The Past Two Weeks

I had a really funny post all ready to type up on January 2nd, about how I jumped in frozen Lake Erie with a bunch of my equally crazy friends. I literally was going to sit down and create it. And then I checked the answering machine.

I heard two messages both with the same words: "tragedy," and "student."

We lost a student to suicide on January 2nd. It has been a very, very difficult two weeks. I've held it together at school for the most part, and then just melted down when I get home. This happened in my school six years ago, too. I'm finding it's a whole new dynamic this time around, now that I have a little boy of my own. I can't even imagine the grief that this family must be going through. It has kept me up at night. It has me breaking down crying while I'm trying to make dinner or give Emery a bath. Several times last week, it had me run upstairs to my room to slam the door shut so I could just sit in the dark and cry for a minute. Partially because I was angry, and partially because I was so, so saddened.

This week was better. The students seemed better, too. The rest of the school year will not be the same, but each day gets a little easier to walk by that locker or for the students to see the empty chair in their classroom.

Needless to say, I haven't had much time to write anything training-related as I just haven't been myself here the past two weeks. I've been running and biking like crazy, but also running myself into the ground a bit as the lack of sleep thing catches up with me by about Thursday. Hopefully that will subside any day now.

In the meantime, I thought I'd share something I posted on my blog for Bug. At the wake, I walked by all the pictures of Micah as a little boy, with his brothers and sisters and parents. And it reminded me that we all start out this way--with chubby cheeks and a big smile. Every student has that inside somewhere. My heart still hurts for his family as they deal with the loss of their little boy.

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I know that the days of you calling me "Mama" are numbered, Bug.

This week, we registered you for preschool.

Two weeks ago, we finally moved you into your "big boy bed."

Dare I say it...? Potty training seems to be almost done.

But you still call me "Mama." And I love it more than you know. I want to bottle it up and record it and play it over and over again when you are bigger than me...when you are in Middle School and want nothing to do with me...and when, inevitably, someday you are upset with me because I'm telling you that you can't do something you want to do.

(I mean, I do that now, too. But when you're screaming and throwing a fit, you still scream, "NO I DON'T WANNA DO THAT RIGHT NOW MAMA!" Still "Mama," see? Even in a meltdown, it melts me.)

Tonight I was the one to put you to bed, which I've kind of been loving lately. Even though it takes about 18 hours to get you to put on your PJ's, go upstairs, brush your teeth, and actually LAY DOWN FOR CRYING OUT LOUD, eventually we get to the point where you say, "I just want you to lay with me a little bit Mama" and, of course, I do. Immediately.

Usually we read a book or two. You always pick this really annoying Power Rangers book full of made-up words. I tried to BS my way through it tonight and you caught me. I was skimming and just describing the characters on a page that they had their ridiculous introductions with made up words, and you said, "No, Mama, you didn't say that the red guy's name was NICK."

And wouldn't you know it? On that very page, Nick the Red Mystic Power Ranger introduced himself.

Busted.

Anyway, I read most of the book despite my futile attempts to outsmart you, and then it was time for me to go. But you begged me to stay a bit more. So I did.

After about a minute, you put your arm around me and said, "I love you, Mama."

And I can't help it--anytime I hear you say that, it makes me immediately tear up. But you went one step further.

"Thank you, Mama."

I told you thank you for being a sweet Bug. You sighed and closed your eyes and then said it again.

"I love you, Mama. Thank you, Mama."

Waterworks.

And then you said it one last time.

"I love you, Mama. Thank you, Mama."

Then you said the phrase we always say when we're trying to get YOU to go to sleep:

"You need your sleep so we can play tomorrow, Mama."

And with that, I kissed your cheek, told you I loved you to the moon and back, and tried not to bawl as I tiptoed to your door to slowly shut it while you snuggled with your monkey and blanket.

These moments are passing too fast. You bring me such joy and I can't even begin to put it into words.

Thank you, Bugaboo.

I love you,

Mama

Race Report: Rev3 Cedar Point 70.3

9/15 UPDATE: Just checked the results again, and my swim and finish times are different, in a good way! Not sure what happened, as that's what I get for racing without a watch. But I'll take it. So now it's a 16 minute PR...even better. :)

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The short: I PR'd, by 16 minutes. I'm still in awe, I love my family more than anything, and my teammates are the biggest rockstars EVER.

