Trimama tres sheik

Ok Paris, New York, I'm waiting! Apparently everyone wants in onTrimama fashion.

Hat tip to Wendy who has no link because she has no blog, but really should because she is insightful and funny and a dynamic swimmer chick who's brother is doing IMmoo '07.

My training week is going well, which brings me to another point. Ahem, "who knows what's next"
Lana, IMFL is 36 days away. Which means registration for IMFL '07 is in 37 days.

The monumental question is, who is going to step up and fill Trimama's shoes for '07. Someone's gotta represent the cool chicks next year in Florida.

Will it be you?

When I signed up for this journey last year I had never raced farther than a long sprint, in a rookie season, had only recently ran my first marathon, was training on a mountain bike, was still pretty self congratulatory when I swam a whole mile and really didn't have much of a clue about anything.

So, who is next?

The ride to no where

Yea, this could be trouble.

In my defense, when he came home last night, dinner was hot, his beer was cold and I rolled out his back with the massage stick.

Riding yesterday was fabulous, until the two "county" roads I planned to take turned out to be more freeway, with no shoulder, than "county". I have one last 100 or so miler to tackle, I think I'll do a little more re con this time. As it is, when I called Trihubby for some map help, he happened to mention the downpour that was flogging the streets where he was at. I don't mind drizzle, sprinkle, rain shower, but downpour meant getting soaked, and I still had 2.5 hours to ride. That's just misery in the making. So, my ride had a slight diversion. After the drop off, I rode for another 22 miles outside, than brought it home and finished on the trainer. So, that gives me 5.5 hours of actual time moving, which took 6 hours, over the course of 7.5 hours. I guess that's one way to learn patience.

3300 yd swim with 40 min run today

Happy trails

The ride to no where

Yea, this could be trouble.

In my defense, when he came home last night, dinner was hot, his beer was cold and I rolled out his back with the massage stick.

Riding yesterday was fabulous, until the two "county" roads I planned to take turned out to be more freeway, with no shoulder, than "county". I have one last 100 or so miler to tackle, I think I'll do a little more re con this time. As it is, when I called Trihubby for some map help, he happened to mention the downpour that was flogging the streets where he was at. I don't mind drizzle, sprinkle, rain shower, but downpour meant getting soaked, and I still had 2.5 hours to ride. That's just misery in the making. So, my ride had a slight diversion. After the drop off, I rode for another 22 miles outside, than brought it home and finished on the trainer. So, that gives me 5.5 hours of actual time moving, which took 6 hours, over the course of 7.5 hours. I guess that's one way to learn patience.

3300 yd swim with 40 min run today

Happy trails

Some brief notes

Yesterday The Plan called for an 1:20 bike ride "just for fun" Mountain bike, catch ups whatever you want to do. How could you not, on a bluebird day, with crimson dappling the sunshine, strike out on your mountain bike? We have a park close by with numerous double and single track trails. Man, is it good to be alive! So, that was training yesterday.

Tomorrow is a 5.5 hour bike ride, rolling hills, heart rate 1 or 2. Tomorrow calls for a high of 55 with lows (meaning when I head out the door) of 42. and rain. The plan actually calls for the long ride on Friday, but I am running the Twin Cities Marathon, or at least 18 miles of it on Sunday. Trihubby registered and had to drop, so I'm taking his place to run part of the race as a race day simulation. So, it's biking tomorrow. Time to break out the tights, hoodies and toe warmers.

Kahuna if you ask what toe warmers are, I swear I'm catching a red eye and I will personally introduce them to you.

Today was swimming day. Originally I was going to the Y to crank out the yardage, but I haven't been in a wet suit for a month. So, after work, I headed over to the beach with Trihubby, who graciously sat on the beach smoking a Romeo and Julietta while I thrashed out my yardage.

I should have known it was going to be tough when I saw the local PADI class in dry suits. And there I stood in my sleeveless. Can anyone say silicon ear plugs? Obviously, I can't, because I never thought to ask for them at the sporting goods store. They've pulled the swim beach buoys, the birds have headed south (thankfully) so it was just me and the shoreline. A guy sat on shore playing a guitar and singing. If it was an improv concert there might have been a song about the triathlete who turned into an ice cube.

