A Tale of Two Tri's: River Rock Youth Tri and RUSH 2011

Triathlon #1: River Rock Youth Triathlon

While Jeff took Samuel and the other scouts on an overnighter in the Tetons last week, I took the other kids to a triathlon. The River Rock Youth Triathlon is now a family tradition (does two years in a row qualify for being a "tradition"? Sure!). Poor Charlotte still has one more year until she is old enough (she's only four now), but that gives her a whole year to train! (Can you imagine a four year old "training"? I was just kidding on that).

Oliver, like last year, zipped across the water with no problem, shed his wetsuit, hopped on his bike for a quick ride, then ran through the course without batting an eye. He's a natural athlete, although he doesn't really care if he finishes fast or not. He did get a little winded on the run, but just for a moment. And by the time he crossed the finish he was hot, sweaty, and oh-so-thirsty. He did great. But the thing that made me proudest was still yet to come, when he went to the rescue of his little sister.

Little sister, Eleanor (age 6), has come a long way. Last year the water was freezing and she still had a huge water phobia, so she skipped the swim and just did the bike (on training wheels) and the run. What a difference a year makes! This year she swam (warmer water and no screaming in fear) and biked (sans training wheels! Woo-hoo!), and (sort of) ran! I'll tell you about it.

Eleanor the Naturalist, Carole the Great, and Oliver the Rescuer: I was worried how she'd respond to open water, so the night before I swam with her in the pond. Race day morning I put her floating swimsuit on her (what are those called? You know, the kind of suit that has foam floats sewn into the body?) and sent her to walk around the pond to the 5-7 year-old race start. That, in itself, was an act of faith because - knowing Eleanor - I wasn't sure she'd actually make it to the starting gate or if she'd get distracted by all the bugs in the grass along the way. Luckily she made it in time.

But then while Eleanor waited for her wave to start, she (while looking for bugs) found a snail shell at the water's edge. Unwilling to abandon her treasure for a mere race, she clung to the shell as she entered the water. Thankfully my friend and neighbor, Carole, was in the water, lifeguarding. Eleanor latched onto Carole, asking Carole to hold her snail shell, and asked if she'd help her across. Carole said she'd be right next to Eleanor, and she just needed to tell her when she wanted help. Apparently as soon as Eleanor's feet couldn't touch anymore (which was like two seconds), she cried out, "Help!". So sweet Carole swam next to Eleanor across the pond, holding Eleanor's shell in one hand while her other hand was under Eleanor's tummy (Ellie could float just fine, she simply needed the "Dumbo's Feather" assurance that someone was there). I watched Eleanor, who was oblivious to anything that had to do with "racing", chatting with Carole (who was grinning) all the way across the swim. When Eleanor got to the other side, she ran out of the water, stopped, turned around and ran back to Carole, who returned the shell while laughing kindly at Eleanor's priorities. I managed to convince Ellie to hand over the shell to me so she could pull off the floaty suit (whatever it's called) and put on shorts and a t-shirt over her regular swimming suit. With shoes and socks and bike helmet on, she was ready to ride.

Eleanor has balked at riding without training wheels for some time. Just within the last month or two she finally agreed to take them off, but hasn't had much practice. So I wondered how she'd do - if she'd crash or give up or whatever - and she surprised me (oh, me of little faith) by doing great.

But then came the run. Eleanor is a great runner. I had no worries about that, until I saw her on the opposite side of the pond, dragging her feet and staring down into the grass. She couldn't have moved any slower without actually coming to a complete stop. Charlotte, by this time, had had it and was cranky. I couldn't drag her around the pond along with the wetsuit and floaty-suit (I'm just going to call it that) and bike helmets (I was trying to put things away). So I watched, feeling rather helpless, as my daughter inched her way along the course, unaware and uncaring at all the kids passing her.

Then I realized Oliver was missing. He'd already finished and had been watching with me, and then he just wasn't there. I looked around for him, then back at Eleanor. Oliver had appeared by his little sister's side (did he apparate?), walking by her side as she told him about her side-ache and as she looked for bugs. Somehow he re-instilled the idea that this was a race and she really ought to run... He tells me he did it by spraying her with his water bottle and she ran away. Whatever. It worked. She was still going slowly, though, but as soon as she was in hearing range I yelled out, "RUN!". She finished, running strong, but indifferent to how she finished, unhappy with the side-ache and wanting to go back to look for grasshoppers.

She did great. She's never been competitive, though, so I'm not sure I see a future for her in races. Oliver was the lifesaver that day. Sometimes we all need someone to squirt a water bottle in our face, I guess.

One of the post-race festivities was a dance competition. I saw a new side of my often-reserved Oliver. He boogied with the best of them, and won! It was a good day. Hopefully next year Sam will be there so all four of our kids will race together. And maybe I can convince Eleanor that she can look for bugs AFTER the race. If I'm lucky.

