While baking with Maga was a treat, it is not an unusual practice in our house.
The kitchen is the center of our home.
The girls jockey for position to help cook meals. Part of the reason why vegetables have made such a big resurgence on our dinner plates is that the girls can easily help prep them. Peeling corn, snapping beans, picking tomatoes and prepping salads are all proven and fulfilling toddler-preschooler activities.
But just in case anybody forgets the drill, Grace has taken it upon herself to create some signage.
Oh, and as an afterthought.....
To bad the person they are directed at can't read yet.
Race Type -1/2 Ironman Total Time - 7h 14m 21s Overall Rank - 250/390 Age Group - 35-39 Age Group Rank - 35/53
Race Report:
Headed to Deep Creek Saturday morning, with a quick stop in Westernport to see if I could make it up the Wall with the recently installed 11/28 cassette (I failed last month with a 25), made it fairly easily, so I had much more confidence going into Sunday. Packet pickup and racking were uneventful, and by the time I went and checked in at Wisp, it was time to head up to the Carb Dinner. The whole reception and dinner was great, good food, lots of friendly people, and Dave Scott was really down to earth and fun to talked too. I congratulated him on his upcoming victory over me. I didn't sleep very well, and was pretty much awake at 3:30, not cool when your race doesn't start until 8:45.
Swim: 38:41 | 1931 meters | 02m / 100meters
I pretty much focused my swim training on being comfortable for the distance, and not setting the world on fire. I wouldn't say it felt great getting in the water, but it was sure as hell better than standing out in the air.
Normal tumbling at the start, also, realized about five minutes in that I had forgotten to start my watch. Oops. Made it to the turtle turnaround much faster than I had expected, then coming back to the second turnaround at the Swan there was some chop that was a little distracting, but nothing serious.
What would you do differently?: I did the required distances in training, however I've never really done the training sets that make you a faster swimmer. I really should if I want to stop being a back of pack swimmer.
T1:06:49
So running out of the water I had the first of many silly conversations with myself. I was so numb from the water, I actually thought I might be warm enough to avoid most of the extra clothing I had for the bike. Fortuantely, the small part of my brain that contains intelligence said, "Hey, see that smoke coming out of your mouth? That means it is still cold dummy." Hence the long transition time, drying off as much as possible, putting on bike pants and jersey over my trisuit, and finally arm warmers and gloves. I did not regret using any of these items.
What would you do differently?: Maybe just bring a Snuggie to wear and avoid clothing volume?
Bike: 04:01:59 | 56 miles | 13.89 mile/hr
You would think that as hard as the bike course is, any nerves or excitement would be concerning all of the hills, not just one of them. But I'm a guy, and thus, inherently dumb, so all I could think about was the Wall. What if I don't make it? Will that ruin my day? Will I curse the poor volunteers for their grievous sin of helping me get up? Despite all of these thoughts, I managed to multitask and pedal the bike at the same time. Those first 18 miles are downright pleasant, except for that Wall voice in my head.
So, here we go. Passed into Westernport and headed up the small ramp a block or two before the start of the Wall. I shifted to my small front chainring, and of course, the chain wouldn't catch. Panic time. Fumbled blindly with my shifters, and thankfully, somehow, it caught. Then you turn the corner, and it's time for the four block adventure. If they don't already, I think they should have someone recording expressions as riders get their first look up the Wall. Audio might be nice too. I did the first three blocks with a couple gears to spare, then put it into the 28 for the final part. I could hear the noise, and part of me noticed the crowd, but for the most part I just talked/screamed at myself. Here's what the conversation was like over the last block:
Voice 1:"Okay dummy, spin real fast now and stay to the right."
Voice 2:"I don't think I can do this."
Voice 1:"Shut up. Look, that guy that fell to your left, he's blocking everyone else from getting in your way."
Voice 2:"Thanks Voice 1, I think we might do this!"
Voice 1:"Crap, that other guy just fell in your preferred line, veer left right here towards the top and go over that big pothole!"
Voice 2:"WHAT?!?"
And then I was at the top. The race is over, right? I pumped my fist to the crowd and everything, so it's time to go home.
No, not exactly. But I will say, it was an awesome feeling, and I'm really looking forward to seeing the video to see if it really was as crazy as it seemed at the time.
