Ruminations

Friday, October 28, 2011

Making it through the month





I haven't posted in a while, so here's a quick summary:









Jeff and Steph:
For our anniversary, Jeff and I rode through Grand Teton National Park, making a nice 46 mile trip which included a not-nice piece of riding up a 14% grade mountain (no, not the Grand - it was Signal Mountain). Gorgeous ride and the best company.












I love that Jeff of mine.











The Family:

We attended a BYU football game as a family, which was super stressful and awful until the last two minutes when BYU turned things around and won at the last second (or two).











We went to a Straw Maze that featured a real live camel! In Idaho! Pretty cool. The girls and Jeff and I stuck together, while Sam and Oliver tried to conquer the maze on their own. We made it out, then waited for the boys. And waited. And waited. And finally Jeff went in to find them. The boys were still wandering around near the entrance when dad rescued them. It was pretty fun.













Samuel:
Sam finished up his first season of cross-country running. It was a fun experience and he hung in there. His race times got better and better. Mostly he enjoyed hanging out with his teammates.














Sam and Oliver started an athlete conditioning program at the high school. Pictured above is Sam on your right (it could just as well be Oliver, too!), pulling a parachute in sprints. I think I'll change his name to Flash. And Oliver can be Flame. Or maybe not.



Oliver:

Speaking of Oliver, Oliver had a birthday party. And another birthday party. And ANOTHER birthday party! Once on his birthday with just us, once on a Sunday evening with cousins, grandparents, aunts and uncles, and once after school with friends. I won't be doing that again! Still, it was fun and he's definitely worth it. Turning 10 years old is, after all, a bid deal.






This is Oliver with a giant New England "Whoopie Pie" that he requested. He's donning a policeman outfit he got for the first of his three 10-year-old birthdays.








I couldn't resist this picture of Oliver doing his homework with the help of "Witchy" - the library puppet that we've checked out twice now (Charlotte has claimed her as a best friend, but shared with Oliver).



















Eleanor (and Charlotte):
And we (Eleanor, actually) are now the proud owners of two Giant Madagascar Hissing Cockroaches. Ewwww. Eleanor is in heaven.
She was completely surprised when our neighbor showed up at my parents' house, bugs in tow. She's been begging for Giant Madagascar Hissing Cockroaches for months. Jeff said sure, she could have them. I kept quiet, hoping she'd forget. She never forgot. One Sunday at church she talked with our neighbors about her dream pets. The very next day...well, sometimes dreams come true, I guess!

Our neighbor's husband is a biologist at BYU-Idaho and had some connections to these "exotic" bugs. Ellie calls them Crunch and Minnie. The day after the two creatures moved in I called our neighbors in a sudden fit of panic. "They're not male and female, are they?" No, she reassured me, they're both boys. Even Minnie. Phew!

Charlotte (and Eleanor):
Charlotte loves Witchy, but also has a soft spot for the giant Dora doll. Here she is on her way home from preschool.


















While the boys were at a football game, we had "girls' day" which included playing with cousin MJ and Aunt Annmarie, a bike ride, feeding ducks, playing at the park, going out for ice cream, a visit to the library, a movie, and - the highlight for the girls - a visit to the Animal Shelter where the girls volunteered. They got to take a couple of (small!) dogs on walks and spend some time socializing kittens (read: playing!). It was sweet, although it also makes me sad... Those poor animals. Hopefully we helped them have a happy day.



Home:
And a new piano now sits where we'd planned it to be years ago when we designed the house. It's beautiful.






I spent a few days canning this month. And grumbling. And wondering why in the world do I give up my days for a few bottles of fruit. But, like last time, when it's all over I'm proud of the results. But, like last time, I don't know if I'll ever do it again. :)


That's all for now. How thankful I am for the ties that bind us. My family, you can see, is everything to me.

Saturday, September 17, 2011

It's in our Nature

Lots of Nature related things are going on around here, as usual. That, and some running and some good food, pretty much sums up the theme of this post (and many other posts). I like to post these rather mundane things sometimes to keep a journal of our lives and to keep my in-laws (who are in Kyiv, Ukraine for another year) and friends & family posted on our exciting lives (who doesn't think grasshoppers and huckleberries are exciting?). So I apologize for boring anybody, but c'est la vie.


