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

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!

Racing Uniforms

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.

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

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:

Fri:
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!

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.





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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.

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 Triathlete.com where that username has already been claimed. Sometimes the world is simply too small.

60 minute tempo run tomorrow followed by weights and core.






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Attack of the Tribe

I had prepared a sentimental post about our day with BNB and the Tribe at the "Greatest Hobby on Earth" expo-wall to wall trains-Thomas, N scale, O scale, HO-even a remarkable lego city constructed with over a million blocks.

That was until we had ham for dinner.

But, Trimama, how can salted pork possibly derail a touching tribute to the Tribe?

Well, as you may or may not know,

Ham is PIG BUTT!



Trihubby is slammed with work and called to say that he wouldn't be home for dinner, which means one thing, a four on one fast break, that even in her hey day, Trimama couldn't defense.

No, the only hope you have in a 4 on 1 is to not get slammed on.

EEEWWWWW WE'RE HAVING PIG BUTT FOR DINNER!!!!!!!!

SLJ was helping me cook and therefore the first to make the discovery on the ham packaging.

(In general we don't use the word "butt" in our family. Too crass by my grandmother's standards.)

Pigbuttpigbuttpigbuttpigbuttpigbutt

BNB stop saying pig butt and eat your dinner.

Soapinator, stop making tooting (farting-another shunned word) noises.

No, the ham doesn't have gas. It's ham.

pigbuttpigbuttpigbuttpigbutt

HG, if you say one more thing about potato poops you are leaving the table.

pigbuttpigbuttpigbuttpigbutt

Stop with the pigbutt and eat.

"I am eating-it's pig butt"

eeewwwww fits of giggles.

Soap you are eating pig, you are not a pig-we eat with forks at the dinner table

pigbuttpigbuttpigbuttpigbutt

No, you don't need to sing pigbutt either.

The only hope you have in defensing a 4 on 1 is to break to the ball handler and try to distract them so as to cause a turnover.

Hyphen Girl, how was you day?

I can't wait to tell the kids at school that we had pigbutt for dinner.

eeeewwwwww pig butt! fits of giggles

pigbuttpigbuttpigbuttpigbuttpigbutt

When you miss that first pass you break down to the next ball handler trying to block the passing lane under the basket.

SLJ, why don't you go get the rest of the ham from the stove.

Pigbuttttttttt, pig butttttttt (operetic style)

pigbuttpigbuttpigbuttpigbuttpigbutt

Yes, Soap the fork rule includes salad. It especially includes salad.

HG, I know you feel bad for the pig, but I think it's highly unlikely that he now cares if we are eating his butt.

eeeeewwwwwwwww! Mom said BUTT!!!!!!!!!!!!

Tribe 98
Trimama 0

Focus, you can do this thing.

The amazing thing about the multisport community is that they truly are a community, and thanks to the blogosphere, all are welcome. We read about each other's training and lives and we virtually involve ourselves daily. I recently listened to
Get your geek on! podcast and as usual found it very informative and encouraging. We have podcasts. I'm doubtful that there are podcasts for the NBA or NFL. Yet, Mad Mel McQuaid, World Champion Triathlete was enthusiastic about sharing her coaching tips and life story. All to inspire the little people. Most pros don't care so much about inspiration as notoriety. Simply Stu drove the point home when he pointed out that the pros are among those cheering at the finish line at Ironman Wisconsin-at MIDNIGHT! Then there are athletes like Steven who is a great coach and nice guy who left this comment after my last post:
"I tri, and I can swim, but I cannot swim fast. Nor will I ever. I'm stuck at 1:20-1:25 IM swims forever I'm pretty sure.
But it's all in perspective, right? I wouldn't trade my sub-6'ish IM bike nor my 3:40'ish IM run for a 1:10'ish swim.
Just put in the laps and the rest will take care of itself." The fact that an elite Ironman athlete pops by my blog and makes comments, with the proverbial pat on the back, underscores my point. Lest you think his comments are self indulgent, this is the first I knew of just what a stud athlete he is- check out his site.
Then there are the ever consistent Keryn and Flatman who are just everywhere, all the time, cheering and encouraging. Athletes in their own right, and sadly not on the IMFL team- I've named them the official cheerleaders (of course without asking first) of my training team.

I'm officially rushing now, time to get the Tribe to school, or I would list more sources of inspiration-but I've got to fly-can't really write an excuse note-please excuse HG's tardiness, I was busy blogging....-

I've participated in a lot of sports, and I follow a lot of college and pro sports, and I've never seen the type of open, encouraging athletes as what you see in multisport.

Definitely worth the price of admission.

Pardon me while I obsess

About my swimming ability again.

I admit, I envy Kahuna's andTrisaratop's "I am a swimmer" abilities.

Let's face it, the only swimming race I ever won was the sprint up the matriarch's tubes. That I was the gold medalist in the zygote olympics really isn't saying much for the other chaps in the pool. Although, that gold medal is my fall back position if I'm ever in the midst of a truly bad day.

I wasn't always such a loser- I did win that one race.

As we all know, fate has a sense of irony. I embarked on my illustrious swimming metier as a "Dolphin" in the pools of southern California. It's possible that branding the entry level swimmers as dolphins was overly optimistic, in particular on my part, but Californians have a right to be optimistic in their young swimmers for two reasons: essentially every back yard in California comes equipped with a pool and, a sizeable portion of the world's greatest swimmers hale from the Golden State. A dolphin I was not, and the closest I came to water was standing in the puddle of my tears that formed at mom's feet. I endured several more attempts at lessons until my parents were satisfied that I wouldn't drown near water, but by that time we had moved to Colorado where the chances of drowing in the vast sea of arid foothills and mountains was slim. My swimming motivation was piqued by the prospect of membership at the neighborhood pool. The privilege to go to the pool without adult supervision required the ability to swim 25 yards, all at once, alone. Gulp. But the pool held the allure of friends from school, summer freedom and a $0.25 slushie machine. So, I thrashed my way through 25 yards, and by means of daily practice actually became a decent tadpole. Colorado isn't nearly so optimistic in their swimmers.

At some point in my young adult life a seed called triathlon was sown into my fertile soul, but it would be 20 years before that soil was ready to culitvate. The genesis of my passion for multisport remains a mystery to me as I quite literally awoke one morning very early in '05 smitten with the idea of becoming a triathlete. So enticed was I by multisport that come hell and high water I was going to learn to swim. In spite of all my previously failed attempts at swimming laps, even resorting to the use of a mask and snorkle (I inferred to the life guard that I was practicing for some exotic vacation I was going to take) I just couldn't cross that breathing in the water hurdle. It once again took the allure of freedom, friends and $0.99 gel packs to get me to thrash my way to 25 yards.

Then with practice 25 yards became 400 yards which became 3300 yards which will become Ironman.

