Yeesh.

Thank god it's a three day weekend starting tomorrow.

I didn't know it was possible to be this far behind after only four days of school. Holy hell.

The phone call.

dmb at sandstone, 2003
Originally uploaded by mandapanda191

Every summer, after the Dave Matthews Band concert in Kansas City, I get a late night phone call from my friends back home. Erica calls me from the parking lot after the show, and after everyone shouts a chorus of "hello's" she passes the phone around and I get to talk to each of them.

It's the very essence of bittersweet for me. I miss those guys a lot, and I love that they still include me in this small way. It's with an achy happiness that I listen to their animated, slightly tipsy yarn of the evening's events.

I'm glad I'm here, but it's moments like these I wish I were there.

Another year, and other updates.

Yesterday was the first day of classes this semester. I'm impressed by my professors, as they all seem organized and highly competent. The organizational factor makes a difference in the student experience for any class, but particularly so in nursing classes. We divide our time between classroom lectures, lab simulations, and in- and outpatient clinical settings, so if the teacher or course isn't very organized it becomes a scheduling nightmare.
I'm excited for my clinicals this semester. This fall we're in obstetrics and pediatrics, so there's all sorts of settings we'll get to work in - hospital for deliveries, pediatrics and NICU, pediatrician's offices, school nurse offices, hearing and eye screenings for children. We might get to do some health teaching classes with kids. It will be a nice change from med/surg.

Around the 20th of August a damp, cool weather front moved through, which cleared the smoke and helped to calm the fires a bit. Sadly, between the cooler weather and the prior weeks of gray smoky skies, we ended summer early this year. My tan lines faded even before classes began. As I'm writing this, the temperature on my desktop weather reads 44°.

This Saturday is the first Griz football game of the season. I wasn't able to go any last year (I was scheduled to work during every home game!), so I'm excited to get to a couple this season. I may be an MSU student, but I'm still a Griz fan. :)

Fire!

This morning when I went out to my car, it was covered with a dusting of ash and bits of blackened debris. The sun today is a dark orange sphere, feebly shining through the thick gray atmosphere. Fire season is in full swing once again...
We have two major fires burning within twenty or so minutes of Missoula, and apparently the entire state of Idaho is on fire. Below is a satellite photo of the Idaho and Western Montana fires, from earthobservatory.nasa.gov.

(Here is a link to the original photo.)

As you can see, the smoke from Idaho is blowing directly over our area. With the inversion factor that happens in our little valley, the smoke gets trapped in and just stays. Ick.

Everybody seems a bit cross these days, and who can blame them? It’s hard to keep cheery when there’s no sunshine. For me, it doesn’t help that I haven’t been able to go running - I worry about breathing the dirty air for very long.

Here's hoping for some rain.



If you're interested, here are some Montana fire-related links:
Montana air quality (as of 1:00 today, ours was considered 'unhealthy'.)
Inciweb fire tracker for Montana

Bigfoot Ironman, Harrison Mills, British Columbia.

Luis completed his first Ironman in 11:20:02.

His time for the half Ironman last summer was 6:09. (You do the math... that's incredible.)

He's a rock star.

He's also my hero.

My very own Ironman.

Six years ago, back when Luis and I were first dating, he mentioned that he was interested in doing a triathlon. The idea was completely foreign to me, but I figured that if he was interested he should go for it. There were two small obstacles in the beginning; he didn’t own a bike, and he couldn’t swim. (That is to say, he couldn’t competitively swim. He could get from one side of the pool to the other, but not in any way conducive to racing.) He remedied these little barriers quickly; he bought himself a shiny red road bicycle, and I, as a former (albeit mediocre) member of my high school swim team, helped him with the swimming basics. He was on his way.
Later that year I remember us watching the Ironman Hawaii on television at his apartment one evening. I gawked at the impossible distances these people were covering, thinking how crazy they must be. I mentioned this to Luis, and he just nodded vaguely, captivated by the contenders on the screen.

The next spring I went with him to his first race, somewhere in Missouri. It was a small race - maybe thirty or so participants, and it was a shorter sprint distance triathlon. We arrived early in the morning, and I watched as he and the other competitors set up their transition spots and prepped all of their equipment. I could feel the excitement in the air, but I didn’t really get it. Aside from the racers, there were only a small number of people there – no cheering crowds, no fancy photographers, no trophies. I didn’t understand the appeal at all.
The race got off to a good start. I watched as Luis finished the swim and set out on his bike, cheering him on and taking his picture as we went by. When the other cyclists began to return to the transition area, I started looking out for Luis on his bike. He didn’t show up for some time, and I started wondering if something had happened. A bit later the rescue vehicle came back with a bike and cyclist in tow – unfortunately, Luis’s tire had blown, and his spare tube also had a small hole. After realizing he couldn’t fix it out on the course, he had no choice but to accept a ride back to the race start. Undeterred by the fact that he could no longer ‘officially’ finish, he swapped out his cycling shoes for running shoes and set back out to run. From right then, it was clear how driven he was to continue in this sport.

