator wall of cabinetry was almost up and my BIL and FIL were working on the plumbing for the new dishwasher. I dropped the ill one into my room and brought in Captain Destruction to complete his nap. (He fell asleep in the car).
I walk into the kitchen to have a bomb dropped by Mr. Spie. The water has been turned off in the entire house. Our descent into the Middle Ages is now complete!!!! The Cheese (my ill daughter) who desperately wants a glass of water cannot have one. No working toilets. I am covered in urp and I cannot shower or wash the offending clothes.

Dinner is a problem. There is still no stove. Drinking is a problem. There is only soda and milk. There is work problems. Too many opinions. (A word of advice to those who are remodelling with friends and/or family. Go to the bank and get a couple of Visa gift cards. Then, when a worker on a project needs an item. HE can go to get the item rather than sending someone who doesn't exactly know what is needed and consequently will have to take three trips to the store to purchase the correct item.) Things are not going well. There is no light at the end of the tunnel.

At 7:30 p.m. the Cheese is feeling better. I look at the opinions, the lack of progress, and the chaos and decide that I am going to be the undetermined person who is going to pick up the biggers at a later time seeking refuge in my van for the hour long round trip. When I arrive at my friend's house to save her from my kids, I am informed that we now have water at our house... just not hot water. GREAT. I pick up the kids and drive home. As I am ordering the kids to bed, I pull my dad aside and state that the priority tomorrow is to put in the cabinets that are needed to be placed so a stove can be in the kitchen. I don't care about water, the dishwasher, the peninsula. I NEED A STOVE. I hated to pull out the "Daddy's Little Girl" card, but desperate times require desperate measures.

On Sunday, I take the stinky family to church and Mr. Spie stays home with my dad to tackle the kitchen. After church, we drive home quickly change and return to my friends for the final day of the festival. During the brief layover, I discover (joy of joys) that the stove is IN!!! We are slowly returning to the world of the modern living. We returned early afternoon to find all but three cabinets installed. My BIL was also returning to the house to retrieve a forgotten camera which we decided to hold hostage for hot water. Things finally were looking up. We had the take and bake pizza for dinner. The hostage negotiations went well as hot water was returned to the household.

Despite three solid (?) days of work, we still need to place three cabinets. Two are imperative as they need to be in place in order to have the kitchen measured for the countertop. We have to redo some electrical work in order for the micro hood to be hung and the drainage for the new dishwasher is a complex problem that needs some serious attention. This weekend, we are imposing on another friend to help. Hopefully we will continue to progress forward and not regress back into the middle ages.

2008-11-25T14:02:00.027-06:00

Today is my birthday.

I am now one year closer to a decade change.

I am not going to mention which decade I am going to enter next year (if I don't talk about it maybe it won't happen), but if you care to formulate a guess using the number of children and years I have been married, you can probably figure it out.

I have been struggling with my next birthday. I have tried to put various spins on it including denial and looking at age group results in the bracket up for races that I want to participate in. My thought was that if I had to go up an age group, maybe I'll go up in results as well. Sadly, my new group is as fast, if not faster than the one I am leaving. (Don't those women have jobs or something else to keep from training?)

My newest strategy involves trying to reflect upon my current decade, as I have one more year in it, and celebrate all of the things that have happened to me during that time.

My list is topped off by the addition of my four wonderful, beautiful, smart, almost always (well sometimes, maybe) well behaved children.

We moved to Wisconsin where we have made friends that will undoubtedly last us a lifetime.

I have had the ability (privilege) of being a stay at home mom where I can witness many milestones and moments from the life of my kids that I would have missed if I had continued working.

We have had the opportunity to take vacations and spend time with long time family friends creating many fond memories for ourselves and our children -- a present that will last them forever.

I became involved in endurance sports (marathons and triathlons) and as a result I have met many great people and am in the better shape now than in the beginning of the decade.

Although my list is currently only up to five, I think that it is good start. I am planning on dwelling on the positive and celebrating what I have accomplished rather than rue a decade change. I think my new approach is much healthier than denial and drowning my sorrows in a bagful of Swedish Fish, Jelly Bellies, chocolate chips, or all three (kind of an unhealthy trail mix).

KITCHEN UPDATE!!

I currently have NO kitchen. As you notice in the pictures, I have a refrigerator and a stove. My kitchen counter is a old door (which is the color of the cabinets prior to me painting them green) and saw horses. No dishwasher. No sink. So far, no problem. We are using as much paper products as possible and I wash dishes in the bathroom sink.

All of my new kitchen cabinets are stacked in order in my garage. My new refrigerator in my living room and my new range, micro hood, and dishwasher are in the other half of the garage. Installation weekend is the Friday after Thanksgiving --

Who needs big sale savings when I am going to get my KITCHEN partially back?

(We have to reuse the old counter top until the new counter top is measured and installed)

Woo Hoo!!! Let the carpentry begin.

Let the insanity begin......

