By "typical" I mean an adventure where if something can go wrong, it does go wrong.
My sister is so excited that she can show off all the great surf spots to my husband. Forgive me as I'm about to sound like a total whiner that doesn't deserve sympathy, but I'm less than excited.
Most people would probably be excited getting to spend a day at the beach with the kids, sitting in the beautiful weather of southern California, and having an outing as an extended family.
While in theory that actually sounds nice to me as well, I have a little less fun when I factor in the practicalities: an hour of packing up for my daughter and I while my husband, who has packed his board and is ready to go wonders what is taking us so long, a 45-minute drive to a beach that is not discernably different to me than the one 2 minutes away, but that has "better waves" which is why we must go there instead, yet another sunburn since my sunscreen doesn't seem to be working on me, a fair amount of time on discipline trying to keep my water-confident 4-year-old from drowning herself, the horrendous amounts of sand in our stuff and my car, the long hike to the bathroom (at least they had one), irrationally priced food at the hot dog stand, no book to read since I finished the one I brought, and to top it off, it still hurts my back to sit in a pike position for that long.
Oh poor me, stuck on the beach. Like I said, I'm only going to come across as the world's biggest whiner about this.
Whiner or not, I wasn't exactly excited about the trip. I hadn't been clear as to whether or not we were actually going, so hadn't started packing/loading the car, so everyone was annoyed they had to wait for me. We finally set off and I'm following my sister down the road.
About 20-25 minutes away, my phone rings, which I have my husband answer because I can't get my headset working. He informs me that my nephew apparently isn't feeling well so if my sister suddenly pulls over, that's why.
From personal experience, I know that my sister prefers to pull over in what she feels is just the right place to park her car. For example, we went to Knott's Berry Farm last year. I refused to pay $8.00 for a hot dog and decided that a Cherry Icee sounded much more refreshing, so got that instead. Unfortunately, it was super hot, I was dehydrated (water is $4.00 for a half liter, which I also refused to pay), and I was taking Tramadol, which I learned about 8 months later was causing my migraines that were bad enough to upset my stomach. Severely.
In other words, add rides and it was a perfect combination for stomach reverse pyrotechnics. I wasn't feeling too great--although it was mostly a headache--when we left the amusement park, and was okay on the freeway, as long as I was staring at the lines on the road. Once we exited and took all of two turns, I was no longer doing "okay." In fact, I was doing extremely NOT OKAY, clenching my teeth, holding my hands over my mouth, and trying to communicate through grunts that I needed her to pull over NOW.
She drove past a completely empty fire emergency zone (I later explained that it WAS an emergency and I would pay ANY ticket in the future if she would just use it), two more blocks where she could have blocked driveways, at a minimum, then made another turn, went another block, and finally pulled over in a legal parking space about four or five blocks and two minutes later than I really needed it.
Somehow, through self-control that I think was only due to me not wanting to clean up a mess in her car, I managed to wait. Before she had brought the car to a complete stop, I had already opened the door and was beginning to climb over my nephew, which she was screaming at me about. I hadn't even closed the car door before, um, exhibiting my illness.
You know how 8-year-old boys think burps and farts are the absolute ultimate funniest things ever? Well, my 4-year-old nephew thinks someone practicing reverse digestion is even funnier. So he's having a laugh attack at the expense of my discomfort, while everyone else in the car is so repulsed, they're fighting reflexive urges to join me.
So, like I said, from experience, I know that she takes awhile to find just the right spot to park.
As opposed to cutting off other drivers to get the hell over to the side of the road NOW.
So when she signalled a turn, left her blinker on, and pulled into a parking lot a half mile away, I knew that there would already be a mess in the car.
I may have been able to hold it in, but the kid is only 4.
Turns out he didn't want to ruin his beach bucket, either, so instead the whole backseat was turned into a biohazard.
I grabbed a pack of baby wipes and some garbage sacks from my car and went to go help. Unfortunately, I am not good with cleaning up that kind of mess and after handing my nephew some wipes and telling him to wipe himself off, I had to bolt.
As I was heading back to my car, I passed my husband and told him to please explain to my sister that I had to leave or I would be adding to the disaster.
We spent probably 20 minutes waiting while my husband kindly helped clean up. During this time, my daughter announced that she had to go potty. Of course, there was not a bathroom or even a building in sight that she might be able to use.
I informed her that she would have to pretend like she was a doggie and proceeded to teach my daughter how to squat and pee and (hopefully) not hit her feet. She did a remarkably good job and was a good sport about it.
She spent the rest of the day telling anyone who would listen (including random strangers) that she got to go potty under a tree!
