Tri like a girl

That's the vinyl decal I really want to put on the back of one of our vehicles. The only problem is the hubs and I share cars, and I don't know if he really wants some girly saying on the back of anything he is so masculinely driving. But it represents an accomplishment I'm proud of.

So I completed my first triathlon. Before you go off calling me crazy and trying to admit me to psychiatric care, let me 'splain. No. There is too much. Let me sum up. I only did a simple SPRINT tri. It is much, much, much, much, much shorter than those crazy Ironmans. Those people really are crazy. The tri that I did was called a sprint tri and consisted of a 300-meter swim, 12-mile bike, and a 3-mile run. So not too bad. But still a good workout that requires training (at least for me).

So you were hoping I'd describe my experience in nauseatingly vivid and excessive amounts of detail? Well, friend, today is your lucky day.

This journey begins about four months ago. Don't remember who I was talking to or why the subject came up, but we were talking about triathlons.. or something to do with swimming? We were talking about something and I thought maybe a triathlon is something I could do. So the next day I found one online that was advertised as a non-competitive, supportive-environment type sprint tri. Oh, yes. It was women only as well. Signed myself up and went and joined the rec center since I'd heard it was a good place to swim. It was indeed a good place to swim. Nice non-intimidating environment due to the fact that 93% of the people who swim at the rec center I'd gander are over the age of 62. Helps you feel speedy when you're racing. 'Cept they might not have known we were racing. Details.

Anywho.. so I spent the next three months (13 weeks, technically) following my training schedule and practicing my running, biking, and swimming skills. My swimming skills improved the most (thanks, at least in part, to the lady swimming next to me one day and couldn't stand the inefficiency of my stroke, so proceeded to give me a good 30-minute one-on-one swimming lesson. Did you know there's such a thing called an s-stroke? You did? Well, um, me too.) I swam my first mile during my training. I had previously deemed this an impossible task, so I like to think of this as an accomplishment.

So the week before the race and what happens? The kiddos get sick. Bummer, man. Little Boodles as we sometimes call her (or Brylers or Benny boo boo boo boo boo) is running this wicked high fever. 104.8 high. In the middle of the night. Of course. I knew from previous experience that if I rushed her into the ER, they just work on getting her fever down. So I decided to try myself and hopefully not have to wake up Addy to take them on a little 2:00 a.m. field trip. So Boodles got the meds, the AC cranked up in the house, the "chilled" bath, ran around in the nude, the works. She was as cheerful as ever though, so that helped me not worry as much. Called the on-call doc and he said if we could get the fever down to 101 over the course of an hour we probably wouldn't need to take her in. So I worked hard at it and eventually it came down to the 101 range and she fell asleep. And I slept with her. 'Ya know, just in case.

Took her to the family doc the next day and he said she likely had roseola. Biggest thing was to try to keep her fever down and to watch her closely since some kids can have seizures when they have high fevers. Sheesh. So she spent the next couple days watching Barney with lots of juice and popsicles to keep her hydrated.

Poor kid. Finally Wednesday night/Thursday morning the fever broke. Hallelujah. But needless to say, I didn't exactly get lots of training in that week due to being otherwise occupied. Jackson got home Thursday night and we left Friday afternoon to head down to Salt Lake. Small problem was I woke up on Friday not feeling too hot. My body ached, my stomach hurt, and I just felt crappy overall. But told myself to zip it, put the big girl panties on, and to move on.

So we drove to Salt Lake and took the kids to the Discovery Gateway, a children's museum. If I lived in the area, I would totally get a season pass. There are so many awesome things in there that are exactly the types of things we work on with Addy and her learning time. They have this huge area that's all about pretend play. There's a fully furnished little house, a construction site, a market, a ranch, a huge garden, a gas station, and a variety of other things.

They have costumes where the kids can dress up and all of the equipment you would possibly need to be a mom, a grocer, a fireman, a mailman, a farmer.. you get the picture. Pretend play is not something that comes naturally to Addy. Oftentimes she will "organize" toys more than actually play with them, so this was so fun to have so many different things where we could work on pretend play. At the museum they also have several other sections and fun things for kids, but this section was the most popular for us. We easily spent a couple hours there. I wish we could have stayed longer, but I was really not feeling very well and wanted to get to bed sooner than later.

So after the museum we went and did the packet pickup/body marking where they mark your arms with your number and your leg with your age. This is especially helpful so when you have people pass you, you can notice that they're a mere 13 years old or something (not that that actually happened or anything. whatever. I don't want to talk about it), or if you happen to pass people, you can take note that they're twice your age and you're just struggling by them. It's a good self-esteem booster.

