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.

The century ride

That wasn't.

I trained. I anticipated. I ate pasta. I recruited.

But it just wasn't to be.

I thought this would be my first epic century ride-seemed fitting on my 38th (gulp) birthday.
But the weather refused to cooperate. Saturday's radar showed a mass of green the size of, well the entire midwest and it was cold (44 F) and rainy all day. The creepy monster storm was re cycling like a hurricane, blowing in from the east-we never get wind from the east- and swirling back up on itself. We adjusted our plans and opted for the 62 mile route. by 8 that night the floodwaters were rising and my training partner and I were bailing. I to stay afloat, she to jump ship altogether.

5 am Sunday morning came and the green mass hadn't moved, so we rolled over and went back to bed thinking a later start might help. 7:30 am-sometimes you just have to say to heck with it and ride.

It was 9:00 by the time we'd driven to the ride, unpacked, drank coffee, checked in etc.

The first hour was great. Our $6.00 rain suits worked like a charm and we were comfortably warm. Hit a landspeed record of 32 and pulled in 17 miles. Then came the real hills. and the wind. Damn 20-25 mph wind.

The hill that sealed my fate was a 1300 meter verticle with a 60 degree rise. Over the previous hills we'd fly down and spin like crazy up. I knew I was in trouble when flying down into the wind netted 12mph. I watched the spedometer drop 12-11-10-9-8-7-6 and I was standing. My quads were burning and there was 40 more miles to cover. So I disgraced myself and all bikerdom and walked the final 300 meters. Dang. Trihubby for the record reached the top with room to spare. He is such a stud.

We rolled on, but somewhere around mile 25 I realized this is just not fun. Fun can be working hard and gutting it out. But this was just straight into the wind, no talking, just gritting, not fun. And it was my birthday. We arrived at the rest stop and refueled with the idea that we would ride to mile 48 and reassess. But 12 miles of the 18 were straight into that wind. The Tribe was waiting at home to go out to dinner with grandma and grandpa and we were far from home.

So, we turned back to the rest stop, clocking 32 bitchin miles

100 will have to wait for another day

Broken Belly Buttons, Epic Training, An evil mistress, and stomach flu

I'm sitting here eating my BRAT diet (bananas, rice, apples, tea) hoping that this is the same 18 hour flu that's afflicted my various friends, trying not to fret that my training plan has gone into the abyss. It's just not right when you spend more time in the bathroom than training on any day. It's not even good reading time, speed reading is simply not my forte.

So, I meant to tell you that the boys are enscounced in shirt optional season which has yielded a constant fascination in Buck Naked Boy for his navel. "My Belly button is broken" "It gets all googly when I sit down" Googly being a kindergarten specific word that means his belly button disappears under the roll of his tummy when he sits down. Hence it is broken. Duct tape couldn't fix that one, and duct tape fixes everything. I am hereby ban from owning duct tape, it has something to do with destroying the finish on the cabinet when I used some to hang my calender. It was better than a nail hole- Trihubby didn't agree with my logic. He threw away my duct tape. I plan to have a roll of duct tape in my special needs bag.

I would probably devise a way to train today if it weren't for my epic training weekend. (I hope your mind didn't linger on duct tape.)

Friday 5.45 miles of hills, hills and more hills ran in 52 minutes
Saturday 13 mile run pacing between 8:30 and 9:15 min miles.

and Sunday, cue the orchestra I rode 61.2 miles in 3:53 which is just shy of 16mph average with top speed of 29mph and bottom speed of 12 mph (there were some nasty hills in the west metro). This means essentially nothing to anyone but me, but I rode alone, out into the countryside, for 4 hours. I told you learning to change my tire revolutionized my training. I seriously thought I might be restricted to keeping on my 12 mile loop that keeps me within 5 miles of home. I yelled triumphantly when I entered the driveway. That's the longest bike ride I've ever taken and it was just plain awesome. Next up, 102 miles of MN Iron-this Sunday. This flu had better be gone by then.

Finally, Trihubby has a new mistress and is threatening to spend considerable time with her. What is a Trimama to do?
Buy a pair of hot pants and cat eyes and join him, of course. Who knows, with the money we will save in gas we might be able to afford dinner out.