If you want to keep reading, here's the long version. You know I like to ramble. Don't say I didn't warn you. ;)

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At our team meeting, a paper was sent around. For us to put our estimated times. It was just so Wil and Steve could know when we'd exit, so they could get pictures. But I really didn't want to write my times on there.

I still felt like I didn't really deserve to be there.

What business did I have being there? Who was I kidding? I still have a backpack on. It's smaller, but it's there. I'm not sure how much, because I was afraid to know before the race. Ignorance is bliss, right? Regardless, I hadn't run more than 9 miles in training. Most of my rides were no longer than 50 miles. I was lucky to get to the pool twice a week, and lately, it's been more like once.

I didn't feel like I was really in half-ironman shape. I know I trained a lot, especially given the circumstance. But I didn't train as much as I would have before.

What do I write on this paper?

That I might crash and burn? Admitting that was just something I didn't want to do.

My best race ever would have been Steelhead, but since it was turned into a du and the bike was a little short, I really don't know. So I guess my best was officially New Orleans, which really didn't feel that great. And it was a 6:00.42. I know that, because I remember cursing those 42 stupid seconds.

Go hard or go home. Maybe if I wrote it on the paper, it would come true.

Swim: 40 minutes. Because I always seem to come out around then, even though I should be a good deal faster. Most of that is my fault. I know I can just wing it, and I sort of do. And I just pulled my wetsuit out of the garage for the first time since....wait for it...NEW ORLEANS 70.3 IN APRIL OF 2009. I didn't even know if it would fit me. That might be the dumbest thing ever.

Ride: 2:50. That was pie in the sky, since Steelhead was a 2:45 but it was a little short. The wind would be bad tomorrow, and I knew that was aiming high.

Run: 2:00. I've never gone 2 in a half ironman. I think the best I have is 2:03. I felt REALLY dumb writing that, given I hadn't ran more than 9 miles. Who was I kidding?

Factoring in what I knew would be super slow transitions, and I was writing down that I hoped to go 5:35.

I then came to my senses and realized how stupid that was, so I put a big question mark and wrote "NO CLUE." Because I felt like an idiot saying I would be attempting to do anything UNDER 6 hours. But I was afraid to admit that I couldn't. I know what I'm capable of, if I was at race weight and had put in the miles, and it would be lower than that. But I'm not, and I hadn't. So even 5:35 seemed absolutely ridiculous. Like I was suggesting that I could turn Chuck Norris into a ham sandwich by hopping on one foot and casting a magic spell. That kind of ridiculous.

I passed the paper on.
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That night on the way to an awesome dinner with my teammates, I decided I was going to do what it took to come as close to those numbers as I could. I felt like I really owed it to Matt and my Mom, for all the help they gave me all summer so I could train. I felt like I owed it to myself, to see just what the head and the heart are capable of. Because, I've said it before and I'll say it again, I'm no natural at this. Some can get by on a lot less training that I can and do MUCH better. But I almost cracked a few times training for this race. It was a little more than I could chew six months after having a second baby. So I needed to make all that worth it.

This would be my fifth time at this distance. I just had to come under 6. Even if it was just by a minute, I needed to. I had to make this one count, and I had to go out on a good note. I hoped that my imperfections like my backpack and my lack of as much training as I had hoped to do would be overshadowed by the fact that I just knew I could. That's really all I had going for me. That, and knowing my family was going to be at the finish line.

This race was a true test of my head.
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THE SWIM

I decided I was sick of coming out midpack or worse at the sport I've been doing since I was 2 years old. For crying out LOUD. Seriously. I knew I wasn't in any shape to do what on paper I should do, but I just really was due for a good swim.

I zigzagged all over the place.

I'm pretty sure I swam more than I needed to, since the pack was often WAY to my left. But I just kept thinking, "formformform, pull, reach, PULL" as much as I could. I didn't even have a watch on. I totally swam blind. I managed to catch a bunch of the guys in the wave ahead of me, so I knew at least I wasn't having too bad of a day. I felt like it was a decent swim. Hit the beach and saw Iron Sis Wil, which was super awesome. I got to T1 and the jaw dropped in my brain--there was only one bike gone in my rack. Considering the trek to T1 took a little bit, I figured I must have finally come in under 40 at least. Still nowhere near my best time, but better. A good note to leave on.

Get this: I can't make this up, folks...Time including the run up to the beach?