As you can see, I was number 426, a number that Jackson said was one of his favorites. I thought he was joking, but he said it was the number of some motorcycle or dirt bike or something that he used to race or something. So it was lucky? Or something.

Anyway, that night was very non-exciting. I managed to swallow about four bites of spaghetti and went to bed praying that I'd feel better in the morning.

At an early 5:30 I woke up and did feel somewhat betterish. I didn't feel all pins and needly and feverish, so that was great. But my stomach still felt not so great, so that was not so great. We got ready and left at 6:00 a.m., a nice early morning for the two little yahoos.

The tri was held at the Olympic Training Center, and it was a huge facility. I got my bike and transition area set up while Jackson got the kids dressed. I met up with him again, and then proceeded to spend the next little while, er, emptying my stomach. This was good though, because now on a completely empty stomach, I was feeling much better and felt like I'd at least make it through the race.

The swimming was held in a 50-meter pool. They did a staggered start and would basically start five people at a time on both sides of the pool. You'd swim down one lane, back on the other side, switch lanes, swim down and back, switch lanes, down and back. Pretty simple. At the packet pickup we were tagged by our speediness of swimming. I was the "intermediate" blue wrist band, meaning I started in about the middle of the pack.

The girls around me were super nice. I ended up being the leader of our little group of five, so I told them to feel free and pass me since I was the most nervous about swimming. And then the guy came back to our side of the pool, called out 426, go! And I was off.

After I pushed off the wall, I realized the left side of my goggles weren't sealed all the way and had the pleasure of water rushing in trying to blind me. Blast. Fixed it and kept going. By the time I swam my first 50 meters I was catching up to the last girl on the group on front of me. Through the whole swim I probably passed 10 or so people. That was exciting, especially since my goal in the swim was to not drown. Check.

So I finished the swim and went to the transition area.

On a totally unrelated note, I've decided I would not be a very good-looking bald person.

And I was off for my bike ride.

And it was great. Even though I didn't have a fancy-smanchy racing bike with super skinny racing wheels. After a few miles I saw this lovely poster they had posted with Ryan Gosling. You know the ones all over Pinterest where they have a nice picture and he says "hey, girl." something, something, something. You know the ones.

Fine. I will show you. Like these:

Oftentimes they're comical. And the ones on Pinterest oftentimes have to do with sewing, crafting, pinning, et cetera. Well, THIS particular poster says, "Hey, girl, you got this" with a nice smiley picture. So just take a moment to imagine that. And I turn the corner, and guess what? There's a gargantuan hill. Straight up. I mean, it literally went straight up. For a long time. So it's a good thing Ryan Gosling told me that I've got this or I quite possibly would not have made it. But as luck would have it, I trekked up that mountain and survived. It was a good deal.

In the meantime the girls and Jackson were having a fun time (or so he tells me) making a cute little sign, playing in the bouncy house they had set up, eating cotton candy, and other various fun activities they had for the families of participants.

Did I mention that it was an early morning? Usually the kids don't look so... tired. Or something. They also may or may not be wearing the wrong set of clothes. As in the bigger girl is wearing the little girl's clothes and vice versa. No biggie. That's why there are moms in this world.

So I made it back into the transition area the second time and got going on my run. The run was....well....hard. At least the first part was. Remember how I told you about that huge hill we got to go up biking? Well, the first mile and a half of the run was almost completely uphill. So the same sad little tired muscles that were used on the bike were being used on the run, and they were a little tired. I was not running so speedily. In fact, I probably could have walked faster than I was "running." Oh well. The last part of the run was downhill and you have loads of people cheering and stuff, so the picture that Jackson took makes it look like I was actually running for the run part of the tri. I wasn't. I was a big sissy for 97% of the run, and then the last 3% decided to step it up slightly.

So I finished. Crossed the finish line. That was my second goal. I didn't drown, and I finished. Check and check.

I just want to say that I was so glad Jackson was there. It seriously made all the difference in the world. Especially when I was not feeling well and he told me to chill out and everything would be fine. Sure love that handsome fellow.

My overall time was 1:41:29.6. Good enough for me. The main thing is I can now cross a triathlon off my bucket list. Well, technically, first I'd have to put it on my bucket list. Well, technically, first I'd have to make a bucket list. And then put it on said bucket list. And then cross it off.

The only thing that ticked me off was after I finished my first triathlon I was fully planning on heading to Dairy Queen, ordering me a LARGE Blizzard, and happily eating it all the way home. BUT since my stomach was not my friend that day, I figured that would not be the greatest of all ideas I've ever had. So instead I spent the drive home eating a bag of Cheerios. The peanut butter kind. So still delicious, but not even close to a Blizzard. I will get that Blizzard though, dang it, and eat it ALL, even if I have to drive 50 miles to do it (which I will, since there is no Dairy Queen in my town. Tragic).