So here is the fairly humorous part of this: Trihubby wants me to get a motorcycle endorsement. He wants me learn to ride "Stella". Has he not seen the scraps on the car bumper? Does he not read my blogessional?

I bet I get my duct tape back.

Happy days all

Gone, gone, gone

My weekend post about epic rides and all things training just dissappeared into the 4th ring of blogger hell-I hope they enjoy it. It's too late to retype, but tomorrow is another day.

until then

good night


Link

I broke my arm today.

Did I frighten you? I don't have an Adjustable Rate Mortgage (ARM) but if I did I would refinance right about now. Of course drawing equity for some new tri stuff at the same time.

Remember when you were failing college calculus so you wrote a letter to your parents telling them you were pregnant, writing just enough minutia for the shock to sink in, only to pull a reverse at the end informing them that you weren't actually pregnant but that you were failing calculus; look on the bright side, things could be worse.

So, shocking you with I broke my arm today seemed like a suitable cushion for the real news:

I got a job as a stripper today.

Not the four minute floosy Durham type of stripper, no this is a performance for thousands. The really unique part of this stripping job is that you get to pull the rubber off of your friends. Friends like Iron Wil and Trisaratops and Spandex King and Chivalry Chris


Actually, Trihubby and I will be stripping together. On the shores of Lake Monona in Madison. On September 10th. I promise it will be a great show. Particularly because we won't be the main feature.

We'll be handing out refreshments from 11-3 as well. So, if you're in the area, stop on by.

On the home front, Buck Naked Boy's baby is doing fine. Hyphen Girl is giving me a little grannie warm up. For the next week I will be the proud grandmother of a ten pound bag of sugar. It's "Sugar baby" week. When I was in high school the psuedo baby was an egg, my how things change

We had the Festival of Fools to attend last night. The year-end mayhem of a school carnival where the Tribe, horribly over indulged, play midway games to earn stickers to trade in for yet more junk. The most coveted prize last night was the bottle of blue "invisible" ink. Ok, I admit, that was pretty cool. You squirt the girl you've been secretly in love with all year but have really just pestered to distraction because you are too young and immature to connect feelings with words, so you just bug her, and now squirt her, and she squeals and runs off to tell her gaggle of friends that cute boy squirt her and they all scream in acceptable delight and run off to play more games to earn their own bottle of ink to tag their future puppy love interests and by the time they have earned a bottle the blue streak across their back has turned into a mere wet spot.

Why can't all stains be formed by invisible ink? I think it's the Tide conspiracy. They really could make a fabric that turns all stains to water, but Tide continuously prowls for tinkershop patent aspire-er and secretly buys them off to keep said fabric from market place. Lord knows the entire cosmos would kilter if moms didn't spend 17.2 hours a week washing and folding laundry. Tide saves the universe. And I for one thank them wholeheartedly.

The gaming of interest for BNB was the cake walk. One ticket entitles you to circumvent a cake laden table, stepping from number to number, prod along by muzak blaring from radio speakers long since compromised by playing at concert level volume in teens room. Continuous looping of The Beach Boys "I get around" sung through a wax paper covered comb. Five minutes and 1.7 dizzying miles later, when volunteer dad returns from his distracted gazing upon the wonders of modern surgery displayed by Plastic Mom, the music halts and 24 feet scurry to find a number to possess. "say 5, say 5, say 5"

"10"

Oh, we didn't win. Again.

"I can't leave until I win."

So back in line, back in circle.

"I know why it's called a cake walk. Because you walk in a circle and someone wins a cake"

Well that makes the tuition payments worthwhile. Seven tries. Eight tries. Trihubby wanders in with Standing Long Jump. I coerce them into joining us with the hope that our occupation of four of twelve spots would assure a victory.

Say 7,8,9,10. Say 7,8,9,10

4 Little pony tail girl who has already won twice goes to pick out her third cake. I resist the urge to trip her as she saunters by.

I knew we should have employed a random scatter strategy. Odds are diminished in sequential selections.

Just when I began to feel like a deranged inmate on "The Midnight Express" we heard

12

Wonderful, glorious 12. We won! We won! I'm free! I'm free!

