Second Time's a Charm...or an Unanswered Prayer?

As a 40-Something Woman of the World (ha!) I often wonder how I will live out my golden years.  I know I will be a traveler.  I want to plan excursions with my girlfriends and my man...er...separately of course.  I know I want to retire from working full-time while I am still able to enjoy it.  But I also know I want to stay grounded with a home-base near my children and grandchildren, as long as they know Grandma isn't hanging out at home waiting for Sunday dinner.  

In the immediate future, as in the next 8 years while I still have school-aged kids, I want to keep my current job to pay the bills, but expand into other areas such as teaching, which could parlay into a late career of a professorship in academia.  I see this clearly as a way to work not for the money, but for the fulfillment of educating new minds.  

In my relationship with Sinatra, I am clear on us growing old together.  How we get there is a bit more fuzzy.  Marriage and living together full-time is not in the cards for us right now.  The custody court results were clear.  His kids need to stay in their hometown 250 miles away to share custody between Sinatra and his ex.  My pity party regarding this outcome is over.  I am able to understand that his children actually enjoy going to their mom's (as a result of her finally stepping up and structuring her life more for her kids, thanks to the court case), and they weren't thrilled to move in the middle of their schooling.  I am able to understand Sinatra gave up his ability to move but worked out other important financial details with his ex, which benefit the children.  I am at peace with it all.  

Destination Wedding? No. Tropical island vacation? Yes!

We've discussed our future, and although there isn't a wedding to plan, we may have even better options available now.  His job will need him to be here often, even so far as needing him to establish a home here.  This would give "us" all a second (third?) home for him and his kids to be here extended times, like in the summer or on Christmas or Spring Breaks.  All 7 of us in my tiny house doesn't make for an easy visit.  A house for them near mine would give them a place to come without feeling cramped, and no air mattresses or sharing bathrooms.

I recently had a conversation with my friend, one of the K's, who is another divorced gal with two kids similar ages as mine, and who is dating someone who doesn't quite fit the mold for the "Let's move in together and get married" attitude expected of us as divorced-and-dating women.  We agreed we did the fall in love/get married/have babies thing in our 20s.  Now in our 40s we have been through divorce-hell and having come out of it independent and in control, it isn't necessary for us to compromise all over again, uproot the children again, or share bank accounts again.  

Our kids ARE our lives, as they should be, and our new men can definitely step in and aide us in raising them, but ultimately we are in control and bear the responsibility to get them through childhood and on into a productive adulthood.

K and I share a lot of the same issues with our ex-husbands enjoying the part-time-parenting-after-divorce, while we slog through our weeks running our kids from schools to activities to homework to bath to bed.  And we know in our relationships with our "new" men, we aren't ready to let go of the reins.  We worked through painful divorces to attain our Single-Mom-Wonder-Woman status and wear it proudly.  

What works for another divorcee when they meet "the one" (the other "one", not the "one" they married first...ha) may not work for us.  That's OK.  We all know of second marriages that were not successful.  Now that we have ourselves back together after divorce, why would we risk starting all that over just because society thinks we should be locked-down and married?  

Society.  Our parents and their aged-friends cannot get it that we have a CHOICE.  We don't have to get married again. Especially right away.  Let the kids have us to themselves, and our mates when they are around, and their Dads when they are around.  I know for my two girls, they have gotten to see their mom do it ALL. It shows them what is possible and what a woman can handle.  

Now, I don't always like being Miss-Independent...trust me.  I whine and complain when I am leaving work after an 8-hour day and driving straight to get the kids and on to a piano lesson or volleyball practice or cheer performance without even so much as going to the bathroom.  I microwave a mean frozen meal or pizza for my kids on a late night, or even do the drive-through fast food to just be done with it.

Miss-Independent is an empowering label, but I personally was not built to do it alone.  I rely on anyone and everyone to help me out with all our activities, and I mean my own as well.  Sinatra has stepped right on up with vigor and enthusiasm to take my girls, or his kids AND my girls, where they need to be.  I have no doubt if he was here, near me, I would share all of these things with him joyfully.

I am convinced Sinatra and I will thrive in our new arrangement.  It really has dawned on me our Unanswered Prayer was just what we needed to survive our post-divorce/full-time parent 40s decade.

Maybe our 50s will be a whole new ball of wax.  I look forward to it.

Pity Party, Party of One

Go towards the light, Carol-Ann!.

Had a dream a few nights ago....very telling. 

Sinatra and I ended up in an underground room, hiding from something, and became stranded there, stuck underground with no way out.  A few other people we know were there as well.  I was getting super claustrophobic since we were underground with no way out.  Suddenly we heard noise outside and someone was getting to the door and getting it open.  I then realized I could see a window with light through it and we weren't as far underground as I thought.  The door was finally opened and everyone was going out but me.  Sinatra was at the threshold with his hand out saying, Come on...but I wouldn't go out of fear.  

Then I woke up.

It doesn't take a rocket-scientist to figure that one out...I do feel trapped with fear of my future right now.  We, Sinatra and I and the kids, have reached the conclusion of the custody battle.  It was settled between him and his ex out of court, minutes before the mudslinging would have begun in front of an almost-retired judge.  I am not pleased with the settlement.  He let her out of all the money she owed him and reworked their possession arrangement so they kids will have plenty of time with their mom.  I thought he wanted the freedom to move with the kids, but he settled with his ex to allow her more possession than she already had, thereby cutting off all possibility of them moving here.

It has been a rough couple of days with us.

And then there's me.  I know, this situation did not happen TO ME, but it is obviously affecting my life.  The plans we talked about from the beginning where they move to my town in the summer and set up their own household and get used to new surroundings and start at new schools.  We begin to function as a family, attending the kids' activities and school-nights, and grocery shopping together.  Separate living to ease his kids into a new town, without the complication of instant step-siblings or a new step-parent right off the bat.  We would work out weekends with their mom and function smoothly as an extended family.

Eventually a merge.  Eventually a marriage.

