IronDog Minna.
Goodbye, old girl.
Love you and my heart aches.

Chickens

They come home-- to roost. Every time.
This can be bad, and it can be good. But they will come. I've learned that this year.

In the case of LP, I'm hoping their arrival will be good. Work I did months and months and months ago will make an appearance this weekend. Work I did just last week will likely have less effect, which makes me feel a little helpless. Was the work I did this winter/spring/early summer good enough? Quality enough? Focused enough? Was it enough for the chickens to have a comfy little roosting come Sunday? I'm being truthful when I admit I don't deserve a whole hell of a lot in terms of comfy roosting in most other aspects of my life. But I think I do deserve it in terms of the effort I've put in to prepare for this race. Hopefully the chickens will view things that way as well.

I will stop speaking by way of analogy now.

I have had a really shitty weekend in some respects. The good was really good. Yesterday was gorgeous and I spent nearly the whole day on the beach with Alina and our troupe of kids.

The bad? Started with my seat post clamp splitting in half on Thursday's ride. Then I blew out two tires in succession on a ride on Friday. Then I tried a ride again on Saturday and blew out the same tire 20 minutes in. Finally I found the god damn piece of glass lodged silently and stealthily inside the tire.
Other bad: the plantar fascitis in my heel is like-- not good. I don't talk about being injured at all, so I will stop there. It is not so bad that I can't race, of course. It's just there. and it hurts. and I want it to go away.
And then there was the traffic on the way home last night: a two hour trip became a four hour trip. That would be the chickens again--roosting b/c I spent too long hanging at the beach before I headed home.
And finally, the kicker. My chocolate lab, the invincible, high strung, crazy 11 year pup of mine--is not invincible after all. She will go before her big, senile older bro. She has a tumor in her mouth the size of my fist. And it's mouth cancer. And that's it. Not going to write about it anymore than that because doing so brings out that big lump in my throat and the quiet tears that won't go away.
If you don't have a pet--well, I know it seems dumb to get all messed up about one dying. But she was not supposed to go this way. She had the energy of a 6 month old puppy. And she was one of the first things Andy and I decided to do together--as a unit. We split the cost of her 50/50. And she was with us all this time, escaping the yard and chasing squirrels and stealing our kids' food right off their plates. And she drove me crazy. And I love her.
And her death is just--

And I think maybe God wants to shift my atttention away from LP, so I can remain calm and so I keep things in perspective.
But I feel like I am being punished.
Which is self-centered and crazy. Because this can't be a case of the chickens, and if it is--it's an awfully shitty way for them to announce themselves.

Not sure what the old man is going to do without her. They had each other.
She was indomitable.
Sounds so tacky but maybe she'll send me her hyper-crazy-superdog powers for IM.
By IM she will be gone.

Noah, Ethan, Maria, Jordan, Dara, Lara

10 points if you can figure out who belongs to whom.

Alina and me. Taken by Jordan.

We have been playing all week, but today we're just resting.  I feel wrong, like I should be doing something constructive. Life is so full right now that I rarely feel like there is nothing much I should be doing.  There is always something to be done.  And if I'm not doing, I should be working to figure things out, plan things, understand things.  And if I'm not doing those things I should be doing one of the things I long to do when there is not time--like read, or write, or cook or garden.  Guilt. What a burden it is. What freedom if I could off-load it somehow--or maybe put it in its appropriate place. 

Yesterday on my ride the clamp on my seat post broke in half and my seat shot down to the bottom of the stem.  I had to ride home like that.  Not fun!  I'm sure I looked like a tool.  I certainly felt like one. I had it fixed, but now the seat is too high, and I need help moving it down.  I should be able to move my own seat.  But I either I don't have the right tool ( I think I have a 5 Allen wrench that seems to be right) or I'm not strong enough to loosen it. Either way, I have to bring it back in to get it done right. 

On days like today I expect great things of the internet.  I want entertainment.  I want fun things in my inbox. I want to find something juicy to read and savor. 

And just when I want that, the internet and my inbox don't produce. 

I'm finally feeling like taper has begun.  I feel rested and restless. I feel like I'm getting rounder.  (maybe not good--should probably keep the weight off until at least next week!) 

I feel like I need a good, hard swim or a good, hard run.  I need to sweat.  I need a place to channel the energy I use exclusively to train.  Drinking margaritas, playing at tattoos and being feisty in general -- 

well.  

I need to keep myself in check. 

check.

2217.

Sorry

I haven't been posting. 

This is basically because I'm too busy drinking margaritas with my friend Alina.  This week we put the kids in camp and we've basically been swimming, lunching/margarita-ing, and shopping all week. It's not good to shop AFTER margaritas. That's what I have learned in my travails. Just so you know. 

Alina (after a margarita) bought me a really pretty pair of Peridot studs to wear for IM. Peridots are green, for those of you in the gem-know, and green is my favorite color. They also stand for luck, success and friendship, according to the marketing description in the pretty showcase in the jewelry store.  I thought it was pretty fucking sweet of her.  That would be why she's a best friend, huh?

I bought nothing for her, though. Yep. Lame. I did buy myself some hips jeans in a second-hand store, a couple of fitting, worn t-shirts (from the same store) (I SO do not need jeans and t-shirts, btw. I have a billion), and finally a neoprene hat and mittens to swim with in the ocean b/c I have been freezing my ass off this season. Did I mention the water was 57 degrees on Monday morning? Lest you think that's not too cold, I need to tell you -- IT IS.

Alina also bought these super funky shoes.   You can't really tell in this pic, but they are ruby red.  

Yesterday we went down and cruised Old Orchard Beach after Alina returned from a swim there that landed her at the Pier.  OOB by the Pier is like--?  Don't know what to compare it to. It's the kind of place that has rides, video games, tattoo parlors and cheesy gift shops.  At said cheesy gift shops you can usually find someone to paint you a henna tattoo.  So we did. Alina got a shark swimming up her back and I got a skull on my ankle and a stamp that says BAD GIRL in bubble letters. It is pretty fucking funny. At least I think so.

Okay! What else? 

I'm not really freaked out yet about LP. I'm calm. I'm not sure if this is a good thing or a bad thing. I'm feeling fit as a fiddle, so maybe that is why.  After that horrible stomach bug of two weeks back I am also smaller than I've been since I was like eleven. In fact, unless you look at my face, I look like I'm eleven.  It's a little scary.  I'm looking forward to gaining some weight back after IM so I will have more than mosquito bites for boobs before the end of summer. I'm fit -- and flat. It's a wonder my bikini tops don't just fall off of me, given there's nothing to hold them up.

sigh. I need to stop complaining about that.  Irony. Irony. Irony. You needed to have known me at sixteen to get that.

ANYWAY. 

MY NUMBER IS 2217. You'd best be following me on that big day! Just kidding. Ange is 2223, so we will be near each other.  Yeah! 

I was going to post pics of the tattoos, but that would be just too risque.  Just kidding. Actually, we don't have any good pics.  They are all kinda blurry and not worth posting.

On deck for tomorrow: a nice 1.5 hour ride, a quick 30 min run, and an ocean swim with Alina, of course! I'm looking forward to donning my super cool hat and mittens. I will look like AquaWoman! If only my wetsuit and accoutrements were fluorescent green...

Give me a Crunchy Chocolate Chewy or It's Been One of Those Days

It got sunny for a bit.
But now it's raining again. I can't take it. I CAN'T TAKE IT!

ho hum. Okay. On to Other drivel. Jordan and I DID make crunchy chocolate chewies. I've had like 10 now. oops.