The Love Bug

Eleanor's pet grasshopper lived with us for about 4 days before making his way to the Great Beyond. Grassy had some health problems when Eleanor rescued him from the sidewalk - he couldn't walk, hop, flit, or flutter about. Eleanor was a doting nurse to the poor guy (or girl?). She fed and watered him regularly, and discovered that Grassy really liked the rose petals from our flower bed. It was an incredible experience to see her usually holding him in one hand and feeding him with the other. Grassy ate voraciously, regardless of his position, whether lying on his back, lying in Ellie's hand, or stretched out on the walkway. When Eleanor placed drops of water in the flower petals, Grassy slurped up the water like a puppy. I never thought I'd get attached to a grasshopper, but Grassy won us all over. Cute little thing. He's on to greener pastures now, hopefully with his hoppers back in order.


The Great Outdoors

We took the kids on a hike around Horseshoe Lake last week, then made the extra little jaunt over to Cave Falls (Yellowstone). Last time we came to Cave Falls (4 years ago), there was a cave. It has now collapsed and the large cavern is just a pile of rocks. The Falls are still as lovely as ever.


Huckleberry ice cream

Oh, as an unexpected surprise while hiking around Horseshoe Lake, we came upon tons (I exaggerate) of wild huckleberries (are there such thing as cultivated huckleberries?). It's somewhat bewildering that it takes 2 hours to pick 2 cups of the little gems (okay, I'm exaggerating again - but it did take a long time). Turns out that two cups of the berries is just what you need to make about 1 1/2 quarts of delicious, fresh homemade huckleberry ice cream.


A Tale of A Tail
Oliver arranged a Lizard-catching Expedition last week. All I had to do was provide transportation, food, and moral support. Jeff and Sam were on another overnight campout, so the rest of us, along with Oliver's friend Ethan, climbed the "R" Mountain in the heat of the afternoon. It's a short but steep hike, and everyone did great. Except for the poor lizards we caught. I still feel awful about "Rocky" who lost his tail, then died hours later. :(
Kids and lizards. Charlotte is the only one with my kind of sense here - she's holding a paper flower instead of the slippery creatures the others are handling.

Since we couldn't bring home a lizard, (Mom said!), Eleanor wanted to bring home a lizard's tail. She wasn't happy when I said no. No. No. No. Absolutely not. We compromised by taking a picture of the nasty thing. Still, she wasn't happy to leave it behind...(no pun intended!).




Which Witch?

Charlotte and I have been enjoying each other's company while everyone else is in school, but I think she gets tired of me sometimes. We checked out this Witch Puppet from the library, and the Witch quickly replaced me as her buddy. Hmm.
Charlotte has been carrying her new little friend around with her ever since, even dressing to match.
It's going to be a sad day when we have to return Witchy to the library. But then I'll get my Charlotte back all to myself. No, I'm not jealous. Not jealous. I am not. Really. Not a bit. (Poor me...)

Running and Running
Sam's on the Junior High Cross-Country team. It's been fun to watch him race, although I do have those Mommy moments when I worry if he's having a good time, if he ate enough, if he's staying hydrated, if he's safe, if he's.... "Oh, Mom'" Sam groans, "I'm okay!" Okay.

Speaking of races, as a last minute thing I ran a local 10K a week ago yesterday. It was a fund raiser for Make-A-Wish. The course was all hills - long steep hills up the first half, then down the same hills the second half. Luckily these are the very same hills I train on, so I knew what was coming and I was conditioned to them. Somehow I ran my fastest 10K yet at an average of 7:38 minute miles (I took full advantage of the fast downhills to get that average - my uphills were like 8:30 minute miles). The race was tiny (like 30 people), and I finished 3rd overall for men and women, and 2nd for women. Oh, and I finally figured out the RUSH Triathlon times (silly me - you have to actually click on your name to get your splits! Who'd have thought?).



