Little o' this. little o' that

2011-12-27T16:34:00.001-05:00

Phew. I seem to go through blogs like some people go through cars (and like I used to go through men): shiny new... bored. Next!
I have come right back to where I started, which is actually where I'd like to be. I like my Tri-Girl audience and I like being able to let it all fly, not just write about boring old weight loss. So here I be, on this 2nd day after Christmas, wondering where to start and more importantly, where not to go at all.
I dropped the f-bomb right in front of my inlaws yesterday. It was a silly little bicker that turned into full blown stupid in about 12 seconds flat. So I said, "Maybe we should all just leave and then start this f-ing day over!" or something to that effect. I than announced I was, "tired of dealing with this retarded family" and left. But only for a short time and only to let Pat the Hooster out so she could eat some snow. I went back in because we had sausage.
But seriously. Say what you mean or shut the hell up.

Yes, all one table. And yes, wrapped with wrapping paper.

My mom hosted Christmas Eve for a paltry 22 this year. It seemed more relaxed than in years past and I'm not sure if that had to do with me not dreading the holidays for the first time ever or if it was really just more relaxed. Perhaps both. The whole night was really great. My daughter only had one major meltdown, the Chinese Auction went swimmingly and there was no blood. For us that's a good holiday.

Normally I have about a 5 day long pity party working up to New Year's because I haven't been invited to go anyplace, but at this stage in my life I just can;t give a shit. I sit up late with my kids and my husband playing wii and trying to keep my eyes open and I do just fine.

So what have I been doing for Christmas vacation?

Well, wearing one of these:

and standing atop a 16' wall holding the end of a 22' long piece of sheet metal until Ben can screw it into place. After all of the hard work, though, we only have 2 more sheets until the roof is done! It is an interesting feeling looking over the top of the wall, up the roof, while leaning back on a buckstrap and harness, hands-free for working. Oh, did I mention we're building a pole barn? Maybe I should start there. We're building a pole barn. It is ginormous and we've been doing it all ourselves, meaning Ben and me plus our families and friends. It's a lot of work but on the whole thing we only have 2 more sheets of 3x22' metal to do and the roof is done! My thighs are sore from climbing the ladder with the end of the metal on my head (20' ladder...) and then my shoulders with their torn rotator cuffs burn from over-head passing the metal up to Ben on the roof (also tied in). Now that we're nearly there we have a great system! So, if you ever need help with a pole barn... I'll plead insanity, deny ever writing this and tell you to hire someone.

I'm a big, bulky girl and I know most things involving strength are attainable for me. I am practicing asking for instruction rather than playing the girl card and saying I cannot do things. (Once the crew saw me moving the 70 pound mats we use for lawn preservation the cat was out of the bag.) So when I told Ben we needed more wood cut to length before I could split, I followed it with, "So if you could either cut some or show me how to", I was immediately assigned a pair of chainsaw chaps and a little husky. Watch me go. It's actually a little more fun than I plan on letting on.

So in a nutshell, I'm hangin in there. Life goes on and around no matter what I do, and I feel more confident in just letting it do so. There are still the strains of marriage, the trials of parenting, the sleepless nights of a business owner's wife. And here I am, truckin along.

Be well, be kind, and be you.

2011-04-17T10:11:00.000-04:00

I got an alert on my cell phone on Friday afternoon that some jackwagon had poached my debit card number and emptied my bank account. Not that there was much to take, but really. That was for my mortgage payment. And you spent it at Shoebacca in Irvine, TX? And on stationary? And lord knows what, probably cammo gear, at a sporting goods store?

I was asked to respond to the text alert and confirm the purchases, which I did not do, given the question involved. Why give away more information? So I called the local branch of the bank, Chase, and Jeff gave me a number to call to report the fraud. In the meantime I logged into my account online and saw where my card was being used.

In speaking with the person at the Chase Fraud Prevention Center, I confirmed all of me details and was told my card had been cancelled prior to the last purchase, the text alert was from them and that I would be sent a purchase dispute form. Thank you, Chase, for handling this so well. I was not put on hold. I did not speak to Peggy in Siberia or Tony in Bangalore. I spoke with Joe, likely in Omaha, and the whole process took less than 10 minutes.

I don’t feel violated or used or any of the feelings that would likely come with true identity theft, but I am pi$$ed. There are times I use amazon.com, Road Runner Sports or other on-line shops that carry items I cannot get locally. The only thing I’ve done recently is give in to my daughter and download freakin’ Zhu Zhu Pets from Bigfishgames.com. I’m not saying that is how this happened, as it is really my fault and not anyone else’s, but I have a pretty good idea that’s how I opened myself up to this hooey.

On another note, I’m feeling a lot like Mayhem from the Allstate ads, lying on the garage roof putting on weight through the winter. Pretty soon, with one more flake, I’m going to collapse. That can go a couple of ways: I’m tired OR I’ve slowly put on weight through the winter. I’m like an animal in that regard, bulking up for the cold season. The problem is that it’s coming on spring…

Speaking of spring, have you ever noticed boys seem to come crawling out of the woodwork when spring is in the air? Last week alone I got texts from 3 old flames. They must be on the same schedule as the furry creatures of the forest and think it’s mating season. In fact a few years ago, when I had a job in town, I was walking down the street in heels in April and an alarming number of men and boys waved, whistled, honked. Now I know this has nothing to do with me… it was the click, click, click of the heels identifying me as female. I find it humorous.

I have gone for a couple of outdoor runs recently, taking the mutts with me and blaring my new ipod. The difference between the treadmill and the great outdoors is stunning. I do like the consistency of the treadmill for exactly that: I know what to expect. Running outside on the neighbor’s wooded trails, though, provides a different view and set of obstacles every time. When my ipod is not blaring, the sounds are soothing. The sights, the smells, the variance in terrain are all pleasing to me. I like the hills. I like being able to change my route depending on what I feel like doing and how much of a challenge I want.

I was talking to my brother Josh the other day down at the Outfitter. I need new shoes and he was helping me figure out my pronation. After deciding I’m totally knock-kneed and flat footed, Josh was also talking to me about form and cadence. Now some of this I already knew and I think some really applies to running in the bare-foot 5 finger “shoes”, but did you know your cadence is supposed to be 180? Try it. If you take long strides you’ll probably find your cadence is about 90. I read up on shin splints after feeling like my shins were being driven into splinters by wedges and found that shorter strides decrease the likelihood and severity of shin splints. SO I checked out my cadence on the treadmill at a number of speeds. I’m right at 180. Wow. I knew I ran funny, but I was really surprised! I’m still not fast, but at least now I know I might be efficient.

Sometimes I need a little me time

2011-04-15T08:56:00.000-04:00

It has been 5 months since I last wrote anything for this here blog. Am I still a blogger? Was I ever?
I tried the 5-finger Vibram running barefoot thingys today - just around the house. I'll tell you something: it's a lot harder to coordinate toes into toe holes than it is fingers into finger holes. It took me about 5 minutes of strolling around inside the house to realize my pinky toe was missing and almost as long to convince it to leave the little piggy that had no roast beef and go wee-wee-wee all the way home. Now granted I'm prone to hot foot attacks and am again missing a large portion of the nail on my big toe (another door-ing accident), but I'm not yet a fan. In fact, I boxed 'em back up to take back to the store. (Outfitter, in case you were wondering.)
I'm still thinking the thrill of running through the woods with nearly bare feet would be terrific and take me back to my childhood, but then again when I did that as a child I usually ended up getting a tetnus shot. Maybe another time.
My sister-in-law just sent me the following, and I do not know from whence it came prior to that, but I like it:

TO ALL THE KIDS WHO SURVIVED THE 1930s, '40s, '50s, '60s and '70s!!

First, we survived being born to mothers who may have smoked and/or drank while they were pregnant.

They took aspirin, ate blue cheese dressing, tuna from a can, and didn't get tested for diabetes.

Then, after that trauma, we were put to sleep on our tummies in baby cribs covered with bright colored lead-based paints.

We had no childproof lids on medicine bottles, locks on doors or cabinets, and, when we rode our bikes,
we had baseball caps, not helmets, on our heads.

As infants and children, we would ride in cars with no car seats, no booster seats, no seat belts, no air bags, bald tires and sometimes no brakes..

Riding in the back of a pick- up truck on a warm day was always a special treat.

We drank water from the garden hose and not from a bottle.

We shared one soft drink with four friends, from one bottle, and no one actually died from this.

We ate cupcakes, white bread, real butter, and bacon. We drank Kool-Aid made with real white sugar. And we weren't overweight. WHY?

Because we were always outside playing...that's why!

We would leave home in the morning and play all day, as long as we were back when the streetlights came on.

No one was able to reach us all day.
--And, we were OKAY.

We would spend hours building our go-carts out of scraps and then ride them down the hill, only to find out we forgot the brakes.. After running into the bushes a few times, we learned to solve the problem..

We did not have Play Stations, Nintendo’s and X-boxes. There were no video games, no 150 channels on cable, no video movies or DVDs, no surround-sound or CDs, no cell phones, no personal computers, no Internet and no chat rooms.

WE HAD FRIENDS

and we went outside and found them!

We fell out of trees, got cut, broke bones and teeth, and there were no lawsuits from those accidents.

We would get spankings with wooden spoons, switches, ping-pong paddles, or just a bare hand or a "ling kock", and no one would call child services to report abuse.

We ate worms, and mud pies made from dirt, and the worms did not live in us forever.

We were given BB guns for our 10th birthdays, made up games with sticks and tennis balls, and -although we were told it would happen- we did not put out very many eyes.

We rode bikes or walked to a friend's house and knocked on the door or rang the bell, or just walked in and talked to them.

Little League had tryouts and not everyone made the team. Those who didn't had to learn to deal with disappointment.

Imagine that!!

The idea of a parent bailing us out if we broke the law was unheard of. They actually sided with the law!

These generations have produced some of the best risk-takers, problem solvers, and inventors ever.

The past 50 to 85 years have seen an explosion of innovation and new ideas..

We had freedom, failure, success and responsibility, and we learned how to deal with it all.

If YOU are one of those born between 1925-1970, CONGRATULATIONS!

You might want to share this with others who have had the luck to grow up as kids before the lawyers and the government regulated so much of our lives for our own good.

While you are at it, forward it to your kids, so they will know how brave and lucky their parents were.

Kind of makes you want to run through the house with scissors, doesn't it ?
----- unknown to me

So, as one of those children who know how big 40 acres was and could hear Mom's whistle from the far corners, get out there and celebrate dirt, dang it! Stomp in the mud, splash in the streams, lakes and ponds. Hit (inanimate) things with sticks and teach your kids how to be kids. You may just find that you remember how yourself.

My tree-worker 12 Days of Christmas

2010-12-13T18:41:00.000-05:00

On the 12th day of Christmas this is what I found:
12* this morning
11 more days of work
10 toes with frostbite
9 loads of woodchips
8 new leg bruises
7 falling branches
6 a.m. wake-ups
5 dead birch trees
da dum dum dum
4 stumps to grind
3 potty breaks
2 loud chainsaws
and an Arborist in an oak tree

How much wood could a wood chuck chuck?

2010-11-28T10:26:00.000-05:00

Some time in September my husband's tree care company lost an employee. Reasons are irrelevant. What matters is that I was the only warm body available. And I hadn't worked on the crew in 7 years and that was only for a day or so when absolutely necessary.
The day after I drove the chip truck (a 1997 GMC 5500 with a dump box) for the first time, about 500 yards, I suddenly had to drive it from Cross Village to Walloon towing the chipper. Yeah, it's a 5-speed. When I look in the door the driver's seat is at eye level. I'm 5'10 in my work boots. After those first 2 days in Walloon I was fairly certain all of my toes were broken and my ankles, too. My hips, arms, knees and head hurt like no ones business. Those damn boots were murder! I've since broken them in so they're actually comfy, but on the job break-ins are not a good idea.
And did I mention those first 2 days in Walloon I was carrying, not dragging or hauling, brush along a 140' path uphill to the chipper? And then chipping it. I felt like Ben was mad at me and forcing me to condition for some unknown event.
But I made it through. And on to the next 15 jobs.
I drive the chip truck pretty much every day now, whether it's just over to a job on the shore or into Boyne City, it doesn't matter. I've only stalled it 2 times, but unfortunately those 2 times were not at stop lights...
Have you ever driven UP Page Hill Road behind the airport? Well I have. And when I was driving up Page Hill Road I missed a gear. About 2/3 of the way up. With a ton of chips in the back and towing the chipper. And I missed it again. And I started to sweat and get that little tingle of adrenaline you get when something bad has just passed or is looming straight ahead. And I sat and took 3 deep breaths, look in my rear view and went for first from a dead stop going up a steep hill and around a corner. And I stalled.
REally? This bites. I wanted to cry. My tolerance for stupid situations is very low and this ranked about at the top. Oh, back down? Sorry, not so good at backing the chipper, especially with a pintle hitch that is a little sloppier than the old ball. I HAD to make it work.
Of course on try #2 I did. That 2 minutes felt like a lifetime. I did learn it takes a lot more than I thought to burn out the clutch and that the e-brake works quite well. Chalk it up as a learning experience, I guess.
That was about 6 weeks ago, and since then I've been through a lot on the little crew. I have bruises all up and down my thighs from using them to help me carry heavy things. I have calloused over blisters on the bottoms of and in between most of my toes. I have cuts, bruises and scrapes all up and down my arms and even a few assorted bruises on my torso. Really? WTH?? I finally ran a chainsaw one time. I know a lot of knots and how to gas and oil saws, put together pulleys and pole sections, load logs with the forks, run the skidsteer with the grapple bucket and I follow directions quite well.
I can tell what type of wood I'm chipping by the smell, and let me tell you, after being whipped in the face by a sugar maple branch, I'd chip 100 white pines instead of 1 sugar maple any day.
I have found I can do most anything I need to strength wise, though I have also found that finding a place to pee on a job site isn't always easy. I've learned which long johns work best for different weather conditions and which ones stay pulled up under a pair of jeans. I know which notch to put my helmet on when I have to wear my hat underneath and not have it be too tight.
I know - invaluable information, right?
In short, working on the crew has been a weird, exhausting, liberating sort of experience. I look forward to it and dread it all at the same time. It is sooooo tiring but at the same time it feels good. I cannot say I wouldn't trade it because I most certainly would, but it'd have to be for the right thing.
Who knows? Maybe next I'll learn to run the bucket?
In the mean time, I'll be out the door at 8, taking down trees until 5, then coming home to fix dinner, do laundry, read to my daughter and go for a run, only to fall into bed, crawl out the next morning and hit it all over again.

If I had a...

2010-11-28T09:45:00.000-05:00

If I had a band I'd call it Fat Patty and the BooHoo Gang. No particular reason. I just like it.
If I played the lottery I'd win. I don't know when, but I would.
And when I win the lottery I will do lots of crazy things but not get arrested or become a crack whore or any of the Curse of the Lottery things.
What I will do is finish my house, buy the land next door, build a garage and a patio and buy a nice, new truck. Not a fancy, sissy, I won the lottery truck but a nice, big, strong, tough truck. Lincoln don't make no truck like I want.
I will not pretend I can solve the world's problems and I will not expect all of mine to be solved. I will build a gym as an addition and I will have a trainer who will visit me every day and make me work out. I will travel but not just to see how much better I have it than others but to see my old friends who are so scattered and far away in all corners of the world.
I will set up college funds for my children and expect them to be used. I will live off the interest of my winnings so there is more at the end. I will not be ridiculous. I will build a fireplace in my home so I can get warm after splitting wood in the rain.
I will support my husband through his quest for a BA and master's and PhD.
And I will still not be cool. But that's ok.

I don't usually do this...

2010-09-14T16:42:00.001-04:00

Now, for those of you who know me, the occasional rant is not out of character. However, I tend to keep my writing to non-rant material because really, who wants to read it?
Today, though, I'm knocking down the don't rant wall.
I'm pi$$ed.
Now, I've been married for 8 years. I have known my in-laws for 8 1/2 years. They are not at all like my family. At all. I am not saying that is bad. It is a fact. They are all about teachers rights and democrats and science and work for it or it isn't yours and oh, we have grandkids. They read Ben text books for night time stories, ate sesame sticks in the 70's and had dogs and cats despite their only child's allergies to both. They are academics who weren't sure what to do with a super-intelligent, trouble making, over-active child.
The whole time I've know my in-laws we've had the stereo-typical relationship: cautious, careful, watchful, etc. As time has gone on I have found I do not rely on them at all for anything they say they'll do, as their plans and emotions change quickly and without warning.
Let me set some scenes. Our house, dinner, any old time. MIL (mother in law) playing with kids, Ben watching TV/reading/working outside, FIL sitting on couch playing a pocket crossword game alone, and of course, I'm in the kitchen. (We don't go to their house because our kids have asthma attacks every time because of the dogs and cats.)
Because Ben is an arborist and has a tree care company, we have a LOT of wood that can be split for firewood. I'm in charge of keeping our outdoor boiler going year-round, and since Ben has work 6 days a week and classes in TC 2 nights a week until 10:00, I've decided to split a lot of the wood this year as well.
Big whoop, right?
Well, FIL also takes wood. He comes over, splits and takes wood for his outdoor boiler, He always calls first. He has informed me he feels he's doing us a favor.
He called on Sunday to say he was coming to get wood. Ben had split oak for an hour and so had I. We're talking about 2 face cords of split wood, all hardwood, all the right size for me to move and stack. FIL was told, with me as a witness, NOT to take what we had split.
Ho took it. All. And left behind less than a cord of half rotten beech in its place. When Ben called him out on it, FIL told Ben to stop being so picky and, oh, by the way, you never thanked me for giving you the land you built your house on. Really? Lie. We both thanked both FIL and MIL profusely for the scrub pines, gravel and shack they gave us with which to start our married life.
Needless to say, I was irate. Shaking, sweating, pacing, unable to speak clearly irate.
I called and left a message saying just that. Thank goodness Ben understands. He was a little put off about hi dad calling back and saying we can no longer take lumber there to mill, but he's pretty sure that will blow over in time. I, however, am done. I will be polite, I will be civil. I will not go out of my way to share my life with a man who does not respect his child, his child's wife, or their children. Period.
Thank you all. I feel better.