I had a bad swim last night. My arms were sluggish and I couldn't seem to get them to speed up. My workout:

600 w/u 100 free 50 kick w/out a board followed by 200 drill of choice (This took me 20 minutes-jump in, swim to other end for kickboard, fins, pull buoy, swim back this 50 doesn't count-ear plugs-naw, half way down the lane-hey dopey, remember you are trying to keep water out of your ears because you're tired of the ocean sound at night-go back get ear plugs in-defog goggles. Swim the 150, stop to breathe because you are still digesting the bean soft taco from lunch. Swim another 150, contemplating what the drills would be-forget the other 300 w/u let's just go to drills- hello-does 70.3 in June mean anything to you? Finish 300 w/u go to drills.

2X 500 race pace + :30 First 250 5:00 minutes. That would not be a real great race pace-better pick it up a little
Second 250 4:50 ok a little better- more so because I remembered the mega weight lifting session I embarked on Saturday. My muscles are always aerobically sluggish after a weight session-

Second 500 (decided to do it as a pull) 10:45 with a n/s on second 250
8X100 There is no way I'm going to get in the prescribed 3250 and get to work on time and I'm swimming poorly so it's time to wrap this up and call it a 2200 day instead.

So, I did alternating 50 and 100 sprints until I got to 2200 yards. By this time Trihubby had unbeknownst to me joined the Tribe in the pool, so he helped me practice flip turns. I've gotten to the point where I can do them decently, I just need to get over my inhibition and work them into my swimming vocabulary. So, I left the pool yesterday acutely aware that I am not a swimmer-yet.

In my evangelical attempts to recruit folks to the sport of triathlon I often hear the rebuff, "oh, I'd do a tri but I really can't swim."

Face it folks, if a dolphin can learn to swim, so can you.

I give up

As you may or may not notice, I'm trying to update my blog- so why is my link colume cascading to the right?

Point 5-aaaaagggghhhhhh!!!!!!!!

The day of the state swimming tournament had arrived. The culmination of 5 months of training and meets boiling down to one race-50 yards. We arrived at the U of MN aquatic center at 8:30 am for body marking and warm ups. 10:00 anthem and let the games begin.

Trihubby and I traded shifts at the pool and at home so as to leave the rest of the Tribe at home. $3.50 for a coke at the concession stand, $2.50 for a bag of candy and not much space to manuever = wise decision.

Originally Hyphen Girl was set to swim the 50 free and the 4X200 free but when we arrived we learned she would only swim the relay. For the most part she had a good attitude about the whole day-hangin with friends and cheering for her teammates. After about 9 hours, she did begin to question her whole point in being there. I explained that when you are on a team, every member counts. In this state meet there is a point value assigned to each finish, with first receiving 40 some points, second 30 some points etc. Each swimmer counts whether they place or not. At the mid point of the meet they announced the team standings and her team was in first place out of 23 teams. Wow!

Finally her race was called and she went to queue up with her relay team. At the start of the relays they announced the team standings again. Her team held a 60 point lead for first place; kids you'd better make your relays count. As they had all day, the kids swam their hearts out, and the points continued to drop in the Tidal Wave bucket. Then her race was up. There were 4 heats of girls 12 and under swimming and she was heat 3-the second fastest grouping. They swam well but hit the wall 7th of 8 teams. Oh, dissappointment.

Mom, we didn't win. We didn't even place. I can't believe I just wasted an entire day for nothing.

Well, it's not "nothing" for two reasons.

One, experience. You now know what the pressure of a big meet feels like, and what you need to do to qaulify in more events next year.

Two, points. As I said, every race counts. Every point counts. You won't know until the end of the meet how your points affect the outcome.

On to Fuddruckers. We left before the final team standings were announced because it was now an 11 hour day and the whole crew was waiting for the celebration dinner at Fuddrucker's. Half way through our meal, much to our surprise, the coaching crew came through the door.

Did we win?

1791 to 1791.5

We lost our title bid by 0.5

0.5 is agony to a coaching staff.

One kid sick, 2 very suspect dq's, one hand just a little slower than the next kid, one entire age group of relays missing (recruiting has begun), one place.

One place we win, one place we lose.

But they didn't lose. They took 2nd place among 23 teams-6 of which are very impressive clubs. 2nd place among outstate clubs that have the luxury of being the only swim club in town. We have the choice of at least a dozen clubs to participate with alone- Dozens of kids qualified for the Regional meet. Dozens of kids shaved their times down over the season. Much character and sportsmanship was imparted.

And at least 3 kids I know had alot of fun.

I'd like to file a complaint please.

Your Local Forecast
Tonight
Low: -18 °F
Colder. Mostly clear... More


Hello...is anyone there? Hellooooooo? Would someone please explain to me who thought up 20 freakin below?
20 freakin' below. Who comes up with these things?

You are a moron.



Ok, check that. Obviously the creator of the universe can do as he pleases-who am I to complain.

20 freakin' below. That is as far away from biking as you can get. Well actually, we've had straight temps of 36 below in the recent past, but this is today.

So, to my scandanavian relatives


What were you thinking?

100 what????

Yesterday, in addition to Valentines, was the 100th day of school-an achievement celebrated in primary school. To honor the fortuitous occasion, Standing Long Jump, the one honing his cheating acumen, compiled a packet of of 100's with his classmates. First page, the "100 Days of School"song, sung to the tune of "It's a Small World Afterall" -one of those songs that has the effect of the brain eating yeti eel-my apologies. The following page is a compilation of wishes by 100's: "I wish I had: 100 pieces of candy" but I wouldn't want: 100 schools... I could eat 100: pieces of candy, I could eat 100 chocolates but I couldn't eat: 100 burritos. Following the list of 100's were several pages of 10's- 10 groups of 10's to be exact. 10 animals, 10 girls names, 10 boys names 10 kinds of fruit

10 drinks:
pop
water
shake
root beer
Sierra Mist
RUM
WINE
BEER
Coke
Mountain Dew

RUM! WINE! BEER! What are teaching this boy?!

He forgot Tequila!

Where is the Teguila?!

Now on to the next pages.

