Flatlander in the hills

We signed up for IM Raleigh 70.3 almost as soon as it was announced, because a chunk of M's family lives in that area.  It was only after we enthusiastically registered that we remembered how &^%^%# hilly that area is, lol.

As of last Wednesday we were NOT going to the race.  We'd just put down one of our beloved dogs, the girls were stressed about the family counseling situation with their father, and neither M nor I felt emotionally capable of handling the trip and race.  I cancelled our hotel reservations and the girls made plans with friends for Saturday, and I sank into that black place that is life with my exh in it.

Thursday morning I went to swim, and the faintest glimmer of "I need to do this race" sparked.  By the time I exited the pool I had hatched a plan:  I'd go alone, M could hang with the girls and do some fun stuff to take everyone's mind off of things, and I could just sink into silence and not think or talk for a few days.  M, of course, wouldn't hear of me going alone, and the girls clearly wanted us gone (lol).  So, I found a cheaper, almost as close hotel and we planned to leave Friday morning.  After some scrambling to secure rides for the girls to and from practices and their social plans, we were packed and ready.

The drive up Friday was... long and boring.  I was a little irritated to not be alone (that faded eventually, lol, but as always I owe the ever patient and tolerant M a lot...) and my cranky hamstring was.... cranky... the entire ride.  We eventually rolled in around dinner time,  checked in, found a restaurant, and settled down for the night.

Saturday morning we rolled out of bed, ate at Brueggers (THE BEST SALT BAGELS... God I hate panera, which is like the mcdonalds of bagels), showered, and headed north to Wake Forest to see M's nephew's baseball game.  What started out as the Bad News Bears vs the Mets ended with the BNBs putting together a 6 run rally in the bottom of the last inning to implausibly win by one run.  Off to M's sister's we went for his youngest nephew's 6th birthday party, where 347 kids under 10 ran amuck in his sister's gorgeous backyard.

We ultimately excused ourselves and arrived at athlete check in at almost 2p.  No naps or kicking back the day before a race for me, lol.  We checked in, walked through the expo briefly, stopped at the hotel to pick up the Bee, and commenced on the lengthy drive out to the swim/T1 location to check in the bike.

On the drive, I duly noted the, ahem, rolling terrain.  The lake itself was large and gorgeous.  The road into the swim area was narrow (hence why they were closing it completely to traffic race morning) and downhill into transition, which is the exact opposite of what you want on race day :-)

The race officials universally insisted that the water temperature was too high for there to be any chance of the race being wetsuit legal.  I've learned not to trust the word of the race officials.  Other people, apparently, had not learned that and regretted it the next morning.

I racked the Bee on the 3 mile long, narrowly spaced rack (seriously, there were...4?  5? racks for 2400 people... we're talking LONG racks) and we walked to look at the water.  The run into transition was reasonable, and only slightly uphill.

We stopped for food on the way back to the hotel, and I finally got to sit down, stretch out, and relax at 7p.  I was out cold by 8, and only woke up 4 times during the night to pee, thus establishing I'd successfully hydrated during the day ;-)

The alarm went off at 3:22a and we got ready and out the door in time to drop me at the eerily empty T2 shortly after 4.  I "set up" my T2 (really.  sneakers, race belt, watch...oh yeah, hat!) and wandered out to the row of 436 touring buses waiting to take us and any spectators out to T1.  I hopped on the 3rd bus and shortly after that we were on the road.  Most of the time the driver kept all four wheels on the ground as we barreled along the winding roads into the lake area.  I saw some bewildered looking deer, and not much else.  M, after dropping me off, had headed to one of the parking areas 5 or 6 miles from T1 and was planning to ride his mountain bike to T1 so he could escape as soon as I finished the swim and hustle back to T2 to see me in off the bike.

We offloaded at T2 and waited for the water temp announcement.  I had brought mine, but had exactly no intention of wearing it regardless.  I hate the things.  Sure enough, they magically found a spot in the lake exactly .1 below the cut off, and half the athletes groaned at the news since they'd left their wetsuits behind.  I had my speed suit, so really didn't care either way.

M arrived safely and we milled around and found someplace to sit and relax for the almost THREE hours I had until my wave started.   We watched the pros off, I choked down my day old salt bagel and ensure, and we waited.

Apparently while my wave, with me standing in 6" of water at the front, waited to enter the water for the in water start, a nicely sized water snake of undetermined breeding swam almost right over my feet. No one in my wave saw him, so we all entered the water when it was our turn ;-)

The in water, too deep to stand, start was unremarkable.  I took off with two girls keeping pace to my far left and one girl directly to my right.  We caught the first straggler by the time we hit the 100 yard mark (no kidding) and the rest of the race was spent dodging slower moving differently colored swim caps.  The girl on the right fell back, and I latched onto the feet of the other two as they moved over towards my line.  I swam caboose until the first turn buoy, moved into the middle for the next leg, and went back to caboose after the final turn.  I've never drafted during the swim before.  This was pretty fun, although I ditched them a couple of times when the leader meandered way left.  I picked them back up when they meandered back towards where they should have been, and rode the wake until about the last 100 yards or so when we got separated in the mass of bobbing humanity headed for the exit.

I came out of the water 3rd, :10 back, but exited T1 first.  We'd caught and passed the first wave of older women (50+), so I was the first female age grouper to come through the course for 52 miles of the bike.

The first 4 or 5 miles were, of course, uphill.  I'd actually argue that it was almost the worst part of the ride, as the roads were a bit rough, my legs were not warmed up, and it was UPHILL.  I tried to just relax and spin it out, but was a little worried I'd be off the course by mile 30 and hitching a ride to T2 to call it a day.

The tenor of the ride changed rapidly when we turned off that first road.  Smoothly paved and sweetly rolling, I was hitting 32 on the false flats and feeling significantly better.  The entire time I was blowing by boy after boy, most of whom had something encouraging and/or hilarious to say about it.   I was passed by a few boys at various times, but for the most part I was doing the passing.  In the back of my mind I wondered if all the people I passed would be gloating over my wasted body on the side of the road at some point, but on I went.  I don't use a power meter, or freak over my speed, and I couldn't get my cadence working, so I really ride on instinct anyway.

The bike was fun.  Challenging.  Hot.  Windy.  HILLY.  The neighborhoods we passed turned out en masse, and the volunteers were phenomenal.  For hydration I had double cages off my seat, a front loader, and a smaller aero bottle on the tube.   My plan was to drink my front loader, refill from one of my back bottles, and then take water at each aid station and mix it with a squirt or two from my super charged aero bottle mix.  That way I'd have the other back bottle in reserve if, as at IMLou, I ran out of aid stations and water , which forced me to ride the last 20+ miles dry in 97+ heat.

I also had fig newtons, a broken up pbj bonk breaker, some salt/electrolyte tabs, and mint lifesavers to get the awful sugary gloppy taste out of my mouth occasionally.  The bonk breaker and accelerade mix created a lovely gooey mess to puke periodically until I switched to the fig newtons, which sat better.  I ate the salt tabs like tic tacs, washed everything down with yummy luke warm accelerade, and munched a mint periodically.

From mile 30 or so on I had to pee.  Despite repeated attempts, I STILL cannot pee on the bike, and I knew I had a good bike split going so I stubbornly decided to hold on until T2.  I finally got passed by a girl from my AG at mile 52, and I stayed in touch with her for the last 4 miles until we actually dismounted side by side (at, of course, the top of a HILL) and ran together into T2.

I definitely enjoyed the bike.  Training on the powerbeam trainer, which is my ONLY bike training, has certainly paid off, as my 2:42 split was a PR and this course was WAY more challenging than the other halfs I've done.  I appreciated the support from the people along the course, as when they realized a female was coming through cheered louder and shouted gender-based encouragement.  That was a very cool experience, and I doubt there will be many races of that calibre where I will have the honor of being the lead age grouper (thanks in part to my wave, but only 4 age groupers beat me, so even if it had been a mass start I still should have been up there anyway).  The guys didn't seem to mind getting chicked quite as much as some locals do, either.

 I racked the Bee, who didn't want to hang straight, switched into my running shoes, tossed on my hat, and sprinted for the neartest porta-let.  Probably two minutes later, and feeling much better, off I ran.

As I lumbered out on the run course after my pee break, M yelled that I was in 3rd, with the girls just :20 or so ahead.  At that point I didn't care if I was in 1st or last, as I didn't feel particularly spunky and hadn't embraced the suck at that point.  And, oddly, I had a weird tight, pulling pain in my lower right leg, on the outside at the bottom of the calf.  The road was very slanted, so I ran on the crown to try and get the pain to subside, but it worsened quickly.  I stopped to stretch it, which didn't help.  Sometime in the first mile I actually passed the 2nd place girl, but the 1st place girl was gone.

I tried changing stride length and stuff to see if I could work out the leg issue.  I remember thinking that my shoe was a little loose on that side, so I couldn't figure out what was causing the pain.  Then the whole area went supernova, with a deep burning pain, and my foot gradually went numb.  First a few toes, then the entire foot, and ultimately the numbness crept up above my ankle.  I knew my stride was getting awkward because I could neither feel nor control my foot. It was weird, and then it was scary as it got worse and worse.   I started trying to figure out how I could possible run 13 miles on that foot (more like 11 at that point).  I walked the aid stations and moved it around and wiggled my toes trying to find some solution.

When I saw M on the course on his bike, I told him what was going on, and that I had no idea what to do.  While I debated I kept running, albeit at a very slow pace for me.  During that time the lead girl hung almost 4 minutes on me, although M didn't tell me that.  I began to sympathize with how Miss Mia must have felt as she lost feeling and strength in her hind legs, and I could hear my sneaker scraping oddly periodically.

