iTri...

I began triathlons 3 years ago. I started 5Ks and 10Ks before that but was cross-training with my mountain bike on trails, so I did a duathlon in January 2007. The Frost Yer Fanny in my hometown. In January. Oh yeah, cccold. Run-bike-Run. Once you are warmed up with the running you forget about the cold, but after its over we are waiting for all the bikes to come in before they let you collect your bike and things in transition, so we are waiting around and getting cold again...but anyway, I was hooked on the idea and the only thing left to do was a TRIATHLON!

The swim was my unknown. So I went to the gym and began laps in the pool. Then I remembered...I love to swim! I love gliding through the water, back and forth...so soothing and zen-like. I played around with my stroke, settled on a double-sided freestyle stroke. Added flip-turns. I'm a swim stud. Just watch me go.

But you only get practice at the mechanics of swimming in a lap pool. For a tri, you will swim in a lake (or the ocean if you are really brave) and you will swim with other people around you. So I made the trek out to our local lakespot and swam with the fishies. The tiny fish that actually nipped at my fingers as I stood on the step and stretched before getting in. Wishing I had a wetsuit right about then. Swam over the scuba divers who happened to be diving there. And the boaters buzzing by who threw their wakes in my face as I swam. But that wind blowing, and waves crashing and scuba dude who came up right under me (yikes!) gave me the best practice at an open-water swim I could've ever had without doing an actual tri.

My first tri was going to be a mini-tri, that means only a 500 meter swim, a 10 mile bike, and a 3k run. I trained in the pool, on my mountain bike, and running from February until Memorial Day when the tri was to be. The day before this tri, which is a big one in Austin, I had to go "rack" my bike beforehand. That means you have your number and are given a slot on the bikestands (called the transition area) and you rack the bike. There are only certain tri's you will pre-rack your bike the day before, and it is because they are very large races. No way everyone could show up the day of the race and get settled all at the same time. The racking of the bike was a nerve-wracking experience. Lots of big-shots walking around with their fancy-pants tiny bikes and turning their noses up at my Trek, a massive bulk of a beast by comparison. Intimidating to say the least. Looked at the swim start which was a deck off the town lake and some fools were already jumping in to try it even though it was kinda nippy that day and overcast. A little rain spitting too. The run was a scenic one through downtown Austin, which I had done on the 5 mile Turkey Trot and the Capital 10K already so that didn't worry me. Buh-bye Trek, see ya in the AM.

But it was not to be, that night rain began to pour, and storm, and drench all of Austin. I still got up and headed downtown hoping it would be clearing as I drove. Downtown there was not as bad rain when I arrived but I began to see people walking away from the race start area with their bikes in tow. The race is cancelled? Say what? Its barely raining! Transition was soaked, a muddy mess. No way anyone's able to get in there, get geared up for the bike and get out of there without being knee-deep in mud. Same with the run. My first tri was cancelled. Later I found out the race should've had a back up plan for weather, such as a 5K or 10k. For our trouble and our $65 entry fee. I had a t-shirt and everything. Dammit.

In my ambition to be a superstar non-pro triathlete, I had already signed up for my 2nd tri, the Danskin. It just so happened to be about 10 days later. Never fear, I would tri if it killed me! And this one just might. The Danskin is a "sprint tri", which is longer than a mini, shorter than an "olympic" or the Grandaddy of them all, an Ironman. So the Danskin was/is a 750 meter swim (almost half a mile), a 12 mile bike (in Austin its a VERY hilly ride), and a 5K run. But one great thing about the Danskin? Its all women. All very pro-women. Lots of yay-women, yay-breasts, YOU-GO-GIRL kind of attitude floating around at the Expo for our packet pick-up and bike drop off. Yeah, the Danskin is HUGE. About 3,000 racers. But a really great first tri for me because of its warm, women-friendly, huggy, kissy, thanks for coming, feel-good pep-rally ambiance. The next morning was a warm, dry pre-dawn wake and drive over the the parking area, to load the buses that took the athletes to the actual race area. Our big lake front park couldn't hold all that parking and a tri too. Spectators had to go to the race area by foot, about a 1/2 mile down the road. Sorry suckas! Found by bike by my number and got all my gear settled into an easy to reach position. Meaning laid out the bike shoes, the gloves the towel for after the swim, my water bottles, my socks, my helmet, my GU getshot (energy-laden shot of gooey blech you down between events to keep up your stamina, in case the adrenaline isn't enough), my other towel to wipe off my feet cuz that run from the water to the bikes is through wet grass, checked my tires, gears, speedometer...ah, now, only an hour and a half to wait before the race starts!