"Oh, it might be 60" responded the very warm, dry suited diver I asked for the lake temp. Uggghhh. But that shouldn't bother you, you're an Ironman.

Whaaa? Oh, he means my Ironman wetsuit. Can't say I didn't like the sound of that though, and we are getting so close, it seemed silly to belabour him with the details of branding, my training etc.

On the bright side, chiggars can't live in that cold of water. At least I hope.

Commodore probably thinks I'm a wimp because he was saying something about Tempe Town Lake being a bit frosty, but I didn't wimp out. I just noted that my arms were burning and red when I finally emerged and my eardrums were frozen. Other than that, no problem.

And now, drumroll !.!.!.!.!

Trihubby is officially in the off season, so he didn't take the plunge in the lake with me. However, he did the IMmoo '07 belly flop this morning and validated his yellow registration slip with a credit card number.

He's in!

I'm so proud!

To commemorate the day he is launching his own blog. Yea! No more looking over my shoulder and saying, you should write this, or write that etc. He's a smart guy, so go check him out and leave him some bloggie love. By day he might be Trihubby, but by evening (and a few early mornings) he will be


Taconite Boy!!!!

How Trihubby got his Man Card back

1) He went and bought something shiny which seems to be the thing that gives cred in the animal kingdom. Sorry, no bike porn, but he's working on that.

2) He knew that Trimama was tired of feeling like a mom/housekeeper/triathlete so he suggested we go out on a date. He open her doors, held her hand and, well you know, Trihubby is the only one who can make Trimama feel like a natural woman. (sing it with me)

3) He took Trimama shopping for clothes.

Now, some of Trimama's clothes have the dubious distinction of being "mom sheik". Ladies you know what I'm talking about. It's the "fat jeans" and baggy sweatshirt. The clothes that do absolutely nothing to flatter Trimama's new, sexy, hot, iron body. (I can't belive I just said that, I think Kahuna is getting to me.

Earlier in the day I had dropped by REI to pick up a swim suit. This is my second swim suit in as many months. The last one I bought has the unseemly characteristic of sliding down my hips every time I turned at the wall. 3600 yards equalled a lot of slipping. It was a little embare-assing if you know what I mean. I also grabbed a pair of awesome black yoga pants to replace the pair that Trihubby had heretofore banned to the waste land of "below mom sheik", meaning, why do you wear those they do absolutely nothing for your hot little booty.

"Oh you got some new work pants."

Aye Carumba! My great new yoga pants never left the mom sheik ballpark. Work clothes being only slightly more flattering than mom sheik. I'm a trainer at the YMCA, what do you expect?

Off to the store we go. Shop, shop, shop.

"Here, try these on." handing me a pair of black pants that look startlingly like the yoga pants I had just bought, only slightly fuzzy.

I emerged from the dressing room to a Trihubby's "Whoa" and nodding approval.

Exactly how are these different than mom sheik?

"Because they are tight on your hot little booty" (fill in hand gesture here.)

Trihubby loves Trimama. Trihubby loves Trimama's body.

And that's man enough for me. Welcome back to the club.

The adventures of Trimama and Taconite Boy

Frankly folks, I'm a little worried. Not so much about Florida any longer, thank you so much for your comments and support, and I had a good chat with my head doc, she's easily one of the best ever, so I think I'm pretty good to go.

No, it's Taconite Boy that has me concerned. You know, when he came home singing along to Kelly Clarkson I thought perhaps his man card had just dropped out of his wallet. But then, after many years of cajoling, Trihubby finally heeded my advice and took his muscle cramped body to a massage therapist. An hour later he called, extolling the virtues of massage therapy, with three more appointments booked.

"I smell good" and by good, he didn't mean Old Spice body spray. He meant lemon lilac, aroma therapy, good.

That's nice honey.

The man card is in serious jeapordy.