I wondered if I could be causing some sort of permanent damage to the foot.  I thought about walking, or stopping and taking my shoe off, or just walking off the damn course and calling it a day.  Meanwhile I was still lumbering along in second.  M yelled encouragement as I entered the section he couldn't get into -- the middle 5 miles from hell, where many people's races went to die.  The hills had hills.  The sun was strong, and the hills were ruthless.  The carnage was evident as a large percentage of the runners were walking.  And we did heart of the loop....twice.  It was on the first time through that my foot began to regain feeling... just as oddly and unpredictably as it had lost it.  Slowly the numbness receded and I began running with more purpose.... And then I saw her.

The first place girl had broken (and she is a very good runner who posted a much faster IMLou than I did) and was walking.  I ran by and yelled (probably more gurgled weakly, but...) encouragement and she cheered me on.   When I came out of the dead zone in 1st, Matthew was as shocked as I was... and then it became about survival.  With 4 miles left I had opened up a 3 minute lead over the 2nd place girl, and I determined to make her earn it if she was gonna catch me.  I was walking through each aid station, taking water and ice and the occasional awful Ironman perform or broiling hot coke, and then running as strongly as I could muster to the next aid station.

At mile 11 the lead was up to about 3:45, and I knew it would take a total meltdown to lose it.  Or 6 minute miles out of the 2nd place girl, lol.  I was struggling, although the last four miles were my fastest of the race.   The race had thinned out so much that I was not passing people nearly as often, and by the time we made the last turn in front of the capitol building, with the finish a distant, eternally uphill, speck, the race had finally thinned out.

I really wish I could have enjoyed the long run into the finish a bit more, but I just wanted to be finished.  The atmosphere was really fun, with people lining the street all the way up to the finish chute.

  As I entered the chute, all the kids had hands out asking for high fives, including Matthew, so I moved to the far right and, for the first time in an Ironman race, took the time to high five as many people as I could on the way through the chute.  If you've ever done a half or a full, you will know what I mean when I say the LAST thing I wanted to do was lift my arm up and make even the slightest impact with ANYTHING that could slow or alter my forward momentum in the slightest, but I did... and it was a blast.  I managed to high five M's family too as I worked my way down the chute.

Across the line with a small fist pump, and I was pretty much cooked and bent over with my hands on my knees.  The volunteers were fantastic, and we cracked jokes as they guided me out of the finisher chute.

All in all, I am very very glad that we went to the race, that Matthew and his family were there with me, and that I didn't give in to the black monster.   I didn't even know, or care, what my final time was (a PR, amazingly enough) or even what place I came in (although I have to say, that was really really cool....) because I a) made it to the start line and b) made it to the finish line...

...that's my why, what's yours?

Thou shalt NOT forget the body glide...

When Ironman announced the venue change for Florida 70.3, I signed up without really thinking it through from a timing perspective.  All I knew was, it wasn't that awful disney death march for the run, and that was good enough for me.   Dumba**.

After battling a very tenacious bronchitis crud for several months at the end of last year, I started training with a new twist -- for the first time ever, I worked with a "personal trainer" to focus specifically on strengthening the supporting muscles (ie all the muscles that are NOT my quads, lol).  It was with trepidation that I embarked on the experiment, because my knees and shoulders are always teetering on the edge of extinction and I was concerned about moving outside my comfort zone of a simple weight circuit three days a week at the Y.

What a lucky discovery.  Training with Colin (Woodmansee... colinwoodmansee@fitnesstogether.com) turned out to be the single smartest triathlon related thing I've ever done.  After a few weeks of backing off on swimming and running while I let my body adapt to the new training, I started back into both and immediately felt stronger and had less joint pain and soreness.  With some exceptions for illness (mine or the girls) I managed to consistently train with Colin for 12 weeks, 3x/week, before switching to 2x/week in the 2 months leading up to the race.  This would turn out to be the ONLY thing I did with any consistency.

Sometime in...March? I suffered what we at first thought was a slap tear of my shoulder (let's just say you need to be really careful how you pick up a heavy backpack, and leave it at that) but which turned out to be a cocktail of itis.... bursitis, tendonitis, and arthritis.  That put me out of the pool for almost 3 weeks, and when I got back in my swimming was tentative, and painful, and my speed was very limited.

After that in no particular order (and involving me either directly or as the MOM) came swim meets, track meets, stomach viruses, strep throats and other respiratory ills, school-related swim drama, Captain crap, and a recurrence of my little viral friend from hell that I have written about previously.  Four weeks before the race BiM got the plague and training went out the window with drs visits and the assorted demands of a sickly child.  Three weeks before the race I got the stomach virus that landed me in the ER and kept me from eating solid food for 5 days, and that seemed to awaken my viral friend.  The two weeks before the race saw ok days and awful days, with the latter leading at about a 3:1 ratio.  Some days I could go through the motions of a workout.  Others I just tried to nap it out.  Fevers, headaches from hell, and a feeling like every ounce of energy was sucked out of my cells was pretty much the norm.

I had resigned myself to not having a very good race.  I figured the BEST case scenario would be that I caught a good day and could have an ok race (based on lack of fitness, based on lack of training).  Worst case scenario would be I'd have that awful empty tank feeling and collapse in a heap somewhere on the course.   I actually felt so crappy I wasn't even mad I felt so crappy, lol.

So... we came down to Haines City on Friday.  We'd rented a house a few miles from transition... 3 bedrooms, 2 baths and a pool.  BiM needed to spend the weekend hunkered down and studying for finals, and I didn't want her locked away in a hotel room to do it.  The house was awesome and perfectly located.

We drove to the race site, checked in LiM for Ironkids and me for the fiasco, sweated, heard the bike course description from Freddy B, who had driven it that day, and then went to dinner at Outback (LiM's favorite pre-race meal).

I woke up Saturday at 4a, even before the alarm, and off we went to LiM's race.  She raced very very well... we finally got back to the house after 7 hours on our feet in the sun (well, 5 in the sun) and I discovered my race sneakers had rubbed a very painful spot on my right foot pinky toe.  Uh Oh.  We scrambled off to Dick's Sporting goods, bought a pair of the same exact kind of sneakers (the difference being they were not rubbing that spot) and came back to the house.  I relaxed while LiM and a friend played in the pool with M, and BiM studied.

After a disjointed night sleep and a wake up at 3a, an hour+ before the alarm was set for (sigh) I gave up, got up, and choked down the traditional bagel and hot chocolate and texted with Freddy.  It was perhaps a sign of how the day would go that I then put my Garmin into my swim cap and my goggles into my sneakers.  And I discovered I had forgotten body glide.   Let's just say a speed suit over a tri top over a sports bra provides a lot of opportunity to have skin rubbed off of your body if you forget the body glide.

LiM, M, and I went off to the race site, and I took Bumblebee in to find our rack.   Every. Single. Bike. On. My. Rack. Was. Racked. Backwards.    Every one.  And two race officials were helpfully standing there discussing penalties.  So, I got to decide whether to rack right, and have my handle bars hooked in with two others (neither of whom had set up their gear correctly either... it's on the DOWN WHEEL.  If you set up on the UP wheel, how do you propose to get your bike out????????)

Luckily the lady to my right came and we swapped sides of the rack, which put her stuff on the correct side of her bike and gave me some room.  It took about 6 tries to get my T set up, as I kept forgetting things in my bag or grabbing the wrong thing.   Finally, after a good belly laugh at the girl on my rack who had a LARGE Burger King beverage and a bagel set out on her oversize transition mat, along with what looked like several towels and changes of clothing, I patted the 'Bee and wandered out of transition.

The surprise arrival of Team Davenport and seeing Britta F. (a rack mate, which I should have figured given our last names) and Freddy B. and a bunch of really cute canines kept me occupied while we killed time.   LiM and I walked to the swim start to see if we could see Lance (we did, finally, for all of :30 before his wave start).  A hug from the family and Freddy and it was time to march out with my wave to the start buoys.

We marched all of about 5' before we all squealed like little girls and started to dog paddle with out feet off the ground.  My leg had sunk at least two feet into really nasty muck, and that was enough for me.  My age group always seems to have a lot of fun, and generally some good comraderie (always with some notable exceptions, of course) and there was a lot of laughing as we waited our turn.  We even gave ourselves a round of applause and cheers.

The cannon sounded and we were off, dolphin diving through the muck.  It was.... gross.  The water smelled and tasted nasty, there was seaweed and muck everywhere, and the silt was so stirred up I couldn't see my own hand.  I had maybe 25 yards of unfettered swimming before the girl behind me grabbed my leg.  Repeatedly.  Another 25 yards (ok, maybe 50) and we caught the trailers of the wave ahead of us.  Uh oh.  Before I knew it, it was a rugby scrum of too many people in too little space making too many turns.

I settled into 4th in my wave (FOURTH!  Uh oh...) and we picked our way through the...logjam... and I got punched, kicked, had my goggles knocked off, and generally fantasized about writing a letter demanding a time seeded start from now on.  My mood was darkening quickly.

But the really scary part was, after feeling really good for the first 5 minutes, I felt REALLY bad for the last 25.  My shoulders and back tightened up, and I felt lightheaded and weak.  It was bizarro, and all I can think is it was a reaction to shivering before the race start and not warming up.  And the doubts started pouring in... how the hell was I going to ride 56 miles and then run a half marathon when I already felt like I hadn't eaten in a week...??

