It's 5 am, do you know where your butt butter is?

What a weekend! It's been up to 95 degrees, 50-60% humidty and winds gusting to 30 mph. A perfect Florida training ground. My training plan for the weekend called for a 3:30 ride with a 20 min run, and a 3600 swim and a 1:20 hilly run. Trihubby and I started the weekend early with a mid morning open water swim at boob beach. The weekend hadn't officially started yet, so the beach was empty with the exception of a couple of moms with kids. Buck naked Boy came along and played in the sand while we swam. This beach is a perfect training locale, with clear water and a 120 yard swim lane that never tops 4.5 feet. The water temp was about 63 degress and a little painful at first, but we warmed up fast. We covered about 1500 yards or so. By Saturday, when we brought The Tribe over for a cool down swim, the water temp had jumped several degrees, and apparantly word is out about boob beach, because it was teeming with testosterone laden, tight bod, eye candy, which was nice, if you're into that sort of thing :) There is a hook up beach on the other side of the lake, which is typically where all the skin is on display; I really hope this isn't the start of a migration. It's nice to have a family friendly locale. Ironically, the gay beach is adjacent to the playground beach, so going there can be a crap shoot. It's difficult enough to keep The Tribe civil when they see a guy and a girl in the throes of passion, there is no point in trying when it's two guys, it's akin to seeing someone streak naked.

Saturday morning dawned early with a 3:30 bike planned. Trihubby rode out with me for the first 9 miles, I love having him as a training partner- Then I was on my own. I pushed the pace out to the lake where my half is on June 10th, then followed the race course which is currently marked out in spray paint arrows. I'm glad to have the opportunity to train on the course, there are some surprises out there I wouldn't want to hit on race day. There is one turn in particular at the bottom of a hill you hit going 27 mph easily, warning to the wise, slow down or you shoot right past the turn. This course is great as it goes by lakes and horse farms, with a great wide shoulder to ride, and plenty of small towns to re fuel in. The wind began to kick up, and I hit Wayzata (that's Why-zeta, not Way-zata for you 90210 fans) at 3:40 and 62 miles (oops, overshot the turn around by five miles), not being one to over train, I called Trihubby to come and pick me up.

Yes I am a wuss, but I was still 7 miles from home.

Now here is the quirky thing, the cyclometer read 58 miles and the Garmin read 62. I think my cyclometer is set for 700 and my bike has 650's- would that account for the discrepency?

Talk about your jack up tan lines, I have a permanant, "My gosh that woman does not know how to apply make up" white line from the chin strap of my bike helmet- yea me. Thanks for pointing that out Hyphen Girl.

Payback is a be-otch though. Guess who stepped up to the dunk tank at the Memorial day party when HG was on the platform? One pitch.

Strike!!!! The hapless Twins should be calling any day :) Go Trimama Go!

Sunday dawned hot and even windier, so I waited until 8 that night to go run. It was 92 when I set out and 87 when I returned.

Somewhere out on the run it occured to me that I should race with Trihubby next weekend at Buffalo. I think the heat was affecting my judgement.

Buffalo is Sunday. Liberty is the following Saturday. Two races in less than a week?

Here is my thinking: I'm supposed to swim 4000, bike 2:30 and 30 min run as a final big training Saturday. I think doing an Olympic course is a suitable substitute. It will give me a chance to boost my swimming confidence, the bike is a hilly 24 miles and the run is a 10K. Plus, Chris Leigh and
Natasha Badman are racing with us little people. So, that is worth the price of admission. Plus the swag bag rocked last year.

So, while I'd love to spank this course the way it spanked me last year, I'm going to use it as a training "c" race to get my nutrition finalized, clinch the open swim confidence, and most importantly, finish a race longer than a sprint prior to doing a half freakin ironman.

I'll have five days to taper, so we're good

I hope.

Oh yea, I completed the weekend training by swimming 2500 at boob beach Monday morning.