2008-11-13T16:50:00.041-06:00

Today we started the kitchen remodel. I am quite excited by the prospect of a new kitchen. I have always hated my cabinets and we were constantly changing things to make the kitchen work for us. Here are some of the fabulous "features" of the old (current) kitchen.

The first thing that probably strikes you is the color. Believe me when I say that my paint job is a real improvement over the color they were when we moved in. As you will notice the floor is a honey oak color. The walls are painted white accented with a light avocado green. The cabinets were stained dark -- like the color of baker's chocolate. It made the kitchen look like a cave. After a year living in the cave, I decided that I could not stand the color of the cabinets and I painted them a light green and "aged" them with wood stain. When all of the doors were replaced, light finally shown in the kitchen. We were no longer cave dwellers. The paint however could not hide the fact that the framed doors were coming apart and paint could not repair the poorly functioning drawers.

This is a picture of the interior of the workspace. This peninsula has been the bane of our existence. When we moved in this was a breakfast bar. The counter top extended about 8 inches on the other side. At that time, we had two children ages 2 and 6 months. We would not sit them at a breakfast bar. The breakfast bar also limited access to the backyard. If you notice, there is a sliding glass door along the wall on the other side of the peninsula. The breakfast bar in a combination with the kitchen table made using that door almost impossible. Similar to the "fix" of the color, we "fixed" the counter top as well. We dusted off the circular saw and cut off the breakfast bar making more room for the kitchen table and giving access to the backyard through the sliding door. Another feature to note is the garbage can under the counter. The overhang is a little of the left over breakfast bar. We could not see losing the counter space. Prior to the garbage can residing there numerous "right height" children gave themselves some nice goose eggs on the overhang. This part of the kitchen coined the famous phrase in our house -- "It's not a party until someone throws up, there is blood, and a head injury."

I know this is a repeat of the first image, but I forgot to point out an important "non -safety" feature of my kitchen. Note the stove, it is right next to the doorway. I have always been paranoid that I will have a handle of a pan sticking out over the edge of the stove top, into the door opening and a child will whiz by and send food sailing and (most likely) send a child to the hospital for burns. It is obvious that the kitchen designer did not have kids. (We did in fact have a pan fly, but it was a husband, not a child that caused the demise of that dinner -- I think that it may have been on purpose as he was quick to suggest pizza after he cleaned up the mess). The stove will move over to the right and a small cabinet will been added to the left of the stove for additional storage and safety.

There is something "off" about this picture. Did you notice it? It's not the mess. It is the fact that the sink is not centered on the window. As Mr. Spie and I were standing in the kitchen talking about what we would like, I said that I would really like to have the sink centered on the window. He said that he never really had noticed that it wasn't centered on the window before. (We have lived here 6 years). Now, he says it bothers him. -- The sink has been centered on the window in the new kitchen plan.

Wait? What is that ringing? Do you hear the telephone? Where is the telephone? Why can't I find the telephone!?!You can't find the telephone because it is in this wall of cabinets. The "bat phone" as we lovingly call it sits behind door #1 in the middle row of cabinets. The cabinets are only 13.5" deep so they do not hold much bigger than a box of cereal. The top row of cabinets I used to hold food. The middle row held the telephone and telephone necessities, napkins, kitchen linens, etc. I had small appliances, which you can see, in the bottom row. This made the Fry Daddy very accessible to Captain Destruction. He is also the reason for the missing cabinet door. As he was climbing the cabinets to get his own "snack" the door broke off. We had repaired at least three other cabinets after they met the same fate.

Our new cabinets will not be green. My stove will not be a safety hazard. The view will be the same from both sides of the sink. I will have functioning drawers. All cabinets will have doors and the "goose egg maker" over hang will be no more.

Up next -- pictures of the interim kitchen.

a questioning blog about nothing

2008-11-03T07:26:00.015-06:00

1. Is it right to feel guilty about missing a workout during the off-season?

Last Monday, Mr. Spie left really early in the morning (3:00 a.m.) on a business trip. Sunday, in preparation for his trip, I made him get the dreadmill out of hibernation as I will not be able to run outside until his return. (What a waste of daylight savings time ending!) Monday morning, shortly before my alarm went off (5:30 a.m.), Captain Destruction was wandering around the house. I captured him and snuggled with him until he fell asleep again. This action, however, did not leave me enough time to get my run in before I had to rouse the troops for school. I need to get over feeling guilty over a missed workout -- especially a missed workout during off season.

2. When do you cross the line talking about an athletic event you participated in?

In my swim class, there is a woman that talked incessantly the first day about the marathon she had just completed. (most likely the Chicago). Every sentence was "When I was in mile 20 of the marathon..." or "I am still so very tight after the marathon", "My foot hurts still after running the marathon" I completely understand the excitement of completing your event.

On Sunday, a week later, the marathon continued..."I was so elated to get out and run this week. It was the first time that I ran since the marathon." "It was a great run, a little slow though because I just did a marathon". I listened in silence as she talked to her friend, but my in head I was thinking "Enough already!" I am torn between making a comment like "I know. After I ran my first marathon it was hard to get back into the groove, it becomes easier after subsequent marathons" or tracking how many weeks that she will continue the marathon talk.