There began a 5 hour dialogue with myself... I'd walk to the edge of the cliff and talk myself back down.  Over and over and over again.  It's that game of chicken we all play with ourselves (usually on the run) where you walk right up to where you can touch giving yourself permission to walk, and then teeter on the edge... because you know once you do that, your day is over.   And it can be something as simple as seeing someone in front of you stop and walk... backing off is not even a conscious decision sometimes.  I spent the next 5 hours on that edge.

I came out of the water 4th on dead tree trunk legs.   I didn't know it at the time, but I'd knocked 2:30 off my previous halfIM swim time (thank you, Coach Mel Nash, who took one look at my stroke and fixed a problem I've had for 27 years -- shameless plug here... all you weaker swimmers out there OWE it to yourself to do a lesson or camp with Mel.  He is AMAZING.)

Anyway...

Up the (sandy) hill and on to the 17 mile run through two layers of transition (uphill, of course).  I stumbled into my bike area and chatted briefly with one of the girls who beat me out of the water while I struggled to remember what I needed to do to actually be ready to ride a bike.  I finally got organized and clopped my way out to the mount area, where I played the traditional game of "why the hell won't my clips go into the pedals?!" before heading off.  Uphill.  Of Course.

My one main comment about the transition set up was that they managed to forget to put water ANYWHERE in or near transition.  This was not cool, and actually would jack me up at the start of the run later on.  At the point of T1, it just irritated my already not sunny mood.

The first 30 miles of the bike were, surprisingly, FUN.  Lots of turns, lots of rollers, lots of horses and shade and stuff to keep me occupied.  I spent the first 5 miles eating fig newtons and drinking as much as I could.  Oh, well, that was after I had to STOP a half mile into the ride to re-attach my front water bottle.  Count two lost minutes there.

I came out of T1 in 4th.  It took a while, but I eventually passed two girls, got passed by one, and passed her back.  So at mile 50 I realized, um, I think I'm running 2nd right now.  And I laughed, because my swim, which is supposed to be my strength was awful (not in terms of time, but in terms of place) and my bike, which I consider my weakness, had moved me up in place (and turned out to be a good time, for me).  Go figure.

The bike was actually not too bad.  I had bouts of feeling really fatigued, but probably spent more than 80% of it feeling ok.  I tried to spin out the first 20 miles or so, and had a great split at 36, which is about where we turned, went uphill, found the sun, and also found the headwind.  Those last 18 miles were rough.  Hot, windy, hilly, and generally crappy pavement.  My upper body feels like someone hit me with a board after the rugby scrum swim and the stress of controlling a bucking bronco bike at 18-25mph for 56 miles.

Somewhere in there I saw the only draft pack I saw all day -- of course 40-50 year old guys.  I heard there was a lot more drafting going on behind me.... and I wonder if, deep down, those people know they cheated.  Because WE know they cheated.  You are NOT a rockstar if you cheat.  You are a cheater.  Anyone can run a great half after drafting on a bike.  It doesn't fool some of us :-)

Anyway.

As I came in off the bike I saw Matthew and LiM and I could tell Matthew knew how I was doing (place wise) and was doing his best to boost me up to hold on... but I was really worried.  I dismounted and almost fell on my face, and that weak feeling swept over me.  I got passed by the 3rd place girl IN transition (she sprinted her bike in... I was doing a sort of duck waddle).  I looked in vain for cold water and a place to pee (there were like two portalets in transition. Two.) but ended up out on the course, thirsty, overheated, and still needing to pee.  And, of course, we are in bright sun and heading almost immediately up a (yes, you guessed it) hill.  A steep one.  People were already walking and we hadn't run a mile.  I struggled up it, but thought I was going to pass out.  At the top I found a bush, walked behind it, dropped trou and pee'd.  And added 90 seconds to my time.  And watched the 4th place girl pass me for 3rd.  Sigh.

Back out on the course, and we had a little downhill followed by ANOTHER long uphill.  Ok, I'm not laughing now.   Finally, at like mile 1.5, we hit a water stop.  Every cup of ice and water I could grab I drank/dumped on my head.  I even drank the awful Ironman Perform they insist on serving.  And the debate over finishing got as loud as it had been all day.  I was chilled.  Shaky.  Lightheaded.  It had been  a valiant effort, right?   Just walk.  You know you want to...

So I started the mind games.  It's not 13 miles, it's 3 laps.  Get to the next water stop.  Keep moving. At least make it around once and see Matthew and LiM, then walk.  The girl who passed me for 3rd disappeared, and I tried not to be demoralized.  You're going to get passed, a lot.  You'll never hold on. You're going to walk.

SHUT UP and make it around once.  Sheesh.  It's f***ing hot.  What IS that in my sock?  (10 miles of scrunching around my big toe and foot later trying to reposition the rock or whatever was in my sock, the answer was a gigantic blister under my big toe, which hurts very much to WALK on so I'm not sure how I ran on it for so long...)

Another water stop.  Another ten pounds of ice and water in my tri suit and shoes.  Another brief burst of resolve that quickly melted away in the heat.  Several times in the first lap I came close to just walking... on OR off the course.  I kept thinking to just take whatever my body would give me, and to NOT go down without at least SOME sort of fight.  Finally I resolved that, if half my age group was going to pass me, they were going to pass me while I was running.

At no point did I ever look at my pace watch.  I was afraid I was running 9 minute miles and would get demoralized.  Turns out I averaged just over 8, even with the pee break and hills.  And, I really thought I'd gotten faster as I went, but I actually got a bit slower each lap.  Go figure.

First lap in sight....a nice long run through chutes lined with cheering spectators.  M and LiM yelling that I'm in 4th.  A wave of angst because I knew I was going to let them down and get passed, repeatedly, over the next eight miles.

Back to the double hills.   The carnage continued, with probably 50% of the runners pulling over and walking on the sidewalk.  Two girls in my age group passed me, but I had no idea whether they were on their first or second lap.  I decided to assume second, which put me in 6th.  I passed one girl, which moved me back to 5th.  Five people podium.

I saw my friend Colleen on the loop part of the lap that had us briefly running next to the oncoming runners.  She looked great, which made me smile.  All I could do was thumbs up at her as she ran by and yelled my name.  Needless to say, her run was stellar and did not involve fantasies of medical tents and bags of fluid.

The ambulance sirens were audible.  Water stations were struggling in some spots to keep cups filled.  Drinks were getting noticeably warmer.  Bleah.  The percentage of walkers increased.  I started to feel that lightness of body feeling you get before you pass out.  A couple cups of (nasty) Ironman beverage helped with that, although then I had to worry about power puking on someone.  I was in that place where the sound of people's shoes scraping and the clicking of the ice in my tri suit annoyed me terribly, lol.

Somehow I made it around to the chute to start my third loop.  Running through the throngs was a great pick me up, and I started dreaming of the last lap and turning left instead of right.  M and LiM still had me figured for fourth.  I had me at fifth.  Either way, I would now spend the last 4+ miles terrorized at being caught, and debating with myself over whether I could go any faster, or could walk for just a few minutes, or would even finish the course upright.

I hit the first of the double hills and broke, briefly.  I walked probably 30 yards.  At that point there were probably 2 people running for every 10 walking, and the course was packed as more and more people got off the bike.  Somehow I made myself get back on the road and top off the hill running.  I ran the second hill.  And I saw the 4th place girl, the one who had motored by me when I was visiting the bush on the first lap.  She walked the water stop at both ends.  I walked the first end but ran the second.  She ended up 4 minutes behind me, I think.

Miles 8 and 9 were really mentally brutal.  I don't know what the temperature was, and I don't want to know, but I was living for the water stops and playing every mind game I could think of to get there upright.  I knew if I could hit the 11 mile sign I could finish, but the last two miles were almost worse, with the desire to just walk, or even stop and sit in the shade, almost overwhelming.  I idly wondered if I would fall over after the finish line.  I contemplated what would happen if someone passed me at that point.  I looked for my friend Freddy, to no avail.

FINALLY I made it to the last water stop, grabbed one final cup of the awful mango flavored (I think) gatorade wannabe, and looked up and saw the turn that would take us down the street lined with people and into the long chute.  As I perked up, the guy running next to me said "3rd loop?" and we high fived and ran it in to the first part of the chute together.  I got cut off by someone starting her first loop, so ended up a few yards back,  but we had the fun of running through a completely empty finishers' chute and hearing both our names announced.

Across the line I started to pitch face first and was caught by several of the awesome volunteers.  There seemed to be a lot of EMTs there, and two of them were steering me towards medical when I got my feet back underneath me and staggered out to find the family.  I spent the better part of the next twenty minutes alternating weaving unsteadily upright or bent over with my hands on my knees, struggling to breath.  Team Davenport came over to show us their autographed Lance gear (if you ever want to learn how to get close to someone famous, talk to them!).  I dumped probably 5 bottles of water on my head, and thought about using the inhaler (but decided I was too tired to get it out of the bag on my race belt... which is why I never used it on the course, even though the rattle in my chest was a little freaky at times...)

LiM basically carried me over to the food tent (I must have looked pathetic, because the entrance guards waved her right in with me) and we got some cookies, water, watermelon, and a burger for poor M.  I have to say, the food tent was LAME, although the volunteers were again wonderful.

M and L were communicating with C to figure out where I had finished and we were trying to figure out where Freddy was on the course, as I did not want him to finish without someone there to cheer.   Finally M had enough of my staggering and declared we needed to go back to the house so I could shower and sit down for a while before the awards, and we reluctantly left,

LiM took the "my racer is dead and can't retrieve her stuff" claim check and walked into transition with me to get my stuff.  The volunteers actually double checked the bikes as they left.  They took their jobs VERY seriously, but were very nice about it.

