So You Think You Can Swim

Do not try and learn to swim by reading about it in a book.

You will drown.

I can't make up my mind what's more confusing, the diagrams or the descriptions.  Fortunately, I already know how to swim so I recognize how ludicrous it is to think you can read a chapter on freestyle and then go dive in the water and do it.  Can you pick up a few tips on fine-tuning your stroke?  Yes.  Will you learn enough to keep you from dying a slow, horrible death?  No.

The swimming leg of the triathlon is the one I'm most nervous about.  As I mentioned, I can swim, quite well in fact, but I've never swam competitively.  Growing up, my mom often encouraged me to do so since I would play in the water far longer than my best friend (poor skinny thing had no body fat like me to keep him warm) and I loved every second of it.  Here's the thing though, my little secret;  I'm fairly terrified of water.

Swimming in a lake or pond is scary, of course, because of the murky water and the weeds brushing your kicking feet.  Just thinking about it gives me the willies.  Remember the underwater task from Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire?  I imagined grindylows decades before JK Rowling's chilling descriptions.

As for the ocean,  when I was about 12 my family was vacationing at the beach house of family friends.  One morning I was out joyfully jumping waves (all by myself since I was the oldest child and, once again, the best insulated against the screaming cold of the Pacific Northwest coast) when, out of nowhere, a distorted, black face appeared in the middle of a breaking wave thirty feet in front of me.  I was petrified, confronted by a real-life sea monster.  I couldn't breathe.  Probably only about 20 seconds passed before I figured out it was a seal, but those 20 seconds have haunted me ever since.

It doesn't help that I'm obsessed with shark attacks.  And crocodile attacks.  And alligator attacks.  Can you picture becoming a meal for one of those creatures?  I can.  In technicolor, with slow motion, and multiple camera angles.  (Damn you, Discovery channel.)  Horrifying.

You might assume I feel safe in a pool, but I don't.  You see, there are these drains....  Yes, it's true, the drains are, at most, a foot square, but their small size offers no comfort as I swim over them, my active imagination conjuring up all sorts of leviathans wriggling up through the drain holes.  Yes, I realize this is ridiculous, but there you have it.  It doesn't help that exerting myself in water causes panicky feelings as I struggle to take each gasping breath.  Amazingly, despite all this I do enjoy swimming in a pool.  It's fun.  And I'm rational enough to know if some nightmarish sea monstrosity did emerge from the depths of the pool drain, the chlorinated water would probably kill it before it had a chance to devour me.

Probably.


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Big Fat Spice

Yeah, they can barely sing and their lyrics are nonsense, but god help me, I love the Spice Girls.

You got a problem with that?

Girl Power*

You're welcome.

Oh, come on now.  You know as soon as I mentioned them you wanted to see a picture.

Seriously, I dare you to listen to Spice Up Your Life and not move.  Impossible.  If you claim you can do it well then, you, my friend, are a big fat liar.  Which reminds me of the point of this post...

I don't want to work out today.

I want to sit in my recliner, watch Project Runway (isn't this season fabulous?) and eat Chubby Hubby out of the container until my fingers go numb with cold and my spoon scrapes the bottom.

Nothing seems worth it today.  Not good health, not accomplishing a goal, not even rocking skinny jeans.  Nothing.

I don't remember what publication it was, but back in college I read an interview with the Spice Girls.  The only thing I recall about it was something that made me laugh out loud.  Melanie "Sporty Spice" Chisholm was lamenting her nickname.  She said (and I paraphrase) it's a lot of pressure to be "sporty" all the time and some mornings when her treadmill awaits her at 6:00a.m. she wishes she could just be Big Fat Spice.

HA!

Amen to that, sister!

Don't we all, Sporty?  Don't we all.

*Incidentally, while watching a few Spice Girl videos on youtube (all in the name of research, of course) it struck me how ironic it is that Victoria Beckham (nee Posh Spice) ended up being the most famous of the five since she didn't do anything except prance around in tiny dresses.  The other girls at least warbled verses here and there and busted a few real dance moves.  And now she's even more famous for... prancing around in tiny dresses.   I tell you what, that woman has got it figured out.  Forget the Dalai Lama.  I'm getting my life advice from Posh.