Triathlon #2 RUSH Triathlon (Sprint Distance)

I've been in a training slump off and on all summer. My goal over the last few years - the goal that kept me running - was to qualify for the Boston Marathon. I qualified last September and promptly lost all desire to race. I still run because I just like running, but I'm not as motivated. And sometimes I get a little too excited, go a little too far or too fast, and suffer a mild case of burnout. Last week that mild case turned a little more severe than usual, and I was not happy. I knew I had a triathlon coming up and I had absolutely no desire to do it or train for it. I lost my appetite (the slump), lost a few pounds (bad timing - I need the energy reserves for racing!), and lost motivation (nothing like being apathetic to ruin a race). With four days until race day, I was seriously considering withdrawing.

Then my friend Cris came to my rescue. She dropped off a frosted, candy- and caramel-topped chocolate cupcake from the local cupcake shop to cheer me up. I thought about divvying it up between my kids and just taking a nibble, and I tried saving half of it for Jeff, but I ended up eating the whole entire thing all by myself. All of it. In less than an hour. During that hour, Jeff stopped in for a moment from work and I told him I'd saved half for him. He asked why I got the cupcake, and I told him Cris brought it because I'd been kind of down. "You have?" he asked, bewildered at the news. Yup. I have. Jeff isn't around very much so he wasn't aware that anything was amiss. (And I'm not going to text him, "Hey, I'm in a slump, bring me a cupcake"...but maybe I should.) Jeff told me to eat the whole thing - which is what I secretly was hoping he'd say.

So I did. Right then and there I polished it off.

And it was just what I needed.

I think it was the combination of friendship (thank you, Cris!), calories (I lose my appetite when I'm stressed or down), and love (it really did take a lot of love from Jeff to surrender that second half to me) - oh, and chocolate (the great cure-all) - that made the difference.

Over the next couple of days I took myself out on a bike ride, joined my friend Janeese for a great swim (she was letting me beat her, and I told her a few pointers Carole had given me - and then on race day Janeese finished the swim 2 minutes faster than me. I hope the pointers were what made the difference because it'd be fun to take credit for her fast swim :) Naw, she's just a great over-all athlete), and then I took my kids out on to the running trail so I could practice on it while they (read: Eleanor) looked for bugs.

I knew I wasn't as fit and fast as I could've been, but by Friday night I'd come to terms with it and realized that this wasn't a race for me to win. It was - as I talked with Carole, Janeese, and Cris - simply a race for fun. If it isn't fun, then what's the point? (Okay, sometimes a race has a point other than fun - like just to see how well you can do - but I wasn't prepared for that, so I switched gears and goals from "Fast" to "Fun").

And I had fun. It really was a great race. I made sure I was fueled properly (a green smoothie made of spinach, berries, soy milk, Greek Yogurt, Agave nectar, Protein powder) for my 5am breakfast, Hammer Race Caps Supreme supplements, Sports Legs, Electrolytes on board, and by 7 am had consumed nearly an entire Zipvit gel (our new favorite energy gel - it's smooth and gentle on the innards). I had everything set out to make this a successful race. I had my tri suit on under my wetsuit, ear plugs (the cold water gives me vertigo otherwise), anti-fog solution on my goggles, my swim cap, cheap flip-flops to get me to the start through the weeds, and ibuprofen in me. At my first transition, I had my sunglasses waiting in my helmet, my water bottle and a second bottle with Hammer gel and Fizz (mixed with water), my arm warmers if needed, and my race belt. I had a towel to stand on and an extra towel just in case. At my second transition I slung a towel over my spot, with my running shoes, running cap and a Hammer flask underneath (I always get dried out in the middle of the dirt trail on the run). I was so ready. (As an aside, I had consumed enough calories and taken enough energy supplements to see me through the entire day yesterday and most of today without needing much more to eat. Maybe I'll go a little easier next time - but at least I had plenty of energy for the race and for the entire day!)

The Olympic distance racers started an hour before us Sprint distance racers. So I got to watch with my friend Natalie as some of our friends started the Olympic swim. Natalie is a Boston Marathoner runner/qualifier several times over and is the nicest person you could ever know. These triathletes are such good, real, amazing, and kind people! Our friend Lana was in the Olympic distance race - she's actually come to my house to give me swimming lessons - and she is probably the strongest swimmer I've ever met. She's amazing and very very very patient with me and with my over-adoring Eleanor (Ellie loves her). We also cheered on our friend Mike (my husband bikes with Mike sometimes) who ultimately won the Olympic distance flat-out with minutes to spare. (He's on his way to the World Championship Half-Ironman competition this fall). I stood with Mike's son Nathan (he's 12) who was waiting to start the Sprint race, too. Nathan and my Samuel are friends and run on the cross-country team together, which is not a good thing because now Samuel thinks he'd like to try the RUSH also and his mom (me) is not too keen on that... It's hard to let my kids grow up!