Whole lot o' nothin going on

2010-09-14T10:50:00.000-04:00

In 1998 I was accepted into culinary school in Montpelier, Vermont. I didn't go because I was chicken. Ever wonder what would be different if a big decision had been made differently? Also, this very month, about this very time, my son or daughter, lost in 1991, would be 19 and a freshman in college. What a different world this would be for me. Would I be married? Would I still live in HS? So many variables and factors. Too many to delve into.
While my life has been thrumming along not doing much 2 friends of mine have had big happenings. One friend just completed her first Tri. I'm so proud! And a little jealous. And a little curious about picking her brain to see what's what and what else I need to know. Maybe I'll do a shorter one to start? An all women's Tri? Not local so no one is watching? Hmmm.
Another friend was just rightfully exonerated in a legal case that should ot have involved him from the get-go, as he was not involved. What an emotional toll that took on him, and me, and everyone involved. He has been so brave, so loyal, so faithful throughout and should never have been involved. Hooray for him!
I went online at amazon.com last night and ordered training books for Tris - nutrition, strength building, stamina, etc. I'm getting fired up again, nkowing how hard it is and how much it will bite at times. My lovely daughter has tried to convince me I'm perfect even though I'm "chuvvy" and that she'll love me even if I do not do a Tri. What a sweet little bean. I'm going to do it anyway...
Everyone is back in school. I've been sick for a week and feeling under the weather for another. The temp dropped and thus my lung infection flared up again, so I've been having to walk on the treadmill as far as I can before I pass out. I'm listening to a book on my ipod and having quite a pleasant time. I'm ready to get back on the trainer, start running mmore and get into the pool at the high school!
Bring it on, baby. If I've gotten this far in life I can take that next lunge forward, right?

How windy is too windy?

2010-08-18T14:35:00.002-04:00

There's a nice, stiff roughly 15 mph breeze here today, with gusts up to about 25. The sun is shining, the bees are buzzing, the temperature is perfect. The kids have played in the tent outside, in the sprinkler and all over the house. So I decided they should fly kites.
My son has about a 5' kite that was given to him some time ago, and I have a much more conservative 3' kite of the same style and color. My string is longer, though, which I totally did on purpose because I'm a little competitive and like my kite to go higher.

The kids were doing great. My daughter had all 200' of the string out on my kite when I heard her bellowing from the field that she was bored and needed me to reel it in for her. I took the kite from her and began the lengthy process, as each turn of the string reel only pulls in about 6" of string. Pull, wrap, pull, wrap. SHIT! The handle flew out of my hands and across the field at a rapid clip, the kite still 198' in the air. I took of like a shot after it (ok, more like a retarded Clydesdale), sandals flapping, yoga pants falling, bouncing all over the place with my daughter screaming, "MOM! GET IT!" Riiiiight.
Thank goodness the chase stopped when the handle of the string thing got stuck in a birch tree. The kite flew for another 10 minutes or so unattended before it crashed. I have to go back out in a while and climb the tree to get the handle then hope the crash didn't break the kite. Maybe it's a little too windy today.

Giant yellow play dough breasts

2010-08-16T12:34:00.000-04:00

Last night I plugged myself in and off I went. I hit about 4 miles of hilly terrain before my dinner of pesto chicken sliced on salad caught up with me and I had to stop. I either need to eat earlier or run before dinner...
A few weeks ago I was in Walmart with my daughter and of course the tacky clothing drew her in like a tractor beam. She ended up with Oscar the Grouch, the Cheshire Cat and a couple of Hannah Montana shirts (though she's never seen the show). I ended up with the tootsie pop shirt (How many licks does it take...), Sorry (the boardgame), Lemonheads and a bright yellow, unmissable, really quite ugly but good to run in Play-Doh shirt. I wore it last night.
So back to the run. I went down the neighbor's driveway into the woods, up the logging road that parallels their driveway, through brush, downed trees, briars and burrs, the D-O-W-N the other side and after a sweeping right turn back on the trail up to the big beech tree. That's the turn around point most days, as I can make a 3-4 mile run out of it from there.
The fun part is back down from the big beech tree, as it is pretty steep in places and there's a bit of ground cover so there's a little hope and pray involved. Celebration had come on the ipod, and I sang, danced and giggled my way down the trail, all the while running quite quickly for me.
When I got to the bottom, where I make another sweeping right turn and go back up,up,up the next trail, there was a truck at the cabin that's there. I can only imagine what that poor sucker thought as he saw this crazy lady in a bright yellow Play Doh shirt gallumping down the trail, singing away, braids in her hair and kind of nearly out of control, the Play Doh boy bouncing away on her chest. If it had been a child, the memory would have scarred so badly no amount of commercialism could ever re-instate Play Doh as a favorite plaything.

Heat and hormones

2010-08-12T17:21:00.000-04:00

Boy there's nothing quite like a really hot, humid day to wreck my mood. I woke up all happy and ready for a lovely day. I went out with the dogs, my coffee and my camera and took some really neat flower photos. I did some cleaning, some planning, some organizing and was feeling swell.
Than it got hot. Just like that. The little bit of mist burned off and that nasty, sticky, oppressive heat thwamped down on me. I just do not do well in this. Fat girl no like heat. My clothes are sticking to me, my hair is damp all day. I cannot drink enough water but then am all bloated.
I tried to go for a run in the basement where it is nice and cool, but I had t have my daughter help my with my sports bra - you know how you get all sticky and they roll? Yeah. That happened. It was stuck, all rolled up and inside out, right between my shoulder blades.
The run was okay, nothing stellar like yesterday, but it did give me time to reconsider my private thoughts of finding a fall tri in the south to work toward. D - I do not know how you do it down there in NC!!
Then I cam up and showered, around noon. Even with cold water I could not stop sweating! I'm not very good at this.
Besides that, the kids are bickering, the satellite is acting up and I'm all hormonal.
Wait. Is it really hot today or is it just the hormones?

We're all different but none of us has changed

2010-08-11T20:15:00.000-04:00

Last Saturday I went to my 20th high school reunion. What a hoot! Nearly half of my just over 60 person graduating class was there, some with spouses, some without. We hugged, laughed, reminisced and acted like we were still in school. There was a frightening amount of talk about kids in high school and graduated, but also refreshing to know a lot of us have kids in early elementary school still.
We are all so successful in who we have become and I am so proud to be part of the class of 1990. Thanks to all for the wonderful time, and for Aaron, Anna and Bobby, bless you and we missed you.

The following morning my husband and I took the kids fishing at a local lake. Believe it or not, with all of the lakes around and having lived here my entire life, it was only about the 5th time I have fished! I caught a little bluegill and was soooo proud. When I was little my brother, sister and I fished off of my grandmother's dock a few times. We caught Oscar the trout over and over on a bare hook. Other than that, maybe one or two times off of the dock at Irish's and one time at some random club my grandfather belonged to in BFE Petoskey.

Bottom line: I loved it. Except for the 2 water snakes I saw (one of which I nearly stepped on). One of the snakes was about 4' long and 2" across. Gross. That one was in the water and I was standing on top of the dam, so there was no way it was getting me, but none the less when the nearby frog splashed into the water I squeaked. The smaller snake was on the other side of the lake and as I was walking down to cast it flew off into the water while something else went the other way. The other little guy was a leopard frog who, when I was pointing him out with my rod, jumped up and tried to get my lure. It was quite entertaining.

All the while, as we were making our way around the lake casting here and there, my daughter was picking and eating huckleberries all along the trail. Ever read "Blueberries for Sal"? That's my girl! Kaplink, kaplank, kaplunk.

All the while, the whole 4 hours we were at the lake, the local osprey was taking turns perching on a dead birch tree and flying about fishing not too far away. What an idyllic day.

On a completely different note, my brothers have organized both a full and half marathon in town on October 9th. Some sick part of me is considering trying for the 1/2. Right now I am still struggling with my foot, which hurts a bit often and a lot after I hit 3 miles. I need a new rug-type thing for the basement; now that I've sold so much of our old stuff I have more room. My mountain bike is there next to the treadmill but I'm lacking a good space for videos. I never did find the bikini body advertised by Shape magazine but I'm not giving up all together. Videos kill the boredom of the bike and treadmill, though right now I'm running through middle earth with Legolas and Aragon fighting the Orks. Motivating.

So, keep at it, cast your line, and remember a medium fish is fun to catch, too.

When life gives you lemons...

2010-07-29T20:38:00.000-04:00

Runnin runnin, and runnin runnin

I used to see a group in Seattle called "Leftover Salmon." The band name implies they would stink but they didn't - they were really good! The most interesting thing was that I saw them again some years later at Bumbershoot in Seattle. Nice to see a small band go big-ish.

Stick-tights hurt and I'm the princess and the pea of socks. I had so many last night I almost went barefoot in my shoes to get rid of them.

Speaking of Bumbershoot, one year, one day, one hour I stood in one place and could hear Joan Jett and Joan Baez playing live at the same time. That was also the place I learned Princess Di had died - in the stadium watching Beck. Weird, surreal moment.

I have been running a little lately. Well, a bit. Well, more than I should, evidently. I've hit the trails or treadmill for a couple/few miles about 5x per week for the last couple of weeks, but I realized tonight I didn't wait long enough. My gol dern foot hurts again. Back to the bike and boxing. Better for aggression, anyway!

Looking at this all, I realize I've been a horrible whiner. Life has never really given me any lemons. I've had bumps and trips and stumbles but, cliche knock on wood here, I've been very fortunate thus far.

I know people I look at and think, "Really? That too? Again? How does he walk around every day?" And it usually at that point I realize I have a great admiration for that person. There is a lot to be said for people who shrug and say, "It's just my life." No whines, poor me-s, this stinks or any of that. Those people, and I know a lot of them come to think of it, are impressive to me and likely not to themselves. They just roll with it, take the challenges and move on.

Hooray for you all.

Trying again

2010-07-20T21:47:00.000-04:00

I'm sitting here watching "Coyote Ugly", a favorite movie of mine, wondering why I like it because it really makes me feels kind of awful about myself.
I have 2 neices. One is 5 and the other 14. They are both beautiful, kind, funny girls and I adore them. However, yesterday I saw somethng that nearly broke my heart. My amazing 14 year old neice had written some thoughts she was having about herself, ending her statement by noting she needs to stop reading books about beautiful women.
This young woman just spent some time here in town and I had the privledge of seeing her a decent amount. She frolicked on the beach with my daughter, watched the 4th of July parade with me, played Just Dance with her brother and mom, my kids and me. Watching this stunning creature I could not help but marvel at the confidence she possesses. She is everything I longed to be when I was her age and yet there are times when she cannot see it. I wish I could make her.

Last night a friend asked me about the Tri. I didn't go on Sunday - I wasn't ready to see it. She asked how many days I cried and I told her I couldn't talk about it for 2 days and cried for 5 more. I also flipped off the signs on the side of the road until I realized what I was doing...
This friend has decided to aim for the Tri. I cannot even tell you how good that makes me feel. In fact, it made me feel so good last night I went out for a run. Sure it hurt, but I did it. I'm getting ready now, giving it another year to get going, do it right, lose the weight, nurse the wounds and go slowly. I feel like I'm starting from scratch but with the advantage of knowing what's ahead, if that makes any sense.
I have my trainer in the basement again so I can ride when I'm home alone with the kidlets, and often times my stepson runs on the treadmill while I ride and my daughter "lifts weights".We make it a family production and that really motivates me. My stepson is up to running a full mile at 5 mph, which he was not able to do just 3 weeks ago. He is working so hard at being fit and it's so awesome to see.

So I'm back in the saddle. I may never quite look like a Coyote, but I'll be happy with the work I've done for me.

Small town heroes

2010-07-14T14:04:00.001-04:00

When I lived in the town of Conway, Washington, population 424, I was witness to a horrific traffic accident. There were 3 people in one vehicle which lost control and crashed, promptly bursting into flames. The Mount Vernon Fire Department was on scene in no time and the first fire fighter to the car was the father of 2 of the victims, teenaged sisters. I watched in shock and shame as the man yelled, cried, screamed and sobbed at the sight of his beautiful children, beyond any help he could offer, in a situation out of his control.
That was in 1997 and has never left my mind.
There are heroes everywhere I turn: teachers, parents, doctors, emergency responders/fire fighters/policemen. Look at the FDNY, for instance, and the immense outpouring of admiration after 9/11. Heroes.
However, I find the greatest heroes of all to be those in a small town. Please do not mis-understand - rescue workers and emergency workers in cities are unbelievable. But when I look around and see the handyman, the cemetery caretaker, the nurse, mason, teacher, mom, dad, boat rigger, truck driver, security guard and all of the other everyday people who make up out local volunteer fire departments, I see heroes. Every single one.
Whether it is responding to a false alarm at a fancy house whose alarm system has been triggered by a power surge, a chimney fire in a condo, a barn on fire, a dump pit burning on a dry, windy day or the nightmare call of a fatal car accident, these people drop everything they are doing and respond. They answer calls for help from neighboring departments for stores on fire, big homes, jaws of life and any other thing. They leave their families and work at all hours of the day and night to risk their lives to save those of others, often times others whom they know.
That is a small town, and that is a small town hero. The man or woman who leaps out of bed at 5 am to respond to a car accident, to find it is a woman known to all and pray she went quickly. The man or woman who drops everything to help put out a raging fire on a windy day so it cannot spread to the houses next door, only to find the business owner is a cousin. The man or woman who gives everything he or she has to preserve whatever can be preserved in the face of destruction and danger. The man or woman who responds to the call of a body. And it is a friend, a partner, a loved one.
These are my heroes. I cannot be one of you - it takes a special kind. We are so lucky to have you.
Thank you.

Chin up

2010-06-29T21:51:00.000-04:00

Well, it's official. I pulled out of the Tri. It has taken me a few days to be able to accept it as an event and not as a failure, as a hurdle and not a quit.
Training for the last year has taken a lot of time and dedication. It has been fun, hard, $hitty and great. I've run the gamut of emotions through this, and through a tough year it has been my constant. I have pushed myself (and my family) mentally and physically and learned so much.
A dear friend stopped in today to offer her support and words of wisdom. The main thing she offered was the bit of knowledge that I've been doing this for me all along, not anyone else, and I still have me to do this for. There was no challenge issued, no ultimatum set. It has been all about me all along, and it will continue to be until I'm able to do this!
With the kind words and support I have received, along with the encouragement and notes of thanks for the inspiration, I'd be a fool to give up now. I cannot participate in the Little Traverse Triathlon, but don't count me out. I'll be back, leaner and meaner than ever before, and I'll kick some a$$.
Watch my back - and I'll watch yours.

I'm actually asking for help.

2010-06-27T19:03:00.001-04:00

Ok, I'm now 20 days out from the Tri and I think I may have to pull out. I just can't keep going with the crumbling state of me, but I REALLY want to. What do I do???
This is where I have a feeling the stupid gene is working on me, saying, "Oh, it won't hurt that much. You can always have it/them fixed later." But do I risk it? With the current state of my old bod I'm afraid if I put more on it I'm going to really regret it.
Anyone out the with a stress fracture? Torn rotator cuffs? Ehlers-Danlos? Heel spurs? Bursitis? Degenerative/bulging discs?
I bet I sound like a real moron. Stop training, you fool. Suck it up, feel stupid 'cause you couldn't do it. Wipe off the feelings of failure, get fixed and try again.
Right?

You want to stick that where???

2010-06-25T17:49:00.001-04:00

It has come time to face the reality I've been avoiding. I am crumbling. I hurt. I was in my doctor's office today nearly in tears because of frustration, defeat, despair, depression. My body as a whol is strong. My muscles are strong, my heart and lungs are strong, and my brain is getting there. In parts, however, I am falling to pieces. My ankle is all twisted and puffed up, after an x-ray the little crack in my foot has been joined by a spur and swollen muscles/tissue. The bursitis in my knee and hip are really uncomfortable right now. (Imagine a deep, deep itch you cannot scratch nor make go away.) Rats.
So on Monday my doctor's nurse is calling the man with the needle, Dr. Wang (pronounced Wong for you weirdos out there). On my last visit to Dr. Wang he wanted to numb my lower back then insert a scope with which to guide a long needle into my spine full of... cortisone. Puke. On that visit he could not perform his super special "accupuncture" due to another recent rush of steroids into my system for the pneumonia I was battling.
However, I guess given my current state of disrepair it may just be a necessary evil. It's time to do it. I'm told it should also help my foot and shoulders, along with my back, hip and knee.
Go team.
That's my update for the week. I'm off to ice, avoid exercise and feel sorry for myself.
TTFN.