I am mourning the loss of this plan.  What we now have leaves us with more LDR, less time I get to spend with his kids, he and I working our plans around the crazy visitation the kids now will have with their mom.  Week-on, week-off, where are they now? Can we switch that day for this day, blah, blah, blah.

Then the question goes...

How much compromise and sacrifice will he and I be able to take?  

Justice for all?

Sinatra's friends, and some of mine, ask why I won't move to him?  I have come to the conclusion that this option could be our immediate ruin.  He's claimed to be unhappy there and the ex-wife drama was there too, so why would I move closer to that?  Put myself and my girls closer to it?  Hell no. After their settlement, however, he's vowing to co-parent with her and they have agreed to be flexible on the visitation times.  Easy? Flexible? I have not known these words to describe anything with their post-divorce relationship.  I have that type of divorce with my ex, and I wish that for Sinatra too, but I'm distrustful of her motives and promises.

Staying here and doing the LDR thing is a challenge at best.  We've done it for over 2 years now but that was with the hopes of an end in sight.  That end is null and void as far as I can tell now.  His life is there, 3 hours north of here.  His kids want to be there, not here.  His ex needs to be near her kids, she fought for them and won.

All of my hopes were based in the information I was told by Sinatra from the beginning of our relationship.  His ex was a part-time mom since the divorce.  She drank and smoked and partied several times a week.  She skipped her visitation nights for the bar.  Her new husband was mean to the kids, not interested in trying to build a relationship with them.  The kids didn't like going to their house.  I believed these things.  It made sense that they would want to move here with their dad and it made sense she wouldn't mind them going.

Was he lying? No. I believe he was caught up in the mires of the fight for survival too.

This information was wrong, yes.  It was one-sided and it became more cloudy as the court proceedings droned on.  Was she fighting to keep her kids or was she fighting to prevent Sinatra from being happy?  I thought the latter, but now I'm not so sure.  Time will tell if she takes all her allotted visitation with the kids and builds healthy relationships with it.  She must now put her money where her mouth has been.  I give her props if she does. See how forgiving I can be?

I would have never entered into this LDR with the expectation of them moving here if I knew she was a mom really wanting her kids to stay close.  I am a mom too, my kids ARE my days, and I wouldn't let anyone remove my kids from my daily life.  I don't want to make my kids move and leave the life we've built here since they were babies.  I understand that is probably his desire now too.  I guess I got lost in the notion that I had a better life for him and his kids here, and assumed they were on board. The reality of them wanting to stay there, and the removal of any chance of a future move has slapped me hard.  In the face.  Without warning.

Ok, I had warning.  Back in the summer the court-appointed social worker's report proclaimed the kids should remain with their father's primary custody but they be bound the immediate county to stay near their mom and foster new relationships with her.  I plunged into depression after reading that.  I spend days trying to cope with it.  Sinatra assured me his legal team would fight for his ability to move when and where he wanted.  I clung to that.

The hope is gone and now a new future looms.  No big, happy family dinners on Sundays.  Marriage is off the table even before it was on.  I am trying to imagine how I will view this outcome in a few days, but right now I am overcome with sadness and loss.

I will work to not pity myself anymore, but recognize I am unstable right now.  Unclear as to what is next, and as usual, I'd like it to be all laid out for me so I can know what to expect.  This has always been my way, but I rarely choose the safe route in my love life, so rarely do I feel the calm and safety that love is supposed to provide.

I'm a big girl.  I will not die from this.  The Family we could have been is the loss we will mourn.  I am one of those people who realize Bad Things Happen To Good People.  Pessimist? Maybe.  Realist? Yes.  But there are worse things in life than this.  Cancer.  Accidents.  Disaster.  I will count my blessings even in my melancholy.

I am of the people who will eventually rise above the train wreck that has happened here.  Sinatra is too.  He is one of the most positive people I know.  I love him for it and he offsets my cynicism when I let the boogey-man get inside my head.  We will rise above and move on because our kids need us to.  Anything else would destroy what we have together and have been so blessed to have found.  I will find a way to forgive, accept, and forge on.

To live is to suffer, to survive is to find some meaning in the suffering. 
Friedrich Nietzsche 

I Heart Triathlon

I heart Triathlon.

I sat on my couch watching the recap of the Kona Ironman Championships and am so proud to be in this sport. The complex mix of training for three different sports and the camaraderie of the triathlon community has given my mid-life a meaning that belongs all to me.

I am a proud Mama of two really talented and interesting girls, and I have learned I need to stay talented and interesting myself for us all to have a healthy balance with each other. Triathlon and other racing do this for us.

My one and only mud race...Chillgirl did it too and we agree- NO MORE MUD RACES!

I may never be an Ironman, but that's okay.  My Ks and other friends are racking up 70.3s (half-irons) and 140.6 (fulls) and I'm so proud to watch and cheer for them.  I was with the Ks when they did their first few sprint triathlons and I've trained and raced with them all along their journeys to their big races.  We still do sprint and olympic races together.  Our training and race-prep are our version of what other girlfriends do with shopping, or book club, or Bunko.  We yak and yak, catching up on kids, ex-husbands, boyfriends, dating, nutrition, and exercise plans.  Its priceless time to unwind and workout the body and mind.

My triathlon season is over for the year.  It goes from about April (if I'm ambitious) to September or October (if I'm still feeling it).  Its hard to believe I've been doing triathlon for SIX years.  I'm up to 24 or 25 tri or du races at this point.  You would think I'd be an expert by now, but no, this sport evolves, and as I go into new seasons and try new races, I always am learning more.

This year my big revelation was that I do not plan to aspire to larger and longer races.  After years of spring distance tris, I had it planned to spend 2012 doing olympic-length races.  I did three.  That is a lot because this length is not offered very often.  I did no Sprint-lengths until the very end, the last weekend of September.  I did it and it felt great.  The olympic races did NOT leave me feeling great.  I worried about my times and conserving energy and eating/drinking enough.  My swims were steadily improving thanks to my lessons and my cycling was the same as always (read: I kick ass and take names), but my running was all over the place.  The first olympic I did I ran/walked and felt really good with that.  The second one I ran the whole way and was thrilled.  The third I ran/walked the first 5k, but punked out and walked most of the second half.  I was irritated that as the season went on, I did not feel I was improving.

