Have you ever been the kind of tired where you just sit and stare into space, half-heartedly trying to make an important decision like: should I eat a bagel or cereal for breakfast, or should I take a shower NOW or wait until after I eat? And, while you are not quite sure what it is that makes these decisions so difficult and momentous, you know without question that they ARE, or must be, because you are struggling with them so...
If you are nodding your head in understanding, you either have kids and an ex-husband or you party too much :-)
I knew this week would be tough in terms of balancing events, training, and sleep... But for several reasons it's been tougher than anticipated. LM's soccer camp, rained out the first nigh, has been going until almost 9 each night.... At which point she is STARVING and completely wound up. As talented as she is as a swimmer and flag football player, we think she may have found her calling in soccer. Today the Brit coaching her group came over to us and asked (insert proper Brit accent here) "does LM play club sock-or?" and was quite surprised to learn that the two days of camp she has attended is the sum total of her soccer experience. He told us that she has a LOT of natural ability and, once she learns the nuances of the game will be really really good. He implored us to get her into club soccer asap.
So, the LM is flying high - headed to EHS in the fall, loving learning soccer, and generally happy as a clam when she is with us. It takes an hour after we get home to calm her down enough for her to even HOPE of falling asleep.
And then there is the BiM. She can't swim because of her endless wrist problem, there is no clear course of treatment or healing time, she feels very isolated from her friends (and she feels like she has less friends than her sister) and like all the attention is on LM right now. And, of course, she is extremely upset about some other issues that I cannot write about due to Captain Stalkerpants.
Add in that BiM appears to be diving headlong into teen-aged, hormonally whacko angst....sheesh. I mean, this is foreign to me. I was miserable as a teen, but that was life, not hormones, lol. I've never been the moody pms-y "crazy pregnant lady" type of female. So, while i've read, with amusement, tales of the crazy mood swings and sudden crying jags of the typical teen female, I've never really experienced it.
Until now. The past two days, BiM has swung from what passes for normal, to regressing to behavior a four-year old would look askance at, to bursting into tears... And everything in between. It is, while humorous, wildly exasperating.
So, with two girls representing the opposite bipolar poles, and my parents in town for a visit (lord do I feel sorry for them!), and the IMKY countdown clock ticking inexorably on.... Plus add a dose of the alternate reality that is having to deal with someone who has money, time, hubris, and nothing to do with any of it.... And I find myself, curiously, tired. And my training is in the crapper this week. Alas, while i am too tired to do anything about it, I am not so tired as to be immune to STRESSING about being 10 weeks out of an IM and not feeling prepared.
But, as any parent can attest, there is only so much stress and so many demands you can juggle before you crumble. So, for the rest of this week I'll harness the flagging battery power and focus it on the girls, who really REALLY need us right now, try to block out the nagging voice that says "you're gonna be WALKING up the "rolling hills" in ten weeks", and do my best to keep counsel unto myself at the swim meet this weekend, lol. Wish me luck.
24 June 2010
21 June 2010
Father's day adventure race
Last spring we signed up for an adventure race on Father's Day, and BiM broke her ankle and spent the summer wearing a boot. This spring we signed up for a Father's day adventure race, and BiM tore something in her wrist and has spent the summer in a wrist cast. This year, we raced anyway. NEXT year, we will save the suspense and worry and sign up MINUS the BiM, lol.
Prepping for an adventure race is not unlike prepping for a triathlon, except your transition area can include chairs, coolers, and even tents, and you usually don't worry about bug spray for tri races.
We made it to Lower Wekiva state park, outside Mouse Town, shortly before team check in began. We signed in for the "sport" division, which is the shorter race (3hr time limit). The Elite race, a 5hr race, had already begun. This was my 1st and Matthew's 2nd adventure race, so of course I had pictured transition like a tri race - limited space, assigned racks for the bikes, restricted entry etc.... Yeah, not so much.
The T area was loosely organized and full of the aforementioned coolers, chairs, spectators and assorted other goo. After you check in as a team you proceed to the team picture area and pose for a picture that is almost instantly put on Facebook. We were somewhat late arriving compared to many teams, so we set up our T on the edge of the designated area, leaning the bikes against a gigantic tree and putting a chair and cooler with our helmets etc., and, of course, a book for BiM for when she was waiting for us during the bike leg (she cannot ride a bike due to the wrist injury).
We saw quite the entertaining variety of outfits - from bike pants to hiking clothing to random spandex on a few who clearly do not own a full length mirror. Matthew had declared we would all wear the obnoxious safety yellow shirts he had made for IMFL last year, so we were VERY easy to see. The race definitely featured a predominance of men. There were several teams that included fathers and sons. We were definitely the only team sporting THREE females, two of whom are pre-teen and one of whom is, how shall we say it, rather petite. Little do people realize that the small one is the toughest one of the four of us.
The race director went over some basics during the pre-race meeting. Unlike most tri pre-race meetings, this one was useful, and would have been even more so had the map reader/navigator (he shall remain nameless, but HE was not a SHE) been paying attention to the talk about the canoeing and navigable part of the river. Ahem. Anyway, after the talk, the team (Team Quadzilla, of course) snarfed down the sandwiches that appeared in their magic lunch boxes (apparently in our house you can put an empty lunchbox on the table at night and, WOW when you go to leave for work or school the next day it will be full of food!) and got in line to pick a marble.
In adventure races, there is no set order of disciplines so each team picks a marble to find out what we start with... In our case, the first wave of canoeing. Now, we had four people in one canoe, but only two people were allowed to paddle... a convenient thing, because two of us would not be happy paddling hard for an hour. In fact, one of us would probably prefer to float aimlessly for days waiting to be rescued rather than paddle hard for an hour. So, the two paddlers were paddling a boat with 200lbs of dead weight, 125 of which was helpfully giving navigational pointers and instruction, and 75 of which had to pee for the last 45 mins of the leg. Hm, maybe it was more like 210lbs of ballast.
Undaunted, TQ set out at a good clip, following the navigational direction of the male member of the team straight into a shallow dead end ten minutes after we set out. Sigh. Ten mins later we were back on course and headed directly into the current to the first two check points. Let me tell you, that paddling stuff is hard. I formed, puffed up, and popped two nice blisters on my thumbs and two others on each hand reached that critical point of blisterhood that they really hurt but never popped.