What a weekend

2010-06-14T10:53:00.000-04:00

On Friday I went to my daughter's last day of school chocolate fountain party. I found it interesting that most of the boys were drinking the chocolate from the the little paper condiment cups while the girls were carefully dipping...
I then went on to pick up and deliver folding tables and chairs, drop off dirt to be analyzed at the local MSU Extension office, go to the post office, take the recycling to the center, get ice cream for my dumpling, go home, pay bills, drop off the mail, drop off the dumpling with my mom, meet with a contractor at my aunt and uncle's house, go to the bank and get cash for my husband, drop off said cash with said husband, grab a drive-through "snack", go to the drug store and then drive to Charlevoix to pick up my step son for the summer. Oh - and then drop off more mail, pick up the dumpling and come home. Pretty typical.
Except on Saturday afternoon, when I realized my company credit card, with which I got cash for the hubby, was missing. After a thorough search of the car, purse, wallet, pockets, sanity, I was certain I either threw it away, recycled it or mailed it. S$&t.
I love the town in which I live, which is why I live here. It is breath-takingly beautiful, quaint, safe, friendly, trustworthy and stable. However, I found that when I got out my husband's business credit card, issued as a check card from our 100+ year old local bank, to find the 1-800 phone number to call for a lost or stolen card... there wasn't one. Nothing on line. No one at the bank. Mastercard's emergency line transferred me to my financial institution, and, as I mentioned, it now being 7:00 on a Saturday evening, it was closed. Fantastic. I sent an email anyway and left a phone message.
Now, we all hear stories about the post office, going postal, and those letter carriers who just can't get it right. My home town has one who is now and forever more my hero. I had a phone message yesterday late afternoon, 5:47 to be exact, on a Sunday, from a gentleman named Patrick Holt. Patrick is a local mail carrier. When Patrick emptied out his blue mailbox he found my card, called, and then put it in an envelope at the front desk with Fred. My hero. Now, if you know Fred in this case, you know that if I'm not armed with enough identification to get me into Fort Knox I'm not getting that envelope. AND, in the meantime, I have also received 2 phone calls and an email from the bank. Hooray for my small little quaint, safe town.

Back to Saturday. After my long day Friday and panic attack about the credit card on Saturday, my husband looked at me and suggested I go for a run. I did. What a nice change. It's been so rainy I've been training in the basement, so it was refreshing to get outside again. I made mental notes of all the animal tracks I saw, new trees that are down from the winds, signs of horses being ridden on the trails I run, different bird songs, flower scents and all of the good stuff a trail run brings.
As I entered the meadow that marks the last leg of my run I saw a skunk. I've mentioned many times my dogs just do not chase things. I've also mentioned Hank is getting up there in age. Put those 2 tings together and it is pretty amazing that the old boy completely ignored my and ran nose to rump right into that big, fat skunk. Gully and I ran the other direction. I spent the remainder o the evening getting the recipe for skunk scent remover (1/4c baking soda, 1 pint peroxide and a blurp of detergent), stripping down in the little tiny 1/2 bath and covering myself literally head to toe with the slurry. I barely even got any on me - just when I was holding Hank by his back leg and dousing him with soap and water (bad idea - just spreads it), but it was enough that if I didn't get it off I was going to have to sleep outside. But it smelled outside.

Then yesterday I had about 7 hours of stamina training at my brother and sister-in-law's house, where we took down 6 BIG white pines. I was the chief groundie, meaning I gathered and hauled and coordinated the hauling of the brush to the chipper, as well as moving around the 65 lb. mats for driving on grass and rolling as many of the trunk sections as I could up the hill and onto the flat part of the lawn. I'm too old for that. Actually, truth be told, I had a great time. I was snuffing sweat up off the end of my nose, getting sap in my hair, blisters on my feet, cuts and bruises on my arms but it was fun. Everyone was working - from 3 year olf Charile all the way up to his mom.
After that we went to the cabin for my dad's 65th birthday dinner - Ben and the kids and I all pretty much just sat there - exhausted, content.
So, spend time with your families. Do good deeds. And be thankful for who you are and where you live.
So, spend time with your family, do good deeds,

Define "Little"

2010-06-09T10:03:00.000-04:00

I talk a lot about my daughter in this blog. She's my center, my peace, my love. She's also starting to have a hard time with her size.
Now my little beauty was born perfectly in the 50th percentile for both length and weight, but within 2 weeks she hit the 95th. She stayed there until she was 3, at which point she was off the chart. Literally. I actually had a lady ask me if I were certain about the year she was born.

Yesterday I took my little dumpling in for her 6 year old check up. She is 52" tall and weighs 66 pounds. That puts her at the average size for an 8 1/2 - 9 year old. No wonder her legs hurt! No wonder she gets frustrated! No wonder she trips and falls! I wish I could help her physically. I always tell her how smart and beautiful and funny and perfect she is... but it has to be hard when outsiders expect a certain level of maturity that just isn't there.
I spend an inordinate amount of time every day trying to figure out why she gets so angry, frustrated and moody, when what it boils down to, I think, is that she is growing. She is tired and hungry all the time and it all goes to feeding her growth. The fantastic doctor we see has been chuckling about it since she was 3 months old, saying, "Well, she'll level out, taper off and the other kids will catch up." He told her yesterday that she isn't growing faster than they are, just more. I object to people calling her "hefty" or "big" or "sturdy". She just IS. Let my little girl be little - she is only 6. Heck, she's been 6 for just 3 weeks - let her be little. Let her cry, speak funny and not know her mother's maiden name. Let her be shy now and then, not know how to multiply and still be working on her basic reading skills. Kids are pushed so hard these days anyway, I need to remind people not to assume because of size that they need to be pushed harder.

SO, off of that and on to training. I talked to a dear friend yesterday about my fears and she really helped a lot. I feel better about what to wear, where to park, how to change and all of that. My back has been killing me, and I attribute a lot of that to the stress of the unknown, not to mention the gardening I've been doing. I'm hoping it will go away. That and the new ping in my knee. And the pain in my shoulder. And my bleeding toes. And the big blister between 2 of my toes. And the stress fracture in my foot. Anf the asthma-triggering allergies. And, ah, what the hell. I'm doing it anyway. I'll just get good painkillers.

Biometrics, the Stupid Gene, and by the way, where do I change?

2010-06-04T10:36:00.000-04:00

So I'm starting to freak out. I'm looking at t-minus 6 weeks, 3 days. I'm still flabby, I'm still bumpy. I am working on biometrics and 2-a-days but I find that when I am working out and the thought of the Tri crosses my mind I start to panic and have an asthma attack. That's me, Uncle Iggy with the Asthma. I find that I almost want to fall and tear something. Then come the questions. What do I wear? Where do I change? How will I find my bike? What do I do when I have to pee? How long can I be out there before they send out a search party?

WHAT HAVE I DONE?????

This is way worse than wedding anxiety. There's no prep for that. (If you did it like I did and only have a 3 month engagement, get married in a park and have the mayor perform the ceremony.) I'm looking into overeaters anonymous because as soon as I start thinking about this Tri I start eating because I haven't lost all the weight I wanted to lose. Are you starting to get the picture? I'm a mental case. I need some soothing, calming drugs, maybe valium.

After my tail bone pain last week I was griping to my mom, which I do now and then. She allowed as how my seat was likely tipped too far forward, which also explains why I have to keep re-positioning myself so I stop sliding forward. I shoulda been a brain surgeon.

Actually, in my family we have what we fondly call the stupid gene. It allows us to do really dumb things and explain them away, like, say, sign up for a sprint-distance Tri when morbidly obese and expect it to work. Or start over-doing it after knee replacement surgery so much that the achilles tendon in the other leg tears. Or going all out down hill on a board with 4 wheels and just figuring you're going faster than gravity can detect.

The amazing thing about the stupid gene is that it is not actually passed down biologically but rather by association. My mom does not have it. My mom's brother does. My dad does, while his sister does not. However... my cousins and my siblings and I all have it, except for my sister. She has smart voids, but no stupid gene.

Speaking of that, I am a firm believer that there is such a thing as a stupid question. Now please keep in mind that I do not use the word "stupid" lightly. I do not allow my kids to say things or people are stupid, for instance. I do not often say something is stupid, unless it is really warranted. My beautiful, happy, short-brained dogs are not stupid - they are simply labs. But if you come to my house holding a flaming torch and pitchfork, leading an angry mob and ask to speak to the girl training for the Tri, well, that is a stupid question. NO! Go away. So when I'm settling in to watch TV with my husband and we start watching the same show at the same time and he asks me what's happening or what he missed, yeah, that's a stupid question.

I'm waaaay off course. I'm blathering because I'm nervous. I'm typing to keep my hands busy so I don't eat... because I'm nervous.

Time to go to the basement and do some biometrics with Jessica and her friends Madison and Anita. (Watch Anita for low impact.) Gotta scoot.

Be smart, be safe and don't sabotage yourself.

If you spit on the sidewalk you may not get into college

2010-06-02T17:20:00.000-04:00

When I married my husband nearly 8 years ago I knew there was a part of his past he felt perhaps ought not have happened. Okay, done, over.
However, my husband, the scholar, the Board Certified Master Arborist, the scientist, analyst, intelligent, education-seeking man that he is, has been circle filed at MSU.
When I went to college, way back in 1990, there was no such question as, "Have you ever been convicted of a felony or misdemeanor?" Well folks, now there is. And if you ever peed in public or "moved" a newspaper stand or dated a 16 year old when you were 17 or used a fake ID or swiped a candybar or trespassed at a neighboring school to watch your significant others' track practice you may not be able to receive a higher education.
Having been married for 8 years, there are certainly things I would like to improve on in my marriage, my personal and professional lives and my interactions with my household companions. One thing I have never doubted or had any inclination to change is my husband's dedication to his quest for education, his desire to absorb all knowledge available to him and continue right on through to obtaining a PhD in whatever field he chooses.
But he can't.
He paid for and 4.0-ed each of the 7 classes he took at NCMC while working full time. He is a successful business owner, dedicated husband and father, devoted member of our small town and a member of at least 5 professional tree/landscape/etc organizations. But he made a decision at age FIFTEEN that has had a profound affect on him 20 years later.
Tell you children NOW to mind their ps and qs or they may well not get into college. Even a state college. Even with a clean background for 20 years, letter of reference from 4 of the university's own teaching staff and a clear desire to futher their own knowledge and education.
Sad.

Fat bottom girls, we make the rockin' world go 'round.

2010-05-27T09:52:00.001-04:00

Yes, we do make the rockin' world go round.
I remembered yesterday 1/2 way through my 12 mile mountain/road bike ride yesterday that when my 6 year old was born she chipped part of my tail bone and the little chip is still floating around in there. Ouch.
I say I rode 12 miles but it was actually more; I spent a lot of time tacking back and forth in my lane trying to run over tent caterpillars, which, by the way, pop when you squich them with a bike tire. I know it's disgusting but it helps when you have made the decision to turn onto the gravel road and make the ride longer instead of taking the straight shot home.
I hope I didn't frighten anyone too much with the bum shot. I'm just trying to make a point. And I never get to see it so I thought I'd take a look.
In my long absence from this here blog I have been training pretty steadily. I am confident I will complete the Tri; I may even set a new record for slowest all-around pace! I do not care. I'm realizing I'm a person who didn't know she had it when she did and likes to pretend she has it now that she doesn't. Know what I mean? Now that I'm a frumpy nearly 40 housewife I like to think I'm all that - sexy, beautiful, witty - a real Mrs. Robinson. When I WAS sexy, beautiful and witty I was fairly certain I was frumpy.
My old dog Hank made it on a 7+ mile run with me last week... barely. It was hot and once we got through the woods into a wind-less, shade-less clearing he disappeared. Just when I had nearly decided to give up and go get the truck, he trotted out of the brambles, gasping, wheezing, heaving and about 30 seconds from having a heat stroke and dying right there. Poor old guy - just being loyal. We found a little creek on the way back home and he sat down in it for some time before he was ready to go again. No more long runs for the boy. In fact, I hopped on my mountain bike yesterday to take the dogs for a quick spin and he opted to wait at home. Sad.
I want you to want me, I need you to need me. Be tru to yourself and, if you must, love the one you're with because you can't always get what you want.

Lately life is like a Steven King story...

2010-05-04T17:20:00.000-04:00

Today a man I've known my entire life died. May 4, 2010. He was no older than 65. Sunday a local man I'd never met died, age 47. Yesterday a man from the town across the Bay fell off of a ledder, hit his head, and died. Last week, on Wednesday to be exact, another man I'd known for about 30 years died. He was 63. 2 weeks before that it was Bobby, age 39, and a month before that Mr. Fischer, 69. On January 3 a former schoolmate (39) got wasted and shot his best friend, age 24. Point blank in the chest. Another former schoolmate, age 35, has breast cancer. And no health insurance.
May we stop now please?
The kind, good people of this town, county and area have had all we can take.
We will keep on ticking because we have to, but the survivors, close and at arm's length, hurt.What we have in our favor is strength in numbers, though those are getting smaller faster than we'd like.
Accept the person despite the faults. Feel even if it hurts. And for God's sake tell the people you love that you love them while you can.

Today I ran and ran

2010-04-20T20:34:00.000-04:00

I ran 6 1/2 miles today. That is the farthest I've ever gone. I just kept going and going and going until I was almost lost. Now, if you ready my post from earlier today you know an old friend died last night. I decided to take a look back at the people I knew who died too young and do this training and this Tri for them, as they never got the chance. It was like an awakening.
While I was out running the sadness and the memories of my former classmate overcame me. I made a very important discovery: it is very hard to run uphill while crying, I sounded like a hippo choking on a hunk of algae. Of course that made me laugh and then I was all a mess.
Another important discovery: my dogs are oblivious to the world around them. Gully was in front of me by about 5 feet. He trotted along the path, with no unnatural movements, and 2 steps later a grouse flew up so close to me it brushed my skirt and I may have even screamed a little,
My other important realization in the deep woods today was that my neighbors have had some logging done. I did not wear my contacts, and, what with the teary eyes and all I couldn't see very well. I got a little tangled in some tops that were along side the path and my legs look like I was subjected to a lashing of some sort. Whoops.
But I feel great. I was able to do a lot of thinking and processing, though whoever put that song about after life and twilight and don't shed a tear for me when I'm gone is in big trouble. TOTAL tear jerker. I am one of those people who watches, listens, and says, "Sure. Ok." but doesn't really process things. Today was a day of processing for me. I mourned the loss of and celebrated the memories of so many people, all the way from my early 2nd trimester miscarriage to my grandparents, my 17 year old reunited love to my friend's brother whom I never met. I thought about Sam, who died in a fire when I was about 6. I thought about old pets. I covered it all and it felt so good. Just me, my feet, my dogs and miles and miles of hilly, wooded trails. It was the best therapy I could have asked for.
Be true to yourself.

It's hard to run uphill while crying.

2010-04-20T13:45:00.002-04:00

Today is a dangerous day for me. An old friend, an old flame, an old classmate from my younger days died last night. This is dangerous for me because I can feel myself sliding backwards into the coulda-shoulda-wouldas.
Bobby was one of those classic high school jocks who knew how cool he was. Suave, cocky, never stingy with a smile. Fun lovng, hard partying, endlessly flirting. Bobby D. Snaggle tooth. Skunker.
There was a short time in my late 20's when I was back in town full time, before I met my husband. During that time I worked afternoons and evenings at a restaurant then went to Bar Harbor afterwards. I loved it. Bobby and I reconnected there - and for a short time our old high school effort was on the front line again. I can still feel him standing behind me, holding me tightly on the back deck while we watched the moon rise. He was always soooo skinny but he was never weak. It helps to know the fight was a good one.
I have to remember without being pulled in. I have to be able to feel and cry and be angry without quitting. This is a time for me when I typically stop being productive and wallow in things I cannot change, nor would I if I actually could.
So I have to take my memories of Bobby and use them. Make myself stronger. Know I cannot give up. Bobby never did.
I have a new purpose. I am doing this Tri for Bobby. And for Tom and Anna and Kam and Aaron. And for Todd and Chas and Barb and Audrey and Nick. And for all of the beautiful souls who never got the chance to do this and who never quit. This is for you.

We certainly are from different planets.

2010-04-18T11:07:00.000-04:00

This morning as I was getting the kids up, making sure they were performing their morning hygeine rituals, washing the dishes, emptying the dishwasher, answering the phone, making the bed, sweeping the floor, reading Friday Folder papers, planning tonight's meal, insisting that a formal dress is not for outside play, cleaning cooked on bits out of the microwave, making coffee and walking the dogs, my husband was pacing.
Now, he was partly pacing because he just does that, but he was also pacing because he's fixated ion the fact that a "competitor" has joined a professional organization of which, up until now, my husband was the only local member.
I understand the implications. I understand the uneasy feeling that, in these times, another person in the pot is likely to mean reduced income. Got it. However, I have too many things to do besides fixate on one thing I cannot change.
Why am I telling you this? Simple. The difference between men and women.
I ran 4 miles on the treadmill yesterday, squished in between all of the other things I was doing, and that was a lot for me. (Yes, I know, I'm down to 91 days...) Ben went down and ran until the damn thing shut off. 10 miles. Really? He is having a hard time walking today...
The rarely spoken truth is women tend to have a higher tolerance for pain, thus the tolerance for childbirth. I don't get the single-minded determination of running 10 miles on a belt in the basement, but I could do it if I had to juggle 23 other things at the same time.
Speaking of doing more that one thing at a time, since I began this I've been on the phone, soothed a crying child, told another one to stop shooting his sister at point blank range with his battery powered nerf gun (gift from the grandparents), replied to 3 text messages, made plans with another mom for a play date, gotten snacks for the dumplings and written 2 checks. I refuse to be labeled ADD; I just call myself talanted.
All said, men and women really are different creatures. I feel so deeply, nothing is a scratch on the surface. Do not have an argument with me, walk out the door to the next project and come back in whistling. I am still mad. I don't hold a grudge, and I don't think may women do, but we do feel, absorb and work those feelings until they are processed and gone. Men? Well, men can call eachother names, get in a fight, then buy eachother beers all in 5 minutes.
I just don't get it.
I'm off to take the kids outside for a run/walk now. Keep warm, sweat lots and finish what you start.

