I Heart Fall.

And while it's not actually fall according to the calendar, and definitely not according to the sweat dripping off my face while playing outside in the afternoons with the girls....I know it's close.

I can smell it.

It smells like hay rides, fall festivals, mums, those cinnamon brooms they sell in the grocery stores (the smell so strong, they make your food taste funny if you make the mistake and put them in the kitchen. I know from experience), candy corn, piles of leaves big enough to jump in.

I can't wait for the smell of someone else's fireplace burning while I'm running, the smell of arm warmers, leg warmers, FLEECE!, jeans, any non-flip flop kind of shoe, all the wonderful fall clothes. Welcome back long sleeves.

I am sniffing the end of the triathlon season coming (final race on 10/4) and the beginning of the off season (Silver Comet Half Mary 10/31). (What's a good costume that's comfortable to run in? Taking suggestions.)

The smells of pumpkins, spiders, costumes and decorations are keeping me awake at night.

I can't wait for my favorite part of fall...Halloween.

I love Halloween with a strange and unbridled passion. I don't really know why....I just do. After discussing with Mike, multiple times, my uber-involved ideas for Halloween decorations, party invitations, costumes for me, him and the girls....he finally gave me this look. A "you're a little off, aren't you, about this holiday" look. Followed by a firm, "We're setting a budget this year."

Okay, boss man. 20 Grand should cover it...

Some of last year's best smells...

Tugaloo Oly Race Report

aka "The Day I Quit Triathlon Forever".

I think Chris Cornell says it the best "I fell on black days".

Although, I am pretty sure he's not talking about triathlon.

Yeah...so not a great race for me. And by not great, I mean awful, horrible, no good kind of race. It was such a bad day for me, I don't really even want to remember it again to write this. But, I should....so I can (hopefully) learn from it.

It was basically as follows, a swim I was proud of, a bike that wasn't embarrassing, and a run that was.

And it is not necessarily my times that I am embarrassed by, it is how I dealt with them that I am not proud of. I just fell apart out there. Wanted to be home with my girls and husband not suffering out on this hillier than hell run course. The only thing that kept me from quitting was the fact that I didn't know how to get back to transition. Honestly. That is the ONLY reason for me not DNFing.

Oh my, was I in a dark place on that run course.

Throwing up a few times didn't seem to brighten my mood any either. ;)

I quit triathlon.

More than once.

I quit training for anything.

Multiple times.

I questioned what is wrong with me that I insist on doing painful things to my body, like this.

On every damn hill.

I walked on the run.

I never walk on the run.

I talked it over with Jen afterward...I needed some perspective. I was bummed. (Very helpful...thanks, Coach.)

I have worked hard this season. And it just didn't come together for me out there today. It took a little bit of time to realize that it was a "bad race" and I am not a "bad racer" or ill prepared.

I was ready to race...and excited. But, apparently my body was not. I've been sick the past two weeks with first a stomach flu, then a cold. I think my body was just not ready to go hard for over two and a half hours. My body gave up starting on the bike, then my mind, on the run.

That is what I am so disappointed about. That I was so ready to quit.

Oh well, something to work on. I am not quite ready to quit racing. Nope. Not just yet. That was just the pain talking. :) One more tri this season in a few weeks and I am already psyched to go, go, go.

That is what is so frustrating, difficult, annoying and ultimately rewarding about triathlon. That you always, always have something to improve upon and the days that it all comes together for you are so rare and the result of so much hard work.

Much to my dismay, you cannot PR every race.

My splits....I ended up 3rd in my age group, which funnily enough is my best AG finish at Tugaloo.

Kate Parker 33 Roswell GA 4 25:26 2.2 1:56 3 1:20:46 19.4 0:54 5 50:48 8:12 2:39:48

Deacon Blues

That's what I've got today. (Demon) Deacon blues, that is.

I am not talking about that Steely Dan song, which apparently has nothing to do with Wake Forest, or the Demon Deacons, or me not playing soccer as a Deacon any longer. Like most Steely Dan songs, I have no clue what it is about.

