I realize this goes against the entire concept of a blog...

...but this is actually pretty funny.

It is funny, because we all probably know "that guy" (or girl to be fair) that totally does it. And I think to a certain degree we all do this on our blogs, right? But if we all ONLY talked about it all day long forever and ever and ever...man, we'd be boring peeps, yo.

It kinda made me think how my blog, although I try to keep as honest and real as possible, is really only a small chunk of me. Perhaps it's this whole yin-yang of an introvert/extrovert thing I've got going on. Most people think I am quite extroverted upon meeting me, but only a choice few know me very well. I do admire those who can truly blog about EVERYTHING. Cuz that is so not me.

Anyway, thought it would be good for a chuckle, no? Now get out there and RUN. But for cryin' out loud, please talk about other things too, K?

:)

Here's a topic I love: ENCHILADAS. MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMENCHILADAS. Got to share it with the family on Sunday, and this included Bug's First Sombrero Experience.
Time to go (attempt) to burn off those calories...!

July 5, 1984

What the Red Ryder BB Gun was to Ralphie, so was the Thriller Tape to 7 year old me.

It remains one of my most memorable and favorite birthday gifts ever.

Kickin' it old school and toothless,

TST

Somewhere, a cracked out mouse is RUNNING

So I just went downstairs to get my stuff ready for tomorrow's brick, and lo and behold.....

A FREAKING MOUSE GOT INTO MY BENTO BOX.

And apparently has a thing for Chocolate Gu. Not so much the Apple Cinnamon Hammer Gel, which is rather surprising.

LITTLE REMNANTS OF CHOCOLATE GU PACK EVERYWHERE.

Arg!

Somewhere, there is a mouse running a marathon now and setting a PR...

Summah Summah Summah TY-YIIIIIIME....

Waving to all his fans on the Tour de France...

So much to do, so little time to blog!

Lovin' this summer thing, yo.

Had my 10 Year College Reunion at Miami last weekend. Seriously...how did that happen? We had a blast and generally acted like idiots for 48 hours...which is pretty much how we acted from the ages of 18-22. Or arguably, still act. Which was super awesome.


Bug started his first swim lessons this week, and although he's a bit young to follow really structured directions, we did blow bubbles today. Which is what I call a BIG STEP! And his favorite part of class is to hunt for "buried treasure," which are nickels in the zero-depth area. He's getting braver every time, and I'm so proud of my little fishy!

I've been working with my bro TriEric and his wife Aimee to try to really amp up the involvement in Evotri2: Tomorrow's Triathletes, Today. That's what I'm calling my Battle of the Schools. The weather hasn't been cooperating, as our first brick was thunderstormed out on Friday (BOOOOOOOOOO) but things look great weather-wise for the next week of workouts or so. We just need to keep those thunderstorms at the APPROPRIATE TIME, YOU HEAR ME MOTHER NATURE? Yeah, I said it.

Anyways, to see what is going on there, check out the blog I put together for the kids here. We've got over 30 kids expressing interest, but of course work and summer vacay always gets in the way. If we had 10 kids actually make it all the way to the starting line, I'd be really pumped! I am just excited to have another school on board this year, too. So as soon as I have some pictures to post, I will!

SUPER stoked for WIBA this weekend--old buddies, can't wait to see ya again! And can't wait to meet some new friends, too! I'm sure we'll have about a gazillionbilliontrillion pics to post next week. Giddyup!

Pencils Down

My life is measured in school years. And another one has just closed.

There's a certain familiarity to it; predictability and routine, but also never the same day twice. Never the same student twice. This, I think, is part of the reason I love what I do. Every year, I walk out of a clean classroom--all the posters taken down, the secret initials written in chalk on my board by kids who think I'll never find 'em, the scantrons in the recycle bin, and the students gone. Just me, and 31 empty desks.

Pencils down.

I always get a teensy bit sad--actually, I don't think sad's the way to describe it...wistful, maybe?--when I walk out of that room the last time every June-whateverth, because I know I'm another year older. Another year has gone by, and I'm that much different than I was when I walked in there.

But there's something magical about an empty classroom. It just begs to be filled. And I know when I lock the door for the last time that I'll unlock it and enter in August even more older, and hopefully wiser. Under different circumstances. Still teaching about the Enlightenment and the Gilded Age and the Cold War, but hopefully not the same lessons. And definitely not to the same audience.