Fall(-ing for) Food
Autumn is visiting today, so it was a perfect day for soup and bread. This Creamy Chicken Noodle Soup is one of my favorites. You make the soup in one large pot, and the cream sauce in a smaller pot, then combine in the large pot.

Creamy Chicken Noodle Soup
4 Cups cooked chicken, cubed
4 Celery stalks, chopped
4 Large Carrots, sliced
1 Med. Onion, chopped
1 scant tsp. celery salt
1 scant tsp. onion salt
1 scant tsp. garlic salt (OR 3 Tsp. any salt)
1/2 tsp. Poultry Seasoning
Chicken broth or bouillon to cover above (about 8-10 cups)

2-4 cups Dry Egg noodles

Combine chicken, salts, poultry seasoning, celery, onion and carrots and broth to cover; boil, then add noodles. Cook 15 minutes or until done.

Make Cream Sauce:
3/4 Cup butter, melted (or melt in pot)
3/4 Cup flour
1/2 tsp. salt (optional)
3/4 tsp. pepper
1 qt (4 Cups) Milk

In a large pot, combine melted butter and flour, mixing until smooth and thick. Add milk gradually, letting it thicken a little at a time, stirring often. Stir in salt and pepper. For a thicker soup, let the cream sauce cook (stirring often) until thickened. Add to soup once the noodles are done.


Garlic Pull-Apart Bread

This is the perfect bread to go along with the soup. First I make a regular bread machine rolls recipe:
1 cup Milk (warmed on high in microwave for 1 minute)
1/2 cup butter (softened in the microwave in the same cup I warmed the milk in)
2 large eggs, lightly beaten (I whisk them in the same milk/butter cup)
1/4 cup sugar
3/4 tsp. salt
4 cups Bread Flour
1 Tbs. Instant Yeast

In bread machine, combine in order given. Set to dough cycle (You can do this in a regular Kitchen Aid or Bosch type mixer, too - just make dough and let rise).
Using about 3/4 of the dough, I make the Pull-Apart Bread. (I use the other 1/4 to make 6-8 regular rolls).
Garlic Pull-Apart Bread
Melt 2 Tbs. butter in a small skillet over medium heat. Add 2-3 tsp. minced garlic and saute 3 minutes.
Roll dough into an 8 x 12 inch rectangle. Spread garlic mixture over top of dough. Cut into 4 strips vertically, then horizontally to get 16 (3x2 inch) pieces. Place pieces in a greased 8 1/2 x 4 1/2 inch loaf pan. (The arrangement will look like an accordion pleat.) I tip the loaf pan up a little to help stack the rectangles, turning each one with a corner up opposite to the rectangle before and after so it alternates. When I'm done, I set the pan down and move everything to fill the pan evenly. Cover with a cloth and let rise in a warm place until slices fill pan, about 1 hour.
Preheat oven to 375 F.
Bake about 30 minutes, until golden brown, placing foil on top after 10 minutes. Immediately invert bread onto a wire rack; cool slightly. Serve warm. Makes 1 loaf. Serves 8.


Pumpkin Pie Cake
To round out the comfort food dinner tonight, I made this easy and low-calorie (KIDDING!) dessert.

1 can (15 oz) solid pack pumpkin
1 can (12 oz) evaporated milk
3 eggs
1 Cup sugar
4 tsp. pumpkin pie spice
1 package (18 1/4 oz) yellow cake mix (white cake mix works, too)
3/4 Cup butter or margarine, melted
1 1/2 Cups chopped walnuts (optional)

In a mixing bowl, mix pumpkin, milk, eggs, sugar, and spice. Pour into a greased 9x13 baking pan. Sprinkle with the dry cake mix, then drizzle melted butter over the top (it's totally fine if there are dry patches). Top with walnuts, if you want. Bake at 350F for 1 hour or until knife inserted near the center comes out clean. Serve with ice cream or whipped cream if you want.


Juicy Apples
Not the best pictures, but you can get the general idea of how our apple juicing is coming along - it's fun and everyone can help. Charlotte was off playing with the witch puppet, but she could've helped if she'd wanted.

