Let it snow, let it snow let it snow

Snow storm round 2 hit today. Actually we woke up to winter wonderland. I say, if it's going to be winter it might as well snow-we look pretty funny snowshoeing in the mud. Winter trail running is a great cross training workout.

Back to the, "I'm a bad blogger" posting. Thanksgiving was a success-I made the bird and it was the best ever (by trifamily standards), if I should say so myself. We run the 5K with a group of friends in the morning and meet up with a larger group of friends for coffee. Great mental preparation for the assault on the Thanksgiving kitchen. Unlike Verticleman, I leave all the cooking to essentially the day of- but it was tasty.

The moratorium on Christmas ended at 12:06 am when Trihubby and Hyphengirl woke me singing Jingle Bells- they thought they were so funny-actually so did I. Then the alarm blasted at 3:55 am. It was Black Friday and there were sales to be had, so I picked up my neighbor at 4:30 and off we went. Unbeknownst to the entire metro, especially the weather guys, a winter storm was blowing through town. Can you beat a snowstorm on the first day of Christmas? We went to the evil, slave whoring Walmart and arrived at 4:45 to a line of 200 or so people. There was no body marking, but a definite race intensity was in the air. My neighbor and I chatted with 3 teen boys behind us in line and try to pry the insiders info from them. What in the heck got all of these Polaris clad people out of their turkey slumber to stand in line at Walmart. At 4:58 a cheer erupted at the front of the line and the first waves charged into the water, the Walmart .5K was underway. There was a slow press of mass broiling towards the two entrance doors. At first it was all civil and orderly, then one elderly Viking jacket slipped, the slip was mistaken for a run and all shopping hell broke loose-Viking jacket was never seen again. We were running now- Why are we running? I have no idea! I was here for the humor, not the $388 laptop. The carnage continued in the entrance where panicked shoppers wrestled over carts and bumper cart madness ensued. We headed to the toy aisle, wisely picking up a cart amongst those lined up in an aisle along the way and promptly hit a snarl of electronics traffic. Now the temptation in Black Friday shopping is to get caught up in the fervor and insist on having what everyone else insists on having. No, I don't need $2.88 dvd's I'll never watch. The dinner roll madness will not effect me today. We arrived at toys and quickly found the two sale items that had tempted us to brave the snow and the morning, clutching them close as leaving them in the cart might forfeit them to a cart burglar. Now time to employ my favorite spritely activity. Listening intently and looking in carts, I ascertain the "must have" toy and seek it out. Then you wander up and down the aisles careful to display your booty. "Oh, you found the twin Light Sabers with 1202 options! Where did you get that?" Using the Light Saber, you point the sale maddened mom down the aisles to the Light Saber kiosk and watch her hurdle electric cart man enroute. I am evil. I don't even want Light Saber with 1202 options, but I carry my little symbol of shopping acumen with me all the way to the check out line and nochanlantly hand it to the sales clerk who is busy returning merchandise to shelves. By 5:40 am we are off to the -Evil Empire- run by homosexuals who hate the Salvation Army -Target. (I learned so much about retail politics at Thanksgiving dinner where opposing talk radio addicts clashed over pie-another glass of wine anyone? Thanks I'll take two.) The local tv station was filming the melee, which had dissipated considerably, at the big red. We paused long enough to watch and remember that we had yet to ingest any caffeine. So, leave the carts and walk through the mall to the local coffee shop kiosk. There was a line, not bad by Black Friday standards, but a line none the less. The poor barista was working furiously but the wait exceeded corporate's "2 minute wait to service" standard. Poor girl. "1/2 caf, skinny double whip fa la latte for Beelzebub- please come again...soon. By "soon" she was already shuffling through the next drink so it came out in "@#$% I just burned my hand on that groupa again angst 'soon'" I wanted to jump behind the counter and give her a hand- I was a mighty efficient barista in my day-although don't ask me for a cap-I can't make foam. Drinks in hand we headed back to Target, and had to find new carts-talk about effeciency. I left at 4:30 am and arrived home at 11:30 a.m. summary-shop, shop, shop. Four stores, lot's of money and lot's of fun with neighbor, promises to make this a tradition. By noon the snow was falling in buckets and blusters threatening the longest standing trifamily tradition-Christmas Tree Friday. We drive to a little tree farm about 45 minutes north or south (two farms owned by the same family) and cut our own tree. With trepidation we head out and weigh our options; we could go to IKEA, but that means not cutting the tree ourselves, we could go Saturday and aaaaagggghhhh break the Tradition! We were ready to turn back for the Saturday option but Hyphen Girl began to cry. Why do daughter's tears have such an effect on dads? We kept driving. Almost lost it on the road a few times, but nothing life threatening. It was a winter wonderland, complete with horse drawn sleigh rides with "Blue Blocker, whiskey flasked, Santa" candy canes and a petting zoo (2 guinea pigs and a chiken with chicks) we cut the tree, sang songs and had a merry time. When it comes time to strapping the tree to the roof, we have it down to a science, thankful for my girl scout knot training and Trihubby's ability to hoist the thing to the roof in one sweeping motion. Never lost a tree yet on the "test highway frontage road". Stopped for lights and a snack on the way home to Thanksgiving leftovers.