I think we're ready.

Let's get it on!

God bless those who've gone before, for us

Emancipation of the pebbles

I hereby and forthwith declare the emancipation of all river rock pebbles from La Casa Trimama!

Blank stares.

Crikets chirping.

Keep the d@*# pepples in the playground.

Ooooooohhhhhhhhhhhh.

The Tribe has been doing their own Shawshank impersonation of late, attempting to burrow from the confines of their educational prison via the playground I suppose. Hang in their kids, only 10 days remain.

I find pebbles on the floor, in the laundry, in pants pockets, in shoes, in underware, and my personal favorite in ears. How did you get a pebble in your ear Buck Naked Boy?

SLJ did it to me.

Goodness it's going to be a long summer.

Actually I did that once, I mean I stuck a pebble in my ear. (you can hang up with social services now) I was trying to do a magic trick that somehow involved hiding something in your ear, I chose a pebble. Never told my mom either, it was in there for weeks. It was my first crack at faith, the thing actually came out while I was praying during mass. That certainly helped to move the notion of the Almighty along.

"Our Father who art in heaven, hallowood be thy name, Please help me get this rock out of my ear, thy will be done, and I'll be nice to my sister forever, give us this, hey, it came out! ...amen."

The being nice to my sister lasted until we got home, but I never stuck another pebble in my ear, and I learned it's best not to make promises you have absolutely no chance of keeping.

Hyphen girl is away at enviromental camp for the week. Enviromental camp is a smarmy way of saying, whoo hoo no school for the week. They go through various classes in ecology, biology, bugs, birds, etc, but there are no textbooks, and no tests. I stopped by for a few hours today and followed along on the river hike. We wound down and around and over paths to the river, and knowing I would need to back track alone because I had to leave early, I paid careful attention to where I was going. At least I thought I did. I decided to return by way of running and managed to get lost. Not lost like Lost, lost, but more like, I have no idea how to go back the way I came, lost. I could hear the road though, so I caught a path towards it and made my way back via black top. Oooops.

It is sickly humid here today. It's the kind of humid where you don't sweat, you sponge-and you reach equilibrium like a sponge-not a great exercise day. With lower temps it's not dangerous, but it doesn't feel so great either. A storm should pass through tonight.

Life with puppy is going well-I'll find my camera and download some pics soon.

Uber training weekend again-time to really key in on nutrition

Have a great one!

Hey, your epidermis is showing

Where do kids learn to bug each other with these things?

This is a photo I snapped last summer, it's one of my favorites. I went swimming in a local lake yesterday. The temp was somewhere between that and this

but I had just run two laps of the lake, n/s on the second. Trihubby worked the weekend and took the day off, so we met at the lake. The first lap was a moderate tempo warmup around the lake that seems to attract a disproportionate number of mostly naked coeds, and since the female population was heavily favored, I was a little suspect as to why Trihubby suggest we meet at this lake.

The second lap was a "stride" run meant to reach LT for several minutes than drop speed and let your heart rate lower. Trihubby was supposed to just run at race pace minus something, so he went on ahead. I then had the advantage of following his tight little boot-tay around the lake, which quickly became a game. He'd run out ahead for a distance, then I would accelerate to catch and "tag" him. The first time I tagged him he was taken by surprise, but he quickly warmed up to the game. and of course he was going to make me pay if I wanted to tag him, so he accelerated. Lucky for me there were enough boobs around to distract even the pope himself, and I caught him again. We continued that regimen around the lake and it made for a good pace time. We ended at the swim beach which was just too tempting. I jumped in for a moment just to "ice" my legs and decided to swim a few laps.

Trihubby decidedd to remain on the beach with the boobs. It might just be my opinion, but he missed out.

We grabbed a salad for lunch and I had to head home, but surprise, Trihubby went back to boob beach.

