Buzzy cuts, Blue patches and Hairy Pits

"What's wrong with hairy pits?" queried SLJ. Nothing, as far as me and my junior high girl friends were concerned. Harry was the gorgeous high school boy that lived across the street, and who would send myself and my girlfriends giggling and screaming out of sight each time he was in his driveway. Harry wasn't always a Pitts. His biological father, Mr. S, left early on though, and his benevolent, adoptive father, Mr. Pitts, fated him to his eternal infamy. While no one in this household would admit to it, we have our own version of Harry living across the street.

School ended last Thursday, and with that the 88 days of summer commence. All of my training hours are logged early, and the focus of blogging shifts ever more so to the antics of The Tribe. There is no better sign of summer than the buzzy cut rite of passage. I have no idea how the boys accumulate that many layers of sediment on their skulls each day, but I do know the best way to keep them clean is to shave them close. A quick scrub with the wash cloth at night and they go to bed clean and dry-headed in their air conditioned rooms. Plus, you can't beat the feeling of rubbing that scrubbly head. Standing Long Jump charges a quarter per rub. Despite the look on his face, SLJ was esctatic for the end of school, but HG had bloodied his nose by accident (?) right before the pictures. She was apologetic, so I'll take her word for it.

With the final day of school comes the awarding of the coveted Blue Patch. It took a grueling run on the track and a hyper extended hamstring flexibility stretch, but Soapinator won her blue patch. (which she proceeded to lose and find again on the play ground in the melee of screams and jubilation of "School's Out!- high drama, that)

The pool passes are purchased, the days are long and the nights are warm, the air is scented and the end of the day beer is cold. Sleep is peaceful and life is good. We ride with the local tri club tonight, and will no doubt further cement the plans for Zurich over beer and appetizers.

I did a ladder, speed workout on the track yesterday morning and was painfully reminded that I did a half iron Saturday when I awoke this morning. A little more recovery time, please.

Have a good one

Fresh (almost) From the Forge

First the report, then the contemplation. (See how nice I am, I won't make you wade through my brain to get to the point :)

This was a tough and dedicated field of 35 female racers with the top 14 spots finishing between 4: freakin 35 and 5:30. From the conversation in transition I knew I was among seasoned veterans, mostly Ironmen, Kona competitors and the like. It's early in the season and only serious athletes need apply. Listen and learn Trimama, listen and learn. There were a few newbies like myself, laughing when in my nervousness I put my wetsuit on backward, and the veterans were instructive and calming in a way only triatletes can be.

I was 27th out of 35 women, 116 out of 136th overall and 7th out of 9 age group.

Ballet Toes and Bananas:

Thanks to a tip from Fe Lady and stocking up on potassium I escaped the swim without cramping, learned to draft and most importantly swam in a straight line. I've also decided that I'm not going to spot my fellow age groupers time in the front end by entering the water with such hesitation. I won't be swimming over anyone anytime soon, but I'm also not going to give up those few minutes getting into the water and starting the stroke. My one goal for the swim was to stay straight and on course. I did. Even though it took plenty of extra sighting. I realized I have the ugliest stroke in the lake when Trihubby was able to distinguish me from the other pink caps by my spastic left arm. Can anyone say stroke clinic? I stripped my wetsuit in the lake and went to transition, which added to my swim time as the timing mat was at the entrance to T1.

38:11 But I'm guessing the actual swim was more like 34 and change-it would help me a lot if I didn't reel like a drunken sailor trying to get out of my wet suit :) and if time mattered I might have run up the ramp-but time wasn't on my mind today.

It was a cold 58 degrees and windy, so T1 included long sleeve shirt, padded shorts (which are just nasty to put on over wet skin) socks, shoes, gloves, nutrition, helmet etc) 3:40 My race plan called for a slow transition to ensure I biked out with everything in place

Bike 25th out of 35 in 3:26:22. I covered 18.7 in 59 minutes. Want to guess what happened at mile 27?

flubflubflubflub. I've never flatted so I didn't know what to make of that sound emanating from my back tire. But then I started to feel every pebble in the road. I travelled another mile flub, flub flubbing at 14 mph as the air left my tire, but I was looking for a SAG truck, of which there were none-anywhere-the entire day.