Monday, September 5, 2011

Family History Begins & Continues

When I was a little girl - like, elementary and middle school age - my mom would occasionally take me out of school for the day to accompany her to cemeteries and records places throughout New England. She would walk me through really, really old cemeteries, checking out headstones and writing down names and dates. She had me fill in information on unbelievably large pieces of papers that had to be folded just right or you'd lose track of where things belonged. I learned to put rolls of film on readers and scroll through them over a light box, looking for something legible and pertinent.
We were doing genealogy.
A few years later, I got it into my head that doing genealogy was for old people (like my mom who was probably a good 40 years old at the time - quite ancient), and that it was a symbol of the end of one's life's work, so therefore it meant - da da da daaaa (drum roll) - DEATH. And not the deaths of the millions of names recorded already, but a new and very personal end of someone's life.
Mine.
Superstitious as it may seem, I was convinced that the moment I agreed to delve into records again, that would be the moment that signified my own imminent demise. And, believe it or not, I didn't want to die. Not yet.
So as sort of a one-sided bargain with my ancestors, I agreed (in my mind) to do their genealogy as soon as I was old and ready to die. They'd just have to wait for me to feel comfortable with wrapping up my life.
My mom's been very patient, and has prodded regularly, but gently, as she invited me to join her in this older-person's pursuit (now that I'm close to 40 I have to think she must have been an anomaly to join the elderly genealogists at so young an age...). My genealogist-neighbors who are near my age then must also be an exception to the age-rule. (I'm beginning to wonder where I came up with that rule, anyway?)
Well, I'm a believer in dreams. Whether they're products of our mind's workings or sometimes thoughts sent our way from God, often they truly are instructive.
I dreamed last week that I was in an office building with my husband and kids, and we were gathered around Jeff who sat at a computer. I dreamed that a man in old-fashioned clothes walked in to the office we were in. He was representing an entire group of people, and as their representative it was his job to question how things were going and what was I doing with the information. He pointed out four manila envelopes, full of papers, I presume. He was in a hurry and didn't stay to chat, but I could tell he was trying to not let his obvious irritation be so obvious. I was disappointing him, he was trying to be understanding but was a little miffed at my reluctance, but thankfully there was still time to get things done.
A creepy puppet showed up in the dream, trying to distract me with fear, trying to chase me in the halls. But my family and I told him to go away, and he did. Was that an embodiment of my silly superstitions?
Well, long story short, I got on to the New Family Search the next evening and decided to at least get acquainted with my family. While I was there I figured I'd add in some missing information - and promptly ruined family ties. I called my mom in a panic, and with her help I managed to unlink people I'd accidentally linked (am I even using the right words?).
And the following day, my mom called me over to her house where she patiently walked me through online research of old census records. I'm not sure what I did, but at least I started. I mentioned to my mom that this was kind of depressing, looking at the deaths of all these people. Well, I could see her thinking as she kind of looked at me askance, that's kind of what genealogy deals with, you know. There's that "D" word again...

I told my dad as I walked back home (he was outside - we live just across the street) very proudly that I'd been working on his genealogy.
Dad laughed, "It's YOUR genealogy, too, you know!" Oh, right.

Nothing like a good haunting to get you out of your comfort zone. I'm going to start on this genealogy phase - I'd rather not be visited by disgruntled ancestors anymore.

So if I end up dying in the near future, it's because I'm doing genealogy. Or maybe, just maybe, only when I STOP doing genealogy does that signify the end of my life's work... I'd better get (and keep) going!