After chatting with some of the girls near my transition area, and finding out how many tri's they've done and valuable tips I hadn't thought of, I was ready to get this show on the road. The sun was up and it was finally time to grab my swim cap (specially colored to designate my swim start time, based on my age) and goggles and get down to the water's edge. Transition was closing. Did I mention my race number was Sharpied on my arms and legs? Yes, that's fun to try to clean off afterwards but it's because, duh, you can't wear your race # in the water, so if your unconscious body bobs to the surface of the lake, they will be able to identify you. After the National Anthem and some more GALS ARE GREAT pep-talking, the waves of swimmers began to take off. At the Danskin as each wave enters the water, the race leaders yell and clap and give more encouragement so you are pretty pumped up when that buzzer goes off and it's time to take off.



Luckily for me, this was Austin, and this was June, and this was a man-made lake, so the water was warm and the wildlife was minimal. No fish that I could see (with 3,000 swimmers in the area, that didn't surprise me) and not much algae to swim through or around. Just bodies. Everywhere are feet, arms, heads...you really gotta watch it. At first you kinda are doggie-paddling just to get out of the pack. The hotshots bolt out front and the breast-stroke ones lag behind, so to get my freestyle started I had to get to the outside edge of the pack to have some room. And I swam toward that big yellow buoy off in the distance. Got to it and looked for the next big yellow buoy. And so on until, miraculously I could see the swim exit. Incredible. I did it.

No rest for the water-logged and weary, run to transition to get my gear on for the bike. I did my thing and walked my bike to the transition exit to mount my bike in the proper area to take off. They time your transitions too, so you aren't supposed to lolly-gaggle...The bike route was fun. I'd been training on hills and these were no different. Except one I'd been warned about, a sharp right turn at the bottom of one hill right into a steep, but short second hill. Many girls were walking their bikes up here. If they didn't know it was coming they wouldn't have the gears in place to handle the grade or the slow-down and speed back up. I've now done 5 tri's at this same park area and don't blink at this steep hill but that first time, it was a doozy. I came up "out of my saddle", bike lingo for off my seat, and pedaled hard and made it up the grade. On my mountian bike, no less. Way to go, GIRL! The bike was over too fast and I was back in transition with jelly-legs and a GU shot, and off I went to run the 5K. Through woods and grass and on rocks and wood chips, no fun if you ask me and by this time it was after 9am and here in Texas, that's already HOT and humid out...yuck. But I was so close and not ready to stop.

Until that last mile came and it was ALL--UP--FREAKIN--HILL. Are you shitting me? At a run that was barely faster than most of the women walking it, I tredged up there and finally could hear the finishline music and announcements. Its so great, most races around here have the same guy announcing your name and where you are from as you cross over the finish line. You get a medal at the Danskin. Awesome. I'm a triathlete.

Now for the festivities and free food. Seeing fellow racers so proud of themselves admiring their medals, and watching more runners come into the finish line, with euphoric looks on their red-cheeked, sweaty faces. This is the best part of doing triathlons...the Finish Line.



I have completed 10 triathlons in the past three years. Each one was different, but all taught me a lot. The season begins now. Ive done April tri's and they are always too cold so I am signed up for one smaller local tri in June so far for this year. Will probably do at least one other before the season's out. It's a great community, especially the women, and doing one for a good cause, like breast or ovarian cancer just makes it all the more special.

