Jinkies!

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

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...

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....

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

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

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....

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

A photo essay by No I Son, age 9

When life gives you...

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....

... 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

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

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

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

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

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.