Archive for the ‘Health and Fitness’ Category

Note to Self: Do Not Do That Again

Saturday, June 5th, 2010

So, I signed up for a sprint Triathlon at Lake Lanier. I signed up early, because sometimes they fill up, and then life did what it does: It got crazy. T-ball and swim team. End of school programs and parties and gifts to buy. Todd’s new job that has already sent him to NYC twice and which keeps him away from us a lot. My bout with depression, which is ironic, really – I get depressed when I don’t work out. I was too depressed to get my shit together and work out. I didn’t work out, which increased my depression. Cue endless cycle. Feeling much better on that front.

Anyway, i thought about just bailing on the whole triathlon thing. I did some workouts for my training, but my heart wasn’t in them. I skipped others. But when it came down to it, I just couldn’t bring my self to skip on race day. So I went. And I am glad. There is a singular and unique feeling of having completed a race or triathlon; not much compares to it.

However – If you don’t get in all your training beforehand, or more specifically, if you don’t get in much training at all?

IT IS PAINFUL.

I knew i would finish. I had done one before, and i hadn’t died. I had done the same (almost the same) course before. I even had some grand ideas about beating last year’s time.

HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!

It was so not funny.

I wasn’t nervous before the swim. Although there are many people who freak about the swimming portion, i really like it. Kind of peaceful almost. Cool lake water, 8 am. I kinda like it. Plus, fat girls can hold their own with skinny girls in the swimming portion. But when I got towards the end of that, and got ready for the run to transition, I just knew: This was gonna hurt.

So, I hoofed it up to transition. I changed to my bike stuff. Still feeling fine, but just not feeling REALLY fine. Hopped on the bike, and headed out. I could tell almost right away – my lack of time in the saddle really hurt me. (Not to mention some ridiculous humidity.) The coolest part of the bike is probably crossing the big bridge at Lake Lanier Islands. Very fun to haul ass across that bridge on a bike. Not so fun? Big curving hill on Holiday Rd., and the killer on New Prospect Rd. I admit it – I thought about getting off and walking it. I thought i was gonna die. The rest of that out and back is pretty easy. A few rolling hills, but mostly flat and wide, with bike lanes and well-directed traffic, pretty scenery – farms and tractors and fields, mixed in with the crappy subdivisions, and roadside ditches dotted with Queen Anne’s Lace, which always reminds me of walks with my great Aunt Virginia, whom we all called Bubba.

I got passed a lot. A LOT. Not a good feeling.

I think my goal for the summer will be to try and get a bike ride in at least every weekend. And to find some riding partners, because I need someone to keep me honest, and get me up and out early. Also? Safety in numbers.

My son is reading my blog over my shoulder. Spooky.

Now he is laughing.

He is a bit of a goober.

More laughing.

Stop it, Rollie.

Anyway, I made it back and rounded the last corner. I saw Todd and the kids sitting on the sidewalk.

My Fan Club

It raised my spirits.

Got back to transition, put on my hat, and headed off. I was already feeling kind of done. Managed to run past the bulk of the crowd (shame is a powerful motivator for me) and then walked a while. Made a deal with myself that I would run downhills and flats, and walk the hills. I had some water in transition, so I skipped the first water station, thinking i would get water at the next one. Thought it was odd that it was unmanned and there were only larger water bottles (they were like 40 oz bottles of water, i think – huge-looking.) Last year, on the run, there were water stations at the end of the out-and-back. Not this time. No water. Broke my deal with myself to not walk when I got to the end and realized they had changed the course, and it wasn’t the end, and there was no water there either.

Saw my friend Megan (Tucker Represent!) and we walked awhile and she gave me some of her water. It was hot as hell by then, and most of the run was in full sun. Got back to the water station and all of the water was gone.

FUCK.

Walked for a while again. Started to see the light at the end of the tunnel, knowing it would be over soon. Saw the last hill, and ran it. Nice spectators along this portion gave lots of support. You just can’t slow down when you have people calling you out by number. “Go, 93! You got this!” and crap like that, really does help you when you are toast.

I was toast.

I rounded the corner to transition, and finally hit some shade. Came out of the woods to see my kids and Todd cheering for me, and Tiller ran out on the course and tried to run with me, which was cute, but I had to make her go back, which was kinda sad. Just running across the parking lot to the Finish line was about to kill me, and seeing my time, well, it was bittersweet. I was ten minutes slower than my last time, and last time I had a very time-consuming bike chain issue. But on the flip side, last time was much easier. This one was not fun. it was hard. I wanted to quit, numerous times, and did. (I count walking as quitting, I’ll be honest.) But I finished. It was by far the harder of the two triathlons I have done, and I finished. There is something very much of value to be garnered from overcoming the sincere desire to quit, the cramp in your side, the thirst gone unquenched, the numb feet, and most of all, the negative dialogue you have with yourself in your head.