Today I took my kidlets to the gym so I could complete a pain-fest of a run on the treadmill. I actually didn't want to do this on the treadmill. I wanted to go outside. But there are two reasons why I couldn't:

1. Remember how I had the stomach bug like a week ago? Yeah, well, if you remember, I got it from my son, Noah. Right. So I took him to the gym before he was better last week, and he booted in the daycare there. Are you ready to give me the Mommy-of-the-Month award?
It gets better. I was out running when he got sick--with my cell phone so I could be contacted if there was a problem. You are supposed to always be within 7 minutes of the gym when you run outside. That's a little restrictive, so I just don't follow that rule. I was 25 minutes out when they called me to tell me I had to retrieve Noah, and could I be there in seven minutes?
yep.
So they kind of suggested maybe I not do that again. I did snuggle him nice and close when I finally got there. That's probably why I succumbed to that fucking bug 24 hours later.
2. It was thundering and lightning when I arrived at the gym today, and also pouring buckets.

So me and the treadmill = BFF.

The gym is always really warm. Don't get me started. People work out there. It should be like an icebox!
I wore a tank top and shorts and moved a fan so it was closer to me without totally screwing everyone else around me. The run was a fartlek-- you know like 8 min on, 8 min off etc. I started with 8 m at half mary pace (7:05) and then descended to 10K pace for 6, 5K pace for 4, faster than 5k for two. Holy fucking shit it was hard. I have no idea WHY it was so hard today; it just was.
I knew it was going to be a sweaty one from the minute I got on the treadmill. But oh man, even I wasn't prepared for this. Half way through the run I was SOAKING WET. My shorts were drenched and dripping everywhere--my hair was soaked, my legs were dripping in rivulets down to the treadmill floor. I was spewing sweat all over the place. People didn't get on the treadmills next to me to avoid being sprayed. I also was sucking wind violently and disconcertingly and every once in a while I'd let out a little whimper. It was pretty. and hot.

I stayed on the mill for 1:15. That's like three times what most people at the gym do, and when I got off one older woman asked me, "Honey, how long did you run for? That was some workout!" I just smiled. Not that long in the world of IM shit! haha! I had planned to do a few situps when I was done, but I was, as I mentioned, soaking wet and I thought people might be a little grossed out if I sat my drenched ass on the sit-up board.

So, I went to take a shower.
Then I got out.
Then I realized I had forgotten my regular bra.
Oh well. I'm flat. Who cares.
Then I realized I had forgotten SHORTS! I had no fucking shorts! Underwear, a shirt, clean socks,a towel, shampoo, soap, a hairdryer, a little spritz, a little make-up, a little snack, an extra water bottle, extra hair elastics, my phone, my keys, BUT NO FUCKING SHORTS. (I had come to the gym dressed to run.)

I just couldn't put on those sopping wet running shorts. I just couldn't.
So I sucked it up, picked up my stuff, and went to get my kids just wearing a shirt with no bra and my underwear.












JUST KIDDING!!!! That would be great, though, huh?

Actually, I put my towel around my waist. This was fine until Noah asked me WHY I had a towel around my waist and I had to admit I had forgotten key apparel to everyone within hearing distance.

_________________
Thursday is my last super long ride. I'm a little sad. I like my training. I don't want it to stop.
But I am really excited for this race. I'm excited because I know I can do it. Cool, huh? I can't be stupid, but if I'm not stupid I DO think I will be an Ironman in just a little under three weeks.
Wahoo!

Then I'll rest a bit.
But not for too long because I have signed up for IM Coeur d'Alene!!!!!
Please let me know if there's anyone out there doing it. I want some Coeur d'Alene blogging buddies!

Ange, Mary, Alina
just before our swim at Crystal Lake in Gray, Maine

The sun came out on Friday. Just in time. I was about to go totally and completely insane. It was cold on the beach, but I didn't care. I was just so happy to have the sun poke through the clouds. We had thirteen straight days of rain. Thirteen. And before that it was gloomy and cold.

Anyway! On Friday morning Alina and I got up very early and drove an hour to meet Ange at Crystal Lake. In MA Walden Pond is the mecca of OW swimming, but in Maine it's Crystal Lake. There were probably 25 people there to swim. The parking lot was packed.

Ange and Alina are about the same pace. That pace would be ummm--really, really fast. My plan was to follow them as best as I could until they were out of sight. They were really nice and waited for me every fifteen minutes or so until I caught up with them. By the end of each fifteen minutes I was usually a good three to four minutes behind them. Yep.

It was great to be in a lake as opposed to the Atlantic. I love ocean swimming, but because the weather has been so cold for the last month, the water is FREEZING. 55 degrees to be exact. That's really cold. Alina and I went swimming on Saturday and I swear I was minutes away form hypothermia. I couldn't feel my nose, feet or fingers by the end of our swim.

This morning I went on a five hour ride. Riding around here is about ten billion times easier than riding in suburban MA. The pavement is smooth, the shoulders wide, there are long stretches of road instead of the winding shit we have at home, and there are very few cars. In MA I feel as if I risk my life every time I go out. Between potholes, asshole drivers, and tons of traffic, riding is not that easy or fun.

I rode out to the Limerick, Cornish, Parsonfield area. I don't mean offense to anyone who might live in one of those towns, but WOW there is nothing fucking out there--just miles of farmland and forest and scrubalnd and rusty abandoned tractors, trailers and trucks. Cornish appears to be the metropolis of the three towns. It has a small grocery store, a Subway and a Dunkin Donuts.

On the way home, riding through Parsonsfield, I climbed a mountain on my bike. I didn't mean to. I had no idea that the route I had planned would take me straight up. When I got to the top of this mountain I snapped a few pictures. Acutally, it was very pretty. Of course, you will note the obligatory abaonded trailer...


When I got back from the ride I headed out on an 8 mile transition run. My plan was to stay zone 2 the whole time. This is the hr I will run at IM, and I wanted to simulate that.
The thing is, when I DO discipline myself to stay in zone 2 running is fantastic. It's effortless and easy, and just -- lovely. For the first time today I could actually fathom attempting to run a marathon following the bike.

Tomorrow I head back to MA for a week. Boo. But then it's back up to Maine for another week before I journey to Lake Placid.

Oh boy.
Oh boy!

Okay. I admit it. I'm in a crappy mood.
I'm in Maine. I should be happy. I love Maine. But Maine is so cold right now. SO SO SO COLD. It is so cold that my swim this morning, done in the frigid Atlantic, was warmer than the air temperature. And I'm not kidding or exaggerating. The water temp. was 57 degrees. The air temp. was 54.
And the air temp. never got warmer.
And it's been this cold for more than a week.
And it's wet. And tomorrow will be the same. And Friday will still be wet, but it may climb, if we're lucky, into the mid-60's.
And it's July.

The one thing this weather is good for is running. I had a great, cool, misty run early this a.m. Of course if this weather keeps up for the next three weeks and then at Placid it's even remotely hot I'm totally screwed, as my body will not be acclimated at all.
Biking and OW swimming in this shit? Not so good. I swam mid-morning (thank you, Alina...) wearing my wetsuit and Alina's neoprene hat (thanks again). It was cold and choppy, and when the fog set in Alina got nervous and notified the lifeguard that I was out there and she couldn't see me anymore. I was fine, though. The rip tide that was so strong yesterday was less intense, so I was confident all would end well. (Yesterday was a different story. Probably not too smart to swim solo, which I did, naturally.) After my swim I took a positively boiling shower and then put on two long sleeved shirts, a sweatshirt, and then my Marmot jacket. I still haven't taken any of these layers off. I know the rest of the country is experiencing heat, and I know you want it to cool off.
Just be careful what you wish for.
Not that I'm bitter or anything.
Really.

My kids (and Alina's) seem unconcerned about the weather. At five tonight they insisted we go to the beach for a swim and to dig holes. It was 50 degrees and they wore bathing suits. . My oldest actually went swimming. The others just dug. and dug. I guess it's fun to dig.....
I just stood there shivering, occasionally asking if they were ready to go back for some nice warm cocoa...please? please?