3. Is it wrong to anxiously await the arrival of your Ebay purchase? Does this giddiness become weird if the purchase is new set of Carmichael training dvds?

On Tuesday, I discovered in the most unfortunate way the Captain Destruction had gotten a hold of my one and only trainer dvd. It is (was) a time trial work out and as I was in the middle of the final "power interval" of 5 minutes sustained at 100+ rpm. I was staring at the clock, intently, wishing that time would go faster than it was. Rather than going faster it stalled, then stopped -- at 1:46 of the interval left to go. I kept pedalling waiting for it to correct itself.

Pedalling. Waiting. Pedalling. Waiting. Still pedalling. Still waiting.

Oh, Tatar Sauce!!

Finally, I stop, get off the bike, fast forward the dvd a few seconds, get back on the bike and complete the never ending interval. I needed to replace this dvd. I love being told what to do in training and at 5:00 a.m I am not creative nor motivated enough to do a real intense work out on my own. An Internet shopping trip was in order. So, Happy Birthday!! early to me, I now am awaiting 5 new dvds!! Four of which I will use. The fifth is a mountain bike workout that I intend to convince my husband to use.

4. Is remodelling your kitchen the during the holidays pure insanity or a great way to keep company at bay?

I am at T minus 18 days before we are ripping out the kitchen cabinets. At best I am looking at 1 month without a complete kitchen. The appliances are expected to take residence in my garage on the 19th and installation has been scheduled for the Friday after Thanksgiving. I am excited about the new kitchen. I have to admit that I am even a bit more excited at the prospect of not having to entertain during the holidays. No kitchen = no food + no cleaning, because why bother!

5. At what point do you write a letter to a store manager?

Tuesday is my grocery shopping day. After I drop the two oldest off at school, the two youngest and I drive to the grocery store with list in hand. Our school does a grocery store gift card fundraiser, so I shop that store to give money to the school and get a discount on my tuition. I arrive at the store and am greeting by signs that indicate that due to a system upgrade starting a four a.m. and until further notice, they will be unable to accept gift cards and debit cards for shopping purchases. We walk in and stop by the service desk to see if the upgrade is still going on. It is and now I cannot shop there because my methods of payment (gift card and debit card) are now eliminated. I gather the kids and return to the car to shop at a different store as we are desperate for food. As I drive the 15 minutes back into town, I wonder why advance notice could not have been given about this upgrade. I could have moved my shopping day, planned in advance. Surely they must have known this ahead of time. I am not the only person in the world that shops once a week am I?

Upon arrival at grocery store number 2, my children indicate that they would like to ride in a truck cart. We examine 3 truck carts before we find one that has both steering wheels. I have two children riding so I need two steering wheels. The drawback to the cart with the dual steering wheels is that there are no functioning seat belts. I decide that the steering wheels outweigh the seat belts and I will deal with the consequences of my choice as they appear. Shopping goes fairly smoothly. The two year old (Captain Destruction) is doing fairly well. He pops out of the cart when I stop, but gets in when I request him to. Near the end of our shopping adventure, he starts to get a little antsy and starts to climb the outside of the truck cart. I am not driving fast. I am stopping frequently to put items in the cart, so I am not too concerned when he rides on the sides of the truck cart, but am adamant that he will not ride on the roof and stop and request that he get off and back in the cart when he attempts to "truck surf".

I am in the last aisle, searching for the elusive last item on my list and a gentleman approaches me. He is the operations manager of the store (as indicated by his name tag) Here is our conversation.

Operations Manager --"I just wanted you to know that it is unsafe for him to ride on top of the truck" (Mind you that the cart is not moving at this time and I am standing still looking for my last item -- CD must have climbed on the truck while I was searching for the item)

Me -- "I understand that you are doing your job, but understand that I am just trying to get my grocery shopping done as quickly as possible"

Operations Manager --"But, if he should fall...."

"If he should fall, I wouldn't dream of holding the store responsible"

Operations Manager --"Just as long as we have had this conversation" -- and he walks away.

Now, I am a little upset (insert a nastier word to get the real emotion). I find the elusive item, with CD in the truck cart and see the Operations Manager talking to a wine vendor. I stop by him and wait for him to finish.

Me "I just wanted to let you know that part of my problem is that this cart's seat belts are not functioning. If they were, my son would be belted in."

Operations Manager -- "I doubt that that would stop him from climbing on the top of the cart"

Me "I don't think that you have ever had a precocious two year old and he would be belted in"

Operations Manager -- "I have had my share of precocious two year olds"

Then I walked away. As I waited in line, because I needed the food, I seethed. Then the lady behind me jumped line in front of me and when I questioned her about it she wasn't even apologetic.

Fortunately, it is not a tale all of woe. A cashier from heaven appeared and took me immediately, helped me bag my groceries, and I was out of the store before the tears appeared and the line cutting lady even had her groceries on the belt.