There is something to be said for going through with something, because you know you will be better for doing it, even though you know it will suck some serious ass.

And in the end, what you gain from it is usually way more than what you gave on the course. What you gain from it is yours, all yours, and cannot be taken away. Ever.

Me and Megan, Post-Race

Race Photos

Monday, April 26th, 2010

How cute are they?

Bossy and Stubborn

Friday, February 5th, 2010

This story will not surprise anyone who knows Rollie and me well. Rollie and I? We are just alike in so many ways. We can be a little intense. Focused to the point of obsession about things we enjoy doing. (God forbid you ask us a question while we are reading.) We don’t like to be told what to do. We are brilliant and attractive. (Okay, I just stuck in that last part.) What does this mean?

It means we fight like cats and dogs.

I know it sounds silly that I would argue with a six-year-old, but you haven’t argued until you have argued with Rollie. He really keeps me on my toes. Some days he gets the best of me. Some days he makes me cry. Some days I wonder whether he even loves me.

Last night, though, we got into an argument so absurd that it sent me into a fit of giggles. We were reading a book before bed. One of those Berenstain Bears books from Chick-fil-A. You can say whatever you want about Truett Cathy, but big props to him for not sticking another cheap, crappy plastic toy into the kids’ meals, and instead opting to give kids books. What a novel idea! Get it? Novel? I’ll be here all week, folks.

So, we are sitting on my bed like we do every night. Todd or I will sit in the middle, and Tiller and Rollie sit on either side. We still make a point to read to both of them, even though Rollie can read himself. We figure Tiller needs to get the same amount of reading that Rollie received in his first years. It is surprising how shafted the second child gets sometimes, and the way that the first child will complete tasks, sentences, and answers for the younger one, preventing the younger one from having to learn for themselves. After we read, Rollie will sometimes go into his room and read a chapter book on his own, until we make him turn out his light. (This also is absolutely nothing like me. I swear.) While we are reading with Tiller, though, Rollie will stop us if he doesn’t know a word, and we will define it for him, then continue reading.

So, last night, I was reading along, and came to the word “obstinate.” Rollie stopped me, but instead of asking what it meant, he said, “I already know what obstinate means. It means ‘bossy.'” (It’s always “I already know” with this kid – you can’t tell him anything.)

Me: “That’s great that you know this word, but it actually means ‘stubborn.'”

Rollie: “No, it means, ‘bossy.’ Mrs. Anderson told me so.”

Mrs. Anderson is his teacher, and she is awesome. She is also very smart and I figure that she knows the meaning of obstinate, and Rollie probably just heard her wrong.

Me: “Baby, you are really close to the meaning, but it means ‘stubborn.'”

Rollie: “No, it means ‘bossy’ and I know I am right.”

He got the unshakeable look to his face that he gets. It is a kind of “discussion over, I am not listening to you anymore, finger in my ears, singing loudly” set to his jaw. It kind of scares me. Meanwhile, Tiller is picking up the book that I had set down in my lap and is fingering through it, looking bored with the whole discussion. I realize we might be there all night.

Me: “Okay, well, it means ‘stubborn.’ You just look it up in your dictionary when you get to your room.” (Way to get the last word, Mom, I think to myself.)

Rollie: “I don’t have to look it up, because I know that it means “bossy.””

I am not sure whether the next part is due to my desire to help Rollie learn, or my desire to always be right. Not pretty, but it is probably the latter. I pick up my iPhone and google “obstinate definition.” I click on the Merriam-Webster link that comes up. I show it to Rollie. It reads:

ob·sti·nate
adj.
1. Stubbornly adhering to an attitude, opinion, or course of action; obdurate.
2. Difficult to manage, control, or subdue; refractory.
3. Difficult to alleviate or cure: an obstinate headache.

Rollie: “Well, that’s wrong. I know it means “bossy.”

Me: “Stubborn.”

Rollie: “Bossy.”

Tiller, wailing: “When are we going to finish the book?”

Me: “You’re right Tiller, let’s read.”

I begin to read, thinking about the argument with Rollie, and the fact that it was over the word ‘obstinate,’ and then i get the giggles. I can barely read the words in the book for the giggles, and the kids start giggling too, because how funny is it that Mama can’t stop giggling?

They ask why I am laughing. I tell them, “because it is funny that Mama and Rollie were arguing over whether the word obstinate means bossy or stubborn. Tiller, you can just call Rollie and me Miss Stubborn and Mr. Bossy.”

You can call us that, too. Miss Stubborn and Mr. Bossy.