One thing that is nice about the rain and cold is that our pace here has been slow--or as slow as it can get when you have six kids between the two of you. (Alina and I are sharing the house and we have all of our kids here together.) Over the years we have both become quite adept at drinking tea (or coffee in my case), reading and ignoring them all as they scream and run around like lunatics. At any rate, I have been waiting a long time to get to a place where I can just be without the worry of work and school hovering over my head. I'm starting to unwind. My shoulders have relaxed a bit this week for the first time in forever.

I have a lot to figure out. I'm sans job. I'm sans direction. I'm sans a deep knowing about--well--anything. I DO know I'd like to go back to school (again) for Master's degree number 3, this time in sport psychology and exercise physiology, but how can I 1. justify a third master's and 2. afford it even if I could justify it? And furthermore, isn't it about time I stopped going to school, teaching in school, being in school? It has been -- well-- about 34 years now...

Yep.
I am in a murky spot in life. You know when you are swimming OW and the water is clear and you can see the sand and the rocks and (gasp) sometimes fish? I like that. But then there are those other times--in other bodies of water-- in which the bottom is dark silt and black leaves, and you can see little if anything except for your own splash, which sometimes you mistake for a snapping turtle that may or may not be out to get you. It's disconcerting not to see, and to wonder whether you will eventually see, whether you will emerge from the murk and have clarity again. I've always had trouble with faith. Yet I need it to get through this period in my life. I need the faith that this too shall pass, and I will feel settled, connected and safe with myself again.

Meanwhile, I guess I'll watch my cherubs as they make their own summer reality. They are in Maine--with the beach, and the ice cream store, with their cousins and Aunt Alina. They are going to the beach in their swim trunks and swimming with their little boogie boards--even if it is 50 degrees, spitting rain, and the ocean is murky with seaweed and silt. Fuck the weather. They're getting on with it.

Somehow, I need to too.

Sick, Fuzzy, Down for the Count

Woah Mama.  

Gastroenteritis is so fun.... 

Noah, my five-year-old, gave me a special present: his absolutely VIOLENT stomach virus. I don't need to go into the graphic details (although you all know I'm not above such things) however, suffice to say that my stomach and colon have been cleaned out completely in the last 12 hours. ___________ My last day of work was Wednesday. Childcare ended yesterday, Friday. TWO WHOLE DAYS!!! Thursday was sort of a wash. It started out great, with a final trip into work to clean out my desk and a fantabulous run, but then I had to get my sweet little son early from daycare because--well--he was puking. 

From the moment I cleaned up the first pukey mess I began to pray: Just let me get it after my long ride tomorrow. This is a key ride--I have to go--just let me get it after....Please God. Please. Well. God complied. I made it through my ride on Friday. But I was not off the hook. Oh no. I had planned to attend a dinner party at one of my good college friend's houses with Andy last night. This woman can host, man. Mojitos, awesome apps, fish tacos.... and best of all, great company. 

Within a 1/2 hour of arrival I knew I was in trouble, though. There was no powering through it. I had at best 15 minutes before I was going to be talking to God via his porcelain connection. I grabbed Andy, who at that point didn't realize the gravity of the situation, got a bucket from Court (the bestest hostess), gave my hugs and told my friends to wash everything I had touched really carefully. I made it down the driveway and into the car before the puking began. 

Puking when you're drunk really is the worst. I haven't experienced it for years, but I experienced it plenty as a young lass, and I remember. Worse, though, is puking when totally sober. It's especially fun when you're puking up Endurox. I hadn't had much more than PowerBar Endurance, gels, a few bars and Endurox all day, so there wasn't that much that could come up. My stomach was insistent, though, and found a way to allow me to continue puking long after the contents of my stomach should have been empty. And then my colon kicked in to make sure I was completely cleaned out in every way... Okay. Enough! haha! And here I said I wasn't going to give the gruesome details! I just couldn't resist. 

Anyway, back to the ride and before I got sick... As you may be aware, it's been raining here in New England--for like forever. When it's not raining it's overcast and muggy. My bike shoes absolutely reek. I have forgotten what it's like to feel sun on my back. I have contemplated creating and marketing glasses that have windshield wipers. But Friday morning it was NOT raining. The weather called for thunderstorms, but whatever. I could deal with that. I was psyched and ready to roll. Mrs. Zebra was loaded up like a pack horse with drink, gels, bars, phone, money, ID etc. etc. etc. I dressed all in black so I could take on my bad ass persona and match Mrs. Z in style. Life was good. I dropped off the kidlets, explained that if someone was to start, say, puking, they'd have to call Andy, because I was going for a long, long, ride and it would be tough to get back in a timely fashion should such a crisis arise. The only problem I had was that I was riding alone. For like seven hours. That's kind of a long time. But I do most everything workout-wise alone these days, so I knew I could handle it. The plight of working out alone... Interesting topic for another post. 

I had decided to ride to Mt Wachusett, a mountain/national park about 50 miles away. Unfortunately, I've never done that ride, and anyone who knows me knows that this is a problem... I'm just not super when it comes following a cue sheet. Additionally, I didn't have a formal cue sheet, just my own sloppy instructions and my IPhone. The IPhone is awesome--it can get me anywhere. The problem was how much I had to use it. After two hours of riding I had already spent at least 20 minutes off the bike trying to figure out where to turn next, and I was super irritated. Finally I decided that this ride just wasn't going to happen today. I will find a friend who has done that ride and force him/her to go with me to show me the way. Until then...I hightailed it back to an area I know well, and set out to do the remaining 4 hours on the bike. 

The route I chose was super hilly. My mph were super slow. And it started to rain. This was no thunderstorm. This was just -- rain. For 2.5 hours straight. I felt so unbelievably pissy--really, it's a blessing I was alone. Additionally, I didn't want to stop at all because I had wasted so much time off pedal early in the ride. Today would be the day I did everything while riding: peeing, refueling, refilling. I even ran a few stoplights so I could keep motoring along. The good news is that I have discerned that I have no problem peeing on the bike. The key, I discovered, is that you can't be pedaling. You just need to pause and let it go. Another key: pee often. That way you don't have a massive wet that streaks down your legs. Grrrrrossss. 

As I peed away I couldn't help but think in my mind about how when your baby is little, daycares and doctors refer to peeing etc as BW or SW or BBM or SBM--standing for BIG WET or SMALL WET etc. As I peed I'd think to myself, Oh! BIG WET! cause you know--it's a bit like filling a diaper. God, I'm just gross today, huh? 

Interestingly, I never really got super tired. I got bored. I didn't want to be out there anymore. I wanted to go home and take an ice bath and chill. (haha.) But I didn't get tired, really. I felt like if someone had a gun to my head and told me I now had to run a marathon, I could. Somehow I'm going to have to muster up the umph to run that marathon without a gun to my head, though. Maybe I could imagine I have a gun to my head? I had to spend so long out there to get in my 116 miles that I had to ride straight to daycare to get the kids. (It's up the street from where I live.) I showed up looking just nasty: dirt everywhere, even up my back (remember it rained), sweaty, salty, and just in general looking like I was in dire need of a shower. I walked in with my bike shoes and helmet on and tried not to act as if anything was out of the norm. Surely they had seen a MOM enter in such garb before? And I wonder why I have a reputation in this town as the psycho triathlon mom who abandons her kids to ride, run and swim....

Random Shit

I went into work to clean out my desk, clean up, and bring my files/desk shit etc home.
I am no longer a teacher. At least for now. I'm taking a break.