"This is me at 100 years old" A tombstone. He drew a tombstone. With his name on it. However, not to be deterred by death, his favorite food will be: Apple Pie, his favorite thing to do will be: rest and the thing he will not want to do is: run. This one definitly goes into the "keeper file"

Onward, it's a bike/weights/ recess and it is so damn cold out aaggghhh day. I will probably spin to the olympics,









Link

Ok, I love Spinervals

It might be the atmosphere-gathered with 10 or 12 fellow tri geeks in the cramped confines of our local bike shop-it might be the constant barking of the coach to push harder, reminiscent of my days on the hardwood and turf, it might have been as simple as Trimama needed a morning out-but I loved Spinervals. Actually it is probably a combination of the three-in that order of influence. Good to see Chris drag himself from his warm bed and join us-he laid the pedal down with ease, barely breathing at 120 rpm, while Trimama sounded like she was going one on one with Ali (the daughter). See, it's hard to not have a game face when you are bringing smack down to the Spinerval coach. Speaking of game face, if you've followed my blog you remember this pic from the finish of my first open water tri, last June. I was obviously exuberant-which is a rare emotion in the nordic states-so the photog snapped my picture-probably for scientific evaluation. The next thing I knew, my pic was on the front page of the local paper, the banner of the results page of the race and therefore posted on the counter of my local tri shop. They liked the fact that I was sporting their "flames" in a race sponsored by the competitor. So, to this day my pic hangs alongside the autographed pics of the pros and other biking folks like Greg Lemond. Little did I know how thorough the phot og was that day-seems there were several pics of the Trimama, including one "game face" photo, which is now Aaaggghh available to every person who picks up a copy of Midwest Multi sport magazine, is it too late to move to northern France? I hear face transplant patients get to keep their voice. Ok, given a circulation of about 20, it's not People, but it is local-I sort of prefer annonymous.
Go ahead, cue Carly ....You're so vain.....-I'm done now.

Standing Long Jump, the 7 almost 8 year old just demonstrated how you can convert an "F" on a paper to an "A"- I suppose that might serve him well at some point in his life-the point in which he has become infinitely smarter than his mother and is able to pass that deception under her nose. Good grief, if he gains that degree of saavy he'd better be able to avoid the "F" altogether.

Turns out Soapinator made state as an alternate. She is praying for someone to get sick. Allow me to explain, or at least remind you that this is the child I had to throw into the pool the first few races of each of the first few meets. Turns out she loves swimming. Who would've known? I am fairly certain that by the time I understand this evolution of, protest everything mom and dad want you to do, even if it is fun, until you think it is safe to find it fun because you don't think mom will notice the change and might even call you on it, the phase will have passed. I think in the end elementary kids just want you as a wall behind their backs so they know they have somewhere to run and hide if things don't work out so well. They will go out on a limb if they know 1) they have no choice and 2) they have no avenue for failure. In our house you only fail when you refuse to try.

Know this: mom is smart enough to know when an "F" has been converted to an "A".

I'm not going to comment on the mom of the 7 year old who said that if her daughter wasn't finishing first or second in the races there was just no point to being on the swim team.

This is a family blog.

2500 yds in the pool today as follows

300 w/u 300 kick w/fins 300 pull
300 3 stroke breathing 300 1 stroke rt 300 1 stroke lft 2X300 pull n/s 100 cool down

followed by 4.5 miles on the 'tonka speedway where 18 laps=1 mile

2.5 at easy, fat burning (striving for 70.3 weight) 9 min miles followed by
2.0 8:30 miles

stretch/cool down

If you haven't done so yet-remember the podcasts of "throughth3wall.com" and "trigeekdreams.com"

Trimama out.

aaaaaagggghhhh chooo!

My hands are blue as I type this. Does anyone care enough to send me an airplane ticket to someplace warm? We are just back in the doghouse here again- cold and snowy. And I have a head cold. Not a problem except that it is speed week for training. Is it a problem when your heart rate monitor doesn't want to drop below 165 through your run and it really wants to hover at 180-hey look my heart is about to explode in my chest. Actually, I think because this stupid crud is sitting somewhere between my ears and chest, I'm just not breathing that well and it makes my heart work harder. I cut the hour run by a few minutes and worked a lot harder on the weights. I can bench 85 pounds now-whoo hoo- only 15 to go to get to 100. Trihubby and I went the ultra romantic route and bought free weights for each other for Valentine's day- it was his idea, I wanted to get the chocolate body paint. But we are all serious about training now and chocolate isn't on the training menu-would it be gross if I bought it anyhow and licked myself-yea definitely. Tomorrow is a spinning morning with the tri club and that will conclude speed week. It's back to base camp next week.

It might be the head cold, it might be the "my friends and I joke about how an ironman is 2X's the distance but 4X's harder" comment made by Chivalry Chris (sorry no link today) in week 2 Podcast of Iron Wil and Kahuna, whatever, but I've been having some serious "what the he#@ am I thinking" moments lately about Florida. Then I heard a great song on VH1 called "Unwritten"-I'll try to find a link later- it is a perfect "just get out there and do it" song. I also know that I need to get in some long bike rides as soon as it is warm enough to ride-that for me is the missing link. I know I can swim, I know I can run, but can I bike

112 freakin' miles?

I don't know.

and I won't know until this winter finally comes to an end.

Is it ever going to end...............aaaaaagggggggghhhhhhh chooooooooooooooooo!

Link

Going to State!

Hyphen Girl is going to State! She qualified in the 50 free and the 200 free relay. I'm glad she has the chance to swim an individual and team event.

It was superhero day at school yesterday-a reward for the classes doing a certain number of service/servant acts. I suggested she dress like her mom-hahahahahahaha- I don't think her eyes have returned to their normal position after that roll.

Life is good when you can achieve a whitewater Kayak look from your tweener.

I want to thank everyone for their keen insight and instruction regarding my Spock hands in the swim. In the end I've decided to implement Bolder's
recommendation:

"stick the two fingers -- the two that form the innermost part of the V -- directly into your nostrils, and have them remain there for an extended period of time.this is the natural spacing recommended in the Total Nosepicking swim program.your fingers will learn the correct spacing through the TN muscle memory system.
repeat several times a day with each hand.
no need to thank me, i'm here to help.

Thanks Bolder, I knew I could count on my fellow Coloradoan.

Finally, Wendy, "Wingnut" Ingraham, 5 time WTC Ironman Champion is coming to town for a VIP Night at my local bike shop and she is going to be doing a fashion show for Tyr. They want models-specifically a female model.

The Question is, do they want TRIMAMA?

While I wouldn't describe myself as shy, I also wouldn't say I'm a front stage person either- is the humiliation worth the free swag?

Hey everyone, I'm rich!

Well, not me, but Buck Naked Boy. He has exactly six quarters and one nickle. That's a lot of coin for a five year old. We spent Saturday at the sectional swim meet and booya for him, they had a concession stand. Throughout the day I was handing him dollars, without realizing I was receiving no change back. (I was a little preoccupied losing my voice over the course of 15 or so races) so, it wasn't until arriving at grandma's for dinner and he made his grand announcement, that I discovered his newly acquired treasure. Possession is 9/10ths the law, so he can have the money. Given his pack rat nature he'll count those quarters ad infinitum.

Sectionals were exciting. Hyphen Girl, who had swam with relative indifference during the season poured on the speed and swam her fastest times ever-we find out Tuesday, but chances are good for her to qualify for state in three events. Standing Long Jump has an outside chance of going in one event-not bad for a kid who couldn't swim a 25y in October. Soapinator is in the most populated age group and probably won't go to state this year-but I was so proud of her; she went from panicked -to the point of throwing up - to swimming like a fish and also swam her fastest races all year. If she can get about 10 more yards out of her arms she will be a contender in the ten and under age group next fall.