Friends new and old and finding things in common

2010-04-17T08:45:00.001-04:00

A friend of mine from college turned 40 yesterday. 2 frightening things happened: 1) he ran 40 miles to "celebrate" and 2) I realized I've known him for 20 years. That doesn't seem so bad except that means I started college 20 years ago. Woah. What the heck am I doing trying to prep for my first Tri at age 38?
My friend's wife had a party for him last night. She's a great lady - by the way. While there, I started talking with a young woman I do not know very well... and found we have more in common than I thought. Isn't that refreshing? I love it when I let down that social guard I have, walk away from the excuse to not be adult that I have built in (my daughter) and talk to people. Anyway, it was really a rejuvenator conversation. We talked about training and the Tri and the fact that neither one of us bikes. Another runner friend chimed in and it really made me feel even stronger about doing this darn thing and getting it done.
When I was visiting with my OB way back when she asked what my "birth plan" was for my daughter. I had to tell her I didn't have one - do to me what you must but the goal was to deliver that kid and hope she was healthy. I feel the same way about this. I'll do what it takes to get to the end. I am determined, as I sit here eating left-over Johan's Bakery pecan coffee cake, to bust my hump and complete the Tri.
On that note, I'm off to the basement to run, as it is really cold and windy right now and I have to mow that lawn later anyway...

Don't be afraid to get older. It is a gift, not a curse, as we can only learn more by doing.

2010-04-11T21:10:00.000-04:00

This has been one of those days where I've thought of 75 things to write about but they're all gone now. I finally addressed some of my issues with communication this morning with my husband. Obviously it's a problem or I wouldn't say "finally addressed". I am not going to drag you into the scribbles, whorls and intricate patterns that are my marriage... I just want to say it is important to have the support of the person you live with.

I told my husband this morning that I signed up for the Tri. His response was not what I expected. I was anticipating a little fluff, a little why bother, a little sure ok. What I got was a great, way to go, good for you, you can do it, I'll help you get there. So, for the next 90 days or so I'm on hard core. This idea of mine is too public for me to back out. I have the support I need at home and I will get there.

Ok, so why the Kirstie Alley photo? Well, this is what I'm in danger of becoming. I have the potential to be a stunnning woman. I have, in the past, been a stunning woman. However... I have to find the courage to care enough to get there again. In this world where I have a spouse who loves me and no reason to question that, I have done the proverbial "let myself go" move. I need to stop it and this Tri is my shot. It is my way to stand up, get the endorphins kicking and find an addiction that is better for me than eating or spending. I can do it. I will do it. I do not have a choice. My daughter is far too important to me to set this crummy example for her or to die young and leave her without an example at all.

After my 50 minute weight loss treadmill round this morning I decided to clean. Woah. Stove, coffee maker, pantry, closets, kitchen. laundry room, dining room and one bathroom. I left the bedrooms, livingroom, baths rooms and office for another day. I did, however, take a shower after all of that. I had my contacts in. Bad, bad idea. I tried to let it go, but within an hour I was back in the shower in me bathing suit scrubbing it down. The thing was nasty but invisibly so without proper eyewear. TMI? Yeah, I know.

So now I'm on to Mr. T. He's one bad a$$ momba jomba. I like him. Flint Lockwood!! I will be strong like Mr. T. I will not wear all of the bling. (I prefer silver or white gold anyway.) I will NOT have a mohawk. But I will pity the fool. What fool? Well the fool who is silly enough to get in my way! I'ma gonna do this. I'ma gonna do it well. As well as I can. I still need to get my sister to pretend her birthday is a few months earlier than it is so we're in different age groups...

Keep you feet on the ground and keep reaching for the stars.

I gol darn gone and done it.

2010-04-10T19:44:00.000-04:00

Back in the day I listened to a little Shania Twain. Ok, a lot. I could sing you every lyric of every song on one particular album. Have you ever noticed every one of her songs starts with some sort of grunt, yeeha, yea, uh huh or something similar? The lyrics are not ever the first vocalization.
So yes, I did it. I registered for the Little Traverse Triathalon. I'm probably about number 003 because I had to register right away or not at all. I couldn't even talk about it yesterday because I was in such a state of disbelief/anxiety/holys$#t what have I done.
Having pneumonia put me back almost to where I started fitness wise. Fortunately at this point I have a little bit of muscle memory so I am not too far off. I do have shin splints and a falling arch or something again, but I also have ibuprofen!
My daughter has decided she can wear blue jeans, finally, at age almost 6. The down side is that I already miss her stunning pattern coordination.
There's some song out there that was a big hit during one of the years I worked in Washington state (either 1994, 1996, '97, '98 or '00) that has only one verse other than the chorus, and the latter is repeated over and over in different octaves. Dumb.
I was a closet Madonna fan until it became cool to like Madonna. Now I don't really like her anymore.
I still love the J5 version of "Rocki' Robin".
Were you banished by the jousting team?
My husband is obsessed with little people and lawn gnomes.
I set three new records on Wii Fit plus yesterday.
That's it. That's all I have for now. Off to the tredmill to thump thump jiggle jiggle. Be strong, be brave and use good deodorant.

Life continues despite itself.

2010-03-30T19:23:00.000-04:00

I'm just getting over pneumonia. It has been nearly 2 weeks since I have worked out. In a fit of self pity I deleted this very blog, only to find momoents ago, much to my relief, there is an "undelete" option.
In that same fit of self pity I informed my family I will not be doing the Tri. I hope I was wrong. That is, afterall, the purpose of this whole thing, no?
I don't have a lot to say tonight, just thank you for looking for me. I'm back. I'm not even 80% right now but I'll get there.
Time marches on. Every person in your life is a season, a reason or a lifetime. Today is a gift and that's why it's called the present. On and on. Remember them; they all mean something.

Fat babies ain't got no pride

2010-02-12T20:53:00.001-05:00

I once went to see Lyle Lovett in the park on Bellingham Bay in Washington state. What an event. Bright, sunny, breezy, warm. Perfect.
Last night I ran. I'd love to say I ran so far away, but oh, no. I ran about 3 minutes and was overcome by the feeling some nasty person was scraping the muscle off of my shin bone. Though I'd swear my bones were splintering and cracking I'm told this is just si\hin splints. Okey dokey. I actually reached up at one point and pulled the emergency stop because my right leg just plumb gave out. I had to stand in exactly one position for 3 scenes of "Enemy of the State" before I could move again. After 1600 mg of motrin and an hour of grunting I felt fine, as though there was nothing wrong.
So I went and ran again this morning. Hee hee hee. In my family this is known as the Stupid Gene. It was good for the first 40 minutes but the last 5 put me over the edge again. I'll try again tomorrow...
Last week I went to the doctor 4 times. I have to go next week at least once. I turned 38 3 weeks ago and am starting to wonder if this is related...
I have bursitis in my hip. I had to get a shot of everyone's favorite, cortisone. Then I had to have my annual once-over physical, which also needed a return for fasting blood labs. Now, I'm not a red head, but there are a few in the family. When the furnace kicks on I start popping freckles. My siblings and I have so many freckles and moles my mom actually came up with the Freckle Fairy, who visits at night with a special shaker. (She told my red-headed brother the lid fell off when the Fairy got to him.) Anyway, after the once-over I had to go back in and have a punch biopsy on a mole right on my shoulder blade. Not including the 7 my dear Charlotte froze off last summer, that makes 7 removed. All so far have been benign and obviously hope for the same result this time around.
For some reason that brings me to my next point. It is time for me to start cross training more. I still have to get that road bike from Mom and figure out how to get a pool pass so I can go swim in the mornings. I have 155 days and I know I'll make it. I have a friend who's due with her third child on April 19 and I think she might be a good partner for me... about my speed with no training and 3 little ones. Come to think of it, she's run so darn many marathons I don't think I want her around. No offense...
Off I go to dust off the dogs' leashes and get ready for the Grateful Dog Snowshoe Walk tomorrow morning. Stay warm, cool down, and muscle sinks, right?

The most amazing thing

2010-01-27T08:58:00.002-05:00

Last night I ventured out of my cozy room here at the JW Marriott in Grand Rapids to walk the SkyWalk to DeVos Performance Center. I had a ticket to a show I thought sounded interesting and had already sort of decided intermission might be my exit point. (I always like to have a strategy, lest I get stuck at a comedy show or the like.)
Being a lily white, incredibly naive northern country girl, I had thought a lot about the walk home throught the SkyWalk at 10:00... would I be alone? Would it be locked? Do I ask or does that give me away?
I found the Center, found my seat, and waited for the show.
As I flipped through the program and got to the part about the cast my attention was captured. Really? Uranmandakh Amarsanaa, a graduate of the Mongolian State School of Contortion? Sergey Kasparyan, a graduate of the Republic College of Olympic Reserve in Uzbekistan? Maximiliano Laurino and Roberto Emanuel Laurino, brothers from an Argentinian circus family? Robert Muraine, hailed as one of the country's (this one) leading dance poppers today?
This ought to be good.
It was more than good. It was some sort of freaky amazing.
Now, I have a very minor form of tissue disorder called Ehlers-Danlos, which allows me to bend and contort a bit more than most. This affliction has come in handy for things like skiing accidents and gym class, where I could do a backbend and walk my hands in until they were on my feet.
However, the 4 little tiny Mongolian women who were on stage with their chins and chests on the floor and their legs bent all the way over their heads have a bit of a more advanced case of E-D. Holy wow. I was so confused I couldn't tell which parts were which or whose they were for that matter. Rolling and spinning and hanging and stacking. Woah.
Then there was the man on the balance board on top of one can, perpendicular to the board. Then he kept adding them, until he was up to 6 paint cans, all at 90 degree angles to eachother, on top of about a 6' platform. And the man who climbed and spun and twirled and danced above the stage on a single rope hanging from the ceiling. And the man who spread-eagled himself inside a giant hula-hoop and spun and bounced and rolled all over the stage - while singing in a beautiful, rich voice. Oh - and the Popper. What a shocking display of double-jointedness! I couldn't decide if I was thrilled or ill watching him wrap his arm so far around his head that it was all bent at right angles and in a completely impossible shape.
The entire time during the 2 hour show there was always something amazing happening. While the hand balancer was stacking a dozen chairs at odd angles to then stand atop them on one hand with his body bent waaaaaay over to the side, the dancers were all over the stage. The Vagabond was roaming and entertaining, the saxaphone player was wailing away and the singer was belting out tunes about the railroad in a wonderful voice. I know if I went back to see the show again, which I would, I would see eleven hundred things I missed the first time. These performers exhibit the epitome of physical awareness and control. Each and every one is so talented, strong and able. It was very inspiring.
So, go see Cirque Dreams Illumination if there is any way you can.
Be strong. Be balanced. Be able.

Just three more

2010-01-25T22:16:00.005-05:00

Well, it's been a month since Black Beauty was set up in the basement. In that time I've put 97 miles on her. Considering I don't use her every day at this point I'm pretty darn pleased. I have to remember to run before 7:00 pm because that's when my daughter goes to bed and I don't think the machine gun fire and RPG explosions of "Blackhawk Down" need to be incorporated into her dreams.
I can pull my jeans off now without unbuttoning them.
I've decided to eat more fish.
I had Dominos pizza tonight and actually liked their old stuff better.
My daughter begged for Hot Pockets for 2 weeks. I finally gave in. It took her 7 hours to eat half of one and I ended my 4 mile run to the sight of her in her ballerina outfit, crying, with ...puke... all over it. No more Hot Pockets. Ever. (I've never had one.)
My step-son was with my husband and me for 2 weeks over Christmas and lost 4 pounds.
Does anyone spell "Emmet" correctly? There is only one "t" at the end.
Right now I am getting really excited again about the Tri. It sems to loom large in my everyday thoughts, which sort of seems selfish. I go back and forth between it being fresh and new and exciting and it being just another upcoming event. It's sort of like when you get excited for a trip so long before it happens that you eventually get so used to it being in the future that it's no big deal. I need to keep things in check and know that this is going to be the biggest challenge of my life (that I've purposely gotten into) and it will challenge me in so many ways.
Even now, when I run, I find it is so simple to just stop and be done. Oh no, no, no. That ain't the way it's done. I have to remember to push, push, push. Keep running, Put the clip on my shirt so if I take a digger the treadmill shuts off and my chin doesn't bounce and burn until I can get out of the way. I have to run until the Blackhawk is shot down. Until Bourne finishes this chase. Until Clint shoots the sheriff. Until Bumblebee turns back into a car. I'm turning into one of those people in Must Run Park. It's like a big brain wash. And I like it.
I'm a sissy runner in the beginning. I always want to quit after the first 3 minutes. It hurts. I can't breathe. I'm bored. I have heartburn. I have to pee. Once I get past that I can go for a while. It is just that initial mental game.
Is that what the Tri will be? I'm certain a lot of it will be. It must be as much mental as physical, at least at times. I have to really prep in so many regards and really, really be okay with doing MY best, not with being THE best. That has always been a challenge for me. I tend to quit when I'm not the best, thus I never really get to be any good at anything. It makes for an interesting life.
Be great, don't stagnate and spend wisely.

Missing but never gone

2010-01-17T17:46:00.004-05:00

Well, I slipped back into my holiday funk and decided not to write for a while. Holiday? you ask. Well, birthday, too. I alsways look forward to them, feel as though they should be knock down, blown up, out of this world and they just never are. I DID have a lovely sledding party with my family and dinner with some friends, and it was all very nice.
The highlight of the weekend, however, was watching my daughter (5 1/2) and her cousins (3,4 1/2 and 6) "compete" in a mini triathalon. The event was put on by the local daycare and sponsored by a few child minded business - it took place at a PT center. The 4 cousins took off through a 5-lap obstacle course of swinging, weaving, jumping, crawling, bouncing, hopping and bounding then moved onto a 6 lap bike route (through the gym, lobby, bathroom and back into the gym. After that it was laps in the therapy pool. Each section started with all of the kids together and it took about 20 minutes all together. It was very well run, planned, executed, sponsored and attended. Not only that but it was trull gratifying and inspiring to hear my daughter tell me she wanted to be like me and do her own tri.
Speaking of speaks, I've been a running fool ever since Black Beauty arrived in my basement. I've also watched the Bourne trilogy a few times, as that seems to be what really keeps me moving. I try to be down there every day, but it ends up being more like 5 a week. A good solid 45 minutes of running and hiking uphill seems to make me sweat through the front, back and sides of my shitrs, so I call that good. Each day has a different mood so speeds and distances vary, but I keep the time between 45-60 minutes. Slow and steady, baby, slow and steady.
I am down to 6 months to be ready for this thing, so it's really time to be right with it. I need to put my head down, put the food down, and make it work. Smoke 'em if you got 'em.

Must Run Park

2009-12-27T08:41:00.003-05:00

There's a park in Seattle, well Green Lake, we called Must Run Park. Why? Well, if you look into the eyes of the people in the park, all of whom are running, all you see is, "Must run. Must run. Must run." It's like they are all in some weird trance and running will save the world for them. It's the closest thing to brain washing I've ever seen.
I spent 47 minutes travelling the countryside in the basement yesterday. I went back to the Minneapolis in March, visiting Josh and Molly while driving to Conway, WA with Dad. I hiked the Goat Lake trail, the most beutiful place I have ever been. I was stuck going 35 on I-94 in an Escort hatch-back with a howling puppy and weather bulletins telling me to get off the road. I travelled the 71 miles across the northern tip of Idaho, rolling into the unbelievably wide state of Washington, not getting to my home until 7 hours later. I saw the floods in Davenport, Iowa under the bridges on I-80. I stopped at the cafe in Dubois, Wyoming, where they have the best homemade soup in the West. I rafted the Arkansas River, circumnavigated Vancouver Island in a 42' sail boat and played canoe polo on Lake Dillon. I travelled I94 on the Greyhound bus between Kalamazoo and Ann Arbor too many times to count. I hiked the mountains of the Baja Peninsula of Mexico, paddled the coastline of the Sea of Cortez and sailed with the whales for 3 months.
But then I had to stop in Michigan City, Indiana to get a tire fixed in my Honda Accord. I blew out my muffler in a downpour at night in Bismark, North Dakota and missed the turn for all of the hotels. I got lost in Rhinelander, Wisconsin, thinking the town was actually town, not the closed off part and again, not where the hotels were. I nearly threw my old cat off the Mackinaw Bridge when she wouldn't stop yowling, and she pushed her luck again when we rolled into Wyoming and she used the rear end of the car as a litter box. I slep in a rest area outside of Chicago too tired and hungover to drive any further toward home. I passed a man walking on the shoulder of US2 in the UP in a blizzard going 20 miles per hour, only to be passed by an ambulance 3 miles down the road.
Through all of that Transformers II was rolling on the old TV, and I really didn't pay attention to much of it. My Ipod decided not to cooperate so I was stuck with a movie - and I cannot function with anything but a shoot 'em up, blow 'em up. Black Hawk Down works well, as does the first Transformers. Mr and Mrs Smith is good and every now and then when Ainsley decides to join me the Backyardigans will do.
The Christmas rain has done a number on the cross country trails, so I'm on hold with that particular weight loss routine right now, but I'm confident it'll snow again soon. Until then, I'll be in the basement, travelling the countryside on my own 2 feet. See the sights, take them in and remember well.