The Danskin is on my birthday this year. I haven't decided if I want to spend it that way, but it could be a good way to start my 40s...with cheering, praising, loving women yelling YOU GO, YOU SEXY GIRL!! to me as I cross that finish line, sweaty, smiling, and proud.

Lovin' the Sunshine in the sky and in my head....

Gettin a move on, gettin my groove on. Actually had 50% less thoughts about he-who-shall-remain-nameless today than yesterday. That's good, huh? I still shake my head during odd times during the day when the whys and the whose faults pop into my consciousness. But those thoughts are fleeting and I can honestly say I was glad to be dealing with other people's problems all day and not checking my texts or emails every five minutes.



My job as an audiologist is about listening to the issues affecting people in their lives, and these are folks who have lived many more years than me, so once the hearing aid issue is laid out, I love to hear their stories about their pasts, their families, their careers, their mistakes, their life lessons. You can always find something to learn from them. Its either do that, or shuffle them off to their next doctor's appointment like they aren't worth the tennis balls on the bottom of their walkers. How could anyone do that? Yes, some are crabby or downright ornery, but even those grouches can be made to smile when you ask them what they did for a living before retirement or about their grandchildren. My work is a big part of my identity. After almost 20 years of doing this, it is what it is, and I make the best of it. Good people at work were the Sunshine in my head part of my day.

Today after work I got to go play with my kids. Outdoor volleyball practice for my Pink Zebras team to get them a bit more coaching in a different venue. When they weren't playing in the sand, I saw a few happy smiles when serves made it over the higher net. This was the Sunshine in the sky part of my day.

New topic: "worldly success has shallow roots while interpersonal bonds permeate through and through"...from an article I found online, called The Sandra Bullock Trade, by David Brooks. He poses the question of poor Sandy feeling if it was worth it to gain such success in her career but lose the love of her life in the same moment? Studies show people in good marriages (glad to hear there are such people) enjoy happiness and fulfillment in less paying jobs more than those who are in bad marriages and high paying jobs. I won't go so far as to ruminate on marriage at this particular point in my jaded station in life, but having a good friend, even in the worst of times, brings happiness.

http://www.nytimes.com/2010/03/30/opinion/30brooks.html

Another part of my identity is because of my friends. I have hung onto many of them for many years and make conscious efforts to stay in touch. Some people don't understand this. Some people only have a few friends they trust and they still don't talk to them all that often. My friends are the best! I can say that with confidence because several have stuck with me since elementary school. I imagine what a blessing it would be if my daughters will still be in touch with the friends they have RIGHT NOW, like I do!



These are friends from waaaay back when we wore our Luv-its and topsiders on the playground, or from high school in our acid-washed, rolled up tight jeans at the MickyD's on 146 in B-town, or from college in our windshorts and tees, with bows in our hair on the WC shuttle bus-- they all shared major milestones with me and have something to contribute still to this day to what is happening to me now. Luckily for me, I am still making new friends with my new common interests (my cycling chickies in our spandex and clip-shoes cruising up Ronald Reagan Blvd) and feel myself getting closer to them each day.



They are mostly girlfriends, but some guys have hung in there with me as my confidantes, giving me "well duh" advice in an unbiased way. I was able to just tonight check in with an old guyfriend who posted on FB he was having a hard day. He's divorced with kids at home with him too, and we are easily able to commiserate with each other's kid issues like leaving clean laundry on the floor and forgetting homework until 10pm. He vented about his ex-wife's gall at expecting him to still pay her Discover card, and I totally got that frustration he was feeling. Other guys are honest enough to tell me not to overthink things and go with my gut on other things.

Good times, good friends. Who needs an ex-bf who confuses friendship with co-dependency??

To call or not to call...eh, let him wait.