The Amazing Homemaker - Laundry edition

I'd like to think that after so many years of being a homemaker, that I'd qualify as at least a bit of an expert.
Hah.
Two months ago I went to the store to get new laundry detergent. Being the frugally-minded type, I first looked at price tags. Seeing a name-brand bottle on sale at the same price as the generic brand, and also being the it-better-be-worth-it type, I avoided the generic brand and pounced on the name brand. I toted it home, my prize from the hunt, and proudly placed it in the laundry room cupboard.
I used it that very day. Oooh, it smelled so good and so fresh. I toyed with the idea of gathering more of these lovely bottles (on sale) and stocking the cabinet with my treasure. I was quite proud of myself.
I ought to taken it as a sign that something was not right, ought to have realized something just might be amiss, when the good and fresh scent in the laundry room grew daily until it sickened me just to pass by the door. Laundry day came again and I had to brave the smell. Lo and behold, when I opened the cabinet there was a good half-inch thick layer of the liquidy stuff. The bottom of the cupboard had bubbled, the wood trim had turned color, and it dripped steadily out the open door. It was not a good omen.
I cleaned up the mess, saving some of the gooey smelliness and washing the rest away. So much of it had dripped straight down into the open washing machine that I had visions of the next load of laundry bubbling over and filling the room. So before Jeff and I went out that evening, I pulled the boys in secretly to the laundry room (who wants the world - or our husbands - to know our mistakes, right?) and showed them how to turn the washing machine off...just in case. I told the kids to call me if anything funny started happening.
The boys called me. Maybe I scared them into over vigilance, but the moment they heard the washing machine rock a bit, they ran in and shut it off. I checked it when I got home - thankfully everything was okay.
But everything was not okay. Still, during the next two months, our clothes just got so soft, softer than they'd ever been. It was lovely. I was delighted with my purchase, delighted how wonderful everything felt and (now that the mess was cleaned up and not overpowering my sense of smell) how fresh everything smelled. So soft, so very, very soft...too soft. The towels stopped toweling, and the wash cloths stopped washing. I said to Jeff once that they almost felt slimy-soft.
This past Saturday night Jeff started a load of laundry. He asked where I kept the detergent (sometimes I change cupboards, depending on the size of the box or bottle). I pointed it out and turned to leave.
"Um, Steph?"
"What?"
"Is this what you've been using?" He held the name-brand super-sale find I'd patted myself on the back about every time I'd done laundry the past two months.
"Yes, why?" I waited for some answer about how he didn't like the smell - maybe it was too girly or something.
"This isn't laundry detergent."
"Huh?" I didn't believe him. "It was in the laundry detergent aisle, Jeff." That explains everything, right?
"No, look - this is fabric softener."

For two months I've "washed" our clothes in Snuggle Fabric Softener. Our clothes have looked clean enough, and have definitely smelled clean enough, and have certainly been the softest they've EVER been. But...whoops.

Did you know you're not supposed to wash towels and dish rags with fabric softener? They get coated with the stuff (which makes them soft) and can't absorb water (thus the slimy feeling). Actually, did you know you're not supposed to wash anything with just fabric softener?

You're supposed to use detergent.

There's probably something to be said for laughing at yourself. I'm still not laughing, though. I'm in shock.

But Jeff is laughing. I think I'll try a baby powder scent on his clothes and see who laughs then! Just kidding. I'm guess I'm laughing, too. Sort of.

Tuesday, August 30, 2011

Various and Sundry

The girls looked so colorful, I couldn't help taking the picture. We're on our way to church.

Oliver surprised me this week with a cool trick. He made a candle, lit it, then when it had burned out, HE ATE IT! I was taken aback, to say the least. (The candle was a piece of a cheese stick with a slivered almond for the wick).


Yum. These cookies turned out great. I'll add the recipe in a bit. They're a chocolate chip oatmeal cookie. So good.



Well, in case anyone doesn't know, my Eleanor loves bugs, and has taught Charlotte to be a Bugger, too. Hmm, that's not exactly the right word, is it?



Saturday's harvest was a pleasant surprise. Jeff gathered these lovely veggies from the garden we (he) had planted and then practically ignored the rest of the summer. Nice of the food to grow for us. But now we have to eat it all... That's not a bad thing, despite what Charlotte's face may suggest.


There's no such thing as too much love. Or is there?

Jeff's a patient papa.


The boys have had a lot of fun playing hockey on the driveway. Cute little goal cages, coupled with the mini sticks (it's only the ends of sticks they're using), makes a perfect drive-way size hockey rink. Field. Whatever. Notice Oliver's Vibram 5 Fingers that he bought (that's where his lawn mowing money went this year - poor kid will probably outgrow them by next month).



Yes, I am the mother of four monkeys. What does that make me? Busy, that's what.

Sunday, August 21, 2011

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.


Friday, August 5, 2011

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.