Overall it was a positive experience. I'd even do it again!

But not until next year.

Thanks for reading.

Bittersweet

Bittersweet. Reminds me of chocolate.. only that's more semisweet. As in chocolate, chocolate chips. The only chocolate I really ever have in my house. Good thing too, or else I'd probably be packing an extra 20 pounds or so..

And, yes, this may have been me on one occasion. Or two. Or more. Whatever.

I'm writing this post to talk about my (old) job. For the past five and a half years I've been working as a court reporter for one of the local district judges. Seriously, an amazing job. I would show up for court, but then for my transcript time (the majority of my work) I was able to really set my own hours. It rocked. It gave me the flexibility to work (mostly) when my kids were sleeping or when the hubs had them and really gave me the feeling like I was sort of a stay-at-home mom...at least 80% of the time. The job gave my family benefits and a great enough paycheck that my better half could go to school full-time and really only work during the summer to pay for his tuition. Sweet deal.

There were very few times when I would feel that I really didn't want to go to work. Admittedly, trials weren't (and still aren't) my absolute favorite things in the whole wide world (especially civil ones.. bleh), but it can be interesting to hear a case from beginning to end, get the verdict, and participate in the whole courtroom shebang. Olive it.

And then I put in my resignation notice.

Whhhhaaaaaatttttt?????? (Feel free to act super surprised here, even if you've already known for the past couple months that I was quitting slash have now officially quit. Exaggerated facial expressions preferred.)

It's sadly true. It all happened when I realized that, as much as I would love to,

I have finally accepted the fact that I'm not superwoman.

I know you're surprised and was secretly hoping one of your very own friends was the woman behind the mask (does she even normally wear a mask? No idea. She's not on The Avengers) saving the world one day at a time.

So here's the dealeo: I was feeling a bit like my life was turning into THE CLIFFS OF INSANITY!

Hurry up! Move that thing! And. . . that other thing! Move it!

Up at 6:00, working like crazy (at my job and the massive influx of transcript I was having ordered), working like crazy (at my faux going back to school learning about all things to do with Addy and her diagnosis), trying to squeeze a workout in here and there (so I didn't have a true psychological breakdown), trying to spend quality time with the kiddos (especially when the hubs was gone), keeping food in the house, bills paid, cleaning when I couldn't stand the messiness or clutter anymore, washing and drying clothes (usually to realize nothing was actually getting put away and consequently we were all starting to look like we belonged on episodes of What Not to Wear), and maybe a few other things thrown in here and there. I'd go to bed between midnight and 2:00 a.m. only to wake up at 6:00 a.m. and still find I was falling behind in every. aspect. of. my life. Enter: Cliffs of Insanity Every. day.

I was on the verge of an MMM, Major Mommy Meltdown, when it hit me. Like a bucketload of bricks to my head. Quit. I need to quit something. I went over my options: Quit the home stuff (aka laundry, grocery shopping & finances). Sounds peachy but perhaps it would not be so delightful to have the good ole Department of Health and Welfare knocking my door down to come reclaim my starving dirty children. Out. Quit working out. My only source of stress relief, and that just seemed like a bad idea. Quality time with the kids. Out. It came down to keeping my job or giving my daughter the best autism intervention I possibly could. The choice was made. When it comes right down to it, of course I'll be choosing my family over anything.. especially a job.

So I quit. And I almost cried about four times the day I submitted my resignation. Literally. And here we are. Stay-at-home mom and advocate is my job now. It doesn't pay as well, but the benefits are unquestionably better.

I'm so grateful though for the things that I've learned working in court. I sure have learned a lot more than how to write fast and what to avoid doing if I were to ever be arrested :) I'm afraid that when I started working in court I was terribly judgmental. The defendants who came into the courtroom I would think of as terrible people making terrible choices. What I've come to realize, however, is how blessed I've been to be raised by parents who taught me right from wrong, who loved and cared about me, what it's like to have positive role models in my life, to not be laden with life-controlling addictions. It's true that most every defendant who comes into that courtroom is there because of a bad choice (or usually a series of bad choices) that they've made throughout their lives. At the same time, most of them have not been raised in the same circumstances I have been, and many have not been taught the same things that I was taught growing up. Who am I to judge? We each have our different devils and weaknesses that we struggle with. Mine happen to not be quite as illegal as others, but I know I sure wouldn't want to trade places.

On a completely unrelated note, since Addy chopped her hair in lovely random places she is now sporting shoulder-length hair with a nice comb-over of her bangs. But I think it'll be okay. Better than last time at least :)

Thanks for reading.