Fifteen minutes before the race began, I got in the water. After opening the neck of my wetsuit so water could rush in, I walked back on the shore to let the water flow out of the arms and legs. This lets the wetsuit settle and fit itself to you. I had to do it a couple of times before I felt it was all set. Then back in the water for a ten minute swim to get used to the cold, get my breathing rhythm, and convince my brain that although I felt like I was being constricted, my lungs were still able to breathe (being out of breath while open-water swimming in a tight wetsuit can cause anxiety attacks if you're not prepared!).

I positioned myself off to the side next to Carole, away from the pod of swimmers, to avoid being kicked in the face, pummeled, and swum over (this has happened to me in the past and it isn't fun). I saw Janeese near the front of the pack, which is where she stayed the whole race. She did great. Finally 8:05 a.m. came (the men started at 8:00) and the race began.

I reminded myself as I started the swim that I was doing this for fun. So I settled into my rhythm and thought about my form as I swam around the edge of the lake. It's supposed to be a half-mile swim, but when I mapped it out it was actually a little more (like .65). I remembered to sight every few strokes - which is kind of hard when you're swimming into the morning sun - and was careful to stay close to the buoys.

The thing I like about a good swim is finding the "flow". You don't chat with fellow swimmers, you don't even really watch them - you can be in a lake full of people but when you're swimming you're in your own little world. Isolated from the feeling of competition (hard to feel like overtaking someone when you're not aware they're even there), and covered by a clear blue sky and surrounded by a tree-lined shore with rippling water in between, you can find yourself removed from the cares of the world, even in a race. And then when you let yourself glide through the water with the movement of your body propelling you through, you get a glimpse of what if must feel like to fly, or to swim like a fish. It truly is both invigorating and relaxing at the same time. Like last year, I wanted the swim to last longer. I was having fun.

I ran out of the water, got my wetsuit pulled off, and ran to my bike, waving to Carole who had been out of the water a full minute before me and was already leaving the transition. She is such a fast swimmer (and you should know she has 11 kids and is 12 years older than me and is my hero). I wish I knew my transition times, but the race company didn't post them. I felt calm and quick, though, so I think I did okay as I pulled on socks and bike shoes, put on my cool sunglasses (see my previous post for more on my cool sunglasses), snapped on my helmet and ran out of the transition to the pavement where I could mount the bike. I was warmed up enough from the swim that I didn't need to wear arm warmers.

The bike course isn't easy, and I had to gear down several times to make it up the long, steep hills. I started passing people on the hills, but by the time I got to the flat on top, I was pretty much in a dead space. It was an odd feeling to know I was in a race but to hardly see anyone around. I couldn't gauge how fast I was going compared to other people, but that was good. It took away the temptation to race people and let me focus on just racing myself. I watched my bike computer and adjusted my speeds based on what I knew I could comfortably do. Speeds ranged from 9mph (on the uphills) to 30 mph (on the downhills) and I averaged around 17mph. I passed a volunteer who was waving people on and he shouted out to me, "Cool glasses!" That was the first thing I told Oliver when I saw him at the end of the race (once again, you have to see my previous post to understand why that is significant. Oliver - your mom is not too old to have cool glasses! :) Really!).

At T2, I was most surprised that my legs switched from bike muscles to running muscles so quickly. I'd done some drills this summer to train my muscles to do that, since the last few triathlons I've been pretty uncomfortable for the first several minutes of the run. I ran my bike to the rack, switched to running shoes, took off my helmet and put on my hat, grabbed my flask and was off.

I wasn't running fast - I could probably use a lot more drills ("bricks") - but I wasn't miserable. It was just a few moments before my muscles really relaxed out of bike-mode and I was able to get into a comfy running pace. I still wasn't fast, but that was by choice. I knew what was coming and I wanted to be prepared. Just as I was leaving the run my friend Tony was finishing his run. Right behind him was my friend KJ. Those two took 2nd and 3rd overall for the Sprint race. Amazing.

I slowly started passing people on the run. Every time I passed a lady I thought, "Wow, you must be a great swimmer and cyclist - you passed me on the swim and/or on the bike." I'm so impressed with these athletes. Every one of them has their own battles and their own obstacles, and I know every one of them has put some serious effort into getting ready for the triathlon. How some people find the time or the motivation - or stay motivated - is beyond me. How they can not only start but also finish is always inspiring.

The Great Dirt Hill was looming before me. Looking up into it, I saw people staggering up in a semi-run, or walking, or just simply stopping. It is a challenge to run that hill. I've been on it enough to know I can run it fast and have absolutely nothing left in me, or I can take it slower and finish strong.