Thanksgiving leftovers. What a great challenge, to be so full of Thanksgivings that there are always leftovers the next day.

More tomorrow-I think. Biked 60 minutes at high rpm (whatever that means) swim run brick today.

holy buckets, it's Saturday

You would think by my constant lack of consistency that I don't like to blog-fact is, I'm blogging all the time in my head. As I zip along through my days numerous things cross my mind that should be archived into print. It's not a lack of material, it's a lack of time. So, in brief, Thanksgiving was great-we started the day with the Arena 5K-this would be my 11th running and Hyphen Girls first Turkey trot. Unfortunately for her, the normal temp hovers around 35 degrees-this morning we woke to a blustrey 9 with a 0 wind chill. For those of you in the balmy states-that is cold, but not yet damn cold. We save damn for when Hell freezes over and dumps the waste on our front lawn. But it is cold when you are going out to run your first Turkey Trot.


The race begins at the home of the wayward T Wolves and chugs down Hennepin Ave, across the Mississippi-I can no longer feel my nose or cheeks-River, winds east a few blocks and then returns on the Third Avenune-my feet feel like I've just T2'd-bridge. At mile 2.1 HG is getting ear aches from the cold wind, so I do what any mom that was determined to get her daughter to the finish line would do, I stripped down to my jog bra, pulling off my hoodie, give her the hoodie and get her ears tightly covered and throw my shirt back on. I thought about finishing the race in my jog bra with these guys, but I had dinner to cook and I couldn't get sick. The final mile winds past the Humpty Dome and heads back to the Target Center. As we passed the dome the regular refrain from HG was, "I'm thirsty, where is the water stop?" There are no water stops. "But I'm thirsty" That's because you're overheating in my hoodie and my mammary glands are frozen so keep moving! Needless to say we walked a total of 3 times for about 10 steps and finished in 32:XX-a 16 minute improvement over the summer 5K. I think it helped immensely that once we returned to Hennepin Ave and could see the finish HG broke into weird running movie fanatasy and kicked it home. Of course I was very proud of her-she ran a good race.

For my part, this was the first race I've run since signing up for IMFL. I can just begin to feel Florida now. As the voice of the race talked the runners through the pre run rituals, make your way to the starting line, etc I could sense Florida. There are a lot of races and training before next November, but I'm starting to feel Florida-and it feels good. I can't feel my fingers or toes but what are going to do?

Did a 2500 swim-20 min 2.4 mile run and core blitz this am with Trihubby.

Tomorrow- The Walmart .5K, the hunt for Christmas in a blizzard and a few more Thanksgiving items.

I'd like to teach the world to sing

and then again, maybe not. I have this rare talent for memorizing show tunes as they unfold in a movie and recently have been singing the little diddy sung by Steve Martin and Martin Short in "The Three Amigos". Chevy Chase banged out the tune on the piano....my little buttercup (note, note) has the sweetest smile, do do do do do de do, and on it goes. I wouldn't mind the tune with the exception that I find it irksome to know a song I've heard once 20 years ago. That movie came out the year I graduated from high school. Add that to the list of reasons for doing an Ironman. I moved my senior year of high school, so I've never made an issue of reunions etc. My best friend died of a brain tumor before the five year, his funeral was reunion enough. Funny how songs can drive thoughts. Three days before we left for different universities this friend asked me to marry him. I turned him down-then and on three other occasions. We were like two peas in a pod, and I loved him, but we wouldn't have made for a good marriage-call it instinct. I would have been a 21 year old widow-makes me thankful for instinct.

