There are a few things in life the Good Lord must have intended me to see

and this is one of them. How else could I explain my flat tire 13 miles outside of Harlowton, Montana? Sure enough, the gauge reading tire pressure began winking at me and I watched as 40 psi went to 30, to 20 to 10 until I finally found a place to pull over on the two lane road. Now, I had contemplated what I would do with a car emergency, as a single mom with my five children, out in the middle of no where, and I was comforted in knowing that Mrs. Greyhound was my escort. How lucky for us that the car rental company neglected to include a drivers manual with the tire iron. But the Good Lord was at work, and somehow we figured out how to lower the doughnut from it's nest in the undercarriage, jacked up the car with the help of Urp and Chopper, and reloaded. That manual would have come in handy as we reconfigured the interior of the car trying to lift out the spare, only to discover a wee small hole in the bumper that the tire iron slipped through, to turn a bolt to lower the spare. (I know, I'm amazing)

Back to Harlowton, back to the "Testy Festy". Two nice young men fix our tire, we lunch and reload and head back out of town, at peace with the universe for having experienced the TF.

However, I am not at peace with the world of never ending beans. About 200 miles out of Billings I met with a local as I surveyed the filling station map.

"Where ya headed?"

Roundup.

"Take the interstate to 12 and turn off. The first town you meet up you gotta stop for some beans"

Beans?

"Yup. 100 year old pot. They never cleaned it out. Just add new beans everyday. Best beans anywhere."

Now for some odd reason, 100 year old beans appealed to me. You can't beat a good pot of beans. If nothing else, I needed a picture of the magic pot. But bean town never materialized. There was an exit on 12, I kept looking for a town. No town, just a barn. Cue the Twilight Zone music. Is it possible only those with the raw faith to heed a stranger's summon, who will actually take the exit, get to experience the magic beans. Damn.

On the plus side, most people never got to leave those TZ towns, and we had a dude ranch to find.

We landed safely in Coeur D Alene around 6:00 local time, a little crusty, a lot dusty and in great delight at our home for the next several days.

DiLicious has her Sherpa Shack prepped and ready to party. The athletes are wrapping up their preparations. There is a blogger swim at 9 this morning. Then off to the amusement park with The Tribe, Big J and company, and the Greyhounds. Then tomorrow it's the big dance. Sherpa Di and I are taking over the microphone from the boys, so be ready to banter when we shove the mic in your face.

More from the party so big only the West could host it, later.

Even the Rainbows are bigger here

Two Montana evenings, two gorgeous thunderstorms rolling across the plains. Mrs. Greyhound and I sat on the screen porch drinking wine, listening to the coyotes hunting, (thank goodness no bears yet) and watching the lightening flash.

Our new best friends


11 year old horse heaven


Ready to ride Urp, Chopper and I headed out on a guided ATV adventure up into the hills. We met up with the rest of the group who arrived by horseback.





We are staying at a working cattle ranch. The yearlings are being made ready for market, which entails a lot of wrangling and moving of cattle. In spite of all our current technology, it remains that the best way to wrangle cattle is by horse. Western poetry unfolding as you watch the men, their horses and the work dogs drive the cattle. I could live here.


So that is day one of our Great West Adventure!

You know it's time for vacation when....

...you've broken the last of your souvenir mugs from the previous vacation

.....you can't shake the vacation songs from your head- I am so downloading Van Halen's Diver Down album, especially their rendition of Happy Trails.

I'd give you more, but there is laundry, packing, shopping, mapping and wow left to get done before O dark hundred Tuesday Morning. I'm a morning driver and I want the day at least 2/3rds done by lunch time.

See you all in CdA!!!!

I hate Steve Jobs

Well, actually, I have a working iphone and therefore was not home from work throughout the day checking status reports on the release of 2. But we are a collective unit here in the Trimama household, so if one of us hates Steve Jobs, we all hate Steve Jobs. The man clearly has no idea how important "Monkeyball" is to a family vacation or else he would have had the minions working overtime to produce. Oh well.

"Mom, you got new shoes". This being the third Tribe member to notice the nifty pair of hiking sandals I grabbed from the clearance rack at REI caused me to realize one of two things: I need to get out and shop more; one new pair of shoes a year (that aren't tri intended) probably puts my merit as a woman at risk. And two, It's summertime! These are my annual summertime shoes. Last years REI summertime shoes held up extremely well, they will continue to represent good times.

We were at REI to find more neoprene for Tac. He is now so sufficiently bedecked in neoprene he could perform a moonwalk undeterred. If we had been this mindful of protection years ago there would be no Tribe. "How are you going to even know you have swam if you never feel the water?"

"Stop humming Darth Vadar music!" How can I help myself. We are on the hourly countdown to CdA, and since each pronouncement has an air of angst, DV music seemed suitable.

Try it. See, it works.

But Ironman isn't doom, it's adventure. So the new theme music, heretofore will be, Bum, bum, bum, bum, bum, bum, Raiders of the Lost Ark.

Steve Jobs gets Darth Vadar.

We are ironing out the post- school stress and depression wrinkles from the Tribe. Some acclimate to summer better then others, and I am giving them all a wide berth to be chippy and short; family needs to be a safe place to vent, so long as no gratuitous damage is done in the venting. Vacation will be a good remedy for all.

"Mom, we need the guy who fixes the front door to come."

The guy who fixes the front door was currently making cookies, but has otherwise been detained by training and keeping a roof over our head.

The handle has fallen off of the front, glass, storm door. That has nothing to do with the constant slamming of that door by the Tribe et al.

It certainly has nothing to do with the Soapinator's Pied Piper effect in the neighborhood. Every time I glance outside there is some new kid in my yard.