The awards were a bit of a disappointment, as Lance didn't show up and they had (unknown to us) allowed people to pick theirs up and leave between 2 and 4.  I got mine and we left.  In years past they had done roll down for Worlds as the awards were being handed out, but I knew I wasn't going to take the slot even if it came to me, so we left.

When I started training for this event, I had hoped to place 2nd or 3rd.  Having finished roughly one pee break and one stop on the bike out of 3rd, even with a run I do not consider my best (although it was certainly the best I had yesterday), I do feel a sense of having missed a chance to do better.  BUT... considering for the past month I had serious doubts whether my body (and my brain) would even let me finish the race,  I also feel a tremendous sense of accomplishment.  That race required more mental strength than anything I've ever done, and I think is a testament to how your mind really does dictate your body in many ways,  The physical strength gains I made working with Colin counterbalanced the shortcomings in my actual tri training, and somehow my brain tapped into those during the race.

My final tally of war wounds includes a gash on my ankle, a cut on my hand, some nasty sunburn on my shoulders (ooops, missed a few spots with the sunscreen), a hilarious tri short tan line, the nastiest blister I've ever had on my foot (right between my big toe and it's neighbor), and what may be an eye infection in my right eye (the one that got water in it when my goggles got drop kicked off my face... perhaps my contact, which magically stayed somewhat in place, trapped some bacteria in there... regardless, my right eye is entertainingly blurry and itchy), and some crazy soreness in my shoulders and right knee (the latter from favoring the right foot, home of the monster blister).

What I am not:  sore (except the shoulders/back).  My legs feel great.  My quads are tired but not sore.  Colin is a mad genius and worth every penny.   I asked him how it feels to have finished 4th in a half IM, because I 100% believe it was training with him that got me through.  Lord knows the one 28 mile ride I did on my bike outside wasn't it.  :-)

So, that's my very long story of a very long day.  Everyone tells me they are not surprised, but... I am.  I know how awful it's been to live in my body lately.  And I am, frankly, very very proud of that race yesterday.  It's just icing on the cake that I actually got an award  (my first in an IM branded race!) because battling through what I felt physically and mentally was the amazing triumph, to me.

...that's my why, what's yours?

Of rocks, skips, buses and kids...

I have taken to using an analogy to describe my growing suspicion about the truth of my evolving role as a parent.   I may have mentioned it in earlier blogs, but I'm about to beat it to death in this one.  :-)

You know that awful Olympic sport, Curling...?  The one that seems to be the TV stations' favorite filler during the olympics when no other actual SPORT is on at the moment?  Curling, to the uneducated me, combines all the funnest elements of shuffleboard and sweeping your house.   Basically, one person sends the granite stone, aka "the rock" (a big disky kind of object) zooming down the ice path while his or her compatriots sweep the ice madly in front of the rock, trying to guide it to a given spot down the road.  Sometimes the rock hits other rocks and alters its course, which then seems to cause frantic sweeping and yelling of commands from the rock launcher, aka "skip".

So.

I've decided my current role as a parent is to launch the rock, aka teenager, down the path of life, and swoop around it, sweeping madly to try and help keep it, er, her, relatively on course.   Sometimes the rock, er, teenager, slams into other rocks and changes course, which elicits much consternation from the skip, er, mother and further frantic sweeping to adjust course.

BUT.  Ultimately that rock is heading down the course the skip shoved it on, and it's pretty much all over except the frantic sweeping and a bit of yelling here and there.

My two rocks, er, daughters, took off down that course almost without warning.  And, frankly, that launch seemed to coincide with the biofather's inexplicable decision to check out of our world for 7 months starting, essentially, January 2011.  Once they started living here full time, their confidence and personalities just seemed to soar... and off they went, leaving their skip (yes, me) searching frantically for her broom (yes, I know what I just said).

I've told my attorney, the counselor trying desperately to focus the biofather on the real issues and secure some sort of "reunification", the psychologist assessing my/our parenting skills, and pretty much anyone else involved in the situation that the bus has left... and there is plenty of room on it for positive contributors, BUT, it's well on it's way, with or without the rest of us.  Smart adults will actually jump ON the bus rather than try to stand in front of the bus and expect it to stop and reset to when it was just a little van.

The forward momentum has had fits and starts, of course.  The PCS, the issues on the old swim team, occasional biofather related disruptions that actually affected the girls (missed school or practices for "counseling" or other command performances, the early disruption when he first began appearing at events again, a few bombed tests here and there caused by anger/stress related to interactions with him...)... all have periodically caused the bus to backfire.  (Wait, I'm mixing metaphors now... caused the rock to scrape?  Caused the rock to briefly alter course?  Maybe I need to put the rock on the bus or something...)

Anyway, I'd love nothing more than to have the biofather sweeping along with us, on the bus.  Unfortunately, he has chosen to run alongside the rock, yelling incoherently and accusing the skip of turning the rock against him.

As BiM's decisions related to academics and athletics become more important (i.e. should she take a full slate of upper level classes... to wit... AP European History, Honors Chem, Honors Alg II, Honors Spanish and Honors Eng, or should she heed the Honors English teacher's doom and gloom warning that "if *I* had a daughter *I* would not let her take both Honors Eng and AP Euro" and take her 600 SAT verbal score as a 14 year old and go to AP English as an 11th grader, where presumably the teacher will not be so...negative...?) the conversations become far less one sided and far more interactive, and it becomes increasingly obvious that BiM has a good handle on her own mind and how it works.  (For example, She wants to prove the teacher wrong, but realizes she does not care enough to warrant the hassle or the risk of taking a subjective course lorded over by a teacher who didn't want her in her class.  Could she do it?  Sure.  Should she?  Nah.  She doesn't want to go Ivy (which is fine with us) and none of us at this house have our personal images and self-esteem wrapped up in the issue of what school either child attends for college, so... )

Now, before I get fileted for not caring enough about academics, let me be clear... yes, academics are important.  But they are not, alone, what gives a person soul, or depth, or happiness.   It doesn't matter how much STUFF a person knows if they know nothing about themselves or the world around them.  In my opinion... And, since this is my blog and my children.... lol.

I think as they race down the ice, er, path of teenagerhood towards adult humanness, there have been two HUGE turning points in their personalities and development.  The first is the aforementioned biofatherus disappearus.  The second is the Team DiPaolo unanimous decision to change swim teams.  The girls had asked on numerous occasions in the year(s) prior if they could go to Bolles or somewhere else for club swimming.  At times BiM, especially, had mentioned not wanting to swim anymore if it was for the old team.  While their times continued to trend in a positive direction, their experiences and attitudes and overall happiness were increasingly trending negatively.

The run up to the state series last fall was... difficult.  The state series itself was...interesting.  The culture of "play time" and "lip service" was wearing on us.  I read somewhere that we teach our children not to trust their instincts... and that teaching them that actually leads to lots of problems down the road that could be avoided.  The philosophy of preserving the girls' instincts governed my parenting long before I read it, and the girls' bullsh*t detectors remain fully operational.   We also operate under the belief that, at some point, if you've given a situation or a person enough opportunity to change or improve, and it has not, then it is time to make a choice:  either give up and accept it the way it is, or move on.  The girls, amazingly, are better at it than I am (which is why *I* am the only one who still feels bad about the situation with the biofather... everyone else has long moved on and left me in the confusing place of being the target who feels bad that the attacker has screwed everything up and is missing out on everything).

Anyway, the girls were ready to move on from the team before I was ready to accept the inevitable.  They are fearless... it didn't occur to them people would look askance, and, in their minds, if people DO look askance, then those people become irrelevant.  The girls know what they want and, apparently, you are either a supportive part of them achieving it or you are invisible.   People pay shrinks thousands of dollars to try and achieve that internal equilibrium, lol.

So, move they did, after several long discussions of possible ramifications and reactions and future scenarios.  BiM, especially, never felt accepted or liked by the older swimmers on the other team.  LiM loved her friends, but hated the pervasive "play time" atmosphere and didn't like how older kids treated BiM.  Neither child appreciated being mocked for wanting to challenge themselves.   As a parent, I never felt comfortable leaving the girls in the hands of the coaching staff, as their lack of oversight, awareness in general, and professionalism scared the hell out of me.

It took all of a single practice at North Florida for the smiles to start coming back on the girls' faces.

Fast forward three months and the difference is profound.  Confidence, attitude, comfort level, energy and enthusiasm for the team and the sport.... all off the charts.  Actually having a coaching staff they trust and respect is a Godsend.  While it is wonderful that their times have dropped, the more important thing to us is that they are now in a program with a plan and with structure, where they are accepted in all their quirkiness (Um, BiM...) and sensitivity (that would be LiM) and where I feel 100% comfortable dropping them at practice and going for a run, or sitting at the pool reading with no clue what lane they are in or what they are doing.

(I feel like I should insert a curling or bus reference here, lol, to keep the theme going....)

As the girls' rocks go hurtling down the ice and we go sweeping madly next to them, occasionally having to leap over them as they careen off a stray rock and change direction slightly, I really do feel like our greatest contribution as parents from here on out is to stay out of their way.  I'm here for guidance, and consultation, and perspective, and to do laundry and pack lunches and dispense hugs as needed, and occasionally remind the hurtling rocks of the boundaries of their path as long as *I* am still sweeping it....

So there you have it.  Parenthood boils down to giving your child a good shove on the ice and staying on, rather than under, the bus.

...that's my why, what's yours?

Welcome to the twilight zone

Wow, four months... a new unrecord for not writing.  I've wanted to write, and Lord knows I've had plenty to write about, but it just hasn't come out.  I could write volumes about the ongoing experience of being the target of a vindictive, wealthy, too-much-time-on-his-hands, arrogant, socially inept, James-Taggert-in-polo-shirts stalker, but I'll save that for another day.  I could write smaller volumes about the inverse relationship between the girls' success in academics and athletics and my training volume.   I could write at length about our decision to leave one swim club and join another, but I think I'll just let some of that intertwine with whatever it is I'm here to write about today.