So, what are you doing now? Well I'm training for an Ironman in November. And I can sing old, obscure songs.

As long as I can remember I've generally had a song of some kind meandering through my head-a song for every occasion-and it drives my kids nuts. ("I'm turning Japanese"-in case you're wondering and I have no idea what "turning Japanese and going nuts have in common other than that the song has a frenetic pace.)What exactly do they mean anyhow? And what exactly were Hyphen Girl and Soapinator thinking while I was away? Yellow isn't your brother's color! They have to act out their torment somewhere...Christmas is coming...BUT NOT YET!!!!!!!!!

We have a Christmas moratorium in efffect-the official first day of Christmas is the Friday following Thanksgiving-until 12:01 a.m. there is no music, no lights, no candy, no Christmas. I have to stand tough in my resolve against the unrelenting barage of requests for Christmas music-but I will stand firm-there is more to this iron training than just swim/bike/run you know.

Link to story

Kahuna story

Shifting gears

I had a different post in mind for today, but then I read
Kahuna's piece on the LA Times front page. An incredibly tragic story that needs to be read and discussed by serious people. Allowing these stories to be told brings hope for those who were victimized because they have been believed, finally. If you are a praying person, pray for them that they can find the distinction between good and evil and know that a man is not "of God" by virtue of what he puts on, but by virtue of what he does. What that so called minister did was evil, but God can and often does turn those things for good.

If anyone knows of a good way to lend financial assistance to those villages, please leave me a link in comments.

Full moon, shopping etc

Tridaddy is an amateur photographer (aren't we all to some degree or another) and he enjoys taking pictures of the moon.
Now if I can just get him to focus on the right one, I might actually get my "4 phases" photos that I want to frame for the living room. (did I say amatuer, or immature?)

If you think that's a little too racy, imagine my surprise when I clicked on my

Bolder site only to discover that while P. Dawg was away this summer some perverse little blogophile took over his original site. I kept his link in my sidebar to remember to pray for him and now he's back-with a new blog name. I'll make the changes asap. While I'm at it, I plan to add more links to my side bar-if you want a feature in the link field email me your site. It takes me about a day to do one when I have to cut and paste-since this paste has no taste, it's no fun.

Speaking of eating paste, my training yesterday had zero effect on an Ironman outcome, other than sheer mental endurance. Come along for the ride:

8:10 shuttle to E1 with Kid 2, 3-drop off
8:35 home-take care of K1 who is home with stomach flu. Haul wood, build fire, do dishes, fold 4 loads laundry and add to previous 12 loads, sweep floors, clean bathroom
10:35 feed K4, K1 still feels sick
11:00 shuttle K4 to E2-drop off
11:30 arrive back at E1 for recess duty. Temp 17, windchill minus 8. Windchill only counts when you're in the wind, short straw me, I walk the soccer field and woods, I get wind chill. We had ice, so body sliding across the infield is sport of choice.
1:15 return to car-can't feel my fingers, nose, or toes-isn't it January yet? A day wrapped in tinfoil on the equator sounds nice right now.
1:30 stop by home, check on K1 barf status-no barf, still sick
1:35 arrive back at E2 to help paint hand turkeys. What is a Thanksgiving without hand turkeys. Sorry craft did not entail paste, no snack today kids. However I did fianlly peg that detail that has itched at the back of my mind-that smell what is it? It's gas. Why do kindergarten rooms always smell post digestive? Social graces must be taught in first grade.
2:35 hands clean off to grocery store. If you buy 3 pre formed dinner rolls in a can you get a pound of butter free. We don't eat canned preformed dinner rolls, but grandpa shopper convinced me you can't pass up a free pound of butter. Rolls anyone?
3:10 return home-nurse K1 with gingerale, throw bags on kitchen floor
3:20 p/u K4 at bus stop
3:30 return to E1 p/u K2 and K3 plus friend
4:00 make a move rush hour driving-arrive in downtown, drop off friend K3 and K4
4:30 more make a move, travel with K2 to furniture store #12 to look yet again for chairs. Overturned crates are starting to appeal right now.
5:00 "If someone scares you 1/2 to death are you really dead?"
5:01 No, you're still 1/2 alive. You only die when you are scared to death.
5:05 Third grade philosophy lesson ends.
6:05 After working with super great leather sales person, encounter woeful "other" chair salesperson. Other salesperson is in midlife crisis with new puppy, new boyfriend, new home...................
6:20 Finally-she breathes. I need a new chair.
6:22 "I need a new chair too..................finances..........not meeting sales quotas..........
6:30 breaking back to helpful leather salesperson
7:30 Hallelujah! Hallelujah! (no disrespect intended towards Handel) Shopping finally accomplished!
7:45 Stop at wine store thankful there is a "q" in liquor or the alphabet game might have ended poorly. "V" vodka, "Z" zinfandel and we're out the door.
8:00 home at last.
8:10 the stale cookie at furniture store did not equate to satisfying dinner-stoke fire, make soft tacos, open wine
8:30 tuck K1,2,3,4 into bed
9:00 good night

Hibernating sucks!

My food compulsion has reached big fat squirrel proportions so I'm going Kashi. If you wnat to talk colon clensing and buttcamp Susan can direct you. Kashi GoLean has a rotor rooter like effect but only after it's hot air balloon effect. After about three days you are back to normal, and it normally curbs my hunger and I direct my eating more than my impulses direct my eating.

It is a frigid 19 degrees right now with 30-40 mph sustained gusts-Mn kids learn to factor windchill in preschool. We got a smattering of snow, an insult in the face of predicted 6-8 inches, but we got cold. It's suppose to warm up next week for Thanksgiving, just in time for the "run a 5K with 10,000 other people through the crowded streets of Minneapolis on Thanksgiving morning" run aka Arean 5k. This will be my 11th running of the Turkey and Hyphen Girl is going in and doing the race this year. I used to feel like a a 5k was license to stuff myself silly later in the day, now it's just a warm up. If I didn't have to make the turkey I'd be tempted to run into downtown, then do the race. If I got up at 5, I could do that. Now we're talking seconds!

I have recess duty today-I am going to die. I have almost no insulation left, I'm freezing all the time-time to paint on that permanant long underware-added incentive for poor Tridaddy to take me to Arizona in January-the promise of skin :)

Going downstairs to go dig out the snow pants, boots, mittens etc

Baby on board

No, no, no, I'm not pregnant-we've been through that already, don't need to go there again. It's just that all this excitement about t-shirts for
training and Iron inspiration tripped my brain over to those t-shirts that pregnant woman wear-baby with a large arrow pointing to their stomach. I like the male version better: "Beer" with a large arrow pointing to their stomach. At any rate, for the love of google, I entered b.o.b. into the search engine and was instantly directed to a web store featuring a wide array of b.o.b. wear. Fear not oh buxom male friends, there is a "baby on board" t-shirt for you, which begs the question, did the site designers pay any attention at all to the slogan they were plastering on every soft piece of merchandise they were selling? Given this one, I tend to think not. Although I could see some frat boy having a great time at a party sporting these. Perhaps not. I suppose if you are on a quest for a one nighter it's better not to advertise consequence on your shorts. My suspicion of ineptitude was confirmed by this final offering:
A thong!?! They expect a pregnant woman to wear a thong? Then I was reminded of the humor that got me to b.o.b in the first place. Wil has a shirt with "The Top 10 Reasons I Tri" and it made me want a b.o.b shirt with a top 10 reasons I'm "bob-ing"

10) The vikes were losing 42-3 at half time

9) Birth control in Wisconsin? Fishing/bow/firearm/duck, opener. Which explains the lack thereof within a 50 mile radius of that little cabin in the woods.