39:07. Under 40--yahoo! I must have come out around 38. Still not my best, but I did come out 13/39 in AG. I'll take that, for sure.

TI: I'm pretty sure I could have knit a lovely sweater for you in the time I spent in T1, and T2 for that matter. Over FIVE MINUTES. I know. Stupid. But I am so rusty on those--I just never really got time to practice, and getting the wetsuit that I hadn't put on in a year and a half while also putting on arm warmers I hadn't tried to put on wet since Ironman Wisconsin in 2006 was a comedy of errors.

THE BIKE

Of all three disciplines, this is the one I felt the best about. I had a great last long ride that really built up my confidence. I knew I still was carrying around my backpack, but I also knew this race didn't have really any hills to write home about. Hopefully, the backpack wouldn't hold me back too much.

I passed quite a few people, and I noticed a few were in my age group. That always feels good. My heart rate was SUPER high, even by my standards. I tried to just spin easy on the causeway and get it down while getting in some nutrition. I was trying to hold my watts right between 140-150 or so. I knew the wind would make things tough, but I knew the tailwinds would hopefully give me a little back.

True story: somewhere in the middle of the ride a girl pulled up next to me and said, "Have you ever peed on the bike?" WHY YES! I replied. I have! Once, and only once. "Is it faster?" DEFINITELY, I said. I then gave her a few pointers on how to successfully urinate all over yourself while riding. She sincerely thanked me, and we parted ways.

I felt really, really good for most of this ride. There was a part in the middle where I doubted things a bit, but looking back it was just the wind messing with my head. I knew I could still call this a good ride--not my best, but given the wind I was happy to see what the Joule said when I got back to T2.

Here's the Joule's stats:
Ride time: 2:57.43
Miles: 56.32
KJ 1477
Temp: 68 F
Avg Watts: 138
Avg Cadence: 97
Avg MPH: 19.0
Avg HR: 169 (that's actually low for me--I have the heart of a hummingbird)
Max Watts: 511
Normalized Power: 148 (Very happy with that--basically hit my goal dead-on!)

The race results say basically the same thing, except that I'm an idiot and can't figure out their splits. One thing is for certain, though--I moved up to 8th in my age group. BOO-yah.

T2: Seriously. What is wrong with me? I read War and Peace, baked a batch of cookies from scratch, and then apparently decided to start running.

THE RUN

So I just got my Garmin out now to look at the splits. I really hadn't even done that yet! That's not like me. And I kinda LIKE it. :)

Anyway, I started running and felt surprisingly good. I've been running well lately, even if it hasn't been that many miles. I knew I'd be good for 8 miles for sure. After that, well...it was going to hurt. I knew that, and I accepted that.

Right about a half mile into it, I met my running buddy for the day, Randy. Randy is pretty much awesome. We realized we had the same goals--we were both going to try to hold 9s. So we set off on our quest for 9 minute miles.

Everything was going fine for a while--a little too fast at first, even though I felt fabulous. I knew that might hit me later, and it did.

Randy and I talked about our kids (he has twin two year old boys! I gave him BIG UPS. That's gotta be busy!), jobs, the wind, and when I couldn't talk anymore I apologized and told him that I'd reply with one-word answers. We zig-zagged all around Sandusky. Around mile 5, I saw the Jackson Street Pier, which was a nice little boost. I thought of Jackson at the finish line--they were probably there by now.

It started to get hard around mile 8 or so. The wind sucked the life outta me at parts, but then we'd turn a corner and get a little relief. At this point, we were on pace for a 1:57 or so, and I was in a bit of shock. However, I could literally feel my legs filling up with lactic acid...they were getting SO heavy. I kept telling Randy to leave me, but he wouldn't. He kept me from walking, and I'm really thankful for that. Once I started walking, I was sure I wouldn't stop. I had done the math in my head. I didn't know by how much, but I knew I'd probably come in under 6. That kept me shuffling a little faster than I would have otherwise.

The last 5K was a full-out suffer fest for me. Looking back at my splits, what felt like 12 minute miles were really high 9s/low 10s. It could have been worse, I know, but it really, really hurt. I was ready for it, though. The Causeway was beautiful, but windy as hell, and I realized that I was about to run out of steam. The only thing keeping me moving at that point was knowing Jackson, Emery, and Matt would be at the finish line. That was IT.