The smell of burning masculinity fully erupted last night when Taconite Boy directed me to iTunes to hear some samples of Clay Aiken's new album, which happens to be a cover of some the sappiest love songs ever.

Frankly the whole male wing of the tri alliance has me a little unnerved. What with reports of skinny jeans, plundering a wife's personal products for ice packs and of course, fretting over, company coming we seem to be experiencing a serious drop in testosterone in the blogosphere.

Gentlemen, there was a time when we ladies could expect this
from the male tri community.

For the love of all things good, can someone please go sit in the garage and smoke a big ole stogie, listening to Motley Crew?

I mean if you want to harden that taconite body into a Wisconsin Iron Beast, we'll need a little something to work with.

PSA over

Trimama out!

Training is going fine, Trihubby is pregnant and Fall is defintely here

All, right, I'll start with the obvious concern; Trihubby is pregnant. Not in the Buck Naked Boy sense of pregnant, he hasn't been to the dentist in a while. But more in the, one of my eggs meandered across goodness knows how many cellular membranes and implanted in a pre-evolutionary pouch in TriH's abdomen, where one of his sperm, being surgically impeded from following nature's path, also landed. At least that is the explanation Trihubby gave in my dream. Exactly why a pregnant TH was invading my dreams, I have no idea. It might have something to do with his new found obsession with Kelly Clarkson. Yes, I know outing a Clarkson fan is sinister, but we might as well be done with it. Yesterday Hyphen Girl talked him into buying her new "Walk Away" video, and before I knew it, the whole album was down loaded.

"You really ought to learn to dance like that."

As if becoming an Ironwoman wasn't enough, he wants me to dance like a rock star too?

It was supposed to be cold and rainy yesterday, so I planned to throw the bike on the trainer and spin out 40 miles while watching the 2-0!!! Vikings. It was a picture perfect day, as I discovered on my 30 minute run off.

So, of course today is 44, spitting rain and breezy. Just for fun I checked the PCB weather forecast, figuring I'd stay warm on today's 40 miler with thoughts of Florida. It's 50, stormy and rainy there as well. So, more training fun.

This week my plan calls for 4 days of 40 miles, each day followed by a swim or run. 160 miles biking. Bring it on. I'm also being dilligent in stealing a nap for 30 or 40 minutes everyday to let my brain recover. A tired Trimama brain is nightmare's waiting to pop up brain, and nightmares during the day aren't so fun. I had someone ask me once if I ever have good days or if everyday is shakled by memories (my paraphrase). I responded with this analogy. When I lived in Colorado it stormed every afternoon. Some days it's just a quick rain shower that passes, and some days it was a snowstorm that dumped 2 feet of the white stuff. I suppose it's a little like having lost a love one. Some days you pass with just a dull ache, you walk in the house vaguely aware that they aren't there, you look for a phantom hug, etc and some days, like anniversary's or special moments you ache with your loss. I carry a lot scars and cuts from years and years of violence and mental bludgeoning and pass most days merely aware of that fact. But then there are days when the storm clouds break and an old wound opens and the nightmares and day terrors flare up and that takes a little extra care to navigate. I'm frankly a little concerned that Florida will throw my brain off a mental ledge, and you'll just find me in a fetal position under a palm tree somewhere, but that is where The Tribe and Trihubby (if he can get his pregnant belly on the plane) are god's grace towards me. In triathlon we have this saying regarding racing and training whereby every endevour is another deposit in your race account. I sort of chuckled about this analogy on my last swim. You see, I have two bank accounts. One is my own "fun money" account. This is where my YMCA check is deposited and that money buys fun; race entries, Christmas presents, weekend get aways, etc. I definitely plan to have fun racing Florida, because I can. Because neither my deranged parents nor my "bad" days killed me. Because life is good, and living is sweet. My other bank account is our household acccout. This one pays the essentials. It's the one that keeps the roof over our heads, food on the table and clothes on our back. And this account has overdraft insurance tied to it. Nine thousand dollars worth of protection. It would take a lot of screwed up things to overdraw this account. I've tried. In many races and on multiple training days I've tried. But it's solid. It's solid because it's not just built on my deposits, but it's backed by a good God, a faithful and loving husband and a bundle of affection known as The Tribe. They all conspire to keep me looking foward, forgetting what lay behind, and living this day and everyday better than the last.

