Friday, March 31, 2006

It's Shopping Time!

The wait is over, so all of you who are training to be a member of the Tri Geek Dreams Team for '06 you click the team link below to shop.

Here is the link to buy the new totally geeked out swag!

Huge thanks to
Spence for designing the uni's and making Trimama into an action figure-I'll admit, that's fun.

It seemed like a good idea to have a girl geek-so hopefully this doesn't seem too Eva Peron-like (god, may I never be played by Madonna)

For those of you of the darker hair-or for that matter fully follicled- we'd be happy to send a sharpie (color of your choosing) if you want to avatar your geek-though I can't imagine why you would :)

I've got Pith!

Big changes in the works, but for now all I can say is

I've got Pith! or Pithy? Probably Pith. Hopefully the new stuff will be up and ready by Monday.

Swim today, bike 4.5 hours (outside) tomorrow, run 1:20 Sunday

Have a good one!


Thursday, March 30, 2006

Inquire no longer...

It's great to have wise and informed friends in the blogosphere. The "politely crazy" Habeela offered this analysis:
Regarding the falsies here are some densities to compare:
fat=900 kg/mL
muscle=1060 kg/mL
silicon=2330 kg/mL
salt water=between 1020-1030 kg/mL
water=1000 kg/mL

Michelle Lombardo: Advanatage? Disadvantage?

You decide. Oh, and in the event you failed high school chemistry, the most dense subject sinks. You throw out a blond joke here and I slap you upside the head.

Trihubby's tooth came out with much pain and anquish, requiring 3 stitches and the take home orders of "no rigorous activity" for 24 hours. Poor Trihubby, all that pain and no ability to take comfort from Trimama. This whole tooth thing has really been an unwelcome hinderance to our marriage.

Speaking of marriage, Trihubby's folks celebrate 55 years today! Happy Anniversary Mom and Dad!

Last night was a 55 minute sprint/hill spin on the trainer. Today should be a swim/run but time is going to be tight.

The first thunderstorm of the year last night was awesome, but I want sunshine and outdoor biking. This weekend calls for 4.5 hours of bike and 1:20 run- bring on the sun!

Tuesday, March 28, 2006

I hit the wall today, twice

But not the metaphorical runner's wall-no, I hit the 4ft retaining wall that borders our driveway-twice. Can we all say, "depth perception"? Apparently I have none. Bumpers are overrated, so...oh, and Trihubby doesn't know yet. He's been nursing a killer abcess in his tooth-I think I'll let another day of antibiotics pass before trying to explain that one. The molar comes out tomorrow night and from what we understand that should spell the end of the pain.

I've been challenged to create a pithy little saying that encapsulates my triathlon credo, here are a few that landed on the drawing room floor.

Are falsies legal?

As I worked my way through 2700 yards today it occured to me that my chest floats. That made me wonder if it would have floated more when I was nursing-cool-advantage Trimama. That led to me thinking about meeting Jessie Stensland and an inquiry as to whether her flight deck was fully loaded. I don't track that type of stats on athletes, but I have no doubt that her fellow competetor was "enhanced" . So, would silicon give an unfair advantage? I mean, beyond the bar scene. Do falsies lend more buoyancy that would make for an unfair advantage in the swim? Inquiring minds want to know.

At this point I will assure one and all that I am not drunk nor was I drunk when I hit the wall or while I was thinking about buoyancy.

Disclaimer over

I hate pig butt!

No, not the recent favorite food of The Tribe, but rather that of the swim lane hogs that jump in your side of the lane and always seem to be standing on the ledge when you arrive so you run into them. There is just nothing worse than arriving at the wall three strokes from your last breath only to encounter technicolor booty. Oh, except perhaps running dead on into black banana hammock. Please tell me that's not some bizzre pervert angle-standing around in the shallow end of the lap lane hoping for a nasty grab. Someone is going to get hurt-that's all I'm saying.

No passing on the left

I've been contemplating my fluid intake and output during exercise and have decided: on the swim, yes, on the bike, no. I understand that some guys possess the uncanny ability for directional output on the bike, therefore--No Passing on the Left!!! and for that matter, the next person who spits on my shoe during a run is getting a wedgie.


aka "Ta Ta For Now", which is currently emblazoned on the back pocket of my tri club uniform. A little overly optimistic if you ask me, unless it stands for "Trimama taking forever now"

I think it's back to the drawing board-

I have a short 60 minute bike spin incorporating hills, followed by a 45 minute "pretty" run scheduled for tomorrow. Taking a cue from Pink, "I don't wanna be a stupid girl" I think I will run "pretty" on the trails through the woods-probably with The Tribe in tow, so it will be a stop at the manual car wash on the way home.