To his great credit, Trihubby is an honorable man who has always treated me with great respect and used good discretion when it comes to these things,

but I swear if he runs too many times around that lake, I'm going to Ebay Stella and go in for a Dolly upgrade. (For you younger folks, that would be a P.S. Anderson upgrade-and that gal has a lot of PS)

Tri season is in full swing so take some time to cruise around the blogs-there are some great race reports out there.

Great job Bolder, Nancy, Triathlete Bridget and Commodore just to name a few.

I've got 17 days until my first half iron--so Train Trimama, Train!



Link

I admit it, I'm a doubting Thomas

I had a 4000 yd swim this morning. That's twelve twelves. At least that is how I break it down. Life is more doable in neat little packages like that. I love to swim laps. For the most part it's simple now. Stroke, breathe, stroke, breathe etc etc turn stroke breathe etc. I swam next to a polar bear this morning, or at least that is what the mass of white beer belly looked like with each breath towards the west wall (I really need to learn to not laugh underwater, but the guy had big paw like hands and he swam just like a polar bear). Water has a way of distorting my vision, yet when I swim things can become so clear. I've been in an odd funk these last several weeks, which for you explains the sporadic posting. But, my mind has been preoccupied.

About four weeks ago we received a disconcerting email, "please remember to pray for Henry, he's been passing blood." With periodic medical updates, that message progressed to "please remember to pray for Henry, he has colon cancer"
Cancer?
Henry?
Henry can't have colon cancer, that means he might die. People die from colon cancer. Good people die from colon cancer. and Henry is one of the truly good people that I know. He would blush, and he would deny that, and he would say the only good inside him is what the good Lord put there. And that is exactly what makes him such a rock, a plesant stream in a life of fiery troubles, because he is just full of the kind of things that the good Lord puts there. If my faith is my foundation, and Trihubby is my constant fortress, then Henry and his lovely wife (my good friend) are the gatekeepers of the wall that surrounds my soul. They are the cheerleaders, and the encouragers, they are wise and they are kind and most importantly, they have just "been there". For years. The idea of Henry not "being there" sent my mind into tilt.

By God's good grace, "Henry has cancer" progressed to "Henry's cancer hasn't perforated the colon wall" to "the surgery went just fine, able to remove the whole mass laproscopically" to "the 40 some biopsies taken were all clear" to "you're doing well, Henry, you can go home now--cancer free"

For some reason my mind got stuck on "Henry has cancer" and that means he might die. Even though he has been home from the hospital for almost two weeks. I didn't really expect it to be so, but my faith was shaken, and it just hadn't had time to catch up with reality. My vision was distorted.

So I swam this morning. The greatest thing about my swim this morning is that Henry's doctor had cleared him to aqua jog, so he came with me. Each time I would pause at the wall, I'd look over and see Henry running along in the other lane. Just like he does outdoors, I'm sure he was meditating and praying. Lap after lap passed, and every so often I would catch a glimpse of legs running through the water and it occured to me that it was finally ok to believe Henry was ok. I didn't have to doubt anymore.



And now, if you'll excuse me, I need to go run for two hours, and cry. Because Henry is going to be ok.

My goodness, spring is busy

Happy Mother's Day!

I am posting worm. (flogging continues) Trihubby has duly chastised me for not posting more frequently, stating I have some "good" material to post on.

Great, I've become blog comic relief for Trihubby.

You might as well know, I crashed my bike yesterday. Going zero. In my basement. On my trainer.

Don't ask.

We had a lovely mom's day, complete with brunch at one of the finest tequila establishments on earth (110 varieties) and I partook in nary a drop. In spite of Hyphen Girl's bating. Tequila and training do not mix-although, could you do worse than crashing your bike on your trainer? I'm sticking with my sworn oath and training regimen. Which plans for a rest day today, but I think I will get in a light bike ride, since the trainer spin was uninspiring.

