Icrazy

My ever present to do list is way too long for my lazy self this week.

I am such a list nerd, I make one daily and one for the week and then happily (geekily?) check stuff off as it gets done. (Admission...sometimes, I even add something to the list that is already done and not on there, just to add it, then check it off. Ah...the satisfaction, then the shame. I mean, who does that?!?)

Does my nerdiness know no bounds?

My penchant for uber organization took a hard hit last week.

My iphone apparently had enough of ifart, syrupy kid fingers, getting dropped 348 times, and playing the soundtrack to "Annie" over and over. It committed isuicide. In a puddle. Just jumped out of my pocket. Ended it all.

I thought I would be fine with a regular phone. I tried.

A no frills Samsung just wouldn't cut it. I couldn't even bring myself to charge the the thing. It would be like claiming ownership. Which I clearly was not ready to do.."YOU ARE NOT MY PHONE. YOU SUCK SO BAD, I BET YOU DON'T EVEN KNOW HOW TO TEXT." I hissed at the poor little guy.

Less than 24 hours later, I was still lost. I couldn't call anyone to help. (My iphone did all the phone number remembering for me). I didn't know what to do. (That is ical's job to tell me my schedule.) I couldn't even play The Smiths to help deepen my depression. (My iphone IS my ipod. Waah.)

I'd had enough. Apple Store here I come. Watch out you mac geeks....someone had better have my isanity ready for me, momma needs her fix of apps, visual voicemail, internet, email at my fingertips. STAT.

Seriously, until it was gone...I had no idea how much I relied on that thing.

Embarrassingly sad, I'll admit.

Some pics of the girls and spring, neither sad nor embarrassing. (And taken with my super useful new iphone!)



"I picked these flowers (weeds) for my dad."


Babe Ruth?

Zone 0

*Zones one through five all hurt.

(*Heart rate zones, for those of you who are not triathlon nerds. This means you, mom.)

On some level, they are all uncomfortable. (Okay, maybe not Z1, but honestly, when does a Z1 run ever appear in training peaks?)

Jen's article got me thinking.

Thinking about a few things...

Like, I definitely have the right coach for me. Amazing, considering the little to no research I did before contacting Jen last March for coaching. I liked her blog. That was reason enough for me at the time. I wish all my impulse based decisions worked out that well. Eating half a bowl of brownie batter last weekend, another example of my snap second decision making abilities.

You can't win 'em all.

But, anyway, I was talking about HR Zones, how they hurt and stuff.

Jen's article got me thinking about downtime. How we relax. Decompress. Zone out.

Zone 0

My Z0 consists of lots of things...things I love, things that allow my head and body to rest. An exhausting hobby + motherhood demands some downtime. Therefore, most Z0 activities take place with the computer on my blanket covered lap, butt firmly planted on the couch.

Facebook...I love my FB. Love it. I am so not a phone person, but like to keep in touch, so this works much better for me.

Blog reading.

Blog writing (although, I do feel a bit devoid of inspiration lately. Kind of explains the meager posting as of late.)

Athleta/Title Nine/Lululemon online drooling/shopping.

Design magazine buying/tearing out pages of what I like. Funny, never really interested me before we bought the new house. Now I am borderline obsessed. The "Cottage Styles" and "Traditional Homes" might now outnumber the "US Weeklies" and "Triahtlons". Weird.

Reading -- this is strictly a before bed Z0 activity. Reading makes me sleep. Could use some suggestions as I am re-reading "Midwives" by Chris Bohjalian for the 3rd time right now, just because it was there.

Baking -- cookies, brownies, cakes, muffins, etc. Love it all. Mike really hampers me here since all he ever wants is chocolate chip cookies. Even for his birthday. No cake, just cookies. Weird.

Ahh....Zone 0. I am feeling more relaxed already.

Some pics of the girls.

E and her latest "As Seen on TV" acquisition. The Egg Cracker. (I had no idea that cracking eggs was such a difficult task in the first place...)


And Alice who is severely offended by the chocolate drool on her foot. That came from her mouth.

The Sun Will Come Out

It is time.

Time to mother%^$#*& work. Work on the bike. Work in the pool. Work on the run. Work in the weight room. (That should probably be "work" in the weight room. 'Cause as much as I try, I still hate that stuff.)

70.3 flat, windy, hot (mother%^&*$% hot) miles to cover in May are a little more than 12 weeks away.

The work doesn't stop there.

The house is now officially for sale. We're moving a mile away in mid April. So until April, this house, to quote Miss Hannigan (my apologies, but E is on a huge "Annie" kick as of late) "better shine like the top of the Chrysler building!"