I've now been teaching almost one third of my entire life, which is hard to believe. Next weekend I'm heading down to Miami for my ten-year reunion. Where my school year ended, and I packed everything up, and I said goodbye to my good friends that last day after the caps and gowns were put away and the cheap beer had been tapped out, and drove away. And then--only then--I cried. I knew it was the end of something, and I just didn't know what was next. I was afraid that the quote "best four years of your life" end quote were over. What could be better than that?

The good news is what was next has been even more amazing than my four years there. I didn't know it then, but I can appreciate that now, as I'm knocking on the door to 32 years old and walking out of my tenth school year as a teacher.

Yesterday I ran a new loop, which is different for me. As stated before, I enjoy routine. I like the same patterns. I like to know where I am, at what time, and how that compares to last run. So for me to branch out and try a new loop was definitely different. And, here's the kicker--I didn't even take the Garmin. Type-A TST put it away and just ran for fun. Such will be my runs for a while here, as I am in definite need of a break. I have some pretty lofty goals in mind, but I need a bit of time here to recharge the batteries.

I'm reading Dara Torres' biography right now, which seriously is making me want to swim every. single. second. I can, because it reminds me of when I used to watch swimming as a kid. I LIVED for the Summer Olympics. I remember watching in on our TV in our old house--the '88 Olympics, on my parent's small TV in their bedroom. I grew up worshiping the likes of Dara Torres and Summer Sanders. I loved to swim, and am well aware that I never met my full potential in that sport. Just when I needed to step it up a notch and swim year-round--right around, oh, age 12-13 or so--along came band and cheerleading and softball and boys and all the other reasons why I didn't want to stare at a black line for hours on end. I don't really regret it, since I think about all the things I got to experience instead. But I've accepted that I never got to see how far I'd go in that sport. Conversely, I'm on an absolute thrill-ride seeing how far I've come in a sport I NEVER thought I'd enjoy--running. So it all evens out, I think, in the end.

I'm only halfway through, but I love DT even more now that I'm reading this book. I think I can really identify with her in a lot of ways. Not in the 24 second 50 meter way. (In my dreams....) But check this out....sound familiar?

"One thing I learned from being a pregnant athlete and then an athlete-mom is that when it comes to women, sports, and child-bearing, often people's first reaction is to say, "No you can't." You can't do those exercises. You can't go that fast. You can't win that race. But most of the time that negativity is not based on fact. It's based on ignorance or fear. So I chose to do my own research. I wanted to learn what my own body could take." --page 71

Well played, DT. Well played indeed.

Here's another one I like:

"...other people were constantly insinuating that age did matter, that even at 33 I was too old to compete. "Don't you feel terrible in the water?" people would ask. "You know, being so old and out of the water for so many years?" Questions like that really bothered me until I realized they had very little to do with me. Our whole culture is so terrified of growing older, so sure that life goes to hell progressively once you pass 25 or 30 or 35--whatever number people have stuck on their heads. But I came to see such negativity as a reflection of other people's fears about life, a window into the ways in which so many of us are limiting ourselves and selling ousrselves short. I decided, back then, not to live that way." --page 109

I know now that the best is yet to come. I've been so lucky and blessed so far, in racing but really just in life in general, and it's easy to get stuck in the routine and enter another age group and feel like, "That's it...the good times/races/days are over." But that, my friends, is total bull. One day, I'm going to qualify for the Boston Marathon. One day, I might even become the swimmer I could have been 20 years ago. Or one day, maybe I'll even hit a home run over the fence. (My one and only lonely home run on record was inside the park.) Who knows? I don't know what I'm doing next week...or certainly next school year.

But I know one thing for sure: I am not going to slow down.

Extra protein with a side order of gills

The end of school is almost upon me, and I have about 3.7 nanoseconds to breathe and post, so I thought I'd update you on what I've been up to since kickin' it at the Cleveland Half Marathon three weeks ago!

It's midgie aka "Canadian Soldier" season here in the NEO.

They look like skeeters, but don't bite and don't live more than 24 hours. They are just here to swarm black clouds and become fishy food for Lake Erie. I hate to complain about 'em, because they are a sign of a healthy Lake Erie. However, they swarm in nasty black clouds and you can even HERE THE BUZZING in the evening of said clouds. If I hadn't lived hear Lake Erie most of my life, I'd be seriously freaked out. They're not quite as bad as this picture, but you get the point..

See, they are good for something! A-ha, Stupid Yankees. :)

So why, then, did I think it would be a good idea to do a ride on Route 2 during Midgie season?

