Home sweet.. something something.

The 9 hour flight from Chicago and the huge time difference make for a long day. I am about 3 bpm shy of a coma, and kids passed out at 6 pm.

The last days in Chicago were excellent. I swam in the dark in Lake Michigan with the Waterstraats until lightning chased us out. Then we tried to outrun a tornado in Aunt Rebecca's Suburban, which made me feel like Helen Hunt in Twister, except I wasn't bitching at Bill Paxton, I was badgering Liz & Chris about whether we really had to stop and hide under furniture as instructed by the radio. Lightning is rare in Hawaii. Driving back into the city I couldn't count to three without seeing this.. it was better than fireworks.

We saw Ken Griffey Jr.'s White Sox debut from the bleachers, but didn't last the entire 14 innings of the game. I did, however, drink beer from a plastic cup and eat peanuts for dinner. We ate at the Original Pancake House, made one more pass of Barack's place (no Barack), bartered our way past a two-hour line at the Shedd and reintroduced the kids to their Great Grandpa Bob. And then we said our good-byes. We miss the grandparents already.. the kids were inquiring about a Chicago move for most of the flight. They've only seen it in the summer.

And something else happened in Chicago. In four days of training I ran 26 miles, swam 7.5k and rode my first long ride of 70+ miles. Kona is less than ten weeks away, and I am actually training for it. Finally. It took me too long and in the end the recovery from ITBS required some expert-overruling, many skipped or wimpy workouts, and a whole lot of patience and trust that I know my body best. I know the formula now. I spent some time with a Chicagoland sports med guru whom people travel from continents away to see. He showed me the weaknesses that got me into such an ugly place and how to keep it from ever happening again. He also told me I must give up the 24/7 slipper-wearing.. what?!? I can't handle cold turkey, so it will be a slow wean.

This weekend I'll race 2.4 miles from Pipeline to Waimea, ride up and back to/from the race for 100+ miles, and run 2+ hours. Let's go, Kona.

Team Tiny kicks my ass.

Check out my sweet loaner. I love this bike! I'm often told I should ride a 56, but look at that seat post - at it's max. Apparently I have no torso. This bike belongs to Chris. He was kind enough to loan it to me for our ride yesterday. So that he and his wife could kick my ass in the corn fields.

There was an organized century going on with an 85 mile option. Their warm-up pace was a little quick for me.. maybe my body was not fully recovered from the naked-people (and the run) last night. Then the real riding started. Here is my big excuse: I am fat and out of shape and Liz and Chris are stud cyclists. I held on to Chris' wheel for an hour or so, knowing all along that I've re-injured the IT band twice now by riding out of my league because I didn't want to get dropped. And I don't have time to keep taking a month off to recover. It was ego vs. health, and the wimpy conservative option won and I said goodbye.

The ride was gorgeous. Empty country roads, sunny weather, corn for miles, little rollers, and beautiful homes with big red barns. Cute little towns every 10 or 15 miles. The Illinoisans scoffed when I said it was so pretty, but it was a lovely change. It was also educational: I saw a vole (Liz ID'd it, I thought it was a mouse), a live caterpillar, a dead chipmunk, a dead possum and a dead skunk, so it was pretty much like a trip to the zoo in Hawaii. No fornicators, thankfully, I couldn't handle that two days in a row. Fortunately, I did not think of the Children of the Corn until hours after the ride was done.

It seems many turn signs had disappeared. I would be riding along and hear someone honking from behind me and pointing out a turn. Chris and Liz came up from behind at one point, when they should have been miles ahead of me. I jumped back on and we got lost together for a while. Intersections became a crapshoot. And then there it was: my parent's street. Probably 20 miles from the middle school we started riding at. Buh-bye, Team Waterstraat. I pulled into their driveway at 70 miles, just 2 minutes longer than my planned ride.

If Liz hadn't already blogged I would be worried that they were still out in the corn.

Today was a 90 minute base run at 6 am. We're still out in Yorkville. Ninety minutes in Yorkville makes for a lot of turns and loops. I kind of felt like Billy from the Family Circus.