"Who is that?"

"So and so"

"Where is he from?"

"I don't know, but he's nice"

Add one more Little Neighbor Kid to the mix and it's all good. Off, to Costco I go, Little Neighbor Kids get hungry. But I'm hiding the water canons before I leave. Last time I returned to find a nice trail of grass, mud and water going in the front door and out the back. Apparently they figured out the shortest distance between two points, say the front yard to the back yard, is through the house. Not to mention the nice launching pad off the back steps.

Training is going well. For the amusement of al I am going to the "speed" workout with my Local Tri Club tonight. I'm really only going because, A) I can-finally and B) there are a number of people I haven't seen all winter and I look forward to catching up with them. Verbally, not physically. Who knows, I might shave a few seconds off my 5K.

I trained 7 clients in 6 hours yesterday. Whew. Collectively, I probably completed a few hundred squats, lunges, ab curls and plank minutes.

So, that's a wrap. By this time next week, if all goes according to plan, I'll be eating breakfast in Fargo.

Not your average race report

But first a little chat about Trimama's bootay. I've noticed a mysterious trend of pictures lately, with an unusual emphasis on my posterior. I thought I was being paranoid until I was looking through "Highlight" pictures with Little Neighbor Boy (LNB) last night. I was showing him pics from the kids Miracles of Mitch tri last summer. 60 highlight photos including this. (sorry you've got to scroll to pic 41) I've long threatened to rent the space. I'd prefer Iron Jenny sponsorship with Immodium. I'd be proud to wear an Immodium singlet so long as "We don't run" could be emblazoned on my back side. I'm on the wrong computer to post more derierre pics to prove my point, and that would be gratuitous for this family friendly blog.

So, on to the Buffalo Triathlon race report. Let me just say, it feels great to be a triathlete. I wrote my buddy Kahuna an email yesterday following an early morning lake swim, it just doesn't get much sweeter then this. And it's sweet because I have family and friends and a sense of humor (which becomes essential as the race unfolds) but let's go back a week or so shall we.

For any of you readers who track back a few years with me, you know I carry a certain amount of baggage in my brain that pops up in PTSD symptoms. Generally, healthy living, good meds, a great support system, a rock solid faith and a cold beer at the end of the day all keep the nightmares in check. But some weeks, the nightmares win and decide to pop up during the day. I hate these weeks because there is a decisive shift from my controlling the nightmares to the nightmares controlling me. My brain gets tired, I have to sleep more, and I definitely need to go at it on auto pilot a little more. Flashbacks are weird. They tug at your emotions for a good deal of time, reaching out for your conscious mind, like a splinter festering. Eventually whatever event is driving the wreck makes it's way to the mental video room and all hell breaks loose. Blah. Strangely, this nightmare made a full blown appearance while I was out on a training run with Taconite. (Now Tac isn't all that scary to run with, by contrast, he knows well how to sit quietly in the car while I tremble, and hold my hand until all is well) It's not all that uncommon for nightmares to pop while I train-training builds seratonin-seratonin is one of the complex chemicals of memory. Exercise has been an essential tool toward a healthy, integrated life for me. So, there I was running, brain freaking out, and I could feel my blood sugar plummet. My brain was working overtime. I made it back to the car, drank some water, ate a cookie and sat there and trembled until the thoughts passed. Tac arrived, and waited with me. Tac's the only one I let in on this part of my life. I tend to be pretty reticent about talking about my life. One might think talking would help, but by contrast, it's more like turning out the lights and waiting for the monsters to come out from under the bed. I tread carefully. There's enough toxin in the world anyhow. So, why share now, Trimama?

Because, sharing what my week was about gives you a little insight into how freakin awesome it was to be back to racing again!

Now the bummer of PTSD is that you can contain it but you really (at least that I know) can't control it. In the back of my mind I'm always aware (and a little cautious) of the potential on the race course. Racing seems to have it's own compartment in my brain- I think it's because it's so darn fun! So, let's get on with the race.

I bought a new wet suit on Ebay-long sleeve. As of Saturday, time and weather had not permitted me to hit the open water in this suit. So, Saturday morning, 0600, with fog lifting off the chilly lakes, Tac, TriThunderboy and I hit our favorite training lake. The suit worked like a dream How can you go wrong swimming with the rising sun? I hit the sand after a good 30 minute training swim and dolphined out of the water, practicing for T1. The suit was a bit tough to pull off the legs, they were too long. But here in lies my dilemma, I didn't want to alter the suit before racing in it because if the legs are in the wrong place my calves cramp on the swim. So I left it long. And here is were a sense of humor becomes important.

Race morning was beautiful and the rubber ducky's were towed into position. I bantered with my fellow athletes, met up with friends I knew and made my way to the lake. A fellow IMAZ athlete, Robert met me lakeside and we zipped each other up. Or at least I thought we did. The horn blew, I took off, and about 150 yards out I felt a sudden chill down my back. Hmm. I don't recall that feeling, and I know my wet suit was toasty when I took off. Robert had missed the top of the zipper and my back opened. I made my way to a lifeguard for help getting zipped back up. 3 or so minutes later I was back in the water. The rest of the swim was uneventful until I hit the shore. I can strip in 15 seconds on shore with help from the water. Not today. The wet suit that didn't want to stay on, didn't want to come off. Several of my friends, Nick, Laura, Tac, as well as the crowd were there cheering. Go, Trimama, Go. "I can't get my da*& wet suit off!" Nick had some good advice, standup and push at it with my legs. Ok, then I went down. And my knee screamed at me. And for a brief moment I thought that was the end of the season. "Don't panic. Stand up" "Ok, I can stand" Finally, after 4-5 minutes wrestling with it, I finally pulled my left leg out. The crowd cheered. That was a little embarassing. And riotously funny at the same time. I mean what are you going to do. (Note to self: scissors, body glide and practice)

