Life Today

Triathlon Training. From not-a-triathlete

I signed up for a half ironman triathlon. 

I’m not sure why- it seemed like the next great challenge….and it’s not a full, it’s only a half. Distances seemed somewhat doable, I put it out there to my friends and suddenly, I’m signed up. 

Alas. Today is the one month count down to go time. 

I’m not afraid of distance races- I’ve done marathons, the Triple Bypass, the Courage Classic every year- and these events are somewhat therapeutic, I process my grief by the extent of my heart rate. 

But this event! This gear intensive event! This you must swim, bike AND run event…..has taught me a bit about myself….

1. I stink 

Really, all of the time. My swim suit smells, wetsuit stinks, bike shorts, jog bras…..These items all end up in my car as I run around and try to train. As a result my new, beautiful car smells…like feet, and moldy towels. 

My mom said I should do a post about stinky workout clothes and my new car. I said “I won’t post about my stinky workout clothes!” 

Until I got in the car and realized the new car smell was gone- only to be replaced by the stinky feet smell. 

A friend of mine mentioned the different places on the body that we can apply deodorant- I’m not sure if this was a story or a suggestion. Perhaps deodorant on the back of my knees is a good idea.. 

2. I am seared

Like a tuna. Days out in the sun, sweating like a monkey…has given my skin the consistency of jerky. I am salty all of the time. The other day, on my bike I sucked in my upper lip and thought “huh, I taste like a rotisserie chicken! I am delicious!” 

3. I don’t know what to eat

I love to eat. The only reason I do these things is to eat. The other day after my “training” half marathon, I came home- Hubs was out of town so I divulged. I ordered a Combo noodle bowl with extra egg roll and settled down to binge watch old episodes of ‘Sex in the City’. 

I woke up three hours later having taken three bites of egg roll and my face in the noodle bowl 

I don’t know why they consider this a sexy event. 

In regards to eating, the success of this event revolves around proper nutrition so you don’t ‘bonk’. 

A bonk is where your blood sugar becomes too low and you revert to being a two-year old, curling up in a ball and crying until someone brings you a binky and a Big Mac. 

I need to avoid a bonk. 

On a recent ride I talked nutrition with friends…..”I’m thinking about using X drink” 

“Are you okay with leaving X drink in a bottle in 90 degree heat? It will be lukewarm. Can you drink lukewarm sugary drinks without gagging?” 

I don’t know the answer to this question. Am I? 

So I said, “What about PB&J?” 

“That might work. Can you eat dry bread when you are dehydrated without gagging?” 


On a positive note, I am having a love affair with my legs. My legs rock. 

If you know my legs, you know there is nothing special about them. My thighs are the size of Manhattan and the upper region is slightly dimply. But every once in a while I will feel my calves and feel little muscles that were not there before. 

“Well hello little muscle- what are you doing here?” 

“I am the carry your butt through mile 50 muscle. You need all the help you can get.” 

“Well thank you for showing up to the party.” 

“Yeah, do you have any ice cream?” 

And I sleep! I sleep like a baby bear cub swaddled in tiny fleecy ambien clouds of love.  

In the end, it always comes back to me being able to move. The community I love is made of people whose bodies have failed them. For every mitochondria I can fire up, it’s for someone who can’t- perhaps that will get me across the finish line. 

And ice cream….it’s also about ice cream. 
Life Today

Hold on. Hold onto Yourself

Don’t hate me. 

But I’m not a Sarah McLachlan fan. 

It’s nothing personal. 

I’m not a fan of sad music. 

I think I was the only one who didn’t like Adele’s “Nevermind I’ll Find Someone Like You.”  

At the end of the song, all I could think of was, You will! You will be fine! You will find someone like me! I’m really not that important! We went to a movie……shared some chicken wings. You’ll be okay.” 

But there is one Sarah song that tends to resonate with me every once in a while-

Hold On

Hold on, hold onto yourself, 
for this is gonna hurt like hell

I thought of this song when we lost our kiddos. Hummed it to myself in multiple PICU’s.  And it reminded me to brace myself, to armor myself for the hardest times of my life. And it helped….Hold on. Hold onto myself. Hold on…don’t dismiss how very much this will hurt. Cause it will hurt….like hell. 

This has been a tough week for our Special Needs community. One Mama lost her Mama to breast cancer. She is the third woman I have known this year to loose her fight to breast cancer. Breast Cancer can suck my big toe. Forgive me but I’m not quite sure how the town can be painted pink every year and so many people still succumb to this disease. 

Hold on, Hold onto yourself

And our Maria has been battling a bad prognosis for Jacob. 

you’ll be strong tomorrow and we will see another day
And we will praise it
And love the light that brings a smile across your face

It is hard at these times to remove myself from our situation and to give perspective from a place other than my own ‘Planet my Baby Died’.

And all I can say to my friends is to Hold On. Having been there- Hold On. Arm Yourself, Brace Yourself. But know, trust, believe, that you will continue to live this life with candid honesty, love, wisdom and gratitude. 

And in the meantime, this world will seem ridiculously trite and petty. 

I have to trust, to believe (selfishly) that you will all be okay- you parents with difficult decisions, you grieving Mamas and Daddys, you grieving daughters, you grieving sons. Because if you’re not, then maybe I’m not. 

And I really do want to be okay. And I want you to be okay to. 

Hold on, Hold onto yourself

And no wonder, no wonder that I don’t like sad songs. 

I heard that you’re settled down, found a girl and you’re married now….

Who the heck cares? I’m trying to hold onto myself.. 

Perhaps my perspective is a bit skewed.