A note for all the parents/aunts/uncles/grandparents out there: Soapinator struggles in schools and always has. Reading, math, you name it, and it's a challenge. Poor kid would get so flumaxed she stopped trying. I had a hunch swimming might be good for her as the coaches are terrific and she loves to swim. She didn't want anything to do with racing though and as I mentioned went through various stages of fright/crying/vomiting/asthma/panic attacks before each meet. I pretty much shoved her in the pool the first couple of races. She would speed down and back and jump out of the pool like a little puppy dog all wiggly and excited for the next race. No more panic. Finally, by meet four she won her heat and as she came back to me for her towel, I gave her a high five and commented "you're a swimmer now Soapinator!"

"And a reader! I swim and read"

Sure enough, I had a chat with her teacher and she was reading just above grade level. Not only that, but she was volunteering to take her individualized reading tests-a thing that had caused more panic than swim races. You can't buy that kind of confidence which a good sports team will give to your child-

even if I do win the "worst mother of the year award" for throwing her in the pool. What???? I knew she wouldn't really throw up. Oh, thank god she didn't- it takes 24 hours of filtering and shock treatments before it can be swam in again. uugggghhh!

Speaking of swimming-mine is going along fine-I'm covering 3200 yards comfortably about 2X per week. I'm arranging some coaching for our tri club- Chivalry 'Iron' Chris is on the same team and volunteered to look at our mechanics. It would really stink if I was doing it all wrong-that's a lot of untraining, but I'd rather know now than in June when I sink to the bottom of Lake Independance. I know off hand that my propensity for "Spock" hands is not a good thing. Don't ask me why, I have no idea, but I create a "V" with my fingers each time I grab at the top of my stroke. I've tried to focus on closing my hand, but inevitably I end up with Spock again. Maybe it's my closet Trekie trying to escape. I might try taping my hands for next workout.

Any other thoughts?

training weirdness

Ever have those weeks that you've planned the whole week with workouts etc, then you post some chain mail thing about priorities and the week just blows to Oscar. Monday was supposed to be a swim, but I was called in to work, so it's home to bike instead. 2 hours spin time, 1 hour at a time. Today was supposed to be a 3200 swim-but one sick kid calling to be picked up at school and 30 cantakerous active older adults in the pool with the swim team combined with year end payroll crimey nixed my swim. My bro in law was cross training, so I joined him for 20 minutes, and wrapped up with 30 mins on the treadmill and some stretching. I have to re cert in CPR/AED tomorrow, so I see a late night swim in the works.

In the process of taxes and payroll, I learned that I can "hire" each of my kids and pay them up to $4860.00, owing no FICA and they owe no tax because they don't reach the individual filer limit. Who thinks of this stuff?

Guess what kids? Time to raise your allowance!

A mayonaise jar and 2 cups of coffee

When things in your life seem almost too much to handle, when 24 hours in a day are not enough, remember the mayonnaise jar and the 2 cups of coffee.

A professor stood before his philosophy class and had some items in front of him. When the class began, he wordlessly picked up a very large and empty mayonnaise jar and proceeded to fill it with golf balls. He then asked the students if the jar was full. They agreed that it was.

The professor then picked up a box of pebbles and poured them into the jar. He shook the jar lightly. The pebbles rolled into the open areas between the golf balls. He then asked the students again if the jar was full. They agreed it was.

The professor next picked up a box of sand and poured it into the jar. Of course, the sand filled up everything else. He asked once more if the jar was full. The students responded with an unanimous "yes."

The professor then produced two cups of coffee from under the table and poured the entire contents into the jar effectively filling the empty space between the sand. The students laughed.

"Now," said the professor as the laughter subsided, "I want you to recognize that this jar represents your life. The golf balls are the important things---God, your family, your children, your health, your friends and your favorite passions---and if everything else was lost and only they remained , your life would still be full.

The pebbles are the other things that matter like, your job, your house and your car.

The sand is everything else---the small stuff. "If you put the sand into the jar first," he continued, "there is no room for the pebbles or the golf balls. The same goes for life. If you spend all your time and energy on the small stuff you will never have room for the things that are important to you.

"Pay attention to the things that are critical to your happiness. Play with your children. Spend time with your parents. Visit with grandparents. Take time to get medical checkups. Take your spouse out to dinner. Play another 18. There will always be time to clean the house and fix the disposal. Take care of the golf balls first---the things that really matter. Set your priorities. The rest is just sand."


One of the students raised her hand and inquired what the coffee represented. The professor smiled. "I'm glad you asked.

It just goes to show you that no matter how full your life may seem, there's always room for a couple of cups of coffee with a friend."

Please share this with someone you care about.. I JUST DID.

Awake?

Then get up off your assets and Just do it!


Add this baby to your podcast!

And on the I -just- worked -4 -hours -of -house- cleaning- and- 10 -hours- of- painting -because- there - are- more-races-and -stuff to buy- than -money- and now I've had two beers and it's the middle of the cycle-and painting 10 hours is boring-but good mental training note:

Best sexed up riffs of all time - feel free to add:

U2- Elevation
AC/DC Shook me all night long

Dang, now I'm stuck-which is good because I need a shower (definitely not cold-trihubby is waiting)

but I need more music for the Shuffle- so, ideas anyone?

Oh, how we sacrifice

Saturday night we were at a "game night" party with a group of tri/running/wine friends. A great combination guaranteed to make you laugh harder than you've laughed in a really long time. We were talking about spinning sessions and how we occupied our time.

Thanks to some cable channel we can all watch some of the worst of the worst tv programming of the '70's and '80's. Anyone remember The A Team? I do, it was the show that came before "Remmington, the man I'm going to marry someday, Steele". The A Team occupied the first hour of my spin time Sunday.

Ok, fess up, what do you watch while spinning?

And I don't want to hear any smart ass answers like "I watch the ocean go by, and the birds flying" blah blah blah



I KNOW THERE IS A BIKING PARADISE OUT THERE AND I DON'T LIVE IN IT!!!!!

Ok, returning to calm, centered, self.

James Wood was a great Hades-especially with the controlled vent

Time to run and lift.

When self doubt is good.

I hit the pool Friday for 3250 yards.