This is weird for me. I have been teaching since I was 22 years old. Before that I was a swim instructor and camp counselor. Before that I taught ballet. I've spent my life in khakis and clogs--in dusty classrooms with middle school kids. Since I began teaching I have taught at least 1200 hundred kids--more if you count the kids I taught when in grad school as a TA or before I started formally teaching in a classroom. My first sixth grade class of kids are now 27 years old.

I've always taught. It's what I do. I'm not sure I know how to do anything else.

Which is why, in part, I had to stop teaching.

Here I am at 39. I'm not sure what the hell I'm going to do next. The mid-life crisis continues....

Well, actually, I do. Next I'm going to do IronMan. Someone I was just chatting with about IM recommended that I focus on it--and it alone-- from now until L.P. Training for an IronMan has both psychological and physical repercussions. In short, you get a little fucked up when training for an IM. Hence, now is not the time to contemplate the next step. I'm going to take that advice. I have 4.5 weeks until the race. I can focus on just my kids and my training until then.

And speaking of training.....
It has been really intense lately. I am flipping tired. I've been tired before, but this is different. This is like--will I ever be fresh again? kind of tired. Bed always looks inviting and gettting up early again and again and again is just about killing me.

But you know? It makes me happy right now. It's predictable, it's tough, it's rewarding. Most importantly, it feels good to have months and months of hard, long training under my belt. Money in the bank for IM. It's there. No one can take it away.

Tomorrow I ride for 115. It will be the longest ride I've ever done (the previous high being the 112 I did at camp a few weeks back.) I'm psyched. But wary. I'm tired going into this ride. It will be a true test of my physical and mental toughess.

Kurt put the idea of making an M-Dot cake into my mind. I am SO going to do that, in addition to getting my tat--whatever form that takes. I'm going to make that cake, get a few kegs and have a party in Maine after L.P. is over. You're invited.
I can't wait for L.P.

Cakes, Kids and too Much Rain

This is the castle cake Jordan (7) and I made for Lara's 4th birthday party. It's quite the masterpiece. It turned out much better than the fire engine cake I made for Noah's 2nd birthday--which looked as if it had gotten into a crash.
I am generally quite happy with my cake making skills, however. For example, I am especially proud of:
The mermaid cake--for Jordan's 5th. That was a real beauty.
Noah's 3rd bday cake was a train. I liked this one too, but it not looking like it's ready to take off at any great speed. Moving vehicles are hard to achieve in cake making land.

Another one I really like was simple, but good. The cat cake is easy to achieve, and very fun. This was for Jordan's second.I especially like the cupcakes I made to go with it. Actually, I think the coolest cupcake, the open-mouthed scary kitty, was made by my older sister Laura, who is only slightly better than me in cakemakingville.
One of my biggest failures was for Lara's second birthdy. It was supposed to be a dog. Not good to start with, it was made worse by the fact that my REAL dog bit off its right paw. I had no more white frosting to make another paw, so I had to make it with red frosting. It is remembered as the Dog Cake with the Bloody Paw.

One of my all time favorites I can't take credit for. The pigeon cake, straight from Don't Let the Pigeon Drive the Bus by Mo Willems, was made by Alina for her daughter, Maria. It was a keeper, except that we ate it, of course.

At any rate, the fiesta for Lara's 4th was a success. Here she is with her cake.

And here are all three of my beauties post-party after destroying the remaining water balloons created for Jordan's roll the water balloon down the slide game. (The game was a hit, btw. Leave it to the second grader to come up with the most entertaining games...):
_____________________________________
Enough of kids and cakes.

Onto training.
Wow. This weekend was freaking tough.
On Friday morning I swam more than 2 miles in the open water with Melissa. We didn't stop, like AT ALL. It was impressive. It took forever. We were proud.
(and tired.)
In the afternoon I had a short, easy run.
BUT THEN on Saturday I went for a three hour run. I was supposed to go for three hours or 20 miles, whichever came first, but I had my heart set on 3 hours. (sorry, Jen.) So I ended up going 22 and a tad. The last 10K I did at a faster clip, and I was TOAST when I was done.
But then I loafed around all afternoon with the kids, and I felt better.
I got up at 5 am this morning to go on my ride. It was wet. I need windshield wipers for my biking glasses. Will it ever stop raining around here? God! Anyway, I went for a little over 80 miles in the spitting rain. UGH! But it was fine. I tried to stay on top of my nutrition, but I still didn't take in enough fluid because it was so cool and I ended up hundreds of calories short. grrrr.

Yesterday Andy did a 160 mile ride called the Brewery to Brewery Ride or B2B, as it's known around here, which goes from MA to VT. He had fun, and now I want to do it, of course! Someday, someday....

Happy Father's Day to all of you dads out there.
And happy being-a-mom day too because moms rock the house. and make cool cakes. and stuff like that.

Lake Placid Training Camp with Team Nor'Easter

First: A few Mooseman Pictures





In all of my run pictures at Mooseman I have that same worried expression. I'm pretty sure I was wondering, as I often do during the run portion of triathlon, 1. whether I will actually make it to the end, and 2. What was I thinking when I signed up for Ironman????

But onward.

Last weekend I drove myself to Lake Placid, NY to train with a few of my Nor'Easter Team triathlon friends. The trip took close to six hours including stops, but I have to admit I didn't mind the trip in either direction. I listened to a book on tape (Jane Green's Second Chance--somewhat cheesy middle-aged woman lit). I identified with several characters in the book, who were all women of 39 going through various mid-life crises. Loved it. Identifying with characters as they evolve and figure out their life transitions is satisfying.
This is me at the end of the race. I like this picture because I look like I have long legs, which let me tell you, I don't.

On to the weekend!
Ange and I shared a room.
We had like 20 bags of shit between us, plus our bikes, plus I don't know what. It was pretty amazing. We even brought a coffee maker. You can't risk such things as not having coffee when you need it.

On our first night we went out for a run. I dying to run because I had been basically resting since the Half Ironman last Sunday. We went out with a group that I thought would be too fast for me, but the group swore they were going easy, and so I went too. Turns out they weren't lying. One thing I'm learning is that the best athletes really do work out at all different speeds and intensities. You can't just look at someone's race times and determine whether you could train with them, or not. Often people with slower times will push you, and people with faster times will go surprisingly slow. I know this observation is rather obvious, but I have always been very black and white about training. You are better than me, or you are not. I will hold you back, or I will be frustrated by having to move too slowly. Sometimes these things are true; sometimes they are not. But you can't know by assumption.

New friends. This run was the beginning of it. Have I mentioned I love new friends? Several people--actually more than several--turned out to be remarkably funny and cool. Being remarkably funny and cool myself, I am immediately able to identify such characteristics in others. That night we went out to a pub for dinner and a beer. I love beer almost as much as I love making new friends. The combination of the two? Perfecto.

The next morning we got up and -- slugged.
Wow. I haven't done that in a really long time. I felt as if we should be doing something, and after a longish diner breakfast and way too much coffee, I became genuinely fidgety. Finally we we packed up and went for a ride. It was slow and comfortable, and only lasted for 20 miles. Still, it was something.

And then we went swimming! Yeah! We swam the two laps of the LP course. It was great the first lap. Then I got bored. That's a long time to just, well, swim. I finished her up in like 1:05. I kind of dislike myself for allowing myself for to get bored, lose focus, and loaf. The lake is awesome, though. The area is just beautiful.


Then Ange and I went for a brisk run around the lake. Ahhhhh.....