Sweat poured off of both paddlers. The helpful ballast both drained their camelbacks and declared a need for the portapotties. After grabbing the first two points we zoomed back downstream, laughed at the howls as we passed the finish point (porta potties!!!!) and headed for the 3rd check point. All hope of reaching the 4th ended :30 after we started when we zigged rather than zagged and lost 20mins, lol.
As we pulled back to shore a few mins past the hour mark and hauled the canoe up, the girls sprinted to take care of business and refill their camelbacks. We turned in our passports and off on the orienteering/run we went. Now, three of TQ can run and like to do so. One of us would rather be eaten alive by red ants than run a mile in the heat. This dichotomy became readily apparent 500 yards onto the course. Teams are supposed to stay together on the course, which was a bit of a challenge for us. LM took turns running ahead with one or the other of us while the other remained back with BiM, proceeding at a turtle safe pace. That is one child I I'll never worry about passing out from overexertion.
At one point on the course we told BiM to park it under a tree and ran ahead and across a stream ("stream" in this case meaning yucky stinky curdled water mud bog) that hit me almost thigh high.
That means LM had plenty of coverage to pee, which she did, giggling the entire way. She also finished her camelback AGAIN, and we refilled it from the golf cart that came by carrying ice and water. Continued exhortations, occasional threats, and promises of a chocolate milk and cookie waiting back at camp created absolutely NO sense of urgency in BiM and we rolled in 10 mins late off the run and under the gun for the bike.
We traveled lightly for the bike, leaving BiM happily under a tree with her book and chocolate milk. LM is a trooper on a mountain bike and we flew to the first two check points, in spite of the VERY sandy track. Now, at the pre-race meeting the director mentioned that two of the check points on the bike course would be the ones to skip if short on time, as the track to reach them was extremely challenging. Mr. Navigator missed that part too, and with 30 mins left we headed off for the two remaining check points.
Let me just say, LM is the toughest human I know. There were teams walking, teams sprawled in the shade with their heads ins their hands, and teams who didn't even try for all the check points. Not us. LM pushed herself to the redline and wheezed her way across it, hammering the entire way trying to make the cut off.... Which we would have, had we not taken a sliiiiiight detour that probably cost us 15 mins. As it was, we came across the line at the 3:13 mark and finished 31 out of 53 teams in spite of dragging BiM through the run.
The funniest part of the race occurred in the last gasp of the bike, when LM was leading and hit a horrid sandy patch and jumped off her bike to avoid beefing it... Only to get completely flattened by Matthew, who was too tired to change course and avoid her and thumped into her with his tire, sending her flying horizontally and face first into the sand. If looks could have killed, I'd be writing Matthew's eulogy.
All in all, it was a lot of fun. Three out of four of us want to do one again, and four out of four of us think the fourth person would make a great support crew and picture taker at the next one. No soft-pedaling pretense in this family. Meanwhile, LM is my idol, and she certainly left a huge impression on all the adults she ran and biked by on the course :)
20 June 2010
Father's Day
It's hard enough to parent your own demon spawn... can you imagine the challenges someone faces walking into the lives of children aged 10 and 8? At least you can blame yourself for the idiosyncracies of your bio-kids (you're raising them, and YOU picked the other contributor to the gene pool, regret it or not).... when you pop, unannounced and unexpectedly, into the lives of semi-humans who've spent a decade or more having their personalities molded by two people (at least one of whom you dislike on general principles) it has to be a daunting prospect.
Three years ago this fall, my husband, Matthew met two somewhat fragile young ladies. Big Mini (BiM) was an angry little girl, having had a rough go of it with the dancer and his children (through no fault of the latter, frankly). BiM felt very unaccepted and had a huge chip on her shoulders. Little Mini (LM) has always been a more trusting child, but she too was a bit guarded after the demise of the previous relationship.
M initially asked all three of us to dinner (homemade pizza... he IS italian, lol). Gee, bring my wary children on a 1st date.... gee, how can I say this politely... are you freaking loony?! So, M's first real exposure to them came when he picked me up for what would be our only real "date" (defined as requiring a baby sitter and involving clothing other than spandex or lycra). When he came in to pick me up, he told the girls that they should each ask him 5 questions... ANY questions. (Insert stunned and quizzical looks on the girls' faces here). The only one I really remember was "do you floss."
A true harbinger of how my kids feel about someone is whether they want to go anywhere "alone" with that person. At no point prior to Matthew did either girl EVER want to so much as go to publix alone with anyone besides me (or their biofather). Fast forward two+ years, and the girls jockey for time alone with Matthew to do things he has carved out as "traditions" -- LM loves Archie comics, and the two of them traipse off to publics in search of new ones; BiM loves to see action movies that are a little too advanced for LM, and claims Matthew as her movie date. Etc.
How a man, who has never had children of his own, can enter the lives of my two girls and completely capture their hearts in a very short time is very hard to articulate. Both girls trust him implicitly (they will freely admit they do not trust their biofather, at all). They confide in him, and talk to him about topics ranging from politics to relationships. He's made a point of taking them, individually, to breakfast before school, or to the bookstore, etc to have one on one conversations and uninterrupted time. (Of course I benefit from that because then I get the same with the other girl...)
How did he do it? By being genuine. Open. Affectionate. Honest. Supportive. Accepting. Tolerant. Patient. Firm. Consistent. Considerate. He comes to their activities and games. He coaches their football team. He shares 100% in the thrilling side of parenting -- running errands, driving to and from practices, appointments, and school, helping with homework and projects etc. The girls know they can count on him. They know he means what he says. They know, without a doubt, that he loves them (probably even as much as he loves Chuck, the chocolate stinkador, er, labrador).
My children are the most blessed children in the world when it comes to Matthew's presence in their lives. He has encouraged them to be less concerned with what people think and more open and joyful and free. He leads them by example... they now believe that fathers who don't burst into song at the starbucks drive through, or don't get pedicures and paint their toenails, are the stodgy weird ones to be laughed at... (just PLEASE don't sing around any cute boys, or BiM will spontaneously combust in horror).