BNB selected a six pack of cupcakes that would not leave his hands for the next two hours. Smile and swagger: priceless.

Spring cleaning and ten mile run today. Riding the Liberty 70.3 course tomorrow.

Have a great weekend.

Ten thoughts from the weekend

1) Confidence lost: biking sucks. I'm going to die out on the roads. Why am I doing a tri when I can't bike? A trainer indoors is fiercely different than hills, wind and moving traffic.

2) Confidence regained: 117 training miles and one week later. I love biking. I love the open road. I can't wait to tri-I can't wait to pass people. Look ma, no hands. Well, I'm not that confident yet, but even Trihubby commented on my increase in speed (read confidence) on the bike.

3) When confronted by corpulent middle aged man in a pick up truck, who stops at a stop sign, disgorges from his truck and bawls in your face that he is going to turn you and your friends into speed bumps next time he sees you on the road you:
a) pull out your glock 9, shoot out his tires and offer him a ride home
b) only dream about A, while thanking him for his concern for your safety and ride on
c) regale with laughter when your tri club captain, who also happens to be a police officer in one of the most "hood" like cities in the Twins schools said motorist in the particulars of MN traffic law concerning bicylces.

4) Does anyone aside of myself have a problem with this picture? Apparently not as Trihubby was the object of attack at SLJ's birthday party. What is not immediately obvious is that Hyphen Girl and her friend are locked inside the car with an arsenal of water ballons that they lob through the window, quickly closing it before they can be attacked by water guns. My mini van has become an organic experience, I guess a water gun deluge could only help. Thankfully, no one slipped off the top of the car.

5) retaining wall 5- Trimama depth perception still 0. Apparently I need snow drifts to navigate.

6) Will 100 miles the end of April
a) kill me
b) be a good indicator of where I am and where I need to go
c) be an awesome way to spend a birthday-especially if The Gunner shows up with the RV-can you say tail gate city?

7) Trihubby got out on his niece's motorcycle this weekend-brought back a good deal of nostalgia-we met and fell in love riding his then bike around the lakes 17 springs ago. No, you may not buy another bike right now. (a point that we agree on so long as the kids are dependant on us)

8) Charts that track how far you have run are great. Wrist worn gps units that say things like "get moving lard butt" and "is that all you've got?" are evil.

9) Spring thunderstorms are awesome- spring thunderstorms that turn to snow will guarantee the arrival of the men in white lab coats.

10) Does the incredibly impressive owl that recently took up residence in the tree in our front yard necessarily mean my invitatation to Hogwarts was lost in the mail?

16.5 mile bike today, with 5 mile run- run and weights with core tomorrow

have a good one

Invasion of the ?

It's 72 degrees at 9:32 pm. The last time it was 72 degrees at night in Minnesota was early last fall. I can almost hear the polar ice caps melting. Let the whole damn thing melt as far as I'm concerned, ocean front property in Minnesota would be nice. Sorry southern United States, but you had your turn. Ok, I didn't mean that. I've had too much wine and not enough sleep and just spent six hours re creating Narnia for 8, eight year old boys. Just to make things fun I decided to double book the night and host a maundy Thursday meal and a birthday party on the same night. Lovely. The boys had fun, the grown ups were well fed and I missed one of the best nights of church in the entire year-but it was worth it.

In the fun department, I changed my bike tire the other day. First time ever for this bike. Did it with the same tube, which is saying something since I went through three with the mountain bike last year. I began the project with the idea of timing myself, but quickly gave that up when Buck Naked's idea of "help" was playing "hide the tool from mom". The bottom line, I did it. Something like diving in the pool to start a workout-it's the little things that boost your confidence.

Confidence is good.

Biking with my local tri club is not confidence boosting. They average somewhere between 19 mph and lightspeed. It's all the same when all you see is backs-and then nothing. We covered 35 miles (including the ride from home to the meeting spot)-not bad for me, not bad at all. The beginning of the ride is mentally tough, which gives way to hills that I would flatten if I were queen for the day, but the final 15 miles are nice rolling hills and scenic lake. The good news is that I felt very strong at the end and wasn't ready to get off the bike yet. A tribute to all those trainer miles. I an so not ready for a century ride. That better change in the next 2 weeks.