The schedule heats up at the end of the week with a 3:30 bike and a 4000 yd swim on Friday and a 2 hour run on Saturday. A perfect antidote to my Friday evening freak out as I contemplated doing a half iron in 4 weeks having never completed a full olympic distance race. But, now we're all good.

Thursday I go to pick up the newest member of our family- I guarantee this will be the most loved dog in the world.

Have a good one

How's your training going?

"How's your training going?" queried Iron Jenny, my faithful, always smiling training partner, who coincidentally is enroute to Ironman Brazil at months end.



Well, I started epic ride #2 on Monday by gluing my helmet to my hand. For those of you not so intrepid bikers allow me to school you in the reality that helmet hand makes riding a little precarious. For starters, the helmet is generally meant to protect your head in the case of a crash, which it can only effectively do if it is on your head. I have quick reflexes, but I doubt even I could flip my lid in flight to save my skull. Second, helmet hand makes shifting an Edwards Scissorhands beee--otch.

So, out comes the X-acto knife.

Trimama, how in biker god's name did you glue your helmet to your hand?

In the interest of safety I bought a little mirror for my lid.

(which for the record is the freakiest damn thing ever invented; the cars look like they are coming at you sideways)

The little mirror comes with a double stick adhesive tape which I used to mount said mirror to said lid. But, my moron chip must have failed that day, because I stuck the adhesive to a sticker- which tore away and left said mirror dangling towards my shoulder.

Out comes the super glue, (which is God's second greatest adhesive tool given to man, just short of duct tape, which would not work in this situation because little wispy strands of hair would stick and pull away as I ride. I don't want bike helmet pattern baldness at this stage of my illustrious career.) and I applied several generous drops to the mounting platform. A quick calculation of surface tension and adhesive volume would have told me that the glue was going to exceed the platform surface area, but alas, my mind was on epic bike ride and not quantum physics. (yes I know quantum is about chaos and all that- my point exactly)

So, voila! my hand is now stuck to my helmet.

I did complete epic bike ride #2 travelling 68.25 miles in 4 hours and 18 minutes. I covered a little over 34 miles in the first 2 hours which was fantastic for me, particularly because it was a windy, gusty day. Now that my mind has accepted the distance, it seems my legs are strengthening to meet the challenge. Although my knees were a little freaky the next day and my neck muscles froze up from aero-ing in the wind (I think).

When I asked my Local Bike Shop guy about the soreness he stated flatly,

"you have a big head" "all that weight is pulling down on your shoulder muscles"

I beg to differ, my head is perfectly proportional to the rest of my body, and any moron who could glue their helmet to their hand is at no risk of having a metaphorically big head. I prefer to think the sore shoulders is concrete proof that there is more upstairs then air.

Finally, I read in a recent fitness mag that floating in water is a good way to loosen sore muscles. I had a 1300 yd recovery swim yesterday, in the midst of which I used the pull buoy and floated in the water for several minutes between sets. Simply wonderful. What Hyphen Girls pincer like hands couldn't massage away, the water loosened-give it a try.

Hour-twenty ride today and hopefully some running with track work tomorrow.

Until then-have a sunny one.

Inspiring, Mr. Smith

There's "Breaking Away"
and Rocky, Rocky 2 and heck, Rocky 3
There's "The Mighty Ducks" and "Miracle on Ice"
and my personal favorite "Chariots of Fire" So what inspirational movie does Trihubby bring home on the inaugural eve of our 2006 tri season?

Isn't that a movie about competing assassin spouses who race against time to see who can off the other first? I admit to being ever so slightly competitive with Trihubby, but this might be taking things a little far. I mean, loosening the elastic of his running shorts to slow him down is one thing, but going Smith is a little extreme I think,

In the off chance that this was no mere Freudian slip, the life insurance documents are under the...

Check that, if Mr. Smith wins he'll just have to live without the money. I'll be contacting John Edwards in a few years to let The Tribe know how I'm doing and instruct Hyphen Girl in how to cash in on the annuity.