NOW, after all this questioning and contemplation, I still have no answers and have realized that I have a lot more to remodel than just my kitchen. I obviously need to remodel my attitude and most significantly my parenting skills (according to the operations manager at my local grocery store).

snap shots of my life -- a random blog

2008-10-28T10:30:00.018-05:00

FRIDAY'S AFTERNOON ADVENTURE:

Don't let his adorable look fool you. Captain Destruction is in full force. I had just finished washing the hardwood floors and decided to take a bathroom break prior to my next cleaning project. My 4 year old knocks on the door and tells me that Captain Destruction is playing with that "thing I make fries in". I quickly exit to find C.D. playing with the Fry Daddy (not plugged in but full of frying oil) in his birthday suit. He is stirring the oil with a lint brush and my hand mixer already had been submerged. I pick him up. He is slick with oil. I look at my once clean floor, noticing the oil puddle that is now soaking into the hardwood. Then I look at the clock. 15 minutes until I have to pick up the others from school. I quickly wipe down the boy and place him in a chair and tell him to sit while I clean up the mess. Two year old boys don't sit. He kept getting up and leaving oil pawprints all over the floor on his way to come "help you". I placed him in the chair two more times before I secured him in the chair so he could not get up -- much to his dismay. I was able to get the mess cleaned up and C.D. fully wiped down (and dressed) and to the school on time. The car, however, still smells a little bit like fried chicken.

FRIDAY NIGHT'S SCARE:

My children's school had a Sausage and Kraut dinner on Friday night. It included a costume contest. I gave in this year and pulled out a bridesmaid dress, bought a crown, and became MISS KRAUT 2008. I had beauty pagent hair, put on make-up (a once a year occurance, if that), and wore heels. I had a great time and my friends joked that they would never see me in make up again -- I agreed. The very scary part was that people were coming up to my husband that night and on Sunday and telling him that I looked great and he should have taken me out after the dinner.

WOW, I must look really bad in everyday life if an overdone beauty pagent makeover garners compliments.

SATURDAY'S REVELATION:

If you read my previous post you know that we Trick or Treated on Sunday. Saturday was set aside for pumpkin carving. I have pumpkin carving issues and we will just leave it at that.

MONDAY'S PROBLEM as a result of SUNDAY'S LESSON:

On Sunday, I began a swim class. I have felt stagnant in my swim and am hoping that improving my body positioning and correcting some stroke flaws will improve my times and efficiency as I prepare to do longer triathlon distances next year. The class went well. We worked on the skate postition with flippers and were given the task to practice. I swam on Monday and practice I did. I incorporated the skate drills at the beginning, middle, and end of my workout. My flippers did me in as I now have a rub blister (burn) about 1.5 inches long on the top of my foot. It hurts, itches, and burns all at once. I moved Tuesday's run to another day out of fear rubbing the burn even more and having it actually bleed. I now am searching for protection from my flippers for my next practice session on Thursday and lesson on Sunday. If any one has any suggestions, please let me know.

Oh, I also wanted to mention that it SNOWED Monday. How crazy is that?

Here's hoping for some solutions and sanity--

and perhaps an ambush from Clinton and Stacy as I apparently need a makeover!

..a relationship blueprint -- a work in progress

2008-10-18T08:33:00.011-05:00

This past Sunday Mr. Spie and I celebrated our 12th wedding anniversary.

Mr. Spie and I 12 years ago. We were so young and carefree!

Mr. Spie and I now (plus 2 years. I don't like having my picutre taken.) We are so much older, ummm I mean wiser now!

This anniversary was a little different this year. This past summer, Mr. Spie's brother and his wife divorced. This has deeply affected Mr. Spie.

I would describe our relationship as "casual" -- not in commitment, but in attitude. I have no idea the date of our first date/kiss/engagement. Generally, we do not buy each other anniversary presents. A card and a kiss have always sufficed. We have always operated under the pretense that anniversary present money would be better spent on one of the kids activities/clothes/ home improvement projects... the list goes on and on. This philosphy also somewhat applies to Christmas as well. We do not go overboard on gifts for each other. The largest gift to one another comes from the "kids". Christmas is for others and not for ourselves.

Throughout the years and the many children, we have developed our own interests. We skillfully negotiate time so everyone can do their favorite things. We also support each other interests (I'll give kudos to Mr. Spie to being way more supportive of my interests than I of his. He has endured long training runs, purchased me road bikes, and bike trainers. He has watched several marathons in inclement weather with our children in tow.) Our joint interests, however, have suffered with the addition of the children. This added to the significant lack of alone time sprinkled with his brother's divorce has caused Mr. Spie alarm.

He is fearful that we are or will soon be drifting apart because our personal interests do not coincide, our shared interests have been shelved due to lack of time, and there is little to no alone time due to work, parenting, volunteering, and all the other "must dos".

I am not hearing the alarms (or they are not as loud for me). I feel that our foundation is still strong. He is my best friend. I tell him all of my secrets. I can show him the unpleasantness that is inside of me without fear and judgement. He is the first person I want to tell any news to -- good or bad. Our "inside jokes" still make me crack up and we are adding more and more each year.