I'm in love

2009-12-25T17:13:00.004-05:00

I'm in love with a big blue frog, a big blue frog loves me. It's not as bad as it may seem - he wears glasses and he's 6'3! Actually, he's not blue. SHE is black. She is sleek. She wears a wide belt, has sturdy handles and 12 speeds. She has 16 pre-set courses and a heart monitor. I visit her daily. Her initials are N.T. Got it yet? My new TREADMILL!!! I'm smitten.
The last week or so I was in a giant, ugly funk. I was having a hard time with Mimi's death, my sister being so far away and my husband being a task master at work/home. Not to mention PMS. What a doozy. Last night, however, it all melted away.
My parents have lived in the same house since I was born. In fact, Dad informed us last night it was their 38th Christmas in that very house. I looked around at friends and family, all 21 of us, and took in the sight. There were the kids: crazy with excitement and lack of sleep, too much sugar and the joy of being at Ahma's. There were the siblings and their spouses: responsible, helpful, but also in that little role each child falls into upon returning home. There were the parents: Mom making gravy and Dad doing the Harold Shuffle... "Can I help? Can I help?" There were the aunts and uncles, playing the roles they have played for years: visiting before going to the other family's house, cooking and carving, socializing and drinking white wine. Then, though, I looked around at the friends. Looked at the people we Baker/Trumble folks asked to be a part of our family on such a special night. The friends are the ones who make me teary.
Poll Doll with her infectious smile and laugh. Captain Susan with her heart 3 sizes bigger than most. Uncle Todd who was part of the family by marriage and returned with gusto as a dear, dear man, always with a smile, a laugh and a bit of history. Caelye, who knows more about Harry Potter and Captain Jack Sparrow that anyone I've ever met and Taddy, who can pick up a conversation 1 year to the day later and still know what he was talking about.
When I looked at the large conglomeration of family and friends I felt like the Grinch realizing the Who's didn't need presents for Christmas to come. I could feel my funk slipping away and the sense of peace and contentedness warm in me. What a magical thing.
So now that I have found my love in the basement and my meaning in my friends and family, I'm really back on track. Old Fannie took me for a nice run today and I still have all of my other lady friends in the basement to jump around with as well. With all the food in my belly from a hard day of eating I might go run again...
Be kind, be thankful, and most of all, let your heart grow and shake of the dusties.

I'm so excited!

2009-12-14T18:55:00.002-05:00

I ordered a treadmill today! It's a Nordictrack... free delivery... guaranteed to be here by CHRISTMAS!!! Merry Christmas to me! I can hardly wait. I can picture me now, living in the basement, striding away, running, running, running all over the world to wherever I want. Ahhhhh.
I've been kick-boxing with Denise Austin. She's very funny. There's a chancve she may be partially deaf, as she is really bad at keeping time with the music. And she has a hard time remembering when she last said, "Ok! One more!" That often goes on for 3-4 repetitions. But it's fun.
With all of the snow on the ground I'm also soooooo ready to start cross country skiing again. I really got into it when I was pregnant with my daughter - for some reason it was the only time I could stay on my feet. Walking down the street gave me fits, but the only time I fell skiing was when my step-son, who was 6 at the time, stopped cold directly in front of me on the trail. He fell, too, so it wan't so bad. Thank goodness my husband was there to help me up!
AAAAHHHCCCCCKKKKKAAAHHH! I'm just giddy about this treadmill. Right or wrong, I'm being horribly materialistic and I love it! 9 days! Thud thud thud thud. Flop jiggle flop jiggle flop jiggle. So ready. No distractions, no one mom mom momming me. Ahhh. Just the basement, the ipod and me. I can taste it now.
A hen pheasant has taken up residence in our woods. We spotted her for the first time on Saturday, just outside the window. We have a lot of fox and cats around (none of which are ours), and we're a little afraid she'll get et. I overheard big bad Ben on the phone today telling a friend he saw the pheasant under the crab apple tree and, since she couldn't reach any of the fruit, picked some for her. Mushy gushy guy, but don't tell him I told you. He'll have a scientific reason for it. So I fed her some cracked corn and layer mash we have for the chickens. Ben said they're not indigenous to the US, let alone northern Michigan...and that they are ground roosters. We're going to try to catch her at some point and put her in with the chickens so she does not get et. I'd be sad.
Well, off to put the dumpling in bed. Run hard, love hard and be happy with who you are.

A new beginning

2009-12-10T13:13:00.002-05:00

Today is a new day. Well, it's 1:14, so it's been a new day for a while, but you know what I mean. My daughter has her 2nd snow day in a row and has been talking non stop for 2 days - either to me or to herself - and I cannot wait for a break in the action. She is so sweet and kind and naive and I cannot imagine life without the wonder that she is, but a little girl screaming, "Sir! Yes Sir!" and "Dude, am I cute or what?" and "Hey Mom! Hey Mom! Hey Mom!" for this long is a little much.
As you know, my grandmother Mimi died on the 1st. It's still not quite real, and when I think about all the STUFF in her house the kids need to go through, I sometimes pretend it isn't real at all.
My husband and I moved all of our belongings out of our polebarn last weekend. We were assisted by 3 couples and one of their daughters who have nothing to do with the situatuation but wanted to help. It was snowing like you wouldn't believe and we hauled tools, fluids, shovels, manuals, nails, climbing gear, extension cords and all of the other hoo-haw one would normally find in a pole barn. It took the 9 of us 4 hours, start to finish, and then we sat around and drank coffee and ate chili. What a way to spend a Saturday! There was sooooo much stuff that I was exhausted - but I worked out anyway. Denise Austin kickboxing. That lady can pack a powerful workout into 23 minutes - especially after a big bowl of chili! Lesson learned - I thought more than once I was going to hurl.
Then another set-back. I find myself once again in possession of a hearty lung infection, brought on no doubt by the cleaning out of the pole barn and hauling heavy loads in the cold for so long. Then shovelling, hauling wood, etc. I'm battling that now, so I've switched over to my boxing video. It has helped a lot in many many ways. The "leader" is some boxer guy who wears a mirrored eye patch and has the courtesy to not talk while he's working out but rather has a voice-over. It feels good to just go and shadow box for a half hour or so then jump rope. It makes me focus on something other than the regular day things.
So with all of the other things going on (we're about to start building a new pole barn since we no longer own the original) I've been a little lax in my workouts. I'm still plugging along with them and am switching up according to mood - hope to get a pool pass for Christmas - and I'm still bent on doing the Tri.
I'll be better about posting I think, and I mean to be diligent with my workouts.
Thinking of all of you in this holiday time...

My angel with golden wings

2009-12-02T08:46:00.004-05:00

To my beautiful Mimi
with wings of gold.
You were truly one of a kind.
You were gracious, tender, smart as a whip
and best: you cussed like a sailor.
So deep, so true.

Tough and opinionated.
Rough and stubborn.
Certain about how things were.
Never faltering, never wavering
in the deep beliefs you held.

As Mimi got older she became more, shall we say, eccentric. I recall having a conversation with Mimi and my sister Mandy that involved a night scope for Mimi's 22 so she could shoot those damn raccoons from the window. (Mimi shot all creatures great and small until we took the rifle away.)
At Mimi's 75th birthday party, local painter Pierre Bitar sat off to the side, painting Mimi's extraordinary English garden. The painting hangs above the mantle in the house still. Margaret Tveden, another local artist, painted the garden and turned the prints into notecards.
Mimi had rings af sapphires and rubies and emeralds, strings of pearls and flower-print denim pants to wear in the garden. The rest of the time she wore blouses from Liberty's of London and old-fashioned knee length wool skirts. With a stature in her day of 5'4" and a size 5 shoe, Mimi's personality made up for her slight appearance.
Without fail Mimi called me Molly Dolly. She always bought her family's birthday cards for the year in January, selecting each one carefully, writing the person's name in the upper right corner, and filing them by month. As she got too old to remember who was who, my mom took over the mailing of the cards. There are 3 kids and their spouses, 11 grandchildren with 7 spouses and 11 great grandchildren. That's a lot of cards.
There's so much to say about this woman I knew as Mimi that I can't even begin to say it all. As Mimi got older and realized she was forgetting things, I stopped going to see her as often. For 2 years we had lunch together every Sunday after she was done with church, but that faded out. As Mimi got even older and didn't know she didn't remember things I began to see her a little more often. There are no regrets, there is no guilt.
May every grand-daughter have a Mimi to teach her the names of every flower in the garden and race her to the deep end of the pool doing the side stroke.
May every grand-daughter have a Mimi to cry at her wedding and hold her first-born child.
May every grand-daughter have a Mimi, period.
I love you, Mimi.
Your Molly Dolly

Bad ass momba jomba

2009-11-29T15:59:00.002-05:00

I've been working out like a mad fool - at least for me. I feel great, despite the 80 pounds of food I've consumed in the last 4 days, and I'm looking pretty allright, too. I have made the bold decision to rotate through my videos: Bikini body, workout for your body type (that one's a real you know what), burn 'n firm, boot camp, Slavic women, etc. It seems to be keeping me motivated and stimulated, so I guess I'll keep at it!
Another plus: my shirts have arrived. I designed them online at Sonic Shack and love them. I was going to have them done locally with the logo I have on here right now, but the cost was prohibitive and they could not match my font. So I started from scratch. They rock.
Here in northern Michigan the temp has dropped a bit but it is not nearly the snowy, blustery Thanksgiving/nearly December of last year. Selfishly I am sort of pleased, as I am eager to get back in the woods on Tuesday and run my trails again. See, hunting season ends tomorrow, Monday, which means I'll be a little safer in the woods than today, for example. Rock on!!
On a different note, I wrote about my 89 year old hell raising grandmother last week, and the next day my Mom called to tell me Mimi had a stroke. Now, as I mentioned, she's been having a hard time for a while, but this is serious. Let's look at the facts: Mimi is, as I mentioned, 89. She was raised on a gentleman's farm in New Carlysle, Indiana. I think Mimi started smoking when she was about 14. She butters every kind of sandwich there is - including pb and bacon, liverwurst, tongue (puke) and anything else greasy and clogging she can think of. She drinks Jack Daniels, puts heavy whipping cream on her cereal and eats a load of cookies every day at tea time. 89. She has outlived both of her brothers and both of her husbands. She is a wonderful, wonderful woman.
Mimi can't sit up or swallow now. She sleeps all day and does not know who anyone is. Every time the phone rings I think, "This is it." Mom has told me to hang onto my memories and be happy with those I have. I understand that. Mimi is far enough gone now that any image I get now will not be the one I want to keep.
Mimi, who let us slide down the stairs in her Weque cottage in our snowpants, her antique French grandfather clock on the other side of the stairway door we used as a brake. Mimi, who gave us pecans at tea time so we could go to the Fairy Woods and set them afloat as boats for the faries. Mimi, who took us to stay in a castle in Scotland for a month when I was four and understood when I picked every bit of quartz out of the gravel drive and hid it in my dressing table. Mimi, who had a Waterford gumdrop dish and a drawer full of candy bars for tea time. Mimi, who lived in London for 9 years, bartered at Turkish markets and drove a Rolls Royce. Mimi, who told me if I sang to the morels they'd pop up.
I'm not ready for the call to come, but when it does, today or tomorrow or in a week, I'll be happy knowing I have had Mimi in my life for 37 years and I have the memories I have.

Girls

2009-11-20T13:04:00.003-05:00

I have a daughter. One daughter. One beautiful, loving, smart, funny healthy daughter. Two days ago my daughter informed me she'd like a baby sister. Oh god. Any girl or woman who has a sister knows the broad spectrum of feelings that comes with the phrase, "my sister."
I have a sister. For nearly ten years I was the youngest and my sister the middle child. She never got to go first. She didn't have the shocking orange hair of my brother or that thing the third child has which I evidently possessed at that time. My sister did pretty well with those things, taking them as they came and working with or around them.
As we got older, I had that classic symptom of all sisters: sibling rivalry.
My sister had the hair I wanted. She is smarter, funnier, faster and more loyal. Of the two of us, she was the first to fall in love. She was the first married, the first with kids. She is what I wanted.
As I have moved along in my life I have realized many things about my sister, but the most important and revolutionary is that, over the years, the rivalry has turned to respect, admiration, friendship and love. My sister tried all the dangerous things first, and only when she succeeded did I try. Thank you, dear sister, for being the role model you never knew you were nor necessarily wanted to be.
And, if you're here in July for the Tri, please make yourself older on the registration form so I am not in the same age group.

A lot about little

2009-11-18T19:38:00.001-05:00

I have used this blog as an outlet for a lot of things in my life, from begging support for my Tri training to reminiscing about my childhood. What started as esentially an online journal of training has become more of a diary and only moderately censored dialogue of the constant running of my brain.
Take now, for instance, sitting here on my bed, hubby at class, daughter in bed. I'm watching E! Daily 10 and finding I really do not care at all about the interventions Janet tried to have with Michael, if Kristin and Robert are a "thing", or if Molly went on a dte with Aaron.
What do I care about? I care that a man I know had his house burn last night. I care that many of my friends are volunteer firefighters and spent the long cold night trying to salvage as much as they could of his dream home.
I care about my strawberry plants and wonder why the runners have gone nuts this year.
I care about my beautiful niece in Alaska, with whom I got to chat on fb tonight.
I care about my family more than is rational or sane, yet I do not care if they are wrong. What matters to me is they mean well and make mistakes sometimes - just like I do.
I care about the earth, but not in a crazy-lecture-everyone-I-know-about-global-warming kind of way.
I love what is important to me and those things revolve and change and evolve as time goes on and it still astonishes me that not only do I know Johnny Depp is People's Sexiest Man Alive but I am also excited to receive my subscription copy of the upcoming issue.
My grandmother is 89 years old. She is a little tiny woman who wears pearls every single day. At this point in her life Mimi remembers nothing of the last 50 years but knows all about her past. Each person who visits Mimi is a stranger but she is always excited for company. Take her birthday. I was sitting across the table from Mimi, with Mom at one end and Dad at the other. A gentleman from Mimi's church walked in and set down a giant boquet of flowers on the table, blocking my view of my grandmother completely. The man left, the conversation continued and, after about 5 minutes, I slid my chair over so I could join in a little more. Upon seeing me appear from behind the flowers, Mimi gasped and said, "Oh! Where did you come from?" Serious or not, it really captured the moment.
From what I understand Mimi was quite a hell raiser when she was younger, but always in the innocent farm girl way. When her faculties were more present, Mimi had a delightful imagination. She was a very talented painter, gardner and story teller. Mimi had 5 of her grandchildren over every Wednesday after school for tea. At one particular tea, she asked us all, "What is green and has wings?" Blank. All five of us blank. "Grass. I lied about the wings." Nice. She taught us to cheat at cards also, but we never knew until we played with others...
That's what I care about.
When I was 16, 17 and 18 to say I was "unpleasant" is very kind. I was nasty and mean, especially to my baby brother Will, who is nearly 10 years my junior. The poor kid took the brunt of my nastiness, as I was his ride to and from school, so he was with me the most. Well, Will got me back one fine April Fool's Day when he filled my tennis shoes with grapes. Enough said.
That's what I care about.
Love. Trust. Relationships. Family. Friends. Companions.
Humor. Intelligence. Flexibility. Compassion. Integrity. Honesty.
People with whom I share these things - that's what I care about.

Alternative methods of exercise

2009-11-18T11:40:00.002-05:00

Last week I got a new pair of shoes. Light, red, fun, stylish and comfortable. SO I went for a run. I donned my bright orange shirt and off I went, along the road headed north because the wind was coming from the south. That was my first mistake.
I cruised on up to Islandview Road and headed west, toward Lake Michigan. I dislike Islandview Road so much I forget how much I dislike it. The surface is flat and level - it has a nice surface on it. The scenery is ok, just a few cows here and there and the dead fox I almost stepped on. The traffic is light and the lack of shoulder forgiven because there are never two cars at once. What's not to like? Well, the gd road is uphill booth ways. When you first turn onto it, a long, gradual downhill is the first thing you encounter. Then you go up, and just as you crest the up, you go up again. Ahhhhh. Down. Ooops, up again. I fully intended to turn onto Vorce Road, a lovely little country number off of Islandview, but alas, when I arrived and looked UP the road, that's all I saw. UP. So different in a car! I faced a tough decision: Islandview with all of its ups back to State Road and into the strong wind home or UP Vorce and add another mile to the run.
Well, my 2 middle toes on each foot were numb at that point already, my legs were feeling very heavy and the legs of my skort would not stay put and my chubby old thighs were a might bit uncomfortable. I turned around.
I'll never know if that was the right move or not, but I made it home in one piece. I could feel my arch collapsing as I removed my shoes and it took a day or so to re-coup. I haven't put the shoes back on...
My husband the arborist has also decided to be a tree grower. We have nearly an acre of garden/nursery fenced in behind our house. There are currently 85 apple trees, 12 pear trees and 300 assorted maples, oaks, walnuts, chestnuts and birch plugging away, trying to get big. The apples and pears are fine - we ordered them and they are all about 4-6 feet tall. We started the walnuts and American Chestnuts from seed, and they are only about 12" tall and need lots of love. To protect everything from voles during the winter Ben went out and weed whipped the majority of the field. The little trees are so little they need to be weeded - by hand. I spent 3 hours yesterday crawling through the rows pulling out hands full of prickers, Russian thistle, golden rod, Queen Anne's lace and clover. Oof. What a way to get my exercise in! My hands sure are sore and don't EVEN ask my to kneel or bend over. The funny thing: I have spent another 2 1/2 hours today with the wheelbarrow gathering the pulled stuff and taking it to the compost pile, at the opposite corner of the acre. I know it'll be worth it, but when Ben asked if we should fence the rest of the 7 acres (about 5 more) for more trees, he was lucky he had the snips and I didn't. It has been a great time for me to think and ponder and all, and I certainly appreciate the weather cooperating for me!
Now that I'm nearly done outside and the hunters are surrounding the property looking for the big bucks, I'm planning on remaining indoors for the remainder of my fitness pursuits. My daughter is home from school today with a plugged up head and I just cannot listen to Max and Ruby any longer, so off I go.
Wear orange, be T-U-F-F tough and don't take Islandview Road unless you're in a car.