8) Antibiotics v BC = blue dot on the ept

7) Valentine's day

So, you get the picture, and for some reason this just made me laugh. I suspect my brain was still frozen from the run. I really need to get some UnderArmor.

7 strong miles. The kind that make you glad to be a runner. Today is a staff meeting at work, so it's a swim day as well.

Have a good one,

biking and on

Friday was a beautiful 65 degrees so I had to get out and bike-how great to be outside biking on Nov 11th. If you don't live in a cold weather state this makes no sense-there is a forecast for 5-7 inches of snow tomorrow so the rest of the season will be spin city (wasn't that a television show at some point)

I urge my fellow athletes to check out this site. There is a couple of great articles on training in the offseason. I'm realizing I don't want to spend a lot of mental energy to train right now, I'm basically keeping consistent, lifting weights as often as I can and not getting too worried about anything but the basics. I have a year to be intense, I just think it might get old or difficult to stay at a race training intensity for that long. I have my plan in place and it doesn't call for major "oh my gosh" training until late April. I have some parameters and goals to keep me honest, Chang's Marathon for instance, so I won't be going back to ground zero by any means. My plan is to keep up my endurance but to build a lot of strength in this off season. Did you happen to see the muscle mass and balance of Sarah R-the one legged Ironman from Kona. Having muscle envy right now. This picture doesn't do justice to the live images from Saturday's airing of Kona. I want to be a strong, steady athlete. That is the goal, and on that note, I need to go out and run for an hour. It's cold here-I don't really want to go, ask me again in 20 minutes when I've warmed up :)

I need a run, school conferences are tonight.

Lara Croft?!?!?

I didFlatman's super hero quiz. I'm Lara Croft? I haven't read the comic nor seen the movie, so I have some homework before I comment. Maybe I'm hung up on the Angelina Jolie aspect. Although, she has adopted 2 kids which puts her far above the rest of Hollywood in my book. The funniest question in the quiz was the one about liking tight fitting outfits. Can you tri and not like skin tight?


Vertical Man has me second guessing this a little (read down a few posts to his 10K race report) I had no idea my booty could be a carrot-albeit it would have to be a very hungry mule- see now I want to say ...hungry mule or ass. But I've come to realize a man is not an ass for looking (I say in tribute to finally growing out of my youthful 20 year old college feminist thinking), any more than a man is a tyrant for holding a door open for me. My goodness that education was destructive.

I'm going to stop for now, because on one hand a humourous post about guidelines for carrots is developing in my head, along the lines of tight fitting pink spandex, and on the other hand my philosophical, Lara Croft, brain needs to be quick to listen and slow to speak and slower to write about things I haven't thought through first.

Thinking.....thinking.....

I need to get me some colon cleansing

You have about 15 pounds of rotting waste in your colon. If you got rid of that you could race faster.

It was health fair day at work again. This time we set up camp next to the Chiropractors. I'm a sucker for a massage, so I wandered over. The doc I talked with had recently returned from a spa in Thailand with the sole intent of some colon cleansing. Now forgive me if I was laughing hysterically on the inside, couldn't shake the image of Eddie Murphy in The Nutty Professor. I'm all for exotic locales, but 7 days of self administered enemas so as to detoxify my colon, I don't think so. Isn't that why god made fiber? I've been looking for a good chiro for trihubby, so I inquired into his expertise in sports medicine. He assured me he had abundant knowledge and had recently treated a number of marathoners. "You just need to be thoughtful when you go out and run 24 miles from ground zero in your late 20's" Nice guess (I think gently). I'm 37 and a marathon is 26.2. I'm not a running snob, but I do expect a self proclaimed expert to know the basics. They packed up and left early so I never got my chair massage. I had to recruit Standing Long Jump to roll my neck. I bribe him with a "get out of jail free" card. It allows him a pass on any job I ask him to do. Hyphen Girl was beaning me with cheerios the entire time. I guess that counts for exfoliation treatment. Who needs Thailand?

Now on to the delicate question. I've been loading up the hours on the bike and let's just say that makes for some agony in the swimsuit region. What is "butt butter" and is it a cousin to udder balm? Does it work? I am also on the standard issue bike seat, would my gel seat feel better and irritate less?