Mr. "I do this because Trimama makes me" Smith must have been feeling rather perky come race morning, he finished in the top 10 in his 30-39 age group and top 25 overall.

Seriously, I'm proud of the ol Trihubby. He has trained really hard and the training is paying off. I think if I make him work just a little more in the "chase each other around the room" time trials, he ought to be able to drop his run times even more.

Congrats to all you racers this weekend! Iron Wil, Curly Sue, Robo Stu, Tri Buddah, and all the etc. we love and admire.

Long, hard training week that kicks off with a 4.5 hour bike and 15 min run- gosh I hope it doesn't rain.

Anyone who feels so inspired, please feel free to email Trihubby with a selection of favorite pre race movies.

Laces out, Dan!

Upon completing the massive yard clean up ritual of spring on Monday, I came to the conclusion that we needed a new table for the back patio. The only bad part about triathlon is that it greatly reduces my garden budget, and suspending a slab of particle board between two tri bikes is not exactly what I envisioned for this space. I have several "spaces" in my yard, and this is the one dedicated to morning coffee and contemplation. Trihubby needed another set of hands at work this afternoon, so I volunteered with the presumption that he would buy me my table. I now have space, because of course I went to Target before meeting him at his work site.

He warned me that the homeowner was a bit of a Packer's fan. A "bit" is an understatement comparable to saying Lance is a good biker. All I can say is Laces out, Dan!
To protect the privacy of the homeowner I didn't take, nor would I post pics of this monolithe of Packer worship, suffice to say, it was creepy. 1000 square feet of green and yellow. Emblems on walls, cutouts of favorite players in every corner, murals of Lambeau, collages of years of tailgating and several thousands of dollars of merchandise, including his seats from the original Lambeau before makeover. I can't imagine Canton surpassing this place. So, of course if I return I'll have to leave a copy of my paper from Super Bowl XXXII. One thought, 31-24, Broncos.

Before any of you feel compelled to site Jake et al, give me a break. I live in a town that currently owns 4 sports teams none of whom are capable of beating the local high school in their respective sports. The Twins disgraced themselves with a 33-2 outing last weekend. It's been a long dry spell for Trimama since XXXII. Which would be the upside to triathlon, I don't have time to really pay attention currently.

Trihubby races a sprint tomorrow-yes I am envious. This was the inagural race of my rookie year, last year. It's a great venue with a pool swim and a friendly bike and run. I took 10th a/g and 25th overall-no doubt I could improve on that but racing will have to wait until next year. This year is exclusively about going long. With 5 weeks to Liberty 70.3, I have a 2 hour run and a 4.5 hour bike to get in this weekend-there will be no sleeping in for Trimama.

Onward then, and have a nice, safe weekend

Hey guys wait up!

Buck Naked Boy spends most of his life running to catch his older brother and sisters. A course of sheer frustration wrought with the reality that the only time he succeeds is when they slow down and wait for him. Unlike his sometimes gracious and patient siblings, life seldom slows and rarely waits. The faster we run to catch up, the more likely we are to trip on our shoelaces, which for me are universally un tied. Like BNB, I came into this world with my shoelaces flailing and flopping, threatening to send me headlong, and I'll probably leave this world in the same condition. Hopefully a little wiser in knowing when to pause and tie them when it really counts.

I got a call from the nurses office yesterday. It seems that the shoe laces had whipped up and tripped BNB, sending him sprawling into a desk which scraped his knee, his lip and bloodied his nose.
No real damage other than staining his shirt. The real problem is not that he lacks the skill to tie his laces, but rather that he currently insists on wearing a pair of shoes three sizes too big. He found these hand me downs when we were cleaning his room and now insists that they are his shoes. I can't dissuade him from his stubbornness, and so he wears those shoes. He actually has a black pair and a brown pair and sometimes, just for fun, he wears one of each, usually when dad has been in charge of the dressing ritual. You have to pick your battles, and since the mismatched, too big shoes aren't causing imminent harm, he's free to wear those shoes.