What am I writing about today....hm... usually things just flow...  (Crickets chirping)

Eight days ago I had just finished icing my knees after a workout and was all of 2 minutes into a much needed shower when my cell phone blew up.  My first hint was when a friend who I haven't spoken to via voice in a year called three times, back to back to back.  Then another swim parent called.  Then the texts started pouring in, the first one of which read "shooting at Episcopal, two dead", which caused me to dive, dripping wet, to the tv remote to turn on local news.  I think I was on the phone briefly with the swim parent friend (Jana?  Was that you?) before trying to get a hold of Matthew, who was in a meeting.  The first words the TV talking face said was "no students involved" which helped bring the heart rate down below 400, but I'd be lying if I said I wasn't shaking like a leaf.  At some point BiM texted from a friends' phone to say they were huddled against the wall with the door locked and the blinds drawn and that they'd heard a scream and some of the kids heard shots.  She asked if I knew what had happened.  The second text I had gotten came from someone who had talked to a JSO buddy, and the word was already there that Dale had been killed.

The cell continued to blow up (and my stupid android chokes on itself after a while,  so I could see stuff coming in but not really respond).  My lovely exhusband even texted about it, so I called him as I drove to ESJ to let him know I'd heard from BiM (gee, bet THAT won't make it into the next whiny attorney letter or manifesto he sends out, huh...).  The drive up was a blur, but I did notice a bunch of other cars with golden "E"s on them racing along as well.  Matthew met me at the gas station across from school, and we joined ranks with the hundreds of other cars waiting in line to get onto campus and down to the main pick up.

The news crews and police units were everywhere.  We sat in line for probably 20+ minutes before I got enough "where are you" and other kinds of texts that I jumped out and walked down to where the kids were waiting while Matthew stayed with the truck.  The scene was controlled chaos.   Teachers and staff had formed a kind of holding pen for the kids, who were lined up 4 and 5 deep along the sidewalk.  Mr. Day, BiM's life management teacher and one of LiM's track coaches, was calling out names of kids' whose parents were there.  Other teachers were directing traffic and escorting kids to cars.  I saw a lot of tears, a lot of vacant looks, and a few kids handling the stress by acting like... kids.

I wandered through the herd until I found the girls, and LiM started to tell me that her first thought when the school went into lockdown was that something had happened to her sister.  The tears came full force when she told me about some "stupid idiot boy" who was cheering because of the extra days off of school.  As we walked back out of the mass towards the truck the girls got big hugs from Mr. Day, we jumped in the truck as it came up and drove out through the chaos.  My lasting memory of those moments will be the looks on the faces of the teachers and staff we know who were directing traffic etc.   It was some awful mixture of horror, shock, and a concerted effort to hold it together for the sake of the kids.

I'm sure everyone handles situations like that differently, as a family and as individuals.  We watched some news for a while, and talked about what we knew.  The girls told their stories (where they were, what they heard and were told, how everyone handled it and reacted... what they thought and felt etc).   Interestingly enough, BiM had heard that Schumerth had been fired and escorted off campus that morning, and as they were huddled in lockdown she turned to her friend and said "I bet it was Mr. Schumerth going nuts"....

And we let the girls drive the conversation, with questions, comments, observations etc.

They decided they wanted to go to swim practice that night, as we were two days away from leaving for FLAGS (Florida Age Group Swimming Champs) and they wanted to be with their friends.

No one slept very well Tuesday night.  Wednesday we were off of school, but the teachers were going to be in their classrooms from 10-11 and counselors were going to be at school.  BiM didn't think she wanted to go, but I told her I thought it was very important to get back on campus ASAP and not have a 12 day hiatus with your last memories of the school being the aftermath of the shooting.  They coordinated with a friend or two and decided going was a good idea.

The interesting part of that morning was listening to them work their way through going, and what they wanted to do to show their feelings.  They discussed what was appropriate to wear, with Lexi choosing chapel dress and a black sweater and Christi picking black pants and a black sweater.   Their dress was very significant to them.   They asked to pick up flowers or something to leave at the growing shrine, so we did.  We pulled onto campus around 9:45.  No one was at the shrine, although three news trucks were parked there, waiting.

As soon as the girls got out to walk over with the flowers, the news vultures swarmed.  Two crews were literally RUNNING from their trucks.  Before I knew it, the girls were surrounded by cameras and reporters.  One, a younger man, the girls liked and said seemed sincere.  They did not care for the other two.  I was about to rescue them when they finally broke away and came to the truck (cameras videotaping the entire thing).

So, both girls ended up on local news stations, as did a number of their friends. Some of the vultures seemed interested in reporting the NEWS; some seemed more intent on sensationalizing or trying to cast blame on the school for not seeing this coming or somehow preventing it.

We spent the next two hours walking around campus, hugging and talking to teachers.  I think it was as much for the teachers' sake as the kids' that I wanted us to go.   I think the teachers did a tremendous job during the lock down and immediate aftermath, but that everyone was pretty much on equal, unknown, awful footing after that... and if I were a teacher I would not have wanted to head home for ten days, OR be alone with my thoughts in my classroom.


BiM reached her limit after a couple of hours, followed quickly by LiM, but both commented on how glad they were to have gone.


The ensuing days, while interrupted by a swim meet (thank goodness) and 4 days out of town, plus a coinciding visit from the grandparents, have brought various conversations and comments with/from the girls on the topic.  As we've spent some time back on campus I think we've started losing some of the jumpiness we all felt in the first days.   At first the girls were upset that someone removed the large makeshift shrine at the entrance; now it does seem to be helping to get back to the new normal.

Some news vultures have tried to paint a picture of ESJ as an unsafe place, lacking in security, which really pisses us off.  Unless we surround that school with a 10' high barbed wire fence and have armed guards, I fail to see how such an unforeseeable, random event could be prevented.  This incessant need to blame -- SOMEONE -- for every random or awful act or event is insanity.   To sit with the vantage of hindsight and declare that someone should have read the tea leaves and predicted an event is arrogance personified, imo.  Sometimes there is indeed negligence, but not always.  ALWAYS there is something someone somewhere would have done differently had s/he known the event would ultimately occur.  But it's easy to look at the backstory from the vantage of knowing the ending.


We in Casa DiPaolo prefer to think that Shane Schumerth was slipping into the morass of mental illness in the way that so many do.... a long slow decline, filled with oddness and, in retrospect, warning signs that could just as easily have remained "oddness" and never culminated in insanity or criminal activity.  (How many people do we really know who are "off" or "odd" or "socially awkward" yet have never garnered headlines for some random act of insanity?  If we sounded the warning bells for every quirky, difficult, unreasonable, or oddly behaving person on this planet there would not be many left roaming freely.)  We prefer not to think of this as an act of evil, but rather as an act of a man who mentally and emotionally snapped.... yet snapped in a way that did NOT include killing children.  Go figure.


In moments of idleness I wonder... what would have happened if Dale had not been in her office?  Would he have backtracked one door to the science class?   Continued on 50 feet or so to the Spanish classrooms?  Walked the campus trying to find her?  Or killed himself in her office as a statement for her to find?  Somehow, I have to think that Dale would have chosen the way it played out if the only other options involved harm to students and other staff members.   Which of course brings us to one of the first questions the girls asked:  do you think she died thinking he was going to shoot more people, or did she live long enough to see him shoot himself...?


Let's go with the latter.

...that's my why, what's yours?

"All that is necessary for the triumph of evil is that good men do nothing."

I grew up in Pennsylvania.  I spent every fall weekend at PSU home games, went to PSU swim camp, and belong to a family of PSU grads and die-hard supporters.  It was my dream, until a shoulder injury derailed it, to swim at Penn State.  To say I grew up deeply influenced by the aura of Penn State, Joe Paterno, and what was a very special atmosphere and philosophy is an understatement.  Admittedly at times I've been frustrated, even angry, at some members of my family's eager willingness to prioritize Penn State over all else, but I've remained a believer and a fan.  And, I write this knowing full well I may end up excommunicated from my family because of my views, but damn it I am angry.

When the awfulness in State College PA first broke I wrote to some of my friends and family about my anger -- primarily anger at Sandusky for ruining what we all thought was special and honorable, and at Paterno, Curley, Spanier etc for allowing it to happen. 

But now, my anger encompasses more than that -- it includes the people who refuse to see facts, who refuse to see reality, and who refuse to accept that someone we've all idolized completely blew it -- and we're not talking about blowing a call, or losing a game, or even misjudging a recruit.  We are talking about a series of decisions that, in part, permitted a monster to harm who knows how many more children.  I've heard the outrage directed at, say, Jim Tressell for his complicity in the OSU scandal -- and this is FAR worse than a stupid NCAA violation.  And the hypocrisy makes me livid.

I listen to the excuses people throw out for choosing -- and it IS a choice -- or supporting someone's choice to stand by and do nothing or to step away from a situation involving an abused child.  I've heard "politics" and "job security" and "fear" cited, among other things.  I've heard "what more could I do" or "it wasn't my call to make" and other justifications.  I've heard people talk about how Paterno discharged his legal obligations by going to the AD, as if that makes it ok -- as if that would be ok if it were YOUR child in that shower.

And, as an aside, why is that argument applicable to Paterno but not to the AD or Schultz?  Didn't they discharge THEIR legal duties by going to Spanier?  