The sprint I did at the end of the season wasn't the easiest one I've done.  It was in a new venue and it was raining at the start.  But it was OVER in an hour and 42 minutes! What's to complain about there?  I was on to the free beer by the time I would've been starting the run on an olympic race!

I began with sprint distance triathlons back in 2007.  I loved them.  Fell IN love with them.  I started doing them brand-new to the sport and slowly figured out how to improve my times and train better for a multi-sport.  Then along the way I thought they were getting too easy, and I should "graduate" to a longer race.  Much like I feel about doing 5Ks as I have graduated to10Ks, 10 milers, and half-marathons.  I'm not even a runner, so why do I think I need to run longer to make it worth my while? Insane.

I know the desire to go bigger in triathlon was the influence of my tri buddies who are doing halfs and full-Irons.  I thought I must keep up with them.  Guess what? I can't.  Ooohhh, the big-bad word CAN'T.  Yeah, I said it.  Its true.

This guy looks like me too, about to fall over on the run....

No, I don't mean physically.  I CAN physically sloth through a half-Ironman.  Its not that much longer than an olympic on the swim, its double the distance on the bike, and a little more than double the run.  I've done all those distances individually many times before.  A half-Iron was my pinnacle goal before this season started.  I think I'll shelve it, but its possible it will come out again in the future.

The full-Iron? Well that's another story.  Its an unknown at this point if I physically COULD do it, but mentally I DON'T WANNA.  Twice my longest swim, 112 miles on the bike (that's just not fun), and a full-marathon, which I've never done.  Nope.

But if the olympics are not getting easier for me and yes, even though this is only the second season I've done them, I question my reasons for pushing it?  I probably will do another olympic but I will choose different ones.  No more CapTex or Austin Tri.  Same-ish downtown Austin routes, too many participants, over-priced and basically not FUN.  Waco, yes. That was fun, although the bike was cut short with a rainstorm.  Kerrville, possibly.  Marble Falls, hopefully.

If I want to continue to "heart" triathlon, I need to be smart about it.  Do what keeps you sane, builds your confidence, and gives you a self-esteem boost to keep you wanting it.  I can only train so many hours a week in this stage of my life.  To be realistic, I shouldn't even be prepared for olympic tris or half-marathons, but I'm doing both.

Out of the many hats I'm wearing these days: Mom, audiologist, board member, teacher, coach, or friend, Triathlete is all for ME, and I want to keep it that way.  Doing it for me, which makes me happy, which makes me a better whatever-hat-I'm-wearing person, which makes it all worth it.

Dr. Jenn's CouplesTherapy, Not Just a Time-Suck

This was Season 1's cast....wait, is that "Guard & Protect" Casey and Vienna from The Bachelor? Hot Dang, I gotta HULU that season!

Does anyone else have voyeuristic tendencies like me and watch Couples Therapy on VH-1 with Dr. Jenn?  Its similar to Dr. Drew's Rehab/Celebrity Rehab, but Dr. Jenn doesn't have that pouty red face like Dr. Drew.  I so hate him but I'm riveted to watch the train wrecks he counsels trying to get clean.  

I have a love-hate relationship with reality TV.  I am well aware that much of it is contrived, and not really "real" but then again, all the interviews I've heard with Lauren Conrad, Kim Kardashian, and the contestants from Bachelor and Survivor say the producers may give them scenarios, and direct them in how its to play out, but the reactions and words come from the "reality TV stars" themselves.  I still don't count these fools as "stars", but whatever.

Couples Therapy is marriage counseling for semi-famous people, and the 2nd season just started.  Dr. Jenn Berman is a therapist I started listening to on Cosmo Radio on XM radio each night for radio therapy for any ailment~ sex, drugs, dying, abuse, etc.  I've listened to her for years.  

Now I get to put a face with the voice and see her on VH-1 each week.  I watch this show and Dr. Drew's show to see how people deal with their lives, whether its drugs, alcohol, anorexia, or marital issues like infidelity, emotional detachment, or verbal abuse.  Almost none of these things have ever been my problems, but I am a people-person, I see and get to know new people every day in my job, and I love to find out more about what makes people tick. Plus I might learn out NOT to act when a weird situation presents itself.

Couples Therapy is particularly interesting to me right now.  I watch the couples interact as I always do around married folk.  I'm in awe of the science experiment of marriage.  How Does It Work?  I curiously watch married people talk to each other and how they fight.  How their tempers flare, and how they play victim or aggressor.  I remember my marriage and how it fell apart, and I compare my actions to those of married people I see everywhere.

I watch couples all the time in my daily life.  At work I see who is the one making the decisions, who is the concerned one, who is passive-aggressive.  Anywhere I'm standing around I watch how people treat each other.  Does the husband care for his wife and get her a pen when she needs it or just point in the direction of the pen holder?  Does she snap at him?  Do they laugh? Do they hold hands, or not touch at all?

Nik and Shayne

On the show, there are clearly problems already that brought them to Dr. Jenn.  One couple is Shayne Lamas and Nik Richie.  Shayne is Lorenzo Lamas' daughter and "won" the Bachelor in the 12th season and Nik created The Dirty, a tabloid website.  She's gorgeous and he's not much to look at but has a sexy voice and seems smooth.  They got married in Vegas 8 hours after having met and have been together for long enough to now have a baby.  She hates that he writes dirty things on his website, and he hates that she runs to the mall when she's mad and spends all his money.  


I like this couple.  They seem like they really love each other, but they barely every look directly AT each other.  I remember being so resentful most of the time I didn't want to look directly at my ex-husband, which was hard because we signed to communicate. But that caused me to just not want to communicate.  A bad marriage is full of avoiding.  Would you ever conduct any other relationship successfully without talking face-to-face?

