Be back soon, once I wipe this dazed, slightly crazy look from my face. :)
Friday, April 16, 2010
Still here....
...without Internet, mid-move and slowly losing (1)most everything in the house, (2)my patience and (3)my mind...therefore, the blog took an (extended) spring break hiatus.
Be back soon, once I wipe this dazed, slightly crazy look from my face. :)
Be back soon, once I wipe this dazed, slightly crazy look from my face. :)
Wednesday, March 31, 2010
Spring...in pictures
Since a picture is worth a thousand words and I am too lazy to write even close to that many, this is what this lazy blogger has been up to lately.
Ice skating. This smile is post falling-down-then-throwing-her-hat-on-the-ice, yelling "I QUIT!" x3. Good times.
Alice (with my dad) watched while working on perfecting the exact shade of tomato-red in her cheeks that makes it hard for me to believe that she doesn't have a fever. 98.6 every time.
Soccer! Go Wolverines. We consider soccer a success when (1)there are no tears from #12 (2)there is at least one dog at practice for Alice to squeal about.
Soccer happy dance.
I spend a lot of time making messes in the basement.
Hours on the trainer seems to have pissed off my wrist. A bone spur (aka carpal boss) is the reason for my newest fashion statement.
First outdoor ride of the season on the books for tomorrow. Woo hoo!
Picnic time.
I think that was at least 1543 words.
Ice skating. This smile is post falling-down-then-throwing-her-hat-on-the-ice, yelling "I QUIT!" x3. Good times.
Alice (with my dad) watched while working on perfecting the exact shade of tomato-red in her cheeks that makes it hard for me to believe that she doesn't have a fever. 98.6 every time.
Soccer! Go Wolverines. We consider soccer a success when (1)there are no tears from #12 (2)there is at least one dog at practice for Alice to squeal about.
Soccer happy dance.
I spend a lot of time making messes in the basement.
Hours on the trainer seems to have pissed off my wrist. A bone spur (aka carpal boss) is the reason for my newest fashion statement.
First outdoor ride of the season on the books for tomorrow. Woo hoo!
Picnic time.
I think that was at least 1543 words.
Thursday, March 25, 2010
Doubt
The nasty little bugger crawled in my ear this weekend.
That was a bad race you had there, lady. (Yes, I call myself lady.) You sure you're ready to hurt for 70.3 miles? That was just 13.1 and you didn't handle it all that well, ya know?
Maybe you should just stick to the short stuff? You know, 5k's and 10k's and sprints and Oly's. Leave the longer stuff to the people that are good at it. Not you.
It's like an infection.
It is spreading now. Making my legs tired and my mind weak.
The only cure I know is more racing. And good racing. Smart racing. Fast racing.
I plan on starting myself slowly on a therapy of "following training peaks to a tee" and "not wussing out during any of my key runs and bikes".
That should kick it. No doubt.
That was a bad race you had there, lady. (Yes, I call myself lady.) You sure you're ready to hurt for 70.3 miles? That was just 13.1 and you didn't handle it all that well, ya know?
Maybe you should just stick to the short stuff? You know, 5k's and 10k's and sprints and Oly's. Leave the longer stuff to the people that are good at it. Not you.
It's like an infection.
It is spreading now. Making my legs tired and my mind weak.
The only cure I know is more racing. And good racing. Smart racing. Fast racing.
I plan on starting myself slowly on a therapy of "following training peaks to a tee" and "not wussing out during any of my key runs and bikes".
That should kick it. No doubt.
Monday, March 22, 2010
ING Half Marathon Race Report
This is my third time racing the ING half course.
2007 was just a training run for Ironman. I didn't race it, ran with Mike's family, had fun, enjoyed it. 1:47
2009 it was an "A" race for me. My first big post Alice race back. I struggled. Just not my day. 1:41
2010...third time was NOT the charm. I was hoping for under 1:40 and was going to do my best to hang on to 7:20's for a 1:36.
I was a little off. 1:51
Wowza.
All was good until Mile 9. I was pushing up the hills and recovering on the downhills, per Jen's instructions on "how to run even splits on a hilly course." It was not feeling easy or effortless, but I was hanging in there. Each hill push was accompanied by the all too familiar "I am going to puke" feeling that I get at the end of 5 and 10k's. When I cannot go any harder. And I am sprinting. All out.
I was not going that hard.
I was not sprinting.
Yet, I was puking.
Exited Piedmont Park and hurled all over the sidewalk. And again. And again.
Yes, I was that person on Sunday.
My mile splits were no longer even. Mile 9? A blistering 11:33. Zoom.
And now my shoes had vanilla powergel puke on them. Which, sadly, does provide any additional energy to your feet.
The 4.1 miles to the finish was a long, slow, spectacular KA-BOOM! I was hoping to rally and feel better after the show I put on at mile 9.
Nope.
Not today. Not this year. Not on this course.
EffING ING.
Next year you're mine.
(The appearance of a fever yesterday and the reappearance of my breakfast this morning could not have been more welcome. Yay for a stomach virus. Yay for puking. Anything that could reasonably explain the disaster that was my race was much welcomed.)
2007 was just a training run for Ironman. I didn't race it, ran with Mike's family, had fun, enjoyed it. 1:47
2009 it was an "A" race for me. My first big post Alice race back. I struggled. Just not my day. 1:41
2010...third time was NOT the charm. I was hoping for under 1:40 and was going to do my best to hang on to 7:20's for a 1:36.
I was a little off. 1:51
Wowza.
All was good until Mile 9. I was pushing up the hills and recovering on the downhills, per Jen's instructions on "how to run even splits on a hilly course." It was not feeling easy or effortless, but I was hanging in there. Each hill push was accompanied by the all too familiar "I am going to puke" feeling that I get at the end of 5 and 10k's. When I cannot go any harder. And I am sprinting. All out.
I was not going that hard.
I was not sprinting.
Yet, I was puking.
Exited Piedmont Park and hurled all over the sidewalk. And again. And again.
Yes, I was that person on Sunday.
My mile splits were no longer even. Mile 9? A blistering 11:33. Zoom.
And now my shoes had vanilla powergel puke on them. Which, sadly, does provide any additional energy to your feet.
The 4.1 miles to the finish was a long, slow, spectacular KA-BOOM! I was hoping to rally and feel better after the show I put on at mile 9.
Nope.
Not today. Not this year. Not on this course.
EffING ING.
Next year you're mine.
(The appearance of a fever yesterday and the reappearance of my breakfast this morning could not have been more welcome. Yay for a stomach virus. Yay for puking. Anything that could reasonably explain the disaster that was my race was much welcomed.)
Tuesday, March 16, 2010
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?
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?
Thursday, March 4, 2010
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.
(*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.
Thursday, February 25, 2010
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.)
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.)
Wednesday, February 17, 2010
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.
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.
Saturday, February 6, 2010
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.
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.
Tuesday, February 2, 2010
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.
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.
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