Got the "hey friend, just thought you should know I've met someone, and its going well" phone call from my ex-bf, Romeo...Ok, so that's not a call most people get because their exes have common sense and more manners. But I got the call nonetheless. I sat through the call saying "well, good for you" when I felt like saying "are you shitting me with this?" and said goodbye. I mean really said goodbye. To the possibility of us finding each other again. To hoping he'll have an epiphany and he'll decide he can't live without me. To the good memories we had, since now all I think of are the jerky things he's done and berate myself for letting it go on so long. To a future of not having to get out and date again.

But no, the story doesn't quite end there. Two days later I got the "I know that was hard to hear, but it's because I haven't been honest in the last months since our break up, but you should now know I began to move on past us right away, and I feel guilty about not telling you that then" email. Oh yeah, believe it. I know-a slap in the face, no? More like a punch in the gut. I've tried the friendship angle with him over the past 5 months apart to hang on to something I was afraid to be without, as well as to come across as the cool ex-gf so he'd miss me and realize he's making a mistake. Now that lil gameplan has bit me in the ass.

Why is he doing this, you ask? Beats me! Maybe the new date he's had has given him a new lease on life and he wants to clear the cobwebs away? Maybe me texting him Hey there, thinking of you, caused him to feel sorry for me so he thought he better pull out the honesty-card and let me down easy...er like a ton of rocks more like it.

So my simple reply to that overly wordy and jackassy email was "You know what? Enough with the honesty. I've had all I can take." Hmph! There!

About 10 hrs later I get a phone call from him, which I did NOT answer, thankyouverymuch....ugh, then a text blinged..."I'm so sorry, it was stupid of me. It was not honesty, it was stupid and I shouldn't have sent it. I feel sick to my stomach. I'm so sorry."

WTF? How do I respond to that? Your whole condescending call and email were lies? I don't think so! You don't send emails unless you have something to say and you said it like 3 different ways in that email. YOU ARE OVER ME AND HAVE BEEN SINCE NOVEMBER. OWN IT! MAN UP AND STAND BY YOUR STATEMENTS!

I replied to the text, "I don't know what to say." That was last night. I haven't spoken to him yet, or emailed. My BFF Cora assured me that my silence sends the same message as reeming him out for his idiocy, but even better.

I've got to sever my ties to continue to move on. I can't ease his guilt. I can't be his friend. Not right now. Maybe not ever. My anger will fade in about a day and I will be back to consciously NOT calling/texting/emailing...as in starting to and stopping myself. Taking a deep breath and literally NOT doing something that will perpetuate the pain.



Hmmm..where will my NEW gameplan take me? :)

The Way We Are...The Story of Romeo Part Deux

So Colorado- March 2009. Winter Park to be exact. Great for the kids, not too expensive. Booked one room, two beds, for four days. I guess I barged my way through the planning with the intention of bringing us all together to see if we could all be together, since up until then, we'd spent only the amount of time for a meal in a restaurant together. We had an uneventful flight and first evening, and the next day he and I taught the girls to ski. They didn't take to it at first and many tears and whining later, they finally had an A-HA moment and both fell in love with it, much like I did my first time out. This stretch of time before they fell in love, they were not happy kiddos. Lil Lady's boots were too tight and Chillgirl brought the wrong gloves and her hands were freezing. I dealt with these little tragedies alone, with Romeo standing by watching. And unsmiling, and judging, I was sure of it. As the whining continued, I decided we were not moving past this until me and the girls went back to the hotel/ski rental and took care of the problems. I assured Romeo he could stay and get a few adult runs in while we did took the shuttle back. I let him off the hook of being with two crabby kids because that is what I thought he'd want, and he took the chance and didn't insist he come with us. Chivalry is not in Colorado I guess.