300 warm up
12X25 focus on technique-count strokes working to reduce # per 25 (19 in 19 seconds best-and yes my lats still hurt)
10X75 increase on 1-5 sprint 6,8 and 10 slow 7,9 ri 1:00
repeat
850 pull buoy-mod to fast to mod to fast etc (I feel like I can swim forever with the buoy-which is good because it's a little like a wet suit)
200 kick with fins-work breathing
100 warm down

Part way through the first 750 set I began to contemplate how much trouble I was in, thinking I could actually swim in the ocean. I've never swam in the ocean, unless you count an afternoon snorkeling. I stroked along thinking about being eaten by sharks, swept out to sea, drowned by jelly fish, being dragged so horribly off course that the swim becomes a 4 mile nightmare and I don't make the cutoff time. Swimming isn't biking or running. If you bonk in the swim there is no walking. There is no sliding off to the side and resting a bit (ok, you can always grab a kayak) but you get the picture.

I was alone with my thoughts in the pool and they were dragging me down to the black line.

What are you made of Trimama?

Assess.

When I was in 7th grade I went to exactly one day of basketball practice and decided I couldn't play. I felt awkward with the ball, I didn't really know how to dribble, I was out. I really liked basketball, and I had an older sister who had played. Older sisters pretty much exist to set a standard for you to exceed. At least that was my mindset. I got a ball and spent the next year dribbling up and down the 200 yards of driveway. Left hand, right hand, etc. Went out for the team and things worked out just fine.

Back to the pool....

Left arm, right arm. Doubt is good for one thing-so you have someone to prove wrong. Even if it's just yourself.

Each one of those sprints reduces your brain to a screaming pansy-but better to scream now then to cry later. Each one of those sprints makes my arms a little tougher, a little stronger and little more likely to swim the distance on course and on time.

Overcoming doubts by nuturing confidence....priceless.


Today was long spin on the bike day. 2:32-grinding hills through commercials, ramping rpm's during the shows.

It's all down hill from here.

Or uphill I guess, depending on your vantage point.

Either way you gotta keep moving to take in all the scenery.

It was one year ago this week that I followed the little itch in my brain to start training for a triathlon. I didn't have a clue what I was doing. I wandered into my local bike shop and posed a few questions to the extremely nice sales guy. He was upbeat and positive, so I thought I might as well pursue this a little further. I met up with a friend to try swimming-neither of us could travel more than 3 or 4 lengths without stopping-I had no idea how to breathe and had to do one length of backstroke for each 25 freestyle. To my credit I sought help from the mom of one of Buck Naked Boy's friends. She swam for Standford's NCAA championship teams and was able to teach me how to relax and feel confident in the water. By the end of February I was swimming 12-15 lengths at a time without stopping.

We took The Tribe to Florida's Gulf coast in February, not terribly far from the staging grounds for Ironman. At the time the idea of completing a sprint tri was daunting, little did I know what road lay before me. My profile pic was taken with Hyphen Girl as we watched the sunset on the beach. Someday I'll get around to changing the pic, but for now it inspires me.

"You're crazy."

Was my hubby's response as he watched the Ebay and Performance Bike packages arrive in the mail. They knew I'd totally lost it when my wet suit arrived and I tried it on for Hubby and Hyphen Girl to see. No one I knew could say for certain what a triathlon was, much less that you needed to buy a wet suit. I still didn't know what I was doing, but, I read everything I could in trying to train well. What truly baffles me is that from the beginning I planned to have a triathlon season. I spent hours researching races and settled on competing in one race each month of the summer, starting in May. The May tri had a pool swim, so that sounded like the perfect intro to the sport. All through the spring I was doing bricks at the Y. You can imagine the looks I'd encounter as I transitioned in the locker room (got it down to 2:15-my fastest to date) and biked away on a stationary, still dripping from the pool.

I had my hybrid mountain bike fully rigged with clipless pedals and aero bars, thanks to my local bike shop, and I was ready to ride. Then Hubby surprised me on my birthday with a new bike. To demonstrate what novices we were, we dinked around with whether to go mountain or road bike for tri's. Of course you can ride a mountain bike in a tri race, but if you want to make a hobby of it, you're eventually going to go road/tri bike. It's just too frustrating getting passed by the 80 year old on the road bike while you are pedalling furiously on a mountain bike. And, it's easier to think about training seriously when you've invested in the part.

Needless to say that first tri hooked us both.

By this time we had discovered TriGeekDreams and therefore all of you wonderful people, and there was just no turning back. The enthusiasm of the blogosphere and amongst our fellow athletes was simply too contagious.

So, the training goes on, and now thanks to some inspiration provided by your training schedules and The Nancinator I purchased a full year wall calender today at the office supply store. I brought it home and nailed it to the wall leading to our lower level. Black is for my training schedule. Red is single event races like running a 10K race. Blue is for my pending tri races this year.

Liberty Tri 06.10.06.........70.3
Pigman Tri.08.20.06........70.3
Florida Tri 11.04.06.......140.6

That's it. That's really all I should afford both in time and money.

That makes #7 Ironman.

In the immortal words of Waylon Jennings

"I've always been crazy, but it's kept me from going insane"

Congratulations, you smoked a fatty!

A rather large, in the linebacker sense of the word, guy in the starting corral had that scrawled across the back of his t shirt. I love self deprecating humor.

The tree has absolutely nothing to do with the race, but I liked the pic, it's my desktop right now.

But on to Chang's

First to say, if you ever have the opportunity, or can make the opportunity to race in another city, in particular a nice warm city in the middle of winter, make it or take it. Phoenix/Scottsdale/Tempe/Chandler/Mesa/Flagstaff are quite beautiful. I touched or walked on every patch of green grass I could find, sat under citrus trees, gazed at palms and just in general enjoyed the hills and mountains of the desert.

Note to fire marshall of Sedona at mile 9 that has lived in Arizona 25 years and never been to Grand Canyon and really doesn't think much of the red rocks:

MOVE!

You live in one of the most beautiful states in the lower 48, if you no longer see that aaaaaaaaggggghhhhh! I feel sorry for you. Enjoyed chatting with you. (more about him later)

Around August last summer I was staring at the calender and contemplating our 15th wedding anniversary. What to do, what to do? The e-vite to Chang's was in my email; question answered. I had just run a sluggish (or so it felt) 1:55 half, so I optimistically wrote in a 1:50 finish time for the flat, non humid Chang's course. That is how Trihubby and I found ourselves in corral #4 of like 20 in the half marathon. Posers in the midst of some serious runners, but there were other posers as well. The race was very well organized, particularly for only being in it's 4th year and hosting 33,000 runners. I imagine there were some marathoners who didn't feel so inclined while they sat on shuttle buses at 7:10 with a 25 minute ride to the start of a 7:30 race. Even less so the ones sitting in the mile crawl of traffic just waiting to arrive in the parking lots, only to join thousands in lines for the shuttle. But hey, the info brochure strongly encouraged runners to arrive early aka 6:30. If I was sitting in that traffic it would have immediately taken care of all pre race "issues" as I would have been sh#*ing bricks. Marathons are tough mental business, I can't imagine arriving that late to the start. But that is another story.