Monday, March 27, 2006

I did it! I did it! I did it!

And this post has nothing to do with the port a potty and Kashi-that's why I entered two posts in one day-I didn't want to confuse my reading public.

What I did was to ride my bike 4 hours and fifteen minutes. On Saturday. On the dreaded trainer. But I did it! I've never ridden a bike that long in my life.

I didn't think I could do it. I almost didn't rationalizing that there was no way in "H E double hockey sticks" I wanted to sit on a trainer for four hours. But a four hour ride was in "THE PLAN" so ride on we did. We because The Tribe joined me in watching a movie and watching the snowy rain fall.

Hour one was moderate output-I'd say 15mph.
Hour two increase pace to 16 mph.
Hour three increase pace to 16.5-17 mph.
Into the great unknown and hour four 17-18 mph with hill sprints worked in for fun.

I have this psychological container in my head that tells me I am not an endurance athlete, I am a sprinter.

A four hour spin is a fairly decisive blow to that container. I suppose you could say it's a few more logs in the fire that forges the iron.

Yea me.

Happiness is a Port a Potty when the Kashi kicks in

Somehow I doubt that sentiment makes it onto anyone's sidebar motivational quotes, but we all know it's true. It was very true for me at mile 10 of 17 yesterday. Dang. My training plan called for a 2.5 hour run. That's a little vague in my book. Depending on your speed, that could cover 2 miles or 26.2. For me it was 17 miles in 2:40. Because that is the other problem, how do you run 2.5 hours. If you run out 1.25 you don't necessarily arrive home in 1.25.

It is smile season in Minnesota. Weatherbug said 47, the bank thermometer read 51, the smiles read spring. The nordic folk are emerging from their lairs and stuffy gyms and bringing it outdoors, and that makes us smile. No matter how curmudgeonly you are, you smile at your neighbor today. I ran down to and around Minneapolis' main chain of lakes. They were packed-it was great. Plenty of bikers with road streak up their back, one little guy flew kamikaze through a puddle I was passing and I had to dive out of the way to avoid a mud bath. That made me smile. It made the two girl friends running towards us laugh. We all laughed, because it was spring. At mile 11 my legs were beginning to wonder why I was running 2.5 hours today-stupid training plan. But then I was passed by a pair of greyhounds-lean racing machines. I blinked as I brushed shoulders with the owner of two more, and two more and than three more. A pack of greyhounds, a beauty to behold. My legs felt lighter and I ran on. I ran by a mom with a little guy who was laboring on his training wheels to make it up a hill. He was giving up as I passed, so I slowed and yelled encouragement alongside him, he grunted and strained his way up the hill and we all smiled.

My ipod was perfectly in sync with the day: as it should be moron-you programmed it. I have no idea why that amazes me in spite of the obvious. One flaw with ipod, it never seems to hit the Get your geek on! podcast, so I'll have to catch up on that and Simply Stu on my bike ride today.

Happiness is also running towards a grocery store when your stomach informs you at mile 14 that you did not eat nearly enough through the morning to support a 2.5 hour run. I was starving and we needed groceries so I called Trihubby so that he could pick me up at the grocery store.

Bizarre is "Another one bites the dust" queue ing on the ipod in the struggling last blocks where all nutrition has evaporated and you've sucked your flasks inside out dry. I refuse to die in the driveway of a warehouse grocery store-click next.

Happiness is arriving home with bags in tow and assisting the Tribe in building the largest strawberry-whipped cream-mini M&M-Chocolate Kiss-angelfood cakes for dinner.

Fresh Strawberries.

Smile world, it's spring.

Saturday, March 25, 2006

More choices

Ok, on the grand scale of things this probably doesn't rank among the top decision dilemma but it might be close.
A couple days ago two things landed in my email box Seems that both
Nashbar andPerformance are having a two-fer sale on bike tires. I really need new bike tires.


Victoria's Secret is also having a Spring clothing sale, and this outfit caught my eye. Follow along if you will.

Summer, hot/humid/steamy/pool/beach/kids/garden/landscaping/dirty/sweaty. Then late in the afternoon: shower/cool/clean/feminine/sexy/cocktails/credenza/relax in the shade watching the sunset.