So, on this hallmark holiday, as we head to Ocala to participate, as a Team, in a Father's Day Adventure Race, I want all of you to know what a special man my Matthew is, and what a fantastic Father my children have in their lives thanks to him :-)
Happy Father's Day everyone!
19 June 2010
Today's inspiration
As the 10 day stretch of juggling marches on, I found myself behind the 8 ball from the start today as my alarm, while set, was not actually turned on...
thankfully, Sabre's mindless scratching, followed by the traditional lengthy groan Shepherds emit when laying down after a tough night of sleep, woke me up.
Twenty minutes late and in that state of adrenaline spiked shaky semi-awake quivering that accompanies a sudden wake up call from a deep sleep, I skittered downstairs, sucked down some hot chocolate, filled a water bottle (not with wine, although I briefly considered it) and jumped on the trainer. (Note to self: hill work at 5a with hot chocolate milk sloshing in your stomach is not an example of evolved brain power).
One video later I raced into the kitchen, tossed a bagel in the toaster, stripped off the sweaty clothing and struggled into a still damp swim suit (the 2nd of FIVE clothing changes before 930a today, btw), filled two more water bottles (dammit, still no wine), grabbed the bagel, tripped over two of the three dogs, vindictively moved the gate blocking the dogs from racing upstairs and jumping on Matthew (hey, HEY HEY... DAD! Wake up! It's GREAT, the day is HERE!). If you've never heard three large dogs (83, 86 and 100lbs) crashing up a flight of stairs, jostling for position around the corner, and trying to fit, three wide, through a door frame, tails wagging madly and smack talk emitting from both shepherds, you really are missing out.
As I pulled into the parking at EHS, I was feeling a little sorry for myself. Tired, rushed, always feeling like I should be doing something else (if I'm training, I feel bad I'm not ______, if I'm ______ I feel bad I'm not training, sigh), and slightly put out with life, I was debating how much to swim and whether to run, as planned, afterwards, or whether to just take a nap on the bleachers while LM hacked germs, er, swam with her teammates.
Then... I saw my friend's car. T is a few years younger than me, and our kids went to school together for years before going to different schools for 7th grade. Her husband has gotten into running, as has her son, and she has started doing some 5ks etc as well. Now, T has, to my knowledge, not been active in athletics as an adult, but she came out to IMFL with her son to cheer me on last Nov and cheered on her husband in his first marathon in January, and decided she wanted to give it a shot.
We met at UNF back in January for her first time in a pool to swim laps, and worked a bit on technique, but her endurance was really the issue... she could make it part way across the pool swimming freestyle before having to switch to breast or back.
She thought about trying the Meek and Mighty triathlon for beginners/kids at St. Anthony's in April, but had not gotten a road bike in time... and I thought maybe her interest had waned.
Over the next few months T talked about wanting to do one of the sprint tris, but I wasn't sure if she would summons the nerve, even with our encouragement. Matthew and I are always cautiously enthused when friends or acquaintances ask for help or seem interested in trying a tri or running race, as we will gladly offer anything we have by way of knowledge, equipment, or encouragement.... but we've learned not to invest too much of ourselves into it at first, as often the friend decides to go in a different direction (usually the couch, with a beer...)
One thing I've also noticed is that often newcomers or people who don't consider themselves competitive think we won't be excited or enthused about their progression because they aren't front of the packers etc. That always saddens me, because I SO enjoy the personal accomplishments of others, especially newcomers or people who are less athletically...experienced..., just as much, sometimes more, than I do my own.
I EXPECT myself to be tough, to work hard, and to do it even though it hurts and takes time and effort. But I find myself far more excited when I see someone else doing it, because it makes my pursuits seem less lonely and less... freakish.... compared to most of the rest of the population. Kindred souls, to an extent... the instant respect I feel for someone who is willing to push him/herself just because they've decided to see what they can do.
So, we were enthused every time T told us about a run, or bike, or swim, but cautiously so. And then, without telling anyone until the day before, she signed up for the first bfas in May. While the swim was in quite rough seas and she, along with a number of others, had to head back to shore without completing it, T swallowed her disappointment, put on her helmet, and completed the bike and run course. When I talked to her afterwards, I knew how disappointed she was... and I was very concerned she would give up. I mentioned that the Hammerheads do ocean swims on Sunday mornings, but I honestly never expected her to go. (Hell, *I* don't go very often, lol).
The very next day, she went. And she swam more than the distance of the day before's race. And she went the next weekend, and the next.
And she entered and finished Bfas #2, with a big, tired smile on her face. AND I think she swam the ocean swim the next day. And she rode 15 miles over the Palm Valley Bridge last week.
And today she met me at EHS at 7a, and, jumped in the pool with me and swam for 45 minutes, and I had a grin on my dumb tired face the entire time, although she probably couldn't see it as she discovered a coffee filled empty stomach and swimming make for some interesting nausea, lol.
And my mood changed immediately (I even sucked it up and ran afterwards). Those of us who have some experience as adult athletes probably forget how intimidating it can be to get involved in another sport... never mind THREE different pursuits in one, each with its own rules and culture and equipment and foibles. For T to walk out on a strange pool deck at 7a on a Saturday morning and jump in a pool and swim, with no training plan she feels compelled to follow, no coach yelling at her, no expectations she is afraid to disappoint -- to walk out there FOR HERSELF... that makes her a far tougher lady than I. To tackle a triathlon, fall short of your goal, and then turn around, address your weakness, and do it again and finish 4 weeks later... THAT is a triumph of spirit and will.
T is one of the people I think about when I am whiny and whimpery about the day's training. I'll probably write about the others at some point as well... but today I wanted to thank T, especially, for giving me a boost of inspiration every time you text me about a swim, or ride, or run. You're awesome!
thankfully, Sabre's mindless scratching, followed by the traditional lengthy groan Shepherds emit when laying down after a tough night of sleep, woke me up.