Another call from the nurse and we might re think that position. I hope he realizes soon that trying to run in shoes that are too big to fill is a precarious endeavor.

I've devoted many of my recent training hours trying to understand whose shoes I want to fill. Who am I chasing? Distinctly different from the ageless question "who am I", "what do I want to be?" is a more captivating issue for me. I have no intention spending a lifetime seeking "me", because that road leads to one day waking up with only me. I can't imagine becoming so enamored with myself that this would be very satisfying. No, the less of me the better. Mother Theresa, Amy Carmichal, Florence Nightengale, those are shoes I aspire to fill. Shoes I'd gladly and most likely trip in regularly. These courageous woman poured themselves out for others and in the end were far greater than the ones who pursued only "me"

To walk in those shoes is to answer the question "what do I want to be". Essentially, to this point I've answered that question satisfactorily by embracing what I am not. I am not an abuser. I am not wickedly cruel. I am not an unfaithful, backstabbing, belittling spouse. I am not a violent, perfectionistic, narcissist. I am not a detached, indifferent isolationist. I am not solely about me.

However, like in politics and life in general if your sole definition of self is "not" then eventually, that is all you are.

I don't want to be content with "not". I think a mistake that I have made to this point is to use training as a tool to solidify who I am not. Riding my bike 61 miles does not confirm my list of not, my list of not is inconsequential. I don't have to prove I am not, I already have. By the same token, it would be a mistake for me to allow my training and race success to define me, or really even endorse me. I want this training to be merely a process of refining me, of strengthening me in order to run with endurance towards who I want to be. More frankly, to be who God wants me to be.

Now, here is where I stumble. I am by nature a competitive person. I am by training a person who believes if you aren't winning you are losing and if you are not winning you are nothing. Thankfully that poison left my system for the most part years and years ago. So, I should restate that for the most part I was a person who believed that if your weren't winning you were losing and therefore worthless. It seems intuitively obvious that the people who were willing to beat you senseless and daily manhandle and abuse your soul with damaging words and neglect really aren't the ones who should set the economy for your value. But life is quirky in that way, and no matter how dysfunctional the parents, they own that monopoly until you are old enough to sell it to someone else. Here is the essential for me, I believe that God bought all of the stock options, and therefore sets the value of my worth, but that doesn't seem to erase the entire structure of prior management. I stumble when I believe that my performance, my success, establishes my worth. Then it's all about me. Case in point, I was nervous and nasty the morning of the century ride. I had something to prove to myself, God and man. Well one man in particular, a man who I haven't spoken to, other than to hang up the phone, in a dozen years. I had to prove that even by being "not" him I could still rise to the economy of value he set. When will I get it through my head that there is no economy and there is no value. The rain wasn't the only thing making that ride miserable.

I want bigger shoes to fill. I want better shoes to fill. While trying to fill a pair of shoes that are too big is a precarious endeavor, it beats the hell out of fretting over shoes you outgrew long ago.

2400 yard L/T training swim Monday, 1:30 bikeride Tues (garmin said I travelled 38 miles with an average speed of 24.8, I suspect Lance will be calling any day)
swim/lift today

Have a great one

Happy Birthday to me

"I get to eat your head!"

"Dad gets the booty!" eeewwwww!

We have officially become a family of cannibals. The eating of Trimama continues tonight.

For the record, Hyphen Girl turned her sugar baby into lemon squares.

I think we need help.

I did get in an epic 2 mile (longest swim to date) on Saturday in 1:07. Two of the sets of 300 were with fins, but I'm thinking that is offset by the turns at the wall and the :30 ri in between pull sets and kick sets. The lakes were warming up nicely prior to the last four days of rain-grab the the polar caps and let's go here. We'll be swimming outside by the end of next week.