See what I mean? It's a tough choice.

Thursday, March 23, 2006

Why are you all dressed up?

Questioned Hyphen Girl yesterday morning.

This means that Trimama was:

A) dressed to the nines in her little black dress and heels


B) sitting at the computer, hair in braids donning dry weave race shirt and running tights.

The answer is "B". Turns out Hyphen Girl was thrown by my hair in "race day" braids.

It seemed the most comfortable attire to wear under the Haz Mat suit I'll be putting on later to clean your brother's room. If you have boys no futher explanation is required, if not think "B" horror movie. I'm not exactly sure what advances in science were anticipated by wrapping an apple in a pair of underware and shoving it under the bed, nor did I care as I threw the entire mess, observation log and all in the garbage.

This was the first massive purge, call it spring cleaning, post Christmas. It is the type of work that will compell me to swear off Christmas as we know it and use all present money to rent a cabin in the woods for a weekend of sledding and ice skating. I'd even take snow mobiling over the boxes of miscellany which accumulate from the 100 piece pirate set, of which 75 pieces remain unused (the ship was the only cool part) or the 60 piece "young scientist" set. The irony is that Standing Long Jump loves a clean room. He inevitably returns home on room cleaning days, runs joyfully upstairs and sprawls on the expanse of clean carpet, spontaneously erupting in snow angels on the floor. The mystery of how to keep that wide open space eludes him however, as his brain simply cannot grasp what a clothes hamper is for. Attention future wife, I'm trying, I really am.

Two hours later, with the air quality returned to "breatheable" I was able to get in a 70 minute spin on the trainer. I currently have a spring dilemma regarding my bike tires. The fly wheel of the trainer has left my back tire smooth as Trihubby's head and I need to replace it before heading outdoors. We are in this precarious mix of creeping warmth (yesterday got to 47) and receding cold (it's snowing this morning) which will continue well into April. So, do I deny my growing urge to ride outside, keep with the trainer and change the wheel once, or, do I use this season as a primer in wheel changing and go back and forth between outdoor and trainer wheel? What to do, what to do.

Move about 300 miles south.

There are some die hards out on the trails, but I can't invest in what amounts to a cycling snow mobile suit right now.

I might break down though, as I have a four hour ride on the training plan for Saturday.

Hope everyone's training weeks are going well-
Have a good one.

Tuesday, March 21, 2006

...and the ties that set you free

Two Sunday's past I embarked on my weekly long run. I headed east because east is flat and fast and simple. I knew when I passed the six mile mark in 47 minutes that this was no ordinary run. It was a run intended to exhaust anger. I can generally gauge the weight of my thoughts by how quickly the shield of anger breaks down into the grimace of angst at the heart of the issue. I never hit angst, because east is running away. East is "I have enough on my plate and for right now I simply need clarity and sanity." Passing the six mile mark for the second time at 1:34 was my first inclination that the upcoming week was going to be mentally rigourous. And as I shared, it was. Abundant thanks to all of you for your expressions of concern and sympathy, they meant a lot.

I completed that post and set off for another long run, only this time I headed west. West is hilly and muddy and challenging. West is burdensome and slow, west is distraction and getting lost and cutting through the woods and realizing that ventilated running tights and low rise socks aren't the greatest apparel when the snow rises to your swim suit area. West is finding the path again and cruising over hills. West is an ipod randomly shuffled yet mysteriously landing on precisely the right songs at the right time. West is traveling back to a storage locker when the door is finally opened by the older sister who for all intents and purposes was really the mom. West is remembering the deeply penitent heart that took responisibility for being such a lousy kid and fully deserving of wrathful imprisoment. West is building the fire, making dinner, nursing the hangover, and acting like nothing had happened. West is FUCK YOU. West is realizing that eleven years of estrangement and withholding grandchildren was intended as punishment. Separation is punishment and punishment leads to repentance. West is realizing the stone cold heart of a beast that could lock an eight year old in a storage locker in a basement has no room nor will for repentance. West is relinquishing the idea that behavior good or otherwise can change the heart of beast. West is learning to accept that it's ok when cruel and awful want nothing to do with you. West is rewiring a brain that is waiting for a beast to open a door, west is opening it yourself. West is understanding that the seeds of nurturing and warmth and tenderness planted in the midst of evil will yield a great return of fruit of contentment and peace and joy when reaped in an environment of love. West is lighter and freer.