Swim 34:XX Now, when I subtract my buffoonery, that is a Trimama PR!! And I never felt like I was swimming hard, just nice easy strokes. (at the risk of sounding like a chronically injured person, I think I have even more swim in me- I'd had a chiropractic appointment and the doc dislocated my left arm Friday. I got HG to relocate it Saturday, but it was tender from swimming Sat morning, so I favored it- I need to do some PT and get those interior shoulder muscles stronger)

Bike: No FEAR! I Flew! I past people and I rocked the course with another PR! My cyclocomputer hadn't been working, but bubble bike must have known it was time to race, because, when I needed it, I looked down expecting to see blank and was pleased to see 22's often enough. Got a lot of inquiries about my tattoo. I think it made folks feel better as I past them. Oh, she's and Ironman, she can pass me. I like making folks feel better about themselves, so I'm upgrading the tattoo to an M-Dot with a Yellow winking smiley face in the circle, after Arizona. I don't know my final time, but my bike computer had me at 18 over 24.5 miles. So, while my knee can be jacked up on the bike at times, giving me no power whatsoever, all of the squats and lunges seems to have built some other power that engages at opportune time. That, or it was the "fast" air I had the race mechanic put into the tires pre race. Finally, aerobottles- use them, love them. They make nutrition simple and constant.

Run: uggh. Well, not really. It's just that it takes me 2 miles to warm up, this race no exception. My goal was to do the 10K in an hour. I felt great overall. I never bonked and I had a strong final 3 miles, surprising Tac. But it still took me 1:04 to finish. I'd forgotten the hills on the run. The very good thing was that the hip junk that plagued my half mary was no where to be found and my legs felt good, albeit slow. Maybe I need to do Trisaratops blood doping technique :-)

So, 3:07 total time. My goal was to break 3:10. My previous time on this course was a 2:57-but I knew that was elusive considering the knee and the continued rehab. I finished strong and ecstatic.

I am so ready to train again. Next up, Chisago Half in July.

The Tribe wraps up school this week, with the big 8th grade graduation. One final week of a quiet house. I'm going to need training this summer :-)

3 weeks to Coeur D Alene!

Well, Al didn't drown

He actually bought a training pack, so it will be back to the pool with the hopes that my lip enunciation will be sufficient. Did I mention Al speaks only broken english. Shows how articulate Trimama truly is; I am wicked at charades though.

I took half The Tribe on the weekly sojourn to Costco, an atypical Saturday errand, and I instantly recalled why when I hit the parking lot. Costco, the random labyrinth where strawberries stocked next to sunglasses makes perfect sense to some supply chain manager. I'm clueless, except in my own Costco, which makes perfect sense to me, therefore, I can never move. What makes little sense to me is shoppers who discard unwanted items several aisles from their pick up point. I am also clueless as to what compelled the patron with the dual melons to leave them in the toilet paper aisle. What forces of nature prevailed upon a person to drop the melons for the tp? I entertained myself with a tale of woe for the duration of my shopping excursion. At some point she will meet up with the fellow who was carting 6 quarts of blueberries, and only 6 quarts of blueberries, through the parking lot when we arrived. I hope he is making cordial.

Spring has sprung in all it's glory, lilacs, cherry and apple blossoms, hmmmmm. The Tribe pitched a tent in the backyard and intends to sleep under the stars tonight. I'll leave the back door open. Last Saturday I biked 45 miles up hill and into the wind with Tac. Sunday I ran 13 miles up hill and into the wind at the Hastings Apple Blossom run. Today I met up with IronJenny, Iron Nick, Jumper, Robert, Iron Steve and Greg and about 150 other local cyclists to do the first supported century of our tri club. My plan was to do 50. 25 more miles up hill and into the wind and it finally occurred to meet that maybe we should ride the loop backward. Ahhh. Downhill with a tail wind is nice. We were riding a circle, as Iron Jenny pointed out, but there is something to be said for "into the wind to start", "back to the wind to finish."

I rode most of the time with Jumper as my wingman, what a great guy. Our legs were toast when we made the final turn, falling short of the 50 mile goal, but pleased with the overall ride. My new motto "Suck it up Trimama and just do it" I've had to say that to myself a lot lately as I've come to realize that my days of 8:xx min miles and strength on the hills are a thing of the past. 4 months of atrophied quadriceps is tougher to overcome then I could have imagined. So, when I think I suck and feel like quitting, especially when I feel like the anchor around everyone's neck on a group ride, I just say "suck it up and go". It's not going to get better whining about it. It certainly isn't going to improve by quitting on myself. So, I take every opportunity and see it as a building process. With my first tri i(n almost a year) next weekend, I think I'm going to be saying that a lot. This whole Tri thing is a tremendous opportunity that a very small minority have a chance to partake in, I don't want to shame myself by complaining that it's not precisely what I want it to be.

That includes the water temperature. You won't hear a single murmur out me about 52 degree water. Not a peep. My lips will be chattering too hard to say anything at all.

HG just returned from a week in Chicago with her class. It's an 8th grade rite of passage that manages to pack every site seeing adventure in the windy city into 3 days. I was pooped reading the itinary. They had a great time and came back with memories for a lifetime.

School is wrapping up for the year, yea. I find the pace of summer very agreeable. We depart for CdA mid June-totally psyched! Our plans include a dude ranch in Montana, Ironman of course (we are the finish line), Orca Island in the San Juans and wrapping the whole thing up in Glacier National. Road trip baby! I'm looking forward to meeting all the bloggie folks.