Now it was time to assess things. The clothing drop was just ahead, but honestly the sun hadn't come out and it was chilly enough that my lungs were burning pretty good. I decided to keep everything with me, and it ended up being a good decision. Then, the long slog up Big Savage. Nothing memorable, other than the repeated conversations everyone had on the way up asking whether you had gotten your brick.
I made my biggest mistake of the day at the top of the climb. At the aid station, I got a bottle of water and some salt pills. In juggling both I managed to lose the water bottle, which went spiraling back down the hill. Winning the "Worst Idea Ever" award, I decided I should just keep going and stick it out to the next aid station. It's only 14 miles, right? Never mind there are three really nasty climbs in between. Fortunately (not that I deserved it) I was saved by Ronna, who I talked to for all while on the gentle climb before McAndrew. Besides being really nice in general, she gave me one of her bottles. I suppose now I have to do something nice for someone someday. Although I didn't get to see Ronna finish, I did manage to sneak into her transition area to return the bottle afterwards (it was a nicer, fancy one).
McAndrew and Otto were not bad at all, just grinding out the climb, and then I saw my favorite sign of the day, already mentioned in another race report, "Don't Look Left!". On my training ride last month I didn't think Killer Miller was too bad. Not the case today. Several people were walking their bikes up, and my quads were starting to get that special tingle that meant I was on the verge of serious cramps. There were some good crowds on the ascent though, and that really helped keep me going. Made it to the aid station and actually managed to hang on to the bottle this time. Yay team.
Maynardier wasn't too much of a problem, and I felt I was pretty good to go, until mile 47 when I hit this tiny little hill, and decided to stand in the pedals for just a second or two to stretch things out. Oops. Both quads seized at once. It was bad. "Might not finish the race" kind of bad. Somehow the cramps eased up, and I didn't have to walk the rest of the bike and half marathon doing a double peg-leg stumblefest. I had been hoping to finish the bike leg under 4 hours, but especially given the scare towards the end, I was just glad to get through in one piece.
What would you do differently?: Not a thing.
T2: 02:21
That's more like it. Since I had already put my arm warmers and gloves in my jersey, I just had to take the jersey and bike pants off, change shoes, and out the door I went.
What would you do differently?: Wait a week before coming back to do the half marathon.
Run: 02:24:34 | 13.1 miles | 11m 02s min/mile
I saw coming in that two break seven hours I'd have to do better than 10 minute miles. I knew it was possible, I just didn't know if it was possible today. I felt great the first two miles, and then my legs started playing a game called "Guess Which Part Will Hurt Next?". Nothing consistent, just roving aches and pains throughout, with an occassional back spasm for good measure. At the aid stations I took on salt, alternated water and Heed, even had some pretzels at one point. I think I was averaging under 10 minute miles for the first half of the loop, but then I hit the fire road. I really did plan on running up it, I swear I did. But when there is someone walking up ahead of you, and you're not catching them while "running", you kinda need to reassess priorities. So, I walked up the last half, then started running again. One funny moment just before mile 6, a spectator shouted (encouragingly) that I was almost done, and her friend chastised her, since you never know if someone is on their first or second lap. I just smiled and said I'd see them in an hour or so. I finished my first loop in about 1:08, so I knew sub-seven hours wasn't happening. Oh well.
Second lap was pretty consistent with the first, although a little slower. This is primarily since I now walked up 3/4 of the fire road. I was feeling ok, and actually passed some people those last few miles. I tried to stay lighthearted, saying goodbye to everyone I'd seen the first time around, and letting that girl (now at mile 12) that it was ok to tell me I'm almost done now. Happily the last mile or so of the run is flat, which was a huge relief at that point since you never get completely comfortable with giant hills that want to destroy your soul. Crossed the finish line, feeling really spent, sore, but overall ok. Nice touch that they had the finish line tape up for me, makes us slow folks feel a little bit prouder.
What would you do differently?: It was what it was. As you'll read below, there is a likely reason I wasn't as fast as I could have been.
Post race
Warm down: Right after finishing BT'r SBRDave found me, having finished well before I did and hearing my name coming down the finish chute. We talked for a bit while I ate a sandwich (great post race food and ice cream by the way). I even got to take a shower after packing up to head home, so I didn't have to drive for three hours feeling like a dirty salt lick.