In the parking lot of Cedar Point, the wind was INSANE and I might have said loudly, "F THIS WIND!" except not just with a letter. And then I apologized. Because poor Randy didn't even know me and I really shouldn't be dropping F bombs like that. But he didn't seem to care.

I told him to GO and finish strong, and we thanked each other. Randy took off--he had a great kick and totally could have left me, but didn't because he's just a nice guy. Reason #246,831 why I love this sport: good people rock. I eventually thanked him after the race about a million times.

But for now, I headed to the chute.

Christine Lynch of New York, NY, although I don't know you, I have to say, you had a smokin' fast run according to the results, and I give you mad props. However, despite that, any other day and I would have blasted down that chute, and you, my unknown friend, would have eaten my dust. You ran by me in the chute and I let you go, so you technically finished 3 seconds ahead of me. I would have been 8th out of 39 in AG, and 35th out of 267 overall. But I let you go...because of this:

All photo credits to my amazing Mom--thanks so much for being there, Mom!

Nothing can really replace my first Ironman. I won't say that this means more than that. But I will say that this race means just as much. This race showed me just how far your heart can take you. I had no business finishing in the time I did, but somehow, I did. 7 months after Jackson, I ran a half marathon and that was difficult enough. When I crossed this line with Jackson's hand in mine, I truly felt like I could do anything. They make it all worthwhile...all three of them make it all possible.



Total time: 5:44.38 (16 minute PR)
9/39 AG
36/267 Total Females

Somehow, I've gone from barely faster than 7 hours at this distance and decisively back of the pack, to top fourth of my age group and even remotely in the same breath as top 10% of females. And to do this, on this date, given these circumstances, has left me utterly amazed and so happy. I know I can walk away now from this distance for a bit...I still have a lot to learn, for sure, and I'd be lying if I didn't say that since crossing the line yesterday I have wondered what I could do next season with another 15 or so pounds down. But I know that to do this distance the way I want to do it would require time that I just don't want to give right now. I think a year away might do me some good. And I feel comfortable walking away now.

My team is awesome, but that's another post. I am so lucky to be in this group of amazing people, and I can't wait to race with them next summer at our team race. Having them there this weekend was really the icing on the cake.

Overall, this race was quite the experience. I think I'll remember this one forever and ever and ever. And I have decided that if I can take 15 minutes off my 70.3 PR six months after having Emery, then there's no doubt in my mind I can take 18 minutes off my marathon PR next year. So you heard it here first: I will be qualifying for Boston--either in the spring or in the fall.

Thanks to all who have managed to read this far, and to those who have encouraged me through all of this: especially my family, my superawesome Coach Emily, and my teammates. It was a bit of a crazy ride, but somehow, I made it.

And I couldn't be happier.

Coming Back

So I'm getting there, alright.

But not without a few bumps in the road. Like Saturday, when I had an absolute irrational meltdown for Matt about not being able to fit into my jeans perfectly yet. I can get them up and buttoned, but HOLY HADES do I look DISGUSTING with my muffin top. Everything else is fine, just the lovely post-partum muffin top that anyone who's been there understands. And it set me off BIG TIME.

Good thing Matt is a patient guy. He just let me have a good cry and then go for a run. Sometimes that's the best remedy, after all. I mean, for crying out loud. I gained 62 pounds. I'm down quite a bit now, but I need to be realistic here. I'll get there. It's been 8 weeks. CHILL, SELF. That's an order.

This shirt rocks the universe. Preggy swim pal Bridget's husband surprised JenC and I with them after he told us we should get some shirts made when we were running the Reindeer Run back when I was 30 weeks preggers. And the boy delivered. Thanks, Steve! I can't wait to wear my "race t-shirt" as soon as it's a little warmer...and I'm a little smaller. Check the new shoes, too--Brooks finally changed the color! WOOT! That's what I call a comeback outfit.

Speaking of which, had a fantastic run with Bean in the BOB this morning. I found a nice smooth trail and we did 4 miles. Check that pace, yo'. I was in disbelief, but felt great. The Boston Marathon is today, and I thought about how I hope to be there in 2 years...and even though this pace and distance is a far way off, I have to remember that a) I'm 8 weeks postpartum and b) I'm carrying not only a stroller, but a good 28 pounds more than I usually do. So after I had a moment and thought about that, I felt about as good as if I had just run a sub-22 minute 5K.

Patience, patience, patience. I'll be back soon.