Shayne and Nik are more real, even as they are "celebrities" (not really for any skill they have, just for throwing themselves into the public eye), and they seem to actually have something that could be fixed.  

Then Dr. Jenn jumped the shark a bit by allowing into the house Courtney Stodden and Doug Hutchison, the couple who's been in the news because she's only 17 (and acts every bit of those 17 ridiculous years) and he's in his 50's and they "fell in love" and got married, with her redneck (no doubt) parents' consent.  

This is her serious face, usually she look like she's on X.

He was a serious actor (in the Green Mile and other good movies) but has lost everything to be with this adolescent tramp.  She acts like this is all fun and games and just another way to get her overly made-up face, fake hair extensions, and underfed tiny body (which she shows off liberally) on more TV.  These two have no chance.  She flaunts her body in public wearing stripper heals and butt-baring shorts, and he follows her around trying to stave off the oglers and would-be rapists wanting to get at her.  He wants the marriage to work, but Courtney can't even understand what marriage means, she's so clueless.  Get these jack-wagons off the show Dr. Jenn, they are ruining your credibility as a therapist.

There's several other couples on the show, some are alcoholics, or sex-aholics, and some are just jerks, but none are as interesting as the two couples above.

Anyway, back to MY reality.  I can watch all the other couples I want on TV or in my own life, but it doesn't really give me confidence in allowing myself to be legally bound to another human being again.  Remarrying terrifies me.  I got a pretty safe thing going on with me, myself, and I (and my girls).  If I want to avoid drama, I just stay home and avoid it.

I know couples who have been through infidelity, and some of those seem to be on the other side and happy again, and others are just co-existing for the kids.  I know couples who work separately, so much so they don't see each other that much.  If they make special time for each other, like meeting for a date as a couple would who are in a Long Distance Relationship (LDR), they can have a spark they visit regularly when they take a break from their busy lives.  

I have parents who don't like each other that much most of the time.  They have both confessed they wished they weren't "stuck" with the other.  This makes me shudder at the thought of my geriatric years in misery.  But then I also know couples who weave seamlessly together their lives, complimenting each other, as in working well together as well as giving each other compliments.  These are the golden couples.  Its rare, and probably not like that all of the time, but these couples make me believe in the possibility of marriage.

My current station in life is to make sure my kids make it through the week and rest up on the weekends.  That's really it.  I do squeeze in a swim, a run, or a ride a few times a week to keep my own sanity, but only if there's time.  My girls' activities take up so much of my time that anything more than the LDR that Sinatra and I currently employ would be difficult to maintain.  Yes, I know people do it.  I know blended families exist.  But how?  With our 5 kids running in opposite directions, and then our exes not being the most cooperative of parents so we could coordinate an "off" weekend for ourselves?  

I have doubts we could make it work right now without injuring our bond. I know that sounds distrustful of what we have.  If anything, I'm distrustful of my own faith in what we have.  He's pretty optimistic about it all.  He and I are in a holding pattern anyway for his court battle with his ex over moving here with the kids.  There isn't a chance he'd be moving here anytime soon.  

My doubts stem from our fear of throwing too much change into the basket at once.  We've both been through a divorce.  We like each other too much to force our togetherness too fast.  Respecting the huge shift in him and his kids' lives if they move here is a huge priority for me.  I don't want to put more strain on their pre-teen and teenage psyches, which have already been tested more than normal with the custody battle.

I have come to recognize I seem to choose the hard way to couplehood.  It may be something inside of me that doesn't think it should be easy, so I don't choose the easy way.  I don't think I've turned away men in my past who would've been easy to love, or easy to live with, but maybe I did.  The men I've been attracted to are always a bit quirky and interesting, and maybe its that I'm drawn to a bit of controversy.  Maybe I'd be a good Reality TV specimen.

No one could call me plain vanilla.  I may have a mundane life of going to work, dealing with the kids, feeding the dogs, and trying to get more than 6 hours of sleep each night, but I try to spice up my life with adventures and new experiences.  Maybe I'm drawn to Reality TV shows because they are as crazy as I'd like to be, even for a day.  

YOLO! Ya Only Live Once

Am I the track, or the coaster? 

YOLO. A new teenager term I learned from my almost-14 year old Lil Lady, last night. She says its from a Drake song and ALL the kids say it. She says she says it to herself when she is afraid of something but wants to do it anyway.

I'm not sure of my feelings on this philosophy~ it sounds dangerous. This is teenager-without-full-frontal-cortex-development-speak.  With age, unfortunately I have become more cautious, i.e. I'm basically am a scaredy-cat about a lot of things.

I have my moments like on my Costa trip when I dared a jump off a natural waterfall. Or skiing down the black slopes in Wyoming, Colorado, and Tahoe.  Maybe its in fake-life, on vacation, that I let down my guard and say "Wheeeee!!".  But in real-life, I'm insuring every damn thing I can think of, buying extra toilet paper, and checking the door locks every night multiple times, and worrying myself silly about where I'm falling short with my kids.

Of course a teenager has a YOLO attitude.  What the hell do they know about fear?  What do they know about ANYTHING?  I was 13 and my biggest concern was acne.  Or the name brand on my jeans.  My teenager doesn't even worry about those things.  She wakes up each day and looks into her closet for her outfit for the day, sees a plethora of choices (thanks to Mom) and carefully selects her look.  Make-up (again thanks to Mom) and hair are meticulously placed for maximum cuteness, and down she goes for breakfast.

I'm a teenager....LALALALALALA!!!

She might stress for half a second if she didn't finish a homework page, but no worries, she has an advisory class set aside for homework catching-up time.  If she fails a test, her teachers give her a "make-up test".  What is this thing?  I don't remember getting all kinds of chances for making better grades.  Oh yeah, I studied and listened and got the A on the first try.  No wonder she is totally comfortable with her Bs on her report card.  I say, You could try harder.  She says, Wow look how well I did without even trying that hard!  Ayiyi....