What limited your ability to perform faster: Yeah, this is the real fun part. I arrived home at around 8PM, and shortly thereafter my wife started exhibiting symptoms of a stomach bug. Same symptoms hit me at 1AM, and it was party one from there, so I assume it was something we caught Friday or Saturday that blew up Sunday night. Did it affect me? No idea, but either way I don't think it kept me from that podium spot.
Event comments: Simply the best supported, organized, and fun race I have ever done. My biggest regret is that I didn't get to fully take in the weekend and enjoy the area. I think I'll do the 70.0 again, but what I really think would be fun would be to run the Olympic on Saturday and then volunteer on Sunday. I've become a bit complacent in my race reporting over the last year or two, this is the first race report in a while that I was excited about writing.
At the beginning of summer, I planted three string-bean plants. They were small, scrawny little things. I was positive that they wouldn't grow, but Grace was on a bean kick and who am I to deny her green vegetables?
It took a long time for them to grow. We were producing red tomatoes before the plants had even climbed to the top of their trellis. Then, suddenly, they sprung to life. I added a second cage to the trellis. Up, up, up they went.
I was so proud.
Alas, there were no beans. Shouldn't we have beans by mid-July? I saw a cousin facebook about here bean bounty weeks earlier. Our plants kept growing and growing though. The weight of the plants became too much. It toppled over onto our wood pile. The creeping vines overtook two of the cherry tomato plants. That was the end of July.
While surveying the damage of our structural collapse, I noticed these. Yea!
And over the next few weeks, it seems we have more little flowers than leaves on this monster of a plant.
And we have our first real bounty of home grown string-beans.
Grace at two and Clare threw hers on the floor. Matt ate them because he knows what is good for him. Me? I savored every bite.
Lately, Grace’s whole world has revolved around princesses.
In her world, princesses are the ultimate super hero. They dance and twirl and fly, always help those in need. Oh, and the best thing about being a princess? The clothes.
A few months ago, I found a cache of princess dresses and they became out potty training prizes. You peed in the potty? Pick a prize! What will it be? A dress, a wand, some sparkly shoes??
I don’t know if the dresses have really had anything to do with it (she had announced to me that she would no longer need diapers when she went to her new school ages ago), but Grace has been potty-trained for 2 full weeks now.
The feat required one more dress, the one dress that is missing from her extensive collection. The Princess and the Frog Tiana costume. And through the wonder that is the internet, we were gifted* a dress for her final reward from Wholesale Halloween Costumes.
It fit the bill perfectly. Twirly, girly and sparkly. It was everything I had hoped for and more than what Grace expected. She celebrated by watching the movie while wearing the costume.
And then, sly as a fox, edged over to ask what else she could to do earn more princess costumes.
Just keep smiling like this kiddo.
* Wholesalehalloweencostumes.com sent us the Princess and The Frog Tiana dress in exchange for the inclusion of the links you see above. Thank you!
It's only noticeable when I raise my eyebrows, and if I'm raising my eyebrows at you there is probably too much going on to notice an imperfection in my scull. I received it as a consolidation prize for walking / falling into the corner of the dishwasher when I was 3 years old. Shortly after that incident my mom signed me up for dance classes.
I will admit those classes served me well. I am a klutz to the extreme. I tend to look down when I'm walking to avoid tripping. The 10 years of tap-jazz-ballet-pointe, has spared me from a lot of injury that could have been much, much worse.
******
Case in point:
Clare's new hobby is throwing my cookbooks on the floor.
I will admit they are very colorful, ideally located at toddler height and ripe for tossing, so I can't really blame her. On Sunday night, I didn't immediately clean up her thrown book pile. I let it sit until after dinner. Grace was playing on the floor and I was carrying Clare down the single step to our slightly sunken family room. The books lay in our path just on the other side of that step. I was looking down at them. Grace called my name, and suddenly I was no longer looking down at them.
And I stepped on a banana peel book. One foot in motion on the sunken, wooden floored book and one foot stationary on the tile above. While holding a writhing 20lb child.
Was my thunk loud? Yes.
Am I injured? Yes.
Did I have enough grace not to drop the baby? YES!
******
And that, combined with her incessent begging lately, is the reason why Gracie will also be starting to dance classes on Tuesday.
The class is 20 minutes of tap, followed by 20 minutes of ballet, followed by 15 minutes of creative movement where I assume they just let the kids run around in circles and do the alligator on the floor. Her shoes came yesterday. A full test run was required.