Mmmmmmmmmmmmmmm. Bugs. TASTEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE.

Also, I decided to act like a triathlete and actually swim.

Do you know how many times I've been in the pool since IM New Orleans 70.3?

In honor of freshman final exams, I'll give you a multiple choice question:

A. ONCE.
B. FORTY-TWO THOUSAND FIVE HUNDRED AND SIXTY SEVEN.
C. NINETY TWO.
D. ALL OF THE ABOVE.

Yes, friends...it is sadly ONCE. So I knew I had it coming for me when I got in the 25 meter outdoor pool on Saturday. I was literally afraid to start swimming! My mush-tastic arms didn't know what was about to hit them.

I did 2000 meters (slowly and out of breath) and it took me just over 31 minuts to swim a mile, which normally is HORRID for me, but all things considered I was okay with that. Now that I have access to a pool from 6am until 9pm, there are NO EXCUSES for me not to hit it at least 3-4 times a week. Bring back my gills, please!

So if you want a non-traditional protein shake made with midgies, just let me know. Otherwise, I need to get ready to hang on those Wisconsin Hills at WIBA--giddyup!

Race Report: Cleveland Half Marathon 2009

Well, no pics of me yet, so you'll just have to hear me ramble. :)

Anyway, let me first say a huge shout out to all my Second Sole and CTC peeps who ran yesterday. I've run this race (half and full) several times and I think despite it having several bugs (like, um, THE FREAKING PACE CAR FOR THE 10K GOING THE WRONG WAY THREE YEARS AGO) it IS getting better. And I really do want my hometown race (which is 32 years old!) to do well, ya know? This year the atmosphere was awesome. You could tell they had really worked to embrace the Rock and Roll theme, and it showed. The course was full of spectators for most of the way which was nice. It's come a long way since I hobbled down a lonely, uninviting path and had to beg for a finisher's medal in my 5:14 marathon back in 2002.

Also, a HUGE shout out and thank you to Coach Emily. She's been amazing and knows just how hard to push me so I don't pansy out, while at the same time understanding my crazy insane time constraints. Thanks for everything! :)

So my super goal was 1:45. This was the upper limit of what I knew was possible, given that I'm 6 weeks past New Orleans and didn't really get many long runs in. My speed's been kickin', but I wasn't sure how my endurance would be or just how long I could hang on for dear life. So the plan was to go with the 3:30 pace group and hang as long as I could.

Race day was COLD (44 degrees) and clear skies. Which means PERFECTPERFECTPERFECT! for me. The poor guy next to me at the start line was from South Carolina and was shivering as I stood in my tank top and shorts. He asked me if I was crazy and/or cold. I told him, no...see...this is what I call KARMA from New Orleans! I put in my suffering death march down in the Big Easy. Now it's time for this YANKEE to kick some booo-tay in the cold!

The gun went off and I just KNEW it was going to be a good day. I knew even before then, actually. I knew I would PR (my previous PR was 1:50.06 from last year), and it was just a matter of how much.

I'll let my mile splits tell the story...

1--8:14.

Kinda crowded and crazy, but felt nice and easy. We ran down by the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame and around Cleveland Browns Stadium.

An evening shot of the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame.

We got a nice little climb back into town and then ran down all the fun little establishments on West 6th in the Warehouse District where I used to cause trouble on a weekly basis. It was a beautiful, clear, sunny morning, and after about 3 blocks I was nice and warm like I knew I would be. Today was going to be a good day; I just knew it.

You can see where we ran around the stadium and back up to the city here. Oh Browns...so much to say. There's always next...decade?

2--7:55.

My mind's jaw dropped a bit--I guess I didn't expect to see any sevens, which is crazy when you're going for an 8 minute/mile pace. Did I think I'd be all 8s? Still, it felt a little scary for me to flirt with disaster at a pace that used to be just a few seconds slower than my 5K pace. We ran by Jacobs Field (or Progressive Field--whatever. Still the Jake.) and The Q, where Game One starts again Wednesday. I was feeling good.

All hail the King.

3--7:48.

Are you SERIALLZZ?

4--7:53.

At this point, I realized I just beat my previous 4 mile PR of 32.11. Nice!

5--8:04.

Okay. Seeing an 8 made me feel a bit more at ease and a little less like I was walking a tightrope over a swirling pool full of ill-tempered sea bass. Broke 40 minutes and another PR of 40:02, my previous best at 5 miles.

6-- 8:01.