The Bright Side of Puking

Wednesday, February 3rd, 2010

Tiller’s got the pukes. It all started Sunday before last, with Rollie having no appetite. Any parent worth their salt knows that when a kid has no appetite for something that they usually scarf down, then you will be dealing with puke within 24 hours. It is a law of nature.

Rollie was out of school five days last week. He had only one puke incident, but then had a fever for six days straight. He felt better on Friday (just in time for the weekend!). Tiller fell sick on Sunday night. Same thing. No appetite, fever, a little puke. Both kids also have a cough with this thing.

This sounds crazy, but I kind of like it when my kids are sick. No, i hate to see them scared or puking, and I hate the getting up two or three times a night to soothe them, and clean puke and change sheets, or to lie awake listening to them cough and worry about pneumonia or freak bacterial infections. Not that part.

But when they are sick, I am reminded how very much I love them, and how I couldn’t bear it if something happened to one of them. I am reminded that I am lucky that they are so healthy. Now that they are older, they don’t want to sit in my lap as often, or snuggle on the couch. I am chopped liver. But when they are sick? They want me, need me, even.

I am reminded of one time when Rollie was sick. He was about 18 months or two years, probably. He came into the kitchen where Todd and i were standing, and he looked just pitiful, and then he started throwing up. He had that panicky look that little kids get when they are vomiting. They don’t understand what is happening to them, and they feel like they are choking, and their eyes are begging you to fix it. Todd grabbed a towel, while I got down on my knees and pulled Rollie into my lap. His little fists were clinging to me, and he was puking all over the both of us, and the whole time it was happening, all i could think of was that there was not another person on earth whom I would let sit on my lap and puke all over me.

I was thinking, There is nothing that I wouldn’t do for you. Nothing.

A Girl Can Dream

Saturday, January 30th, 2010

I’ve written about Bunco, already. I was skeptical at first about a bunch of suburban women sitting around throwing dice and drinking wine, visions of 1950s Bridge Clubs, cucumber sandwiches and petit-fours in my head, but I love my Bunco group.

We had Bunco last night. It is usually on a Thursday, but this month, we had it on Friday. I think we all knew that would be both a good and bad thing, in the vein of “it seemed like a good idea at the time to finish off the bottle.” There is something scary about 20 women getting together without husbands or kids for drinking on a Friday night, with few Saturday obligations. (Jenn and Megan, i am so sorry about those ill-timed birthday parties and Math Bowls!) It is even scarier when half of them are dressed in 1980s workout gear.

Tara wins for creativity. Quite a feat to show up pregnant with twins, unable to drink, but wearing a Lakers outfit with matching high-heeled Converse kicks. The Converse, found for $3.99 at Value Village, were the hit of the party, and I am not sure who they ended up going home with after we all tried them on, but somewhere in my neighborhood, there is a husband (or a Kathy, perhaps?) who last night probably thought, “Aw, yeah! What do we have here?” and then quickly found him or herself clutching the covers, sucking a thumb, wondering when, oh when, it would be over.

Our hostess, Stacy H., managed to dig her original 80s dance clothes out of her attic, including some crazy knit bodysuit, and even more amazingly fit into them. I would be terrified if anyone tried to fit me into something, anything, i wore in high school. Shiny headbands, leg warmers, and off-the-shoulder Flashdance sweatshirts were de rigueur.

And then there were those of us who just showed up in our sweats and tees, there for the booze and the dice.

The wine was flowing freely (and I am thanking god today that I chose to bring beer last night), and we got started rolling late, so by the time we were done with three rounds, we were well in our cups. I know that everyone thinks i mean tipsy, but people who are a little tipsy don’t accidentally lock themselves in their neighbor’s bathroom, unable to get out. Twice. Wine glasses were smashed, and music was cranked up. Of course, I am kind of a music snob, and I had never heard half of the songs because I don’t listen to 95.5 The Beat (Lisa, you would be in your element, here), but it really doesn’t matter, because I am missing the dancing gene anyways. The one that makes women get tipsy and dance with each other? It just doesn’t come naturally to me. These girls? They got the gene.

So, instead, i enjoyed watching them do the Beyonce dances, while drinking beer with Lauren (she danced a bit, but evidently does not quite have the gene either) and Stacy’s husband Mike, who oddly enough, went to my high school. Mike had hit the mother lode, as he had a bunch of drunk women dancing for him in his living room. We ladies also may or may not have broken things and then made Mike clean them up, taking pictures of him when he bent over to sweep up the glass, but that part is a little fuzzy.

A good time was had by all, and i rolled into bed at almost 3.