Fully outfitted in tights, leotard and ballet slippers, she jumped into her daddy's arms for an impromptu Swan Lake-esque lift.
She then asked me how she actually does ballet, and I showed my little girl how to put her arms and feet into first and second position, complete with pliés.
Ahhhhh.
OK, maybe her enrollment in these classes are as much for me as they are her.
Some people celebrate Memorial Day as the start of summer.
We dace to a slightly different beat, patterned after arm splashes, spinning wheels and pounding feet. Our summer season starts with Matt’s first triathlon. This was Pocomoke weekend.
It was Matt’s 5th year running the race, and while he claims that the field was too slim, his endurance and ambition paid off. He placed 16th overall and 2nd in his age group, resulting in his first real metal.
While I was proud of him, my joy came from watching my girls soak up the sun and sand on the Ocean City beaches.
And our mass consumption of taffy and doughnuts of course.
I hate making New Year's resolutions. Have I said that before? Yeah, I have.
I make loose resolutions with plenty of wiggle room included. This helps to keep me from failing. This year, as in the past, I don't care about loosing weight. I would be nice, but whatever.
This year, I want to me more ACTIVE.
(So, though I don't necessarily care about the weight thing, this should be a nice side effect.)
So along that line of thought, we signed up for the local Road Runners club. Well, Matt signed up- but I didn't argue. AND I whole hearted agreed to participate.
On January 1st, I ran my first mile in three years. Wait, let me clarify, I power walked up a hill and then ran most of the way down it, which in my mind is better than just running the 1 mile. Plus, I didn't hurt myself like I did last time.
And you know what? It was OK. And you know what else? I'm going to do it again. Soon.
But you know what I won't be doing anytime soon? This. So don't even ask. It's not even on the radar.
And we will be an active family. That is resolute.
Clare is a breastfed baby. 100%. I am exceedingly proud of this fact.
Grace was a fight from the start. It took weeks of coaxing and effort to get her to breastfeed. At 5 months old she starting refusing to drink again. I have no idea why I didn't just go the route of pumping and then bottle feeding her. I think I tried and just couldn't produce enough. I know I took that as some sort of misguided failure on my part, so when she wouldn't breastfeed I gave her formula. Honestly though, I think she preferred the formula. At 7 months old, she began rejecting me completely so I gave up the fight.
Clare will be 7 months old next week. A 100% breastfed baby. She will drink expressed milk from bottles, but she prefers me. She took to me instinctively after birth and has never looked back.
****
From the stories I have heard, my birth was a traumatic one. My mom started hemorrhaging and was rushed to the hospital 5 weeks before her due date. Her c-section scar isn't the traditional hip bone to hip bone, it is belly button to pelvic bone, preformed without anesthesia.
She was unable to even consider breastfeeding me. It was 1978 anyway, so who's to say she would have even if given the choice. I do not question her decision at all. Formula was what was right for her to feed to both my brother and me. I really do believe that. It was my opinion before I ever had kids too. She, on the other hand, questions my decision to breastfeed at every turn.
****
Tonight, I discovered that Clare has sprouted her first tooth.
(Have I told you what an amazing baby she is? I knew she was teething, I could feel the hard edges behind her gums. But this tooth- I'm not quite sure when exactly it popped though. Not a peep from her, just solid nights of sleep and smiles galore. Business as usual.)
I discovered it because she bit me while nursing. Hard. One little edge of one little tooth, but it did damage. She and I will have to work out a new system. I think it will involve nipple callouses and cold packs on my end, with impish smiles of apology on hers.
When I shared the joyous news of new enamel with my mom though, her response? ...So does this mean you will finally stop breastfeeding or is she going to still be nursing when she is in high school?
****
I am lucky. I have supportive friends. The daycare teachers are beyond supportive, bordering on insistent. I work in a supportive environment. While many are surprised at my ability to keep a full time job and supply enough food for an ever increasing appetite, nobody seems to blink at the notion of my mammary glads fulfilling their intended purpose.
Gracie’s birthday – or the party on Sunday anyway – passed with a blur.
Literally.
We rented one of the carpet covered warehouse spaces filled with moon-bounces and assorted inflatable’s. Children flew from every corner and off every surface. Which is why, sometimes, they failed to bounce again without a brief interlude of tears.
See. Flying!
There is not a single picture that the party that is in focus.