Back in Hyde Park today so that I can return to my Barack stalking. And I think I've convinced Liz to come swim in the big lake with me this afternoon..

My EYES!!

Saturday came and I was off to an early start in the borrowed Suburban. I drove through three towns in a row that did not have Starbucks. I followed Jen's perfect directions to Lake in the Hills. Take 47 to 72 to 59 or something. I kept thinking: turn left at the corner of soy and corn, just past the red barn.


The race was two mile-long laps. I use the word mile loosely, as in, there is no freaking way that was just two miles. It had better have been long, or else I quit. It was a nice little race and it was fun to see Jen H, Liz & Chris. Jen is the only one in this picture whose smile is genuine, because she's the only one looking forward to swimming. Liz and I are smiling through our dread. Contrary to what Liz says on her blog, I was not trying to talk people out of swimming. I was merely suggesting other options. Like fun things we could do.


The scarring came later in the day. I went out to run at 6 pm at a park in Yorkville that my mom recommended. Nice wide, smooth trails.. perfect for my first double-digits run in months. I made my way along the shore of some river for the first 20 minutes. Let me stop here to say that I am not all that into porn. And were I into porn, I would probably not be into outside in broad daylight on the asphalt buck naked white skin everywhere morbid obesity porn. But today, it seems, was not my lucky day. I came out of the woods and there it was. Ten feet in front of me. At least 600 pounds of naked human doing it in the parking lot. On the asphalt. Children were fishing 100 yards back, just around the bend. In the split second that my eyes were open and I was realizing what it was I was seeing, it was burned onto my brain forever. And then he looked up and saw me. As I shut my eyes (I ran out of that parking lot blindly) I saw him start to get up! Oh, my, god, anything but that.



Illinois is a crazy place. Tomorrow I ride four hours with Liz and Chris. They loaned me a bike, a helmet, and are bringing spare shorts in case I forgot those too. Here's hoping the worst thing we will see is roadkill.



PS. How glad are you that I don't carry my camera while running?

Summer... continued.

Seems it was just yesterday that I was complaining about school being out. Today is the first day of school. Three kids all in one place.. oh, the simplicity! Kindergarten, 2nd and 3rd grade, here they come. Henry would like the world to see his giant front teeth. And his tonsils, apparently.

To celebrate the end of summer.. we're going to extend summer.  Tonight we head to Chicago. Mom of the Year here planned a week trip to my parents' city without consulting the school calendar. Oops. On the agenda we have Shedd Aquarium, Lincoln Park Zoo, Cubs, Sox, and long runs around the folks' hood keeping an eye out for their neighbor Barack. I also intend to hop on ELF's wheel and get pulled around Chicago's burbs (I never promised I would work, Liz.) The last time I visited Chicago, CY and I duked it out on Lake Shore Drive.. the Chicago Triathlon is so much fun! I wish I was traveling to race, but the legs are not yet ready. This is me last visit.. hurting.. and running so scared from that girl with her Y-name on her butt.

Yeah, I know, violent arm-crossover and hideous heel-strike. But check out that view of the city!

As we head out to catch the 8 hour red-eye to Chicago, I will leave y'all with one last cruise photo. Last one, ever. I swear. Sara took this of my brother Tommy and cousin Ross late one night. No, they're not dating. I'm unsure of what exactly it is Tommy is trying to do to Ross, but that's none of my business really. If Sara had hair long enough to reach the front of the camera, I would call the white stuff hair. But it looks freakishly like hands holding Tommy up. And there's no way it could have been hair.

Shut up, brain.

Another cruise photo rolls in.. sometime I abuse my little sister Celia. 

For those that requested a saddle report: the Selle SMP is going back to where it came from. Bike shop, Satan's workshop, I don't really care as long as it's not within ten feet of my you-know-what. Next up: the Terry polka-dotted one Katherine uses. We have the same lululemon yoga pant addiction, matching swimsuits, and we kind of look alike.. it's a stretch, but I'm hoping what works for her will work for me?