I rode to a main intersection and spotted an official looking guy and pulled up asking for help changing my tire. He had a whole bag of stuff and his companions proceeded to help-with the caution that I would get a 4 minute penalty for outside assistance. Let's see, taking a half hour to change a tire, or taking 15 minutes with help in a race I just want to finish upright. I'll take the help. So, I'm giving myself credit for a 3:11 bike in terms of actual exertion (AE) which is pushing the 17.8 mph average that cyclometer was reading. Given the wind (again) and hills I'll take it. I've also learned the invaluable lesson of knowing the course. There were a couple rough hills on the double loop course, including dead, decomposing skunk hill that stunk literally and well, literally. My other biking goal was to never allow my speed to drop below 11 mph-mission accomplished-except for the flat. Those hills dropped me to 8 or 9 mph six weeks back.

T2 4:16 What the heck. It must have been the time I took eating Nutter Butters in transition. I thought I was faster. I stripped out of my padded shorts, biking shirt and added my running shirt. Oh, Oh, Oh, I called Trihubby to let him know I'd flatted and was heading out on the run.

Double -double- this- this, double- double- that. Double- double- this- this double- double that.

The Tribe has some new hand game they play whereby this mantra is repeated as they go through hand motions. That damn cadence repeated a million times as my feet flopped along the pavement on the run. My goal for the run was to keep my pace between 9-9:30 minutes walking the water stops for a 10:00 min/mi overall pace to finish in 2:10. I also wanted to keep my heart rate around 150, and determined to walk any hills that pushed it to the 165 or so level.


Run time 2:14:05 with the best part of the day awaiting at the finish line. The Tribe was there and came running towards me, so we did a Florida practice down the shoot.

I felt good and strong at the end. I had more in me, which is exactly where I wanted my training to be. I didn't want a demoralizing, awful finish, with Ironman on the horizon. No second guessing-I'm ready to move forward to the next level of training.

Official time 6:26 ATM 6:11. I thought breaking the 6 hour mark would be cool, but I knew with the wind that wasn't going to happen, a solid 70.3 in the bank.



So now on to the contemplation-it might be worth a cup of tea, this post has been simmering for a couple of weeks. (to be honest, I don't expect too many of you to read this-having exhausted your attention on the race report. Yes, that is intentional as this part is more for my benefit than yours.

The funny thing about being a relative "newbie" to a sport like triathlon is that no matter how much you experience, how much you read, there is always something new waiting for you-in training, in racing, in life. I mentioned in an earlier post that I had this epiphany moment a few weeks back whereby I realized I am no longer afraid. I can't pinpoint exactly what I might have been afraid of before, it was more a subtle current that ran through the core of who I was. I didn't even know it was there because it didn't seem to impact my life in any overt way. It just occured to me that the fear was gone, and I felt different. More genuinely confident, more "me" in the way that God would want "me" to be. A person is a slave to anything that would have mastery over them, and perhaps there is little irony that I would find my freedom on the path to Liberty 70.3.

We are given the gift of mentors, friends, and parents to shepard our souls through this life. Abusers don't shepard souls, they own them, they enslave them. They strip you of security and confidence while convincing you that only they can replace what you have lost, all the while neglecting the obvious point that they raped those virtues away in the first place. Somewhere on the path to Liberty I reclaimed what was mine. Reclaimed in the truest sense of the word. This was not "borrowed" athletic swagger that elevated the value of performance and competition in pursuit of accolades meant to feed an insatiable ego, who then bastardized those achievements to bolster his own sense of rightness and self esteem, only to leave me bankrupt when the next round of violence erupted. Every athletic dream I pursued was done with the sole purpose of raising my currency in a system that had no logical rate of exchange. Eventually I figured that out and I quit competing; I left the system. But the system did not leave me. It lay dormant for ten years. Because I had spent those interim years solidifying the ground beneath my feet, when I entered the world of triathlon I was able to apply a more matured personality to the training and races and have a great time. But there was always that subtle, "make him proud or else" This in spite of knowing that there was precious little pride and much unspeakable "or else" driving that current. A current that almost swept me away at Twin Cities Marathon last fall with fear and flashbacks, in part because I received an "or else" phone call two days before the run. I had neither the talent nor training to excel at a marathon, and fear of failure almost consummed me, but for two things, The Tribe, and Florida. My integrity on the line with The Tribe if I quit what I started and this quirky idea that a marathon was the doorway to Florida compelled me past the "or else" fears to the finish line from which I spent six months feeling a failure with my "slow" time. Understand? Abuse twists and torments long after the abuser is removed. Fast forward a few months to when I began my training in earnest for Liberty. It was winter and all pool and bike trainer all the time. I did change my routine and stick to running outdoors through the winter which was a small step in and of itself. No surprise, I liked the controlled enviroment of the treadmill. I should emphasize here that I'm not a controlling person in the sense of annoying everyone around me, I work to control one thing, my mental and emotional stability. House rules forbid tipping your hand, and house of violence rules dictate severe retribution for the kid who let's on to the family secrets; control is survival. And to be honest, counseling your way through some of this stuff compells you to believe you're going to "drop your basket" so to speak, so control is sanity. I had no means to assess my ability to take on mental challenges, so intially I proceeded with caution, seeking to avoid tipping the scales. Now I realize I was no where close to tipping, but when you don't know, you don't know.