There is a guy who rides a scooter around town and his bike cracks me up. He has adorned his bike with 50 or 60 chrome rear view mirrors. So essentially, while he is always moving forward, his view is always back. I can never remember the correct blurb on my car mirrors, it's either "things in mirror are closer than they appear" or "things in mirror appear closer than they are". Either way, the analogy to life is perfect. Some of my experiences appear closer, and more threatening then they are, and I've learned to "talk these down" while on the other hand, some things I thought were farther away, really sit quite comfortably between my ears, waiting to throw a wrench in my spokes. I'm learning to identify these and talk them down as well. It's all about perspective, and this is where it is certainly good luck to break a mirror. Not in the sense of distorting reality with denial, but rather in the sense of accepting where I've come from, assessing the damage done, owning the hurt, and then putting it in perspective relative to today, tomorrow and eternity. I guess it's like being on that bike and moving forward, seeing the road ahead or fixating on an image in the mirror. The reality is, if I keep moving forward, if I let those past things go, if I forgive (which is hard), if I just keep putting one foot in front of the other, eventually the images will fade into a distant speck.

And if I fixate, I crash. Hard.

I'm not a big fan of road rash, so I think you know my choice.

Whoa look at the time. Did I just write all of that? I swear if you pop up in my dreams pregnant, I'm leaving the blogosphere.

Just keepin' it real here

Trimama out!

Buck Naked Boy has a girlfriend

Which explains why, at 6 am, I am cutting a PB & J into four equal squares for his lunch. His girlfriend eats her sandwhich that way. And who says the way to a man's heart isn't through his stomach. Of course, Hyphen Girl is all over that.

"BNB has a grrrrrllll friend"

"I do not!" "FYI (yes, he said "F" "Y" "I") she's my "friend" girl, not my "girl friend" heavy emphasis on the hanging quotes.

And so the morning went.

There is a definitive chill in the morning air, so we took the scenic route to school. Lovely fall color and shimmering dew.

Note to self, bring the chamois butter in from the car overnight. Face it girls, there is nothing so disquieting as frozen butt butter in the nether regions.

I have a 1:40 ride today with a 55 minute run afterward. Couldn't pick a better day, it's bluebird fresh and sunny. Poor me, having to go out and train in it. Gosh I love being a "stay at home" mom. Heavy emphasis on the hanging quotes

Trimama out!

The end of all things, oh I seriously doubt it

There is a trustworthy saying that at the end of all times daughters will rise up against mothers (and there's something in there about nation against nation etc). What this prophetic insight failed to mention is that the source of this apocryphal rebellion will be Fashion T.V.

"Mom, I need to borrow a shirt." quipped Hyphen Girl as she sauntered into my room and began going through my dresser.

Now, the fact that she who owns more clothes then Imelda Marcos piqued my curiosity as to why she was looking for a shirt in my room. Oh, that's right, I need to do laundry.

"Race shirt, race shirt, race shirt" she intoned as she pulled article after article from my drawers (dumping them on the floor of course) There's nothing here but race shirts. Mom, all you have is race shirts.

That's not true, you can wear... oh wait I'm wearing that one.

Ok, it's true. Sad. But true. I have no clothes. Well, almost no clothes. Essentially I can put my entire non training, non work wardrobe into a paper grocery bag. That of course, is if you exclude my new line of Hefty fashion.

And here is why.

1) There are four members of the Tribe. That means 4 tuitions to private school, 4 winter, spring, summer and fall wardrobes, 4 piles of medical bills, 4 mouths to feed etc. you get the picture.

2) Trimama is an incompetent shopper. The closest thing I get to "couture" is when the Macy's ramp is full and I have to park at Nordstrom's en route to Lego Land. I like shopping in the sense of looking around and window shopping, but I am easily overwhelmed when it comes to selection. I gravitate to comfort, Trihubby gravitates to Victoria's Secret. Well, that's not entirely true. Everything I own of class or style Trihubby selected. The man knows how to shop.