I'm so proud.
Wednesday, June 29, 2011
Monday, June 27, 2011
A Day Not at the Movies
This morning I went in to wake up my husband. I leaned in close, and he stared back at me, groggily.
Me (knowing he can't see anything without his glasses or contacts): I'm just a fuzzy blob, aren't I?
Him: No. You're a fuzzy cyclops.
My sister wanted to take the kids to a matinee movie and Cars 2 was playing, which she knew her son would enjoy. She was trying desperately to keep my 11-month-old niece awake so that she would nap during the movie.
Of course, 11-month olds often have other plans, and my niece zonked out during lunch. I actually did want to see the movie, but felt like between the packing day, the long drive, and yesterday's not-relaxing-for-me beach trip, I just wanted some "down" time, so I volunteered to stay behind with my niece.
Plus my sister really needs a break as my niece is going through a separation anxiety phase where Mommy must be present, and preferably in physical contact with her, at all times.
So off went my sister, my husband, and the four-year-olds.
Right as the movie was scheduled to start, my niece woke up. I was just about to panic when she dozed back off. She did, however, wake up fully about an hour and a half later, and NOTHING I did would settle her down. Since my sister wears her a lot in a baby carrier, I decided I would try walking around with her tied to me. I grabbed a sheet out of the linen closet, tied her to my back, and started marching around the tree in the front yard.
She finally quieted down. It only took a couple of minutes.
Unfortunately, if I quit marching around the tree, she started crying again. I thought maybe I'd take her inside and see if I could feed her.
She swatted away the bottle.
She spit the cereal all over me, proclaiming loudly, "DUM-DUM!"
Fantastic. My 11-month-old niece's third word is calling her auntie, "Dum dum."
I tied her back onto my back, went out to the car to get an umbrella (for shade), and started walking around the complex. It would have been a really nice walk and I would have kept going, but the extra weight was really hurting my back.
And just thinking that made me feel like I am whining about my back again, which I thought I'd gotten away from. When it's not hurting, I feel "normal" and don't think about it. When it is hurting, it is all I can think about--including how I don't want to do anything else because all I can think about is how much it will hurting during and how much more it will hurt after.
But at this point, my niece was winning out.
I finally caved and called my sister, who told me they were going to be leaving shortly and would come straight back.
When they arrived, I was marching around the tree again. My sister took over, my niece immediately calmed down, and I went and laid down.
Despite the migraines I know they cause, I caved and took pain medication tonight. I hurt so much I decided I would rather spend tomorrow trying to fight off a headache than unable to sleep due to pain.
Also, I've had this weird insomnia here. I've had problems sleeping, which have bothered me, but it's been magnified on this trip. The 400-page book I brought down to read (which was the only book I brought because I didn't even think I'd have the opportunity to finish it) I completed at 5:30 a.m. leaving me with about 1.5 hours of sleep last night, so the nap I took this afternoon (3 hours) left everyone wondering what was wrong with me, but still left me very short on sleep.
Yes, the book was good, no I didn't want to put it down, but I did anyway, multiple times, and when I still couldn't sleep, I picked it back up. After finishing it, I remained awake, staring out the window until the sky began to turn color.
Hopefully tonight I can level back out.
Me (knowing he can't see anything without his glasses or contacts): I'm just a fuzzy blob, aren't I?
Him: No. You're a fuzzy cyclops.
My sister wanted to take the kids to a matinee movie and Cars 2 was playing, which she knew her son would enjoy. She was trying desperately to keep my 11-month-old niece awake so that she would nap during the movie.
Of course, 11-month olds often have other plans, and my niece zonked out during lunch. I actually did want to see the movie, but felt like between the packing day, the long drive, and yesterday's not-relaxing-for-me beach trip, I just wanted some "down" time, so I volunteered to stay behind with my niece.
Plus my sister really needs a break as my niece is going through a separation anxiety phase where Mommy must be present, and preferably in physical contact with her, at all times.
So off went my sister, my husband, and the four-year-olds.
Right as the movie was scheduled to start, my niece woke up. I was just about to panic when she dozed back off. She did, however, wake up fully about an hour and a half later, and NOTHING I did would settle her down. Since my sister wears her a lot in a baby carrier, I decided I would try walking around with her tied to me. I grabbed a sheet out of the linen closet, tied her to my back, and started marching around the tree in the front yard.
She finally quieted down. It only took a couple of minutes.
Unfortunately, if I quit marching around the tree, she started crying again. I thought maybe I'd take her inside and see if I could feed her.
She swatted away the bottle.
She spit the cereal all over me, proclaiming loudly, "DUM-DUM!"