Twenty minutes late and in that state of adrenaline spiked shaky semi-awake quivering that accompanies a sudden wake up call from a deep sleep, I skittered downstairs, sucked down some hot chocolate, filled a water bottle (not with wine, although I briefly considered it) and jumped on the trainer. (Note to self: hill work at 5a with hot chocolate milk sloshing in your stomach is not an example of evolved brain power).
One video later I raced into the kitchen, tossed a bagel in the toaster, stripped off the sweaty clothing and struggled into a still damp swim suit (the 2nd of FIVE clothing changes before 930a today, btw), filled two more water bottles (dammit, still no wine), grabbed the bagel, tripped over two of the three dogs, vindictively moved the gate blocking the dogs from racing upstairs and jumping on Matthew (hey, HEY HEY... DAD! Wake up! It's GREAT, the day is HERE!). If you've never heard three large dogs (83, 86 and 100lbs) crashing up a flight of stairs, jostling for position around the corner, and trying to fit, three wide, through a door frame, tails wagging madly and smack talk emitting from both shepherds, you really are missing out.
As I pulled into the parking at EHS, I was feeling a little sorry for myself. Tired, rushed, always feeling like I should be doing something else (if I'm training, I feel bad I'm not ______, if I'm ______ I feel bad I'm not training, sigh), and slightly put out with life, I was debating how much to swim and whether to run, as planned, afterwards, or whether to just take a nap on the bleachers while LM hacked germs, er, swam with her teammates.
Then... I saw my friend's car. T is a few years younger than me, and our kids went to school together for years before going to different schools for 7th grade. Her husband has gotten into running, as has her son, and she has started doing some 5ks etc as well. Now, T has, to my knowledge, not been active in athletics as an adult, but she came out to IMFL with her son to cheer me on last Nov and cheered on her husband in his first marathon in January, and decided she wanted to give it a shot.
We met at UNF back in January for her first time in a pool to swim laps, and worked a bit on technique, but her endurance was really the issue... she could make it part way across the pool swimming freestyle before having to switch to breast or back.
She thought about trying the Meek and Mighty triathlon for beginners/kids at St. Anthony's in April, but had not gotten a road bike in time... and I thought maybe her interest had waned.
Over the next few months T talked about wanting to do one of the sprint tris, but I wasn't sure if she would summons the nerve, even with our encouragement. Matthew and I are always cautiously enthused when friends or acquaintances ask for help or seem interested in trying a tri or running race, as we will gladly offer anything we have by way of knowledge, equipment, or encouragement.... but we've learned not to invest too much of ourselves into it at first, as often the friend decides to go in a different direction (usually the couch, with a beer...)
One thing I've also noticed is that often newcomers or people who don't consider themselves competitive think we won't be excited or enthused about their progression because they aren't front of the packers etc. That always saddens me, because I SO enjoy the personal accomplishments of others, especially newcomers or people who are less athletically...experienced..., just as much, sometimes more, than I do my own.
I EXPECT myself to be tough, to work hard, and to do it even though it hurts and takes time and effort. But I find myself far more excited when I see someone else doing it, because it makes my pursuits seem less lonely and less... freakish.... compared to most of the rest of the population. Kindred souls, to an extent... the instant respect I feel for someone who is willing to push him/herself just because they've decided to see what they can do.
So, we were enthused every time T told us about a run, or bike, or swim, but cautiously so. And then, without telling anyone until the day before, she signed up for the first bfas in May. While the swim was in quite rough seas and she, along with a number of others, had to head back to shore without completing it, T swallowed her disappointment, put on her helmet, and completed the bike and run course. When I talked to her afterwards, I knew how disappointed she was... and I was very concerned she would give up. I mentioned that the Hammerheads do ocean swims on Sunday mornings, but I honestly never expected her to go. (Hell, *I* don't go very often, lol).
The very next day, she went. And she swam more than the distance of the day before's race. And she went the next weekend, and the next.
And she entered and finished Bfas #2, with a big, tired smile on her face. AND I think she swam the ocean swim the next day. And she rode 15 miles over the Palm Valley Bridge last week.
And today she met me at EHS at 7a, and, jumped in the pool with me and swam for 45 minutes, and I had a grin on my dumb tired face the entire time, although she probably couldn't see it as she discovered a coffee filled empty stomach and swimming make for some interesting nausea, lol.
And my mood changed immediately (I even sucked it up and ran afterwards). Those of us who have some experience as adult athletes probably forget how intimidating it can be to get involved in another sport... never mind THREE different pursuits in one, each with its own rules and culture and equipment and foibles. For T to walk out on a strange pool deck at 7a on a Saturday morning and jump in a pool and swim, with no training plan she feels compelled to follow, no coach yelling at her, no expectations she is afraid to disappoint -- to walk out there FOR HERSELF... that makes her a far tougher lady than I. To tackle a triathlon, fall short of your goal, and then turn around, address your weakness, and do it again and finish 4 weeks later... THAT is a triumph of spirit and will.
T is one of the people I think about when I am whiny and whimpery about the day's training. I'll probably write about the others at some point as well... but today I wanted to thank T, especially, for giving me a boost of inspiration every time you text me about a swim, or ride, or run. You're awesome!
17 June 2010
Juggle, juggle, juggle
Ok, somewhere in my delusional state I actually thought the summer schedule would be easier to juggle.... no school activities, just swim practice and training and trips to the beach or pool, right?
Yeah, about those deep-rooted delusions...
Let's examine a few facts. IMKY is in August. We are cruising rapidly into July. IMKY has the ubiquitous "rolling hills." Uh huh. I just did the spinnervals "race" video of the IMKY bike course. They might be "rollers" to a mountain goat or Colorado native (or me, back in my PA days), but to someone who has lived in Florida for 16 years, those are HILLS. You say Toe-May-Toe, I say HILLS.
Back to the facts. IMKY, has 112 miles of biking on the rills (hollers?). IMKY is going to be hot as crap. I am still too close to the death march that was the Fla 70.3 run in May to not have a healthy fear of/respect for what IMKY is going to feel like, absent a sudden, historic early fall.
So, based on those facts, I have some serious training requirements to fit in in the next few weeks. (Deep breath.... going to my happy place for a moment to quell the rising panic...)
Piece of cake, right?