A decent time was had by all after the girls got comfy and began to ski. It felt like a family vacation with skiing and exploring the mountian and shopping. Later at dinner there was an uncomfortable moment when the girls were goofing off at the dinner table and I told them to stop, and they didn't. After a few more minutes of silliness and ignoring my requests to stop, Romeo said, in a deep raised voice something to the effect of Did you not hear your Mother tell you to stop? They stopped cold, staring down at their plates, but then he added "Answer the question!" and they both sheepishly looked up and answered "Yes". I was shocked. The last part was uncalled for, but after a few minutes of total silence at the table the girls began to talk quietly to each other and seemed unphased by it. I, however, ate my dinner fighting back tears. Here I was trying to get us to all interact as a family and all he could muster up in a "family way" was scolding them in a blow-up of temper like I'd never seen?? He constantly has told me about his strict upbringing with his sweet mother and her heavy hand and his father's no BS style. Here was a blatant example of his parenting style...long fuse, big boom.

The next day after sight-seeing Romeo and I were still very uncomfortable around each other and I asked him to come for a walk with me while the girls stayed in the room to watch tv. We were silent for much of it but eventually began talking. I don't remember much before somehow getting on the subject of our future together. I finally asked the question I'd been holding onto for the better part of the last year. When do you see us merging our lives together? I didn't say marriage, that would sound like asking for a proposal or a ring. A merge. I thought it was a term he could handle. I wasn't prepared for his answer. "When the girls are finished with school and out of the house.", he said. WTF? Chillgirl was in Kindergarten at the time! In 12 years???

In an emotional come-to-Jesus talk, I explained that is not good enough for me and I cannot accept that kind of timeline. That I cannot raise them alone and then be his girlfriend on the off-weekends. He explained he wanted to make it work but it was so hard watching them go at each other and disrespect me so often. He didn't think he knew how to be a parent to them. I asked him to only consider being a partner to me, and the rest will come with time. He said he didn't know if he could/would. We left it at that with tears from both of us and that night slept holding each other tightly as my two angels slept unaware in the bed next to us.

I now know I shouldve taken that conversation way more seriously. It was such a blow, such a revelation, so not what I thought was happening with us, that I filed it away, Scarlett O'Hara-style, and thought "I'll worry about that tomorrow!". The same topic came up just about every month after that fateful trip, in one way or another. I began to feel the unrest and disatisfaction with the status quo between us, and asked for more from him, especially with hanging around with the girls. In July we had a conversation in the car once that led me to ask him to think about taking the girls somewhere, just him and them.

His response: "I don't feel comfortable with that". OH WELL, BY ALL MEANS, DON'T DO ANYTHING YOU MAY BE UNCOMFORTABLE WITH, DEAR!

I was reaching the end of my patience.

His honesty at explaining the chemistry with him and my children "just wasn't there" was making me question everything we'd built thus far. Yes, some of you might think, WELL DUH!!! But being on the inside, still deeply in love I couldn't see it in its totality. We actually broke up over similiar statements almost in July before our 2nd family trip to see my parents and family in Pittsburgh, again with the kids. We decided to go through with that trip and actually had a fabulous time but didnt even spend time with the kids much, since I planned some things for just us two, away from them. There I was, catering to making Romeo happy, at the expense of my kids getting to know this man who was still taking their mom away. Again, DUH!!?? Broke up again in August, and after his promises to "try harder" fell flat and nothing changed, I made the devasting (to me at least) decision to end it for good a few months later.



Explaining last November, yet again, how it wasn't enough to just be a "part-time lover" while I lived my double-life as a mom all but two weekends a month, he surprisingly didn't fight me. No more promises were made. He actually agreed with me. Said he couldn't provide me what I needed and he shouldn't hold me back. No overtures were made to assure me we could make it work, no late night drop-ins, no phone calls, texts, or even emails for several weeks, all through the Thanksgiving holiday, for most of which I spent alone, wallowing.