I am just not that smart. Or that high.

But the blues, yes, they're not really about missing soccer so much. (That's what triathlon is for, silly.) Mostly missing my teammates, joking around with them, traveling with them, having 20 sisters that you spend almost 24 hours a day with in-season. Team sports rock. Especially for girls. Man, I really hope my girls play sports. It is like a free pass to avoid the typical teenage girl hysteria re. boys, weight, cliques, etc. Well, not a free pass, but it certainly helps tone that crazy girl s*** down a bit. :)

I digress...what had me thinking about this today were a few things...(1) Our Wake Forest alumni soccer weekend coming up -- so excited for that and (2) this awesome gift that Mike masterminded for me.

That's my uniform. And it's framed. With pictures underneath. On my basement wall. Super-cool.

This ultra flattering picture embarrassed the crap out of me my sophomore year. And it was on the schedule cards. Doubly embarrassing for a 19 year old. (As an almost 33 year old, I think it's awesome. I am working hard and it shows. What's to be embarrassed about??)


What I really should have been embarrassed about was this picture.

I am about 2 feet away from touching my toes. Even with Amanda (who now lives 2 miles away from me!) pushing me down.

That's embarrassing.

My new job

My blog is mad at me. I've neglected him....her?

T'is true. My apologies.....um, blog.

I've been busy, what can I say. I got a new job....

With one tough a$$ boss. I call her "the boss" (I am too busy for clever names, people). She yells and screams at me all day long. Not even taking the time to clarify my job responsibilities. Just one ear splitting scream after another and another, followed by a haphazard finger point to whatever passing whim she wants me to bring her, get for her, do for her, feed her, make for her.

My "superior" expects a lot. I am supposed to divine from grunts and crude hand signals very nuanced and complicated things like "yes, I want the grapes in front of me. And yes, I want to eat them. You, lady, are going to feed them to me. NOW. If you take that bowl of grapes away from me and give them to my sister, even if you keep a few grapes here for me to eat, I will scream in your ear until you return the bowl to its rightful place. The bowl is mine. Got it?"

Annie Sullivan, I am not.

I am finally on a break now. The boss is sleeping.

In addition to my new "job", we've been busy cramming a ton into the rest of the summer before school starts next week for E (and the Boss, too. She's signed up to go with E 2 days a week.)

End of summer fun includes....

Slippin' and slidin'


S'mores makin'


Jumpin'


Cupcake makin' (That's Ming Ming from Wonderpets. E HOUNDED me for months to make these things. How-to was on Noggin about every ten minutes.)


Cupcake eatin'



Playroom loungin'


Beggin' (That's the boss in action. Screaming for some oatmeal off her big sis.)


Hikin'


And mastering the art of runnin' while talkin'

Love it.

The mailbox was stuffed full of awesome goodies today.

The awesome stuff was on top of the dirt that Ella threw in there three weeks ago. That I have not yet cleaned out. Our bills are a little grittier these days.

The box o'fun made me remember that I have not done a post about things I am loving lately. Warning, these have no discernible coherent pattern. Well, besides what was in the mail. And then what was in my head.

The mailbox had a few...

1. 2 Netflix movies. I love me some Netflix. Mainly because E is like a crack addict with her movies. More. Now. I NEED IT. (We lost the afternoon nap at 3 years and replaced it with a handy movie addiction.) The sheer volume of titles on Netflix should satisfy her movie jones until school is back in. I hope. Plus, Mike and I are really liking a lot of the documentaries that they have....Bigger, Faster, Stronger, Grey Gardens, The Business of Being Born, Man on Wire, American Teen. We are so much smarter now. Thank you, Netflix.