So, thanks to the minis' 933rd cruise of the year and swapping days to accommodate it, they returned to me "early" (meaning before the usual Sunday night). So, this training week ended Wednesday at 7. Let's take a look at the uncluttered summer schedule we have for the next ten days:
Today: swim practice 7-9 (assuming either kid is healthy enough to go, sigh), minis' hair cuts 1-2 and 2-3, a/c repair man 530-7 (which means 8-10, or, more likely, Friday)
Friday: swim practice either 7-9 or 4-6, otherwise fairly unencumbered with children related goo.
Saturday: swim practice 8-10, various family activities
Sunday: Adventure Race in Ocala. Leave 8:30a, return after 5p
Monday: Swim practice in two different locations (EHS and JCDS) from 7-9a and 715-9a. BiM volunteers at a camp at EHS from 9-12, LM has soccer camp in Mandarin from 5-830.
Tuesday: Swim practice in two different locations from 7-9a and 715-9a. LM orthodontist appointment at 9:45. BiM volunteers at a camp from 9-12, LM has soccer camp in Mandarin from 5-830. My parents arrive from PA somewhere in there.
Wednesday and Thursday: same as Monday.
Friday: Swim practice for BiM 7-9a, BiM volunteers at a camp from 9-12 and has Drs appt at 11a, LM swim meet at Bolles starting sometime around 11:30 and probably lasting until 3:30, LiM has soccer camp in Mandarin from 5-830.
Saturday: Swim meet at Bolles and (maybe) a 5k race that evening
Sunday: Swim meet at Bolles, girls return to biof's at 7.
Now, it's tough enough to fit training of any length around normal kids' schedules. Add to that visitors AND a week with a schedule-on-steroids, and I am really wondering how to fit things in without giving up 75% of my sleep.
"Well, Sara, that's easy to fix!" you might think -- leave the kids with the parents and go train. "What a novel idea!" I would reply, except I have a real problem (call it a hang up, it won't offend me) with taking time away from family time to train. Since I don't "have" the girls full-time, and especially since they will be gone at practices and camps so much this week, I am almost incapable of ditching them for what little time we have to go train. So, yes, I create my own stress on this topic, and I know that... but my ego says I should be able to do it all and my conscience says I am a Mommy first and everything else second... so let the anxiety attacks roll in and crank up the early alarm clock... :-)
Updated note: no swim practice due to hackage, so my Thursday has looked like this: up before 6 to make M's lunch (yes, I am one of THOSE wives) and clean up the kitchen, feed and walk the dogs (do arm strengthening exercises by preventing the Sheps from eating Hannibal's little yorkie with a death wish), eat, jump on the elliptical (after quipping to Matthew that LM usually wakes up five minutes after I start, so I don't know why I was rushing.... and sure enough, 4 minutes later down wandered a bleary eyed LM), jump off the elliptical 15 minutes later to check on the hacking, goo spewing BiM, who then declared "Mommy, my ear is super clogged and it hurts!".... causing me to flash back to having an ear drum burst from congestion.... hustle BiM downstairs and pump her full of decongestants and expectorants, after much gnashing of teeth and hack interrupted protestations.... fetch two glasses of chocolate milk.... jump back on elliptical... encourage LM to take the sheps out back and play... jump OFF the elliptical to prevent Sabre from going out the window after LM locked him out of the kitchen to get a head start into the yard... hug the hacking BiM...jump BACK on the elliptical..."mommy, are you almost finished, I'm hungry...."... back off the elliptical and into the kitchen (neither barefoot, nor pregnant thankfully) to make some breakfast (no, NOT muffins, cinnamon rolls, or donuts, as they've been eating for the past ten days elsewhere)...
and, so it goes. The Motherhood version of interval training, right?
Yeah, about those deep-rooted delusions...
Let's examine a few facts. IMKY is in August. We are cruising rapidly into July. IMKY has the ubiquitous "rolling hills." Uh huh. I just did the spinnervals "race" video of the IMKY bike course. They might be "rollers" to a mountain goat or Colorado native (or me, back in my PA days), but to someone who has lived in Florida for 16 years, those are HILLS. You say Toe-May-Toe, I say HILLS.
Back to the facts. IMKY, has 112 miles of biking on the rills (hollers?). IMKY is going to be hot as crap. I am still too close to the death march that was the Fla 70.3 run in May to not have a healthy fear of/respect for what IMKY is going to feel like, absent a sudden, historic early fall.
So, based on those facts, I have some serious training requirements to fit in in the next few weeks. (Deep breath.... going to my happy place for a moment to quell the rising panic...)
Piece of cake, right?
So, thanks to the minis' 933rd cruise of the year and swapping days to accommodate it, they returned to me "early" (meaning before the usual Sunday night). So, this training week ended Wednesday at 7. Let's take a look at the uncluttered summer schedule we have for the next ten days:
Today: swim practice 7-9 (assuming either kid is healthy enough to go, sigh), minis' hair cuts 1-2 and 2-3, a/c repair man 530-7 (which means 8-10, or, more likely, Friday)
Friday: swim practice either 7-9 or 4-6, otherwise fairly unencumbered with children related goo.
Saturday: swim practice 8-10, various family activities
Sunday: Adventure Race in Ocala. Leave 8:30a, return after 5p
Monday: Swim practice in two different locations (EHS and JCDS) from 7-9a and 715-9a. BiM volunteers at a camp at EHS from 9-12, LM has soccer camp in Mandarin from 5-830.
Tuesday: Swim practice in two different locations from 7-9a and 715-9a. LM orthodontist appointment at 9:45. BiM volunteers at a camp from 9-12, LM has soccer camp in Mandarin from 5-830. My parents arrive from PA somewhere in there.
Wednesday and Thursday: same as Monday.
Friday: Swim practice for BiM 7-9a, BiM volunteers at a camp from 9-12 and has Drs appt at 11a, LM swim meet at Bolles starting sometime around 11:30 and probably lasting until 3:30, LiM has soccer camp in Mandarin from 5-830.
Saturday: Swim meet at Bolles and (maybe) a 5k race that evening
Sunday: Swim meet at Bolles, girls return to biof's at 7.