NOW I look back and realize he let me do the dirty work. He had been holding steady in his conviction that he was not step-father material and he didn't belong hanging out at my dog-hair infested house since MARCH, and I made excuses and justifications and let it ride. When I finally did the dirty work, he was RELIEVED. No need to stalk me or show up, banging on the door, with roses to get me back...good riddance...don't let the door hit you on the way out, lady.

Now it's March 2010 and I'm a year wiser. BUT Romeo and I have still way too much contact for a broken up couple. He's tried to put me on the Friend Shelf (with his other ex-girlfriend) but still told me he loves me and misses me. Mixed signals to the max. My little bruised heart has been pulled back and forth over these last almost 5 months. He was so much to me, my best friend, my lover, my equal in so many ways, but he's glad to see me go.

He's moved on, he tells me now. I have gotten out there a bit, but not in my heart. That little sucker is gonna need to take some more time to heal.

The Way We Were....the Story of Romeo Part I

Don't know if I'll get through the whole sordid story in one post. It now has been over 3 years of loving someone who has ultimately let me down and has chosen to live apart from me and my family, and who has now put me on a shelf with his other past girlfriends who weren't quite the right fit for him and his lifestyle. I am finally seeing the whiney little boy behind the man, the boy who can't be satisfied with the red lollipop because he knows there's a green lollipop that might be better, and the man who lives in the box, claims to want to see outside the box, but who really is afraid to step out of the box.

My bubble is burst...but it was such a pretty bubble for a while...

Meeting Romeo wasn't instant attraction but instant curiosity for sure. Met on the volleyball court and when he, out of the blue, said "hey you got your hair cut, I like it", with a rarely seen before smile, I was smitten. It grew into a caring friendship and desire on both our parts to learn everything about one another. Tons of similarities in background- both Catholic, both have parents still together, both have been in stable jobs for many years, both graduates of UT, both Democrats, both curious about and interested in world issues, both love sports, both love travel. This meant plenty to talk about. And talk and talk and talk. We seemingly never bored of each other.

He helped me through the end of my marriage, without butting in, but patiently waiting and quietly supporting while I took care of the business of untangling myself from 14 years of Mr. Not-quite-right. Romeo claimed to want a family of his own but also said he hoped to provide something stable for me and Lil Lady and Chillgirl. We began to travel together, first skiing in SLC, where he painstakingly taught me with his slow and easy coaching style, how to love the slopes, and the art of skiing, and the mountains that surrounded us. It was a new happy place for me in more ways than one.

After the divorce was final, he began to meet with me and my girls. The girls were cautious, especially Lil Lady, who I still suspect blames Romeo for her daddy moving away. But everyone was nice to each other and the girls gave him a break and accepted him as Mom's Friend. After a while they decided he would be nice to have around and told me they didn't mind if we got married, especially if that meant we'd buy a new house, so they could pick out new rooms someday. I figured things were moving in the right directions for all parties involved.



Early indicators showed Romeo liking and getting to know the girls but also at times bringing up questions and little criticisms about their behavior and my discipline style. I gently explained my relationship with the girls and how we weren't perfect but had our ways firmly in place. He liked to point out ways that HIS parents handled things with him and how he never questioned their heavy hands and did as he was told. I chalked it up to him not understanding how kids are these days, as he doesn't have any of his own and only sees his nieces and nephews on occasion and only during holiday festive times and not in the day to day rigamaroll...

How wrong I was to assume he thought this too and that he would come around to my way of thinking once he was around us more....I also thought he might revise his desire for 2 more children once he was in a household with several already and saw how hard it was. I early on left it open for discussion us sharing a child after we married, but two at our later ages was kinda overboard for me. But on we went, traveling to Chicago for a Cub's game, because that was his favorite team, and to my high school reunion in Houston, where he smiled and nodded to my friends but basically stood off to the side with the others who didn't go to our school and waited for me to be finished socializing. He didn't realize and I didn't tell him I would've stayed out all night with my old friends if he hadn't been there. At home we hung out with his friends, ones he'd had for many years, including a few I knew from volleyball and also including his ex-girlfriend who he'd broken up with many years before but remained best friends with after all was healed and both had moved on. We were a happy bunch together but there was not room in our social life to go out with my friends or family very often and he was so quiet during the times we did, I hardly recognized him. My mother always said he wasn't right for me. But she never has liked a single boy I've been with, so that didn't phase me a bit. More on HER later for sure...