2. This necklace came in the mail today, too.

All the way from Hawaii. I don't think I have ever gotten anything from Hawaii. (The envelope disappointingly did not smell like the ocean or pineapples.) But, it was signed "Aloha". (If you can't see it. It is 3 silver disks with 2.4, 112 and 26.2 -- the IM run, bike and swim distances) Anyway, I found out about these necklaces on this blog that I like to read and you can buy them here, if you like. They have marathon necklaces, running ones, all kinds of athletic-y bling. If you're into that. I kind of am. :)

3. Shoes. In my mailbox. Genius! Okay, the UPS guy delivered the shoes. Minor Detail. Anyway, I love Zappos. Love, love, love it. Even today when they send me only one low top pink converse shoe for Ella for school. I click a few buttons. Sleep. Wake up and they are there the next afternoon. Magic.

4. Race photos. Well, okay, generally, I hate 'em. Seriously, does anyone look good in these? Let me rephrase that. Does anyone with a body fat % over 5 look good in these?

However, once in a great while, you get caught looking rough, tough and ripped (I am still waiting...) and you want to actually buy the picture. And then frame it. And maybe put your race number in there. And possibly your medal. But you don't want to mortgage your house to do it. Even if you do look that good. Check out Finish Line Framing, they do an awesome job of a really quality, sweet looking frame with all the bells and whistles, for a reasonable price. Plus, Angela, the owner, is super nice. I have one down in the basement and while the race photo is less than stellar (spandex is seriously un-for-giving), the frame? Flawless. Their website is here.

5. My two summer jams. Playing on repeat in the ipod all summah long. They are probably artists you've never heard of...super cool, super indy, new acts that only really hip people have heard of.

"Boom Boom Pow" by the Black Eyed Peas
and wait....
"The Climb" by Miley Cyrus

Yeah, I am so cool that I can't stop listening to the girl from Kids Incorporated and Hannah Montana.

Feel free to disregard the rest of the list now.

What 30 seconds of silence looks like...

Nats? NUTS!!

So, yeah, I am not racing this weekend at USAT Nats.

And yeah, I am kind of bummed about it.

Why the quitter, you ask? (And oh my, do I ever feel like a quitter.)

Well, the stomach ache that I attributed to nerves last Saturday may not really have been from anticipation. Something I didn't realize until I puked into the sink on Tuesday night. Then spent most of Wednesday in sweats with chills and body aches. Felt more human today and decided to let my workout decide if I was keeping the hotel room in Tuscaloosa for tomorrow night. I was spinning like a top all week between "I am racing. Damn the stomach virus!" and "Seriously....you're sick. Don't be dumb."

Swim felt good....YAHOO! I am ready to race, finally felt excited for this race, my "A" race, the one I was so pumped to qualify for, trained super hard for, I was ready to go (These are my thoughts mid-swim.) Get out. Shower. OW. OW. OW. Stomach. Is. a. Knot. OW. Can't stand up. Grrrr....

Okay. Fine. I get the picture. I am not ready to race. I am barely ready to race with these girls 100% healthy....and sick? Yeah, not so much. What am I going to get out of it besides (1) a handy ass kicking? and (2) another week's worth of sick from pushing too hard while I was already sick? (3) the awesome experience of racing with the best in the country? (see, I am still back and forth on my decision!)

Excuses, excuses. I know. I hate 'em, too.

But, as a wise friend told me, I am not quitting, I am choosing to fight another day. (Thanks, Jill.)

Tugaloo is in 3 weeks. Can't. Freaking. Wait.

My Stomach Hurts

Well, not right now. It hurt Saturday night.

It does that when I get nervous or excited.

Or both.

Saturday night (well, to be honest, all week) I was both.

I had a surprise party planned for Mike's 41st on Saturday night.

I had tried once before to surprise him with a party. No dice. His buddy, Peck, called the Saturday before the party was supposed to happen asking where the heck we were, he was here for his surprise party, where were we??? From then on, to me, he was no longer Peck. His new name? Wreck.

The pressure was on. I had promised something fun. Something great. Especially after his 40th was essentially ignored. A three week old Alice is a good excuse as any though.