Do I sound bitter? I'm really not.  I remember those days.  Middle school, high school, and college were THE funnest years of my life, if you are looking in the no-stress-and-worry category.  I did those years to the fullest.  They were great.  But I have to say my life today is better.

And by better I mean crazy busy, stressful, rewarding, and full of fun kiddo moments, fun love of my life moments, and fun friends moments.  Like the dog walks I do with one or the other of my daughters (if I'm lucky both, and they talk, not fight) where we cover their day's activities or upcoming events.  Or like dinners out with Sinatra where he and I sit like Big People at the bar and order yummy concoctions before gorging ourselves on a decadent meal.  Or when I'm doing my nerd-speak about races and training with my friends over wine.  It really doesn't get better than any of that.

I am making the most of my time here.  The rough stuff I worry about is always there, but I will try to take the YOLO teenager approach and do the scary thing anyway.

Crazy Little Thing Called Tri

I've been so caught up in school starting and getting my meager training in and reading OTHER people's blogs about how much training they are doing, I haven't posted in a while.

I love reading athlete blogs.  I have one I read that the girl did the Augusta 70.3 yesterday, and I'm eagerly awaiting her report.  I read another of a friend I've met in my running community about her badass splits on mere training runs, let alone winning or placing in all of the 5ks and 10ks she does.  Another blog is about a lady's adventures while going through her divorce and she swims in the Pacific and hikes Northwestern California's peaks. Fascinating.

So I better get back to reporting on my own athletic endeavors.  This past weekend qualifies.

Waaayyy back in June I was convinced by my two best tri girlfriends, K and K, to sign up for a Half-Iron close by in Kerrville, TX.  My biggest races have been olympic, also called quarter tris, and that was mostly just this year.  My intention was to train and work up to a half-iron, or 70.3, triathlon by next year.

I've been doing sprint level tris for 5 years so this year I'd decided to only sign up for olympic level ones.  Sprint are usually a 500m swim,14-15mile bike, and a 5k run.  The olympic races are usually 1500-1600m swims, 24-28mile bike, and a 10k run.  Almost twice as much.

Last May, I reported here that I did my second olympic tri here in Austin and wasn't thrilled about my swim but otherwise was happy I'd gotten through another big race.  Swim lessons with a tri coach in June gave me confidence to sign up for the Half with K and K.  Now I said it was a Half, but I wasn't signed up to do the whole 70.3, mind you, only the swim leg.  I had gotten better and more comfortable and extended my lessons into July and now swimming is my favorite of the 3 sports.  Shhh, don't tell my bike.

So I volunteered (not really, I had to pay for this) to start off our team 70.3 with the swim portion.  One point two miles in the Brazos River.  I've come to realize all our lakes and rivers around central Texas are pretty gross.  The prettiest I've swam in was Aquarena Springs in San Marcos...a cccold spring with the turtles and fishies and seeing clear to the bottom...but even that had plant life that threatened to rope me.

I kept up my swim class, and did some biking and running too.  I did two more olympic tris, and still didn't feel a groove in that distance.  Except for my swims, my times didn't get better, so my frustration grew.

The Ladies of Tri...and Stevie

Truthfully, I had been slacking way off on the biking and running.  I can ride any day of the week, any distance you throw at me, and all I've ever done was one, maybe two training rides a week.  Cycling isn't a weak spot for me.  Running...jeez running continues to elude me.  I go out on my own and feel okay but in my races I'm sluggish and internally whiney the whole time.  I'm not often happy with my times and I've lost the ability to capture a "runner's high" which I used to get a lot more. But training for running once or twice a week doesn't seem to help.  So I swam.

During our grand plans for the Kerrville Half Relay Tri weekend we got caught up in the nerd-speak race-talk with our training group, Blue Moose.  A pack of all ages/all abilities, we are just a fun group of friends who get together to train and do runs, rides, and tris.  K and K and I decided since we were going down there, we'd go early and do the sprint tri the day before the relay.  Why not? We're badasses, right?  Also it gave me a reason to throw in a ride or run or two while I practiced to swim my one point two miler.

As this past week progressed, the forecasts of rain became more and more dramatic.  90% rain was predicted for Saturday, the day of our sprint. 20% chance on Sunday morning, when I'd do my half-iron swim. I had a million things to do with the kids, as usual, and the idea of trekking 2 hours into a rainstorm, only to have the race cancelled wasn't appealing.  I was getting in a foul mood about the whole weekend.  But the hotel was reserved, the entry fees were nonrefundable and already spent.  I get reimbursed from my BEEF team but not if I don't do the race.  The chance was slim that Saturday's race would be a go, but one of the K's convinced me Kerrville was wine country, so the weekend would not be a bust.

I took a half day off work Friday, which is always a bonus.  Got home and loaded up my car with everything I'd need for two rainy muddy races.  Picked up K and got some serious girl-time talking done on the 2 hour trip down.  You know you'll keep a friend forever when you can talk nonstop about work, kids, men, weight, working out, racing, and wine in the span of 2 hours.  The other K was driving down after work but we kept tabs on her via GPS so we would know when she got in.  The rain began lazily as we pulled into the hotel lot.

Once we all three were there, we got our packets from the on-site registration pick-up and realized we had to rack our bikes before dinner.  It was raining more now.  The bike racking was literally next door to our hotel so we walked our babies over there and left them in the cold unforgiving rain.  We paid some cashola for those babies, so to leave them outdoors uncovered in a deluge of rain is NOT okay with us.  Normally we house them in our living rooms at home for gosh sakes!

This race set-up was different than any of the others I've done.  The bike racking was T-1, or transition 1, and the running start was at a separate, T-2 which was two miles away.  After consulting some race officials and several maps, we figured out where T-2 was, and dredged over there, in the rain.  Yes we drove but in an unfamiliar town, with low dark clouds and constant rain, I was starting to get irritated again.  We had moisture-proof bags with our run-out gear to leave in T-2.  By the time we got back to our car, I'd been in and out of the rain fully clothed and not swimming, biking or running for less than an hour, and it was already pissing me off.