Now, it's tough enough to fit training of any length around normal kids' schedules. Add to that visitors AND a week with a schedule-on-steroids, and I am really wondering how to fit things in without giving up 75% of my sleep.
"Well, Sara, that's easy to fix!" you might think -- leave the kids with the parents and go train. "What a novel idea!" I would reply, except I have a real problem (call it a hang up, it won't offend me) with taking time away from family time to train. Since I don't "have" the girls full-time, and especially since they will be gone at practices and camps so much this week, I am almost incapable of ditching them for what little time we have to go train. So, yes, I create my own stress on this topic, and I know that... but my ego says I should be able to do it all and my conscience says I am a Mommy first and everything else second... so let the anxiety attacks roll in and crank up the early alarm clock... :-)
Updated note: no swim practice due to hackage, so my Thursday has looked like this: up before 6 to make M's lunch (yes, I am one of THOSE wives) and clean up the kitchen, feed and walk the dogs (do arm strengthening exercises by preventing the Sheps from eating Hannibal's little yorkie with a death wish), eat, jump on the elliptical (after quipping to Matthew that LM usually wakes up five minutes after I start, so I don't know why I was rushing.... and sure enough, 4 minutes later down wandered a bleary eyed LM), jump off the elliptical 15 minutes later to check on the hacking, goo spewing BiM, who then declared "Mommy, my ear is super clogged and it hurts!".... causing me to flash back to having an ear drum burst from congestion.... hustle BiM downstairs and pump her full of decongestants and expectorants, after much gnashing of teeth and hack interrupted protestations.... fetch two glasses of chocolate milk.... jump back on elliptical... encourage LM to take the sheps out back and play... jump OFF the elliptical to prevent Sabre from going out the window after LM locked him out of the kitchen to get a head start into the yard... hug the hacking BiM...jump BACK on the elliptical..."mommy, are you almost finished, I'm hungry...."... back off the elliptical and into the kitchen (neither barefoot, nor pregnant thankfully) to make some breakfast (no, NOT muffins, cinnamon rolls, or donuts, as they've been eating for the past ten days elsewhere)...
and, so it goes. The Motherhood version of interval training, right?
15 June 2010
the debate...
It's 102' outside. IM Louisville is in 74 days, aka August. There is at least some chance that this weather will replicate itself at that race, and I can certainly expect upper 80s-mid 90s and humid humid humid.
I know this, which is why tomorrow I am planning, hoping, supposed to go ride 3 loops of the Baldwin Trail (87 miles, if you're counting). I need bike time in the elements. And, I am dreading it.
This is not a normal attitude for me. Usually I psych myself up for the challenge and go into it positive and determined.
But... I'm tired. Mentally, physically, emotionally... and I'm battling a case of the negatives. The girls went on a cruise (they go on 3-5 a YEAR, and have for the last 5+ years, so it's not as special as it sounds), missed their football playoffs, and came back sick and (once again) loaded with expensive jewelry the exh bought them on the trip.
To make it worse, their personalities change perceptibly when they spend an extended time with him. They, in Matthew's and my opinion, become spoiled, lazy, and generally unmotivated. They spend their time eating (crap) and watching tv or playing on the computer. The excuses not to go to swim practice, while varying in frequency, appear regularly. It's distressing to watch, and sometimes I feel like I'm on an emotional rollercoaster trying to keep up. Words don't really do it justice, but any divorced parent will nod their head in agreement that their kids' personas change with extended exposure to the other parent. When those changes reflect back personality traits you find particularly abhorrent or alien, it can be very emotionally draining. And, since I am given to over-analyze at times, these changes scare the hell out of me, as I wonder which path the girls will end up following permanently as they get older.
It's weird how disciplined I can be as an athlete, yet sometimes my own emotions and brain will impede me physically. Factor in lack of sleep, and my poor thought and decision making processes just whir pointlessly in an endless circle, not unlike dealing with my youngest, who has been known to engage in conversations that go something like this:
Little Mini (LM): "I want to wear my white capris"
Me: "The white capris are in the wash. Wear the blue capris."
LM: "I don't want to wear the blue capris. I want to wear the white capris."
Me: "Didn't we just discuss this? The choices are, blue capris, or NOTHING."
LM: "But I want to wear the WHITE ones. Why won't you help me decide what to wear?!"
So the triathlon conversation goes something like this:
Me: "I need to do a long bike."
Me: "It's hot and my legs are dead. I don't feel like doing a long bike."
Me: "If you don't do a long bike tomorrow, you won't get another chance for ten days."
Me: "But I'm tired. I just don't know if I can do it!"
Me: "If you don't, you'll get fat, and you'll never finish IMKY"
Me: "But I don't want to get fat, and I WANT to finish IMKY"
Me: "Then do the long bike!"
Me: "But it's hot and my legs are dead! I don't feel like doing a long bike"
etc.
Now, don't get me wrong. It's either the Baldwin trail or some gawd-awful 3 or 4 hour trainer video, so its not like I'm taking the day off if I wuss out of the out-door ride. And, maybe after a good night's sleep (HA) and some perspective, I'll be gung ho for the trail and immune to worrying about the girls. In the mean time, I'll just keep whirring aimlessly, wishing the variables would change in the equation so I could reach the conclusion I want to reach :-)
I know this, which is why tomorrow I am planning, hoping, supposed to go ride 3 loops of the Baldwin Trail (87 miles, if you're counting). I need bike time in the elements. And, I am dreading it.
This is not a normal attitude for me. Usually I psych myself up for the challenge and go into it positive and determined.
But... I'm tired. Mentally, physically, emotionally... and I'm battling a case of the negatives. The girls went on a cruise (they go on 3-5 a YEAR, and have for the last 5+ years, so it's not as special as it sounds), missed their football playoffs, and came back sick and (once again) loaded with expensive jewelry the exh bought them on the trip.