19 Months

Dear Jackson,

I'm listening to you drift off and babble now, while your Led Zeppelin lullabies are playing. Today we played outside and you said all kinds of words--like "bubbles" and "go!" and "bugsy" and of course, "Mama." I watched you go down the slide and run around with Mugsy's leash, and it was so much fun...just to watch you.

Sunday I'm running a race. I know it's too early to explain to you why Mommy likes to do this stuff, but mostly because it makes me healthy, Bug--and I want to be around you forever and ever and ever. I like to push myself as hard as I can, and I hope someday you'll see that and maybe think it's a good idea to push yourself, too. Not necessarily in running, but whatever path you choose.

So Sunday is the culmination of 19 months of joy with you in my life. Since you came in my life, I've learned a lot about myself, Little Man. I've learned that I can't handle everything and do it all. I've learned who my real friends are. I've learned that work is just work, and it will be there tomorrow. And I've learned that I can still be me with you--but an even better version of me with you putting your head on my shoulder.

You won't remember the training I did, but I can tell you I did it mostly in the morning or after you went to sleep, because I didn't want to miss one second with you, Bug. Not one second. So consequently, the training was done mostly alone, and not as many workouts as I would have done before I had you. But what I've come to realize is that despite this, I'm even stronger now than I was before. You make me faster, because I run to get home to you. I run faster during my tempo runs and pushes and repeats because I can't wait to hear your giggles. And if that means running by myself for a while, Bug, then that's a tradeoff I'm willing to take. No question.

So Sunday will be the last long race I do in a while. Because of this, I'm going to treat this like it's the last race I'll do in a year. Because, it just might be. I'm going to go as fast as I can and hold onto the pain as long as I can and hopefully hit my goal. And it will cap off the past 19 months which included two half ironman triathlons, an olympic distance triathlon, two half marathons and one full marathon. And you. Most importantly, you and your smiles and giggles.

You're the one who made me faster, because you are the one who rewired my head and my heart and made me believe in myself and the things I create.

I love you,
Mommy

A Perfect Weekend

...despite my little surgery stuff.

Yesterday I rested, and definitely felt the effects of the surgery. I took another long nap, and then took Bug to see the ducks and the Lake with Matt.

Happy Bug.

"Duck!"--Jackson Bug

Coach Emily said I was to run "12 miles about 30 seconds slower than race pace." Two weeks from today is the big show. I was a little nervous after my run last weekend when I wanted to barf from my 4 miles at race pace, but I set out anyway. Matt went mountain biking in the morning so Bug and Mugsy and I had a nice long walk, followed by pushing around a plastic-bubble-making-lawn-mower around the yard. When Matt got home, it was his Bug Time and my time to run.

And it just clicked today.

It was tough at the end, but mostly because it was warming up a bit and I ran out of fluids. I went through 30 ounces and 1 gel during the run--and I could have used at least 6 ounces more so I could have one more gel at the end. But I held my pace and even ran the last one at 8:15.

12 miles. Average pace of 8:20. Pretty evenly split with even a little negative split.

So, one more mile and that would have had me at a PR for a half marathon today. But I focused on good nutrition and stretching, because today is not the day. Today is the last long training run. The day will be in 2 weeks, when I go as close to 8 minute miles as I can for 13.1 miles. Which is risky, but I just have a good feeling about it. It's going to be a good day.

For the rest of my Sunday, I grilled chicken with cranberry-orange sauce, baked potatoes, and made a nice salad. And then Bug, Matt, and I went to play at the park.


I forgot all about the fact that my stitched-up, gaping-wound-filled hair looks like Ethan Hawke's in Before Sunrise. And that this week is going to be INSANE in the MEMBRANE with the AP test Friday. I just got to listen to my little boy giggle on the swings, and it was allllllll good.



So in the words of the great Ice Cube, "I gotta say it was a good day."

So, Thursday I rode in the South of France

Seriously!

Well, kinda.

I did my Thursday night spin class again--these have been ROCKIN' as far as preparing me for New Orleans (which is 3 weeks from tomorrow, kids...yikes). I tell ya what, I never work that hard on my own. No way, Jose. Me in my basement for two hours means spinning and kinda zoning out and that's about it. No matter how hard I try, I just don't duplicate the ridiculous effort that I get on Thursday nights. My watts hit 500 this week! Something about having some friends to suffer with you in a room with great tunes seems to really help me focus.