It's a hard knock life.

Well, not really. The new house is awesome and I can't wait to move, but trying to clean, straighten and put away while two tiny people follow right behind you systematically dismantling everything you just folded, swept and windexed can be trying.

Even more so, when say you just finished hard run or a 3 hour brick and all you want to do is eat, shower and sleep. And you know, none of those is happening anytime soon.

I think I can understand where Miss Hannigan was coming from. Maybe she was trying to sell the orphanage while 70.3 training? And all those dancing and singing orphans just kept making messes?

It's possible....

Hmmm...now E's singing under her breath after I told here we are no longer allowed to jump on the made beds EVER again...."'steada treated, we get tricked. steada kisses, we get kicked!" all makes sense.

TOMORROW. TOMORROW...I LOVE YA.

(Who wouldn't? It's a rest day.)

Earning it

Triathlon is stuff-intensive. The whole three-sportiness of it all, I guess.

Bike, bike shoes, helmet, sunglasses, running shoes, , tri top, tri shorts, bathing suit, goggles, swim cap, wetsuit, bike trainer,.

And that stuff is just the basics.

You get a little better, a little faster, a little more knowledgeable and now you want...no, you need..

a coach. those sweet zoot racing flats. a polar heart rate monitor (but not the cute girly one that you already got suckered into buying 'cause it was baby blue. no lap buttons on that p.o.s. this new one is big, black and kind of ugly, but actually functional for splits) oh, yeah, gotta have that garmin. Compression socks (that new coach is making your legs really sore.)

Your "triathlon drawer" starts to take over the entire closet. You consider in your imminent move making the extra closet in the master "just for workout stuff" okay, sweetie?

You're gonna need more room for....

Racing wheels. Road bike. Speed suit. Power meter. Aero helmet. Computrainer. Masters swimming. Compression tights.

Just kidding about those last few things....

As much as I would welcome all that stuff (oh yeah, you=me in this post.), I don't really think I've earned it yet. I am not fast enough.
Yet.

I didn't get Copas ($100 cleats at the time) until I made the state soccer team. After playing for 11 years.

But, man, were those some sweet cleats.

Chattahoochee Challenge 10K Race Report

Ahh....I love being done with races.

Do I love racing them? Sometimes.
Do I love training for them? Most of the time.
Do I love the morning of races? Absolutely not.

This was my first race of 2010. And in my strange quest to constantly beat myself, there was some extra pressure. I was fighting off nerves all week....for a 10k! Sheesh. This morning was full of "my chest hurts, bronchitis for sure", "my stomach hurts, ow."...etc, etc, etc.

Goal? Beat 44:18. My time from last year on this same course.

This race could not be easier for me to get to, or more comfortable. I train on these roads all the time. Flat and fast. Only if they could actually make it 6.2, instead of 6.29 miles (that extra .09 really makes a HUGE difference if say, you might be dry heaving since you kicked too early....not sayin' that I did that, doesn't sound like me at all.) ;)

Warm up with Jill and Andrea. So nice to have friendly faces at races. (Congrats to both of them for PR's and 2 and 3 in their AG!)

And.....(insert nervous girl talk about the increasing hotness of Michael Vartan and waning hotness of Bradley Cooper)...GO!

Miles 1-4, my goal was to stay around 7:00. Just maintain, don't be dumb and go out too hard. I love you, Garmin. I would have totally messed this up without the constant reminder to slow the eff down. I knew I would regret it later if I pushed too early.

Mile 1 - 7:03
Mile 2 - 6:52 (whoops)
Mile 3 - 6:58
Mile 4 - 7:04 (ow)

I was trying to fool myself into thinking that the real race started at mile 5. The first 4 miles were just a warm up. Get to 5. Get to 5. Get to 5 and then GO! Well, getting to 5 and GOING really just meant, getting to 5 and maintaining. Totally fine. I pushed as hard as I could until the dry heaves came. (They always come.) Then done!

Mile 5 - 6:57
Mile 6 - 6:57

43:50/Avg. pace 6:59
10th OA/1st AG


32 year old me was taken down. Slow whippersnapper.

Jill, Andrea and I took home some sweet necklaces.

Halfsies

1.5
4.5
and 70.3

Respectively pertaining to Alice's age, Ella's age and the amount of miles I hope to cover as fast as possible at Gulf Coast.

We're all going halfsies lately.

Like a lot of my bloggy friends, this blog is my defacto training diary/baby book. Such a strange (yet fitting) combination....kind of like the mommy/triathlete combo, too.
Strange, yet fitting. For me, at least. :)

Baby book time...