I am over-thinking when I run. Hell, I've been over-thinking since I was eight. But lately, it's out of control when I run. Does my knee hurt? My achilles feels funny.. Is the road slanted? Bobloblaw..  So I cleared Shufflupigus and the 150 songs that were boring me into a coma and started from scratch. Whether you're looking for new music or just want to make fun of my dorky taste in music.. here's some of the return to running soundtrack:

E-pro – Beck

Viva la vida - Coldplay

Electric blue – Icehouse

Dare – Gorillaz

If she knew what she wants - Bangles (thanks, Erika)

Take you there – G Love

Shadow stabbing – Cake

Paradise city – GnR

Rapper’s delight – Sugar Hill Gang

Sit Down – james

Mood for a melody – Robert plant

Ode to a Butterfly – Nickel Creek

Cannonball – Breeders

Feel the Pain – Dino Jr.

Second Hand News – Fleetwood Mac

Move Along – AAR – (the song that makes me think of Kona the most.)

Kona L, CY, Bruce, thank you for the kind comments. It's great to hear that even people who aren't related to me enjoy reading as I blather on...

Chun's to Waimea

The North Shore Swim Series is just plain nice to be a part of. Well-run, fun swimmers, gorgeous water, and lots of sugary crap at the finish line. What more can you ask of a swim race? The race was 1.6 miles from Chun's (seen above) to Waimea.

I wore the splish Wonder Woman. So did Maggs. We told people we didn't plan it, but we were lying. We totally planned it. We hitch-hiked from Waimea to the start, and I said good-bye to the super-fast husband (still mustached, and I mentioned the drag.. hydrodynamics and all that, but no dice.) I lined up outside the surf with Maggs and Stefan. Stefan is our Tuesday morning swim coach and I actually counted about 100 strokes before I lost his draft.. which is amazing. He's trying out this new slow-start thing - I liked it. Chun's Reef is where I learned to surf. It's shallow, has a tiny break in the summer, and the reef is beautiful. I didn't bother siting, just followed all the swimmer people up ahead. One led me onto a reef just as the waves sucked out and I was beached like a whale. Bad driver. I flopped around a little for the lifeguard's benefit, and then I got on my feet and dove back in. There was a pretty solid current running against us, and when I swam alone I really felt the difference and hopped back into a pack. I swam a moderate, steady pace, because I knew I was likely to run out of fitness before I saw Waimea, having only swam once this last month. And I did. In the last 400 or so meters I got passed by quite a few people. I picked it up at the end and raced two 12 year old boys across the line. Those age groupers are brutal in the water. I tried to trip them, but I was too dizzy. Next time, kids. I finished in 45:00.0.. that might be my best race time ever. Not the fastest, but definitely the roundest. It was good enough for the age group win, which something I have never before done in a swim race this size - I was racer number 421. So as an added bonus, I got a pretty tile. 

And the bigger bonus today was a little redemption on the bike. Katherine rode up to Waimea and was kind enough to wait for me so we could head back together. I started off feeling a little tired and we rode hard into the lame-ass headwind. 57 miles later I arrived home not the least bit bonky. No mailman-induced mortification as a walked up my hill for me today, because there was no walking.

Whoa, Nelly.

A bonk isn't usually worth writing about. It happens sometimes. Usually when I underestimate how long I'll be out, or how hard I'll be working. Strongman Japan last spring was my first bonk. For some blonde reason I packed enough food for 200 cal/hr on the bike. I have a bad habit of running marathons or doing halves on one gel, so I figured I'd make it. Ha! I was s-c-r-e-w-e-d. I ran out of gas 80 miles in. Everything was flashing. I fell off of my bike in T2 and couldn't stand up. Yes, I thought of the old lady with the button who had fallen and couldn't get up. I wobbled into my shoes and asked the international RD to find me as much food as possible. He handed me a paper plate full of stuff I had never seen before, piled as high as Ramsey's plate of eggs benny at Sunday Brunch. I shoveled it all in, recovered.. and vowed to learn how to say the word hospital in Japanese before racing there again.