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My First Sports Injury!

Yesterday I had to visit Urgent Care and get a blood blister under my right second toenail lanced.  I'm in danger of losing the toenail.

Don't worry, it's not life threatening.  Just gross.  Turns out, probably because I do a lot of downhill running (can't be avoided where I live), my second toes are rubbing up against my shoes.  Doc said it's a common thing among runners, but it's usually the big toe that's affected.  In my case, my second toes are freakishly longer than my big toes so they are taking the beating (thanks for the mutant genes, Mom).   Doc advised filing down the toenails and taping them before running to keep them from sticking up as much.  He also advised trying shoes that are longer.  I've been thinking about getting new shoes anyway.  Maybe monkey feet.  More on that later.

Unexpectedly, I kind of enjoyed my doctor's visit.  He was chatty and asked if I am a "serious runner."  I hesitated a moment, but then confidently answered, "yes I am.  I'm training for a triathlon."  He seemed impressed, although a little less so when he realized I'm not an Ironman.  (Are you familiar with the Ironman Triathlon?  It's for crazy people.  The race is a 2.4 mile swim, 112 mile bike ride, and a full 26 mile marathon all completed back to back with no break.  I told you, cray-zee.  The event I plan on doing is a .47 mile swim, 12 mile bike ride, and 3.1 mile run.  Sane.)  Turns out he and his kids run too so he was telling me about some fun events in our state.  I felt a full-fledged member of the Runner's Brotherhood or, er, Sisterhood.  Personhood?  Anyway, I'm proud to feel like an athlete.

So I have to wear a bandaid for a few days.  I'm trying to be brave.  If I do lose the toenail it's supposed to come back.  In 4-6 months.  Thank goodness boot weather is almost here.

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And Now a Word on Chafing

Blows.



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A Few Thoughts on Being a Stay-at-Home Mom

I complain about my kids a lot and perhaps some are getting a false impression of how I feel about being a stay-at-home mom.   So, for the record, let me be very clear;  I absolutely love being a stay-at-home mom.  I can't imagine anything different.  I am doing the most important thing I will ever do with my life and I am acutely aware of that.  It's a relatively short span of time children are so dependent.  I grouse about it because raising children is absurdly complicated.

I'm going to be so bold as to suggest I am speaking for most stay-at-home parents when I say I do not feel I'm wasting my talents or biding time until I can do something truly worthwhile; after all what responsibility is more monumental than raising our future citizens?  Stay-at-home parents deserve as much respect for our work as anyone else, probably more.  Our issues are valid and we have earned the right to complain about them.  It doesn't mean we don't love our kids, regret putting careers on hold, are not capable, or are looking for a way out.  We're just exercising the inherent human right to bitch about our jobs.

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Lady Gaga Loves EVERYONE!

"And now, I'm just trying to change the world, one sequin at a time."
— Lady Gaga

I recently attended Lady Gaga's Monster Ball.  That woman can sing.  It was a complete spectacle, of course, not just her, but the crowd.  No one can out gaga Lady Gaga although many tried.  I think my favorite was the gentleman with gold, old-school telephone handset epaulets.  Clever.  I didn't dress too outrageously (I'm not brave enough to wear booty shorts in public), but did give myself a fauxhawk with moderate success.  I don't know if you are familiar with this particular hairdo, but it's a relatively simple style accomplished by ratting the hair and then cementing it in place with shitloads of hairspray.  I went to bed with it looking like this:

And woke up with it looking like this:

That's a lot of hairspray.

But I digress.

The reason I'm prompted to post about the Monster Ball is because it was a surprisingly uplifting experience.  I expected the party-carnival atmosphere and dance music, but I did not realize how life-affirming the lady herself would be.  She truly adores her fans and is not only an advocate for gays, lesbians, bisexuals, and transgendered persons, but also for artistic types and free-spirits who don't comfortably fit into any culturally accepted category.  She mentioned she was unpopular and picked on every day in high school (I'd love to be a fly on the wall at her 10 year reunion), but rather than succumbing to pettiness, she forged ahead manifesting her dreams.  She encouraged the audience several times during the show to love ourselves exactly how we were born and not give into the pressures of other people's expectations.  I couldn't help but be inspired and now my own "tight pants problem" seems trite and unworthy of attention.  