Off to Mamacitas for dinner with Blue Moose and a margarita to calm me down.  I never drink before a race but I had convinced myself it wasn't going to happen, so why not?  By the time I finished my rita, I felt guilty and thought, the law of averages, it would stop raining and we would race, and I'd be hungover.  I quickly switched to water.

As we drifted off to bed, earlier than I would've at home (because of the margarita?), the rain was light but continual and the forecast now predicted at least 60% most of Saturday.  The race officials had said short of lightening the race would go on, but me and my Ks were pretty sure we wouldn't ride our babies in the rain and risk life and limb on slick unfamiliar roads.

Saturday at 6AM we suited up and poked our heads out to see light drizzle.  We know the diehard community of triathletes would smirk at such wetness and persevere.  We are just competitive enough to join that school of thought.  We took the remaining gear over to T-1 and were happy it wasn't cooler since we were starting out wet as it was.  Body-marking done and we had time to make another bathroom break back at the room before putting on our wetsuits.  Well, I did.  The other two were brave enough to go in without.  The water was 75 degrees which is relatively warm but wetsuit-legal.  I figure why not use the sprint to test out my wetsuit which I fully planned to use the next day for the must longer 2K.  I swim at the pool in 82 degrees, and I think that's cool for me.  The temperature outside was about 70 so getting in the water wasn't a shock and off we went.

500 meters is a really short distance for a race. If you can freestyle, like me, you're done in 8-11 minutes.  Even with all my training, I was on the 11 minute side of that.  Too many turns and since I'm not out front I'd get caught up in the traffic and then you are changing direction to avoid flying feet and arms.  If you can't freestyle, like one of the Ks, you are still done in 15.  Easy peasy.  Up the hill (seriously, a hill up to transistion? Thanks!) and on the bike.  I had to stop and let the "strippers" take off my wetsuit.  Literally 4-5 people stand there outside the water and turn you around, unzip you, force you to sit and pull the suit off you lickedly split.

I took off on my bike breathing hard (from that damn hill) and soaking wet.  No need to dry off since it was still spitting slightly.  It could've been worse, the rain was barely noticeable as we took off.  Fast swimmer K was right behind me.  The course was loopy and lots of in-town turns and repeat loops but otherwise I made it through the 15 miles in about 48 minutes.  Apparently many people (without computers on their bikes telling them the mileage) were confused and turned toward the bike finish before they'd done the 2nd outer loop.  Inexperienced riders should invest in a $20 bike computer, so they don't accept awards when they only rode 8 miles instead of 15 (this happened in the sprint relay my training mates did- MY friends did it correctly).

Into T-2, threw on my running shoes and a visor and saw one of the Ks ready to go too.  The other K was just coming in, she made up some serious time from her slow swim on a super fast bike.  I took off with K and the other K came up and passed us both, as she usually does.  She's a runner, hence her doing our run-leg of the relay the next day.  Me and K started out slow and I told her to go ahead if she needed to.  She doesn't like to leave me but she's slightly faster than me so I feel I'm holding her back.  Through the trails and back she was a bit ahead of me, but within sight.  The other K was way ahead and we saw her only after the turnaround.  Her overall time beat us both, I was the slowest of us three, thanks to my run.  But at 1:42 I was pretty happy, since my past sprint tris have all been 1:45 or less.

I had an epiphany after that finish.  I like sprint tris.  I feel good after I'm done and during I don't dread the next leg coming.  In my age group I'm not the slowest.  Sprints are typically what beginners start with so the chances of me placing better are higher.  I know that sounds silly but there are professionals who excel at sprints and continue to do them while they rack up more trophies.  Same with 5ks.  I've placed as high as 7th in a sprint in my age group, women 40-44.  Its usually a fairly large division since triathlon is a popular sport among the just-divorced or bored-with-my-life crowd.  Saturday I placed 9th in my division. Whoo-hoo!

I did all those olympics earlier this season because they were the "next step".  On my way...to what?  Ironman?  I have already decided after watching and reading about friends who are training for Ironman that I don't want to devote that much of my life to triathlon.  As in, I don't want to ruin it.  Its still fun.  Or it was when I was doing sprints.  The olympic races are daunting for me.  Faster, more authentic athletes go for the olympic races.  They are training for half-irons and irons.  Olympics are their stepping stones.  I felt fat and slow at my last few.  At the sprint, I felt great, drizzle and all. I think I've (re)found my niche.

K, Me, and K- Team KiCK It

Next up:  I must work on running more efficiently just as I did the swimming.  I have seen the results in my swimming since my classes started.  I have a friend who is willing to give me a running plan and work with me at the track.  I'm all for that.  I just want to feel better running, like I wanted to feel better swimming.  I got the swimming down and even learned to be faster.  On Sunday, I swam my relay leg for my team.  I felt good, I used my techniques, I kept sighting well, I stayed out of the fray as much as I could but followed buoy to buoy until I finished.  Toward the end I felt good, and I felt like I hadn't swam 1.2 miles.  So much better than I'd felt in previous shorter 1600 meter open water swims.   My friend says he can get me there with running.  Cool beans.

Back to Saturday after our amazing sprint (my training mates relayed it and got FIRST PLACE in spite of those 1-looper bike dummies) my friends and I checked out one of the local wineries.  You throw a rock around that area and you're gonna hit a winery.  This one came highly recommended by my training mates.  They took us there and we did a tasting.  All the while talking our nerdy race talk.  We've been training together for over a year now so there's plenty of material.  The wine loosened us up and we talked for hours.

A few grapes at The Chisholm Trail Winery

This adult-time is precious and so necessary for me to grow as an athlete and as a 40+ adult.  I missed Sinatra immensely because I know he would've loved every minute of it, but he was home being a dad to his kids.  It wasn't his time to nurture his me-time.  He fits in with this crowd perfectly and we all have such good times.  We will have other weekends and he will be there.  These are my friends for life and the fact that they are my friends have enriched my life just as much as triathlon has over these last 6 years.  There's more to learn in my training, in my races, and in my friendships.  Cool beans, and pass the wine.