Today's bonk, however, was new territory. I rode the trainer last night, showered and put my still jet-lagged self in bed without eating. In the hustle to pick up the sitter and get out the door, I skipped breakfast (but not coffee, of course.) I forget breakfast 75% of the time anyway, so I didn't worry about it. My bike was loaded up with Infinit, and I took in 300 cals in the first hour of long Z3 intervals. And promptly fell apart. In Waimanalo, with the climb up Makapuu, Heartbreak, and the evil road I live on still looming. I almost tipped over on Makapuu. When I reached my road, I got off and walked. Rudy the mailman saw me. I could see my house.. so near.. and thought about calling the sitter to come get me. Who cares if she's 15, she can probably operate a car for 200 yards to come save me! The saddest part? It was a 40 mile ride. And I ate! There was a 300 lb. woman walking along my street smoking who could have kicked my ass today.

The upside of the bonk was the mixing bowl full of frosted miniwheats and soy milk that was practically required the instant I walked in the door.. man, I missed sugar.

Saturday is race three of the North Shore Swim Series, Chun's to Waimea. A two-mile open water race, followed by a 50 mile ride home. I'll be the girl on the orange pack-mule along Kam Hwy.. if you see me lying down on the shoulder in Kahaluu, please return me to evil hill road in Hawaii Kai. I have some serious training to do.

12 things to do in 12 weeks.

1. Go from walking during a 4 mi run to running 26.2 in less than 3:18.

2. Go from whining I'm tiii-red at mi 28 of a ride (today) to whining I'm tiii-red at mile 108.

3. Get out of the kiddy pool and into the one with lanes.

4. Get a ticket to Kona. And a room. And maybe a car.

5. Find someone to give me a ride to Victoria for camp in Sept. Anyone have a lear? 

6. Stop calling my sons by my brothers' names.

7. Convince husband to shave off Turkish mustache. We're not in Turkey anymore, honey.

8. Design the perfect Splish for Kona. Must be orange and Timexy, and have a peace sign. 

9. Convince Coach/husband/boss to let me go to Nationals in Oregon.

10. Give up sugar for the 143rd time.

11. Keep knee healthy.

12. Convince Sky to start wearing undies.

I don't know that I've left enough time for all that Kaizen stuff.

Re-entry.

Hello, reality.

I was heckled for only posting embarrassing photos of my family, and none of myself. So here ya go - apparently I'm confounded by my brother Tom's rocking dance moves.

I puked my guts out most of the 11+ hour flight from Frankfurt to San Fran and let me tell you, that was a party. The flight attendants let me sleep on the floor in the back, which was a bonus. Also, we flew over Greenland.

The coolest cruise photo is yet to arrive from my cousin Sara, but for the time being I like this one of my Mom and I. We are twins. Well, I'm about a foot taller.. maybe it's safer to say we often show up in the same place with the same stuff. Here we are in Corfu:

Now it's time for reality. In two weeks, I will start working full-time. In two days, or whenever I stop puking, Kona training really begins. I mean it this time. I have to say I'm more excited about the latter. The hiatus has been too long! After years of part-time employment, the husband is going to law school and I am going to be bringing home the bacon. That hiatus has not been long enough! I know, Poor Princess.. but I would be lying if I said I was looking forward to giving up my little Ironman hobby in favor of full-time environmental scientist, full-time mom, and full-time housekeeper. Who knows, I may find a way to keep it all up, but only if I can do so without cutting into what will now be limited kid-time. I can sleep when I'm dead.

Since arriving home, I have thrown up everything I have put in (even m&ms), realized I have no sitter for the next two weeks so all training must be done in the dark, have noticed an extra post-cruise layer around my middle portion (it could probably be melted down into one hell of a margarita), and have been inundated with work. Vacation is over. Life is on.. in spite of it all, it's great to be home!

Triathlon Training - cruise style.