He knew something was up. (I kept erasing the history on the computer so he wouldn't see "Mike's Surprise 40th birthday party (a year late)" pop up under my evite account. I think that might have clued him in.)

In order to get him to the Fickle Pickle (a restaurant in downtown Roswell) for the surprise, I had to weave a web of intricate, fantastic lies. (i.e. a private wine tasting, a night at the Ritz, decoy packed suitcases, pretend babysitters) Oh, it was involved.

And I am a terrible liar and I have NO poker face.

But, it worked! His mom, dad, and brother all came in from NY. My family, the girls, 25 or so friends were all there to celebrate his birthday. And it was great.

We walked into our "private wine tasting" to the curly haired 4 year old screaming surprise and running to hug her daddy. Who was shocked. And touched. And then ready to party.

Definitely worth a little bit of a tummy ache.

Thanks to everyone for coming, for keeping it a secret, to my mom and dad who decorated for me, Mike's family for making it so special, Drago for taking pictures, the Riepes for being big fat liars with me, the Roberts (Keith and Amy) for getting him out of the house on Saturday. You all rock.

Some shots of the night.

Heading out to the "wine tasting". Ella picked my flower for me.


My mom and dad, the girls, Mike and his mom


My mom, sister and the boss.


Joe and Mike's brother checking out one of the many mustachioed, shirtless pictures of Mike that were used as table centerpieces. (I am such a jerk. But, hey, you grow a mustache in '86, you pay the price in 2009, dude.)


Jill, Michelle and I. The first picture of us, together, that we are not sweating in. We clean up nicely, huh? ;)


Andrew doing one of the many imitations of previously mentioned mustachioed/shirtless pictures of a 20 year old Mike.

Questions

Life with a four year old, well at least with my four year old, is rife with questions.

Why? Why? Why? Why?

All day long.

Don't get me wrong. I love the inquisitiveness. I applaud it, Ella. But, man, sometimes I just don't know the answer. Or I do, but you shouldn't.

A few recent examples...

When are you going to die, Mommy? (OMG. How DO you answer this??? I fumbled my way through a "very, very long time from now when everyone is really, really old" kind of answer.)

Do babies come out of your fanny? (Hmmm....where do YOU think they come from, E? Close...)

How a baby get in your tummy, Mommy? (Seriously, seriously...YOU'RE 4!! I thought I had way more time to come up with something for this one.)

Why does Alice throw her food on the floor? (Me: you know, E. I don't know why!) Ella - When her two, and can talk, I gonna ask her.

Who going to carry me to heaven when I die? God, Jesus or Mary? I want Mary 'cause I not shy of her 'cause her a mommy. (I couldn't really even touch this one. Just agreed with her that Mary does seem really nice.)

Wow. She's going to wear me out. Then make me cry.

"C'mere! I want to ask you about life, death, religion and birth! Okay???"


Aside from E's endless barrage of questions. I have a ton about my next race floating around in my head lately. USAT Nats is in 2 weeks. Has me wondering...

Am I going to finish dead last in this race? (I am more than a little intimidated by this "you had to qualify to even register for the race" race.) Jen assured me that I won't be last. Phew.

Is all this hard (seriously HARD!) work that Jen's been throwing on Training Peaks for me going to make me faster? Faster than my last Oly in Chattanooga? Faster than at least one girl in the 30-34 AG? Faster than a speeding bullet?

Am I going to be fine with going away for the night while I race solo and Mike and the girls stay home? I just keep repeating to myself "it's less than 24 hours, less than 24 hours..."

Tuesday's View from the Trainer

My mom and dad (and their hot pink sign)


And me! (I like to pause this shot and watch it. Over and over and over. Haha.)


IronGirls Sprint was on TV on Sunday. I dvr'd it downstairs and watched it (again) today on the trainer. Nothing like seeing yourself go off the bike course and throw a fit on the bike in HD. (They didn't actually show that, it didn't seem to be the kind of human interest, feel good, angle that they were looking for. This year.:) At least my mom and dad are official celebrities now.