It was a smart move for me to take it slower at the beginning. The two tracks are deep and full of hot, soft, powdery dirt. It's like running in hot flour up a steep hill lined with thorny thistles that scrape your leg. With the sun beating down and reflecting off the dirt, it was a tough run. I knew the heat would be an issue since I always train in the early morning, which is why I made sure to have on sunglasses and my running cap. If the world looks a little darker and the brim blocks the sun, it somehow tricks my body into thinking it's not as hot as it really is.

As I neared the top of the hill, I knew what was left of it and of me, so I sped up, didn't stop at the top, turned down the paved road, and slowed again a bit - but didn't stop - until I caught my breath. Part-way down the road I was able to pick up the speed again and started passing more people. I always hate passing people because I know how disheartening it can be and I don't want them to be discouraged. I tried to cheer on people I passed (something like "we're almost done" - hopefully not too irritating, but still hoping to alleviate the sting).

Less than a half mile from the finish I saw my family waiting for me on the sidewalk. Talk about motivating! Seeing my husband and kids waiting, watching, and cheering for me was the sweetest feeling of the whole race - even better than the flow of the swim, the speed of the bike, and the satisfaction of the run. "Go, Mommy, go!" rang in my ears as I entered the final quarter mile of the race. The race ends at the Junior High track, with the last part actually run on the track. At the gate to the track I saw my mom and dad and brother Don also waiting for me, taking pictures (they weren't very flattering) and yelling for me. That was cool. A few friends lining the race course also cheered for me (thank you, guys!), which makes me want to go to every race and cheer on everybody there - it's just plain nice to have the support!

I ran directly behind a lady who I decided was my unsuspecting pacer. She was going at a good clip and I was pretty sure she wouldn't let me pass her (and I was pretty sure I wouldn't be able to, anyway). I figured if she heard me breathing down her neck (not literally) she wouldn't slow down, and that I would keep myself with her so I wouldn't slow down. Kind of a symbiotic relationship, I guess. I kept her going, she kept me going (I'm not really sure I kept her going, but it made me feel valuable to think so).

As fun as the whole thing was, it was a relief to round the final edge of the track and see the finish line not far ahead. At the last minute, a guy (I think he was actually Natalie's brother) sped past me, which was fine. I had passed him as we entered the track, but he'd been in front of me most of the race so he really deserved to be in front of me at the end.

So when I finished, I was happy. It was a fun swim, a fun bike, and a fun run, and I felt strong and elated instead of spent and discouraged. There was a brief moment when I felt a little deflated (when I saw my time compared to everyone else) and I knew I could have done it faster. But, I realized, if I'd pushed much harder I wouldn't have had as much fun. And, after all, that was my goal this time.

Janeese greeted me at the end - she's a madwoman! That girl has a special gene that switches on when she's racing (my friends Jennica and Cris both have that mutant gene, too. I want one.). She speeds through like it's nothing! Janeese came in second overall (the gal that finished first beat the old course record by a whopping 9 minutes, was wearing a Wisconsin state Swim Team jersey - and probably doesn't have four kids...). I can't really tell from the race results what my place was (it looks like one of the finishers was a male but is in the female category). I though I was 8th overall, but maybe I was 10th or 11th. I did get first place for my age group and my friend Natalie got 3rd in our age. She'd pretty much taken the entire summer off after her Boston Marathon this past April (and had finished that Marathon in a qualifying time for next year's Boston!), so she wasn't expecting much - but lo and behold she did great without even training! Some people are so gifted and, unlike me, can just get out and go like it's nothing. Not me, nope. I have to train my reluctant body to even get to the point of considering doing a race!

The nice thing about yesterday's race was that it was fun because I ran (and swam and biked) my own race at my own pace just for the sake of doing it. First place in my age was an unexpected bonus.

And at the awards, it was very cool to see Janeese, Jill and her parents (her dad is a crazy-fast cyclist), my old teacher and friend Scott, Natalie, Lana, Jennica and her brother, KJ, Tony, Carole and her son Steve (who, by the way, finished this as his first tri and finished first in his age and 8th overall! Some people...and some people's kids! So talented!), Mike, Nathan, and sons of our neighbors, and so many other people out racing together and having fun. Kind of like good ol' fashioned community field days or something. It was really gratifying (and not surprising) to see Mike win because Mike is the kind of person you just want to be the winner. He's humble and encouraging and happy doing the sport. As his wife Jeni says, he's an addict! If you're going to have an addiction, might as well make it a good one and then spread the bug (he's one of the two people I blame for getting Jeff back into cycling - and I love that he's doing it because it makes him (and thus me) happy).

Happy trails, everyone.

Oliver - you're out of the Will! (Just temporarily though)

(My friend Heather took this picture and the one at the end of this post)

There's nothing like conversations with your kids to get you laughing. This week I'm spotlighting Oliver.