After listening to Mr. Spie's fears and being a little shaken by the BIL's divorce, I will concede that in our marriage house there is some structural support that we need to work on. Our relationship reinforcement construction, thus far, has three steps.

1. We have arranged with one of our friends a babysitting co-op. We dump, er drop, our children off at their house so we can have a "date night". Then we reciprocate the next month. Athough, the only gives us "date night" 6 times a year, it is six times a year more than we are doing currently and it also eliminates one of the barriers to our going out -- the expense of a babysitter.

2. We are trying to find more shared interests. This has resulted in Mr. Spie agreeing to participate in an team adventure race with me in 2009. Although he is not excited about the run portions, he is excited about the bike. I am excited about having the experience with him. We also have found some other races that we might consider in the future. Mr. Spie is fired up about the Tour de Donut -- but who wouldn't be?

3. We are trying to make a conscious effort to do more things as a family --bike rides, walks, daytrips, going out to dinner. If often seems that we are going in a million different directions and we rarely do anything fun as a group (unless you count shopping for new appliances fun -- it wasn't fun for anyone last night!)

After we get these structural supports in and secured, checking that they will not shift or change, we undoubtedly will continue on our relationship reinforcement adding more strength to the relationship that we have already built.

I have to admit that I am interested as to what our building will look like in the years to come.

a frightening race

2008-10-08T11:12:00.010-05:00

I love fall! The colors, the perfect running weather, the food!

I have decided I hate Halloween. Halloween has become all about competition and I have not trained at all for the race.

My memories of Halloween as a child are of my mom making my sister and my costumes. At school we would have a Halloween party. We would do no "real" work. Instead we would play games, have a costume parade, and party. Halloween night, my friends and I would go through my neighborhood, their neighborhoods, and any other adjoining neighborhoods that we could prior to the designated time I had to be home trick or treating. I would come home, examine my loot, and collapse into bed in a vain attempt to be refreshed for the next school day.

The only thing that is similar to my Halloween of yesteryear and Halloween today is that my kids wear costumes. (Well, it's not the only thing, but follow along with me)

Halloween starts in my neighborhood on October 1st when the Halloween outdoor decorations appear. My neighbor across the street has a tree decorated with ghosts and web, orange lights on their porch, and pumpkins on their steps along with a hay bale. Upon seeing their Martha Stewart-esque display, my oldest daughter, N, asks me when we are going to put up our Halloween decorations. I answer that we don't have that many Halloween decorations. As I end my sentence, N adds on the end of my thought "and if you put them out, that means that you will have to put them away too." (Yes, I admit that I have become that jaded about holidays. I have often contemplated if anyone would even notice if I didn't put up the Christmas tree. It is Newton's law that what goes up must come down. I would like to add to the end of the adage "and be put away by a mom".)

The costumes are another ordeal. My kids go to a private school. There is no Halloween party, but we do have a Sausage and Kraut dinner fundraiser where there is a costume parade and a COSTUME CONTEST. The thrill of having the designation of best costume is enough to drive me and others to extremes. The first two years, I sewed beautiful costumes for my children. R, my oldest son was Obi Wan Kenobi, N was Jasmine, and V, my youngest daughter, was Snow White. I went as a woman in a shower complete with duck, shower cap, curtain, and scrubbie. No prizes were won. The next year, I broke down and bought R a storm trooper costume (he REALLY wanted it and I could not see how to make it), N was Ariel the mermaid with hand drawn scales, and V was a golden winter princess. Jaded from the year before, I did not dress up. Again, no prizes. This year, I have thrown in the towel. My sewing machine is broken due to my youngest, informally known as Captain Destruction, and in order to save some money for household expenses (also caused by Captain Destruction), I mandated that we would wear costumes that we already have for dress up clothes that have not been worn EVER to a parade let alone to trick or treat. The oldest two have accepted the mandate and are creatively solving the problem. V melts into a pile of child and sobs, SOBS about costumes. This is still unresolved.

My problems with costume competition is only the crust of my bitterness. Trick or treating is the filling to my bitter pie. Where we live .......

WE DON'T TRICK OR TREAT ON HALLOWEEN!

What you say? That is absurd! I think so too.

The first year we moved here we missed trick or treating altogether. Trick or treating is always the Sunday before Halloween from 3 to 6 in the evening. There is no dark. There is no sense of getting away with something because you are out on a school night.

(This year Halloween is on a Friday night. Why can't they trick or treat on a Friday night? I cannot wait until next year when Halloween is on a Saturday and see what they do or the year after when it actually falls on a Sunday. Will we trick or treat on the Sunday before the Sunday that is Halloween? Remind me and I will let you know.)

In addition to the day of trick or treating, I have issue with parent involvement in trick or treating. When our family trick or treats, Mr. Spie loads up the wagon with the little ones and the whole costumed clan WALKS around our neighborhood, visiting neighbors and collecting goodies. They are not out the whole time. Generally, he makes the kids walk for most of the time. It is not a "free candy bus tour" through the neighborhood. Oh yes, we do have "free candy bus tours" through my neighborhood.