In My Mind's Eye, I Totally Work It

In my 40s I have been challenged with my weight and my physique, watching it go up and down, in and out, but never landing where I want it.  I have figured out my Hormones and my Hunger are in control and my Mind who wants to wear sundresses and bikinis and only a sports bra to run in, has to sit in the back seat while the other two hoodlums do the driving.

I think I look like this...

But I really look like this...

I work out, yes.  But lately nothing changes whether its a lot or a little exercise.  I don't feel good if I work out only a little so I continue to try to do SOMETHING almost every day. I weigh myself every day.  I fluctuate 4-6 lbs over the course of a month.  Its maddening.  If I am not changing much of my routine or my food, then why do I float around in the 150s that much?  

Thanks Brightroom!

Food.  I do like food.  I have done Weight Watchers, juicing, and online diet plans and dropped down some, but only at most 8-10lbs max.  Then I bottom out.  Eight to ten pounds is a lot on my frame, and I have loved it when it works but as I've crept into my 40s, it takes grander and more extreme dieting to make a dent.  Did I mention I like food?   Its about portion control and the healthy food pyramid I am certain.  But I know I'm not willing to sacrifice like the pros.  Not many people would, so I'm not alone there. I'd love to juice at least once a day, but who has time to clean up that damn juicer?

As much as I like food (and because I do), I hate race pictures.  They are the over-priced "professional" pictures taken by the photography companies that work 5Ks and marathons and triathlons.  Sometimes the photographer lays on the ground to get that shot of us running or cycling by.  This never works.  Depending on how close they get to me when they snap the shot,  I look like a two-ton gorilla, or my head is too big for my body, or my leg fat is billowing in a downward motion.

As in the photos displayed here,  I tend toward a hulkish rather than girlish figure, all massive arms and popping booty in a form-fitting wetsuit or on a skinny little bike.  I am well aware I weigh twice as much, if not more, than that bike.  If it wasn't for the bike, I'd never make it up those hills, that's for sure.  Don't get me started on how unforgiving spandex is.  Thank God everyone out there wears pretty much the same thing so I'm never the worst one.

Lots of Junk in that Trunk

I have been in better shape than I am currently but I never have nor will look like Ms. Desiree Ficker (see above), multiple Ironman top-five finisher and awesome triathlete from my town of Austin, TX.  Underneath all my mass, I might look like her, but I have yet to find the secret to unlocking my potentially (and alleged) tiny underframe.

Work that bike, Girl...

When I pose for pictures I can turn my angles and work it so I look more fit than I am.  Like an overweight mom who's Facebook profile picture is her happy face over the shoulder of her child, who's she's hiding her body behind, I use props to camouflage certain undesirable body parts as well.  Thank you Skinny Bike! Sans the props, I go for the legs together-facing front-biceps at my side-neck prolonged, I look like I have more muscle than fat.  I can work with that.

I just rode 36 hilly miles here, so who cares if I'm fat?

But alas, in the professional race picture, when I am in flight, my limbs out of my control, and angles nowhere in sight, you get what you get.  It ain't always pretty.  But so disheartening when you have felt like a champion and finished something you didn't think you could, but then see pictures that make you look like someone people may think didn't even train for this.  Or didn't train enough.  Or didn't take it seriously.

Happy I'm almost finished and out of the spandex

NOT my best angle

Of course I shouldn't compare myself with the super-fit elite athletes who don't eat anything preserved, and  grow their own organic veggies in their backyards, and who workout every day for hours.  Again, not likely to ever be me.  I do take my racing seriously, and within the scope of my life, with my kids and job and dogs and boyfriend and boyfriend's kids and parents and friends, I do all I can and make the best of it.  I have been more fit in the past, but I've never been this busy.  

My Hunger and Hormones will eat do what they may, but I must champion my Mind to see the healthy girl I am, not magazine cover-perfect, but strong and worthy of being out there with all those other athletes of all shapes and sizes.  Mind, free yourself.

You're still a BadAss, lumps and all

Nothing Worth It Comes Easy..at Least Not For Me

I think back to my childhood and have fond memories of growing up in a neighborhood I could roam freely and had friends on every corner.  I am lucky to still have those friends in my life today.  I had two parents who provided for me, and even as I grew into a moody teenager and thought they were too strict when I had a curfew earlier than most, or had to wait to get clothes I wanted when they were "on sale", or had to share a room with my sister, it was a good life.  As I tell my 13 year old "No" or make her earn her allowance with real chores, I smile to myself because I know I'm teaching her the valuable lessons I was made to learn.  I will scold my kids in front of their friends, which mortifies them, but I even want THEM to know my kids can't get away with murder and live to tell about it.  Life ain't easy, Kids.

I worked my chores or baby-sat for my parents' friends to earn money.  It is why I have worked ever since I've been out of college and why I know I'd prefer to work, than to stay home with my kids, if I was given the choice (I wasn't).  Nothing has been handed to me.

Okay so no, growing up I didn't work to put food on our table, or to buy myself my first car, or even to send myself to college, but I always knew the meaning of the word "work" as a child and teenager.  I try to teach my children there isn't an endless supply of money and that I must hold off on this or that purchase until I have the money.  They must realize the bank isn't spewing out an endless trail of cash to Mama.

I was pretty damn sure of myself, no?

I reflect back on other struggles I've worked out growing up.  Things I tried out for, I didn't always make.  An acting class at about age 11, I got the umpire part, which gave me exactly three lines~ "Strike One", "Strike Two", and "Strike Three".  Not my idea of a stellar debut.