Hawaii got uglier the minute the sun rose over Santorini. I was running the 1/4 mi track on the deck (20 laps is my max) when I first saw it. Photos don’t do it justice. R & I rented a scooter and covered most of the island. He drove, because the last time I tried I was 14 and I crashed it into the lone palm tree in the giant empty field. We had Frappe in Oia while oohing and ahhing over each little church and villa, then gyros on Kamari beach on the south east side of the island, where I almost went swimming. The water is cornflower blue.

 I’m not one to post my weekly workouts on the blog, but I thought I would try to inspire my fellow Kona-bound readers with my intense schedule. Please don’t be intimidated by all the hours I put in, what’s right for one athlete is not always right for everyone.

 I walked up this hill once.

Dodging donkeys made the hill walk more interesting than most hills I’ve done. Does going up in the morning and back down in the afternoon a repeat make?

Here I wore my triathlon team visor while holding my helmet in Oia. Granted the scooter helmet isn’t very aero, but I felt almost like I was going to ride a bike.

While in Corfu, Greece, I considered swimming:

Got close here, note the goggles near my right hand.. then fell asleep.

Practiced some heat acclimation (100 degrees!), refueling and recovering in Kusadasi & Ephesus, Turkey:

Tomorrow we are cruising.  I am considering an 11 am spin class, depending upon how late the evening goes. Thirty five minutes of german techno has got to count for something..

Just cruisin.

Dad, brother, husband.

You know how people send you links to their vacation photos and there are something like a 1261 photos with no captions of things and places you don’t recognize and you’re bored by number 36 and whip back an email Wow! Looks like a fun trip. 

Well, the Hawaii/Georgia/Cali/Illinois Shaplands, as in my immediate family, have decreed that there will be no boring photos. Which means that scenery photos must include something embarrassing or ridiculous.

Split, Croatia, was all stone buildings, palace ruins, red roofs, beaches and the prettiest farmers market ever. We hiked up to a mountain to look down on the city (that counts as an hour run, right Coach?)  We swam at the local beach (there’s my open water swim, Coach!) We must have walked 10 miles and I did more math than I have since high school trying to convert Kuna to Euro to the lame dollar.

We met an old Croatian man with no teeth in the Palace who told us he would show us something no one has seen. I was sure he was going to take us around the corner and drop trou. He was rather drunk, led us around in circles and then sat down to pass out on the marble sidewalk.

Now we are cruising. The Florida Shaplands, some of my favorite people on Earth, who actually make me consider racing Clearwater again, finally arrived after 36 hours of delays & travel hell. They made the boat in Split by 5 minutes. No luggage, but who cares if you wearing head to toe gift-shop fashion when you’re at the pool bar? Lots of sitting by the pool & karaoke (spectating, I know my weaknesses) before we arrive in Santorini tomorrow.

FL cousins with me.. at one of the many bars.

Venizia!

Venizia! I forgot to change the time on my watch.. but kept being right about the time. Turns out I really am half way around the world, twelve hours ahead.

The flying was uneventful, and for the 9.5 hour flight from Atlanta to Venice I had my own row to sleep in. I flew with the hub and my youngest two siblings, Celia and Tommy. We were delayed in Atlanta, along with everyone and their mother, which left us with only 3 hours in Venice. We hopped on the public boat for a ride to San Marco Piazza, which ended up being a great tour of the canals.

We encountered some horribly rude American tourists screaming at the boat captain for not being able to drop them off at the Pier. They were so loud and mean that they were kicked off the boat at the next stop and they had the nerve to yell at the captain for not just telling them where to go, damnit. Even though the man only spoke Italian! We proceeded to talk about how much we missed Canada, eh? and how great Molson is, eh? for the rest of the ride.  Got out and checked out the San Marco Piazza, acting like american jackasses (polite ones) here and there for photos, then wandered our way back to the port through the gorgeous maze that is Venice.

Ramsey, Celia & Tommy.

On to the boat! My mom insisted we close the curtains because the hotel is moving, people, and she might puke. We ate too much, drank even more, and watched a 9pm sunset (so late!) from the pool deck. Living in Hawaii really isolates us from the family, most of whom are in Illinois and Florida. All the kid cousins have grown up! And my brother Peter, whom I had not seen in over 2 years while he did a second Peace Corps stint in Georgia, hasn’t changed a bit.