It's insane.  Whether it is "he didn't know" or "he did what he could" or "why isn't the focus on Sandusky, he's the bad guy?" or "this isn't fair, Paterno's done so much for the University" etc., the defense of this is insane.  Years of service does NOT buy you the right to look away.  It does NOT buy you the right to not bear responsibility for your role -- through omission or commission -- in allowing such a heinous crime to continue being committed.

Let's be real.  Sandusky didn't suddenly decide he wanted to diddle little boys in 1998, when it first came to light.    He had 6 adopted children and fostered others.  He founded an organization in 1977 that focused on underpriviledged boys.  He had boys staying AT HIS HOUSE, in a special basement room.  He had boys traveling, solo, to away games and staying ALONE in his team hotel room. 

  His relationship with Paterno, according to accounts, was strained for years before he retired suddenly in '99.  In 1998 a parent came forward because her son came home with wet hair after showering with Sandusky.  She taped him admitting to being naked, in a shower, with a child, and lathering him up.  This was reported to campus police, and, apparently to State College police.

And I am supposed to believe Paterno didn't know about it?  That he didn't know Sandusky was on tape, admitting to showering with the kid?  That he didn't know kids were traveling with the team and staying alone with Sandusky in the hotel room?

Stop and consider that, for a second.  If you knew your friend or colleague (or your kid's coach) was staying alone in a hotel room with a revolving door of unrelated children, what would you say or think?  At a minimum, wouldn't you say "hey man, that looks REALLY bad" and instruct that person to cease doing anything that could be misinterpreted or open to accusation?  Especially when you are someone whose entire career has been built on the moral high ground?  Or would you equivocate and whimper "it's none of my business" and ignore it?

How can anyone with a straight face say that somehow Paterno was unaware of what is being termed a a "massive" police file created in '98?  Does anyone think it is a coincidence that Sandusky, who had been called the "heir apparent" to Paterno, suddenly, some say shockingly, retired after the '99 Alamo Bowl?  (Where, incidentally, he had one of the victims identified in the Grand Jury report with him).

And why would a set of janitors be "afraid for their jobs" after witnessing a FORMER football coach performing oral sex on a child in the team showers if it wasn't well known that nothing would happen to him?

And here, again, do a bit of role playing.  You are at work.  You see, or hear of, an employee regularly coming and using the company gym with a variety of unrelated children.  You already know he has been accused of, and admitted to, impropriety.

According to the homers, it would be unreasonable to think you might find that of concern.   Some, less homery, suggest perhaps your lack of comment stems from your arrogance and refusal to admit you, or something, could be wrong.

Me, I say, you have to TRY to not "know" given that set of circumstances.  And, once the incident in '02 came to light, you have to just plain not care to not "know".

So many stupid choices were made in '02.  Why didn't McQueary, who was what, 28, beat the shit out of Sandusky the second he walked in on him and a boy he said looked ten?!  Why did he leave them alone, walk out, and call his FATHER and not the police?  Why did his father do nothing? Why did it take another day after being told for Paterno to talk to Curley?  Why did it take another week and a HALF for Curley to follow up with McQueary?!

And, why didn't Paterno follow up?  Or, worse, DID he follow up (because I find it unfathomable that such a potential scandal could go on within the athletic department without Paterno being consulted and keeping his finger on the pulse of it's progression) and acquiesce in it's being swept under the rug.

THIS is where I get the most angry, because THIS is where the excuses start flowing.  THIS is where people start defending the indefensible.   There is no way I am buying that Paterno didn't grill McQueary like a filet for details before he went to Curley.  NO.  F***ING.  WAY.  That man controls everything.  He is even controlling, or attempting to, his exit under these circumstances (announcing he would retire at the end of the season and instructing the Trustees to not waste any time discussing him!).  There is no way he did not ask for, and get details.  NO way.  This isn't some teaching assistant in the geology department.  This isn't some campus shuttle driver.  This is JOE PATERNO.  The face of the University.  The man who put the University on the map.  But how many homers are insisting it is plausible he didn't get details and didn't follow up after he talked to Curley.

Seriously.  Are you listening to yourselves?!  It really truly makes me wonder if some of the people so strenuously defending Paterno perhaps have made the same choice sometime in their lives -- to look away from a child's mistreatment (or perhaps to inflict it themselves).  Perhaps if the great Paterno makes the same choice it makes their own choice morally defensible and easier on the palate...

And then it gets worse from there.  After the '02 cover up he was supposedly told not to bring boys on campus.  Think about that.  Take your predilections elsewhere.   We're copacetic as long as you anally rape ten year olds OFF CAMPUS.

and yet, he continued to come on campus, and continued to bring kids on campus.  But, of course, the homers would have us believe Paterno was oblivious to THAT too.

Seriously.

I don't feel sorry for him.  I don't think he is being mistreated.  I don't think he should be allowed to finish out the season and hear the accolades that WOULD have been his if he hadn't made what looks like a long series of awful, hopefully inexplicable choices.

I hear people saying that the focus should be on Sandusky, but I disagree.  This is so much more than the actions of one scumbag.   Sandusky committed awful crimes, some facilitated by his position with the University.  Businesses bear liability for the illegal actions of their employees.  There's an entire law school course about that topic, in fact.  An employee's actions can stain the image of a company -- but what really dictates how MUCH it stains that image is the company's reaction to those actions.  And significant representatives of Penn State took an ink blot stain and poured a barrel of crude oil on it.

The issue CANNOT be simply about the actions of Sandusky, because those actions were facilitated by the fumbling, bumbling, possibly concertedly intentional INACTIONS of some of the most powerful representatives of the University.  They messed up.  More than that, they ruined lives.  And even the 50+ years of other goodness doesn't warrant a pass for Paterno.  (Frankly, if he messed this up so badly, how can anyone think he has been above reproach in every other aspect of his career over the course of that time?!)  As long as Spanier and Paterno continue to represent the University, it will be ABOUT the University.  How much clearer can it be?  An employee of the University commited heinous, unfathomable crimes, and other, more powerful employees of that same University did nothing.  Legally and morally, they are individually liable, and, like it or not, their actions as representatives of their employer imputes that SAME liability (on both counts) to the University.

Yes, it is awful to think that a career ostensibly built on goodness and service is going to end and be tainted by this mess.  But, for GOD"S sake, could we please remember that PATERNO (and everyone else) made free choices, of free will, based on their own code of conduct and morality.  No one did this TO them.  They chose it themselves.   It is awful, and depressing, and disappointing, and discouraging, and sad.  It's all those things.  But it is also their OWN damn fault, and defending them or excusing them is disgusting.   Shame on all of you.

...that's my why, what's yours?

Hello again

Four months since my last post... that's sad :(

It was the best of times, it was the worst of times... oh, wait, someone used that already... and I can't really say it's been the worst of times either.  It's been... challenging.  From a Team DiPaolo perspective, the summer went very well.  LiM continued to recover nicely from her PCS, BiM tore up the pool swimming-wise, and we had a relaxing and happy summer.   My triathlon season went well, M's races went well (6th at Nationals!), LiM qualified for Ironkids Nationals again in her first (and only) kids' race this summer.  No real vacations, but a nice trip to PA to see family and friends (and race the Philly Tri)...

On the flip side, the exH reared his sociopathic head, refused to pay for the girls' tuition (after it was due) and filed two motions against me in court in July (perhaps to be discussed in another post), and LiM incurred another concussion when she was hit in the head after the kids' tri.  After a few weeks of quiet inactivity she emerged from the setback happy and raring to get to school and high school swimming.  Alas, the exH has not gone away so easily or quickly.

BiM's 9th grade camping trip, back in August, has led to 4 weeks of various viruses and illnesses and disruption of swimming, culminating with trips to Mayo, various tests, and a week of Mother-ordered sleep.  Now, with less than 3 weeks until Districts and the start of the state series, BiM is scrambling to try and make up for a lost month, and I'm holding my breath hoping this season that started out so promising isn't a complete loss for her. 

Our district (and hence our region) is by far the toughest in the state thanks to the presence of Bolles, who automatically fills 4 out of the (up to) 8 spots that move on in every event.  This does not leave much room for error in a district that includes Bishop Kenny, Providence, Fernandina, and a smattering of other strong swimmers spread throughout the other schools.  Oh, and us, of course.  It is entirely possible that one or more swimmers will swim a time that would, in one of the other regions, pass all the way through to states, yet won't finish top 8 in our district.  The pressure to perform in the prelim (morning) swims is intense.  A month ago BiM was eying top 16 in two individual events at states; now she may not make it out of the district.

LiM, on the other hand, is on a rampage.   Her times are dropping and she is swimming with intensity and purpose.  Unfortunately, she too is probably looking at missing regions by one spot depending on who swims the 500 free.  We keep talking about swimming for personal best times, not places, but the reality is she is going to be VERY upset if she hits her goal time and still ends up missing regions.

Now, the adults among us might be thinking that the fact that LiM is even in a position to compete at this level is an absolute miracle given everything that kid has been through this year.  On the drive back from Tampa last weekend LiM and I discussed the concussion and its aftermath, and she informed me that she is "not the same person" she was before the ordeal.  I agree. 

For the past few months I have noticed that she (and her sister to a certain extent) have an unusual sense of purpose and internal drive when it comes to swimming (and academics).  LiM comes at her events, which are unusual events for a kid her age to want to swim in the first place, with a strategy and analytical view that most kids don't have (or don't show).  She knows pacing, splits, race strategy... she has a clear idea of how she wants to swim and what she wants to accomplish... and she is taking steps to achieve those goals.