More devastating was being in 8th grade at a "new" school, the public school we were districted to, but I had gone to a private Catholic school for 6th and 7th.  I had trouble in Catholic school with girl-fighting and gossipy social drama, so I begged my mom to send me back to public school where all my elementary friends were flourishing.  I had been a 7th grade cheerleader at the private school but was not at the public school at the end of 7th to be able to try out for cheerleader for 8th grade.  Therefore, I was no longer a cheerleader, something I loved dearly.  What was worse? All of my neighborhood and elementary school friends going to that public school MADE CHEERLEADER.  I remember sitting at the mall food court that summer before and I saw my cross-the-street neighbor and our other friends.  They came over to my table and one-by-one said "I made cheerleader!"...each and every one of the four of them.  I smiled and congratulated them (because that's what a nice person does), but inside I cried.

I spent my 8th grade year cheering on the sidelines in my volleyball uniform or my regular clothes because I knew every cheer since all my free time was spent with these girls.  I was okay with it pretty quickly.  It built character, even if I didn't know it at the time.

My freshman year in high school I tried out and made the freshman squad for our drill team.  So did  all my friends, except for a few who were clearly better dancers and were moved up into the "real" squad as freshmen.  Enjoyed my time that year, except for the occasional rudeness of the seniors who felt the need to haze us "Reserves" because we were less-than in their eyes.  At the end of that year it came to be time to try out for the main squad.  I was too-cool-for-school and my same friends who were excited cheerleaders the year before were not that into the drill team anymore.  They were moving on to sports like volleyball and tennis so as a group we didn't try very hard at our try-out dance.  I didn't make the main squad.

Suddenly I realized I WANTED to be on the real squad.  THIS was what I was doing with my high school career, not sports.  I had another chance.  I could go to the Reserves summer camp, with the incoming freshman, and learn what I'd already been taught, and try out again at the end of the summer.  As a sophomore, this was a huge bitter pill to swallow, but pride be-damned, I did it.  I sucked it up and got through the camp, the try-out, and made it.  Did I appreciate the spot on the main squad a little bit more than the other girls who'd made it as freshmen?  I think so.

School grades and classes came easy to me, thankfully.  I did not worry about getting into the college of my choice because back then they took the top 10%, no questioned asked.  That was me.  My SATs weren't great, but luckily my entrance wasn't hinging on those.  At college academics were never a struggle for me.  Again I tried out for the dance-team there, and didn't make it.  I was disappointed but the girls who made it were really, really good, so I moved on.  I didn't live on campus and wasn't in a sorority (another "no" from my parents) so finding friends was my struggle.  I joined my college's student council and that helped but I spent my first two years without any close friends to hang out with, other than my roommate who was from my hometown but a year older and in a different major.  Eventually my classes for my major produced friends who were in all my classes and my study partners.  We socialized and became involved in each others' boy-troubles and family lives.  Those years weren't easy but eventually I gained confidence from making the best of them.

As an adult, I didn't find the love-of-my-life easily.  I struggled through my 20s dating guys who weren't really that into me, and even with my ex-husband I was never sure he was "the one".  Clearly he wasn't.  He was nice to me and a nice guy in general, but he came with a host of issues that stem from his growing up with doting parents and in a society who views his deafness as a pass from working hard or expecting much from him.  He IS a nice guy, and his disability does cause him strife, but he never would gut it out where I could respect him for his determination and successes.

A divorce, a broken rebound relationship, and a bout with cancer later , I am happily independent and raising two daughters of my own.  My struggles, hard work, and lessons learned DO put food on our table, and cute clothes on their backs, and nice travels and new cars for myself.  My workplace is not a struggle other than normal office politics and cranky customers at times.  I have enough money to cover the basics plus some extras.  My family and friends are close by me and are my outlet from doing it all myself.  Love life? Going swell.  I have found "the one" I believe.  I love my Sinatra because he is a ying to my yang and he adores me and my girls and he understands my life, even from 200 miles away.  But easy? No.  Not hardly.

Love, yes. Bluebonnets and rainbows? Not always.

We are at a crossroads right now.  Coming off a honeymoon-style beach vacation where we laughed and often said "I love you" just out of gratitude for the time together, we were hit the next Monday with reality.  The horrible reality that the courts and his ex will not allow us to be together as the family we envisioned.  Nothing has been written in stone, but a report by the court's liaison to the judge suggested he stay with his kids in the county they live in, where the kids have been most of their lives.  For the best interest of the kids, they should be near their mother, and not allowed to move with their dad 200 miles away.  In 3 weeks the judge will look at this report, and listen to his lawyer's protests and her lawyer's protests and decide where MY life will be going in the next months and years to come.

It sounds selfish, worrying about MY life.  Its not about me and Sinatra living happy every after.  These kids don't deserve to be made to choose.  Their parents must agree to something that will affect their lives forevermore.  Up to this point, no agreement has been even close to being made.  My inclination is to not stress out the kids and let them live with Sinatra in their home as it is and has been.  Unselfish maybe, but it rips my heart apart to offer that.  It isn't really mine to offer, it will be decided without my input.  My name and involvement was barely mentioned in the court's report, as if I'm a concerned once-removed extended family member but not a player.  He wants to "fight" to be able to move, but to what end?  A bitter mother who subtly or not-so-subtly will make the kids feel like shit for choosing to remain with dad, and Sinatra hauling them all here and the kids regretting everything that isn't what they've always known?  I know kids are made to relocate all the time, but with both parents on board and supportive...making the move a safe place.  This could be anything but a safe place after the lawyers are done with them.

My biggest struggle here is this situation is out of my hands.  I've never been good with that.  I mull over the options with Sinatra and give my advice and opinions, whether he wants them or not.  I am not a wallflower. Therefore I have the backbone and resolve to let go of a losing situation.  I've done it twice before in love, and I survived.  But this time is different.  I am not letting go of the love I have with Sinatra.  I won't let him slip away as my future.  But if we are destined to take the high road, which is of course the harder road, then we will have to revise the definition of our future.

I will find a way to not resent the times I need him here and he isn't due to come for days.  I will gut it out and not feel sad when I attend my kids' functions and games without him by my side.  I will work with their schedules for holidays and vacations.  I don't have a choice here, but I can choose how to react to this.  It may be my life's most difficult struggle, but it may reap the best reward in the end.