I think it's great to be healthy - for my family to exercise and get good nutrition. I guess there's a limit on what my kids will tolerate.

"Ew, I HATE V-8, Mom!" said Oliver with a grimace.

"I understand," I replied, trying to be diplomatic and mature about the whole ordeal. "I didn't like V-8 either until I got older. Maybe you'll like it when you grow up."

Oliver looked up at me in disbelief and disgust, "Growing up means you start liking icky food? No thanks!"

Growing up means liking icky food... He's right, you know. I laughed about that for days.

The other interaction didn't really leave me laughing. And he was lucky I didn't tackle him for his cheekiness. But it was cute (sort of) so I'll share it anyway.

See, I bought myself some new sports glasses. (I actually bought a pair, returned it the next day, bought another pair, didn't like it either, and finally kept my third pair.

That's pretty much shows how indecisive I am.) These glasses are sweet, stylish, hip, whatever the current word is ("bad"? "sick"?). Whatever. They're great. I can use them while running and while cycling. Nice.

So I had my new sunglasses on (Oakley somethings), along with my running cap,

trying them on for the kids' approval.

They all gave me the thumbs up.

Except Oliver.

I couldn't figure it out - what more could I do to impress my 9 year-old boy? Sports glasses, running cap, the whole sha-bang. Where was I falling short?

I made the mistake of asking him. While there's something to be said for being honest, I still wish he was maybe a little dishonest just this once. He didn't really have to tell me the truth, did he?

Oh, do you want to know what he said in his disapproving way?

"Mom, you're just too old to look cool."

There you go. According to the Wisdom of Oliver, his old mom eats icky food and is way past her "cool" prime.

Good thing I love that boy.

Don's Talk

An earlier post mentions that my brother Don (who has Cerebral Palsy and is quadriplegic) gave his first talk in Church two weeks ago. Don's 41 years old. It's about time we got to learn from him!

He and my dad give a presentation each semester in one of the classes on campus at BYU-Idaho, so he's accustomed to an audience. I admit I was more nervous for him than he was. I kept giving him unsolicited (and conflicting) advice, like "Picture everyone wearing pink bunny suits" or "Just don't look at anyone" or "Just look at me and pretend we're having a conversation." He took it all in stride and let me be anxious for him (it was the least he could do for his over-protective sister).

But he didn't need my advice. He was perfect.

We, the audience, sat in silent attention, concentrating on listening to his voice as we read the words projected on the large drop-down screen behind him. Line by line, the words would appear so everyone could understand every word he said. More important than the words, however, was the hush that fell upon us as we felt the warmth of his spirit speaking to our own. Imagine my brother humbly reading the following words through the voice of a struggling body, but in a soul that stands tall, straight and strong:

Brothers and Sisters, it’s good to be here today. This is my first sacrament talk so I hope you’ll be patient with me as I talk about patience.

I think that all of us at times become impatient either with others, with ourselves, or with our own situation.

President Monson said, “Our problem is that we often expect instantaneous solutions… forgetting that frequently the heavenly virtue of patience is required.”

Does being patient mean that we just sit around and wait for something to happen?

President Uchtdorf said that patience is “the ability to put our desires on hold for a time.” But it is not “passive resignation, nor is it failing to act because of our fears.”

“Patience means to abide in faith, knowing that sometimes it is in the waiting rather than in the receiving that we grow most.”

In Hebrews we read, “Let us run with patience the race that is set before us, looking unto Jesus the author and finisher of our faith.” (Heb. 12: 1-2)

It seems like God has a personal education plan for each one of us, tailored to us individually and designed for our best good. But we don’t always recognize that, do we? Mother Theresa once said: “I know the Lord won’t give me more than I can handle. I just wish He didn’t trust me so much.”

I hope you’ll be patient when you’re talking with me. Some people with cerebral palsy have to take a little longer to say the words that we want to say. It’s not that we don’t understand you, it’s just that our words have to go a different route to be expressed than yours do.

Back to patience- Can you think of times when it was hard for you to wait patiently? We pray and pray for something we really feel we need, or want but it doesn’t happen. Perhaps later what we want will happen, or it may never happen. The Lord knows when, or if, we need what we want. We need to have patience and trust in the Lord that He loves us and wants only that which is the best for us. Elder Maxwell once wrote that too much opening of the oven door and the cake falls.May we all increase in patience and faith,

I pray in the name of Jesus Christ. Amen

Race Day - St. Anthony Pioneer Days Race

Here's a quick report on yesterday's Pioneer Days Race:

5:15 am - I woke up and got things ready.

5:30 am - I woke up the boys and got them ready.