Not so much about training

2009-11-12T16:33:00.002-05:00

Last year I met a woman I took to immediately. We are nothing alike. She has 6 kids, smokes, has been married 3 times, likes white wine and is okay with her house not being finished. She's taller than I am, ridiculously skinny, does not ever exercise, hand stitches quilts she designs and is a hard core worker.
I met this friend about 2 years after my husband did. She and her husband have a nursery (the tree kind) and my husband has purchased trees from them and become good friends with Mike - the husband. Last summer the 2 of them, Mike and Karlene, spent 4straight weekends here at our house, tearing out the yard, installing irrigation, re-creating the yard, building a gorgeous rock retaining wall, planting trees, flowers, bushes and shrubs. Of course we were right there along side them, but it was more than I have ever had a non-family member do for me. We fed them lunches and dinners; they gave us all of the labor and the planting materials. I have never asked something of Karlene and had her even hesitate before saying, "Sure!" (She even got out of line at WalMart to get me a gallon of milk when I was sick.)
Today Karlene called and asked for my help. I think it was the first time she's done this. She was at a customer's house (she does her own landscaping and apring/fall clean-ups in gardens and yards) and her co-hort for leaf blowing was out with the flu. Could I help her for a few hours? Of course! So down I went, in my Orvis button down perma-press striped shirt, jeans and clogs, and blew leaves for 3 hours. We took one break and spoke only at that time, but Karlene is the sort of person who's company I just enjoy. I have to laugh every time she starts a sentence with, "You're like me..." because I am so not like her, but Karlene is one of thoses rare people who believes "friends" is spelled "we".
After my feel good morning of tracing shoes and making construction paper doors with 5 year olds and then blowing leaves with my friend, I stayed in town until it was time to get my daughter. No time for exercise, but my new shoes caome! Women's size 11 red Asics Kayanos. I am so pumped. This is funny: I ordered them through my brother's store. He called and told me they were in. Great! I went to get them. We chit-chatted for a little bit about training, my "Watch My Back" logo and how he and my other brother are horrible swimmers. I asked him then where the shoes were. He didn't know. I looked around, founf some other Asics that had come in +today (size 6...NOT mine) and that was all. I asked another employee at the store and she didn't know. She asked Josh. Still blank. Josh then looked at me and said, "Wait a minute. Did I just call you to tell you your shoes were here?" DUH!?! : ) Key point: Josh's wife is named Molly. Molly wears a women's 11. Molly is also a runner. Josh thought the 2 phone numbers on the sheet were both for the size 6 and that the other shoes were for his wife! Good chuckle over that one.
So remember: an innocent incorrect assumption does not make an ass out of anyone, red shoes make you run fast and a good friend is a commodity you should never, ever trade.

Change it up

2009-11-08T09:02:00.005-05:00

Hank is my buddy. He is 10 years old, getting white in the face, a ferocious apple hunter and my all time favorite running partner. Hank is fantastic with the kids, barks only when provoked and lives to eat. Hank is the best. But... he's 10, he's getting white in the face. He has another tumor on his rump. He's stiff after we run and he doesn't romp so much at top spped anymore. Hank is feeling his age, which feels sad in some ways but in even more makes me want to spend more and more time with him. We've been together for 9 3/4 years, through many trials and triumphs and he knows my moods better than any other live being.
That said, when it's time for Hank to go, I'll have it done. I think keeping animals alive because people aren't ready to say goodbye is very selfish, and I'm counting on all of you to remind me of that when I do not want to say goodbye to my Hank.
Yesterday I took my kids to my Mom's house and let them play in the tree fort while I went for a run in my old stomping grounds. I took Mom and Dad's dog Nell, who is about 11 or 12, deaf as a post and a crazy wild runner. Normally on a run Nell, a border collie, just goes. She'll be gone - out of sight - for most of the time, just bombing past about every 20 minutes to remind humans she's magical. Not yesterday. She was ON the trail - turning back about every 20'to make sure I was okay before continuing on. Comical to say the least.
Well, little did you know, I was missing just then for 2 hours. Our power went out, just as I was about to wrap this up and go to the basement for some jump around time. After discerning it was an issue at our transformer in the woods and not anywhere else, it boiled down to a fried bird in the main line by the road. Thank goodness it is a beautiful, sunny day! The kids were able to entertain eachother very nicely and I went outside and planted bulbs. Of course I then realized I had to wash my hands in the dogs' water, but whatever. Power's back on now, and I'm off and running!
Take pictures, make it last and watch kids' movies whenever you can.

Strange, strange things

2009-11-05T20:37:00.004-05:00

Do menthol cigarettes cause women to have manly upper-bodies and have a penchant for playingsoftball?
Can you really cut off a human toe with a cigar clipper?
Does anyone else get car sick from looking at an in-dash GPS thing?
Why does K-Mart use a blue light for its specials?
Will I save money if I just rub avacados on my hair?
Why does random hair grow more as we age?
Is that metoerologist's last name really Charlevoix?
Does Bart Stupak wear a tupee?
Why does Gully greet Hank like he doesn't know him when Hank enters the pen 2nd?
If my chickens eat their own eggs are they cannibals?
Why does my 5 year old eat more than most adults and only grow vertically?
Why does pink lipstick make my eyes look bigger?
Can an 8# block of mozzarella kill a person?
Does one shoe act as the designated "flip"per and the other the designated "flop"per? Ping and pong?
Will I ever stop snoring?
Will Bones and Booth ever hook up?
If I laugh to myself, out loud, when I'm running, am I nuts?
Does anyone else out there grunt while swimming?
Just some thoughts.
Tee hee hee.
Double knot, don't clench and have a good old time.

Ups and downs and rounds of the bend

2009-11-04T08:57:00.004-05:00

I do love fall. Yesterday's run was so beautiful! I listened to Neil Diamond, Kid Rock, Miranda Lambert, Prince, Cold Play, U2, Flo Rida. . . I love my ipod. The dogs were unable to locate the scent of the yound skunk Ben saw in the yard but did locate some scrumptious invisible things to roll in.
I got thinking on my run that I've become a facebook addict. Not a crack addict - it's very different. Being by myself all day has led me to seek out the company of others...on fb. So nice, so funny, so not anything remotely un-toward. Take one of my friends, for example, who posted she was having a rough day. About 12 people tuned right in with words of comfort and inspiration. Now these aren't random people - they are people I know or knew from some point in my life. Deegan throws things out there to stimulate inane conversation. Katrina writes about her granddaughter. Kathy writes about her son and Cynthia always has something thought provoking to say. I like it.
So I got on the scale again this morning and am down 12 pounds. LONG way to go, but hurray for me! I'm peeling off the bubble wrap that has protected my bikini body for so long. I've now done something to my arch, my middle toe and my large toe nail is still 1/2 way missing. None of these "ailments" hurts when I run, so bugger them. I'm doing it anyway. Getting out of bed is iffy, but I'm good.
I helped in my daughter's class the other day, and they were having "F" week. I colored fish pictures and played a fishing game with four - 5 year old boys. In mid game one of them farted. Of course they all giggled - and I said, "Yes, and fart starts with 'F' also." End of conversation. Phew.
It really is interesting to work with the little kids. Each one has his or her own speech pattern, expressions, tics... I know they are little people, but still, when you only know a few kids you get used to their habits and such; to be exposed to a whole new set is refreshing. Several of the kids in my daughter's class are children of my former school mates, which makes it even more fun!
Off I go to get the road bike I was supposed to get months ago. Be smart, be sassy, be funny and be loved. Ride with traffic and wear a helmet. I'll see you around the bend.

Morning light is back again!

2009-11-01T08:21:00.002-05:00

Yea! It's the end of daylight savings! I awoke at 5:00 feeling special because it was so early, then realized it was 6:00 "body time" and stayed awake just because. By 7:00 it was light enough to see the sky, and that means no more flashlight at the school bus stop for another month or so. Good times. I really do not take well to the short days, no matter how strong my meds!
The SHAPE bikini body work out has proven to be fun and a little addictive to my activity and interaction starved existence, and I'm much happier about my lot in life than I was even 2 days ago. I'm doing all of the cardio segments with flair and even some of the "advanced" moves with the weights - some of them are still, "are you kidding me?" moves, but I'll get there.
Yesterday my husband was working on a project in the basement and had the door open so it was blockong the hall. That in itself is not a problem - it isn't like to door is heavy. However, I discovered when I pulled it to open it 180 degrees instead of closing it that it is closer to the floor than I thought. I successfully (and quite painfully) removed 1/2 of the nail on my large toe with the bottom of the door. Of course I'm one of those people who swears when in pain, so I let a few go through clenched teeth...just enough that my daughter and husband both came running to see if I were okay. When they looked at my foot (sock but still graphic) they turned away, still offering help. No thank you. Took care of it all on my own, wrapped it up and got into my bitch boots for trick or treating. (They are knee-high black leather with heels.)
Off my daughter and I went to a great kids' party, followed by a few blocks of trick or treating in full costume. I bought a costume in a package and was informed I was a devil woman, so the fishnets and bitch boots worked in perfectly. We had a great time - until I took the boots off. I had no idea until then that the boots were actually helping my toe! OUCH!!! Blankets are heavy, changes in elevation treacherous, and never mind the clingy child! Walking around in shoes today, thank you very much. My question about being able to work out with the nasty toe has been answered, and once I get the child out of the shower (18 minutes now) I'll go down and do just that.
My mom, my sister and I are all essentially built the same. We're strong-like-bull and able to do whatever physical tasks we choose. I like that. I'm the tallest of the bunch and the thickest, and I look to the other 2 as examples of who and what I can be. Mom and Mandy are both quite slender and aware of what goes in. I need to be more like that. I (if either of you are reading this, don't shoot me) admire them both for their dedication to health and fitness in their lives and thank them for their example. They are good friends, besides just being family, and they are wonderful mothers. I do not tell them that enough. Enjoy the mornings, love yourself and when the prune state starts, get out.

Happy Hallow-wet!

2009-10-30T16:27:00.007-04:00

In all the time I've been watching Halloween parades in my little town, this is the first I remember that has been inside. Normally all of the kids, K-5 and the marching bands, are bussed down town and they really parade down Main Street. More people line the streets to see the kids than do for the Memorial Day parade - and I do not mean that to be a slight. Parents, grandparents, store owners - all out of the sidewalk to see every walk of life smile and wave from the anonymity that comes with a costume. It is raining, so today the parade was inside the school, but the kids hardly knew the difference.
My daughter decided to be a geisha this year - chosen from hundreds of costumes in a catalog. There was no face paint for the parade but we'll go all out tomorrow for the party and the main event - Trick-or-Treating.
I never liked Halloween. Candy, yes. Costumes, no. I had good ones in my late elementary years, like Paddington Bear, Captain Hook and a horse complete with hand-beaded bridle. My younger years I dressed the same as my friend Andrew - Tom (from Tom and Jerry), a rabbit, a few others I honestly can't remember. I think what I didn't like was riding around in the rear-facing seat of my aunt and uncles stationwagon, only going to houses of people we knew. Really? It's a super small town and now I know everyone up and down the streets. It was smaller then... I think my folks just didn't want us to get too much candy.
Also, it was always snowing. It's hard to be a princess with mittens, a ski hat and a down parka.
Anyway, I was invited to a costume party tonight, and, in my not so sexy state, went and got a costume that is not meant at all to be sexy or revealing. I then talked to a friend whose wife wanted him to drress as Hef and she in turn would go as a Bunny. I don't want to go to the party now. Am I really that sad? Yes. That's all it takes: one little comparison of myself to someone else and I'm out. This lady's really nice. I consider her a friend. But she's also older than I am and totally hot. No can do. I'm too dumpy and frumpy and self-conscious. Pathetic, really, how I do this to myself.
Ah, well. I'll go to the party tomorrow night that's for the kids and not care. Having my daughter with me creates a buffer so no one looks at me, and that's the way I like it.

Beauty in the north woods

2009-10-27T13:35:00.007-04:00

I'm sitting upstairs in the unfinished room of my house right now, which I use as an office when I"m not using the bedroom as an office. My feet are bare, the greys in my hair freshly hidden (sort of) and I'm basking in the sunshine we haven't seen for too long in these parts. Life feels right.
I have something to admit. I have not been running as much as I should have been. However, that said, I've learned not to dwell on the shoulda-coulda-wouldas in life but move on. Which I did today. I am shocked at the number of orange shirts I own! I have just about a different one for each day of the week, which is important now that I'm running on the road. I'm also shocked at how much of a hill I live on, though it is invisible to the naked eye. Getting home is a bitch!
Recently an old friend from my days at the National Outdoor Leadership School found me on facebook. She is awesome - was once a towtruck driver. The last I knew, which, granted was in 1999, she was engaged and in Kalamazoo with her fiance, who was in flight school. Well, now she's back out in Washington state (where we met) and talking about her running on facebook. 20 f-ing miles! Is this girl nuts??? Even the marathoners I know don't run that far unless they have to. I'm proud of my hilly 4-5, thank you very much. Don't get me wrong - I'm really impressed. But what do you do for that long? For me that's like 200 minutes IF I'm able to keep my snail pace and not lapse into asthmatic snail at any time. Woah.
Anyway, I went my 4 miles, all uphill, and had a very nice time. I think my toe is still broken, but oh well. It feels okay until I stop running, which is the same with every part of me, now that I mention it.
Last night I tried a new video - the SHAPE magazine bikini body workout. Hee hee hee. At least I don't have to do the video in a bikini! I'd be all over the place. It was a great workout and I was able to do the whole thing, though I confess I was sweating like a pig half way through. My daughter was demanding the 5 pound weights I was using and trying to give me the 8 pounders - not the first time out, kid. I need the feather weights for that. It's fun that she wants to participate, though, as long as she stays out of the way! I've bopped into her more than once.
My darling husband (the scrawny one) was insistent yesterday that I do something about my weight, so, HAH! I had green beans for dinner. Show him. He can never figure out why I'm so tired by 9:30 at night. I don't have the heart to tell him it's because when he leaves the bedroom to get 5th meal I reach into the side table and get out the Advil PM. My god I ache at night.
All in all, I think I'm really back on track this time. I've pouted enough, I have lots of pain killers, my toe be damned I'm at it again.

Splat, splat splat go the leaves.

2009-10-24T13:09:00.004-04:00

Baby it's cold outside! I've spent the last several days cooped up in the house with my overly rambunctious and ultra-clingy daughter so today I finally got in a run. Brrrrr. I need to get re-used to the cold! My bright red hat and new mittens kept my important parts warm, thanks to my favorite store The Outfitter, and the rest of me sweated enough to do okay. (They also sell Bridgedale, my sock of choice, Asics, my shoe; Smartwool, my warmy top and Saucony for the rest of what is bare.)

I ran on the road for this one, given that it is getting closer to rifle season and the guys from the "Islandview Hunt 'n Grunt Camp", where I usually run, have been driving in and out of the property a lot. The Township Cemetery is just down the road from my house, and I took a turn through there instead. It is really small but beautifully maintained and a real lesson in who was who out here in the country. Many of the families are still large and in charge.

The cemetery jaunt reminded me of a time in college when my genius roommate, her best friend and I decided to play flashlight tag in a cemetery in Kalamazoo on Devil's Night. What a bone head thing to do. I think we all wet ourselves (though we went to a frat party afterward and no one noticed) AND we lost the car keys. We stole a basketball to make up for it but my roommates parents didn't see the relevance.

When I was in Middle School I spent the night at a friend's house for the express purpose of sneaking out and meeting a boy. I know, I'm sure I'm not the first. It was an amazing night for little naive me; I remember what song was on his digital clock radio when we knocked on the window. I remember what I was wearing. I do not remember walking home... but I think I floated so it doesn't matter. The point is, this boy, who was an older boy, blew my world apart. For years, literally, every time I saw him I got weak in the knees and all woozy. He was such an ass, really, but also a jock, a flirt, a funny man. He had a perm and acid wash jeans. Oh, and he was older. Very hard to resist. The issues went on all through high school and college, though I rarely saw him after high school. Over the years, however, living and working in the same town, the thrill has left. He's just a guy I knew in high school. We refer work back and forth and wave on the road.

I got up at 6:30 this morning, took the dogs for a walk and cleaned their dog house, fed the boiler, showered, cleaned the kitchen, made pancakes and bacon for the family, cleaned the kitchen again, made dinner plans with my inlaws and was letting the tractor warm up to get firewood when I talked to the aforementioned older boy. It was 9:30 and he was still in bed, drunk. It re-enforced in me my desire to overcome what is left of my food addiction and get out there and be healthy. In my day I was the first to crack a beer and the last to leave the party, but I have a family, kids and my health to think about. I love ya, older boy, but I'm also glad I made the choices I did.

STOP TOUCHING ME!

2009-10-21T18:11:00.002-04:00

I'm feeling a little silly. Last time I was here I was writing about how my daughter is the love of my life, etc, etc. Well she still is, but now she's feeling better, it's raining and SCHOOL IS CLOSED for 3 days because so many kids are sick.

Me: "Why are you shaking me?" A: "I'm giving you a massage." Me: " Yes, I love you too but I'm in the bathroom. Give me a kiss later." A: "But Mom, I might forget." Me: "Honey, you know how you don't always like to be touched? Well, I'm feeling that way right now." A: "It's okay Mom. You'll get used to it." This is just the last 3 minutes.

Holy cow. How did I do this all summer?????

It is 6:30 and I'm in my jammies. I went to the basement and had a good workout today. I ignored the phone, had Olivia on for Ainsley to watch and just did it. Lunge to balance, reverse snow angels, single leg thingys and all the rest. Then she found me. "MOM! What'r you doing?Are you working out?Do you like it?Can I watch?I'm hungry." Which leads to why I'm in my jammies.

I finally gave up and went outside to feed the dogs and take out the trash. Well, we're out of firewood. So I grabbed the wheelbarrow and headed for the other side of the property, about 300 yards away, and started hauling loads. I knew Ainsley would stay inside, and, low and behold, she did. Ahhhhhhh.

Now we're back into it. Afterall, I was out of her sight for 20 minutes.