I want to compile a map of arrival dates and lodging for everyone so we can make a plan of meeting attack. Shoot me an email and I'll see what I can do to put it all together.

For those of you training, enjoy the final push and for us Sherpa folks, hang in there, it's almost here :-)!

Happy and blessed Memorial Weekend

Redefining Snuggle Time

With me arising at 4 am two days a week to work, and Tac going out at 4 am on the two opposing days, our morning snuggle time has waned. We could adapt if we wanted to rouse earlier, but sleep time is already a commodity. So, this morning, a Tac swim morning, I decided we needed to redefine snuggle time. Not like this though, that's just odd. I don't want to snuggle a perfect stranger. If I wanted to snuggle a stranger, I'd work 80 hours a week. This morning I showed for a rare early am swim session. Sharing a lane as swim support=snuggle time, well sort of. I'm sure Tac was delighted to see me, except he wasn't wearing his contacts so I could just as easily been the 80 year old in the lane next to him. That would have been preferable I'm sure, when I scooped down like the mom that I am and picked up his towel that was lying in the gutter getting wet. The towel that enfolded his beloved iphone. Hey look, an iphone sinks, good thing it's in a waterproof case.

Apparently there is no such thing as a waterproof case for an iphone. Steve Jobs is a moron. (I have to blame someone, it certainly wouldn't fall on the person who brings their non waterproof iphone to the side of a pool, or for that matter the person who carries their phone around in a pocket without protection) I know, I am evil.

I get a chance to redeem myself tomorrow with a new client. New client is hearing impaired but assured me he sort of reads lips and his aides would be in a ziploc bag by the side of the pool if he needed to hear me. I fail to understand how that will help him as he goes down for the third time. I sincerely think if you get Trimama in the pool in her swimsuit you should have to pay more, if for no other reason then my liability insurance is going to skyrocket after this. " Trimama I didn't know you were a swim instructor." I didn't either, but I did a triathlon, so close enough in my managers mind. I get the deaf, drowning guy.

Tac and HG just returned from rugby, so it's dinner time

Put your money where your values are

I travelled to small town americana yesterday on an errand. The Twin Cities are a uniquely vibrant town where a 30 minute drive puts you smack in the middle of no where. Not quite so much "no where" as it was 150 years ago when fellows like Blakely settled in with their ox and families to conjure an existence from a rich but unforgiving land. Blakely must have been a decent fellow as eventually others settled by the Blakely place and now he is a town. I would like to be a town someday. Comfrey was a town as well, until the '98 tornado swept it off the map. Amazing how a force of nature can stop history in it's tracks. My few bucks and prayers go out to the citizens of Myanmar who certainly have a renewed respect for the forces of nature.

I chatted with a client yesterday about events unfolding in the world. We were breaking it down to our level; what can I do? He sells eco friendly cleaning supplies. I suggested he sell "put your money where your values are". I expect a residual check in the mail. I also proffered the idea that if every person in America ate only the calories they needed to sustain their life for one day, perhaps a week; no more then you need, no waste, a definite impact could be made. Consider your latest walk through a restaurant, I see a lot of waste on plates. Multiply that by 300 million. A lean america would conserve immensely. Fuel, health care, food costs, waste, my goodness add it all up. I don't suspect an obese nation will go lean for the sake of humanity anytime soon, but I can dream. The law of unintended consequences leads me to think I'm not a big fan of the new light bulbs. I can't eat native bred fish for the mercury concentration in the water. How about if I only use the lights I need, and turn them off when I leave the room? What if we all only used what we needed?

The law of unintended consequences hit closer to home Sunday afternoon. Tac was gone for the weekend and Chopper takes that as a license to whine and back talk. I'm not a big fan of back talk. More to the point, I'm not a big fan of kids disrespecting their elders. He went to his room. I went to mine for an afternoon recovery from my morning LSD run. Before I succumbed to that delicious sleep of fatigue, I told the Soapinator to free Chopper from his penance in ten minutes. An hour later I awoke, vaguely aware that a voice was missing from the murmur in the living room. Chopper must have fallen into a much needed nap. Good, except for the pile of paper airplanes accumulating at the bottom of the stairs. "mom, cin i com don now?" a dozen times. Perhaps he could have put a finer point on his question if he had landed a plane against the head of his forgetful sister. Chopper is our industrious one.

"Oh, I don't care".
Mom, you say that a lot lately. demanding an explanation. Well, there are questions that require a definitive no, such as, "Mom can I cut Soapinator's hair?" and some that earn an immediate "yes" Mom, do you want a backrub?" Then there are the ones I really want to say "no" to, but for lack of a moral or immediate threat to life or limb or school pictures, I have to relent and say yes. Such as, "mom, can we build a fort in the living room?" Knowing full well that in spite of well meaning promises to clean up after themselves, there will be an aftermath. The Tribe is afterall their own act of nature. Here is where my two interests collide. I don't want more work, but I also want them to play and create and explore. So, in counting the costs, my resignation generally falls with "oh, I don't care"

I had an awesome birthday, primarily because of all the phone calls, texts, comments and etc. Thanks friends and family!

Tac is back, tan and rejuvenated by his time away- huge thanks to Kahuna, Grayhound and Curly Sue for hanging with the Big guy!

I declare the war on global warming over-we won!

I began this year, (with Minnesota's coldest winter in recent history,) joking that this was God's Job-like response to Al Gore.

It's not funny anymore.