Did i mention the food was great? Lots of great Weight Watcher’s choices. I managed to stay within my extra points for the week, which is a bit of a miracle. I just can’t eat anything else until Monday morning. But I will have no trouble abstaining, now that I know there is a chance I could really work hard and take care of my body, and do a lot of that “She’s a Maniac” dance step, and someday get a slot in the lineup of the Bunco Hos Solid Gold Dance Revue. . . someday.

A girl can dream.

Chicks Dig Todd

Saturday, January 23rd, 2010

A wonderful birthday surprise was pulled over on me last evening. Todd took me to Iberian Pig for dinner (very good – I almost cried, the Bacon-Wrapped Dates were so good.) Then we walked over to Twain’s to play some pool and found a kajillion friends there. i was suspicious, though, as not one of my friends asked me to do something for my birthday. Still made me feel sick to my stomach to be the center of attention, but I washed that away with beer. Head only hurt a little bit today.

Thanks again to Ned and Vanessa for carting me home. (They didn’t have to use a cart. I swear.) They are the best.

Pictures didn’t come out that great, but I did take one that cracked me up really hard. I took it with QuadCamera for the iPhone. It takes four shots in succession. Todd has a new shirt that has snaps, instead of buttons. The chicks were totally diggin’ it. . .

That third one just kills me.

That third one just kills me.

2010, Please Let’s Not Start

Tuesday, January 5th, 2010

So, i woke up feeling good today, despite not sleeping well last night. But things went downhill. I am just kind of sad today and then realized that today would have been my Pop’s 94th birthday. I was in his world since 1972 and it just seems weird not to be able to call him and wish (yell) him a happy birthday. He was on this earth from 1916 to 2009. . . my mind boggles at all that passed in his lifetime.

And then I also found out that a neighbor (whom I did not even know by name) was murdered this past weekend, allegedly by her own husband. Their kids go to Rollie’s school. The family were members at our pool. The family had been missing and then the kids were found at a family member’s and when we heard that, we all knew it was not good, but still didn’t not know what happened to them. Our community has been rocked by the news of her death.

Just a generally sad, and heartbreaking day. Some days I have little faith in the world.

Back to the Grind

Monday, January 4th, 2010

No, not school. It doesn’t start until tomorrow. No, I’m talking about full on dieting and workouts. And stripper poles. I know I’m not alone. I usually prefer to run or bike or hike outside to anything in a gym. I pretty much detest working out in front of the tv. Not enough room, kids try to join in and make me frustrated. However, i wasn’t about to go the gym today (too busy) or run outside (too cold, plus what would i do with the kiddos?) so I took my friend Dawn‘s advice and worked out at home.

So, I got the kids all riled up, and cleared the ottoman off the rug in the basement, and looked through the workouts on Comcast’s on demand.

Oh. My. God.

If I had known that Carmen Electra’s Strip Tease workout was on here, i would have done this with kids on rainy days LONG ago. There is very little funnier than a four year old girl and six year old boy doing a strip tease dance to Carmen Electra.

Do you want the DFACs number? I am sure you can Google it.

After that, we did Carmen Electra’s Hip Hop workout for good measure. Tiller got a little frustrated with the quick moves in that one, but Rollie totally rocked his awesome moves. He can really cut a rug, in case you’ve forgotten. If I had any balls, I would set up a video recorder to get me doing it too, because I am by far the best hip hop dancer on my street. Never mind that everyone on my street is 80. (Lauren excepted, but if you would like to challenge me, you will have to bring Jake up tomorrow for a dance off.)

We finished it up with a yoga workout. Rollie kept talking, and falling over, but actually seemed to like doing it. Tiller didn’t; She made her Barbies do the moves instead. Rollie asked why there was no talking, and I tried to explain about meditating and concentrating on breathing, but I am pretty sure that I lost him when I began talking about breathing through your eyes.

This wasn’t exactly the great workout, complete with pouring sweat and shaking arms and legs that I was looking for, but it is better than nothing and fits the bill as far as working out every day.

Anyway, I can’t recommend this On Demand workout stuff enough if you are stuck inside or unable to go to the gym, or just if you are bored and want something to do with the kids. Or if you just need a big belly laugh.

What It’s All About

Friday, December 25th, 2009

This is what it’s all about for me.

Dash and I Playing Around

For more love, check out the gallery of photos below . . .

Happy Place

Saturday, December 19th, 2009

I don’t mind the weather
I’ve got scarves and caps and sweaters
I’ve got long johns under slacks for blustery days

I think that it’s brainless to assume
That making changes to your window’s view
Will give a new perspective

dscn4111.jpg

So, yeah, the anxiety is getting me down, and I feel like I’m in a rut. So, we’re going to my happy place. I don’t care how cold it is. I think it just might actually give me new perspective.