For all of you parents and special adults out there, here's to you. It's hard to do this exercise/motivation thing at all, but involve a restless child and 382 trees to log and catalog and boy oh boy is it a real workout. Hope for dry weather tomorrow, and hope all those little munchkins get well.

With a little help from my friends

2009-10-19T09:10:00.004-04:00

An old friend of mine sent me a clip from a Detroit area paper about a woman training for the Free Press marathon. The woman has lost 100 pounds since 2007. The headline reads, "The 26-Mile Challenge" and under that..., "Woman's weight drops during training, but doubts hang heavy". Amen. It is a real-life story about a real-live woman struggling to achieve what was once an unattainable goal. She rules. The clip is now taped up over the Sid the Science Kid dot-to-dot my daughter completed; it's in plain view at all times and shall serve to be inspiring to me. Thanks, D.
As for me, well, I got on the scale this morning in jeans and a sweatshirt after having consumed 3 cups of coffee and got off in disgust before it even settled on a number. Yuck. I need to get serious. I graze when I'm on the computer or reading, and, being that I work alone from my house, there's no one here to monitor me. Bad news. I have to read my little sticky from my friend to remind me I will do this: "Thought of you when I read this! I have faith you can do your tri!" KEEP THE FAITH LADY!!!!! Share it, spread it, send it my way. This old bod ain't gonna make it the way it is, so there's a lot of motivation to find. I'm off to the basement for squat jumps to see if that's where my motivation is. Be well, be smart, be funny, be complete.

Why am I doing this?

2009-10-18T17:28:00.002-04:00

It's time to get real. I need to buckle down. My husband asked me yesterday if we're really going to get healthy. (Scrawny as he is, he barely eats all day and then chows at night - dinner then another dinner right before bed then another dinner IN bed. I sleep through it or I'd complain.)

A dear friend of ours just lost his father, age 59. The ultimate cause was leukemia and kidney failure, but truth be told in his case 2 knee replacements were needed largely due to his weight and abuse from that on the joints. When the fake joints got infected they could not be treated because of the leukemia. If I end up with fake knees I want it to be because I just need them, not because I'm too heavy for the originals to carry.

I worked out with the Slavic women in my basement today and then beat the crap out of Mr. Everlast, after lifting for a while and jumping rope 300 times. (Never EVER jump rope with anything but a completely empty bladder, especially if you've had a child.) The heavy bag is "fun" because I have pink boxing gloves and feel like such a stud when a beat on it. I have the DVD and former boxer-dude husband to coach me, so I don't really just beat on it, but if the imagery is right, why not?

After that I hung out with my daughter and made blueberry pancakes. My daughter is the love of my life and really the reason for all of this. I do not want her to lose me the way our friend lost his dad. Imagine my discomfort when I realized her temp, which I've been watching because of her nasty cough, went from 97.3 this morning to 102.9 by 1:00. Yes, another Sunday trip to the ER. She was tested for N1H1 and though it was negative, the doc said it's likely that's what she has; a lot of kids test negative the first day and positive when they return again later. The gov't isn't spending money to design a test specifically for N1H1 so it's a standard nasal swab flu test and then-in lies another difference. So, yes, the love of my life has swine flu and there's nothing I can do other than feed her tylenol/motrin/popsicles and love her as much as she'll let me. Poor little booger.

Given that, I'll be needing to get the heck out of the house badly here in the next few days, so I hope the hubby gets home before dark because lord knows I can't run then, being the big old fraidy cat that I am. I might have to bite the bullet and take another college course so I can use the gym at NCMC! Stay healthy...

For the life of me

2009-10-16T10:32:00.004-04:00

I'm scared of the dark. Last night my run got a little dark on the woodsy section and I had to go really fast to get out of the woods but then felt like I was running for a reason and got freaked out more. The dogs were off eating apples and were of absolutely zero help.

When I was little my brother used to hide under the basement stairs and grab my ankle as I walked down. Not a good thing. I'm still scared of the basement at me folks' house and it isn't even scary: cinderblock with a poured floor. No dirt floor, stone walls, creepy stuff. There is an old wood boiler we used to have to feed and that was waaaaaay bad during the Nightmare on Elm Street yers.
Despite all of the creeped-out times I have (imagination is a powerful thing), running calms me. It is really the only time I just let go and take things as they come, whether they are thoughts or feelings or branches, animals or hills. I like to watch the ground as I run, both to make sure I'm safe and to see what other creatures have crossed the same path since the last run. Last night I saw coyote, deer, raccoon and badger tracks. Bird tracks are preserved in the mud until the next rain. Of course, looking down last night led to nearly toppling into 2 deer on the trail. (I'm so light-footed they must not have felt me coming.) They even startled the dogs into chasing them for about 2 leaps. (The last time the dogs chased anything it was a rabbit that startled them on the trail about 6 years ago. They promptly grabbed it, snapped its neck, dropped it and ran away.)
I like to see how the woods chage daily. Plants come and go, mushrooms take over. Spring smells of leeks, fall of damp and decay. Trees break and fall, branches create new running routes. Animals make trails and mark them so subtly. (How can Hank hold it ALL night but pee 45 times in 4 miles??) I sing songs, chant mantras, laugh and grunt a lot. It's private time right out there in the open.
My husband asked me last night if I"m really going to do this triathalon. Yes. I have times when it's hard to train. I don't like eating well. I don't like getting up early and running in the dark. I have to find motivation to swim and bike. But I am committed to doing this. It's out there. It's coming. I will do it and I will do my best. 9 months and 1 day. That's 4 days longer than I carried my daughter. I can do it. I will do it. Join me?

2009-10-14T08:20:00.003-04:00

Ooooooh. I've been missing for a while. I think I broke one of my toes - the middle one on my left foot. Maybe it's not broken, but it snaps and tingles when I walk. It's almost like a cell phone vibration but with a bit of discomfort. I went running last night anyway.
I need some good cold-weather running ideas. I have the body stuff but my hands get cold and my ears get so cold they hurt. Problem: I freak out when I get too hot. Ever have a hot-foot attack where you just cannot get you shoes and socks off fast enough? It bites.
My shirts are done. "Watch My Back". It has that arrogant ring to it but for anyone who knows me its clearly sarcastic. I'm slow, I'm old, I'm chubby. There will be no back watching. That's the point.
On my run last night I realized I only have 1 month left to run in the woods. Sort of blue about that. They are so pretty and majestic; they're also surrounding a 120 acre hunting camp. I push my luck now running out there, but as I've mentioned I do not have the fear of bow hunters that I do of rifle hunters. I still wear orange and take the dogs. If we get shot it'll be because someone's pissed we're there NOT because they've mistaken us for deer.
I used to belong to a gym in Burlington, WA called 24 hour Fitness. They were open from 5am to 11pm. They were something else before 24 hour bought them. Best thing: I walked in for my intro session and there were large people in sweats working out. 2nd best: affordable, like $18/month unlimited. I want to open a Bally's or something in town. Is there a demand?? I enjoy going to a gym to work out but just cannot afford it. Local gyms are not out of line with charges; I just do not have any $$!! Bally's seems promising...
I'm gearing up for cross country skiing this year. I need new boots but that can be arranged. My folks have the groomers for the best local trails right at there house so it's literally ski off the deck. The trails follow a lot of the same trails I grew up exploring and it is always a trip to the past to ski them: up the hill, past the bob-sled run. Watch out for Meghan the barking dog (I'm sure she died at least 15 years ago). Go slow around the big corner, take the cut through to the Meadow. I would have gotten married in that meadow if I actually wanted to share it with that many people. Down Ravine to Ridge, relaxing all the way. Back through the pines (which are VERY spooky to a little girl who has "Hungry Like the Wolf" stuck in her head), across the tennis court and past the mountain and home again home again jiggity jig. Ahhh. I can feel it now.
Until then, keep you feet on the ground and keep reaching for the stars.

2009-10-01T16:41:00.002-04:00

Today my mom offered me her road bike. What a lady. I'm the only one in the family without a bike, by the by. I do have the one I train on, but that's still up at the cabin...
Mom, if you don't want mad props, stop reading now.
When I was little I hear I sort of got lost in the shuffle - in the best possible way. My brother was 28 months old and my sister 14 months when I came along to spoil the fun. (Sorry Will, this is about the early years.) I hear I was an easy child, in fact, almost simple to my ears.
My folks raised us on a 4o acre piece just outside of the booming metropolis of Harbor Springs, Michigan. We were a close little gaggle of kids, with cousins and friends thrown in, and we were given the greatest gift ever given: the freedom to roam the great outdoors.
Mom taught us early which paths went where and how to find our ways home. We roamed and climbed and rolled and tumbled and dug all over that land. It was the best. My brother Josh and I caught snakes and toads and put them in Adidas shoe boxes. My sister Mandy and I pulled the legs off of daddy-long-legs just for fun. We went sledding in the winter off the roof of the old cabin my dad and grandfather built and in the summer got so dirty it was hard to tell who we were. I kept salamanders in a coffee can in my bedroom and a gopher in a tennis sock. What a life.
The best part of the whole thing for me was just 10 yards from the back door: my Magic Tree. Now, this was clearly no ordinary tree. It was a choke-cherry tree about 70 feet tall with 7 trunks all stemming from the same area with a big, flat space in the middle for me. Sap oozed from holes all around and I used to gather it in clumps and save it on an old stump. My Magic Tree was, in turns, fenced, boarded in, open, hidden, invisible. It was a space ship, a boat, a castle, a cave. When my friends Matt and Andrew were over and we raked paths all through the woods connecting our favorite spots, my Magic Tree was a gas station. That tree was always exactly what I needed it to be. It was my playmate and my refuge.
When Mom and Dad built a garage many years after I fell in love with my tree, the new circle drive ran right over part of the root system of my Magic Tree. Later on one or 2 of the trunks had to be removed for safety. I couldn't watch.
Mom just told me yesterday about walking a 120 acre parcel for 2 full weekends looking for a "new" Magic Tree and not finding one - we ended up not moving there.
People say yesterday is the past, tomorrow is the future, today is a gift and that's why it's called the present. I agree, but love your past. Let yourself be a product of it. Know the good times and, as a parent, provide them for your children. Shake snowy branches as your kids walk underneath. Look for worms. Hatch a butterfly from a cocoon. Get dirty, act silly and love so fully it hurts. That's what I learned from my mom.
Hugs and pats to you, Ma -
Love, Grub.

Ahhhhhh

2009-09-30T09:53:00.005-04:00

Nice run. Not too much up and down this time, but enough movement to get the endorphins cranked up and make me see the world a little differently than milk dud trees and cotton candy clouds.
Have you seen the Weight Watchers commercials with the orange fuzzy hunger monster? He's real. Just so you know.
I was thinking this time about unemployment. My dear ol' dad, the nicest man in the world, had to lay me off in May. I had 2 additional bosses who had already cut me in January. That means I've been collecting unemployment for 35 weeks. I send out 3 resumes per week, if not more, which means I have sent out at least 105 resumes. I have held jobs in a variety of fields, from recreation to food service to real estate and I have gotten exactly 9 calls/replies to my applications. I used to take it personally. Now I just take it. It isn't personal. I've applied to clean hotel rooms, supervise lunch rooms, sell advertising, answer phones, maintain databases, work patient accounts, groom dogs, stuff mailboxes, fix meals in retirement homes, deal blackjack, teach special ed, sell insurance. The Tribe does not EVER call back because, on the application, I have to check the box that reads, "No Tribal Affiliation." I keep trying. The calls I have gotten, I have to admit, have been for positions that I cannot afford to take. I receive full unemployment benefits; I cannot afford a job that pays $9/hour and I have to drive 25 miles to and from in a truck. Isn't that sad?
I'm not an un-skilled person. I'm not an overly-skilled person. There just are that few jobs.
I started going through the Michigan Works "No Worker Left Behind" program. Know what I found out? I will be the last in line to get funding (or the first one cut, depending on optimism/pessimism) for re-training education because I have a BA. Now, I have a lot of friends who have never attended college who rightly should have the first shot - I do not think I'm that important - but really? Because my folks worked their buns off to allow me to go the college the state says I don't count? Hmph.
So, as the world turns, I keep sending out resumes. I do have a nice one: simple, a little color, short but thorough. I have lots of little hidden talents and will continue to peddle them on the northern portion of Emmet County. Until then, I'll be home, thinking of you.

Coasting along on a hope and a dream

2009-09-30T08:42:00.003-04:00

I had 2 really bad things happen last night. First: I reached into the linen cabinet to get a towel for my daughter and found a box of milk duds. Gross. I'm like an alcoholic hiding bottles. Nasty. I pitched them but not before I was thoroughly discouraged. Second: As I peeled off my clothes to get into my jammies my husband said, "Would you get the light?" Yikes. Maybe he doesn't still think I'm sexy. Not too subtle, though when I started to leak a tear he was horrified I thought that's what he meant.
Needless to say, the last couple of weeks have been particularly challenging. I clearly have a weather-influenced mood system, and right now it's blue, grey and black. I'm realizing also it had been quite different for me with Ainsley at school all day; now I'm not home working and the kids are here - now I'm just home working. I'm feeling blah and blech and like not doing a damn thing.
With that being said, I am sitting here in my running clothes waiting for the phone to stop ringing and trying to decide if I'm going on the road or in the woods. Bow hunting season starts tomorrow and I don't really like to chase the deer out of the woods (there are SOOOOO many). I do not worry about getting shot during bow season so do not worry about me using that for an excuse.
Off I go, out into the wild blue yonder, to giggle and shake my way as far from home as I can, then turn around and do the same thing back. Do it for the girl in the mirror.

Just a small time-out

2009-09-29T10:40:00.002-04:00

I woke up this morning and decided that I need to sleep with ear muffs on so my motivation does not leak out while I sleep. I started this damn thing, now I need to finish it.
Champion has sports bras on sale for $19.99. Really? Do they do anything? I'm used to paying closer to $40 to keep these things under control.
An old colleague asked me last week, after looking me up and down, if I'd lost any weight doing this training. I sdia not a lot but enough and that my body is changing shape. I am a shape shifter. Not really, but it's fun to pretend. But really, is weight what it's about? Or is it health and self esteem? For me, I have to confess, it is mostly self-esteem. I've k=joked about my 5 year old saying they make underwear my size, "because even chubby people need underwear." Well, it's true. AND, she says I'm chubbt because I do. The little darling loves me as me, no matter what, but I have taught her I have a problem.
My mother-in-law made a comment about my daughter weighing a lot last weekend. It is true- she is a heavy child - the comment was ot at all incorrect or meant to be nasty. I immediately told my mother-in-law that we do not reference the child's weight. I am so fearful she will grow up to be like me and have it be a major focus of her life. The kid is perfectly proportioned - she's TALL and heavy - but it's all tightly compacted muscle. When I can't carry her for 2 miles I tell her it's because I'm not strong nough. True - just a different spin. (The kid does weigh over 60 pounds, BTW.)
SO, as the weather turns it's off to the basement for me until I get a pool pass. I'm looking for a gently used road bike (donations welcome) in roughly my size (5'9). I'm looking for a gym pass, a clothing sponsor and a new ankle. No, just kidding.
I'm just looking for my motivation. And while I'm out there looking I'm going to throw the cookies I got into the fire. And the caramels. WTF? Self control. 5K run this weekend. Love thine own self. Be empowered.
Watch My Back.

Ain't nothin a little sunshine can't cure!

2009-09-24T11:17:00.002-04:00

Well, after a fine night of sleep in this lovely indian summer, the world is a whole new place. Jake is making shirts for me (just a couple, so please still pick the logo you like best) and my inspiration has returned. Maybe it was the wolf whistle I got on Main Street this morning. I'm sure it was one of my brothers but i didn't turn around and ruin it for myself. Last time I did that was in high school and it WAS one of my brothers - he said, "Oh, it's you." Creep.
My knees and hips have been aching (weird tissue disorder I have) so I took a couple of Advil PM last night. Ohhlala! Even Ainsley woke up happy, and that just doesn't happen.
I need to get to the cabin soon. My bike is there. I think I'll run, but alas, it's all on the main road. It's not a matter of being seen running at this point, mind you, it's a matter of NOT being seen by the big loud truck with the short little driver going 80. It's also about 4 miles on pavement. Puss, I know.
Here's the thing I discovered about running on the road. It sucks. There's nothing to see! Houses seem 800 miles apart when you're on foot - they pass so fast in a car. Road running seems so painfully slow to me, and it may be that I'm a painfullt slow runner. I like the woods where there are obstacles - small ones like sticks and rocks - and attention is constantly in demand. I think that's my major hold-up. I'll do it anyway, but first I have some other things to attend to. I'd love to say I'm getting ready for a hot date in the middle of the day, but my hubby's in a tree and I'm just not that kind of girl.
Fall rocks. Morning dew, rubber shoes, the northern Michigan high step to keep the feet as dry as possible. Orion over the neighbor's field at night and the other neighbor's field in the morning. The doves are eating the left-over unpicked corn, the tomatoes are late but there. Acron squash will be ready soon and there's still plenty of lettuce. Apples are ripening and pumkins are too. Ahhh.
I'm feeling proud of myself today and proud of my house. With all of the landscaping it's a great place to pull into at the end of the drive to get here. I have about 75 bulbe to go plant and I'll be all set for spring. I do plan on being fit as a fiddle by then, by the way.
While I was out with the dogs this morning, walking because it's too dark to run at 6:00, I was doing belly crunches. I made it to 150 before I thought I'd puke, then I did 150 more. The ladies on Core Rhythms are proud of me - they tell me every time I visit them down in my basement. It feels so good to just care. Again, the door's open for anyone who'd like to join me - or if you'd like to be a charter member of my "Watch My Back" Tri-Training team!

Calling my Ladies

2009-09-23T20:44:00.002-04:00

It's time! I've put my initial 3 logo choices on this page. Please let me know which one you like best!
I really want input - if enough people like these choices I'm having shirts made. . .
This is just a shorty. My faith in myself and the world at large has been restored. Booya for me.
Better training ahead!