Dinner, chit-chat with good friends, bed.
_______________

I slept well.
I got up. We made coffee. We drank coffee. We ran around like crazy women getting ready to bike. and then.
I was ready--ready to bike the course.
The plan was to take the first loop slow, ride with the group and not do anything stupid.
This is what we did. The first loop we took really, really, really, really slow. sloooooooooooow.
It was cool, so I was inclined not to drink, but I forced myself to. I also forced myself to eat. People looked at me funny when I took my first gel in at 35 minutes, but I really wanted to test out my race day nutrition--and this was my big chance. I am happy to say--I officially have my bike nutrtion plan. It involves lots of PowerBar Endurance (5.5 bottles), water, lots of salt, lots of gel (one every 40 min or so), one yummy Lara Bar, one Peanut Brittle Clif Bar, and one bag of pretzel cracker- peanut butter sandwichs. My stomach is pretty tough; I think I'll be able to handle the bars. Plus, I plan to be conservative on the bike. I want a good run.

I rode with Ange the whole way. Sometimes we were close to the group, sometimes ahead. It was solid. It felt good. It wasn't as hard as I had feared it would be. I love riding with Ange. Hell, I just love Ange!

After the ride Ange and I went on another brisk run. Too brisk, in fact! We were both SOOO hungry and so ready for the work to be over that we hammered. Ange's heartrate monitor was beeping out of control because we were way above what we should've been for heart rate. (I don't have mine set to beep--or mine would have sung right out too). We ran about 6 and then called it a day, struggling up that last hill coming in town. Wahoo!

The next morning was my daughter's 4th b-day, so I got up super early and got my long run in starting at 5 a.m. so I could leave Lake Placid by 7 and be back home by noon. God it's beautiful out there. You don't notice it so much when you're cruising along on your bike and riding with friends, but when alone, running in the early, cool morning, it's just--amazing. What a great run. (Amazing except for the mother of a hill coming into town: that SUCKS. Can't wait to do that on race day 2x.... That will be wicked fun.)

This week has been CRAZY. It's the last week of school, it's a big training week, it's my daughter's b-day party tomorrow. Jordan (oldest daughter and chef extraordinaire at age 7) will help me make the cake. We're making a castle cake-- (b/c it's a princess party, of course--4-year-old girl = princess obsession.) I'll post a picture of it when we're done.

I loved camp. I love my tri friends (and those tri friends not at camp--and my other friends, too!). I love training. I love that school is ending and I'm not teaching next year--finally. I love that things are changing--and that these changes are going to be good in the end. I love Andy. I love my kids. Those of you with kids--you now how much.
I feel thankful today.

Mooseman Half Iron RR or Mary Makes Damn Sure Her Hard Work Pays Off

First.
I have some great friends. I arrived on Friday night despondent and sad because of other yucky stuff going on that just sucks sucks sucks --and did I mention sucks? And they brought me up.
They made this weekend. And right up front I want to say thank you for that.

Friday night:
Ange (DrivetoTri), Mike (Sandbagger MacDonald--haha jk!) , and I had dinner at our inn. It was a German inn, and I just need to say that the woman who served us had the biggest knockers I've ever seen in my life, and they were pushed up in such a way that she could have stacked plates upon them and served us that way. I tried not to stare, but it was hard. It was truly amazing.

That's the only interesting thing to report about Friday night. After dinner we went to bed.

Saturday:
The next morning we got COFFEE! of course. And then we went to watch Steve (MaineSport) and Kim (Teta Equals Booty) and other very special people that we love dearly but who don't have blogs so I'm not going to mention them by name.

It was fun to watch everyone. The best moments of the day:

1. Mike is going to send me a pic of the guy who left the swim holding a GIGANTIC dead fish in his hand that he preceeded to swing around and around. I kid you not. You're sending that pic, right Mike? Get a move on there, brotha. (Mike sent it to me. Thanks, Mike!)


2. When we saw one of the first women pass on the bike Ange shouted, "Go Woman!" It was really funny, but I think you had to be there to appreciate how funny.

3. Ange and Mike are super prepared people, so I was well fed. I am chronically underprepared, so this was just a special treat for me. Thanks for letting me eat all of your food, guys.

4. Seeing all of our friends on the course. I missed some after the race, though I looked EVERYWHERE for EVERYONE (esp. Kim) so I don't get how this happened. It was good to see Steve. He did wicked good and we were very proud to know him.

We racked our bikes and tried to calm Ange down, and I chatted with new friends and old friends and in general just felt all warm and friendly.

For dinner a bunch of us went to a sweet little dive and ate pizza etc.

And then we went back to the inn and tried to sleep.

Sunday:

OKAY!
We got up. We didn't leave early enough. This didn't bother me that much b/c I never leave early enough, which is why, I suppose, I am always late. Ange is not, though. She is always the first person in transtion at like 3 am. But she handled our lateness really well. She is making real progress and we are all very proud of her.
jk.

When we got there I hooked up with Melissa, who I had been eager to see all weekend. After a bit of pre-race getting ready jitters, we headed down to the water.

I went to this race to take risks.
I did take risks.
Taking risks seemed to work out quite well.

The SWIM:
As per usual, I loved the swim. I felt strong. I found a good rhythm. I was loving life and working hard. It is SO unfortunate that the swim portion of any triathlon has to end. It's over so fast. I found two other pink caps my pace and we took turns drafting throughout the swim. I think we were 3/4/5 out of the water in our wave.
29:10. PR swim for moi. Most importantly, I kept up with Ange for at least 25 yards. That might be a record for me.

T1. I feel like a drunk when I get out of the water. But I stumbled to the strippers, got stripped, and found my bearings.
1:40 Not bad for me.

*** Best moment of my day****
While leaving transition the announcer shouted, And we have our 3rd female Age Grouper of the day heading out on the bike course! or something like that. SO COOL! Of course I didn't have the third fastest swim time of the 35-and-up-ers. I think I may have been 4th or 5th. But I got out of T1 faster. So there.
Also cool: So many people I knew cheered me on as I left T1. Thank you, people. You know who you are, and I love you for cheering for me even though I'm now donning a Nor'Easter uniform. Means a lot to me.

The BIKE:
I went really fast. I was like lightning. I had Smash Mouth's "Hey Now, You're a Rock Star" blaring in my head. I was passing people left and right--and all men--because the rest of the chicks weren't on the course yet. A few hills brought me down a few notches. But I still felt great. I was taking risks, man.
And then a girl passed me. AND SHE WAS FROM THE WAVE BEHIND ME! Oh dear.... Still, I kept up with her the whole way and never let her go. She was like my inspiration, and I even began singing that Chicago song to her under my breath, "You're the meaning in my life, you're the inspiration." I was sucking too much wind to sing in more than a whisper, though. I kept thinking, "Yeah, but I'll get you, woman! I'll get you on the run!" But alas, it turned out this chick ended up 2nd OA. So I guess I didn't beat her on the run. Damn.
The best part of this ride? I didn't FLAT. Thank God above. I was prepared to flat, though. I really was.
2:44:45. Not as fast as Clearwater.
But Clearwater didn't have you climbing Devil's Hill twice at 4 mph.

T2
I FINALLY DID SOMETHING NEW RIGHT!
I wore NO socks for the bike. I put on socks for the run. In the past I have put on socks in T1. I then preceed to sweat for 56 miles, and my socks get wet. Then I don my running shoes, and preceed to blister on the run. Not this time! Ahhh.... nice dry socks in t2. No blisters for me. Sure, my bike shoes now smell so bad you want to vomit when you get too close. But whatever.

1:20 Not bad for putting on socks.