The Mom & 4/5 of her kids. Patrick couldn’t come. We’re going to take a family photo with Ramsey standing in for Patrick and scowling so we feel like he was here. It will be my parent’s holiday card photo. We didn't really make fam reunion shirts.. but Tom found two Gomez Family Reunion shirts at the Goodwill, which the boys refuse to take off.

Croatia next.. there is nothing prettier than an old city, we're pulling in and it's all stone buildings with red tile roofs and trees and cliffs. We're going to find a place for a long swim in the Adriatic, and then walk around till we drop.. 

No more Mrs. Invincible.

My answer used to be Sure, whatever. Want to try these new running shoes? Heck yea. I'm going to raise your seat a few centimeters. Sounds good. Keep me company on my 20 miler? Fun! I ran in whatever shoes were prettiest, I played with my bike position whenever I wanted to try something new. When coaching a marathon clinic last fall I accidentally ran 30 miles one Wednesday. Whatever. I like to think that I'm agreeable.

If nothing else, six months of injury has taught me much. Gone are the days of running in shoes with 1200 miles on them because they're lucky. And orange. Part of being an athlete is taking good care of oneself. 

Today I finally did the big bike fit. About a thousand or so miles after Clem arrived on my doorstep. I have cheapness issues and five-hour bike fits don't come cheap. I am calling it an investment in my health. I went to Mike McMahon, who fit Katherine and Amy during Kona training last year. He's a PhD in physiology, he coached his wife to Olympic gold in 2000, and has had IT band syndrome. He has many more credentials, but those were enough for me. I now have a more open hip angle, a seat that's 2cm higher yet still only middle of the range for knee angle, my knees are traveling less (whatever that means) and am generating power more efficiently. The Dr. at work:

Added bonus: I think we found a saddle that won't make me cry. I've tried so many: Terry Butterfly, Adamo, Blackwell Flow, Glamour Assache, Profile Murderer, Fizik Arione.. all have led to nancy-girl whimpering three hours into a ride. Unfortunately the new Selle SMP Pro is purplish-blue in color, kind of like a bad bruise. It's reminds me a bit of that mini-Eiffel Tower Meg Ryan taunted Kevin Kline with in French Kiss. It looks a little sad.

I will try out the new position in the morning, in lieu of a planned run, because my legs are telling me they aren't quite recovered from the last run. And because on my fridge it says: Discipline is the bridge between goals and accomplishments. It's no coincidence I hang this on the peanut m&m home. It applies to taking care of myself as well.. as tempting as it is to get in one more run before I jump on the plane tonight, I will wait for Venice. I have running shoes, shorts and a jogbra in my carryon, ready to run.

Generosity and the Mediterranean Sea.

Santorini, Greece

By the end of the week I will be here, half-way around the globe from where I now sit. I will spend 30 hours doing my least favorite thing - flying - to get here. Back to back red eyes to Venice, where we board the big floaty hotel to cruise the Mediterranean. And sleep off the zanax- ambien- vodka haze. Me + giant metal deathbox with wings = drugs. 

My grandfather decided a family reunion was in order. He suggested Michigan. Someone who shall remain nameless said she would rather stick pins in her eyes. (Not me) So my grandfather decided we would be going on a nine-day cruise in the Mediterranean from Venice, Italy, all expenses covered. By him. He has 6 children and 21 grandchildren. A few of us older ones are married now, so there are those spouses too. He's flying us all to Venice and away we go! Some of the stops:

Split, Croatia

Crete

Ephesus, Turkey

The kicker: No kids allowed. Heaven, you might think.. but no. Leaving them here and knowing that I am 2+ days of travel away from my kidlets totally freaks me out (to quote Sky). I have traveled before, but always leaving them with my husband, and never this far. They are in good hands, Grandma Julie came in from California to hold down the fort. Literally, as fort-building is big around here these days. I have backed out of the trip multiple times, even going so far as to call in my cancellation with the airlines. I have never been to Europe. I do scary things sometimes.. I ride on crazy roads and swim near sharks but leaving my kids via the metal deathbox is a fear not easily overcome. But I can't pass this up. On Wednesday I am going to sack up and get on a plane.