So I'm back, people!  From now on no more energy wasted worrying about what "could be" and only attention and focus paid to what is and will be.

                      

"I used to walk down the street like I was a fucking star... I want people to walk around delusional about how great they can be - and then to fight so hard for it every day that the lie becomes the truth."
— Lady Gaga  

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Depressed

I tried on the pants today.

I know, I know.

Stupidest idea ever.

I feel dreadful.  Fall is creeping up on us and when it arrives my wardrobe will consist of only tops.  Adorable tops, true, but I'm crushed when I think of all those bottoms I can't get my bottom in.  Thank heaven leggings are fashionable at the moment because unless I lose at least 10lbs those and yoga pants are all I'll be wearing when the cold weather descends.

I should say I knew last year when I bought new clothes it was likely I would gain some weight in the upcoming months.  Because of health issues I had to do this ridiculously strict elimination diet to rule out food intolerances.  I've never been one to easily lose weight, but the pounds melted off shockingly fast.  I actually got to the point where I thought I was too skinny and I never, ever thought I would think that.  So I wasn't opposed to fattening up a little when I began eating regularly again, but something somewhere in the past few months went horribly wrong because I'm heavier now then I have been in about 7 years (not counting pregnancies).
  
It's beyond frustrating because I'm in the best shape of my life for cripes sake!  And my eating habits are not bad for how active I am.  They are certainly better than they were 18 months ago.  Something's out of whack.  I am taking some medication at night to help me sleep and one of the possible side effects is unexplained weight gain.  That could be it, I guess, but I hope not.  Choosing between fat and sleep?  Yeah, no contest.  I'd rather be a fat, well-rested, normal person than a thin, crazed zombie.  Been there, done that.  I could just buy new pants, of course, I'm honestly not that unhappy with the way I look, but I'm not comfortable.  These extra pounds just don't feel right.  It feels like PMS weight.  TMI, I'm sure, but the ladies will know why that's significant.

I think I need to do another elimination diet.  Drat.  So not excited about that.  But I've suspected for a while there's something I'm eating that's causing me to bloat.  It's probably gluten.  I'm kinda hoping it's gluten because eliminating that is comparatively easy to avoiding dairy or eggs (2 other things I'm supposedly sensitive to).

So now I know what to do, the question is when?  It's best to start with a 24-48 hour detox fast.  That means I need a couple of days where I don't have much scheduled.  I don't see that happening any time soon.  Then I'll need to eat super strict for at least 2 weeks.  That is a complete PITA because I have to bring my own food most places I go.  Not to mention I have to write down every little thing I eat and monitor my symptoms.  After that, assuming I'm feeling better, I can start gradually working things in and, hopefully, figure out my trigger food(s).  Double drat.  SO NOT FUN!

Looking at my calendar, I'm going to block out the first weekend in September for the fast (yes, I know it's Labor Day, but it means hubby will be home) and then I'll be a GF carnivegan (gluten-free, meat-eating vegan).  I've done it before, for a much longer period of time.  I can do it again.  I've got some great recipes and I'll most likely quickly drop weight, but that's not why I'm doing it.  My system feels unbalanced and I need to figure out why.  It's more than vanity, it's health.  But it still blows.

P.S.  Did I mention sugar is a big no-no?  Well it is.  (super sad face emoticon here)

P.P.S.   Love you, J.M.  We'll always be BFFs, no matter the circumstances.  Big hugs.


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My Infinite Playlist

The other day while stretching at the Y I overheard a man's iPod (or whatever his music playing device of choice is.)  He had on these huge, awkward headphones and they were blaring.  Or maybe they weren't blaring.  Maybe they are just cheap and inefficient at containing sound.  Anyway, I could hear his music quite well.  It was Golden Oldies.  I mean real oldies from the 50s like Runaround Sue and The Wanderer.   I'm a big fan of the early days of rock 'n roll, but I'm not sure how I feel about it as workout music if you are under the age of 60.  Even then... eh... maybe not so much.  Anyway, this guy looked younger than that.   He was doing aggressive (and inefficient) looking crunches and he seemed really into it, like Rocky into it.  The music just didn't match.  That dude needs to download some Survivor.  Or Kenny Loggins.