So we've been having themes lately to mix it up. A few weeks ago was 80s hair night. A few buddies even came with wigs and sequined headbands! Then we did ladies night, and last night was the 6th stage of Paris-Nice complete with a map of the elevation and the "estimated times" we'd reach each climb. Andy, our fearless leader, did a great job of making us feel like we were in the peloton and racing the 182K stage. There were Cat 3 climbs thrown in, too. For this triathlete who has never ever ever done a cycling race before, it was pretty fun! Thanks to the Spin-Second Sole Multisport Team for putting on these great workouts! And, the free beer and good conversation afterwards was the icing on the cake. :)

This weekend, I've got a solid bunch of training sessions to get in. Today, when Bug naps, I'll do a 2 hour ride with a 20 minute runoff. Tomorrow, I'm going to run for 1:30 and then swim 3000 yards when he naps. Three weeks from tomorrow, I'm jumping in Lake Ponchartrain (or however you spell it...my apologies to the lake) for what will be my first open water swim of the season--in a race. Interesting. It is pretty cold today, so it looks like today's spin will be inside unless it warms up by 1 or so. Right now it's sunny and gorgeous but 20 degrees. I totally underestimated how cold it was when I went up to the kids' resale at an area school and braved the crowds to get Bug a sweet tunnel to crawl through for five bucks and an awesome Indians outfit for Opening Day for three bucks!

(Ahhhh, good deals. Me love you long time.)

Anyway, I've almost made it. Things are clicking. I'm really tired, but feeling like I'm getting pretty strong. Been putting in a lot of extra time at school and it paid off for my AP students. They just rocked their last test, and I think they're starting to see that taking this harder class, pushing themselves more than anyone else who's taking the easier US History, and generally suffering more has made them stronger and ready to take on the big test in 32 school days.

So, I'm just going to get through this one workout at a time, one session at a time...and pretty soon it will be time to pack up my bike and get this party started.

Gotta go crawl through a tunnel in my basement now! ;)

Sharing Winter

I love sharing winter days with my boys.

One Year Later

...and I love them more every day.

Happy Birthday, Little Bug!

Two weeks until Columbus...and I'm gonna make this one count. Big time. :)

There's something especially fun...

...about chicking a dude running while I'm pushing a baby stroller.

;)

One Week In

I just lost my class for a meeting, so I'm sitting and just taking a breather.

Whew.

Figured I might as well throw a post up to state that I made it...one week down, one good solid week of workouts in for the next race, and so far, so good!

I'm not used to standing, talking a lot, or wearing anything other than flip flops, so me poor widdwle toes are quite blistered. And I have not much of a voice left. But it's been pretty fun, nonetheless.

And it's not 90 degrees, nor am I nine months pregnant and scared out of my wits, so that's always good.

Most of my workouts were done early, or while pushing Bug in his stroller. Let me tell you how NOT fun it is to push a 24 pound Bug in a stroller while trying to do 5K pace pickups. He sure liked it, though! I've got about 9 hours planned for this week, and, barring any major disasters, I should hit that. That, in and of itself, is quite a victory for me.

Tomorrow morning I'm super excited to be able to hit the trails and run with another person that can talk to me! Yahoooooooooo! It's not just me and my Garmin! :) I'll be doing 12 miles with Aimee, my buddy and my Iron-Bro Eric's wife, who is training for the Nike Women's Marathon the same day of C-bus. We're about the same pace and have the same goals, and want to start REALLY early, so it works out perfectly! Then later that day I'll take Bug out for a few more miles to get about 14-15 in. Sunday I've got a ride and some weights, and Monday my last swim outside for a while. I really wish the pools were open in September around here, because it's still CRAZY hot here in September! Oh well.

I've been focusing on good nutrition, and it seems to have paid off! I'm pretty pumped about that. Now, I still eat my ice cream, don't you worry....but I just try to do as much whole grains, fruits and veggies, low-fat dairy and lean meat as I can, and--drum roll please--I've lost 4 more pounds, which puts me below my pre-pregnancy weight! Yahoooooooooooooyippeeeee! So now I'm all about maintaining and toning up what I've got, which is (to me) a good place to be.