Experience and positive reinforcement bring confidence, control is no longer necessary.

So unnerved was I by the thought of biking outdoors, I seriously contemplated my entire training on the bike path that travels within a six mile radius of my house, since I could always walk home if something went wrong. That path held one virtue, it is flat and it is boring as hell; a four hour ride on that loop would drive me insane. So, on my first long ride I set out and rode 62 miles, away from home, alone, plotting my own course, taking responsibility for my needs and my pain management. Having control of pain management is monumental, I believe it achieved the single greatest blow to that core fear. I quickly learned that pain is manageable and mental fatigue is easily defeated by a shot of Gatorade. If only all of life's woe's were similarly tackled. I was simultaneously racking up the yardage in the swimming pool, so when it came to swimming in the lake, "I survived so I can survive another swim" gave way to "I can do a mile, a mile is nothing, I will swim this". Aahh, confidence. I almost quit the sport last year when the cold water and newbie reaction to the constriction of a wet suit threatened to cement me in permanant swimming phobia at the Buffalo tri. That was only 400 yards. I spent last season refusing to warm up for the swim in fear that I only had 600 yards in me at the most and any warm up would cause me to drown.

Confidence vs control- no contest.

Finishing Buffalo Olympic this year put an exclamation point on "I am no longer afraid".

When I bike now, I let go on the downhills, I fly. It goes without saying, when you learn to fly on your bike, you soar. When you don't worry about flats and crashes and speed and what if's, you soar. You bike and you experience. You take in life and nature and the majesty of your Creator, rather than obsess over balance and possible threats. Fear breaks down when threat isn't crouching at every corner. Just ride. And suddenly, 70 miles away from home is nothing. 56 miles is half iron, baby.

I had moments yesterday when "make him proud or else" hovered on my shoulder to which my response was "get over yourself" Then I began to think about all of the people in my life, The Tribe, friends, family, bloggers and I said a little prayer for each person I thought of, and I drank some Gatorade and I soared.

Well until my tire went flat :)

But there was help when I needed it.

Confidence vs Control

One makes life oh so much sweeter, oh and it comes with it's own token of appreciation.

If you hung in this long, thanks for stopping by, and thanks for how you've inspired me to soar.

70.3 Baby!

The short version:

Whooohooohoooohoo!!!!!!!!!!!!

Half Iron Baby!!!!!

Unofficial time 6:15 Waiting official results

Friends are coming over to celebrate the start of summer (it's 58 degrees and overcast-you call that summer?) So, campfire, steaks on the grill and a little friend I like to call Patron, Reposado. I'm taking a view days off from Ironman training camp-I think I've earned it.

Trimama takes on the Half Ironman!

Getting out of the water.


Looking strong on the Bike!


Ok....This ones just for me....I do love triathlon training ;)
Tridaddy


Link

Fighting the nerves

I'm in full on taper mode now, and that is simply too much time to think. I'm nervous as heck, with 2 days to go. I made the mistake, maybe, of looking at the registered partipants. There are only nine women in my age group doing this half and of the 180 racers only perhaps 40 are chicks. What's up women? Do we want the guys to have all the fun?

Speaking of fun, is there alot more to be found in the sporting life than crossing the finish line?
Trihubby bikiing strong
Cooling off in the lake.


I have a whole blog about a recent realization I've had about fear and no longer being afraid-but I think it means to wait until after this race is complete.