LiM informed me that since emerging from the fog she thinks she is more mature than her peers, and that she appreciates things more.  "I used to get kind of tired of practice and not want to do the harder stuff sometimes, but now I can't wait and I love how good it feels after it's over."  Where a lot of people look at things as an imposition or hassle (like homework), LiM just chugs along, happy to be able to do it.  "I did a lot of thinking because I couldn't do anything else" is how she describes it.

When the darkness is closing in and everything seemed so bleak, I clung (and tried to encourage her to cling) to the hope that, somehow, someday, she would emerge stronger and more resilient from the experience.  Always in the back of my mind was the fear that she would change in the opposite direction -- become bitter, or afraid, or tentative, or negative.  She buzzed by the truck the other day after school to grab her swim stuff, rattled off a string of stellar grades, smirked and said "Nothing can stop me"...  and all I could do was smile and marvel.

The quarter ends next Thursday.  BiM has struggled (for her, for me it would be good grades) a bit in a couple of her classes as she adapts to actual deduction and application of concepts rather than straight up memorization.  Perhaps another post I will write is whether allowing her to start school "early" has been a positive or a negative.  It is easy to forget sometimes that she is the second youngest kid in her class, yet is a high level varsity athlete AND carrying a full load of honors classes.   She still has a chance to land straight As (sigh).  LiM...well, she has target lock on a full slate of A+ grades, although she may "only" get As in one or two classes.   The interesting thing is, they love getting high grades, but shrug off the random lower test grade and won't blink particularly if a quarter grade isn't what they wanted particularly.  Somehow they've hit the sweet spot of being highly motivated without being highly strung.  It's fascinating.

As for me, and training/racing.... well, that all came to a screeching halt after Bfas 3 in July.  I had already pulled out of IMLou before the bully attacked again with his court crap, and ended up pulling out of the Race to Miami a few weeks ago thanks to bronchitis and a general lack of motivation.  As the keeper of the stress for Team DiPaolo (when it comes to dealing with the Captain), I've hit the wall.  And, frankly, racing just doesn't seem that important right now given everything else -- especially the importance of shielding the girls as much as possible to give them as much time and normalcy as I can muster for them. 

The Captain waited until summer was over to launch his attacks, thus guaranteeing disruption right when the girls began high school (BiM) and high school swim season.  Given that school and swimming are very important to both of them, and he damn well knows that, his timing is curious.  As I juggle the legal issues (discovery, document production, communicating with counselors/attorneys, the attendant stress and worry) and the girls' schedules/academics/doctor's appointments/counselor appointments all the while trying to keep them in the water in spite of the Captain's attorney's declaration that "extracurricular activities" should take a backseat to his demands.... well, it doesn't leave much in the tank.

It is unsettling as many friends gear up for Kona and others are training for firsts (first marathons, half marathons etc) and I drift along with no goals and no energy to set any.  Training and pursuing goals has been a big part of who I am, and losing that now is really awful timing as the stress level rises and the one positive way I have to deal with it (exercise) becomes probably the last thing I need to be doing right now from a physical health perspective.   The symptoms I have now (awful tightness and pain in my chest, shortness of breath, crazy fatigue, rattling/wheeze in my lungs) remind me very much of 7 or 8 years ago when my virus buddy attacked the lining of my heart.  Now, as then, I seem relegated to sucking on an inhaler and waiting for it to run it's course. 

Feeling useless, pointless, and completely unable to control some major aspects of my life is not a pleasant existence.  For now, I'm just trying to hunker down and focus on keeping the girls on track (see next post) and get through this time.  Being under seige by a bully who is a complete waste of carbon and space is the added insult to the injury of feeling like, other than whatever positive effect I am having on the girls, I am wasting precious time right now.

...that's my why, what's yours?




 

Crying uncle... or, maybe, laughing uncle...

Back in... february? march?  I closed my eyes and hit "register now" for IMLou 2011.  I did it after much thought and analysis and consideration of the summer schedule and why I wanted to race it again.  With a unanimous "ay" vote from the team I believed I could balance training and family properly and be prepared to RACE it this time.  I did this in spite of the on-going PCS battle and all it's limitations on our world.  And, for a few months, I was very happy with how training progressed.  I was running well AND consistently, which was the key to a better race than last year.

And then my right knee fell apart.  Not in a fixable way, of course.  Just in a "wow that's really full of tendonitis" kind of way.  A "might hurt, might not" kind of way.  A "feels like it's going to implode, but doesn't, for 5 miles" but then "falls apart completely at the 5 mile 1 yard mark" kind of way.

Ok, I thought,  I can water jog, and elliptical, to supplement.   Nurse it back to health.  That'll take some juggling and adjusting, but, it'll be fine.  I can carry on and stay the course for Lou.

Then Lim got C-Diff.  And the PCS continued.  And the knee... stayed squirrely.  And the water jogging and elliptical hurt too.

And I started looking at the dwindling number of weeks and the time constraints and the running constraints and my goals... and realized pretty quickly that the cost-benefit analysis was becoming rather weighted towards the cost side.   I lay awake several nights considering the possible options:  push the knee in training and break before or during the race; baby the knee in training and probably run an awful marathon again; pursue a moderate approach to training and risk cramping and/or dying and/or breaking after 6 or 10 miles of the marathon; and, of course, having a great race in spite of everything.

And then I watched JC's freakishly awful experience at IMTX (in spite of her being far more prepared than I could ever hope to be...) and realized that, even if the run-up to the race goes perfectly, which mine would not (by definition:  motherhood, when made a priority = chaotic unexpected demands on time), the whole race can turn into a fiasco before your very eyes, and there is nothing you can do to predict OR avoid it.

And the scale tilted all the way to COST.  So I emailed the Ironman people and requested a withdrawal.   Being the customer service oriented group they are, I have yet to hear back from them, but, the decision is made.

And within a few days of sending that email, Lim landed in the ER with a 103' fever, which resulted in the loss of an entire night of sleep and now, four days later, a very disrupted training schedule remains thanks to a lingering sleep-deprivation headache and tired tired muscles.

Now, I know my decision surprised some friends, and even disappointed them...and I greatly appreciate the support.  But, the decision was a lot easier for me than one might think, and I have only the tiniest sliver of regret.

Triathlon, while a passion, is not my life.  My family is my life.  At the end of my time on this planet, I do not expect to be holding hands with my tri bike, nor do I expect my awards or training log to sit around drinking wine and sharing stories of my life at my funeral.  I do not consider it an imposition, or even a sacrifice, really, to "give up" the pursuit of personal goals for the greater good of the Team.

Our daughters are in the part of their lives where their life course is being charted.   They will have exactly one high school and college career as humans, athletes and students.  Their attitudes towards and outlook on life are being formed and set NOW.  Call me old fashioned, but I think that needs to weigh heavily in the cost-benefit analysis that is the serious pursuit of a personal passion as an adult (in this case, triathlon).

I don't have particular personal "dreams" other than raising happy, healthy children and enjoying time with the man I love (that would be you, Matthew).  I love to train and race, and enjoy having a goal race or two to strive for each season.  There are a long list of races that are on my "would be cool to do someday" list, but, honestly, I won't lose sleep over not doing one or all of them.  Yeah, it would be really cool to say I qualified for Kona or made an Ironman race podium.  But, I don't "need" to try for that, or accomplish that.  In fact, I can't really think of any single thing (besides being a good mother, wife, and person) I rank so importantly in my life that failure to pursue or accomplish it would ruin my day or cause me angst.

It's why pulling out of 70.3 Worlds last November when I already had the athlete wristband on was not that difficult a decision for me.  It's why I had already decided that, even if by some miracle I earned a Kona slot at IM Lou, I was not going to go this year.

Others are free to debate whether it is a personality strength or flaw that I do not want to put myself first under those circumstances.  It would not make me happy to do so, and NOT doing so does not make me UNHAPPY.  So, flaw or strength, you decide for yourself.  I'm good with it.

I think I learned my lesson about Ironman races for now... IF I decide to register for one again it will have to be one that is held during the school year, and outside of high school swim season (and, probably, high school track season).  It would need to be NOT at the end of the summer, or will need to wait until one or more of the girls are driving.   There is a limit to how much I can juggle and adjust and accommodate, and I think serious Ironman training and travel exceeds that limit right now.  (and by serious, I mean, going to race and give myself the best shot at a podium finish/Kona slot as possible).

  I was willing to contort myself dementedly this summer to train for and compete in IM Lou in August ONLY if I could compete at the level I wanted to this time -- and that was entirely dependent on my preparation (which I could somewhat control) and the race Gods (which I cannot control but can try to appease with sacrificial and superstitious offerings).  When my quirky knee reduced my control over the preparation, and JC's experience emphasized that the race Gods don't NEED a reason to smite you down to size, the costs to Team DiPaolo far exceeded the benefits to Sara.  End of story.

So, what now?  The BFAS sprints are fun, but not exactly goal races.  Matthew has the 5i50 National Championships in Iowa in September which, had I decided this a few weeks faster I could have signed up for too (although I kind of like that it is HIS show, alone).  There's the Hot in August that I may sign up for here in Jax.  There's a cool race in Miami in late September that, if EHS would ever decide what the swim schedule is for the fall, Matthew and I would love to do.  Beyond that, it really depends on what time, knees, schedules, and inclination dictate.

And, just because I've wanted to race a race close to home in the hopes some friends and family will come watch and hang out afterwards, we are going to road trip to the Philadelphia Insurance Tri (I will do the Oly and M will race the sprint) at the end of June.  There is always the chance my knee will crap out on me, but limping a 10k is much more palatable than limping a marathon, so... off we go :-)

  ...that's my why, what's yours? 

The death of civility

Something I've been wanting to write about for a while now is what I titled "the death of civility" because I can't really figure out a less dramatic name for it.