Alice at one and a half is a pistol.


That's the best word to describe her short, little, sassy self. Full of it. Funny. Loves to dance. She thinks "no" means "yes" and it cracks us up, a lot. "Alice...do you want a cookie?" "no." "Alice...do you want to play?" "no." Likes to race. As in "ready. set. GO!" and she "runs". She thinks walking around with her eyes closed is a good idea. That or with a blanket on her head. Then BAM! hits the wall and cries and does it again. Again, cracks us up, a lot.


Ella at 4 and a half is awesome. I can't believe how big she is now. Tall and skinny. (Where the heck did she get THAT from?!?) All her pants are always too short, 'cause she is growing out of them so fast (in stark contrast with her sister, who is ALWAYS too short for her pants.) E is the queen of "As Seen on TV". She has the brownie pan, the hands free toothpaste dispenser, the pillow pet and is begging for me to get "Your Baby Can Read" for Alice. (Not that she can read, but she's ready to teach Alice.) "But, Mommy, Alice could read!!!", like I am being a negligent mother by not buying that piece of crap. Alice's hobbies: Walking into walls. Falling down stairs. Yelling for cookies. Reading Tolstoy.

Both are the most perfect, beautiful children. In the world. Ever.

Just my unbiased opinion.

Training log time...
I am so excited for Gulf Coast. Already. I have months of training to go, but I feel so far ahead of where I have been in any February. I just do what Jen tells me (or try to do what she tells me at the very least) and trust it. I love that. I know she's getting me ready to rock. And that rocks.

I am behind.

Behind on the laundry. (Not that I am ever really ahead on the laundry, but right now, there may be small animals hibernating in the laundry baskets for all I know...or care. I hope at least they're small dogs. Alice really likes dogs.)

Behind on blogging. (Meghan threatened me with physical violence on Facebook if I did not update my blog. Extreme, especially considering I see her every day. She could just ask what is going on with me instead of the punch to my face that she promised would come my way. )

Behind on my workouts. (I missed a few last week. I HATE THAT. This week, all are done. But, then again, it is Wednesday. Big Whoop. Plenty of time left to eff it all up and sleep through my swim or bag the run. Fighting against that scenario though.)

What is taking up all my time, you ask?

Well, besides getting the equivalent of graduate degree in all things "Jersey Shore" (like crack, I must say), my time been has fairly evenly split between Snooki, Pauly D and closet cleaning. Then packing boxes. Then repeat. Ad infintum.

Yep. We're moving.

A whole mile away. Literally, it can't be more than a mile. Same neighborhood. Just a different house.

One that works a little better for us. Open floor plan as opposed to our current one where I can't see any kids from anywhere unless they are literally climbing up my legs to cry and whine and/or screaming bloody murder in some far off corner of the house where after a full on sprint I realize the cause to be Alice is unable to take the child proof caps off the dog's medicine to ingest it as she desires, a nightly scenario.

YAHOO for the new house. YAHOO for open floor plans. YAHOO for an actual laundry room. YAHOO for the second staircase off the master bedroom that the house inspector called the "Jon Benet stairs".

Wait, scratch that last part.

Whatever, this is Atlanta, not Boulder. And I am so excited. Like, dreaming-about-it-at-night-excited. Like, I am-sure-the-current-owner-is-about-to-call-the-cops-on-me- 'cause-he-knows-my-car-and-I-drive-by-about-once-a-day-just-to-see-it excited.

Move is in mid March/early April. From now until then, I will be like Eminem....cleaning out my closet. (That's where the similarity ends though...no misogynistic rapping, Moby feud starting, slapping my mom with a lawsuit outta me. Unless you cross me, Mom.)

It's been too long. Some recent shots....

Alice is happy to help clean the floor for the move. But, apparently, not her mouth.


E's pumped for the new house as well. The new pool table and creek in the yard sealed the deal for her.


Alice's "ankles", if you can call them that. She was standing next to me today and I just had to take a picture of the chub. It will soon be gone and I will forget how exquisite they were.


Mike's really excited about the new house, too. And I think this Wii tennis shot really shows how excited he is that we have a new house and have not yet sold our current house. So exciting for Mike. Yessir. :)


Me. Excited for the house and to be swimming in a suit that does not show everything to everyone in the pool like my suit that I wore all last week only to realize what the chlorine had done to the fabric...too late. Show's over LA Fitness.

The Competition

90% of my training is solo.