Romeo and I talked of marriage and homes, but more hypothetically, not in any real serious sense, now that I look back on it. One thing was clear to me, he did not want to move to Suburbia and I was not keen on moving my girls away from their school or town where they'd been growing up, into the city where he rented and where I knew property prices were outrageous for even a cramped small home we could barely afford together. We traveled to Tahoe and spent another great time in ski heaven around a beautiful blue blue lake. We were great at fantasyland away from home and realities of normal life.



At home, I began to realize I played the girlfriend role on my weekends when the girls were with the ex, and I played the mommy role on the other weekends, usually alone. We'd meet up for dinner with Romeo but he rarely did more than pop over to sit on the couch and watch tv at my house when the girls were there. Even on our weekends together, he and I spent most of our alone time at his place. I was comfortable there after spending so much time there, but he claimed he still felt like a stranger in my home. I gave him plenty of chances to come over more and just beebop around as if he belonged there. It never quite worked out that way. Once when he needed to do laundry, I invited him to bring it and use my machines but after he finished and went home, he called later to say he found little black things in the bottom of his "clean" basket...he thought they were fleas from the dog or cats. I have no idea what he was seeing because I would know if I had a flea problem, and I surely don't. Just one more reason for Sunday afternoon laundry time to never happen again.

As our 3rd year together began, momentum shifted. I was turning 39 and the baby-making years were slowly slipping away. He didn't talk about his own offspring anymore and we did have conversation, again sorta hypothetically, about not starting over with a newborn that would slow down our travel plans and add to college savings and such. This also is when we planned our first ski trip with the girls. I made most of the plans for the 4 of us. So off to Colorado we went....

Day one for a virgin blogger...

Good evening and welcome to a peek into my life. I was born in 1970, so what birthday year does 2010 bring? The big 4-0...yee-fucking-haw. Is that the birthday people buy the black decorations and tombstones and RIP things for? God, I hope not. I hope to push that off until year 5-0, if you please. My birthday isn't for another two months but since all my friends from high school have begun to one by one turn 40, it is clear to me that this IS coming and I have no choice but to own it. One good thing is most people find out I'm 39, ahem..er...almost 40 and they say "Oh wow, I wouldn't have guessed that, you look much younger"....either they are bullshitting me or somehow I am aging well.

I have done a good job fighting off my elder years in the last years since I began having my kids. I don't remember ever really thinking about my weight or health until I saw it balloon up to the 200s during my first pregancy. THAT freaked me out and as soon as I had my Lil Lady I began to work at taking off those 50+ lbs I had so easily packed on the previous 9 months. My husband never complained but then he was not that into me physically to begin with (hence his current title "the ex") so he also didn't care or help with the restructuring of my overbloated body.

I did breastfeed my Lil Lady, but only for about 3 months since I felt chained to her and she wasn't satisfied from day one and she always was supplemented on the formula anyway. This also is my first glimpse into her now-famous complicated persona, but more on that later. I walked her mornings in her baby stroller, along with Maxie the dog, and then walked her again in the evenings. Before long I shed most of the 50lbs without much more thought to it. The last 10 were stubborn and needed me to diet more strictly along with my walks and then I even began running alone to just feel the fat and water weight sweat out of me. By her first birthday I was better than my pre-prego physique.