The RUN:
The first two miles I was in control and felt fine. Better than fine. Then I didn't feel fine anymore. Then I hit this one monster hill that left me totally deflated. And as I ran up it I remembered I had to run up it again b/c this was a two loop course. Oh dear God, I thought. I am going to DIEEEEE.
But. I got over the hill.
And then I reminded myself I was meant to suffer-- I loved to suffer-- suffering makes me Master of the Universe.
The second loop I really did suffer. And I slowed down. and down. But I was still within goal range--still turning out miles between 7:30 and 7:40. And then that stupid fucking hill came and I nearly dropped to my knees and began to cry.
The last few miles I was super out of it. You know when you get all spacey and light and you feel like you are sort of swimming through air really slowly?
I was SO out of it that when I got to the end and had to choose whether to go back on the course for another loop or whether to go down the finishing chute, I WENT TO START THE COURSE AGAIN.
It took me a good 30 seconds to realize I was not in the right place. I began screaming Fuck! at the top of my lungs. I really hope there weren't any kids around. I was too hysterical to notice. I made my way back, and finally finished. Yahoo! Happy!
1:39:30

Final Time: 4:56:26
2nd AG (but they give me 1st AG because my bestest friend Ange got third! so I moved up a spot)
6th female OA.
I'm pretty psyched that Ange and I went 1/2 in our AG. We had planned on it--but you know--you never know. The next 35-39 woman finished 15 minutes behind me and 27 behind Ange. Oh yeah.

And what I have to say about that is--Thanks, Jen.

The Chase, The Pass, The Line

"Our doubts are traitors, and make us lose the good we oft might win, by fearing to attempt". - Measure for Measure (Act I, Scene IV).

I want to get to Kona before I turn 43.

So I'm just going to go there. And soon.

A lot of life is like that: you must decide you're going to get something, and then act as if it's yours to have. The conviction alone will get you nearly there.

Nearly is not there, though. It isn't yes. And unfortunately, nearly to Kona, but not all the way there, will place a person treading water somewhere in the Pacific Ocean. And treading water isn't the idea. Neither is swimming desperately to the shore seeking safety and penance for the want we tried at and did not achieve.

I-like many- am attracted to those people who make me feel alive and ready to take on the world--those who live close to line--playing and pushing and participating in life without the fear they will end up having to swim to the shore after coming up short. I love those people and I hate them, because they intoxicate me with their desire and passion, and remind me that I'm, perhaps, not fully following my own. These are the people that just do it--hell be damned--and I want that too.

But pushing so far that you don't heed the line has its consequences. It's easy to see when those who live hell-by-damned end up winning the slot, but we fail to see that those who live this way actually do come up short a ton of the time--ending up in waters that are usually not ideal and often unsavory. We envy, but we aren't willing to put it all--meaning our hard earned stabs at stability and safety--on the line. We see their insouciance, and we want it, while simultaneously wanting to stay home and watch another episode of House. We long to eviscerate the feeling that we are not living life to the fullest; that somehow we are squandering time and will end up at our grave pissed that we didn't make more of it all.

This is why I do sport. Sport creates a playing field that is real, but not real; a field chock full of competitors who double as friends, a field on which we can place a dream and know that its fulfillment or lack thereof will not really jeopardize life as we know it. In short, in sport we can chase adrenaline within the confines of something that is bound and appropriate. We can emulate those that put it all on the line and really live--while staying safely behind the line and only crossing it at the end of a race.

This is not to say that I don't/haven't crossed lines other than the finishing lines in a races. I do and I have. I am, unfortunately or fortunately depending on who you ask, rather insouciant myself. But I know the costs of acting that way; I've suffered consequences both painful and humbling. Sport can dole out pain and humility--but it usually does so without taking life and limb. And so sport works for me. And if you're reading this, it likely works for you too.

I've always loved to play and compete and I've always loved the chase of a goal, an idea, a person. The ways I've managed my desire to chase has shifted over the years, but the rush of establishing a goal and seeing it through to its respective Kona has always been with me. I see a competitor in the distance and I place a target on his back. I can feel my body shift into a different gear and a surge of energy course through me. This is the best part; moving closer and closer but not yet signifying to the target that I'm about to make the pass.

Soon the pass must be made though, and herein lies the risk and the rush. It takes courage to make the pass. By passing you are calling the shot, making your intentions known, and issuing a challenge. You never know how the competitor will react, and so often the feeling at that point changes from pure adrenaline rush to pure adrenaline fear. The person could call you on it, match you, pass you back; the person could let you go "for now" only to crawl up your back and make the pass later, or the person could simply be in awe of your speed and not take you up on the challenge to race. In any case, if you pass, you are vulnerable to the possibility that you misjudged your competitor and yourself. You've made public your belief that you've got what it takes to beat said person, and that person could respond to you by making sure he makes it to the line before you. And that can feel -- really bad. It's tough when you make a break and it doesn't turn out the way you had planned. In short, chasing the adrenaline that comes with putting yourself on the line can fuel you to greatness--or it can cause you to crash and burn.

Of course, only chasing and passing in sport isn't enough to make a life fulfilled. Right? We need to chase and pass in real life too. The effect of taking risks in life, I believe, is that it forces us to move to a different place--to something unfamiliar. Such places foist on us wisdom and experience. Armed with this, the small, stable places we have built for ourselves stop feeling confining--and instead just feel like coming home.

Open Water Morning

First, I just wanted to point out that I basically agree with everyone's comments on the Effort post. It occurred to me that I was speaking to the wrong audience in writing it. WE are not full of shit. WE all try our little tushes off, failure or success by damned. WE work hard because we know what it means and what it should mean to work hard. WE teach our kids that hard work is worth it, because hard work, in the end, brings satisfaction, joy, and a transcending of the fear of failure. I guess I was really focused on society at large--and what our nation/culture appears to value, which is talent + hard work. I feel saddened when a kid is convinced it's not worth it to try because he could never really be "good" -- and I get equally sad when I see a kid forced to compete in soccer when it's not her passion--even if she is really good at it. Comments like Dwight's, "I sure hope you're good b/c it would suck to work so hard and not be good," send the message, perhaps not even subtly, that we shouldn't work hard unless we have a gift. This is crap, of course, but it's an amazingly common attitude held by adults--by teachers-by coaches-by parents--and it's absolutely toxic. That's what I was trying to say, anyway. Loved your comments. Thanks. On to new things!I got into the open water for the first time this morning. I met a friend at 5:30 am, and the lake (Farm Pond in Sherborn, pictured above--my fav. place to swim around here) was so calm, so gorgeous. At first I didn't even want to get in; I just wanted to stare at the lake and be peaceful. But get in we did.... Amazingly, the water was not cold at all. I think I could've even gone sans wetsuit. That said, I'm glad I had my wetsuit. I love the way it buoys me up and helps me to glide through the water. Rob, the friend I was with, decided to wear FINS, so I was concerned I wouldn't be able to keep up, but he kindly didn't really start cruising until the end, so it was okay. We swam around the pond, stopping a few times to catch our breath and to just look. I had forgotten how much I love swimming in the open water. I had several moments this morning during which I felt so grateful to be alive--to be in the water--to be experiencing the early morning on the pond. Fantastic. I love triathlon for giving me those early morning moments. Without triathlon, I would've been snoozing away this Memorial Day Monday morning. Enough said.

Joesph & Rose Gilio Mem. 5k Race Report

The Kids' Race
Jordan (7) in the green shirt, Noah (5) in the yellow, Lara (3) in the white (not the pink pants)

My kids love coming to this race. It's run by my good friend Michael Gilio in honor of his parents. Mike has kids, and he makes sure this event is kid friendly. This year he had a jumpy castle, a gigantic slide and a popcorn machine. He also runs a kids' race 15 min. before the start of the event. Every kid gets a medal.
It's the best.

I won this race for women.
And where were my little tots when I crossed the line in triumph?
The jumpy castle.
Ha!

I honestly can't believe I won this race. The field was small (about 120 or so competitors) but there were some really strong women runners in that field including a whole bunch of my GNRC clubmates: Maureen, Maria, Tracey and Meredith--to name just a few. These are women I always have to work really hard to beat--and often don't beat-- so I knew I'd have to run run run my butt off to even get in the top 3.