Fantastic. My 11-month-old niece's third word is calling her auntie, "Dum dum."
I tied her back onto my back, went out to the car to get an umbrella (for shade), and started walking around the complex. It would have been a really nice walk and I would have kept going, but the extra weight was really hurting my back.
And just thinking that made me feel like I am whining about my back again, which I thought I'd gotten away from. When it's not hurting, I feel "normal" and don't think about it. When it is hurting, it is all I can think about--including how I don't want to do anything else because all I can think about is how much it will hurting during and how much more it will hurt after.
But at this point, my niece was winning out.
I finally caved and called my sister, who told me they were going to be leaving shortly and would come straight back.
When they arrived, I was marching around the tree again. My sister took over, my niece immediately calmed down, and I went and laid down.
Despite the migraines I know they cause, I caved and took pain medication tonight. I hurt so much I decided I would rather spend tomorrow trying to fight off a headache than unable to sleep due to pain.
Also, I've had this weird insomnia here. I've had problems sleeping, which have bothered me, but it's been magnified on this trip. The 400-page book I brought down to read (which was the only book I brought because I didn't even think I'd have the opportunity to finish it) I completed at 5:30 a.m. leaving me with about 1.5 hours of sleep last night, so the nap I took this afternoon (3 hours) left everyone wondering what was wrong with me, but still left me very short on sleep.
Yes, the book was good, no I didn't want to put it down, but I did anyway, multiple times, and when I still couldn't sleep, I picked it back up. After finishing it, I remained awake, staring out the window until the sky began to turn color.
Hopefully tonight I can level back out.
Sunday, June 26, 2011
Actual Vacation, Day 1
Excited to be at my sister's house, even though it's like walking into a heat wave in comparison to be at home, I was all ready to . . .
. . . do nothing.
Well, nothing in terms of worrying about day-to-day stuff I think about at home, although part of the intention of this trip was to help her out with packing for her upcoming move in addition to helping out with adding three people to her household (meals, cleaning, laundry, etc.).
My sister was all excited to get me on the paddleboard again. Having done it once, I didn't have any objections to the actual activity.
I had severe objections to the water temperature. Considering my (lack of) success before, I was in no hurry to go dump myself in that cold of water.
My husband went out instead and I spent a good hour or more listening to my sister tell me you should go out, you did it before, why won't you go out, look, the kids are playing in the water, you should go out.
I know she means well. However, it has taken her probably 20 years to understand that I am not interested in surfing. She has finally quit bugging me on that one. Her idea of great fun involves a beach and some form of individual water sport--preferably one with waves. My idea of great fun is more likely to involve snow, although since my back injury, I haven't been on a snowboard. Since my injury, I've actually become a bit more interested in more sedentary things, like quilting, which don't tend to aggravate my back so much.
Ironically, reading a book (which I was thoroughly enjoying) while sitting on the beach in a pike position wasn't doing much for my back and I ended up pretty stiff for the rest of the day. I also got sunburned, which was more annoying than painful--I take really great care in coating myself with sunscreen and reapplying due to the skin cancer history in my family. I had my husband coat me with Biafine, an over-the-counter topical ointment we get in Morocco, but that requires a prescription here. The stuff is fantastic.
I just wish I didn't need it.
. . . do nothing.
Well, nothing in terms of worrying about day-to-day stuff I think about at home, although part of the intention of this trip was to help her out with packing for her upcoming move in addition to helping out with adding three people to her household (meals, cleaning, laundry, etc.).
My sister was all excited to get me on the paddleboard again. Having done it once, I didn't have any objections to the actual activity.
I had severe objections to the water temperature. Considering my (lack of) success before, I was in no hurry to go dump myself in that cold of water.
My husband went out instead and I spent a good hour or more listening to my sister tell me you should go out, you did it before, why won't you go out, look, the kids are playing in the water, you should go out.
I know she means well. However, it has taken her probably 20 years to understand that I am not interested in surfing. She has finally quit bugging me on that one. Her idea of great fun involves a beach and some form of individual water sport--preferably one with waves. My idea of great fun is more likely to involve snow, although since my back injury, I haven't been on a snowboard. Since my injury, I've actually become a bit more interested in more sedentary things, like quilting, which don't tend to aggravate my back so much.
Ironically, reading a book (which I was thoroughly enjoying) while sitting on the beach in a pike position wasn't doing much for my back and I ended up pretty stiff for the rest of the day. I also got sunburned, which was more annoying than painful--I take really great care in coating myself with sunscreen and reapplying due to the skin cancer history in my family. I had my husband coat me with Biafine, an over-the-counter topical ointment we get in Morocco, but that requires a prescription here. The stuff is fantastic.