6:00 am - I woke up...oh, wait, I was awake. But I sure wasn't feeling awake. Still sleepy, but functioning. The boys and I made the 15-20 minute drive to St. Anthony for the race check-in.

6:20-6:55 - Pre-race jitters. Talk about family bonding time!

6:55 - Sam and I left in a race official's car to drive to the 10K start. I did NOT like leaving Oliver behind all by himself. Luckily I knew a few of the other 5K racers and asked them to keep an eye on Oliver. That was tough, though. Jeff was home with the girls still because he was in charge of the Boy Scouts' Holiday Flag putting-up (what do you call that anyway? It was a holiday so the Scouts were putting up flags for the neighborhood).

7:10 - The 10K started (a little late, but okay). Sam let me run behind him for a few minutes, then I caught up to him and told him to slow down. I started in on my mothering-coaching lectures then zipped it. I realized he's a big boy, this was his race, and I'd best leave him be. He told me to go on ahead. I knew he'd run better on his own, so I picked up my pace to race-pace. I'd strapped a phone on his arm so he could call if he needed anything (oh, yeah, I'm a protective mom). I ran behind a college kid and used him as my pacer.

7:30 - The 5K started. I looked at my watch, knew Oliver was just beginning, and hoped he was doing okay. My unsuspecting college-kid pacer started slowing at around mile 4. I told him to keep going because I needed him to pace me. He made a valiant effort and kept our 7:40 pace until somewhere into mile 5, then he lost steam. I felt bad running past him, but I think he was okay with it. He just wanted to finish.

7:58 - I finished the 10K with an average of 7:46 minutes/mile. Since I've been recovering from injury over the last month and have only run once in over two weeks, I was okay with that time. Still, I kept thinking I could've run faster. I came in first in my age group and third overall. Since there were like less than 10 women, it wasn't that big of an accomplishment. Still, it was a pretty race.

My parents and Don (my brother) were there at the finish to cheer me in. It was great to have that support. Jeff was still stuck at home. I turned around to run back on the course and find Oliver. I found him just a little ways away from the finish, looking so good.

8:03 - Oliver finished. I ran a little bit with him, then he told me he was okay (I got the point - Let me run, Mom!). He sprinted SO fast at the finish. Awesome time, kiddo. I left him with my parents and brother, then turned back on the race course again to go find Samuel. I found him two blocks from the finish, running strong. I ran in with him a block, then he told me he was okay, too (once again, Let me run, Mom!). I short-cutted over to the finish to cheer him in. He also sprinted in the last bit.

8:19 - Sam finished his first official 10K. He's run that distance before (he's run a half-marathon before!) but this was the first race. He was great.

Mom, Dad and Don left once they saw we were all in. It was wonderful to have them there. Right after they left, Jeff and the girls showed up with donuts and milk. They made it in time for the awards.

Oliver got a finisher's medal (I think he was the second kid to finish the 5K, maybe first - we'll know next week when results are posted) and Sam got a placing medal (for first in his age group in the 10K. He was the only kid, and he passed some of the adult 10K runners), and then I got a medal for placing. I'm just happy that the boys did it and had fun. I'd be just as proud of them even if they'd come in last, or if they couldn't finish but had tried. The point is, I'm proud of them for doing their best. And I was happy that I was on my feet again after such a long time not running.

So it was a good race. My leg hurt, but it wasn't as bad as I'd expected. I'm in new shoes that are supposed to help me (apparently I over-pronate pretty badly, which I never knew). They should help me run without getting injured so often. I hope!

We went home not to rest, but to get on with life. The boys had lawns to mow, Oliver had soccer practice, the girls and I picked the first picking of raspberries, Jeff weeded and tilled the garden, and then it was lunch time. After all that, the kids and I rested with some afternoon reading and games, then outside play and yard work, while Jeff went on a bike ride. We finished the day with the kids getting to watch a show while Jeff and I went on a date.

What a great day.

Buck up, Steph!

Jeff's at cancer camp this week as the camp doc. He and the camp kids and other staff get to float down the Salmon River all week. I wonder what it's like right now for him with the sun just setting and the day cooling off. I wonder if their campfire is burning low and if he's strumming his guitar while the river's flow sings in accompaniment. I wonder if the mosquitoes are buzzing, if the food tastes marvelous (doesn't it always taste better outside?), if the canyon walls have darkened their day early. I wonder if the kids feel the wonder of life and living, the beauty of the world around them, and if their senses (like mine) are heightened in the wild. I imagine the day was spent with laughter as the river carried them downstream, and the night is spent with stories and song as their bodies sink into rest.

I miss my Jeffrey. Funny how my daily living is really not that different with him out of town since he's so seldom home anyway, but just knowing he's out of reach makes me want to find him. I hope he's happy and helping the camp kids make great memories.