Does it always take this long?

2009-09-23T09:18:00.002-04:00

I found myself yesterday feeling really crappy about this whole thing. It may have been the 3 pieces of leftover pizza I had for lunch. It may have been the disgusting bloated feeling that comes after all the water ingested to get the salty taste to go away after eating 3 pieces of leftover pizza for lunch. It may have been seeing people in town and feeling like they were looking thinking, "SHE's not training for a Tri. Look at her!" It may have been my husband asking if I lost weight last week and not accepting, "enough" as an answer for how much. Did I forget to take my meds or what??
I used to envy moms who were able to stay home with thier kids. I became one of those moms last summer and I liked it. It's hard to work for the family business and be home with the kids - I'd rather just go to the beach - but it was nice. However, I now find I'm listening to CSI:NY to have a little not-so-lonely feeling while the kidlets are not here. Each morning when I wake Ainsley up for school and she insists she cannot go because her hair hurts or some other such nonsense, I am sorely tempted to keep her home. I do not have the patience for home-schooling or for a stay at home child, so what am I thinking?
Back on tri-track a little. . .
I have decided that no matter what a beast I am as far as being in shape for this Tri, I am still chubby to a fault. Ainsley reminded me of that last night while I was unwrapping a baby Snicker bar. I gave it to her in a rush of guilt. I need to lose weight. How to do this? Hydroxy Trim? Caffeine. NutriSystem? Nasty. Jenny Craig? Have I mentioned I'm unemployed?
This leaves the old stand by: Weight Watchers. I love WW. My grandmother did WW at age 90 just because she liked it. There are so many delicious things that can be done if only in moderation. That's my problem. Moderation. I drive fast. I eat lots. I cry hard. I yell loud. I sleep as soon as my butt hits the bed. I love fully. There is some block though when it comes to exercise.
Last night I grilled chicken breasts with a little teryaki and had mine all cut up on egg noodles with sauteed onions and mushrooms and a little balsamic vinegar. Mmmmmmm. Just right, and not too many points. In the mean time, Ainsley ate left-over spaghetti, 2 bananas, a peach, a can of soup, many many Pringles, a carameled apple and then chicken/noodles/mushrooms. If only, if only. Ben, my husband, is skinny. He constantly complains about his "side pudge". I want to knock him upside the head each time he does. He's always been skinny and has no concept of the trials of weight loss. He is extremely scientific and believes it is as simple as figuring out how much x-y/z+pdq is it will just magically happen. Weight Watchers. Support from other struggling people who get it. I love my skinny friends and their support, but it's nice to know other people have difficulties with this too.

It helps to have a purpose

2009-09-21T15:33:00.003-04:00

I finally came up with a slogan/logo for my tri-als. I cannot tell you now, for I have not had it printed yet. But you'll love it!
My family was invited to the neighbors' for a cook out yesterday. I decided to run there, being that it is about 3 miles away. (We live in the country, remember. 3 miles still = neighbor.) I was not made to run on the road! I was so anxious I started too fast and was releived to see another neighbor out gathering her clothes off the line. I stopped to talk. Oops - there go Ben and Ainsley and they didn't see me - better hurry or they'll think I'm dead in the ditch or hauled up a tree by a cougar or under a blackberry bush with a bear.
Back on the road - trying to hurry and breathe right all at the same time. Not so hot. I need to calm down!
However, more deep thoughts were joslted out of my brain.
Running in a baseball cap is worse than running with sunglasses.
One must not drink too much prior to running on a main county road.
Does that clinical strength deodorant really work? How do they know who stinks most?
Why is it that the hair at my neck gets so sweaty even when my hair is up?
Is getting hit by a car from the front really better than getting hit from behind?
Why do I have one head phone that fits better than the other?
And, at last, if I cannot hear myself pant over my music am I really panting?

I am the Princess and the Pea of running socks. Any small poke or rub and I have to stop and fix it. May even be invisible, but by golly I'll feel it. My dogs will run with me and get totally covered with stick tights and burrs and not care, but one little bugger in my shirt tail or sock and I screech to a halt to fix it. Not too accepting of the small little tics, I guess.

Back to my cleaning frenzy. I start to pant just thinking about it. My house is getting quite clean and organized and I'm about to move my bike back to the trainer so if I decide to get angry and hyperventalate while I'm riding at least I'll be at home - if I tip over I won't get hit by a car. My kids hang out in the basement with me a lot of times when I ride, and I'm sure Ainsley will save me (if she turns away from Fraggle Rock long enough to notice I'm lying on the floor gasping for air.) I better train with my helmet if I plan on doing it while I'm angry.
I've been stacking firewood as an extra-curricular training activity. Green wood is heavy. And certain types stink. Who'd have thought that fresh cut oak smells like puke? Sort of takes the glory out of it. But we'll be warm this winter and boy-o is my back strong.
Off to amoeba soccer with the 5 year old. Thanks to you all for staying in touch.

Tri-ing to manage that angry feeling

2009-09-17T08:45:00.003-04:00

My younger brother Will is a heck of an athlete. From the time Will was young he has been able to pick up any sport he's chosen (except those requiring eye hand coordination) and run with it. Soccer, skiing, biking, running, you name it. And he trains. That's where he comes into this story.
But let's back up.
I have a good life. My family is healthy (physically). We have a great home. We love eachother and have fun together. My every-day worries are things like money, lost puppies, lawn mower running out of gas, you know - little things.
Last year my little world was hit with a meteor of a blow that I will not detail but let's say it has not been pleasant. There have been dozens of sleepless nights, conversations begun and ignored and avoided, friends who are no longer and lots of gray hairs and stress lines. (Family is still good and strong - don't you worry.)
This is where Will comes in. He has suggested training harder when this situation becomes too ugly. Wow! remarkably simple idea. I tried it.
Not so hot. I was so angry and emotional I nearly hyperventilated! Didn't matter which thing I tried - bike, run, swim - I just couldn't breathe. Not only that, I've discovered from more and more swim training that I cannot breathert to the left. Great.
So, Will, thanks a ton for the tip and the advice. I have been dropping and doing push-ups when that bitter bile starts to rise, but I just cannot be more active. Weird. I'll have to rely on my old stand-by anger-reliever. . . cleaning the house.
Love you lots -

2009-09-16T08:39:00.001-04:00

After all of this time I’m still here.
I rode my bike to the cabin last weekend – down Islandview to Shore Drive and up to Chippewa. Islandview Road is uphill both directions. Try it – you’ll see.
The biking part was enjoyable. I know it’s only 7 of the 19 miles I’ll have to ride for the Tri, but there’s time. I ride in the basement all winter – not in circles but on a trainer. I have a tv and dvd player and watch action movies. I ride faster that way. I tried listening to books on tape but they’re just not that exciting.
I hauled my large jiggly a$$ 5.37 miles today!! Up, over, through, under, around – you name the preposition and I was there. Mud, downed trees, burrs, stick tights, raspberries, horse piles (still hoping they are from horses not something less domestic). I don’t think the Tri route through Weque is quite as hazardous.
At mile 2.76 I landed wrong and now my delicate little ankle is the size of a cantaloupe. No matter how self deprecating I pretend to be I do like my ankles. I was somewhere near turning around so I kept going and then gimped it back home. It’s amazing how pride and adrenaline override pain when you need them to.

Notes to self:
Coffee before running = wahoo!
Too much coffee before running = maple leaves.
Charmin is preferable to maple leaves when running.

Being that I ran farther today than ever before, I explored some un-run territory. I also scared the crap out of myself by imagining there were bears and cougars stalking me. Okay, so bears don’t stalk. You know what I mean. Good old Hank got his running legs back, and he and Gully were both with me…I’m certain they would have noticed something as large as a bear or cougar. They ignore all other forms of wildlife and much prefer to sniff invisible things and roll on invisible scents than exert any energy actually chasing anything. There was a deer about 15’ from the trail that froze when we approached. The dogs didn’t even notice it. Labs – yes – both of them. Bright as an unlit match.

I’m going to try to learn how to “blog” (god I sound OLD) so I can keep up with this better, and I hope you follow me there. Thanks -

2009-09-16T08:38:00.003-04:00

Mother walrus, mother walrus
How did you get here?
In the shower just 10 minutes
And POOF you appear.
Maybe it’s the mirror steam.
No it cannot be.
The mother walrus that I see. . .
Wait – is it me?
Walri don’t wear bathing suits;
I have nice tan lines.
Walri don’t wear jewelry
And I clearly see mine.
Again where did she come from?
And how’d she get here so fast?
Did someone come and switch my mirror
For a slab of glass?
Mother walrus, mother walrus
You need to go away.
I have to get you off of me
You cannot be here to stay.
My husband, he might see you
My kids will be afraid.
Mother walrus, mother walrus,
WILL SOMEONE GET ME A TOWEL?

2009-09-16T08:38:00.001-04:00

I haven’t given up. No, no, no. I’m still out there plugging away. I have to say though, I’m really pissy about the wet feet thing. Any ideas?
I should clarify. I do not like to run on the road. Why? It’s not that the surface is hard, uneven and I get shin splints. It’s that someone I know might see me. I bounce. I jiggle. I sway. I’m a great big Jell-O delight in Asics. My Ninja Skills t-shirt is bright pink and quite tight. Deer are color blind. Hopefully most drivers are not.
When I do run on the road I do not meet the eyes of drivers. You may pass me someday, blurping along down the road, but I will not wave. I will not look. I will close my mouth, pretend I’m so awesome I’m still breathing through my nose and look at the ground. Don’t take it personally. It’s a self-image thing.
SO, I run in the woods, in the fields and anywhere else I can rack up my pushing 4 miles and try to keep my feet dry. I have found a route that almost lets me do that, but there’s a 25’ section of long field grass that blows the entire tamale. I have to learn to be more accepting and a little less OCD.
Speaking of OCD, I used to smoke. I’d go back to my car no fewer than 5 times after I parked to make sure a cigarette butt I threw out the window (I know. . . ) didn’t some how come back in and catch the whole car on fire. Good thing I don’t do THAT anymore.
This morning I discovered I’m getting old. When I was younger and hiking the Cascade Mountains with my trusty dog Hank I used to have that awesome fantasy where I’d meet a tall-dark-handsome stranger and we’d fall madly in whatever and blah blah blah. Now the fantasy is similar, though the stranger can look like whatever he wants s long as he’s slower than I am and rich, so I can conk him on the head, take his treasure and run. I do not know if that is age or practicality kicking in, but it keeps me going.
I haven’t started riding my bike again yet. I’m ok at that but have never liked going very far. I learned when I was rather young that just because my folks lived at the bottom of the Ridge Road Hill didn’t mean it was a flat ride to their house. It was all up hill – that gradual up hill that makes you feel like you’ll never, ever arrive. And it was sandy. Such a bear to ride up. There was always a head wind on the way home from town or school, too. And it often times rained. Golly I have such great memories of biking!
Don’t worry – I’m not giving up. I have told too many people I’m doing this to back out. Besides, though a certain someone told me I should buy the Bun and Thigh Roller at a garage sale last weekend, I am toning up, firming up and feeling better. I still have my ab muscles well padded and my buns of steel are still in molten form, but I’ll get there.
Thanks for your support, and if anyone wants to go for a jiggle with me holler!!

2009-09-16T08:37:00.003-04:00

7-25-09
Well, today was endurance training. The kids and I hauled brush for 5 hours to the chipper, under the supreme command of my husband the Marine. What fun. It was all dead spruce and pine limbs so the fun factor was elevated. But now we have a nice clear, flat area for our picnic table.
There’s something about hauling pokey, sticky, flesh biting branches 500’ through the woods that really does a number on the psyche. It starts out ok. Then more limbs are removed. Then more. It goes until the path to the chipper looks longer and longer and finally it seems really dumb that this may have been good exercise and that’s why the chipper didn’t get moved closer.
As I said, endurance. And patience. And repetition.

7-26-09
I ran 3.42 miles today. Lots of time to think, being that I’m a slow runner. I’ve come to the conclusion that swimming will be the hardest event for me – not because I’ll struggle physically. . .
When I was little and Lake Michigan was still deep, I took swimming lessons at the City Beach. There were 2 rafts, then and the Big Raft had a high dive. Swimming lessons started at 8:00 am on about June 10. It was either swim and generate circulation or stand there and die from hypothermia. The guards taught largely from the relative warmth of shore. Helen Salan was always there with an extra towel and knee for me to wrap up in and sit on until Mom arrived.
Great, but where’s the drama?. The Big Raft.
I was a good little swimmer. The Big Raft was out far enough that even the really tall people had to swim. It was out far enough that there was seaweed. And suckers. And it floated on sketchy looking barrels. And it was REE-ally dark underneath. I cannot even describe the feeling of utter terror upon having a sprig of seaweed touch my leg or arm. The panic factor, trying to scramble up the ladder, having to wait for the people in front of me, treading water over the suckers. I breathe faster even now 30 years later.
I went for a swim with a friend of mine in Lake 16, an old logging lake in Conway, Washington, where I lived for 5 years. The water is full of tannins and impossible to see into more than ½” from the surface. There are downed logs and tops all over. Needless to say, I lasted about 2 minutes. There is an annual swim across Lake 16 and there was NO WAY I could participate.
Given all of that, I was a lifeguard. Sure there’s no seaweed in pools, but did you read “The Mystery of the Fat Cat” in Mrs. Koontz’s 3rd grade class? Well, I did and a rat swam out of the drain in the deep end.
I’m SOL for the swimming section.

2009-09-16T08:37:00.001-04:00

When I lived in Washington State in 1994 I got quite, ah, large. Here’s a little thing I wrote for Ma for Mother’s Day to mark that time in my life forever:

To my mom, whom I love the best
And who gave me my fair share of chest. . .

Just the other day I had my wits tested.
I looked in the mirror and I as double breasted!
After seven long years of being a “C”
I awoke one day and had sprouted a “D”.
Ok, let’s see, let’s go from the start
The only thing that’ll fit is a Cross-Your-Heart.
Certainly no famous designer of lingerie
Makes anything larger than a double-“A”.
Once you finally find a bra that’ll support your chest
You feel as though you look your best. All on the street seem to stop and stare –
How do things that big stay up in the air?
Once you’re a “D” everyone’s a looker.
They can tell at a glance that you’re a triple hooker.
THEN there’s the matter of being athletic –
Your damn sports bra looks like a prosthetic!
What? You want me to RUN? I say “Oh, please.”
I’ll bruise my eyes, my ears and my knees.
Can’t we stick to something a bit safer?
Is there no activity that’s not such a chafer?
So as you see, “D”’s are not as great as they seem.
Frankly they’re safer in an old man’s dream.
At least in dreams everything’s right –
The size of your chest doesn’t have to fit your height.
But since they’re here, you may as well enjoy.
I’ll just think of them as Nature’s Perfect Toy.

2009-09-16T08:36:00.001-04:00

More random running thoughts.
Dogs respond better than kids to, “MOVE!” I sometimes work out in the basement on days when it’s either too hot or too rainy to run. The kids never believe me when I tell them to stay off of my rug.
Denise Austin cannot count, has faltering rhythm and may suffer from hearing loss.
The 2 Slavic women on Core Rhythms Workout scare me.
If I tell myself I have to rest PAST the maple tree and not AT the maple tree I may break the psychological block.
If I drink out of the same leafy puddle as the dogs will I get giardia again? (Mexico)
When it rains hard enough the really sandy parts of the trail pack down.
Running with your eyes closed makes it seem like you’re going really fast.

My original note. . . written 7-19-09

2009-09-16T08:34:00.000-04:00

Let’s get right into it. I’m a chubby 37 year old mom. I live in the country, have a good education and like to work in my garden. I have a skinny husband who still finds me sexy, a horribly fit mom and dad, 3 embarrassingly athletically adept siblings and their equally athletic spouses. I like to read, walk with my dogs and sunbathe.
However, with all of that said, I have decided to train for a triathalon. The date of the event: July 18, 2010. It is now July 24, 2009. I have 360 days.
Here’s what I’ve learned so far:
I can run 3 hilly, woodsy miles pretty well. That is one less mile and 2 events shy of the Tri.
Running with contacts in is good; running with wet sneaks is bad.
I love my “I Gots Mad Ninja Skills” t-shirt. It motivates me.
When I get sweaty enough the legs of my running skort stay down.
I love running with my dogs; it’s sad that Hank is 10 and falls behind.
I like eating spinach salad with fresh blueberries, honey-roasted sunflower seeds and raspberry vinegarette dressing. Salad burps are gross.
Listening to my I-pod is great, until it’s too loud and the woods creep me out.
Having a killer sports bra is key. Getting sweaty and needing help to peel it off is painful.
Not bad for the third night of training. I’m becoming quite introspective.
Bringin’ it home to Kid Rock rules.

When I was in 5th grade and my gym teacher told me I weighed 108 pounds I cried. I was 5’6. I should have weighed that much. My nickname was Moose. It was given with love and stuck for that entire year. But, something like that tends to stay in the mind. I am the largest of all of my friends, who include Ironman participants, marathoners, Olympic skiers, mad bicycle racers, mountain climbers, collegiate swimmers. . . you get the picture. They all love me and I love them; there’s just more of me to love.

I don’t drink. I take an anti-depressant. I often find while I’m eating a super-sized Payday bar that I’m thinking it’s soooooo wrong but that I really don’t care. Compulsion. No, sorry, it’s not my thyroid, but thanks for asking if I’ve had it checked!

Back to the Tri. I got myself a necklace that is really cool. It says “All the strength you need is right there inside you.” So far it seems to be working as a motivator. Stick with me if you will, we have a long way to go! I’ll need your help and support and will willingly plead for it. I need to do this but know I won’t go it alone. Help a girl?