For Minneapolis, MN 55426

Temp
23.8°F

So Far Today
Lo: 21°FRain: 0.00"Hi: 25°FGust: NE 0
Wind Chill: 24°F

Your Forecast for Minneapolis, MN
Today
Hi: 55 °F Lo: 38 °F
Partly Cloudy... more
Wednesday
Hi: 63 °FLo: 47 °F
Partly Cloudy... more

I have yet to see a tulip or crocus and nary a leaf on a tree. Aaaaaaggggghhhhhhhhhh!!!!!!!!!!!!

Ok, I'm done.

Not much of a prelude to Happy Birthday to Me!

I turn 40 tomorrow. (long philosophical post to follow)

In honor of 40, I'll be doing

4000 yard swim (4 miles? You're freakin kidding me-my arms would pop out of their sockets)
40 mile bike
4 mile run.

Then I'm going to go watch HG play rugby and go to dinner, where in true Rugby fashion, I will drink 40 ounces of beer.

Finally,

where is Fe Lady? Her blog disappeared! A little help here?

When baby steps make you feel 10 feet tall

It's like learning to ride a bike....

Weeks of apprehension. Will I be able to bike again?
A morning of anxiety. I sincerely doubt my clients walked upright and pain free Tuesday as I put them through the workout I generally would do at this point, if not for them.
I shook as I prepped. If my knee fails, just how bad will it hurt.
I stood on the driveway for 5 minutes, maybe longer. Our driveway turns out onto a subtle, but climbable hill, and I'm not keen on zero mph crashes.
I rolled my bike to the top of the hill, knowing eventually I was going to have to suck it up and just do this. Maybe I should go back and switch out my cleats and pedals, I'm not so sure it's a good idea to do this maiden voyage on the new ones. Excuses. Just go.

And I went. Slowly at first, clipping out numerous times and stopping just to be sure I could do so in the oft time necessary instant.

And a funny thing happened on the way to mile 2. I remembered. All the miles, all the rides, all the times clipping in and out. And once you remember you know what happens, you soar. Rolling along I watched the final remains of winter breaking up in tiny chunks along the shore of Cedar Lake and I marveled at all of the stored potential of spring. So caught up in the moment was I that I missed the fact that I was standing in my pedals, until I sat back down. 6 weeks ago I couldn't stand.

18 miles of rolling pavement. In the grand scheme of things, baby steps, I know. But sometimes it's the baby steps that make you feel 10 feet tall.

Trimama is back!

In other news, I scoped a new client today-in the event all of Monday's folks quit on me. Nice gal, we got to talking tri's. Turns out she has a co worker who lives in Oregon who does tri s and as it happens also blogs. He had suggested she go to My Local Bike shop to check out a new road bike. Of course, I heard blog and my ears perked up. Who was this blogging Oregonian? and how did he know about My Local Bike shop? I questioned this potential client and tri training buddy.

Well he knows this guy named Taconite Boy who is all about Triathlon.

I busted out laughing.

Do I tell the big guy he is almost famous?

The pillow is calling, cheers to you all

Maybe worm poo is the answer to all things

It sure isn't spittle. Which brings us to,

The Question of the Week

You are at work, when you notice a person having difficulty working the new, "technically sophisticated" storage lockers. Being the fab, phenom employee that you are, you go to the assist; because life is more then wiping sweat and dust off of treadmills.

"Yes, mam, you have to close the locker before you lock it. That's it." Conversation ensues. But conversation doesn't matter as the only salient point is that spittle is flying. Everywhere. Um hm, I trained you. Yes, you should follow up with me.......eeeeee."

Spittle on the cheek? Ok. Spittle on the chin? Well a little precarious, but we are still ok. But then that flagrant, foul drop hits a perfect trajectory...and lands on your lip.

You:

A) Run screaming to the eye wash fountain in the janitor closet, only to be retarded mid stride by the recollection that the eyewash is merely that- water to wash the eyes. And this isn't your eye, this is your lip, which guards the orafice by which all things travel to and from your body. You opt for chugging bleach instead.

B) Grow up Trimama, you exchange bodily fluids with Tac Boy all the time.

C) But this isn't Tac Boy, where's the bleach?

D) Did you know that, like, 70% of dust we inhale and exhale every day is really skin cells that have sloughed off of other people?

E) I'm going permanent SARS mask from this point forward

F) How can this be coming from a woman who has wiped butts and noses for more then a decade?

G) Go ahead, fill in the blank


I saw in a documentary that worm poo is really great for growing marijuana....and other things. I'm not sure what "other" things are, but the guy from Princeton who invented worm poo is making a lot of money turning other folks garbage into fertilizer. Not a bad gig if you can get it.

Enough about poo, for I have sinned. Perhaps not mortal, but certainly grievous. What? Did I miss the latest download of The Tac Boy and Bigun show? No, worse. Leaving the feverish Tac (who happens to be an Ironman) at home, I bundled up (bundling because it is still so cold here that I switched my iphone weather gauge to celcius; somehow 1 degree here isn't quite so awful when it is only 28 in Tempe- so long as we are all freezing I'm good) The Tribe and departed for the local burger joint. For no odd reason, I donned my Ironman Finisher fleece. Now, in the Tac Boy/Trimama life of yin and yang, I am the IM recluse to Tac Boy's Schwag Whore. My tattoo remains hidden, and my schwag wear is limited, apparently to blustery days out with The Tribe. I sit my "single mom" arse down at the burger joint and proceed to dine with The Tribe. At some point in the evening, I catch a glimpse of the bright red "M" across the room. Just a simple white shirt, on a handsome, athlete, age grouper of a guy. Now we are easily within each other's eye shot. He could no more miss my "M" as I could miss his. And I knew, at some point it would happen. Our eyes would meet, a slight nod, and in typical Minnesota fashion, the subtle wave. We just acknowledge people in our clans up here. And we were in each other's 140.6 miles clan. You know it's coming. It's a sixth sense understanding. I glanced up, our eyes brushed in contact.....and I balked! I looked away! I denied this fellow athlete his due. At that one moment, feeling much more conscious of mama then Trimama, I felt sub iron. I felt that to put myself in this guys league was to defame the name and spirit of the athlete. I really need to get out more. Perhaps I really need to get out on my bike more. So, white shirt Ironman Guy at local burger joint, I'm sorry, really, truly sorry. Wave, wave. (was that second wave overkill?)