We had met up with Trihubby's sister who was running the half as her first race-ever! She brought two of her seven kids, the 12 and 15 year old boys. I had talked my sis in law into the race and I was thrilled that the boys came along for the ride. They had trained together and were ready to run.

"Hey Trimama!"

I heard as we made our way to the corral. Someone else knows I'm here. Duh, hi Comm. How cool to run into each other in the sea of athletes. Good luck and all that. Now, I'm working on my competitive issues, so keep that in mind here. At dinner the night before we were talking about the race and what we hoped for finish times. Best case for me 1:52-about 8:30 miles. I was pretty serious about breaking the 2 hour point in the least.

Commodore: "oh I don't know 2:20, something like that, it depends how I'm running. Sometimes 8:30's work, sometimes 10's are all I've got."

Competitive chip kicks in. If he runs 2:20, I could have bragging rights to finishing before everyone I know in the race. Competitive chip is completely incompatible with common sense. Hello? four of the other runners have never passed the 8 mile mark. In case you are wondering, Trihubby and I do race in our tri's-it's fun, and it makes us go faster. Commodore has raced for a long time, but it's not exactly fair to compete against someone when they don't even know you are in a race. Since we were assigned to different corrals, we couldn't run together anyhow-but I bet we could have both pr'd if we had.

That is my problem with road racing these days (please give me wide berth here), I don't have a focus for the races. This kills me, because I love running. Allow me to explain. I ran the marathon last fall with some vague sense of what I wanted to accomplish, which for the most part was a finish so that I could sign up for IMFL. I had a goal time based on training times, but when the day came down, I just didn't care enough to compete with myself to achieve my goal. I finished the race and for the most part enjoyed all the atmosphere parts. But it haunts me to know I had a lot more in me that I just couldn't summon on that day. The accomplishment is just a little dampened because I didn't take the challenge seriously on that day. Now, I consider it a feat to finish in spite of my own counter productive thinking. I also happen to think that running that day mentally exhausted from one of the most hellish weeks I'd had in a long time is great training in the bank. Suffice to say, I'd like another crack at a marathon to see if I can do what I train to do. Someday. This might help explain the following split times and what I think about them.

While standing in the corral I was conflicted. Yea, yea yea for us, we are running today and it is a great day! I'm ready to run and enjoy all the scenery. The gun sounds and we are off. Actually, the gun malfunctioned, so the guy just yelled Go!

mile 1 8:20 whoo feeling good, fun band
mile 2 17:05 still feeling good-warming up bye trihubby who had a head cold
5k 27:10 not too bad at all, particularly because I stripped down and redressed in the middle of the mile to get the long sleeve shirt off-I seem to be doing that in races lately
mile 4 This is the rock and roll marathon, but the bands can only be heard for about 3 total blocks. I wish I had my ipod
mile 5 43:00 water stop time for hammer gel-nope, let's just walk through and do powerade/endurolyte-it was well mixed
10K 55:18 getting to half way-and

I DON'T WANT TO RUN ANYMORE I'M BORED

That is just so not helpful

But there is no music. There was supposed to be music and crowds. both were a little sparse.

Ok, you are in the long stretch, just run to the next stop light, and the next.

Mile 7 64:05 The alphabet game, I can play the alphabet game

Mile 8 1:13:45 "M" money order, "N" no checks

Mile 9 1:24:XX yea water and gu packs

Gu packs in every variety. Gu packs that 15 year old nephew consumed X 6 or 7-he couldn't remember. No water-just Gu.

I took 2 squishes from 1 pack, with lots more powerade.

Mile 10 1:32:12 screw the PR, 27 minutes to break 2 hour mark. 3.1 in 27 minutes. I could do that. Who cares if I do? I don't care. I think I'll just walk here and ruin all chances-no pressure then.

"Oh, don't stop now, you're almost there. Let's go."

Hi Sedona Firemarshall. we talked for a quarter mile. Then I surged on ahead.

So, here is this guy who I've never met encouraging me in my race. What a selfish poo I've been. This is not why I train, or race or tri. No more looking at watch. No more pouty, I'm done running. There are cheerleaders to hi-five, and runners to encourage. It's amazing what you see in a race when you stop looking at your feet.

Mile 11 ran a quarter mile with Mike, a guy who is 3 years past cancer. Way to go Mike. ran alongside older couple-that's awesome. Ran behind guy with 6ft log on his shoulder running for his commrades in arms who had fallen for our country. Almost caught up with girl running in memory of a fallen soldier.

Mile 12 Ran across the bridge that looked really cool with it's lights in the morning.

Hello Sundevil Stadium.

Mile 13 Ok, almost there........good grief how far is .1 mile? But lot's of people cheering now.

Finish 2:03:55

Savor, medal, blanket, water, stuff, sandals,

BEER- 2 beers for each finisher. Good, cold beer. Only at ASU would they give you beer-oh and maybe Madison

Savor.

I didn't break the 2 hour mark, but in retrospect, I hadn't really trained for that either. And I ran without my ipod-excellent race training. I enjoyed some new acquaintances. My sis in law and nephews finished with pride. Trihubby ran his first 1/2 marathon-whoo hoo and I got to hang out with a bunch of really great people.

Final breakdown

18,536 finishers 4833 overall

11,678 women 1992 gender

1891 division 349 place

2 minutes behind Commodore-

There's always Florida :)

My blind date with Commodore

Best blind date I've ever had. Trihubby and I got a chance to meet up with
Commodore and the beautiful, gracious Mistress last night. Extra bonus, the Mighty Mo came along, an adorable teddy bear with a giggle that made my heart long for home. We had fun chatting, and in the end, I realized this is a great couple I'd love to hang out with more, one more reason to move to Arizona.

I'm waiting for the final times to post the race report. Suffice to say, it was a fun race. (of course, had I known that I was racing Comm, I'd have run with a little more motivation :)

We're off to see "Collective Soul" in the outdoor stadium- Date night!

My date with The Kahuna

Oh, my gosh, you're Jessie Stensland. blahhhhhh, blah,

I'm an idiot-a babbling idiot. Jessie Stensland has reduced me to a babbling idiot.

"and who are you? What do you do?

I'm Trimama of course.

If only. What I actually babbled forth was something like ....Tri Geek Dreams...blah blah blah...Kahuna

"Oh is that him?" she gushed, pointing to Trihubby. "I met him at the end of a race this summer"


You mean that sexy, shaved head, stud? No, that would be my husband.



Oh.

She couldn't hide her disappointment.

Thinking....thinking.....

But you're Jessie Stensland! You're awesome!

Would you like a GNC power bar sample? (scanning for security)

No....Jessie was actually quite gracious and as I recovered myself, I remembered to introduce my sister in law, nephew and the non Kahuna Trihubby. We chatted about tri's for a bit. I blundered slightly in asking if she had raced IMFL, I thought I had seen her name on the athlete list a few years back. Turns out it was the other pro triathlete I met this summer, Beth Hibbarb. Jessie focuses her 4-6 hours of training a day on kicking international distance boot-a.