Meanwhile, life goes on here. Swimming lessons, soccer practices, soccer games, piano lessons, Cub Scouts, 11-year-old Scouts, birthday party (Sam's turning 12!!!!!????), and a race to get ready for Saturday.

A race? Oh, yes, a race. Oliver is running the 5K, Sam's registered for the 10K (although he may change his mind and do the 5K instead), and I'm signed up for the 10K. Not a big deal - except that somebody (me) is injured (again) and can't run. I haven't run for a week. That might not seem like a big deal to others, but it is to me. My sweet running partner is a Physical Therapist and has been helping me. My rotten leg, however, has not been cooperating. I've been on my bike more in the past two weeks than I have in the past two years as I try to maintain my fitness without ruining my leg. I admit that I now really like cycling. My longest ride (it's nothing compared to my husband's rides) was a 30 miler this week - and if I had had time I would've kept going. I've also had some good swims (including an open-water swim in my new wetsuit, which I don't like - I prefer my old one) and also am getting strength training in, and yesterday went roller-blading around the park so I could keep up with the kids on their bikes.

Still, as much fun as that all is, I do miss running. A lot.

So there you go. I miss Jeff. I miss knowing he's near enough that I could call if I needed. I miss having him come home to help tuck the kids into bed. I miss hearing the garage door open when he turns into the driveway.

And to a lesser degree, I miss running. I miss feeling my legs move me up a hill and my stride change to meet my goals. I miss watching the sun rise over the farmer's fields as I run run run.

Guess who's feeling melancholy?

My brother Don gave the most amazing talk in church today. Don is quadriplegic. He was born with Cerebral Palsy and has never been able to walk, use his arms, or speak clearly. Nobody has ever invited him to speak in church before. But Brother Kelly broke the unspoken rule and asked him to do it. What a wonder it was.

"This is my first sacrament meeting talk ever," he began, "so I hope you'll be patient with me as I talk about patience." The congregation was hooked. You could have heard a pin drop during the next few minutes as Don's spirit spoke to ours, even when his voice was difficult to understand. He sat up front, off to the side, with his computer to read from and my dad holding the microphone for him. Fortunately, his words were projected onto the drop-down screen at the front of the church so we could read along, one line at a time (power point is awesome!) as he talked about learning patience, including how he has to be patient with his body's limitations.

Patience with a body that doesn't work and a mind that knows, and a life destined to be single until the next life...

I suppose I can be patient with my leg that hurts a little. I suppose I can be patient with missing a spouse that I at least have home sometimes. I have every reason to be grateful for what I have.

Oh, my, I have so much to learn.

Running Happy

For the past two years, my boys have raced in occasional 5Ks (that's 3.1 miles). Sam, who is the ripe old age of 11, told me yesterday he wants to race in the St. Anthony Pioneer Days 10K (and that's 6.2 miles) race.

Being the supportive Mom I am, I said no way. Nope. Uh-uh.

Okay, not unless you do some training first. So I suggested he go out on a little run, maybe get two or three miles in to start training. He begged that I let him run around town instead of just around the neighborhood. We looked at a map and set the parameters of where he could run, and I told him he had to be home in an hour (I'm all about letting the kids loose - as long as it's in an enclosed area and time limit :) Hyper-vigilant? Maybe. But I'd rather be too careful than have something bad happen.)

He was so excited to be independent. He used my armband to hold the phone and use the Nike+ app, and I sent a Hammer flask of water with him. He got his playlist going, ear buds in, water in hand, and set off on an adventure. After 45 minutes with him gone, I began to get a little anxious. At 55 minutes I was thinking of grabbing the keys and the other kids to go in search of Sam. But then he appeared, red faced and grinning with the Runner's High. He had just run 6.26 miles in 57 minutes. That's a 9 minute mile on his first run out.

Alright, I guess I can let him run that 10K race now.

We're both still floating on the high of his unexpected successful run yesterday. He's been adamant about signing up for football this fall and I've been trying to talk him out of it (his lean body just isn't built for it!). Now he's seriously considering cross-country instead. Hooray!

And while we're talking about running boys, I need to extol Oliver's (he's 9) running talent, too.

That boy can sprint. Holy cow, he's fast! On a short sprint, I can't keep up with Sam, and Sam can't keep up with Oliver. Right now Sam has speed and stamina, and Oliver has speed and speed. Me, I just have stamina. This is where life's not fair (after all, I'm the one doing all the training) but I could't be happier about it.

I'm tickled that my guys are faster than me and I can see my girls are well on their way to beating their

dear ol' mom, too. Yippee! (Honestly, though, if they don't want to be runners, that's fine. There are plenty of other things to do, too - not sure what, though).