Ok, so I stopped by my local bike shop to pick up new cleats and shades. It's 65 wonderful degrees tomorrow and other then the fact that it is bloody tax day, I have no excuse for not getting my skittish, ridiculous self out on a bike tomorrow. Wish me luck, and if you encounter me on the trail, well, don't worry if I don't wave, I'll be white knuckling this maiden voyage of the new knee until it's done. I'm such a wuss.

I'm perplexed by the pickle thing...

As it lingers. But on to other things. 8 inches of snow are currently melting in torrents down the street. Question, what do you get when you take two really stressed out men, give them a microphone and a recording program? The Tac Boy and Bigun Show! All I know is that I got two stress calls from Tac at work, he passed on dinner, opting for a glass of wine and the next thing I knew he was down in the lower wing of the Tribe castle (read basement) laughing his backside off. Is that a good sign? You be the judge. I think the episode is due to release next Tuesday.

We spent the weekend up on Lake Gitcheegumee. Just saying the word makes me relax. I think every state should have a city like Duluth, where just by leaving your own air space and traveling there makes you feel relaxed. "We are far too easily amused" I mentioned to Tac, after realizing we had spent 15 or so minutes trying to drop rocks through the thin layer of ice on the canal. Flip the rock and it skittered along the surface, give it a good, crushing chuck, and it plunked through the ice and spiraled to the bottom. Clear, ice cold water. Into which we chucked several dozen rocks. Either exclaiming or sighing after each one. We are far too easily amused. I'm not bothered at all by that, HG, in "almost" 15 year old apathy has a different disposition. Ok, some new stores were our collective destination, so she didn't appreciate the detour quite as much. Not until we reached the stores and she realized the value of her younger siblings having exhausted their squirrely nature along the beach shore. Sometimes, but not very often, moms are wise.

We hiked around a state park on Saturday. The beavers were hard at work aaah potential.

Gotta run, Tac is waiting for some post run refreshment at the local pub. That must be Wildflower training

I'm craving pickles right now

and I have no idea why. I don't even like pickles. I like the marinated cucumbers that they put on a sandwich at Subway. But I don't like Subway, so I have no intention of meeting that craving with a bad sandwich. Sorry Jared.

I booked our hotel room for Ironman Arizona yesterday. That's fairly optimistic considering how between my knee, the wretched flu and the kids on Spring Break, my training has been shot to heck. I plan to do the Trail Mix 25k in 3 weeks and a 62 mile bike ride in 4. I think.

I wonder if some mental deficiency is contributing to the pickle problem. That might explain why I think I can run 15 miles on trails when I can barely run 8 on a flat, paved trail.

American Idol is way too much fun this year. I would buy Brooke White's album tomorrow.

I arrived at work Monday with a commendation letter on my desk and posted throughout the Y. Two weeks ago I helped to save a life. One of our older members went into to cardiac arrest, and I was one of two first responders. In first response, training is everything and I am incredibly grateful for mine being current and for giving me the confidence to know what to do and how to keep a cool head. If you don't know how to perform CPR go get certified. It's cheap, it's easy and it might make the difference between life and death for someone, someday.

The Tribe is on Spring break this week, but it hardly feels like spring at a whopping 34 degrees. I've heard promise of 60 next week, we'll see. They are having a great week, sleeping in, staying up late, etc.

Gotta run and meet up with Tac for a business meeting.

Happy Spring

Lana has a wonderful post today, to which I hesitate to add, except for that I had the best worst run of my recent career today. Near 50 degrees, snow melting in waterfalls down the gutters and street, birds singing, and caterpillars! Little black, fuzzy caterpillars. Now the run was poor at best, my leg was sore from my long run this weekend, and I knew I should have gone for a swim, but how can you not run when spring is out your door. I still have crud in my lungs, which didn't effect Saturdays run, but it seemed to give me shallow breathing- what's the saying? A bad day running is always better then a good day at the office, I'll take the run. Tomorrow I will go swim and bike, it's supposed to snow. We are hosting Easter this year, so the weekend training gets amended a little. Tac and Bigun are working on another podcast-it should be available soon.

That's my quick update...now off to see what is happening in your corners of the universe

And I thought I was sick of snow

My poor friends in Canada must really be feeling it, if if comes to this

Our snow is melting fast and dirty, and it feels wonderful to have radiant sun! Outdoor season is closing fast, yea! Tac and I went out for a quick reconnect dinner last night, followed by a drive around the local lakes, past boob beach, and other noted landmarks. You can almost hear the ice beginning to melt. In the meantime, Tac continues to train for Wildflower and CDA, and I don't feel much like a triathlete at all. I was telling Tac, I want my 2006 legs back. Maybe I need to have a baby :-) I was telling Tac last night, I still feel every step I take-I have to think of the biomechanics every time I walk because my leg still feels like "other". Then the flu hits and I'm still recovering. Today will be my first workout in over a week. I need to get my mojo back. I miss the honeymoon years of triathlon where everything is an adventure and nothing really hurts. But, you have to train what you've got, so I plan to spin for an hour before work today, and we'll take it from there- November is a long way off-thank goodness!