I hadn't planned on running this race, but I thought perhaps it might be good to use it as the tempo part at the end of my weekly long run. Jen kindly agreed. Right after this was settled I wondered what I had just done. I can't just run a race. I must race it. And so this was gonna really hurt.

Jen divided my long run into two 90 minute parts, one to be done Friday night after 5 pm and one the next morning. The last 20 minutes was to be the 5K. Her notes were very clear--do not dip into zone 3 during the first first 110 min. of this run. Do, and you will pay. Fair enough.

I admit I'm not really good about zones. My intentions are good, but I am competitive with myself (aren't we all?) and sometimes the competitive side of me gets hold and hammers the patient, be smart, follow the directions side of me. For this run though, I admit I was pretty darn careful. I'd speed up when I saw my pace was slowing up a hill and then I'd check my heart rate and actually slow down. That takes discipline, I tell you. I chose a very hilly route on Friday night, and it was discouraging to watch my pace slip as I trudged up and up, but couldn't push because the heart rate number was also trudging up.

But the 5K. I was worried about that damn 5K.

I took an ice bath after the 90 min run on Friday night and sipped Endurox while chilling. For a workout that short I wouldn't normally be so recovery-focused, but again, I was scared. The next morning I got up and packed my fuel belt for my 75 min. run. That's right: a fuel belt for an hour and 15 min run. I was being uber careful. No need to get dehydrated before the race.

It has occurred to me that perhaps I should end all of my long runs with a race. I don't think I've ever been so careful about drinking and eating on the run, and recovering after it. Fear is a great motivator. I also noted that running purely in z2 with no z3 exceptions even on hills (okay maybe I dipped there a few times) is rather relaxing. I really got some good thinking done on both runs. Usually I am hyper-focused on my body, my pace, and my level of discomfort. Running in zone 2 allows for some spaciness. It's kind of nice.

I timed my run so I would arrive at the race with 10 min. to start time. I quickly changed and got my number, changed into my racing shoes (which are still trainers, but lighter than my actual trainers), and sucked down a gel. I said hi to the Andy and the kids. Andy was the only one who really acknowledged me because the kids were already partaking in Jumpy Castle fun. I said hi to all of my GNRC comprades, and headed to the line. Let's go!

I had no idea what to expect. So, I expected nothing. The race starter said Go! and I just ran. My legs actually felt fresh--which was weird. I felt ready to run hard. I felt warmed up and strong.
hmmmm.

The first mile has an early bump which makes your heart rate shoot throw the roof, and then a long flattish/downhill stretch. There was a young woman running right beside me for the first mile. She was my main competition, it was pretty clear. However, I also know that my GNRC women friends pace well, and any of them could catch me in the second or third miles. I also was running alongside two of my male GNRC buddies, Jeff and Mike (the Mike who runs the race). They were really pushing the pace, but I felt strong and so I thought, well! Why not? Just go!
First mile: 6:31.

The next mile is flat for the most part. I decided to just try to hold my pace. I edged ahead of the girl next to me and Mike and Jeff. Mike would have none of that, though! He kicked it up a notch and passed me right back. And I passed him back. And he passed me back. It was fun.
Mile 2: 6:35.

This is an out and back course, so the last mile is a gradual uphill, with a downhill bump in the last tenth. I knew this is where I could lose my lead. I knew the girl was only about 5 seconds behind me because I had seen her on the the turn around. I also knew there was no one ahead of me (women, I mean) because a spectator had shouted, There's the first woman! as I ran by the mile 2 mark.

My legs still felt strong and fresh though. The only thing that really hurt was my lungs. I was really sucking wind and my brain kept trying to talk me into slowing down. You've just run 20, just let it go. You are going to barf. You still have another 3/4 mile. Slow Down! But I silenced the brain.
SHUT UP BRAIN.
It shut up.

Mike was still right with me, and I decided to pull away. With a half mile to go I heard very heavy breathing behind me. I was going to be passed. Was it Mike? Was it the girl? Nooo.... this was heavy clomping--the clomping of a person with very long legs. And then the mystery person appeared at my side. Jeff. Well, that makes sense. He's well over 6 ft. Where did he come from? He passed. I passed him back. He passed again and started his kick.
Fuck!
I went for it, but I just couldn't get him. He crossed the line a second ahead of me. I didn't care. I had won, and he had helped me do it!

Last mile 6:40
last tenth: 5:27 pace

That's a PR for me!
I've decided that perhaps running 20 miles before a race is the key...

I want to give a shout out to Mike, for always running an awesome race. The kid stuff rocked, the management and timing perfect, the food really good, and the prizes.... Did I mention I got $50 bucks! Wahoo! Thanks, Mike. And thanks for letting me beat you by a few seconds. :)
Also a shout out to all of my club mates on GNRC. There were many PRs (yeah Tracey and Mel B!) and the competition was great. I love my club.
And thanks to Jen. As always.

The Right to Work Hard--or Not To

All we care about, Sweetie, is that you put in your best effort and you do your best work.

Right?
________________________
Last week when I was getting into the pool for an early morning swim, I had a quick exchange with my swimmer friend, Dwight. He was already in the pool, kicking, and we shouted our hellos.
When he got to the wall he added, "Man, you work hard."
"Thanks," I said. "Yes, I do."
"You never miss a workout."
"Right," I said. "I try not to."
"I sure hope you're really good," he chuckled before pushing off the wall.

hmmm. What do I make of that?

Later, resting between a set, he explained. "I just hope you're good because you work so hard. It would suck to work as hard as you do and then to still suck. You know? All that hard work for nothing..." he smiled, conspiratorially. "But I know you're good. You're good, right?" chuckle chuckle.

hmmm. How do I respond to that?
Do I chuckle too?
"I'm okay. Sometimes I place."
"Oh good," he said. "Good to hear." and he swam on.

_____________

Interesting.
At first I didn't even question this little conversation. It WOULD suck to work really hard and then to suck.
Wouldn't it?
Isn't that why I work hard? To win? To qualify? To make it to Kona? To prove to the world that I am exceptional, a winner, to be envied, the best?

I would be a liar if I said I didn't work hard so I can have a shot at winning. I am competitive. Of course I want to win! But, does that mean if I really don't stand a chance of winning I should not compete? That I shouldn't even try? Do you have to be a certain level of "good" to justify working hard?

Well, you think. Of course not.

But.... after thinking about it I began to realize the ways in which we embrace this thinking.

I have an image in my mind.
It's of a little tyke who works his butt off in Little League, but he's still the worst one on the team. Moms are on the sidelines whispering to each other about how sweet the boy is, how sad that he is just so-- bad. Fathers, perhaps, are less chatty about it. They are just glad it's not their kid.

Another image.

It's of a little tyke who is a rock star on the baseball field, but he just doesn't work at it at all. He's lazy, the moms say. What a waste of talent. The fathers just shake their heads. They are just glad it's not their kid.

So the tenets here seem to be:

It's a waste of talent if you are good at something, yet you don't choose to work hard at it.

and conversely,

It's pathetic when you work your ass off, and yet you suck.

And what is the best type of tyke? The type of tyke we want our kids to be--the type of tyke we want to be? He is the one who has talent and works hard. You need both. Nothing else is worthy.

We believe this about ourselves; we believe this about our children; we believe this about our peers who are working hard next to us in the pool.
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Of course, talent and hard work is a good combination. There's certainly nothing wrong with it.
But, I wonder, what do we do to our own psyches and those of our children by embracing this as the only way worthy of being?

Here are a couple of possible conclusions one might draw based on such thinking:

1. I should only try hard at something if I have potential to be very good at it. If it appears I cannot be good, I should quit.