It got me thinking how incredibly personal musical taste is.  As for me, when it comes to working out I want dance music.  Not so much techno or house because I like to sing along (I belt out Womanizer like nobody's business; get me drunk and I'll show you), but songs with a fast thumping bass line.  I once heard Penn, of Penn and Teller, sharing how skeeved he felt when he borrowed a friend's iPod.  If I'm remembering correctly, he said it was like going through his buddy's underwear drawer.  So I'll show you mine if you show me yours.   

My favorite, comfortable bikini briefs:

• Madonna
• Michael Jackson
• Stevie Wonder
• Aretha Franklin

My sexy, special occasion thongs:

• Gwen Stefani
• Pink
• Lady Gaga
• Robyn
• Destiny's Child (and, of course, Beyonce's instant classic Single Ladies)

My embarrassing, for-hubby's-eyes-only lingerie:

• Disco (a LOT of disco)
• Britney Spears
• Spice Girls 
• Ke$ha (did you see her SNL appearance?  WTF was that all about?)

Tell me what I'm missing, folks.  I want to hear your "must download immediately" suggestions.  Now that I'm regularly exercising for over an hour at a time I need some new blood on my workout playlist.  Thanks!

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Project Beautification

I'm not only improving my body by working out.

I went to my dentist today for Invisalign aligners--those invisible plastic trays that are an alternative to braces.  I've got a fairly sizable gap between my two front teeth (see below), but not for long!  Supposedly, 5 months from now said gap will be gone and I'll have movie-star perfect teeth.

BEFORE

They even showed me a 3D rendering of my gap closing:

The pink blobs represent attachments used to hold the trays in place.  In real life they are tooth colored.  And they feel hella weird.  Eating dinner tonight was an undertaking.  I'm sure I'll get used to them eventually, but in the meantime they're quite distracting--like teeth sprouting out of my teeth.  The inside of my lips are chewed up.

Because they scrubbed off some of my tooth enamel to make a textured surface for the attachments to adhere better, they gave me a special fluoride toothpaste to use for a week.  It's made by Oral-B, but apparently this stuff is to be taken seriously.  The directions... excuse me, "usage instructions," read:

After brushing with dentifrice, apply a thin ribbon of the formulation to teeth for at least 1 minute using a toothbrush.  Expectorate and do not eat, drink or rinse for at least 30 minutes.

And, no, I did not dig out my thesaurus.  That's a direct quote.  I don't even know what dentifrice is. I'm guessing from context it's toothpaste.  At first I thought it meant toothbrush, but then toothbrush appears later in the directions so that doesn't make sense.  I could look it up, but... eh.  I'll just use toothpaste and hope for the best.

I also have a cute little lisp.  The brochure assures me this will most likely disappear after a few days.  Of course, tonight my baby asked for The Snow Ball as his bed time story.  It has lines like:

Swooping down a snow slide--go, bears, go! 

                            and

Look out for flying snowballs!  Splat-splat-splat! 

That was a fun read for both of us.

One last perk of Invisalign is, since I can't consume anything other than water while wearing them and taking them in and out is a hassle, I'm venturing I'll eat less.  I certainly won't be doing any mindless grazing.  What perfect timing.  Skinny jeans here I come!

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Getting High

Ran my first road 10k.  Went well.  My time was 61mins so I beat my treadmill time by one minute. And I can rest assured if the race were moved to this weekend I could run the entire thing.  Chances are it won't though and I still have 5 weeks to train.  My current goal is to run it in under an hour.

Running on the road is an adventure.  (Calm down, I don't actually run in the road.  I'm using poetic license because "running on the road is an adventure" is more compelling than "running on the sidewalk is an adventure," because, really, how many adventures happen on sidewalks?  The whole point of sidewalks is to not be adventurous.)  So, anyway, running on the road is an adventure.  Tonight I dodged not only the expected doggy bombs, but also dangling spiders (damn spiders!) and an actual doggy who was overwhelmed when three other dogs on leashes and myself all coincidentally converged on him as he was detonating a bomb.  It happened too quickly to be scary and was instead only thrilling.  He really made a go for me.  His teeth snapped shut about two inches from my elbow.  Fortunately, the alarmingly thin teenage boy holding big doggy was just strong enough to pull him away.  I didn't break stride and I didn't look back. Nothing phases a triathlete!