And the not so delicate question: how can I compute my distance travelled on the trainer? I'm on a Cyclops fluid trainer with no built in mechanism to measure. Does it work to put the bike computer on the back tire, or is there a thing to buy to attach? I'm just doing time right now, but I am curious how fast and far I'm traveling. Thanks.

Sorry, I like global warming

I mowed the lawn in a short sleeve shirt today. Got the rest of the leaves raked and the last of the fertilizer down as well. Tomorrow, I bike. How often do we get to say that the first week of November in Minnesota? My new training program includes a M,W, F swim. It's not a good sign when you miss the first swim of a new training program. I should know better than to implement a new program on a "no school" day which also corresponds with tri hubby's final vacation day and final day of reinventing the basement. Our basement has been a sort of catch everything that is thrown to the bottom of the stairs container since we moved into this house almost 8 years ago. The prior occupant had painted the walls and thrown down some cheap carpet so as to call it "finished" for the sale. He neglected to mention that there were no functioning lights in the "finished" area. One outlet exploded when we plugged a fan into it. So, you might say the wiring needed to be updated. We hauled everything out, stripped er to the bones, re wired, trimmed the new egress windows and gave her a fresh coat of paint. All that's left is to lay the wood flooring. Tri hubby has become quite handy around the house over the years. He's had to because I just keep knocking holes into things. When we first moved in the bathroom was whorehouse ugly. My imagination was not helped with the knowledge that the prior owner had rented the place to prostitutes and crack pushers. So, a month after buying the place tri hubby returned home on a Saturday morning to find the walls of the bathroom on the back lawn. He wasn't very happy. Particularly because he wanted to take a shower. It also didn't help that behind the moulded shower insert I discovered a perfect frame for a window. "We can't have a window in the shower" We can have a glass block window. "We don't know how to install glass block" I know how to do it. At that point it didn't seem like such a good idea to tell him my knowledge consisted of watching my neighbor lay a brick fireplace threshold. Window, threshold, it's just brick and mortar-we can do it. Off to Home Depot-you can fix it, we can help. Well they weren't there at 2 in the morning when the final brick was set in place, but the window is still there. Yea me. So, over the years I make holes and he fixes them. Tri hubby likes wiring. We tore out the false ceiling and left the beams exposed. They look really great painted and give several inches of height to the room. He wired cans into the rafters. I'm not sure if it's overkill, meaning the number of cans installed, but the floor above now vibrates like a nuclear reactor when the lights are on downstairs. Dimmer switches are good. The two greatest things about the new great room: "kids go play downstairs" and a designated training area. I'll post pics of the bike and trainer later.

The boys have been having a great time helping dad, Buck Naked Boy in particular. Yesterday he was having fight #1,817,324 with brother so Trihubby called him over to talk to him. Do you want to go work in the basement? This was meant as a threat of punishment. Yea!!!! All excitement and jumps. I guess that didn't work.

I noticed a cluster of small red dots on Standing Long Jump yesterday, right at his waistline. I've had those before from when I demo'd all of the windows. It has the appearance of a spider getting trapped and biting a half dozen times in an effort to escape. We figure he got them working downstairs. We've always had a lot of spiders in the basement. They lay these little white egg sacks, and we discovered dozens of them when we pulled the rafters down. Out comes the shop vac and now the arachnids are plotting our destruction from the confines of dust and worksite debris. "I can see how SLJ got the spider bite" Trihubby informs me. "There were all those spiders and nests, the spiders are gone now, they must have migrated upstairs" Which explains why it's 3 in the morning and I can't sleep. I knew I should never have watched Aracniphobia.


Link

No buyers remorse

IMFL '06 sold out in less than 3 hours. My morning began at 4 am with a terrible dream whereby I couldn't get my computer to work and I couldn't find the registration page. While I'm remarkably low key about the race (read confident, not unenthusiastic) my dreams bear out the thing I fear most-not getting a chance to dance at all. As I've mentioned, I missed the two biggest sporting events in my life by circumstance and stubborness. Not this one. I registered at 9:03 cst. I paused long enough to read the tome of a waiver-humourous writing at times- and cruise controlled through the quesions. No second thoughts.