My second baby girl, my Chillgirl, came along with 60 extra lbs that I didn't need. Being in my early 30's with this one, the lbs came on too easily and took more effort to come off afterward. I was chasing a 4 year old and trying to breastfeed the new baby and I think I quit the breastfeeding with her by 10 weeks in. Both my girls have always been exceptionally healthy and happy, not even an ear infection, so all those Leche people out there, suck it..haha, pun intended. Anyway, I went back to work sooner with baby#2 so the weight took a while to come off. But it did. Finally I was able to show my face, and my ass, back at the gym with my volleyball playing pals on my regular Tues/Thurs evening free play nights.

So where was I going with this? Oh yeah, turning 40 but feeling better than at 30...after my Chillgirl turned 3 1/2 I decided to lose those last 10lbs that had stayed with me so I joined Weight Watchers and got up and started my running again and got a beat up mountain bike from my sister and started riding the trails near my house. Within 3 months I'd lost 18lbs and found a whole new respect for food and how to control, or try to control what was going in my mouth and how to work out this aging body of mine so that it never gets stiff or weak. I work with the elderly and see all the downsides of aging and how some people at age 90 can look younger than others at age 70. Its all about what you do with yourself.

Nowadays I've given up the volleyball nights but still coach my youngest and her team but after dabbling the last 3 years in triathlons, I've found a sport to love-- CYCLING....my mecca, my church, my happy place, my yoga...on the bike, in the saddle, with the wind whipping by me, taking in the sights of new neighborhoods being constructed, rolling hilly roads, or livestock on farms at the outskirts of town, and working over every inch of my body and keeping my heart about 145 beats/minute for hours on end. It is my most sane place to be in my busy life, and I cherish every minute out there.

As a single mom with an ex that does as little as is fatherly possible to help me out with our children, my life is not my own. I steal the hours on my bike or for my gymtime. Literally steal them. If my kids are with the ex, I plan my days around my rides or gym classes. If I have the kids, I longingly think of my cycling friends out on Saturday AMs rolling away, while I am getting sleepy girls ready for our volleyball game or a trip to the grocery. I will give up a spin class to make sure I'm home for the homework time necessary to make sure my 5th grader passes the damn TAKS test (Texas mandatory standardized bastard of a test)...I stay at home on a perfectly sunny, no-wind day and mow the lawn and pick the weeds many weekends with the kids nearby.

I'm not complaining about mothering my own children. Don't get me wrong. I love them and ache for them when they are gone from me. I worry more than most about their mental well-being having gone through a divorce at ages 4 and 8. I kept them in the only house they know, in the school theyve been in since Kinder, going to the same church and religious ed classes, with the same friends theyve known since babyhood. I've been in the same job, same office, same position for 15 years to keep a stable paycheck coming home so they want for nothing. I've coached their sports teams, and taught their RE classes, and taken them to shows, and birthday parties, and events at the University here, and playdates, and parks, and Build-A-Bear, and pretty much anything that will help them grow and have great childhood memories. Call it "mommy guilt" or better yet "single working mommy guilt" but it is all I know how to do. Ive never not worked, and never not controlled every aspect of my life and my kids' lives. My ex let me do it all because he didn't know how and didn't want to know how to be the leader. And yes, he was shocked when I was finished with having a 36 year old child as well as the two little ones and asked him to pack his shit and leave the house I paid for.

So the girls are well-adjusted kids with good grades and friends, and a good relationship with both of their parents, so after all that, what is wrong with me trying to go for a massage, or a yoga class, or a ride to shake off the crazy that comes with the previously mentioned well-adjusted kids. If I'm hanging on to my own well-being with a thread, I feel I owe it to myself to braid that thread into a rope and climb up it to be a stronger, healthier mommy.

So in my 40th year, when I am truly "on my own" (went from marriage to exclusive love-of-my-life relationship in 2.2 seconds, but that's over now too) I have to venture out and find my own damn self. I've spent all this time defined by what I am to others: wife, mother, daughter, sister, friend, teacher, coach, girlfriend, employee, mentor, counselor, listener, problem-solver....

In the next 40 years...which could be the last 40 I have...I am going to continue to be all of the above, but will learn to understand ME, and define myself by what I am to ME.