The most entertaining part of my run though was the half mile after I saw a car floor mat lying in the middle of the road.  Baffling.  After seeing that I amused myself dreaming up the different scenarios that could result in a car floor mat somehow parting from the car floor it's lying on while that car is hurtling down the road.  Flintstone's car?  Irate passenger?  Alien abductors with a faulty beaming device?  Your guess is as good as mine.  My guess is it will remain one of the world's great unsolved mysteries.   

And the most interesting thing about my run, to me at least, was the last mile was the easiest.  I'm sure this is partly due to the way back being mostly a slight downslope.  I felt like a rock star booking across my imaginary finish line.  Also helping me out was the infamous runner's high.  I haven't had one so delicious in ages.  If you don't like running it's probably because you've never had one.  It's not a second wind, although those are nice; it's something more profound, more primal, more lovely.  If you've experienced it you know what I'm talking about.  It doesn't kick in, for me anyway, until I've run to exhaustion and beyond.  I think it's your reward for hanging in there.  And the harder you push yourself the faster it kicks in.  It's why runners run.  If you aren't a runner, trust me, it's worth pursuing.

So even though tonight I didn't have the motivation of trying not to fly off the treadmill, I did realize when I was halfway through and my body thought we were done (I don't blame her, we usually stop at 5k) that I was still 3.1miles from home.  Turns out that's a pretty good motivator too.

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OMG OMG OMG

I just found out I can order the cookie online!  The cookie, people!  The cookie.  I am seriously freaking out.  I decided to look for a picture to spice up my blog and found the actual bakery web site where I discovered I can order the actual cookie I saw on tv a few years ago that started me thinking maybe I could one day compete in a triathlon.  Wow.  Sorry, I need a minute.  I'm processing all this.

Deep breath.

So I'm picturing having finished my first ever triathlon, the event inspired by this cookie, and then I eat the cookie.   

My dreams are coming true.

I better go running.

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The Incredible Mom

I'm channeling Bruce Banner today.

I started my workout a (relatively) calm mom and I'm ending it a raging beast.  Working out with young children around is incredibly challenging.  Next to impossible, really.  But then I'm all about accomplishing the impossible these days.

I just did bicep curls with 15lb free weights.  I don't know about you, but I'm impressed.  That's a lot for a non-sporty woman.  The women in the video use 15-20lbs, but what impresses me is I started off last month lifting 8lbs.  Granted, in this phase I'm doing less reps, but still, I'm considerably stronger.  I used to think of the 10-20lb weights as hubby's since I solely used the 3lb and 5lb ones.  I only ever lifted the heavier weights to move them out of the way and they seemed absurdly heavy, but now I'm working out with them.  The 8lb weights miraculously turned into feathers overnight.

This is all wonderfully encouraging, but there is one drawback to lifting such heavy weights.  It's hard!  OMG, it's hard.  So my adrenaline is pumping, I'm grunting and groaning, I'm maxing out lifting to failure and the boys are fighting and crying, trying to run between my legs, patting my butt and completely driving me insane

So here's how a good mother turns into a CPS case:

"Hey, guys, watch out.  I'm lifting really heavy weights here and I don't want anyone to get hurt."

"Ok boys, seriously, this is heavy you need to give me some space."

"BOYS!  I said I need space!  I'm getting angry.  You won't like me when I'm angry."

"HEY,  Listen to me NOW!"

"RaaahhhHHHH!  GET OUT OR MOMMY SMASH!"

Hmm... reading that back I'm realizing that's the script for pretty much all my interactions with my kids.



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The Skinny

Ok let's get real for a minute, people.

It's true.

Of course, it's true.

I am a woman after all.

I'm sure you've guessed by now.

I admit it.

A big reason (huge reason, ginormous reason) I'm training for a triathlon is I want to lose a few pounds.  You see I've got this pair of pants....