To make it worse, their personalities change perceptibly when they spend an extended time with him. They, in Matthew's and my opinion, become spoiled, lazy, and generally unmotivated. They spend their time eating (crap) and watching tv or playing on the computer. The excuses not to go to swim practice, while varying in frequency, appear regularly. It's distressing to watch, and sometimes I feel like I'm on an emotional rollercoaster trying to keep up. Words don't really do it justice, but any divorced parent will nod their head in agreement that their kids' personas change with extended exposure to the other parent. When those changes reflect back personality traits you find particularly abhorrent or alien, it can be very emotionally draining. And, since I am given to over-analyze at times, these changes scare the hell out of me, as I wonder which path the girls will end up following permanently as they get older.
It's weird how disciplined I can be as an athlete, yet sometimes my own emotions and brain will impede me physically. Factor in lack of sleep, and my poor thought and decision making processes just whir pointlessly in an endless circle, not unlike dealing with my youngest, who has been known to engage in conversations that go something like this:
Little Mini (LM): "I want to wear my white capris"
Me: "The white capris are in the wash. Wear the blue capris."
LM: "I don't want to wear the blue capris. I want to wear the white capris."
Me: "Didn't we just discuss this? The choices are, blue capris, or NOTHING."
LM: "But I want to wear the WHITE ones. Why won't you help me decide what to wear?!"
So the triathlon conversation goes something like this:
Me: "I need to do a long bike."
Me: "It's hot and my legs are dead. I don't feel like doing a long bike."
Me: "If you don't do a long bike tomorrow, you won't get another chance for ten days."
Me: "But I'm tired. I just don't know if I can do it!"
Me: "If you don't, you'll get fat, and you'll never finish IMKY"
Me: "But I don't want to get fat, and I WANT to finish IMKY"
Me: "Then do the long bike!"
Me: "But it's hot and my legs are dead! I don't feel like doing a long bike"
etc.
Now, don't get me wrong. It's either the Baldwin trail or some gawd-awful 3 or 4 hour trainer video, so its not like I'm taking the day off if I wuss out of the out-door ride. And, maybe after a good night's sleep (HA) and some perspective, I'll be gung ho for the trail and immune to worrying about the girls. In the mean time, I'll just keep whirring aimlessly, wishing the variables would change in the equation so I could reach the conclusion I want to reach :-)
A little about me
I'm considering starting this blog because a) I love to write and have often used writing as a means to blow off steam and sort my thoughts and emotions out and b) my tribuddy Marni kind of encouraged me to do so. We'll see how it goes and if I actually stick with it.
I guess I should start by talking a bit about myself. I'm old (42), I have two daughters (currently 12 and 11), one husband (we married in 2008 in the best decision I've ever made), three large dogs (Chuck, the 11yo kindly, stinky, perpetually happy, prolifically shedding chocolate lab; Mia, the 6yo, loyal, vigilant, athletic, always slightly worried about something, fear-biting German Shepherd; and Sabre,the 3yo, never-quite-outgrew-his-puppyhood, snuggly, spastic, gigantic nosed black German Shepherd), and I've made a lot of crappy decisions in the past that still resonate to this day(part of the ubiquitous "why").
I grew up in a small town outside of Reading, PA, and attended college at Bucknell University. Athletics were always a huge part of my life ( some would say too huge) - year round swimming began at 7, injuries began with gusto at 15, and most of my athletic life after that has fallen along the continuum of injury, recovery, and desperately trying not to trip across the delicate line of causing another injury.
I swam and ran track and cross country in high school; swam and played water polo in college. As an all-American goalie I played briefly with the US National team before(sing along here) an injury derailed my progress and I ultimately allowed lack of support and lagging confidence to push me away from serious pursuit of the sport.
Triathlon made a brief appearance in college in the form of a sprint triathlon somewhere in Pa. I don't remember much about it, except I was stunned at mile 1 of the run to discover it was not mile 3, a theme that continues to this day.
I married youngish (22) and it was, as many such things are, a royal mistake. I've been divorced coming up on 11 years this November, a number that probably shocks some given the continued angst surrounding dealings with my exh. While that is a topic I could blog about ad nauseum, I will keep the references to a minimum, as my exh is a world class stalker and will certainly find this blog sooner or later. When I say "world class" I refer to, for example, the 3" or more stack of "documentary evidence" (we called it the manifesto) he presented to the counselor I tried to take the girls to last year. The manifesto contained emails from everyone ranging from my own parents/family, to friends, to several ex-boyfriends my exh has befriended after I broke up with each, etc dating back to at least 1998. Apparently he has spent at least part of our marriage and all of our divorce saving emails TO me (from a variety of sources), FROM me, and, of course, ABOUT me. I didn't find it nearly as hilarious as the counselor or Matthew seemed to....
But I digress. I've lived in PA, CA, NJ, Miami, Key Largo, and Jacksonville. The latter has been home since 1999, and this is where we will remain, absent anyone's untimely demise, until my youngest daughter turns 18 and/or Matthew can retire from CSX.
During the first 7 years in Jacksonville I did a sprint tri (the Bfas) every year or two or three, and ran a few road races (5k distance only). I didn't "train" per se -- I never ran, and did mostly treadmill or stationary bike for exercise. Through several poor choices in boyfriends over those 7 years I found myself contorting myself away from my true self and into gumby like shapes trying to be the person the mistake of the moment wanted me to be, or thought I should be, or whatever. I morphed, or tried to, into, in order of boyfriend, a person with no defining interests, a wakeboarder/biker chic (the wakeboarding was great, and I do miss that), and a ballroom dancer (for some reason I'm told I dance from the shoulders, like an athlete, instead of from the hips, like a dancer. Well, DUH. By the way, of all the environments I've tried to assimilate into, the dancing one was by far the most toxic, strangely enough).
I worked a variety of jobs too... freelance reporter/features writer, HS and Middle School swim coach (7 years), part-time attorney (briefly)... surely something is missing but that's all I am coming up with right now, lol. I shunned full-time work because of my bizarro custody schedule -- during those years I had the girls F-M and the exh had them the other days (now we each "have" them for a week at a time). Every week. For seven years. Long story, moral of which is, don't divorce someone with a butt-load of money and try to "do the right thing" or to be nice (ie waive your right to your share of the money OR try to play nice and fair custody-wise).... you'll get eaten alive, and regret it deeply. Next life, I go for the jugular on all counts, since it didn't buy me sh*t doing it with class the first time around.