So, on another note, Trihubby just called, he's out pub-ing with the Local tri club after the weekly ride and apparently we're doing Ironman Zurich next July. Sounds like fun, but then so do braces. I don't mean to burst his beer happy bubble, but you don't walk into the ortho for under 3 bills, times four, so it's either teeth like the Brits and flying first class, or nice shiny teeth. Perhaps a blogland vote is in order :)

Just one 20 minute run left, then race day.

Bike Envy

Tattoo my butt and call me a triathlete!

Ok, I still have no tattoos, but I had way too much fun yesterday! And, might I add, I am an Olympian!!!!!!

For you seasoned triathletes, that might not mean as much, but trust me, for Trimama, it's stellar.

This is the course that almost squashed my tri career last year- the swim, the hills on the bike, I was toasted by the sprint course. This year I was prepared. I was freakin half iron prepared-which was good because this was my prep race for Saturday.

Here's the stats:

186 out of 228 overall- Chris Leigh was first overall by about 9 minutes
46 out of 64 women-Badmann only beat me by 54 minutes :)
10 out of 19 in women 30-39
31:48 swim- I absolutely cannot swim in a straight line-so let's just say this was my 1.3 mile time .9 mile swim. The lake was choppy, and I think pulling my face over the wave when I breathed perpetually sent me towards the right. Oh, and then my left leg cramped, so I pointed my foot down and dragged it for 75 yards, swam another 30 and my right leg charlie horsed. That hurt like the onset of labor. I basically dragged my body side ways for 150 yards towards the finish, trying to regain mobility in my frozen leg. That sucked. Surprisingly, I stayed very calm though.

I pulled my wet suit off in the water-works like a charm when you are about ankle deep-much faster than struggling with it on shore.

T1 2:57 I deliberately putzed here, making sure I implemented my nutrition plan-worked like a charm. I also ran with my shoes on my aero bars through the longer transition area and waited to put them on until just outside the mat. Made for a faster commute.

7th out of 19 on bike (yes I broke the top 10!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!) calming now.

1:23:04 for an average 17.9 over 24.8 miles. That’s almost 18mph on the hilliest course I have ever ridden, with 30 mph gusts of wind that really wanted to dump you off your bike.

T2 2:36 Trying to switch out your laces pre race and then forgetting to loosen them and slide them on and off so when you get to transition you have monkey with the laces uuuggg is not a good idea. Talking with a race partners wife for a bit-makes it worth the fun of being there.

11th out of 19 on run-I ran my half marathon half iron pace deliberately-walked and talked the water stops and chugged up and down the hills. Waited for Trihubby when we met at my mile 3.5 and his mile 4.5-kissed. Aaaaahhhhhhh. Race directors have bizarre humor, this course has about a mile incline up, up, up, to a cemetery, where you loop through and head back down toward the finish. Mildly amusing. Chatted with a dad most of the run which helped it go by faster. Caught race partner with a half mile to go, he was hurting with a bad hammy.

High five, and whooped with every spectator over the last eigth mile, leaped five feet in the air through the finish line. My finish is becoming the stuff of folk lore now ☺
Hugged Trihubby at the finish line.

I kept to my goals to run a clean, practice race. Nutrition worked well, and I feel like the kinks are ironed out as much as they can be.

It’s on to Iron.


Badmann was one of the most genuine, gracious people I have ever met and has one of the badman-est bikes I have ever seen. Her nutrition is housed in the frame, there are no bullhorns, just aerobars and the wheel is some wicked composite thing. Pics to follow soon.

Badmann; just your everyday person?

I received this email about my upcoming race-I thought it was a pretty cool story.

"Hello all, Natascha Badmann is in town, and I got a chance to ride the Buffalo Tri course with her and her coach yesterday. Two words, "Different Planet", one word "Humility". I didn't really think I could stay with them, but wow. At one point I was doing 25MPH on the level, and they went by so fast, I wanted to get off and see if my bike was ok. She is a very fun person to talk to, and her coach Tony is something. He coaches 50 Athletes in Switzerland, and met her 14 years ago. She was overweight, and heard he had lost weight, so she talked to him. Her only exercise at that time was riding horses. He told her to eat Pasta at night, and she might have to exercise a little. It has seemed to have worked pretty well for her--6 out of last 8 Hawaii Ironman Championships."