Hit the 10K in 49:40, which beat my previous record of 51:30 that I set in this very race last year. As an aside, I wonder what I could do in a short race now? At this point, I'm feeling so good that I high five a few kids. The pace felt SLOW. Since when is THIS MY REALITY?! WHO HAS HIJACKED MY BODY?

7--8:04.

Easy-peasy. I could do this shizz all day. We were running through my old neighborhood and Matt's old neighborhood at this point, so I saw all kinds of fun memories on the street corners. Lots of great crowds...it was at this point that I knew I was going to blow 1:50 away. No question. Just a matter of by how much. I couldn't help but wonder how long I could keep this up. Things were just too perfect.

Aaaaaannnnnnndddd....NOW.

8 and 9-- 16:20.

I missed the 9 mile marker, which was totally messing with my brain. I started to struggle just a bit catching up with the pacer after trying to suck down a Gu. My legs started to not respond to my brain quite as well. I knew this was it. Here comes the pain. I watched the pacer slowly creep away and his balloons bounce down the road ahead of me, creeping away slowly. "Run your own race...don't worry about it...one foot in front of the other..." I hoped and prayed my Gu would kick in soon, and I feared the worst at the next mile marker.


10--8:03.

Wait! Okay! I'm OKAY! What felt like 10 was really 8! Now we were turning onto the Shoreway along the lakeshore and I knew this could get hairy. It was a long, steady, gradual climb up the bridges back into the city. Could I do it? The Gu kicked in a little bit, but I could feel it. My legs were slowing down BIG TIME. I started a little mental war in my head. Most of it is not fit to be printed on this nice PG-13 rated blog. Let's just say I was screaming at myself and using lots of words that rhyme with duck and grass and Hall of Famer Mike Schmidt and Ice Road Truckers.


11--9:08.

Oh POOOOOOOOOOOOOOPSANDWICH. That was horrid. And it wasn't over yet, either. We weren't to the top yet. I did everything I could to make my legs keep up with my heart, but I was running out of steam.

12--8:45.

THANK YOU ALMIGHTY. We are at the TOP of the freakin' Shoreway. The guy next to me said, "It's all downhill from here...we're almost there." And I managed a weak smile. We were. I looked at my watch and I knew. 1:50 was gone. Demolished. It was just a matter of how much, and that was still up to me.

13 and .1--8:56.

Finish time: 1:47.06.

A three-minute PR to the second.

Average pace 8:10/mile. 34th/394 in Age Group; 169/2368 females. I left everything I had out there. Nothing, and I mean nothing was left. I've never finished one of these--including a marathon--feeling like nothing was left. I've always held back a bit, so it was painfully fun to see what happens when you go all out and do something crazy risky.

It was sooooooooooo fun.

I got a bit verklempt at the finish line. If Bug and Matt were there, I would have lost it. I knew what this race meant, and I knew what I just capped off.

One solid year of 2 half marathons, 1 olympic distance triathlon, 1 marathon, and 2 half ironmans...ALL PR'S. Every. Single. ONE.


I had many fears when I was pregnant. Mostly having to do with the baby, its health, and my ability to raise it being a clueless person who was never into arts and crafts (seriously--I got a C in 6th grade art. Who gets a C in 6th grade art?! It remains my lowest grade ever to this day); who was completely overwhelmed and intimidated by Parent Magazines full of artsy ways to make a peanut butter sandwich, and who is repulsed by the color pink and felt WAAAAYYYY out of her element at Babies R Us. Then, with a few exceptions, all I seemed to hear when I was pregnant was how much "things would change" and how I'd have to give up "those races" I liked to do. Or how I would need to have "pre-baby PRs." And it petrified me. I knew I just could not sit home and do crafts. No way. That is not me...that has never been me, and I refuse to believe that is what a "good" mother has to be.

It doesn't. I know this now.

I owe everything that I've done in the past 12 months to Matt and to my Bug. Every PR is because of them. We've been very creative in our training and our lives. And we've made it work. Not just work, we've made it spectacular.

I feel like I barely recognize myself anymore.

Here I am now, 31 years old. I've been writing here for almost four years. And at this point, I can truly say that my life is full of more joy than I ever could imagine. It's busy and crazy, and I don't make three-tiered forts out of Cheerios or even really read the parenting magazines. But we laugh and smile all day, and this home is full of so much joy.

And I can race. Faster than I ever could before; faster than I ever thought I would. And I'm not done yet.

Not even close.