I think every woman in America owns these pants.   You know the ones.  You bought them one/two/ten years ago and at the time they looked fabulous on you--so flattering they should be illegal.  But now... they are just a crime.  Every once in a while you pull them out of the back of your closet, tug them up your thighs as far as you can--maybe you can even button them--but infallibly they end up in a sad little pile on the floor with you right there next to them sobbing your chubby little heart out.  It's a tragic and all too common tale.

Well I want to wear those pants again damnit!  I just bought mine a year ago and I'm only a few pounds away from being comfortable in them.  A few measly, paltry, miserable pounds.  Curse you pounds!  I rue the day we met!  But, no!  You have tarnished my self image for the last time.  I refuse to be beaten down.  Are you with me ladies?

I said are you WITH me ladies?!?

I can't HEAR you!

All right then!

Let's wear the hell out of those pants!



That's my version of the Braveheart speech.





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WTF is Power Gel?

Power gel.  Seriously?

It sounds absolutely disgusting.

Is it absolutely disgusting?

Don't tell me.  I don't want to know.

I think I have to eat it now.  I think it's what real athletes do.  At least, it's what athletes sponsored by Gatorade do.  I keep seeing references to it as I'm researching triathlons.   One web site for an event heralded it as a perk, "we provide power gel!"  I'm not convinced.  At all.  

It's probably expensive too, right?  I know it's expensive.  That's how they get you.  They concoct these high-priced supplements and then assault you with images of perfectly toned abs and asses until you start believing if you don't consume their "scientifically formulated" products you'll be a weak and flabby loser forever.  I recently overheard a woman in the grocery store extolling a certain brand of protein bar to her girlfriend. 

         "They have so much protein, it's crazy!  And they aren't many calories."

         "Hmmm....  But do they taste, like, you know, protein bars?"

         "Well, yeah they do, but they have so much protein!"

And there's the rub.  The things athletes are supposed to eat are often revolting.  Oh you get used to them, but Hershey ain't got nothing to worry about.  I have one brand of protein shake I drink through a straw because, while it does taste like chocolate, it smells like death.  And that's one of my favorites.

You know what, to hell with it.  I'm going to take one for the team.  I'm going to try power gel and report my findings.  Stay tuned...

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Tales from the Y

Working out in the Y family center is an experience.  Notice I didn't say "great experience" or "bad experience" because it's both.  It's great I can work out with my children safely contained in view behind a plexiglass barrier and it's bad because my children are right there in view with only a plexiglass barrier containing them.  Oh, to finish a workout without having to stop and hunt for a lost binky or comfort someone suffering from a flying lego injury.  (I do dream big, don't I?)  I take solace though in seeing all the other frazzled parents dealing with the same issues.

So here's some things I've heard while working out in the family center:

• "Honey, please put your brother's pants back on.  No, no.  On him."
  
• "Mommy, Parker has a stinky diaper and...  he just put his hand in it!"  (I guarantee that mom has never run on the treadmill as fast as she did off of that treadmill.)
  
• A ridiculously loud woman shouting to her (I hope) friend about how her teenage "son's girlfriend must look GORGEOUS NAKED because he can't keep his hands off of her!"
  
• "If I have to come in there one more time NO SUBWAY FOR YOU!"  (There's a restaurant in the lobby and all us parents turn into Subway Nazis eventually.)
  
• A young man on the elliptical fighting with (I'm guessing) his baby's mama on his cell phone.  Most memorable phrase, "baby, don't... don't be doing me like that."
  
• "Daddy.  Daddy.  DADDY!  Daddy!  DAH-DEE!  Daddy.  Daddy.  Daddy!  Dahhh-Deeeeeee!"
  
• Me mumbling to myself, "is this really as loud as my iPod volume goes?"

Fun times.  Fun times.

P.S.  I know those personal tvs on the machines are fabulous, but if you don't have kids with you DON'T WORK OUT IN THE FAMILY CENTER!  Join the other blissful child-free adults in the main room, you moron.

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Mommy Working Out

On Monday I officially started my triathlon training.  My baby (2 years old) wants desperately to follow in my footsteps so I'm constantly yelling at him to put down my free weights before he hurts himself.  Maybe someone should do the same for me.

I'm sore.