3) In December of 2004 Trimama was a well rounded, "baby fat" laden, holy cow I can't believe I got that big, Trimama. That was 10 sizes ago. Now at a rapidly shrinking 6 going on 4, nothing I owned last year fits. My form fitting yoga pants are baggy, my "skinny" jeans drop to my knees sans belt and I have to roll the waist band over on pretty much every pair of pants I own.

"Mom, you are a disgrace. We need to write to Clinton and Stacy".

That would be Clinton and Stacy of "What Not to Wear" fame.

Clinton and Stacy would say I have no sense of style. And they would be right. I think years of parenting toddlers, fluctuating weight and voluminous psychotherapy sessions that tend to leave you feeling spent and vulnerable combined to make me indifferent to externals like clothing and style. Oh, I feel a massive journal entry formulating, I won't bludgeon you with those details, that's what a therapist is for, but suffice to say, when the game is about survival, what you wear is secondary.

Allow me to just say this, yesterday I swam 2.5 miles and today I biked 84 miles. Ironman training is tiring and at times painful. Mental fatigue and pain tend to focus my mind on my healing process, which is good. By God's grace, this endurance training is a powerful forge, with a fire intent on purging dross, and sifting out the dross just makes for stronger more beautifully refined metal.

But I digress. I need to find a sense of style. One that is not founded on spandex and lycra. Trihubby texted me this afternoon when I was biking to say that "skinny, black, pants" are back in at The Gap. I hear shopping!

I need help though. Anyone want to be a personal shopper? Or at least lend a bit of advice. Trimama is ready for some style.

And who knows, we may stave off the end of the world for a few years yet.

So yea, stripping is fun

So is cheering!




and the most fun is catching, especially when it's a Trisaratops!

What a fantastic race!

Trihubby and I had an incredible day that began at 5 AM heading down to Monona Terrace by six to watch the athletes assemble. We scanned the crowd for familiar faces and were warmly rewarded with a huge hug from Trisaratops and Iron Wil. The athletes will tell their own stories, this was their race and we were thrilled to be along for the ride. Stripping duty began at 7 am, shortly after the canon sounded the start. 2400 or so athletes churning the water for 2.4 miles. Two women, including Andrea Fischer bested the men by several minutes and were first out of the water. Contrast that with the sorry people hyperventilating in the ambulance only minutes into the race. A rep from Ironman North America told us some people just freak out and quit, that would be so tough.

We met up with Greyhound, who was just a great guy to hang around with- (what else can you say about a man who goes hunting for hot coffee and food for you in a sea of people-heart as big as his homestate) and headed out to Verona to watch the bikers come through on their first loop. By this time it was raining off and on, everything from sprinkles to full on rain. The wind was gusty, but not as bad as it could be, on the whole, everyone looked cold and cautious.



We reported to our run aid station, where I invented a full line of clothing made entirely of green Hefty bags. Watch for the debut on the runway next spring. Trihubby was not so enthused by my sense of style, but that didn't stop him from huddling with me and Hefty trying to get warm.

"You left The Tribe at home?" a voice soaked with indignation. (well that could have been the onset of hypothermia talking)

And it was The Silent Fury himself, Walcka.

It is so great to meet our fellow bloggers, even if you think the most handsome "Fury" can't possibly be the guy from the blog because blog guy has blonde hair.

Mike's a nice guy who took it all in stride, mostly because I reminded him that I am the one who glued their helmet to their hand.

For the record, we left The Tribe at home because we knew it would be a long day, and face it, sometimes you just need a little mommy/daddy time.

Around 3:30 we headed back down the run path cheering for friends, watching for Iron Wil and Sara. Chris came through the aid station looking strong with a classic Chris smile, he is so fun to see on the course, because on the way to a stellar finish, he has you convinced that he's merely crawling along. The guy is an animal! A courageous, friendly animal.