Tonight, though, it's all about celebrating...a new year, a good start, and cashing in on a gift card from my brother for my FAVORITE restaurant, which happens to be a Mexican place. I sure hope I don't pay for that tomorrow morning... ;)

Oh, and the little Bug started walking on August 17th. I forgot to mention that. And it's been sooooooooo fun. I like to think he did it so that I could be there for it. Thanks, Bug!

Reality Check

Okay.

Deep breath.

This is a call to remind yourself that you do this because you love it. You have been doing this ten years and that's just about a third of your life. It is as much a part of you as blinking your eyes and breathing. It is what you were born to do. You truly enjoy it, and that's more than a lot of people get to say about where they spend most of their waking hours.

In those ten years, you've tried your best to teach the history of this world and of this nation to about 1,300 students. Some got it. Some didn't. Some don't want to admit they got it, which is a tiny victory. You entered a barely-22 year old who thought she could change the world and was heartbroken to find that wasn't entirely possible. You almost left.

You know now at 31 that you can't change everything, but you can change some. And knowing that has brought a certain amount of peace to some of the heartbreaking things you've seen.

You went to more school at night, on a full scholarship that you worked so hard for, and you earned your M.A. in history over three years of writing papers late at night after going to class after teaching classes. You graduated with honors, without a penny of debt, and it meant just as much as the four years of undergraduate work you did where you also graduated with honors and, thanks to a lot of scholarships and a lot of help from Mom and Dad, graduated debt-free.

You've worked so hard to get where you are. And, as far as jobs go, you have the perfect one. There is not another place you'd rather be, save perhaps the Capitol as a United States Congresswoman.

You are going to have your 27th first day of school on Tuesday because you want to.

You don't have to.

You do this because it's who you are and it's what you worked so hard to become. It makes you a better mommy. Some mommies are happier when they are at home, too, like your own was, and that's perfect. Every one, every time, and every situation is different.

You have this choice.

You just enjoyed two and a half months of time with him and your husband, too, with paychecks still coming in every week. Sure, you could make a lot more doing something else, but you would never, ever, find something with such a good schedule.

Many mommies do not have this choice. They work because if they do not, there is no food and the electricity is turned off.

So, for crying out loud, relax. He's fine. He gets to play and sleep with a few of his friends, and chase them around. He even gave you his first steps this week, just so that you got to see them. You still can go feed the ducks, head to an Indians game, go for a ride, take him for a jog, catch lightening bugs in the backyard, and at least for next week go for a swim. You won't stay as late as you used to in your classroom, and that's okay. The house won't always be clean, and that's okay, too. Sometimes you're not going to be able to cook a nice meal, and that's okay. Lean Cuisines are your friend. Dust bunnies can be your friend.

All of this is your choice, and that in and of itself is such a wonderful privilege.

So go have your first day of school. And stop freaking out about it.

He still loves you and his Daddy more than anything in the world, and you wouldn't trade one choice you've ever made for anything.

A Letter To My Pregnant Self, July 28, 2007

Dear Hormonally-Challenged One Who Freaks Out A Lot Eats Lots of Chocolate Covered Pretzels and Is Really Scared,

Let me save you some trouble.

He'll be born October 2nd--a week early, and you'll be induced, because he's so big and healthy and your doctor is afraid he might be 6 feet tall and drive you home if you wait much longer. His name will be Jackson, and from the second you lay your eyes upon him he'll be the most important thing in the world to you. He'll change your world more than anyone could verbalize to you. He'll be 9 pounds, 4 ounces, and yes, it will hurt like hell, but you'll do it. He'll be the most painful thing you'll ever experience, but the second you see him you'll forget all that pretty much forever and be stricken with baby-sighting pain amnesia. I hear it's quite common, actually.


Right now, you're afraid of many, many things, and most of which are out of your control. You like to be in control of everything, so this has been a crash-course in a little class called "Your Body Is Hella Smarter Than You Are." You won't get on the scale at all--you stopped at the beginning of this month--because it was messing with your head. In fact, your doctor has a big note on your chart that says to the nurse, "DO NOT TELL WEIGHT" because you are such a headcase.

Let me save you some more trouble.


The 55, yes, that is, the I CAN'T DRIVE 55 POUNDS that you will gain will all come off pretty quickly. Like in the first 4-5 months. Your Mom and your friends who have been here before are trying to knock that into your two mile thick skull, but you're not listening. You won't listen to me, either, but at least I tried. And a few more pounds will fall off when you're training for Steelhead. Ten months to the date of Jackson's arrival, you'll be leaner and fitter than you ever have been. But you still won't believe me. You think you're a beached whale and you're all angry about how slow you are. This is also quite stupid, but at least you sort of know how dumb you're being.