Did I mention that Arizona is awesome?!

My northern kin will understand this:

We were driving The 202 yesterday afternoon with the top down, listening to the tunes when I glanced at the clock-4:32.

That would make it 5:32 back home.

5:32, dark, cold (15 degrees), and snowing.

I hear the moving vans revving up-maybe Commodore (the nicest guy I've never met-which is completely my dope headed fault because I waited to call him until after the expo as we were driving away-and of course he was there-then-hope to catch up Saturday) can suggest a few real estate options-

What I can dream can't I?

A Grand start to the year

The year began with a jump into an icy lake, and now continues with an amazing climb in the Grand Canyon! I am simply in awe of the beauty of Arizona. To be so small in such a vast expanse is somewhat refreshing-no, downright spiritual.

If you've never made the journey, I highly reccomend it. We drove down through Sedona and caught the red rocks at sunset-just so happened that the moon was rising simulataneously-and it was full.

I think I'm moving to Arizona. Being in Flagstaff reminded me of all that I loved about growing up in the Rockies.

Tomorrow we go to the expo/packet pick up-I can't wait to run down palm and orange tree lined streets!

Nothing wrong with that picture

No pics to show, but BNB managed to slip this weekend and land entirely on his face. I thought at first that he put his tooth through his lip, but as it turned out, he only managed the biggest fat lip I've seen since "The Iceman" Liddell dropped his last opponent.

He cried for awhile, then worn from the trauma and the day, he fell asleep sucking his ice cube. When he awoke later, both lips were ballooned and crusted with dried blood.

"Mom, I don't think I'll ever be able to do that one thing again. You know when your mouth does that thing like this (making a circle motion)..."

You mean smile?

"Yea, I'm never going to be able to smile again."

Oh the pain if that were true.

It took a couple days, but he got his smile back.

Link

Now that's gutsy!

The Nancinator (thanks for the name Bolder) has just completed a half marathon, a 5K and a full marathon in two days. Stop by and whoop it up for her. As I commented on her site, other than the amazing physical challenge, I think the mental stamina this demonstrates is astounding.

I went for my final 10 mile run in training for Chang's, it was an even 30 degrees and the paths were mostly clear. The sunset was beautiful.

All things being clothed equally, I did have to wonder why my fanny was freezing-it was even facing the sun as it set. Then it occured to me that the fabric of choice at the Shopping-is-a-contact-sport-Victoria's Secret-Semi-annual-sale was cotton. Ah yes the comfort of cotton, unless it happens to be holding sweat, which albeit salt water, does seem to freeze at 32 degrees, and therefore transforms wonderful cotton into icy booty.

Little hint for the other Trimama's: if you want a night out with your girlfriends mention the VS semi annual sale. I believe the actual words out of Trihubby's mouth were "There is a God! Here's the credit card, have a great time!

He enjoyed the Trimama fashion show immensely.

As usual, on the run, there were the other enthusiast out and about, and we all saluted one another with a wave and smile and "it's great to be alive and running/walking" look.

While it might be a bit awkward for Trihubby, I want a beard. A full face beard. Well at least while I am out running in the cold. That just looks so comfortable to me. Is Chia face in my future? Oh, wait. Those are plants, they would die and then I'd spend my run with droopy dead plant on my face. I suppose I could always get a running scarf.

This is the first winter that I have run outside. Before triathlon, I worked out. I went to the Y three times a week and ran for 30-40 minutes. If I was feeling really crazy I might row for 5 minutes. Then 20 minutes of weight lifting and done. Every so often I'd throw in a 5K or maybe 10K challenge. There was no need to run outside, and I don't like ice. More succintly, my backside and knees don't like ice-they suffer if I go down. We live in the land of winter ice and tundra, so why would I risk my ability to work out just to run outside?

Why risk anything for that matter.

But to follow a dream, you have to risk.

I realized last spring that I was prone to distraction in my workouts. Radio wires in the way, stop and fix them. Sweat in eyes, stop and adjust. Every little thing could throw me off my game. I knew to complete a tri I'd have to apply some mental toughness. So, I started to train mentally. I pushed through those little annoyances, learned to fix them without stopping. Learned to go just a little farther than I "thought" I could each time.

Running outside is part of that training. It is a mental toughness playground. Because I had such a short workout schedule, I would go at it with great intensity. Training requires intensity, but it is more a mental intensity. You have to be thinking to get from point A to point B, and that takes training.

Which brings me to my final thought. With a mere 37 years under my belt, I see my life as an echo, a small shadow of what it is to become. There are years and eternity to contemplate with each decision I make. I try to weigh the big decisions thoughtfully, eg: should I do an Ironman? My current contemplation regards this mental training.

Phil just returned to the boxing ring for training-what an incredible workout. I know if I "got into the ring" so to speak, with kickboxing, I can stir up a level of testosterone laden competitive fervor. As a former basketball and soccer player, I know you can train at that level, and I could compete at a higher level.

The problem: that training tends to turn Trimama into a hard ass. I don't like hard ass Trimama-at all. HA Trimama is easy to create. I just have to summon all the anger and angst, bitterness and bite of life-release the Titans and prepare to lay siege. However, once the uprising commenses, it is difficult to contain. Trimama becomes a Tsunami of unrequited wrath. That Trimama lives life in survivor-think-of-no-one-else-mode, modified slightly for day to day, but awakened easily. Simply no good. No good at loving, no good at role modeling, no good at friendship, no good at life. And, there is no enjoyment there because everything is sampled through the bitter taste of hate. Hate is simple and hate is deadly. I don't think I was redeemed from the shadows of hell to live a life in the dark confines of hate.

So, the icy New Year's day plunge was a baptism of sorts. It was a mental challenge undertaken with no HA Trimama involved. How do I know? I was slightly terrified to take that pluge. HA Trimama fears nothing. It's a fearlessness that comes partnered with a deathwish mentality. I sort of knew that if I could stand at that dark hole slightly terrified, and jump anyhow, that a mentally tougher Trimama would climb out the other side.

And she did.

This year training is about growing mentally tougher step by step. No easy HA Trimama shortcuts. We're doing this one the hard way.

And what a great run it will be!

"I don't know what I was thinking."

"My little brother is a pest"

And so Hyphen Girl discovered a whole new level of provocation for younger brother as we made our way through Target's apparel area last night.

Most parents know that older siblings sneak into the bedrooms of sleeping younger siblings and install buttons into younger siblings psyche-surely this is why they know exactly which ones to push. I'm tempted to say Standing Long Jump has a thousand buttons, but really it boils down to one, and her name is Hyphen Girl.

"Look at this one" shoving tight little tweener tee into brother's face. "I could wear this one"

"Mommmmmm!" while simultaneously slugging older sister.