A brief stop at Starbucks, trading places at the finish line, and posting, throwing every prayer I know behind Sara and Wil who were still out on the bike course. IM live is slow updating, so for a brief moment we thought they hadn't made the cutoff, but then the site caught up with reality, and they were off and running. Trihubby met up with Wil and ran her to the first water stop, what a smile!

Greyhound used his influence and got us into the finish shoot, so we spent the next several hours "catching" and escorting finishers through the medals/pictures/timing chip process. The first time I met RunbubbaRun was as he came through the finish with his wife and adorable daughter. That one made me cry. Not that you would notice, because by now the rain was unrelenting.

We broke for dinner, toasting our friends courage and strength with tequila and scotch (ok, we had to warm up somehow) and returned to the finish line, waiting for Sara and Wil.

Then out of the drizzle and fog came

"Sara Z, you are an Ironman!" and there was Trisaratops, glowing with excitement.

A little after 11, we got the sad news that there was a half marathon cut off time and that Wil hadn't made it, so sad.

We said good night to Fury and Greyhound, each leaving exhausted but thrilled with the activity of the day.



But then morning came and it was time to reload the ironman canon: Meeting up with Bubba, Simply Stu, Iron Wil, Greyhound, we processed through for Ironman Wisconsin '07.

As of now, the burden of Ironman will be on Trihubby's shoulders, as it just doesn't seem wise to have two parents training for a super difficult race at the same time. But Simply Stu assured me, there is always room for a Trimama on the IMmoo '07 team,

even if it is just stripping you all!

Trimama signing off.

They made it!!!! With mins to spare

They Made It!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

This bike course was nasty but Sara and Iron Wil made it with minutes to spare--I mean it, 2 mins to spare!!! But they are running now!!!!!!




Chris should be an ironman within a hour or so!

It's Cold, it's rainy and it's awesome!!!!!!!!

Greyhound, Trihubby, Walchka and Trimama reporting live from Ironman Madison!

Iron Wil and Trisaratops were in fine form on the swim, but wish them well-the bike course is rainy and slow and with 22 minutes to bike time out they haven't crossed out to the run- They'll make it though!

Greyhound is catching at the finish line, and we stripped our hearts out this morning- Iron Wil had one word of the swim,

Fabulous!

Chivarly Chris passed the dreaded finish line/turn around point about 10 mins ago-looking strong!

We are stationed at mile 13/finish line to keep you posted

Cheering on at IMmoo

Trihubby and I are just packing up a few final things, then we leave for Mad City in the morning. We plan to live blog with pictures throughout the day Sat night and Sunday. So, if the blogspot stars align, we should have live pics of Iron Wil, Trisaratops, Chivalry Chris and the rest of blogland-can't promise pulizter quality pics, but you'll get the picture (I think :-@)

Happy weekend all, and total thanks to Iron Shelley for the great info on Iron Training.

Swimming/Training question?

I was glancing at my training plan for the remaining weeks leading to IMFL and I'm seeing a lot of swim yards. A lot being 3-4 swims per week at 3000-4500 a crack. That seems like a lot of swim yardage to me, especially since the biking distance is a sparse 5-9 hours per week. There are 2 five hour rides and 1 six hour ride, with no run off, and then a smattering of 1 to 2 hour bikes. There are 4 long runs, and 2 or 3 hour runs per week. My inclination is that I need more bike rides, and bike/run workouts in the 2-3 hour bike, hour run range. The swim is no problem-I'm ready with the yardage, and it's the smallest part of the day. The bike course, advertised as "flat" still has a couple climbs and rolls, and obviously that constitutes the bulk of the day.

What do you Ironman veterans think?