I'm not bringing my bike. I don't think they would like me zooming around the run deck dodging pea-skins. I will be keeping the run alive though. I hit eight painless miles today. I couldn't have run fast if men were chasing me with guns, but it was running. Coach says that the water is so beautiful in Santorini that I will want to go for a nice long swim. Not bloody likely, dude.

Celebrate every victory, no matter how small

No, I didn't win anything. One has to show up to win. But Coach Paul is big on celebrating every victory, PR, or well, just about anything good. The guy must drink a lot.

 

Great race, let me buy you a beer! 

Congrats on the new house, let's go out! 

My big toenail finally fell off, wanna go get shots?

At first I thought it was a little hokey. And then it caught on. We should find joy in each improvement.. those little steps (remember kaizen?) So what are we celebrating today, blogland? A six mile run. I know, 45 minutes of running, whoop-de-freakin-do. There have been times in my life that I didn't feel like 45 minutes was worth putting my shoes on for. But the return to my lonely ipod, my lonely saucony tangents, and my old six mile loop, with no knee pain and a new pair of T9 run shorts to run the farthest I have since that April day in Tempe.. well, that is worth celebrating.

To me, anyway. My husband thinks I'm a jackass for being as excited as I am and says he thinks there will be fireworks at Ala Moana tonight in my honor. I am pretty sure that was sarcasm. But we're off to watch the fireworks anyway.

Nine Years.

Nine years is 3,283 days. It is also the average life-span of a microwave oven or a well cared for guinea pig. Not that I have either. In fact, I don't think I've had a microwave in nine years (they're scary.) Nine years is how much longer righties live than lefties.* Ramsey and I have been married for nine years today. I was 22 at our wedding. Fresh out of college, living on coffee and cowboy killers. Until whoops! parasite. Mostly it is not recommended that one smoke for two, so I took up food. We tell Henry he was the Best. Surprise. Ever. Unless he is antagonizing his siblings, then we tell him he was the Stinkiest. Surprise. Ever. Then he gets mad at me and tells me he is going to go back to where he came from. Whoa. No thanks. If the child had any idea where he came from, I guarantee he would never say that again. 

I would share a wedding photo, but I have none. I don't know where they went, we moved too too too many times (nine?) in our first few years. I would say a bunch of cheesy crap about how great it has been, but I'm not really a cheesy crap kind of girl. I would share some marriage wisdom, but really, after nine years, I still don't know diddleysquat. So instead I'll just show you my newlywed newlydad husband with his new namesake. 

Happy ninth, Ramsasaurus Ross. I am a lucky duck. We plan to mark the occasion by bribing my sweet, beautiful, sister Celia into baby sitting, stealing me a new IT band at the Bodies Exhibit, and then gettin' us some sushi.

PS. Happy birthday, Mom! See you in a week.

* Note to self: force Sky to use her right hand starting today.

Ground Zero.

It's official. I can run again! Today was a 90 min ride /30 min run brick, complete with zero IT band pain. Just call me Cagney, or Lacey, hell, call me Ursula for all I care --I figured it out and it was the swimming. After another few days off the chlorine, my less green hair and I will ease back in to the pool and maybe work back up to three days a week. I am not a six swims a week kind of girl. Lesson learned.

I took this picture of me on my run today:

Unfortunately it seems that residual fitness can only take a girl so far. Especially a girl who smartly decided to time a training hiatus to match up with a chocolate bender. I ran 4+ miles at tempo pace - which is funny, really, because my heart rate was 180+ (5k pace!) while my legs were at marathon pace. There was nothing tempo about it. I finished looking like someone who fell asleep on the beach her first day in wah-kee-keee.. beet red. I think the last time I was this out of shape Henry was a newborn and I was about to outweigh the hub.

So ummm, I have a nice low starting point.. I'm just happy to be started.