OK - so this one is in focus- and it's climbing, not flying - but there was death defying tumbles (or belly slides) from the top rungs back to the base.
Even the birthday cake pictures are out of focus. Well, not the picture of the birthday cake itself. That is quite clear.
(Obviously) And my Curious George efforts were very well received- only to be outdone by the birthday cupcakes that I made for school on Tuesday.
Never before has my baking received so many complements. I’m more of a savories chef due to my lack of belief in pesky things like measuring spoons / cups / and directions in general. Thank you Martha Stewart for the chocolate chip cupcakes with chocolate chip frosting recipe.
True to our word, we did in fact get Gracie's new room together in a flurry this weekend.
And you know what? Totally worth it.
For the first time in weeks she not only fell asleep quickly in her bed, but slept soundly through the night. This morning, instead of the usual identifying cries announcing she is awake, she padded out of her room and into our bathroom. With a smile.
Here is the new - big girl - room.
As it looks right now....
As it will look when I create my polka-dots. (Cut me some slack on the artists rendering, OK? This took me a good 20 minutes to do.)
And the official big girl bed. Just high enough not to roll out, but low enough to scale out of.
I've always been a cynic when it comes to Matt's newly developed athleticism. I think to myself, How can running 10 miles make you feel better when you could just sit on your ass and eat a chocolate bar with me. That always makes me feel better!
I've been supportive, but rarely excited about the triathlons.
I was not excited about the Ironman. I was supportive by holding my tongue and telling him good job no matter what I was actually thinking.
Yesterday changed my mind. Not enough to want to participate or even encourage more insanity. Yesterday changed my mind about the human spirit.
This is not what I thought this blog post would be about when I imagined what I would write days ago. I thought then I would fill this page with anecdotes about how we whiled away the day while Matt sweated. I thought I would write little quips about amusing Matt moments. Yesterday, I learned that there is little amusing about Ironman distance triathlon.
Matt's day, and the day of those who finished with him, started early. The clock started ticking at 7 am while Grace and I were still at home. We arrived around 10 am and had our first Matt sighting around 1 pm. He says the waves during the swim were about 1.5 feet high and the wind was like a brick wall during the bike. I saw he was tired and frazzled during that first 1 pm stop to refuel his water bottles and food pockets, but was not effected myself yet.
I knew he was tired when he finished his 112 mile bike ride and hobbled into the tented area to change into running clothes. I willed him with every thing I had to come out of the tent. I knew if he had his running shoes on he would finish the race, because what is the point of starting if you weren't going to finish, right?
I panicked when he came back to the home base after the first of the 3 laps required to fulfill the 26.2 mile run. I could see he was sunburt, his face was white with sweat salts and his pace was slow. Gracie and I kissed him and sent him out for another 9 miles.
That is when I started to understand.
The sun was starting to set and the rain was beginning to sprinkle on and off. The winners were already finished as Matt started his marathon. Others were still coming in off their bikes as my husband was beginning his second loop.
When the skies were dark and the rain began to fall heavy, I rocked Gracie to sleep in her stroller shielded with umbrellas. I sat there watching faces. That's when I understood. When the already lack luster crowd support all but disappeared. I couldn't blame them. It was cold and windy and raining, but I refused to move to my car. I needed to watch faces and clap for each runner.
There was an old man, his leg said age 70, doing the full triathlon. I saw him coming in from a distance. His hobble was distinct even at 9:15 pm. I clapped for him. Way to go! You're almost there! I was so sure he was finishing. He was moving so slowly. At 9:30 he was back in front of me again. He wasn't done. He still had one more lap to complete. 9 more miles, alone in the pitch black rain.
That's when I cried.
The determination was unbelievable. His is a poignant story, but it is everyone's story. I finally understood that it is more about determination that fitness and conditioning. Nobody looked good as the finished the marathon. OK, the first few people to finish the thing looked good, but do they really count?
My prospective on the sport, and what it means to accomplish something like this, is forever changed. And while I knew I could always depend on Matt for anything, his show of sheer willpower and expression of mind over matter has forever changed my opinion of him. I now have proof that Matt will fight to the end no matter what the challenge is. And win.
The old man did in fact finish, 22 minutes before the cut off time of 11:59 pm.
And Matt? He can now call himself Ironman with a completion time of 14 hours and 57 minutes.
And our mass consumption of 