I ride my first ever 100 on April 30th-my birthday. I had the choice between the Big Sur Marathon and this ride. I need saddle time, so it was stay in town and ride like crazy. I think I need to fill my shorts with jello. 100 miles is a long way to ride. Met up with Iron Chris on the ride-he is a great guy. How awesome is it that you meet so many strangers in the blogosphere, and some of them become real, in the flesh, good guys. How fortunate am I?

I departed from The Plan this week to really focus on biking, but I need to get in a swim and run tomorrow- so off to bed. Sat holds another 2 hour ride adventure.

Have a great weekend!

BuckNakedBoy is Pregnant, I'm about to be an accomplice to a double homicide and the garage just burned down.

But other than that we are fine here.

I took The Tribe to the dentist the other week and unbeknownst to me, Buck Naked Boy came home pregnant. The fact that he is a five year old boy notwithstanding, I had no idea they could do that at the dentist. Yet, he assures me that he is having a baby; a girl in fact because the dentist told him and it's going to come out of his booty-Standing Long Jump told him this was so. No matter of logic can dissuade him from his assertion.

So, I'm going to be a grandma.

Soapinator is traveling from Indiana to Oregon on a pioneer trail and I helped her pack the covered wagon. Apparantly one water barrel isn't sufficient, and they are dying of thirst somewhere in Texas- which if you ask me seems like a very ass backward way to get to Oregon (pronounced Or Gone) The prescribed option would be to pay ten dollars to buy water from the well, but why waste a few greenbacks when you've packed a barrel of gun powder. Her team decided to raid the well, kill the sentries and be on their way. I should have known there would be problems when she failed the 10 Commandments in Bible.

Do grandma's look good in stripes?

I finished my brick today with a run to the cigar store thinking it would be a beautiful night to sit out by the fire and enjoy the beginning of spring training. I jumped into the shower, thinking how lovely and even a little romantic it would be to have firelight flickering in through the glass block window of the bathroom. Trihubby, the aspiring arsonist, took his cue from God Almighty leading his people through the desert, and erected a 16 foot wall of flame in the fire pit. On the bright side, there is a strong chance of finding diamonds amongst the sand of the patio brick in the morning, which will be beneficial as I'm fairly certain that the color- fade resistant warranty on the new garage siding does not cover molten ash discoloration and melting.

It all evens out in the end.

In my aspiration to begin biking to Florida by November (Ellie, if you beat me there I'll buy you a beer) I've made it 29 miles to St. Paul. Not exactly the start I anticipated, but how could I leave with troubles like these?

The missing link

It was Standing Long Jumps (SLJ) 8th birthday Sunday. He got a bike (went the less expensive route since he wouldn't know the difference) "I've got shocks!" "I've got gears!" It was boy nirvana. They had a soft tail model, so the "Green Goblin" looks pretty tweaked. He needed a new helmet so I picked one up at the same time. However I didn't notice the name of the helmet at the time. - The Missing Link

"Ha, SLJ's the missing link."

How sublime for a big sister when she can tease younger brother without him knowing he is being called a half step from Neanderthal. It's in the ball park of "SLJ, your epidermis is showing!" He promptly moved to transform her into a rabbit with his new magic set. Grandma and grandpa went the cheap route too, as the wand just didn't produce the desired result.