Someone shut the door, we aren't heating the neighborhood!

Tuesday
Lo: 18°Snow
Wednesday
Hi: 25°Lo: 6°Snow
Thursday
Hi: 15°Lo: 1°Partly Cloudy
Friday
Hi: 16°Lo: 1°Mostly Sunny
Saturday
Hi: 20°Lo: 13°Partly Cloudy
Sunday
Hi: 35°Lo: 20°Partly Cloudy
Monday
Hi: 38°Lo: 20°Partly Cloudy

My brothers and sisters in the south need to stop rolling over and hogging all the blankets-it's cold up here. I mean, do you really need 80 degrees the first week of March? What are you doing in bed anyhow, shouldn't you be out training? The Tac and The .Bigun have knocked another podcast in the can, I take no responsibility whatsoever.

HG wants to know, if theoretically she likes Boy and theoretically if Boy likes her can they be dating. I told her to theoretically ask me again when she is 16. Tac and I see no reason to awaken love before it's time. Beyond that, I think a lot of poor decisions are made in the midst of break up angst. I don't think the majority of today's 14 year olds are adequate in consequential thinking and see no reason for her to be "dating" right now. Beyond all of this, she and Boy are good friends, and I think that friendship is better preserved by not adding teen romance to the mix. Case in point, Boy has "dated" and broken up with numerous girls in the past year, none of which currently speak to him. Old fashioned, I know. But modern thinking has produced a lot of divorces, teen pregnancies and catastrophic STD's. If we are wrong, we've just delayed her dating by a few months, but if we are right, well, there is no "I told you so".

I came home from work Monday with 3 inches of water in the basement. Fortunately it was a main drain and not the "main". Huh? 45 minutes of noise, 24 hours of stink and she's running clear. Now, hopefully the flood dries out without ruining the Pergo.

Tuesday morning dawned with Y laid out with a sore throat and fever- so off to the Urgent Care. I think it's strep. The doc says strep is a minor possibility. I say its' strep. Doc returns with prescription. So, 48 hours of mandated home care and the Y is good as new with the exception of thick, throaty healing voice.

Wednesday dawn very early with a fresh blanket of snow. Open at the Y 5am. Train, train train. Yea! By 9 my throat is feeling thick and my ears are burning. Fast forward, this evening. Yep, I'm sick with something. Blah. HG makes dinner, while I oversee from the bedroom as Tac is spinning away in the basement. Want to know what is going on with your kids, pay attention when they are playing "Truth, dare, double dare, promise or repeat" I have no clue what "Promise, or Repeat" means but it has something to do with vague promises of marrying movie stars so long as they fit X and Y criteria. Oh, boy. It's good to pay attention because eventually the dares go to toilet water and dog food. That's when I intervened. The last thing I need is toilet water induced stomach flu.

So, it's a crazy week, with record breaking cold on the way. Any warm, healing wishes would be welcome up here, time to give some of those blankets back!

Monday, Monday

I picked The Tribe up at school last week intent on making the most of single digit high temps and blowing off some steam at the Y. I was immediately informed that the Y was not on the to do list as there was a lunar eclipse to observe. Since a lunar eclipse necessarily involves a moon, I suggested we had a few hours to burn, literally, until the eclipse would begin. Soap joined me on the trainers and we plugged away, only to be completely delighted by the rising of the full moon with the setting of the sun. Lovely. We monitored the progress of the moon, intent on arriving home long before the eclipse began, anticipation rising with the great ruler of the night sky. Dinner was a hasty mess, homework was an afterthought as they took turns watching and reporting.

Along about half past bed time, and the moon in partial eclipse, I informed them that it was time to head to bed. Aaarrgggg. No argument, up to bed. There is a stairwell that rises up from our living room, and at the top of the stair well is an east facing window. There was a day when a certain members of the tribe would lie at the top of the stairwell, silently watching mom and dad's movie, until an exclamation gave her away and she was sent permamently to bed. Little wonder that at 9:32 CST I heard a great cheer and hurrah from the top of the stairs.

We've seen our first Lunar Eclipse! Yes! Then the scamper of 8 feet. A good night's sleep is a reasonable sacrifice for awe and scientific discovery. There must be a profound statement in there to the effect that sleepers sleep while dreamers soar. Soapinator was dismayed at missing her front row seat to the Apocalypse that she was secretly hoping the eclipse would commence, until I informed her that catastrophic destruction might dampen her plans to attend horse camp this summer.

Dreams of triathlon primarily interrupt our sleep presently. Early morning training sessions. Sunday naps cut short to run or swim. But with the coming advent of spring, a Sunday afternoon run in the sunshine is equally as refreshing as a winter's nap, and plodding patiently towards a goal is worth the throwing off of blankets in the crush of morning cold.

I need a theme song. "Let's get it on" carried me through my last monumental season. Last season was more "It's my party and I'll cry if I want to". I compiling a soundtrack. Lucky me, my A race is in the heart of the southwest and cowboys and country western. If I didn't lose you on that last sentence, and you have song ideas, let me know.

"Things That Never Cross a Man's Mind" by Kellie Pickle of American Idol fame is one of my current favorites.

a sampling
I need to go shopping
These shoes are all wrong
Just look in my closet
Not a thing to put on
I wonder how these jeans make me look from behind
Things that never cross a man's mind

Lets turn off the TV
Now can't we just talk
Lets lay here and cuddle
Till we both drift off
If we don't make love
That'll be just fine
Things that never cross a man's mind

That joke is too dirty
This steak is too thick
Ain't no way in the world I'll ever finish it
That car is too fast
This beer is too cold
And watching all this football is sure getting old
Wish I was working this weekend
Not on the lake wetting my line
Things that never cross a man's mind

Her lips are too red
Her skirt is too tight
Her legs are too long
And her heels are too high
Boy, she looks like the marrying kind
Things that never cross a man's mind

Feel free to add your own.