Kewl Nitrox asked for a pic of Natasha's bike. I'll give it my best shot, but I certainly won't be seeing her on the course-unless I accidentally run her over as I'm heading to T2 and she is striding towards the finish line. Of course I can always useBolder's new machine and then things might work out ok-at least that way I could dispose myself of the idea swapping Natasha's bike for the mountain bike I rode in this race last year. I was such a rookie.

I know, I know, puppy pics. I can't find the charger for my camera's battery-which makes it difficult to upload new shots. This might work to my advantage because what was a fluffy, adorable puppy will now be Chia Puppy. And it wasn't my fault. She was "helping" me seed the back yard Monday and I swear she knew exactly where the seed was going to fall and ran into the spray of seed. So, in spite of days of picking seed from her fur, Chia dog she will no doubt become.

The Tribe is wrapping up school which includes among other things, the testing for the Presidential Physical Fitness program. Hyphen Girl has won the top honor, blue patch for the past 3 years and has qualified for that level in every event except the mile run this year. She missed that day of class when we drove up to get Chia Pup, so we needed to do a make up run at the track. Earlier in the day I had picked up new running shoes for both HG and Soapinator, and a "running shirt" for Soap. Wonder of wonders, the Soap, who has one speed-sprint-and who has only actually completed the mile run in 2 of 5 attempts struck out on the track, intent on running the mile. Off she went, and I casually glanced at my watch. I assumed she would do her normal start/stop/walk/ go play, but she just continued running. She ran on her own, then she ran with HG on her warm up lap. And she ran on while HG stretched in preperation for her run. Next thing I know, she was running up to me, smiling.

"I did it!" "I ran a mile".

I glanced at my watch- a very unofficial 9:20. That is a qualifying time for the blue patch. I wrote her Phy ed teacher. I hope he counts it for her and gives her the patch. It would make her year! HG had the difficult challenge of running an 8:23 mile to qualify for blue, on an 85 degree, windy, humid afternoon. She clicked out the first lap in 1:55, cheer, cheer, keep going, lap 2 3:52, she was holding her pace-keep going! Only 2 laps to go! Lap 3, and frankly I was surprised, she was still holding a sub 8 pace with a 5:55. I could tell she was beginning to fade, so I crossed the infield to meet her at the second turn-kicking off my flip flops in mid stride . I ran the infield while she followed the inside lane of the track. She was starting to hyperventilate, and cry. There's no crying in track. (well actually there is a lot of crying in track) Time for drill sargent mom to kick in.

"You are two turns from finishing-you are not quitting right now! Keep going! Suck it up and keep moving! Just one more turn-less than 200 yards! Oh, you're mad at me now? Good! Now bring it home! 100 yards to go! That's it, go!

The final 300 yards she was crying and staggering every few steps (goodness how melodramatic tweeners can be). I knew she wanted blue, and I knew she could hit blue if she just kept pace and took it to the finish line. She sprinted the final 50 yards and crossed in 8:10. It took about 5 minutes of "I can't breathe" and "cry, cry" and pouring water down her neck for the endorphins to kick in. She earned her blue badge for a 4th straight year. A self congratulatory smile on her face, talking a million miles a minute, we drove home.

That's my girls.

Did my final 13 miles of biking followed by a 40 minute run in preparation for Sunday. Did I mention it is hot here? I'm clearly trained for distance rather than sprinting, but I'm ready.

Good luck to Keryn, racing her first tri this weekend! Stop by and wish her luck

Have a great, safe weekend!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I hope.

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

I think we're ready.

Let's get it on!

God bless those who've gone before, for us

Emancipation of the pebbles

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

Blank stares.

Crikets chirping.

Keep the d@*# pepples in the playground.

Ooooooohhhhhhhhhhhh.

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

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

SLJ did it to me.

Goodness it's going to be a long summer.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Have a great one!

Hey, your epidermis is showing

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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



Link

I admit it, I'm a doubting Thomas

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

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

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

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

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



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

My goodness, spring is busy

Happy Mother's Day!

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

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

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

Don't ask.

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

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

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

Have a good one

How's your training going?

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



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

So, out comes the X-acto knife.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Until then-have a sunny one.

Inspiring, Mr. Smith

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Laces out, Dan!

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

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

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

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

Onward then, and have a nice, safe weekend

Hey guys wait up!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Have a great one

Happy Birthday to me

"I get to eat your head!"

"Dad gets the booty!" eeewwwww!

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

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

I think we need help.

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

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.