We live on the "outskirts" of a very affluent neighborhood. My neighborhood is known for full size candy bars, Jone's Soda, and Oriental Trading Company crafts. As a result of this reputation, parents from other neighborhoods, even adjoining cities, drive their children and others in vans, pickup trucks, SUVs to our neighborhood for trick or treating. These children, however, do not walk from house to house. Instead, they ride from driveway to driveway in the back of the truck. Trick or treaters (mostly middle school- aged and up) jump out of the vehicle and run to the door while the engine is idling. They collect their loot, jump on the back of the truck again to drive the 10 feet to the next driveway.

The reputation of our level of loot has also cause me to question my treat choices from year to year. Dum Dums? Your house will be labeled DUMB. Those peanut butter kisses? The KISS OF DEATH! One year, my neighbors (not the ones with the ghost tree but other neighbors) were giving away Pez dispensers. Not just the candy, but candy and the dispenser. My candy choices have varied from year to year. My choices are primarily based on what candy I am less likely to consume. One year, frustrated by all of the high school kids that were trick or treating at my house, I gave away Clifford and Bob the Builder fruit snacks, a favorite of little ones which trick or treating is really for anyway. You would think I was giving away gold. I am already contemplating what candy I am going to give away this year. I am actually thinking about what my kids have received in the past years so I do not seem out of place in my neighborhood. As I think these thoughts, I take a step back and realize that I already am competing with the house decorations, the costumes, and now the CANDY?

I have decided that I am going to contact the Halloween race directors. I don't think that I am physically able to compete this year as I have not trained properly and am injured (well, at least my sewing machine is). Maybe they will take pity on me and grant me a medical waiver/roll over. Then I will have a whole year to gear up and train for next year's competition.

I just didn't listen...

2008-10-05T18:42:00.006-05:00

As my alarm went off a 5:40 this morning, I decided that I didn't want to get up and ride the trainer. I awoke Mr. Spie (which I am sure he loved!!) and asked if he had plans for this afternoon or may I ride outside. He grunted something about no plans for him and I made plans for me to ride outside and settled down for more sleep.

At 12:30 I pulled my bike outside and had Mr. Spie check the pressure the tires. One of the tires did not want to inflate. After three attempts, we decided on "good enough". (Warning #1)

I fastened on my helmet and took off. I was joyous to be riding outside. I rode 10 minutes away from my house and decided that my seat was not comfortable. I had shifted the nose down so I could ride more comfortable on the trainer. It was not comfortable on the road. (Warning #2)

I pulled over onto a driveway and set about adjusting my seat. As I was pulling my tools out of the bike bag, the zipper on the bike bag broke. (Warning #3)

I fixed the seat. Removed the bike bag and carried it back home. I threw it in the house and yelled to Mr. Spie that I was still riding and I was just going to carry my phone. His reply "But, you won't have a tube or any tools." (Warning #4)

I set out again and realized that my seat was still loose. Dismounted after not even getting out of the driveway and adjusted the seat again. (Warning #5)

Seat adjusted. Helmet on. Finally riding. Feeling good. 40 minutes in and it starts to sprinkle. (Warning #6)

I decided that I really wanted to get my ride in and as long as the pavement does not get wet I would continue my ride. I turned to make a second loop and it starts to rain. (Warning #7)

Cold and on wet pavement, common sense made me abort my mission and take the "quick" way home. I suddenly feel slower than I was before. I look down and I have a rear flat. In the rain. Miles from home. In 50+ degree weather. Wearing shorts.

I called Mr. Spie to come rescue me. His answer "Why did you get a flat?"

I got a flat because I didn't listen to the warnings.

control freak-out

2008-09-25T17:56:00.010-05:00

I have decided to "out" myself. I have a secret to share with you. Shh! don't tell anybody else, but I am a bit of a control freak.

I justify my budgets, schedules, and routines as a way for me to create order in my chaotic life. Ask me about any day, I can tell you who has what activity, if there are any appointments, and what we are having for dinner (perhaps lunch too). I'll admit that I really like knowing what is going to happen next. I can plan for it, change the schedule, arrange care or transportation if need be weeks in advance. If I am invited to a social event and the invitation is extended casually or ambiguously, it drives me crazy. If the schedule is changed at the last minute, it will throw off the entire day. I am really not a "go with the flow" kind of gal.

Guess what? I love training plans. Shocking isn't it? Give me a plan and I will follow it religiously. The more detailed the plan, the better. Swim sets with prescribed rest intervals. Fantastic! Runs with fartleks assigned. Tell me when and I will do them. Timed rides with set sprints are my idea of heaven. This is why I hate off-season.

I finished my last triathlon of the season a few weekends ago. My 2008 training plan was followed through to its completion. Now, I am uncomfortably sitting in a place where my first race of 2009 (2009's races are already planned of course) is not until the beginning of June. My training plan for the race will not start until end of February which leaves me 5 months of being sans a training plan.

I think that I may be getting hives.