"Standing Long Jump hit me"

"Of course he did, you were provoking him and he reacted like 7 year old boys react."

I'm not sure there is a better training ground for humanity than sibling rivalry.

"SLJ, do you hit girls?"

"Nooooo."

"Even when HG is being mean?"

"Nooooo"

"Hyphen Girl do you want to spend the remainder of the evening as his personal servant-doing anything and everything he asks?"

"No!"

"Your choice, be kind to him now, or serve him for the rest of the night."

Of course SLJ was just hoping for HG to slip up, what greater power than indentured servitude of an older sister.

All parents seem intent on understanding their kids and what make them tick; if we understand them we can devise the perfect parenting strategy, or least avoid total psychological destruction. While at one time I confused SLJ's fairly consistent, silent contemplation, with a depth of person, the more I get to know him the simpler he seems to me.

For example, at a recent dinner SLJ was delighted to see that I had added a bowl of applesauce to the table.

"Wow, we have four things on our plate tonight. Usually we only have three. Four things is like being a king"

If I'd only known sooner that applesauce would confer royalty upon my son.

We're basically back to the three item paradigm, I didn't want to let it go to his head, that and I always forget applesauce while at the store. It's in one of those seldom perused aisles. I don't even recall how it arrived home with us on that one occasion, and I like applesauce. Dinner is a simple meal in our home, leaves more room for conversation when you don't spend the entire meal coaxing the kids to eat. Not that they don't try new things, but we generally save that for weekends and school vacations. I prefer to let the kids chat about their days and talk with dad.

I think SLJ is going to be a hard working, simple man, who loves his family and his friends, I pray daily that he finds a good woman who appreciates him.

Every so often I coincidentally gain insight into my kids through another event. This morning as I gathered firewood, my winter loving dog was racing around the wood pile looking for a stick to fetch. Naturally every stick I picked up for my bundle was "the stick" Sorry Leila, I just don't think you can really get your jaws around that log. Finally I found one suited to the game and flung it across the yard. She was off in a spray of snow and came running back happily, stick in mouth,

-programming pause, I have to build a train-

One train and one phone call later....

"Throw it again, throw it again....." wag, wag "Psych!" (HT to Eddie Murphy... I've got some ice cream...)

You know the drill. Just as you reach for the stick, the dog grabs it up and runs off, and you are supposed to chase her. Makes for pretty good cross training in the summer when you aren't holding 50 pounds of fire wood on hard packed snow. But here comes my "what were you thinking, t-shirt, moment"

I grew up in a hunting family and all hunting families have dogs. Retrieving dogs to be precise. Our retrievers were black labs, to which countless hours of training were devoted. Throw training dummy in air, make shotgun sound, "sit....mark....Spot" and Spot would run like crazy scoop up training dummy and return at the sound of the whistle. Ironic how a whimsied summer game of chase the dog around the yard with a sock in his mouth could render all those training hours useless. Or, so I was told after the first hunt of the year. Apparently running amok with duck in mouth trying to induce a game of tag is not what a retrieving dog is supposed to do.

Ooops.

No doubt there will be many more "what were you thinking moments" with The Tribe, and while amusing, I don't need a Target tee to promote that fact.

Finally, I went for a swim last night. Actually, I made an attempt a swim workout last night. There was open swim time at the pool so the tribe went along and had fun while I took over a lap lane. You have no idea how hard it is to concentrate on laps when every arrival at the deep end is greeted with one of the tribe at the bottom of your lane waving up at you smiling and goofy and impressed with themselves, (they were taking turns) and every return to the shallow end was marked with a check in with Buck Naked who neither wanted to swim, nor go to the kids gym but rather preferred drawing pictures while on the pool deck. Buck Naked can't swim, but I also assumed he couldn't drown in the 20 seconds it took to return from the deep end. So, back to the deep end, Oh, look Trihubby's joined the bottom of the pool lane. If only they could rent some scuba equipment for Florida. It'd bring spectating to a whole new level. You could even sell tours....

What was I thinking

STOP HIM!!!!!

Yea Texas!!!!!!


Sorry to all my blog friends who aren't a fan of football, just know that since the 2002 Ohio State championship game, there hasn't been this exciting a college championship game.

I was cheering for the 'Horns while I put in some bike time, because next to Colorado, I'd move to the great state of Texas in an instant.

The countdown to Chang's has been initiated. T-10 days and counting. We leave early next week, assuming Northwest doesn't file bankruptcy and shut the airline down. I am formatting a back up plan because it doesn't sound so good. Maybe Trihubby and I will Bonnie and Clyde the convertible we are renting and drive home. Since it probably won't be the Ford Mustang advertised, we will return it and our life savings to the car rental agency when we arrive.

I turn 40 in two and a half years and I've told Trihubby a thousand times that I want a '68 Ford Mustang, preferably convertible, for my birthday.

Any leads?

No?

That's ok, we've got some time :)

Happy New Year!

There are things that you dream about and you scheme about when you are a 20 year old looking for adventure and excitement. Then life comes along and sends you some detours and 17 years later you find yourself standing at the edge of a dark, gaping hole. And as you stare into the inky abyss, flecked with shards of ice you feel the weight of a thousand eyes, and what was once a dream begins to ebb towards nightmare domain. All bad dreams have spectators, a mob keenly intent on seeing you make a fool of yourself. The truly heinous ones capture the moment for the world to behold. So, you take a moment to contemplate life and you ask, what the hell am I doing here?


And, as with all things potentially cataclysmic, it is good to run and sort through the loose ends of your life. So you embark off on the snow packed path and encounter the white rabbit, an idol of snow that might lend some wisdom to your plight, except that said rabbit has been encrouched upon by an army of canines which threaten to reduce the icon to a pile of lemon slushie. So you run on, but all the while you feel the pull of the black hole beckoning you to return. And since the brand upon your arm is the mark of the guppy, the lowest position of social hierarchy, you are beholden to return.
But to your amazement and delight, while you were running a large enclave of fellow guppies have gathered, all drawn to the abyss, intent on virginal sacrifice. All join the queue that will return you to the hole. The mass jitters and twitters quietly, each one contemplating his rise in social standing if the hole can be conquered. Plunge, swim, under the flag, 12 meters, pole, ladder, graduation! As you stand in line watching your fellow guppies take the plunge surrounded by those sharks and barracudas who have paved the way, you barely notice the gusting wind as it buffets your naked legs and arms making all future shaving obsolete. Your turn approaches, all eyes are on you now, leaving only one thing left to say,

C A N N O N B A L L !!!!!!!!!!!!!!






Holy expletive Trihubby! The brief unconcious moment underwater notwithstanding, that was the damndest thing I've ever done. Will I do it again? Of course, there's a social order to climb and no one wants to be a minnow for the rest of their life.

Happy New Year!