Eventually west turns east and heads towards home. Home is love and waffles with strawberries and cream. Home is giggles and "mom's home!!!!!!!!!!!!" Home is "mom smells good, that's why everyone wants to be close to her" well at least after the shower. Home is where family gathers and friends meet. Home is what makes the bad weeks worthwhile.

Just so long as those bad weeks remain rare :)

Thanks again all.

2500 yd swim and 45 minute hill run today-the forging of iron continues.

Sunday, March 19, 2006

The ties that bind, the ties that break; an honest moment with Trimama

Since therefore we are surrounded by so great a cloud of witnesses, let us also lay aside every weight, and sin which clings so closely, and let us run with endurance the race that is set before us...

I'm having a bad week. You wouldn't know it by looking at me, I don't tend to wear my heart on my sleeve. Rather, I guard it close, focus externally and keep the internal animal caged. To that end, I have no idea why exactly I'm writing this. Actually, I know exactly why I am writing this. 140.6 is a long way to travel. Beyond that, god willing 50 or so more years will be a long way to travel. I have a lot of weights to lay aside, and they are making me tired. Sometimes the best way to put aside weights is to shed some light into the darkest recesses of your mind. It's a difficult task to clean the attic when no one can see what they are doing. Sometimes it is useful to ask for some help.

And so, my training buddies, I'm having a bad week. A bad week is nightmares, and day terrors. It's a mind that won't stop, that won't settle. Its a chemical cocktail of trama and childhood nightmares that flood my brain and soul. The toughest thing about these weeks, which thank god are rare, is that I just want to hide in the corner of my room in a drunken stupor until the nightmares pass. So, if for no other reason I am thankful for training because training says "no alcohol except wine and light beer" therefore no drunken stupor. Well, and The Tribe deserves a sober, in tune mom. I love them, they are a gentle summer rain for a thirsty soul. I don't like drunken stupor, I don't really even like drunk. I like life. I'm thankful for the life I've been given. I suppose that is why I don't want to squander it on "poor me I'm a victim, feel sorry for me blah blah" But weeks like these are bad.

I haven't spoken to my own mother for 11 years. This makes me angry. It is my choice, but it makes me angry. It took just a small handful of "no, don't talk to me" to silence her. Within a year-silence. She has four grandkids that live ten miles away-silence for them too. Now this is the woman who use to beat me senseless and lock me in a locker in the basement for the night because I "pissed her off" and she wanted to sit around and get drunk with her friends. When you are 8 the first 15 minutes of hide and seek can be scary-wondering if the seeker will come looking for you. 15 hours is downright terrifying. Especially the second and third time, because you know what is coming. 8 year olds still don't do so well on the time space continuum-so there isn't much rational thought available. My own mom didn't look for me when I was 8, and 11 years of silence are a deafening reminder of why. The brain tends to store up a lot of that chemical and releases it at the most unwanted of times. Like when you are 38 and have four kids of your own. Then, in weeks like these, the chemicals get spilled, and the memories release, and you live somewhere between here and there, and you move forward in the midst of the present day's homework, and snow days and laundry and dinner, and the past day's bruises, and betrayal, and isolation and abandonment. All the while you focus forward. Focus on the race, knowing that a new day will come and there will be a little less chaos and a little more focus.

Focus is hard to come by in bad weeks. But I know to get to the end, I can't carry all of this.

I have to keep runninng in this race given to me and so

"Therefore lift your drooping hands and strengthen your weak knees, and make straight paths for your feet, so that what is lame may not be put out of joint but rather be healed. Strive for peace with everyone, and for the holiness without which no one will see the Lord. See to it that no one fails to obtain the grace of God; that no root of bitterness springs up and causes trouble."

When someone hurts you, be it intentionally or otherwise, they throw another weight around your neck to carry. Sometimes those weights are easy to lay aside, some things are easy to forgive. But sometimes the hurt cuts in with a jagged knife, and leaves ugly and infected. I had a crappy, cruel mom who left alot of jagged wounds. I'll be damned if I plan to carry her weights for 140.6, let alone 50 years. 38 is more than enough. So, in that alone, bad weeks have hope, because bad weeks tell you that there are wounds and weights. And the Creator who sent those words tell me there is healing and hope. I just need to get through this bad week and by his grace hopefully weigh a little less when I'm done. That would be some meaningful weight loss. (which is good because there is nothing quite like a pan of brownies when you are trying to avoid drunken stupor)