It has to be. I swimbikerun at odd times, my workouts are so specific, I have two little kids, blah, blah. There are REASONS. Good ones. I promise, I have friends. :)

Well, the 90% of the solo training time leaves me a lot of thinking time.

Dangerous.

And right now. In the cold, dreary winter. With my next triathlon 3 months away...

My favorite recurring training thoughts are of the girl I am going to beat next year.

Those thoughts make me smile.

A jerky smirk is more like it.

Those thoughts fuel me. They make my intervals faster, they keep me going when my body would prefer to sit on the couch watching "Jersey Shore" instead of running 12 miles in the rain. In January.

This girl is getting her a$$ handed to her at Gulf Coast. Left in the dust at John Tanner. Dropped like a hot potato at ING Half Mary.

The girl? Yeah, she's me. Last year.

2010 Kate's race plan? Kick 2009 Kate's ass.

2010 Kate is kind of a jerk. She's older AND faster.

Eat it, last year me.

Occupation

Race applications are digging deeper this year, it seems.

In addition to my name, age, address, estimated swim time, and money, they want to know my triathlon accomplishments (huh?), who is coming to the race to cheer for me (I put "Tiger Woods") and then the kicker, my occupation.

Good question, race director. Good freaking question.

You mean my job, right?

Homemaker? Nah. Sounds too much like I work construction. Plus, I feel it implies an expertise (cleaning, cooking fancy stuff, etc.) and interest (learning to clean and cook fancy stuff, etc.) that I lack.

I settled on "stay at home mom". Sounded accurate. Well, sort of. I am more of a "let's get out of this house before I go stir crazy" mom as opposed to one who stays. Cooking chateaubriand while scouring the baseboards.

Either way, it has been on my mind lately.

Got me thinking and realizing that it has been almost 5 years since the slight cramping in my 8th month of pregnancy with Ella hastened the (dreaded) bed rest and the end of my life in advertising. Just like that....poof!

Unemployed.
But, working.
Just not getting paid.

Strange job.
Awesome benefits.

I thought I would go back. Definitely at a year. Certainly at a year.

Then I became a mom.

And all my "ideas" of what I was going to do and what I should do changed. I thought they might. But, then again, I had no idea. I was too pissed that they gave my desk to someone else at work.

Everyone is different. Every family figures out what works for them. This works for us. Won't forever....when that time comes and I've been out of work for XX years, who knows what I will put down on my race apps???

'Cause you know, that is the most important thing. That and payback for whoever stole my damn desk five years ago.

Cold as *%$@

Yeah, it is that cold here. (Fake)cursing-in-a-blog-post-title cold.

My trusty iphone, who accompanies me on most every run, told me that it was colder here in Georgia, than it was in Winston-Salem (believable) AND Boston (WHAT?!?!).

Single digits are in the forecast.

(Where are my damn gloves? I knew I had a pair somewhere around here??)

Seems like yesterday that my phone had enough of the heat. The error message, "TOO HOT. OVERHEATING. WILL SHUT OFF. GET OFF THE BLACK TRACK IN THE AFTERNOON, YOU DUMBA$$" flashed right before the thing shut off until I got it back in the air conditioning.

Temperamental apple products.

I know, I know...we are not really cold like say, the midwest is cold. (Jen, Angela...you can just stop reading my whines now.) But, we are cold for the South.

(This carseat does NOT fit with that puffy jacket, Alice. And Ella, where is your hat? You HAVE to wear your hat. NON NEGOTIABLE, kid.)

It is really not that bad when you're used to it, and I used to be used to it. Born in Chicago, grew up in NJ. I've had my fair share of snow and ice. But, I don't expect it here. Don't want it. Don't remember how to dress for it. Don't even really have the right clothes to even do it if I wanted to.

I don't own a real winter coat. Fleece doesn't count. I had to make a very necessary scarf detour at the start of my long run yesterday...I thought my face was going to freeze off. (When running in the cold, "your lungs WILL NOT freeze" always goes through my head thanks to my winter track HS coach.) Biking outside is out of the question (and honestly it is until March, at the earliest for me). Hello, trainer.

I am too cold weather dumb to attempt riding when it is below um, 60?

My lungs would definitely freeze then. It's true. Promise.

Unrelated pics of my girls. I have some wintry ones that would make sense, but my computer is too full (damn apple, again) to load them. Instead, here's of my girls making fun of the way I smile. And the 17 month old started this. No kidding.


And here is one of many examples of the girls eating like dogs. Again, this trend can be attributed to Alice. (Although she wouldn't comply for the picture. Go figure.) Woof.