I have attempted to get relief by making my own training plans (homeopathic medicine, if it were), but the details are not there. I have assigned days to bike, swim, and run. I have determined general types of workouts that need to be done -- time trial training, long sustained rides, sprint swim sets, continuous swims, etc. However, the details are not written out. The pages in the training calendar for next week are blank.

Where is that calamine lotion?

Although it seems absurd for a control freak to admit this --

I NEED SOMEONE OR SOMETHING TO TELL ME WHAT TO DO!!!!

I have been combing the Internet looking for detailed plans that match my prescribed type of swim/bike/run workout. I have checked out triathlon books to look at their off-season plans. (Many of the books I found do not have very specific off season plans.) I have discussed the possibility of a coach with Mr. Spie, but alas it is not in the budget -- children are expensive.

Are these spots growing larger?

I have some tentative solutions to my ir-rash-tional dilemma. I will sign up for swim lessons in October and am planning on purchasing some bike training DVDs, but these salves do not provide full relief for what ails me. In order to find relief, one of two things need to happen.

1. I need to give up some control and be able to go with the flow. (This is not very likely)

or

2. I need to find and start following a plan.

Because I have not yet been able to find the correct prescription for what ails me, you may want to purchase some stock in Benadryl. It looks like it is going to be a long five months of me itchin' for my training plan to start.

it's all in the numbers

2008-09-19T13:04:00.018-05:00

I am obsessed with numbers. As the CEO/CFO of the family, I create and attempt to adhere to many budgets -- food budgets, clothing budgets (Did you know that children actually grow out of their things? The nerve!), activity budgets, gas budgets, etc, -- Any expense that is related to the household or family, I have assigned a limiting number to it. Call it what you will, organized or control freak, everything has a number. Sometimes the numbers are met and sometimes the numbers are exceeded. Generally, the excess, within reason, does not bother me that much. UNLESS...UNLESS of course you are talking about the numbers I assign to my triathlons and triathlon training.

After each of my races, once the "final" numbers are posted, I scrutinize and compare them to previous race results, training bests, potential, and the field. I doubt that Alan Greenspan did as much analysis as I do. I even have a spreadsheet devoted to my race results that calculates my percentage in the field for total and each event. With every positive I see, (Way to go!! My bike time was 5 minutes faster than the last time I did that route) there is almost always an accompanying negative (Although I cut 5 minutes off my bike, my bike rank was X lower than my swim rank and my swim rank was X lower than my run. Gosh, I really need to step up my bike and swim. ) In theory, this can be a great way to identify weaknesses and train to your strengths. However, for me, the analysis creates a variety of debits and credits which have to be reconciled in the "triathlon training bank".

During training, quality deposits must be made. On my bike, I have created a speed limit that must be exceeded. Should I fall below my limit, I question whether or not my ride is worth a deposit. In my swimming, I get upset if I do not make my assigned intervals or if my timed long sustained swim takes longer than ones previous. I consider if my swim workout was a debit or a credit. Consciously, I know that I should just enjoy being able to swim, bike, and run and relish being alone (a rare occasion as a mother of four). I should not beat myself up because I did not meet a self-imposed numerical goal.

There is a difference between knowledge and action. Today, my numbers obsession went into action.

When the alarm went off way too early for my swim, I contemplated rearranging my training schedule so I could sleep some more. (On Sunday, I completed my last sprint race for the season and I am not recovering as rapidly as usual. It may be related to the fact that I was camping and hiking the weekend of the triathlon, but who's to say?) I talked myself into swimming and got my body and my gear ready to go. As I am walking out the room, my two year old suffered from an attack of what best can be describes as "the terrible twos". He was screaming about a pillow and water, but when offered those things, he screamed even louder. I aborted the swimming mission and focused energy on getting the 2 year old calmed down, so he would not wake up the entire house, and back asleep. Finally, he found the right pillow, received water with ICE(always a prerequisite for him -- I still have not discovered which brother or sister I need to thank), and settled down to sleep. Too late to swim and return in time for Mr. Spie to get to work, I mentally rearranged my training schedule, deciding to run after school drop off with the two year old in the jogger and swim on Saturday. Then, I bed down for another 45 more minutes of glorious sleep.

After I dropped all of the urchins at their respective schools, the two year old and I returned home to start the run. I gave him food, a toy, and strapped him in for the long haul. He seemed content and I was celebrating the day and my additional sleep. My celebration was a little presumptuous. My route, due to some road construction, is three different intersecting loops. We walked for a warm up and then were off. The start of the run was uneventful and very pleasurable. My passenger was happy. I was happy. Then the road changed direction and I was running into the wind. I was using a double jogging stroller. Have you ever used a double jogging stroller? It is a little like pushing a weighted sail into the wind. Passenger was still happy. I was working hard, but happy. All was good. The training deposit was growing at a significant rate.