You worry. You worry that you'll never run or swim or ride the paces you did before. You fear being slow forever and ever, and you think it's the end of the world.


Let me save you some more trouble.

You won't run, ride, or swim those paces again. Because you'll be faster. And stronger.


You fear that it's selfish to admit that you don't want to give up a part of your life--the independent part, where you get to do whatever you want to do at any time with any one. But the crazy thing is, you really won't. What you will want to do will adapt to fit this new chapter of your life, but you'll find that you can still do the things you want to do--like run, swim, see your friends, make s'mores, go for a hike, play Rock Band, read a book, have a party, travel, race, and teach.
You'll wonder how you ever made it thirty years without him.



You'll be amazed at how much you love his Daddy.



One year from today, you'll be staring a half ironman in the face. And you'll be calmly ready to go, because you know now that this race is different. This race will be justifying all the hours you spent away from him--all the times you got up early so you would get your workouts in before he was up, so you could be the one to see him smile at you with his sleepy eyes. So you could be the one who gets to feed him his oatmeal. You will remember all the boring, lonely 3 hour rides and hour and a half runs you did by yourself, because you had to squeeze it in from home at an unpredictable time, and this time, you want to make it worth something.


This race needs to justify every second away.


You long for runs with your best running buddy followed by 2 hours of coffee and conversation, but you know that she has moved to the other side of the country and has a new baby of her own and those days are on hold. And this bums you out for a moment, but you know that those times will come again. For now, it was all about efficiency, and making it count. So you could be there when it really mattered. So you could be his mother.


And I know it's hard to imagine now, but you'll be ready. Your definition of success will shift a bit, and as a result, you will succeed even more.


And you'll feel like the luckiest girl on the face of the earth, because you've been blessed with the opportunity to pretty much do it all, with a lot of love and a lot of help.


So put up with the cankles. Try not to freak about the scale. Listen to your Sis, because she knows what she's talking about. Everything will fall into place, and there will be changes but you'll roll with it. And your training and your life will ebb and flow along, and there will be times of solitude and gratitude and sleeplessness and more love than you can ever imagine.


Sincerely,

TST '08

No Sleep 'Til Brooklyn

....or Jackson. Who will now be known as JayZ. Because he's big pimpin' and spendin' G's. Or maybe just big.

I have neither the time, brain capacity, nor energy to compose a witty paragraph post....so list format it is.

1. My friends, family, and coworkers are AMAZING, and I'm quite sure that without them I'd be a crying exhausted heap on the floor. Special props to my Mom who has been my own personal nurse on call...and maid...and coffee maker...and laundry folder...and baby rocker...etc. etc. etc.

2. Multiply that by about 57 and that's how amazing Matt has been. I thought I loved him before...this whole adventure takes that to another level entirely.

3. I sorta feel like a milk machine.

4. I've lost 28 pounds in 10 days. Can you say, water weight? Sadly, I still have quite a ways to go....but it's a start.

5. I'm getting really good at changing diapers in the dark.

6. I haven't slept more than 3 hours at a time since September 30.

7. Sometimes I'm not sure who cries more at 3am....JayZ or me.

8. Once again...Matt is amazing. Even more so at 3am when I am exhausted and not making sense and babbling.

9. JayZ is the cutest thing I've ever seen, and I can't believe that he's mine.

10. He's now 9 pounds 6 ounces, and has gained back all of his weight, so I must be doing something right.

11. Every day the world is a little more amazing to me, and every day I'm surprising myself and slowly getting the hang of this whole thing.

The hardest thing I've ever physically done...

...was to bring my little man into the world Tuesday night.

Jackson Adam Ziemnik arrived at 7:39pm. He was 9 pounds, 4 ounces. Yep, I grow 'em big. Somehow I made it through with Matt's help and avoided a C-Section, despite Jackson being in a difficult position and being such a big little man. I've never experienced something so surreal and amazing. Ever. Evereverever.

We're finally home and doing well...not sure when I'll be able to update as I'm lucky to get 10 minutes to take a shower here and there. But soon, I promise!

Thanks for all the happy thoughts over the past 10 months. We are so happy right now, and I just love him more every second.

IronMom, signing out! :)