Oliver told me yesterday that he thinks he might be more of a cyclist, like Dad. Bet that's just fine with Pops. :)

Runner Steph, Meet Cyclist Steph (she's a stranger 'round here)

Last Tuesday I met up with some friends to go for an early morning bike ride. I am a runner, not a cyclist, but every once in a while I try to get out on my bike. It kind of helps to have ridden a time or two each summer before my annual triathlon...

(A flat on a previous ride, but same friends I rode with on Tuesday)

I want to learn to like my bike, mostly because I feel obligated since I have it, but also because Jeff rides and I'd like to join him sometime when I feel comfortable on the bike. I keep thinking that I'll never learn to like riding unless I actually get out and do it. So I resolved to join the ladies on Tuesday and prove to myself that riding really wasn't as painful as I remembered.

It really was painful.

Worse than I remembered. I was out of breath before I made it to my neighbor's driveway. I was more out of breath as I tried to carry on a conversation and act as if nothing was wrong. I was miserable by the time we crested the hill. And finally at a whopping 2 miles out, I was done. Done. I couldn't believe I was saying it, but out came the words, "I have to stop. I can't do this." And completely out of character, I peeled off and headed the whole two miles back home like a dog with its tail between its legs.

I never quit. No matter how I'm feeling, if I start something I just don't quit. I spent the entire day Tuesday puzzling over my actions, wondering what brought on this odd behavior, and feeling like a complete and utter failure. I even cried more than once that day because I was so frustrated. I couldn't keep up. Sheesh, I could barely even start! I wondered if I should just give up on the bike. I could sell it and get some new running gear, couldn't I? I sobbed to Jeff, "How in the world can I ever learn to like cycling if I keep having bad experiences!?"

Jeff is very level-headed. He is as steady and logical and reasonable as they come. And kind, too. He just smiled at me and said, "You need to just go out on your own sometimes and have fun - don't worry about keeping up with anyone, just do your own thing."

I realized that a huge part of the problem was the stress and anxiety I get when riding (or sometimes even running) in groups - I worry that I won't keep up, that I'll hold people back, that I'll ruin their ride or run. At my two-mile turn back point on Tuesday I was struggling to keep up and terrified of the potential suffering in the upcoming hour. So I quit.

Jeff reminded me that I was sick and had been sleeping way more than usual as I fought off the cold and sore throat. And I remembered that I'd not eaten much for several days (sickness makes me lose my appetite), so there were definitely valid reasons for quitting, but if I had been running I don't think I'd have quit. Sure, I would have had a miserable run, but I wouldn't have stopped.

I know myself as a runner.

I don't know myself as a cyclist.

Runner Steph, meet Cyclist Steph. She's a stranger and you don't know what she's capable of. That makes me wary and a little unconfident. Okay, a lot unconfident.

(Me & my friend Heather, whose husband helped fit both my old bike (pictured) and my new bike to me.)

Being the compulsive type, I decided to take Jeff's advice and go out again the next day (you know what they say, just get back on the bike when you fall - or fail!). I went on a solo ride and spent some time getting to know Cyclist Steph. It wasn't the ideal morning for a ride with 20+ mph headwinds the first and last 6 miles and crosswinds on other parts of the ride, but I didn't have to worry about my speed, didn't worry I'd be slowing someone down, didn't need to save my breath for talking, and could focus on the ride.

I'm so glad I did it. Tuesday: 2 miles of fatigue and anxiety until I turned around. Wednesday: 20 miles of strength and relaxed riding. I wasn't speedy - the winds certainly had something to do with that. Overall I averaged 15mph, which included the snail-pace 7mph ride on the uphill (I can RUN up hills faster than that! Oh, this is pitiful!), but also included topping out at 38mph on the downhill. THAT was cool.

So cool that this morning (now Monday) I chose to ride my bike instead of running. I rode the same route, this time with very little wind, and finished the 20 miles six minutes faster. It was another solo ride - trying to get my conditioning up to where I can ride with friends again. (I did join a 20+mile ride with some friends a few weeks ago, in rain and wind - they let me draft. I told you I'm not very good at this, but I'm trying!)

So anyway, it's coming. Tomorrow I'm doing my favorites - running and swimming. I have a half-marathon race on Saturday so technically I'm tapering this week and won't be doing too many workouts the rest of the week. But I bet I'll be on my bike again soon.

My husband (I could also call him my therapist, couldn't I?) regularly rides twice, thrice, four times the distance I'm at (and in a LOT less time). He's definitely inspiring me. And encouraging me. I love that he expects me only to have fun and has no pre-conceived notion that my running fitness would translate to cycling prowess. I don't think I'll ever be great, or even good - just mediocre. After all, I'm first and foremost a runner. But I'm a runner that is learning to (almost) love cycling.

Post script: I now know that I won't be racing the half-marathon on Saturday. There will be other races, but there will only be this one time to attend Grandpa Rasmussen's funeral - a great, good man, one of the very best.