I have a 2.5 hour run to manage now, thanks for your ear

Thursday, March 16, 2006

Ok, my booty is sore

I had to change up my training plan for the week and move the 3:30 bike to today. Three and a half hours is a long time on a trainer. Then on to a meeting at work. "Bloodborne pathogens" and "chemicals-your right to know" zzzzzzzzzzz. Turns out our member that died passed away in the men's room. Is that a bad way to go? He was a good man who lived a full and energetic life. Talked through our emergency response as well as other work scenarios. Hardest one to call: what to do with the anoerexic who weighs maybe 70 pounds at 5'8". She dropped her weights with a crash a couple times while I was working on Monday. We can't tell her to quit killing herself one ounce at a time. We can't even retract her membership. What would you do?

We had another snow storm here-see Trimama--see Trimama's biceps grow. There is no core workout quite like shoveling wet March snow. March snow is the blanket of beauty that gives way to springs abundance of green. Better a blanket of white than a field of brown and gray. Oh, but do we want to get the bikes outside!!!!!!!!!!

Big swim/run tommorrow then 2 hour run Saturday.

Have a great weekend!

Tuesday, March 14, 2006

Racing Uniforms


Here is a link to the Sugoi website-this will give you an idea of what the blanks look like. Then we can screen a design on the back and legs and embroider your name or blog name on the front.

And no, I'm not color blind-and yes, I assume we would match the colors on the tops and bottoms.

Monday, March 13, 2006

Snow Day

When your normal 53 minute run loop takes you 47 minutes do you still get credit for a 1 hour run? Does it make a difference if you run the loop twice, each loop taking 47 minutes but you sort through the nuance and detail of life so that you arrive home mentally clearer and refreshed?

I did a 1:34 two hour run yesterday and I think it counts. Well almost. I'm trying to follow my training plan, so I tacked on 10 more minutes through the neighborhood at the end. Then added a bonus weight lifting/core/stretching time. So it's 2 hours*. * is so asinine.

I felt a sense of urgency with my run, a storm was moving in, and I shared that urgency with every cyclist/runner who knew the time of clear paths was short.

We awoke to this:
Snow Day!!!!!!!!

I beg your pardon, did you say something? You'll have to excuse my momentary deafness. My eardrum shattered with the exhultant shout of The Tribe when they saw their school posted in the list among those that are closed. In spite of living in the great white north, snow days are rare. We tend to get cold, not snow. Because cold pushes snow to the south. March is the month where snow fights back-and wins-momentarily. We have the sun on our side now though-

We'll be biking again next weekend.

I love spring

Friday, March 10, 2006

Mama Mia!

Load up the IPod folks, it's endurance time!

Listening to the sage advice of triathletes everywhere, I decided I needed a coach for this moumental season. However, they charge anywhere from $100-$300 a month. ouch! So I did the next best thing and went in for a virtual coach from Beginner Triathlete. At this site they have plans you can download for free, which is intitially great, but once you've equipped The Tribe with free plans you feel a little like the seniors who turn the doughnut samples at the grocery store into breakfast. So, I bought into the Silve Medal package, which I have officially dubbed the "Silver--kick your butt-go buy new skinnier jeans-medal workout". They say it is intended to get you across a half iron finish line feeling great. I was ready to settle for crawling-crawling is good.

After yesterday's rest day the week ends as follows:

3100 yd muscle endurance swim (you know the drill w/u then sets with lots of sprints and recovery)
1.5 hour on bike with the bulk at 75 rpm in big chain ring

Sat 3.5 hour bike (hopefully at least 2 will be outdoors! whoohoo!)

Sun 90 min run

The Tribe has the day off from school so we are going to the zoo this afternoon. I will be bringing both cameras.

BNB remains in mortal fear of hell, so we had a nice discussion about God while making oatmeal chocolate chip cookies yesterday. God must have been pleased because he allowed for the miracle that the cookies actually worked. In fact they were downright divine-and that has nothing to do with the 19 cups of butter and sugar the recipe called for. I am not a baker. Baking requires precision. Measurement. Sifting! Does anyone really sift their flour anymore? Anyone other than Martha's apprentice? You have to follow a recipe. Having aced food science in school I understand why my cookies flatten into black hockey pucks, I just never seem able to ammend the problem.