It's a good kind of sore though.  Right now.  I'll let you know how I feel tomorrow.  If I can type.  Last night I ran a 10k (6.2miles) at a 10-min mile pace.  I'm not gonna lie, it was rough.  I only hung in there because I was afraid if I tried to stop the treadmill I would lose my balance and fly off it thereby becoming a hilarious anecdote for someone at the Y to tell his  family later in the evening.  (Because, really, it would be hilarious to see someone fly off a treadmill, wouldn't it?)  So I just kept running and 62 minutes later I finished.  It's a good thing too because I'm registered to run a 10k in late September.  Well, I'm not actually required to run it, I could walk it, but now that I'm a triathlete (and I'm stifling giggles as I type that) I had better start seriously running.  This 10k is my first step on the road to triathlon town.

I'm also doing a program from beachbody.com called ChaLean Extreme.  It's mostly intense resistance training with a couple of superfun (read sarcastically), intense cardio and ab routines thrown in.  I'm now a month into the 3-month program and I'm surprised at how much I love it.  The routines are short, about 35 minutes, so that's a huge plus and I like the trainer, Chalene.  She should be annoying, but she's just so darn geniune.  I want to hang out with her.  And she's very motivating.  She's the one who planted the "I'm an athlete" seed in my head.  Now I can't stop it from growing.

So My Brother Started a Blog...

One of my brothers recently moved to Australia to work for a year and began blogging his adventures.  It's a fun read and got me excited to write my own "just for the hell of it" blog, but unfortunately, I don't live in a foreign country and, honestly, I'm not that interesting.

I am happy.  I am blessed.  All of my basic needs are met on a daily basis.  My friends are fun, my family functional.  I have not one, but two healthy, gorgeous sons, and a tall, dark, handsome husband who couldn't love me more (and who I hope is reading this).  Awesome.  But not necessarily great story fodder.  Most artists will tell you pain drives creation more easily than contentment.  I'm way too happy to be Tolstoy (or a stand up comedian), but I am undertaking one thing I think is pretty darn interesting (and I hope all the people I've been telling about it agree).

I'm training for a triathlon.

A triathlon.

Like in the Olympics.

The interesting part is I'm a normal person.  Yeah, I ran track and cross country for a season each in high school (and lettered thank you very much), but I am not at all athletically inclined.  I'm not opposed to physical activity as long as it doesn't involve a ball hurtling towards any of my body parts, but I'm also content to sit on the couch and make love to TiVo all night long.

So why a triathlon?  I think lots of little things lead up to this and here's 3 of them:

1.  I'm a stay-at-home-mom.  This is a super challenging job, but I'm a goal setter.  I love crossing things off a to-do list (actually I draw a little box next to the task and put an x through it, trust me, it's just as thrilling) and I'm tired of seeing "grocery shopping," "call doctor," and "park" on my list.  I wanted a tangible longer term goal with clear action steps.

2.  Running a marathon is on my "bucket list," but I do not have time right now to train for an event that will, under the best of circumstances, take me at least 4 hours to complete.  Yes, a triathlon sounds as extreme, but I'll be competing in what is referred to as a "sprint" which means the distances are half that of an Olympic triathlon.  My goal is to complete the entire event in two hours or less.

3.  A couple of years ago I saw an episode of Throwdown with Bobby Flay in which he challenged two women who allegedly bake the country's best chocolate chip cookies.  They look like biscuits and are upwards of 600 calories each, truly the most mouth watering treats I've ever seen.  Watching them bite into those enormous, melty, nutty cookies titillated like hardcore porn.  What blew me away though is hearing the bakers invented the recipe because they are triathletes and they needed a high calorie and tasty "snack" for after training sessions.  A-may-zing.  That's right, I'm not ashamed to admit I'm becoming a triathlete because I want an excuse to eat giant cookies.  It's just that simple.

So now I've gone around blabbing to everyone I'm going to do this and started this blog so I am in deep.  The first triathlon I'm aiming to compete in takes place on Mother's Day in 2011 which should be a relief to my husband because now he doesn't have to get me a gift.  Not even diamonds could possibly make me happier than the 600 calorie cookie I'm going to stuff in my face after I drag myself across that finish line.