At start of the second loop, passenger was done with his food and was bored. Two year old + bored =trouble. At first he was rubbing his hand against the wheel, adding resistance to the run (into the wind). Not satisfied with the entertainment value, he decided to drive his toy car on the wheel of the stroller as I ran. This was entertaining until the point where he dropped it. I had to stop, run back, and pick up the toy. Now, bored and toyless, the passenger was NOT happy. He struggled to get out of his seat restraint, writhing back and forth like a fish out of water. Passenger, finally breaking free from the chains that bound him, stood up in his seat, turned around, and looked at me triumphantly as the stroller tipped backwards causing me to suddenly stop and right the stroller to avoid a football style pile up. Passenger decides he is going to sit in the other side of the stroller, without the seat belt. This is not acceptable. Passenger is strapped into stroller, seat belts are tightened, and we repeat the Houdini escape routine a couple more times.

As this is happening, I am still arguing with myself about running xx miles - the three loops. Passenger is obviously not on board with my plan, but I am going to persevere. I had been stopping the watch for a more accurate time every time I had to stop and will not admit defeat. If I wave the white flag and walk, I would have to rearrange schedules to make up the run tomorrow -- doubling up the workouts. You see, I planned to run xx miles this week at a xx:xx pace and if stopped and walked I would not make my numbers -- my deposit will be off.

Near the end of the second loop, I began bargaining with passenger. Realizing the third loop would never happen, I was promising the world (television) and the stars (more food) to have him sit so I could at least complete the second loop. The negotiations were tough as passenger held all of the cards but he finally sat down and we continued on our way home to the sounds of "Mom, the neighborhood tour guide" dialog. (Look, there's a dog. Look at that funny mailbox. Do you see those pretty flowers? Let's count down the houses to our house.) At some point during the intense negotiations, I FORGOT TO STOP MY WATCH. Now my numbers are OFF, SKEWED, WRONG, INVALID. I had no idea how long the negotiations lasted. As I ran the last few feet to my home, I am still trying to calculate how much time was spent in negotiations. Without an accurate time, I cannot calculate my pace. I cannot correctly bank my "run deposit" in my "triathlon bank". My run has become the pocket change that you leave in the cushions of your couch only useful if you need to give a child a bribe or allowance.

I walked into the house feeling physically and fiscally poor. Although I know I worked hard, if I could not quantify the effort of my run through numbers, was it really worth the effort? Did I really make a deposit? As I sat and recovered to the sounds of Dora and Map and cereal being eaten, I decided that even though I did not earn the amount of triathlon currency I had expected, I still worked hard for the deposit I had and decided it was worth a trip to the bank. After all, for me lately, it only comes down to the numbers.

The entry in the workout calendar for today:

Run x.x miles

roads I travel

2008-09-16T17:12:00.029-05:00

For more than 6 months I have stalked -- oops I mean read many triathlon/life related blogs on the Internet. My trip down the "dark side" started out innocently enough. I started training for triathlons as my chosen sport, not just a way to cross train for marathons, and I was searching for some motivation, support, validation, and perhaps a local training partner to accompany me on my journey. I did find motivation and support from some "friends"(blogs). However, I did not find a local training partner, perhaps a blessing for him/her, considering the title of my blog, but I digress.

Mr. Spie, tired of me relating stories about people I have never met and a little concerned over my need to follow the training "soap operas" of the blogs I read daily, hinted that I had an addicition and had often joked that the next step in my addiction of blog reading is blog writing. Not one to disappoint, here I am composing a blog.

For about a week, I have had my blog formatted-- ready to write. During those seven days and most significantly right now I have come to realize that the process of writing a blog is certainly harder than reading blogs. While it initially seems that it would be simple to put your world (thoughts and feelings included) into black and white, it truly is more complicated than that. Many of the blogs that I read are insightful, inspirational, or a way to humorously escape for a moment or two from daily life. Right now, as I am parked in front of the computer, simultaneously trying to write and ignore my children, I have realized that I am terrified by the power of the blog. I am currently doubting my ability to inspire, be insightful, or even entertain anyone other than my children. I do not have a 100% success rate with them. (See above comment about currently ignoring them).

Additionally, once you hit that orange publish post button, you are putting yourself out there for people to relate to, judge, complement, criticize, etc.... This is very hard to wrap my brain around as I vehemently dislike phoning in any take out order and rarely will use any kind of drive-thru for fear of being judged purely on my speech (or ordering ability). When given a choice between phone and face, face wins every single time. Now I am venturing in a forum that I will be judged on thoughts, feelings, and writing ability with no face to face interaction possible? What am I thinking?

My oldest daughter was recently asked to join a competition gymnastics team at her gym. We had one "no obligation" week to try on the training schedule and see how it fit with our lives and school. At the end of the week, I asked her if she liked it and and if she wanted to continue with team or go back to recreational gymnastics. She thought about it for a while and said that she really liked it, but she wanted to go back to recreational gymnastics. Mystified, I asked her why. Her answer was because it is hard. After further discussion, she decided that she would give it a try for a couple months and we would re-evaluate again at the first of the year.

I am now following in my daughter's footsteps and attempting to do something that I like, joining a blogging community that I enjoy and has given me much, that is entertwined with something that will be hard, letting down my guard and putting real self out there for all to see.

Let's hope the re-evaluation process at the first of the year goes well for my daughter and for me.