I am however, a chef. I cook well. Cooking is knowing flavors and textures, physical and chemical interaction and reaction. It's not measurement and precision, it's art and flair. It's flavor. You can actually taste what you are creating in process. Let's face it, cookie dough doesn't tell you much about the final state of the cookie. I cook by trial and error and generally things work out ok, at times downright wonderful.

The jury is still out on last nights meal. I embarked on a baked ziti adventure sans ziti noodles because we were out, so I substituted cheese filled tortellini. Added the spaghetti sauce and mozzerella and went to work on the salad. The cheeze had been in the freezer so it was taking time to melt. I built a fire, instructed The Tribe in setting the table and returned to the ziti. It was heating up, but still no melting. Increase heat, slice bread, call Tribe to table. Notice that heat has begun to reduce the starch of the tortellini to a gelatenous mess, yet still no melting. Decide not to tell Tribe that cheese must be so dried from freezer it is refusing to melt. Grab a handful of almonds and purposefully omit serving ziti to myself. Consider calling Papa John's, but it is getting late. Add bowl of applesauce to table to distract from cheese dilemma. Yes that makes four kingly choices for dinner. Decide to sample ziti, wouldn't want the Tribe to suffer food poisoning from freezer dried cheese. There is something familiar about this cheese. It's a little starchy. Eating, eating.

Hashbrowns! That wasn't mozzrella, that was hashbrowns! So, we had cheese torellini hash brown ziti for dinner last night.

Martha would be appalled.

Emeril would be proud.

The Tribe walked away full and that's what counts.

Turn up the IPod and have a great weekend!

Wednesday, March 08, 2006

From Hell to Heaven:the ascent of a 5 year old

But first, I have to say I love my husband for many reasons-but here is today's greatest highlight. We have been planning and discussing who and how for Florida in November. From the start of these discussions he has maintained that he only wants the girls to go because it is beyond difficult to navigate the 140.6 with 4 kids in tow. (can't say that I blame him) That means leaving half The Tribe at home-which is essentially leaving half of my heart at home. In my mind they are all going through the training, through the "mom's not home she is training" through the stress, through the planning, so in my mind they should all go with me through the finish line. I can't invision a happy finish line with the boys missing. However, our budget can't imagine 7 plane tickets (a sitter would be essential) 3 hotel rooms, meals, bike transport, etc. There was just really little chance of making it happen.

"We could drive to Florida. Molly's family drives when they go on vacation" announces Hyphengirl.

That would be tough race prep for Trimama.

We have one free plane ticket right now. We could drive for the cost of perhaps two more tickets. I could fly down Tuesday and Trihubby and The Tribe could drive down, arriving Thursday. Nephew, who is super cool companion to Trihubby could drive with The Tribe. Trimama, who will benefit greatly from sitting for a few days after the race could drive home with The Tribe and let Nephew fly home. All very doable.

You would do that for me?

"I'm doing a lot of things for you this year."

Yes, but none greater than this. Thanks Trihubby.

Now, on to hell.

Curiously, Bucknakedboy has been quite fascinated by the concept of hell and the devil of late. Apparantly there is a little fire and brimstone lad in his kindergarten class who has explained the whole concept to him. Surprisingly, along with the inevitable little "sex talk" I thought I would be the one to first illuminate the underworld for him. Ayudame Dios! They just keep learning these things younger and younger. Such is the nature of our educational system these days; forget snickering about human reproduction in the halls, that would be old school, heaven and hell are the new avant-garde.

"Are we going to hell? I think we are going to hell now."

No, BNB, the helixical descent of the parking ramp is not sending us to hell. At least not today.

"Are you sure, because it looks like hell down there."

Yes, I'm fairly certain that the River Center parking garage is not the gateway to hell, I think they hid that under Macy's.

Even now I'm not so sure he is convinced. He asked me on the way to grandma's house if he would go to hell if the car crashed right now. Note to self: find out who he is sitting by at school and seek to have them expelled. (oh just kidding)

We did manage to escape hades labyrinthe, which curiously had only "1/2" floors on it's elevator 2 1/2, 3 1/2 etc. and found ourselves in 60,000 square feet of convention center space.

I'm going to die right now! I'm in heaven and I'm going to die right now!

We had found our way into 5 year old train lover nirvana. The greatest hobby on earth.