Fast forward five years. Since that rocky but determined starting race, he’s competed in probably fifteen triathlons, finishing all of them. His name has moved steadily higher in the list of finishing times. He has done longer and longer races. It’s progressed from ‘can I?’ to ‘how far can I go?’ Last year, he competed in his first Half Ironman, or Ironman 70.3. He approached the finish line, not weak or delirious as I had half-worried, but smiling and in great spirits.

This afternoon Luis and I will pack up the car and head to Harrison Mills, British Columbia, where Luis will compete in his first Ironman triathlon. He’s excited and nervous, but he has prepared himself well for what is sure to be a grueling test of endurance. Hundreds of hours he’s spent, running, biking, and swimming his way to this goal. He trained through the freezing winter and into the blistering summer heat. He trains when he wants to, and when he doesn't want to. He is more dedicated than anyone I have ever met. I have confidence that he will finish the race strong.

After having run a couple of road races myself, I finally understand the race day excitement. It’s not about medals or glory, and for most of us, it’s not even about winning. It’s about challenging yourself. It’s about doing things you didn’t know you could. It’s about being with others who share a passion for something you love, for something you do. It’s amazing.

They say that 5% of the population is capable of a half marathon (13.1 miles of running). One tenth of one percent of the population will finish a marathon (26.2 miles). What percentage do you suppose is capable of finishing the 140.6 total miles of an Ironman? 2.4 mile swim, 112 mile bicycle, 26.2 mile run.

I’m ridiculously proud of what he’s doing.

Easily confused.

I recently found out that a friend of mine from class also has a blog here at blogger. This afternoon I popped over to check it out and was momentarily confused - it turns out we both use the same blogger template, so they look very similar! I've grown accustomed to sage green trebuchet text on a dark green background being my words, my voice, so reading someone else's thoughts in the same setting threw me for a second. However, I recovered and had a lovely time looking through her photos and musings. Hi, Bearfeet! Happy blogging!

Housekeeping.

Several things:

First off, I changed my profile description, but I couldn't bring myself to delete the old one entirely. So, I thought I'd post it here for grins. It's still all true - well, except the age. (Oh, and the grey sweaters. I've given several of them to Goodwill.)

"I'm 27 years old. I've been a college student for the majority of my adult life. I'm crazy about the color green, flossing my teeth, shoes, and guys who wear eyeliner. I'll read anything with words on it, and in the absence of books or magazines I've been known to resort to reading the labels on advil bottles or canned soup. Diet Pepsi is my drug of choice. I own six gray sweaters. I'm relatively intelligent and ever so slightly neurotic. In my former life I was a music major, now I'm working on a degree in nursing. I love my mom. I like all of the veggies that no one else will touch, like beets and lima beans, but I won't eat salad. My feet are always cold. I've always wished I were British. I watch the same movies over and over. I take pictures obsessively. I'd like to stop procrastinating, but I haven't yet.
Now you know."

Second: I wrote a post months ago, pleading for readers to rename my blog. I never posted a follow up to that entry, so here it is. The name of this blog, forevermore or until I decide to change it, will be Hi, my name is Mandi. I was delighted by the number of great suggestions I got, and I was surprised by the number of responses saying that they liked the name I was already using. Thanks for the wonderful suggestions, and it looks like majority (and perhaps laziness) rules on this one.

Summer is a bowl of Flathead cherries.

It’s a quiet day at the office today. I’m sitting with the wastebasket pulled up next to my chair, so I have someplace to deposit pits as I eat my way steadily through a bowl full of ripe Flathead cherries. Cherries are one of the many lovely things about summer. (Of course, for me, various fruits comprise at least half of my list of ‘favorite summer things’… but that’s another post.) I adore the summers in Western Montana, but they are much shorter than I’m used to. In the Midwest, summer is still in full force through the month of August, and often the summer heat hangs in the air into September. Here in Montana, however, August seems to signal the beginning of the end of summer. The night temperatures begin faithfully dipping back down to the 50’s, sunset quickly recedes back into early evening, and even the sunshine feels weaker, as though resigned to allow cooler weather to take back over.
As summer slips away, I always feel tugging sense of loss. Another season of cold to endure before we return to backyard barbecues, camping, and tubing on the river. Fortunately, my cheer returns with the first breath of autumn in the air. Fall is my favorite season, hands down. I love the smells, and the baking, and new jeans and sweaters, and the football games, and the coziness.
Looking back through old entries, I’ve noticed that shifting of the seasons is a recurring topic in my writing. I’m captivated by the subtle changes that move us from season to season. Perhaps it’s my distant Native American heritage peeking through, but I feel drawn to the earth as it renews itself. There’s something awe inspiring about the first shoots of green pushing through the cold hard ground, or the first leaf crisping and falling from its branch. Change is inevitable, change is necessary. Change is beautiful.

I look forward to one more bowl of cherries before fall.