Until I got on the treadmill for my first official "in training" workout. Then my mind began to review the questions I'd answered.

Occupation: Homemaker, domestic diva, stay at home mom, however you break it down, average. Who the hell am I to think I should even think about trying an Ironman? (Well, with the kids in school I do probably have more time than any of you to train, at least through the school year-next summer is a different story)

Significant triathlon accomplishments: Who the f*$@ing hell do I think I am signing up for an ironman? I've completed a grand total of 3 sprints and 1 almost olympic distance tri for a grand cumulative total of 6:24 of competition.

Insert string of expletives that commercial grade bleach could not clean from the walls of my mouth.

So, I cranked the 'mill to 6:18 m/miles and let this thinking run it's course. I despise swearing. I loathe the f word. Not in the puritan sense where I cringe around others who swear. I despise the swearing that cascades from my own brain. When I swear, it's not me. It's my s.o.b. of an old man who considered me a cheap f@*#ing whore and went to great pains to prove his point. He hated me and would consider it a crowning achievement to kill me, god knows he tried on more occasions than my memory banks can store.

Have you overcome any significant hurdles to prepare for this event? Hell yes. or Hell. yes.

There are days I struggle to understand why I'm still alive. (my kids, hubby and friends notwithstanding-this is internal me)

Not on race days. On race days I feel absolutely alive.

If a sprint can do that for a person, what an amazing gift an Ironman might be.

A gift from a Father who is I Am, who took over from the one who was not.

Erik Liddel was a Scot, an incredibly principled man, an amazing runner and a missionary. "Chariots of Fire" told his story of Olympic glory. The best line in the movie is when he is explaining his motivation to run to his sister who was indignant that he would allow running to intefer with his work at the mission in China. "God created me to run, and when I run, I feel his pleasure." To feel that pleasure is priceless. 140.6 miles of priceless. So, I'm going to name my new tri bike "Liddle Dream"

Dream big my friends, the team's going to Florida!!

The world is right....

"I have a brain and I know how to use it. I can tell on you, you know."

A bold stroke in playground parlance.

"Whatever."

A dashing blow by le femme fatal and our young knight's ego lays in tattered ruin, scattering with the leaves of fall.

There is something right in the world when you are called to recess duty on the 2nd of November and the temps hover just shy of 70. Recess is considered a short straw duty by many, it's a sacrifice I'm willing to make. The tribe has one of the single greatest playgrounds I've ever experienced. Buffeted by an acre of brush cleared woods, a large soccer field, black top for four square (the most complicated game yet created by young minds) and a public- park like play structure, it is a wonderful place to "do recess"

Round one is 4th and 5th grade and I was assigned to football. What began as a rough and tumble game between two teams of fourth grade boys soon gave way to a melee of fourth vs fifth grade. The likelihood of a completion was Packerish, so it was a low scoring game. The whistle blew and the scrum knocked and pushed and panted it's way back toward the building with the fear of god, aka The principle (a good guy but not one you want to discuss tardiness with).

Round two is second and third. The tribe are represented in each so there were lot's of hugs. A favorite pasttime is fort building in the woods. The future architects and interior designers are among this group.

I have the remote! bellowed one second grader, dragging a door like slab across the turf. I guess the future coach potatoes have to start somewhere. He was headed to the male crisis center, an elaborate configuration of branches and logs and no girls allowed.

Enter le femme. The answer to the male crisis center is the pteradactyl nest peopled with screeching amazons. They've outfitted their pile of leaves with beds, kitchens, cells and pets and boys are not allowed. Well, like the amazon women of old, one boy, the biggest, and dare I say most futile in thinking boy, is servant guardian. I discovered this when I suggested the two boys wrestling in the girls nest should return to the crisis center and le femme informed me that he is their protector. He could stay but the other little boy was banished.

"I have a brain and I know how to use it."

He just couldn't figure out how to gain access to the hen fest. Poor guy.

Had a wonderful 32 mile ride today. Hardly fazed by the drop in temp as a cold front moved in, was that a snow flake? I can tell the time in the trainer is paying off. I've made 1,423,554 dollars watching the World Series of Poker. I could quit my day job, but then who would cover recess?