Last year at this time,

The Tribe started school today, sigh. It's funny how you can get so busy counting down days you hardly notice they are passing by. In a sense we were all ready to get back to structure, but like all things, you really tend to miss them most when they are gone. I love summer. I always think I'll like a clean house with The Tribe around less, but a clean house is just that. It's not giggles and hugs and bugs and bruises, fights and experiments, dirt and playing soccer with a water melon on the living room floor. (they almost broke me on that one-especially since the watermelon splitting didn't stop the game-it just made it even)

Hyphen Girl wanted her hair curled for the first day of class, so I sat this morning with the curling iron, forming ringlets in my teenagers hair, wistfully thinking how I hadn't done this since she was a five year old cutie with natural curls and a penchant for twisting them into knots that could only be removed with scissors, and therefore needed the help of a curling iron to get each of the "strands" to curl with it's neighbors. Now instead of, "are we done yet" and "sit still I don't want to burn you", it's a cyclone of converstion that whirls around boys and friends, classes and "Lost" (our recent media addiciton) and clothes and soccer.

"Aaahh, does it get any better than having your hair done?"

Not for me, not on this day.

And I realized that no matter how I get myself ready emotionally for this day, it just tugs at your heart to watch you kids grow older. So, they all posed on the front porch for the annual first day pic, and then piled into the car, two forgetting their lunches on the dining room floor, and we carpooled off to school.

HG is dropped first, I walked her upstairs and it was all I could do to keep from admonishing her teacher to take good care of her this year. She will, and I know this, but that's my baby there.

Then it's over to the elementary campus to drop the reluctant Soapinator and the "Oh Yea!" "School's here" SLJ.
Buck Naked Boy starts class tomorrow, and he.....can't......wait......!!!!! SLJ and I organized his desk, which of course made me feel better (he still needs his mom's help a little) and we were off. I encountered a cluster of teary eyed moms on the way out, so we went to breakfast and commiserated over latte's. I chatted with a running friend I hadn't seen over the summer and we made plans to run Friday.

Last year at this time I was thinking that, next year at this time I might be staring down the short end of a training schedule enroute to an Ironman race. Next year at this time when we go to IMmoo, it will be to watch some amazing blog friends compete, and it will be different. Next year at this time leaving the kids at school won't be so strange because I will have a larger goal to focus on. Last year I was only partly right. I do have a lot of training to tackle. I do have 18 hours a week with no little Tribettes around in which to accomplish that training.

It was still strange. Always will be I suspect.

Because while being an Ironman is a goal for this year, being a mom is forever.

There's no doubt about it, Ironman is special

It's why finishers tatoo their bodies with an Mdot, when previously they might never have been inked. The experience imprints itself upon your life indelibly. If I were to quit today, (no chance-ever!) I would be content in how this experience has changed my life. It has been a tool of perspective and of focus. It has wrought discipline and tenacity, and yes, the ability to dream again. Now the fine folks at Race athlete have put together an IMmoo '07 team including Iron Wil, Kahuna, Bolder, Simply Stu, Roman and Brett the Zenmaster (is it me or are we missing some estrogen here? I mean Iron Wil is going to need someone to chat with in the locker room). They have sponsers and coaches and schwag- a serious mountain of schwag. But as an old Proverb says, when you sit to dine with a ruler, note well what is before you, and put a knife to your throat if you are given to greed, for that food is deceptive. In other words, Ironman is hard. The training hours are long and at times painful. You sacrifice much. And I guarantee you will curse that schwag before it's over if that is all it is about. (of course for me it's pretty much the High Altitude training camp at Bolder's for a week-but I digress)
You don't want to play with this fire if all you can muster is a "maybe" on a t shirt. This team isn't looking for welfare mentality athletes. They don't want "I play when I want to" moss mucking up their cogs. This team is about representing. It's about living under a microscope for a year. It is virtual reality t.v., Ironman style. It's about being willing to fight to be more, and being willing to train hard. It's about giving to the team everything you've got. and more.

Dang if it's not all worth it in the end.

It's well worth the ride, I'd just say make sure you've counted the price of admission before jumping into the ring.

Ok, lecture over-and I'm not even part of the selection committee.

A long overdue training note:

Biked 65 hilly miles Sunday at 17.9 avs (oh 18 why do you torment me so?!)
Swam 4000 yards weds (first time ever at this distance-just had to know I could) 1 hour 17 mins
and some other less consequential running and biking.

3 hour ride today, 2 hour run Sat, Sunday rest-of course

Happy training all