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.
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