The girls and I first discussed this topic after a trip to the Alligator Farm or zoo earlier this spring (we went to both and experienced the same thing at each, and I cannot recall which was which).  Now, I can be completely oblivious on occasion to the world around me. We ALL can. The main difference I see is that a very small percentage of people gracefully realize their obliviousness, while the vast majority just bull along without a clue. Or without caring. Or both.

From the time the girls were old enough to remotely comprehend, they have been taught manners and consideration. Now, as any parent of a teen knows, this is an ongoing and, often (at home, at least), losing battle. The real measure of whether that lesson is sinking in is how the kid treats nonfamily members, and especially how they act when they think no one is looking. BUT, if the parents don't start teaching it early and often, the kids have no hope of ever learning it.

So, because I've drilled certain behaviors into their cranium (with varying "at-home" success), they were truly horrified at the complete lack of manners of both kids and their parents on several recent occasions. A simple example: the girls wait their turn to move close to a viewing window and, in spite of Lim quite obviously taking pictures and Bim standing next to her pointing out something in the viewing area, one or more children, ranging in age from barely walking to 10 or 11, literally shove their way in front of the girls. Often they are accompanied by their (generally fat and always pushy) parents or the parents stand just back, encouraging them. Regardless, the parents are quite aware of the situation. On all but one occasion, the parents said NOTHING. Not a word. Not a "wait your turn" or "say excuse me" or "that girls is trying to take a picture". Nothing.

So too in the movie theater, where apparently YOU have the right to listen to and enjoy MY toddler's continuous babbling and outbursts during Thor.  And guess what, YOU better think it is just as cute as I do, because if you don't I am going to get very angry at your rudeness.  And don't even THINK that I might clue in to how disruptive my little darling is being and take him out.  HE has the right to be here too!

So too at school, where the "table roulette" game is in full throttle in middle school. For the uninitiated, table roulette involves one or more girls sitting down at a table and, upon another girl attempting to sit at that table, either informing the interloper (their own classmate) that that seat belongs to (some other girl nowhere in sight) OR getting up and moving tables, leaving the interloper sitting alone at the table. Now, the minis are FAR from perfect, but they'd rather vote democrat than ever do that to another kid. I don't think it requires any special parenting skills to instill a sense of fair and proper treatment in your kids.... And I thank God that mine seem to get it, even if that means they are occasionally on the receiving end of it.

I DO think that kids acting like that are a direct reflection on the fact that so many parents have checked out of parenting and have zero idea what their kids are really like OR how they act when no one is watching. A kid having a computer, facebook account, and tv of their own may make parenting a snap, but it seems to be contributing mightily to the death of civility. IMO lol.

You don't have to look far to see that kids are simply emulating what they see adults around them doing. How many times have you been walking along and had someone obliviously meander across your path, completely unaware they did so even though you practically tripped over them? How often does someone's inane yet insanely loud conversation on their cell phone carry from their bathroom stall, or across the restaurant, or through the line you are standing in?   How often does someone actually wave "thanks" when you let then in in traffic anymore? How many times have you been sitting at a light and watched the person in front of you lower their car window and nonchalantly flick a lit cigarette onto the road (their own personal ashtray, thank you very much)?  Even in the photography course Lim and I are taking -- full grown, supposedly professional adults yabbering through the professor's speaking, or interrupting with completely moronic "look at ME" questions.


I've had people stand with their (overly ample) rear ends protruding over me and into my face as they stand in a restaurant or coffee shop obliviously babbling to their friends.  I've been hit with pocket books and bags slung over the shoulders of people who either don't have any spacial recognition or nerve endings or just don't care.  At swim practice we watch kids (often kids of some of the coaches, for goodness' sake!) jumping into OCCUPIED lanes while people are swimming, or throwing toys and balls into the pool and disrupting practice, or running madly through parents and kids sitting on the deck -- with nary a word of admonition (from adults) or apology (from the kids).

The "isn't my kid the cutest thing ever" attitude and prevailing checked out parenting style (how many times have you seen mom or dad too engrossed in a tv show, cell phone, or conversation to notice what the little darling is doing -- ranging from what they are doing in public to what they are doing in a restaurant to what they are doing on facebook) has contributed to a growing mass of people who thing that they should get what they want, when they want it, not matter how rude they are being.

All the drivel about boosting people's self-confidence missed the fact that, generally, you need to have some BASIS for that self-confidence.  The fact that you exist and take up space does NOT mean you are worth special treatment.  When did we stop teaching our kids to wait their turn, to say please and thank you, to be polite, to be respectful and to act appropriately to the situation?  And NO, plunking your child in front of a DVD player to keep him or her quiet at the restaurant is NOT teaching them anything.

I've decided most of the basic misbehavior in this world is caused by a combination of self-centeredness and self-esteem gone viral.  Everything about ME is more important than everything about YOU.  You may be driving but *I* am in a hurry.  You may be watching a movie but *I* want to see it too and *I* have a young child so the only way *I* can watch it is if I bring him, so I do.  Where is the basic consideration we are supposed to be teaching our kids and practicing in our own world?  Where is the admonition from people when others trample on those basic rules of behavior?

This, ladies and gentlemen, is why I prefer dogs.  :-)


...that's my why, what's yours?

"I don't like time, it goes too fast"

That quote emerged from Bim earlier this week, causing me to point out that, if she thinks time at 13 goes quickly, she will REALLY not enjoy it at 43. Which is, of course, how old I turned last week. I knew it was coming because the body markers wrote it on my leg at St Anthony's, but still...

In no particular order of appearance, here is what is going on these days with Team DiPaolo:

Lim is basically back to normal academically in terms of grades and effort required. Unfortunately, she still has not gotten rid of the headaches and exertion induced dizziness. We've now tried acupuncture and extensive physical therapy, and she has made distinct improvements in terms of handling headache triggers. But the headache lives on. Yesterday she had her second round of trigger point injections in two of the nerves in the back of her head. These are VERY painful and very difficult for me to watch her receive (nevermind how awful they are TO receive...) and, like everything else, seem to help a bit but don't seem to be the magic bullet. Now, the Dr did say that, based on the results she has reported, the next shot should go into the C2/C3 joint. That would require twilighting Lexi and the use of some fancy equipment to guide the injection. After that, we are out of ideas.

She has resumed swimming on a limited basis and is determinedly stretching her limits with the goal of attending Gator swim camp in a few weeks. While she may end up being physically ready for it, I am not sure +I+ will be emotionally ready for it, as I still worry, a lot, about her. She wants to try running again, and, like everything else, I anticipate it being a difficult and slow adaptation to it. She has not given up hope of doing a kid's tri or sprint this season, but... We'll see.

So far she does seem to hace emerged from the C-Diff ok. I guess we won't really know for cErtain until her next round of antibiotics.

She has begun taking photography classes (tiny Lim and a classroom full of adults) at UNF and really enjoys it. We are planning to take all four courses, each 3 weeks long, this summer and I have spoken to the professor about doing some private instruction too. He thinks she hasan amazing eye, especially for someone so young, and the key to her development is her learning the proper technical use of the camera etc. This is foreign territory to me (artistic I am not) and he says he has never worked with someone that young, but... If she is truly interested in it and has a passion for it, why not...

So, the long and slow journey all the way back for Lim continues. It may very well be that the path her life takes in the future will find obvious roots in the past four months.

As for Bim - she continues to chug along. Five finals from now she will be a...high school freshman. Wait, she is only 13! Of course she LOOKS 18, lol. In general she is happy and focused on her school work and swimming. She decided to race the Meek and Mighty kid's tri searlier this month, probably mainly because her sister was not and she would not have to deal with her own compulsion to compare her results to Lim's. She proudly ran the entire mile run, and was happy with her effort. Her future will probably not include many more tris, although she is available to do the swim leg of anyone's relay ;-)

I sit bemused at times at how grown up she is becoming. As I write this we are sitting in Starbucks - me wity my ipad and coffee and her with her laptop and chocolate milk. She is working on a study guide for her history final tomorrow abd I doubt most people would believe she is only in 8th grade. The visible change in her demeanor, confidence, and happiness since last Oct has been profound... Although one of the few things that will change that is mention of or reminders of her biofather.

Matthew ia the planned subject of another blog, so for now suffice it to say that Matthew is doing very well and surprising himself (although NOT the rest of us) in his triathlon pursuits.

I am a boring topic. Let's just say that I will be spending a lot of time driving to and from, or AT, Episcopal this summer, which means I need to be very grateful that my children are not embarrassed by the sight of me running, swimming, or sitting on a bike trainer during practices. Both girls have practice from 7a-9a Monday through Friday. Bim will swim and do dryland with the Senior group from 2-5p on M, W, and F while L will do the same from 4-6p (yes, that means we will be there from 2-6p three days a week). Both have Sat morning practices and both will swim in the Gawd-Awful river city meets on Thurs from 4p until the last heat of kids swimming illegal breaststroke ends sometime around 9, assuming no weather delays. I don't know whether to ride the trainer for 5 hours during the meet or use those days as my "one day per week of alcohol consumption". Or both.

Throw darts at stay at home mom's all you want with regard to how easy we have it (training time included), but I doubt many would willingly trade for that schedule, lol. Time will tell if I can dredge up the energy AND discipline, nevermind keep the knees onboard, to actually have a chance to reach my IMKY goals. If not, oh well. Time is running out on my time with the girls, and my job is to help them identify and reach THEIR goals and give then as much positive momentum into their futures as I possibly can... And if that means sweating my ass off at the Episcopal pool 6 or 8 hours a day, and being a glorifief sherpa and shuttle service, so be it, lol.


...that's my why, what's yours?