Sunday is family breakfast day, or brunch as it were. It's the only meal of the day so it's generally met with gusto and enthusiasm. Add a family birthday and we're talking the lalapalooza of Sunday breakfast. I generally zip over to the store after church to pick up the fixings and buy food for the week. Today as I backed out of the driveway Trihubby yelled to tell me some friend was going to call me so turn my phone on. Some mysterious friend, and he had no idea who it was.---riiiigggghhhhtttttt. It took about 10 seconds to figure out that I was on deck to be the "Surprised" triathlete of the week on Get Your Geek On podcast. Fortunately, it only took another 10 seconds before THE CALL arrived, because if I'd had a chance to think about it, I probably wouldn't have answered the phone. Not that I don't want to talk to Iron Wil and Kahuna, I'd love to sit and chat with them for hours. They are two people who have had more positive influence in my life than any one in at least a decade. Because, while I have many friends and aquaintances, triathlon has introduced an absolute paradigm shift into my life. So, the concept of actually talking with Wil and Kahuna made me nervous as hell. Recall my instant stupidity when meeting Jesse Stensland. When I grow tired while swimming I think, "keep moving Iron Wil wouldn't stop" or when the idea of biking intimidates me (like now because my bike just doesn't fit right and I feel like a massive crash waiting to happen) I think "Kahuna wouldn't back down now". If I don't train, if I don't push, I don't get the opportunity to stay on this great team. Of course I could still blog, but for me, being a part of the team is doing more than sitting in the bleachers. Kahuna and Iron Wil are the anchor and the rudder (they can fight over who is which) for me, because they started it all, and they lead well. Kahuna asked me why I got into multisport-you can listen to the podcast for the rest of that story- but the real answer is why I stayed in multisport.

It's because I love it! I love being on this team. I love reading all the blogs and seeing all of the challenges taken and challenges conquered. I love seeing the creativity and commitment as we all contort our lives to pursue these endeavors. Triathlon isn't all of life, but it just seems to make all of life better.

So, I did answer the phone and we had a lovely chat about a variety of topics such as cooking faux paux, man busting manatees that make the ocean a frightening place, training, taxes, tattoos and tequila. There is a good chance that the hair on Kahuna's cochlea is still lying flat, so it might be worthwhile to listen to that segment during an intense hill workout. At least for my part, it felt like depth charge intensity, but that might just be due to my excitement.

Saturday was a double workout to make up for missing Friday, so I did 3000 yards in the pool, pleasantly surprised that my improved hand entry moved that time back to 55 minutes. I've let go of some of the drill training and returned to simple form swimming, and it feels good. The pool was crowded so the swimming was SOS like. Circle swim with constant snaking around bodies. I like the extra chop in the water that swim lessons and kids jumping into the pool provides.

300 w/u
2X400 2nd pull ri :30
3X300 3rd pull ri :30
3X200 3rd pull ri:30
3X100 3rd pull
100 c/d

Then I ran in the afternoon with Trihubby, a easy 45 minute 5 miler.
Today it's going to be 70-2 hour bike ride-let's go baby!

I managed to stay on green today.

"I managed to stay on green today. " Standing Long Jump (SLJ) stated with great relief. Second grade behavior is governed by stop lights. Good behavior-green, disruptive-yellow (warning, slow down), constant disruption-red and congratulations you've earned a trip to the principal's office. Now jump into my mind which cruises at hypersonic jet speed when it comes to school and behavior. I live in this precarious balance between knowing that boys are boys and need to be able to be boys, versus zero tolerance for making a teacher's responsibility greater because you don't want to exercise self control and want to disrupt the class. As I learned at our recent conferences, this is the kid who spontaneously and regularly breaks into an arbitrary range of noises during class. He sings, hums, buzzes, etc. primarily when he has completed his work and is waiting to move on to the next assignment. I can see where it drives his teacher nuts, but I had to laugh in spite of myself-I do the same thing-the singing and humming part. I always have a song in my head, and I love to torment my kids with knowing obscure lines from songs that mimic anything they say. But I digress, back to warp speed evaluation of "I managed to not get in trouble today"

What does that mean, you managed to stay on green?
As opposed to every other day?
Are you getting in trouble?
Did I miss a call from a teacher?
Talk to me boy!

Good thing SLJ does not live inside my head and was able to nochalantly inform me

"I managed to stay on green even with a substitute teacher. I've never managed that before." If I have zero tolerance for misbehavior, the substitute teacher in question has 32 degrees below zero tolerance for misbehavior. This sub governs with a yellow fist, particularly when it comes to boys. I think they breathe a sigh of relief when the day ends with their proverbial backsides in tact. Because, while the school doesn't employ corporal punishment, it is not a pleasant experience to visit the principal, red card in hand. He stayed on green with the sub nazi-that's my boy.