2. If I don't love to do something, but I have a natural talent for it, I should do it and work hard at it despite my dislike of it.

3. If I work hard at something and it is revealed that I am not good at it, I will be pitied and mocked. Therefore, I shouldn't try at all. It's too risky.

4. If I love to do something, but I am not inherently good at it, I still should not pursue it. I should pursue those things at which I have obvious talent.

I'm sure you can think of a few other conclusions, too.

We spend a lot of time blathering on to each other and to our children about how the most important thing to do is to work hard. Just do our best work. Just put forth our best effort. That it's okay if we fail, it's the effort that counts.

I think maybe we are full of shit.

We are disappointed if our best effort (or the best effort of our children) doesn't produce a win, an A, an AG placing, or a Kona slot. We will be disappointed because this is what is valued by us, and it is in the way we speak, move, and live.

Not a word about learning for the joy of it.
Not a word about playing/competing for the love of it.
Not a word about how the effort we put into something is worthy -- just because to put effort into something is to participate in and engage in life.

I still want to win.
But my effort, and yours, means more than that.

Sudbury Sprint Sprint RR-- or Man, I am a Rock Star

Lately I've been really into the double title. Have you noticed that? So, first I must say that my last post was freaking brilliant, and yet most of you failed to comment on it. Did you notice all of my keenly placed literary references? All of my wit entangled with clear, logical thought? Humph. It must be that I'm so right and so brilliant that you have nothing to say. Or that it was way too long to read. Or that it didn't make as much sense as I thought it did. Or that I got a little to heady on you. Or that you just only like posts about pap smears and tats and other unsavory things. Yeah, I know it. You all have your heads in the gutter. Luckily, I'm a fan of the gutter. My mind actually spends most of its time there. So, back we go. I have a RR to write. I had a really good first race of the season for the most part. The good: 1. I looked super cool in my shark Splish suit and pointy helmet, and Mrs. Zebra (Mzzz Z) (my bike, renamed because she's a Mrs. and she is all black and white) was looking sharp with her spiffy new 404 race wheels. 2. Even though I only wore a swim suit, my privates remained intact when on the bike, and in fact, did not even hurt a smidgen! I am thoroughly broken in and tough as iron down there too. (Sexy, I know.) 3. I beat all of my splits from last year by a lot. I PR'd the whole race by almost three minutes, and it's such a short race that that's a pretty big deal. (Thanks, Jen.) 4. I was the second (I wish blogger would let me make that word blink) female and 15th OA out of a big field. Not sure how big. Maybe 350? Anyway, so cool! I'm very excited about that. Some of the big dogs didn't come out for the race this year (like Jarrod Shoemaker, Alicia Kaye, Ethan Brown and local great Jesse Kropelnicki--who were all there last year) -- but even compared to LAST year's results I would have been the third female according to my time. So yeah me! The bad: 1. I cannot mount or dismount without looking like a tool. This is especially bad because Mrs Z is a cool bike with pretty wheels and I wear a pointy helmet. People with these things should be floating onto their bikes at top speed like witches atop broomsticks. Not me. I stop. get on. get my left foot clipped in. push. roll. get my right foot clipped in. and on and on and on and on. Getting off is even more embarrassingly slow. 2. I had to breathe almost everything stroke toward the end of the swim. I think I kept my pace, but I got sloppy because I was sucking wind so violently. 3. I ran out of T2 WITH MY HELMET ON! Dear God how embarrassing. A nice woman took it from me during the first 10th of a mile of the run course. Duh. Running with a pointy helmet. Can you say, LOSER? 4. I only beat the 3rd place finisher by 3 seconds. That's not really definitive, you know? Overall, though, the race was a huge success. This picture sums up my feelings about the race. If it were a better picture you could seem that I'm like--gleeful. It was taken right after I got on my bike, so I wasn't suffering YET. I really, really do love racing. In this picture, I am, however, suffering. That's pretty clear. At least my suit is cute, right? I honestly did NOT pass out after this shot was taken. I know it looks like I'm about to swoon. As it should be, yes? I'm really catching on to this suffering thing. Here is a brief summary of the race. Well, not brief really. I don't really do brief. Arrival: I lurv my new I-Phone. Got me there without a hitch. Listened to tunes, ate a banana and drank some Powebar Endurance as I drove there. Got there, got my packet and all that jazz, set up my stuff in transition. Naturally I felt the need to chat up everyone in transition. It's what I do. I can't help it. One cool thing: a random woman introduced herself to me and told me she reads my blog. Made me puff up like a peacock! She was very sweet and we talked about TNT, the organization I'm running for this fall in the Dublin Marathon. Warm up. Uneventful. I ran 20 minutes and did a few strides. Then I got in the pool and did a few hundred yards. Then I got out. Then I fucking froze. I was chattering and turning as blue as my shark suit. Finally I went into the locker room and got my sweatshirt, even though the race was about to begin. Everyone kept asking me if I was okay. You know that your lips are blue, right? I have this thing called Raynaud's Disease. Part of it is that I turn blue kinda easily. It's really pretty. I'm sure I looked like a grape with my blue face, lips and blue suit. If you click on the link you can see some cool pics of what happens to my fingers and toes (and other parts of me too, unfortunately) when I get cold or stressed, or in this case, both cold and stressed. The Swim Luckily it was very soon my turn to swim. In this swim you get it in at one end of the pool and zig-zag across eight lanes and under lane lines, completing a 400 by the end. Last year I had a horrible swim during which I had to pass a bunch of people, and I ended up doing a flip turn and pushing off of someone's stomach who was hanging on the wall. I kid you not. It was ugly. This year, though, despite a messed up seed time, things went swimmingly. I got close to the toes of the guy in front of me on the last length, but I did not need to pass him and the person behind me was well behind--. All good. My time was only okay. I stepped out of the pool at 5:29. I think I can swim faster than that, and I'm blaming my slower time on trying to flip turn successfully under the lane lines. It's kinda tough. I worked that swim, hard, though. I was breathing VIOLENTLY when I got out. But at least now I wasn't blue, but red. I ran out of the pool and heard my kids shout GO MOM! Oh, I love that. T1 I was slow, slow, slow. I was all shaky The pool had been warm, and outside it was only in the high 50s with a strong wind. The Bike After an awkward mount I zoomed off on Mrs. Z. We were hauling serious ass. I passed zillions of people. Toward the end of the first loop, though, a woman passed me on a decked out Cervelo and a pointy helmet. Alert! Alert! Do not let her get you! I dropped back and then put down the hammer. It was a seven mile bike. There will be NO passing of moi. NONE. I passed her back and stayed ahead. The only bad part of the ride was that the wind was so strong. It really almost blew me off Mrs. Z a few times. I finished in 19:30 for 7.3 miles. Not too bad for me.... T2 Slow dismount. Slow transition. And I ran out with my helmet still on. Need I say more? The Run After getting rid of my helmet, I began to focus on turning over my legs. I know they call the bike to run a brick for a reason--but MAN--this time my legs really, really felt like they were full of bricks. I was tired! And slow! Ouch! Ouch! After a few minutes I quieted my brain and just focused on turning over my legs as fast as possible. My pace increased. This is a flat run, and I had planned to be totally zippy. I can't say zippiness really occurred. I did manage to average 6:45s, which is not what I had wanted, but was still respectable enough. I finished the run in 14:30 for 2.2 miles The end: 42:06. The hub, the kids and I went out to Dunkin Donuts to celebrate. They had donuts (gross) and I treated myself to a latte and a bagel, which these days, is definitely a treat. Then we came back and I got my award. Yeah! It was a great Mother's Day gift to do so well. Thanks to Jen, my fantastic coach! (By the way, she just wrote a great post called Heart, and you should read it.)