If you haven't voted for EVO Tri, go do it- just for fun.

More importantly, go vote for Lana to get out of the Tomb of Shame and vote Tridummy's backside in (scroll down to "perfume slick".) although I gotta say, it made me laugh.

It's wine and Tac time

it's as political as I'll get

Vote for Commodore!!!!!!!!

A vote for Comm is a vote for the Common Man!

Mom, make me look like a Rock Star!

Buy a nine year old a guitar for christmas, have his dad teach him a couple cords, and suddenly he wants to be a Rock Star! Egged on by his oldest sister, Y (formerly the Urp) decided his normal bowl cut no longer sufficed, he needed to look like a rock star, a la The Jonas Brothers. For the record, the only barber the boys have known is Salon de Trimama. Hair cutting is not rocket science, most of the time. And when it is, there is always the saving redemption of the buzzy. When Y was three-ish, the buzzy vibrated wildly against his head, sending him into fits of laughter and giggles. It might take an entire morning to even him out, but in the end, high and tight and entirely rub able. He used to charge a quarter. He's outgrown quarters and now it's on to rock star. Fortunately his hair grows naturally forward, so the whole long hair, shaggy thing isn't so difficult. His problem is that he doesn't like his hair in his eyes, so we'll see how it goes.

New rule in the Trimama household. If you want to use your mouth to cut someone, you stop the bleeding. In other words, you say something mean to someone, you now say something kind. Creativity knows no bounds, and has fallen just short of "if I was a fly you'd be the first poop I'd swarm." I was hoping for, "I like your smile". There is always the throwback, "you're nice". I want genuine, so we are working on it. I'm of the belief that home should be the place where you sit by the fire and cut the chill, find good conversation and friendship and on most nights a warm meal. But even on cold cereal nights, I want my family to be able to find home an escape from the harsh reality of the world. I certainly don't want home to be the fridge you pass by on the way to your "own" room. I don't think you should ever feel alone in your own family.

"Look what I can do! I'm a genius. It's a skill that took years to perfect. Actually it only too 10 minutes but it's still cool." At times it's good to listen to your kids, really listen, and at times it's good to just let the 90 mile per hour prattle roll off your ears. That's why I've installed state of the art filtering hardware in my brain. The state department has nothing on me with it's ability to filter out "dirty bomb" and "safe house". My hardware discerns inflection and cadence. Not quite on the level of national security, but to me it's essential to know when to nod and uh hmm, and when to interject. It's a working science that I suspect will take years to perfect.

I suspect school will be sullen and grouchy today, the side effects of 7 below and indoor recess, and the cataclysmic sugar crash hangover from Valentine's day. I think we are going to lick salt cubes for dinner. HG has an organizational meeting for Rugby tonight. Rugby is football without pads. I value my baby's brain cells. We'll see. We are working on ways to make her 2000 plus kid very large high school, smaller. Sub groups of friends is the best tactic I know.

Someone bowed down to me and asked to touch my Ironman swim cap at the pool yesterday. I see a future training client. God has blessed me richly, I'm the second highest sales person in our branch this month, next only to my boss. Not bad for a semi part time stay at home mom. Let's just keep getting healthy people!

Tonight I get to make my weekly rounds of the blogosphere- I love Fridays. Glass of wine, virtually connecting with friends. That's a pretty good happy hour. See you at the bar.

Iron Widowed...once again

Someone has been stealing my razors, leaving me to find long, black, comeover like hairs on the back of my knees caps. While a little drag is nice, if it's hairy, it's scary, so I stopped by Target on the way to the Y for my recent 3000 yd swim. (did I mention it's good to be training again?) There is nothing like the clean shave of a new razor, and to verify I hoisted my leg up on the kitchen counter for Tac to inspect. "Look how smooth my legs are?" I say, flirtatiously. Tac runs his hand up my leg with a dreamy look on his face and it's on. Almost. "I really need to shave too." and he wanders off.

I'm an Iron Widow once again...sigh.

But I am glad I shaved. Boy am I glad I shaved. Because we went to a local technical college at the behest of a friend who instructs up and coming massage therapists as they needed bodies. Cosmotology school, I presumed women. Then Michael walked in. Not Michelle, Mike-al. Cute, adorable Michael. Tac and I have been together for 20 years and in all those years I've never encountered more then a casual hug from fellow guy friends. So, awkward. But, I could just about be Michael's mom, and he was very professional and gave a darn good massage. Left me thinking I really need to get on the foam roller a lot more often.

Massage is essential in a northern climes during winter; we tend to forget what human touch feels like for all the layers. Which possibly explains why, when I sit on the big comfy chair, legs draped over the side, I quickly have a bundle of legs and arms joining me as each of The Tribe squeezes in to "their" spot. Four of us still fit on the big, comfy chair. Glancing across the room I see the eye rolls of Tac and HG, tapping wildly on their lap tops, discussing the latest in music and culture-they don't like the pterodactyl screams coming from the mass of body parts on the comfy chairs but they accept it as a part of the normal ebb and flo of our household. If it wasn't their, they'd miss it.

I enrolled HG in our local high school today. Hmmm. My baby's going to high school. I drove the long way home and picked up a bottle of wine. Actually two. Red Bicycle and Red Truck. They were out of Red Guitar. But now I need to get my red eyes to bed so I can get up and make some green cash tomorrow.

It's a spin-lift day with a nice run on Friday. Happy hump day