N scale, HO scale, O scale, Thomas, Leggos, you name the train they had it on display.
plus a Thomas play area, plus a real train that we got to ride, plus mini doughnuts. What more could you ask for?
The coolest display in my mind was the 1 million or so leggos used to build a town with working train, underground subway and super goofy "secret windows" throughout. One of the windows had Michael Morre and a film crew at the scene of a toxic waste spill where HAZMAT workers stepped over the skeletal remains of co workers in an attempt to confine the mess. Another hole held an alien invasion in progress. But perhaps the most humor from Homer himself.

If you are too young to know-rent "Soylent Green" and consume with a six pack of very cheap beer.

1:20 rpe 7 spin yesterday 60 minute run with friend today

Happy Training.


Monday, March 06, 2006

My lack of posting is disgraceful

So says Trihubby. I would agree except that I got a standing ovation tonight at dinner when I announced I did an entire load of socks in the laundry today. They applauded clean socks. I'll knock em dead with clean underware tomorrow. Suffice to say, it's been somewhere beyond busy here in the last several weeks, here are a few things I've learned:

1) I despise Intuit. In particular the support folks who said the integration of '03 software would be seamless into the '05 version and across the pc to mac platform have earned my ire. How much faith can you put in a software company that seems incapable of integrating their own support/sales/distribution system. Hence the disk I desperately needed to access all '05 payroll data on 02/03 did not arrive until 03/03-in spite of the weekly promise that it would arrive by Friday.

2) Yes it is better to compile and process every paycheck of a weekly payroll system so that you meet the filing deadline than to spend the prime of the Tribe's youth in tax evasion prison. Gee, I wonder if Intuit will refund me for my 12 hours of accounting madness that should have taken 15 minutes?

3) I am a Tri shopping whore- while there was no fashion show at the VIP sale at MLT shop, I will indulge in my own runway- I spent way too much money. Oh, but was it good!

4) Working for Trihubby is a rewarding yet time consuming way to indulge #3

5) I was glad to be working for Trihubby Saturday instead of taking the open shift at the Y. One of our members had a heart attack which was most likely fatal-the AED did not revive his heart and the para's were even reduced to compressions-not a good sign. I admit-it's selfish, but I just don't have the brain reserves to deal with a guy dying under my hands right now.

So, now reading back, I deleted 6-8 they seemed petty and stupid next to the last sentence

9) enough for now, need to tuck The Tribe into bed and read what is going on in the remainder of the blogosphere.

Thursday, March 02, 2006

When the hammer falls

"No discipline seems pleasant at the time, but painful. Later on, however it produces right living and peace for those who have been trained by it."

Trimama had to bring the hammer down last night on Soapinator and Hyphen Girl. Not the simple little taps of instruction and course correction, but the full on tearing of the universe hammer down. Discipline is without a doubt the most troubling aspect of parenting. I don't like being disciplined by life, I know my girls don't like being disciplined, so I would love to soften the hammer. But then they would never learn. They wouldn't grow and develop into the young ladies I expect them to become. This present culture is already presenting seemingly insurmountable obstacles to this end, so the fight goes on. Suffice to say, it was a quiet ride home last night, and lots of tears. No computer, no television, no phone. 24 hours. And anger, mom's anger. And broken relationship. Then the talks and forgiveness in the morning-and yes the grounding is still in place after school- I didn't forget.

The days are lengthening, and the buds are debuting, storing up all their latent energy, ready for that initial burst of spring, and the bikes are being tuned up, and the teams have reported for spring training, and tourney time is in the air, and trihubby is working another night, so some fresh air time at the park was in order, and mud facials and dirty boots and cold hands, and pigbutt potato soup for dinner, and conversation. And the hole in the universe was repaired.

I completed another round of registrations for races this morning. Gulp. There is a part of me training for an ironman by way of two half iron races and that part seems so incredibly detached from the part that registered for one almost olympic distance race in July. Gulp. How can I possibly be gulping at a 1/2 mile swim, 21 mile ride and 5.2 run. Because my experienced side is gulping. The ironman side is so distinctly different, so inexperienced, that they don't dance very well with each other. I doubt they ever will. There is such a colossal difference between training to compete and training to race well and finish. And I had to write my race day age, and I still find that shocking, I always will because the part of me that trains still feels 21. And I registered my 12 and almost 10 year old for their first triathlons and so as SLJ accurately reported, we can now be called the Tri Tribe. and I am Trimama. Except at Beginner where that username has already been claimed. Sometimes the world is simply too small.

60 minute tempo run tomorrow followed by weights and core.