SLJ turns 8 on Sunday and of course I wonder where my little boy went, but I love the young man that he is becoming. We are looking for a bike for him-an upgrade from the single speed discount store model. I'm inclined to think he is old enough to take care of a "real" bike, so we are looking into the Trek multi gear models. My only caution is that bikes tend to ride off in our neighborhood and SLJ tends to be a little absent minded and will leave his bike in the driveway regularly. It's a tough call when deciding what degree of risk you want to expose your kid to versus what level of responsibility and privilege you want him to have. If we upgrade to a little larger, but cheap bike, a moment of forgetfulness costs a lot less and the bike could be replaced. On the other hand, the Trek bike would just be a far better bike to suit the purposes of family outings and to let him know we trust him with more expensive things. And his equally absent minded sister has taken very good care of her "upgrade" bike. So, we'll see.

Have a great weekend-it's going to be warm and sunny here-all training will be outdoors-glad there's no swimming in the mix.


Link

Bugs in the house? It must be spring.

I'm finding cans filled with grass, topped with ventilated saran wrap around the house-it must be spring. Each can holds some dilapidated moth Soapinator is trying to resuscitate. Thank goodness she hasn't found any baby rodents etc. My friends dog had a tasty dinner of something the other day. Most likely baby racoons that were brought up out of the sewer during the recent deluge. This week has been going by quickly but I'm managing to continue on The Plan. Sunday was a long run.

I didn't want to run but my coach kicked me out the door-into the freezing rain. Freezing rain is not a euphemysm here-it was raining and the temp read 36. Ok, not exactly freezing but read on. I didn't want to run until Bono told me "I want to run" as the first song to pop up on the ipod. I was up the hill before "I want to hide" so no chance going back and burrowing under the down comforter like I wanted to do. The rain was more like foggy spitting when I began, but by mile 4 it was pouring. My tights were clinging to my legs at first, but body heat lost out to windchill, my tights froze and I won't be shaving for a week. If for no other reason than coach deserves some prickle. By the time "I fell into a burning ring of fire" came up I was ready to take the song literally. I clicked off 8 or 9 miles in what was scheduled as a 1:20 run. I really need a Garmin (hint hint-bday/mom day-I know you read this Trihubby and Hyphen girl)

Yesterday was the first outdoor bike ride of the season-glorious. At first I felt like a one year old learning to walk, but by mile 6 it was all coming back to me. I need to gain confidence in my balancing ability-"Training for Ironman" suggests setting up cans and weaving around them. I ride a black top trail that is lined, so I could weave for miles and miles. (The Who missed it on that song-who cares about seeing when you can weave) I stuck with The Plan and only rode one loop which took an hour. This is a good training path because it seems to always be windy.

Swam 1700 yards today and got into the swimming groove-booyah! I think I hit on a good stroke entry technique that didn't include my bicep slapping the water. I don't think slapping is good. Don't ask me why, I've started my last two swims by diving into the pool. I've never done that before, but for some reason it felt good. As if I knew what I was doing. Ended the workout with a 3.5 mile run which reminded me why stretching is good and that I need to remember it.

I couldn't touch my toes this morning and groaned when I got out of bed. Strethching is good.

So, life is good, The Tribe is well and this post is entirely too long.

It's Shopping Time!

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


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

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

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

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

I've got Pith!

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

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

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

Have a good one!


Link

Inquire no longer...

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

Michelle Lombardo: Advanatage? Disadvantage?

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

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

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

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

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

I hit the wall today, twice

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

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

Are falsies legal?

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

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

Disclaimer over

I hate pig butt!

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

No passing on the left

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

TTFN

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

I think it's back to the drawing board-

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


TTFN

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

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



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

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

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

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

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

Yea me.

Happiness is a Port a Potty when the Kashi kicks in

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

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

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

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

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

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

Fresh Strawberries.

Smile world, it's spring.

More choices

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

But,



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

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

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

Why are you all dressed up?

Questioned Hyphen Girl yesterday morning.

This means that Trimama was:

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

or

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

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

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

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

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

Move about 300 miles south.

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

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

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

...and the ties that set you free

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

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

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

Just so long as those bad weeks remain rare :)

Thanks again all.

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

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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