After I woke from the self-induced, self-inflicted coma of the first seven years, I resolved to never, ever, NOT EVER try to be something I'm not, or not be something I am, for ANYONE. And then, I met Matthew. Well, re-met, actually. We'd met earlier that year in the pool at Episcopal master's practice, but he was going through a divorce and I was trying to be a dancer. I'd tried a practice or two at EHS and had planned to stay with it, but the dancer had a mean streak and a shoulder injury knocked me out of the pool after a few visits.
Fast forward six months. I'd decided to run the Children's Way 5k, and Matthew was there. We went out the next Tuesday, and again that Friday, and we've been inseparable ever since. Matthew's first (of many) sweet gestures was to take my ancient, hand-me-down, 650 wheeled cannondale (retrofitted to be a tri bike) and tune it up. Next came clips, and some upgraded components, and my first experience on a bike trainer, etc etc.... before long he had talked me into signing up for St. Anthony's and the girls into signing up for Meek and Mighty (keep in mind I hadn't run 6 miles straight since cross country practice in HS, lol). An Oly seemed so... daunting.
And so, just two years ago, Team DiPaolo was born.
I guess I should start by talking a bit about myself. I'm old (42), I have two daughters (currently 12 and 11), one husband (we married in 2008 in the best decision I've ever made), three large dogs (Chuck, the 11yo kindly, stinky, perpetually happy, prolifically shedding chocolate lab; Mia, the 6yo, loyal, vigilant, athletic, always slightly worried about something, fear-biting German Shepherd; and Sabre,the 3yo, never-quite-outgrew-his-puppyhood, snuggly, spastic, gigantic nosed black German Shepherd), and I've made a lot of crappy decisions in the past that still resonate to this day(part of the ubiquitous "why").
I grew up in a small town outside of Reading, PA, and attended college at Bucknell University. Athletics were always a huge part of my life ( some would say too huge) - year round swimming began at 7, injuries began with gusto at 15, and most of my athletic life after that has fallen along the continuum of injury, recovery, and desperately trying not to trip across the delicate line of causing another injury.
I swam and ran track and cross country in high school; swam and played water polo in college. As an all-American goalie I played briefly with the US National team before(sing along here) an injury derailed my progress and I ultimately allowed lack of support and lagging confidence to push me away from serious pursuit of the sport.
Triathlon made a brief appearance in college in the form of a sprint triathlon somewhere in Pa. I don't remember much about it, except I was stunned at mile 1 of the run to discover it was not mile 3, a theme that continues to this day.
I married youngish (22) and it was, as many such things are, a royal mistake. I've been divorced coming up on 11 years this November, a number that probably shocks some given the continued angst surrounding dealings with my exh. While that is a topic I could blog about ad nauseum, I will keep the references to a minimum, as my exh is a world class stalker and will certainly find this blog sooner or later. When I say "world class" I refer to, for example, the 3" or more stack of "documentary evidence" (we called it the manifesto) he presented to the counselor I tried to take the girls to last year. The manifesto contained emails from everyone ranging from my own parents/family, to friends, to several ex-boyfriends my exh has befriended after I broke up with each, etc dating back to at least 1998. Apparently he has spent at least part of our marriage and all of our divorce saving emails TO me (from a variety of sources), FROM me, and, of course, ABOUT me. I didn't find it nearly as hilarious as the counselor or Matthew seemed to....
But I digress. I've lived in PA, CA, NJ, Miami, Key Largo, and Jacksonville. The latter has been home since 1999, and this is where we will remain, absent anyone's untimely demise, until my youngest daughter turns 18 and/or Matthew can retire from CSX.
During the first 7 years in Jacksonville I did a sprint tri (the Bfas) every year or two or three, and ran a few road races (5k distance only). I didn't "train" per se -- I never ran, and did mostly treadmill or stationary bike for exercise. Through several poor choices in boyfriends over those 7 years I found myself contorting myself away from my true self and into gumby like shapes trying to be the person the mistake of the moment wanted me to be, or thought I should be, or whatever. I morphed, or tried to, into, in order of boyfriend, a person with no defining interests, a wakeboarder/biker chic (the wakeboarding was great, and I do miss that), and a ballroom dancer (for some reason I'm told I dance from the shoulders, like an athlete, instead of from the hips, like a dancer. Well, DUH. By the way, of all the environments I've tried to assimilate into, the dancing one was by far the most toxic, strangely enough).
I worked a variety of jobs too... freelance reporter/features writer, HS and Middle School swim coach (7 years), part-time attorney (briefly)... surely something is missing but that's all I am coming up with right now, lol. I shunned full-time work because of my bizarro custody schedule -- during those years I had the girls F-M and the exh had them the other days (now we each "have" them for a week at a time). Every week. For seven years. Long story, moral of which is, don't divorce someone with a butt-load of money and try to "do the right thing" or to be nice (ie waive your right to your share of the money OR try to play nice and fair custody-wise).... you'll get eaten alive, and regret it deeply. Next life, I go for the jugular on all counts, since it didn't buy me sh*t doing it with class the first time around.
After I woke from the self-induced, self-inflicted coma of the first seven years, I resolved to never, ever, NOT EVER try to be something I'm not, or not be something I am, for ANYONE. And then, I met Matthew. Well, re-met, actually. We'd met earlier that year in the pool at Episcopal master's practice, but he was going through a divorce and I was trying to be a dancer. I'd tried a practice or two at EHS and had planned to stay with it, but the dancer had a mean streak and a shoulder injury knocked me out of the pool after a few visits.
Fast forward six months. I'd decided to run the Children's Way 5k, and Matthew was there. We went out the next Tuesday, and again that Friday, and we've been inseparable ever since. Matthew's first (of many) sweet gestures was to take my ancient, hand-me-down, 650 wheeled cannondale (retrofitted to be a tri bike) and tune it up. Next came clips, and some upgraded components, and my first experience on a bike trainer, etc etc.... before long he had talked me into signing up for St. Anthony's and the girls into signing up for Meek and Mighty (keep in mind I hadn't run 6 miles straight since cross country practice in HS, lol). An Oly seemed so... daunting.
And so, just two years ago, Team DiPaolo was born.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)