I just wish I didn't need it.
Saturday, June 25, 2011
If Driving Were Exercise, Today Was the Ironman
After not nearly enough sleep, I got up and loaded the car in the dark. I spent a fair amount of time loading my bike and my daughter's bike onto the rack we borrowed from a friend. I was a little worried about the straps, which were fully intact, but the webbing on them seemed brittle.
Once I had them strapped on, I had my husband check. He decided they needed to be cranked on more tightly and it wasn't until he'd been pulling a bit that I noticed he was bending the spoiler beneath my bumper on my car.
So apparently it was as tight as it was going to get.
We loaded a tired four-year-old into her car seat, which was the only open space in the car. I'd even filled the space below her feet with a suitcase. I did manage to leave enough room to see out the windows though, so I was quite pleased with my packing capabilities, especially considering we had crammed the following things into the car:
boogie board, with wetsuit, fins, and other gear
box of hand-me-downs for my niece
overdue and unfinished quilt for my sister (this was actually quite large)
bike gear (helmet, shoes, toolkit, etc)
my husband's 2 clothing bags
my clothing bag
my daughter's clothing bag
2 pillows (I'm picky)
variety of presents for my nephew and niece
2 laptop computers
"entertainment" bag for my daughter
cooler tote bag with food
snack food bag
box of craft supplies, books, and other entertainment for me
my giant mom purse
beach towels and toys
Items we left at home:
healthy food for the road trip, in the fridge.
Oops.
I pulled over for our first stop in Eugene, where I got coffee and we got gas.
My dad and I have driven this route a couple of times together now. On the first one, I remember pointing out a mountain and saying, "I love seeing Mt. Shasta because I feel like we're really on our way and have such a good chunk of the trip behind us." He immediately pointed out that it was not Mt. Shasta and we had a ways to go before seeing it.
On this trip, my husband pointed out to our daughter--at the same location--"Look, there's Mt. Shasta!" I was able to inform him that no, it's not Mt. Shasta, and we would have another good 45 minutes before we would even see Mt. Shasta.
I don't know how far into California we were, but all of a sudden, my husband says, "OH! I recognize this road now!"
Me (sarcastically): Really?
Him (missing the sarcasm): Yeah, with the orchards and stuff.
Me (more sarcasm): Just now?
Him: Yes. . . (finally detecting the sarcasm) . . . why are you looking at me like that?
Me: Because we're on I-5 and have been for the last 450 miles.
The rest of the trip was pretty uneventful. At one point, we did switch drivers--normally my husband doesn't like to drive because he so rarely drives a standard transmission that he is less than confident with it. I was simply too tired to safely continue. Unfortunately, just a few miles down the road, he realized he couldn't find his phone and we had a period of panic where we were trying to figure out if we had to go back to the last rest area and get it. Turns out it was still in the car.
We stopped at what I now consider the "usual" place for dinner: the Panda Express just north of the mountains north of LA--about 1.5 hours from my sister's place. It seemed like such a good idea, but unfortunately, I think there is only so much Panda Express my body can handle in a lifetime and I have crossed that threshold. The really nice thing about stopping in that area is it is a perfect "last stop" prior to getting to my sister's place.
We arrived at my sister's housing complex around 9:30 p.m. My brother-in-law met us at the gate to have the military police allow us in.
The cousins were SO excited to see each other that we decided to let my daughter sleep on the floor in her cousin's bedroom. After storytime, they both crashed.
Once I had them strapped on, I had my husband check. He decided they needed to be cranked on more tightly and it wasn't until he'd been pulling a bit that I noticed he was bending the spoiler beneath my bumper on my car.
So apparently it was as tight as it was going to get.
We loaded a tired four-year-old into her car seat, which was the only open space in the car. I'd even filled the space below her feet with a suitcase. I did manage to leave enough room to see out the windows though, so I was quite pleased with my packing capabilities, especially considering we had crammed the following things into the car:
boogie board, with wetsuit, fins, and other gear
box of hand-me-downs for my niece
overdue and unfinished quilt for my sister (this was actually quite large)
bike gear (helmet, shoes, toolkit, etc)
my husband's 2 clothing bags
my clothing bag
my daughter's clothing bag
2 pillows (I'm picky)
variety of presents for my nephew and niece
2 laptop computers
"entertainment" bag for my daughter
cooler tote bag with food
snack food bag
box of craft supplies, books, and other entertainment for me
my giant mom purse
beach towels and toys
Items we left at home:
healthy food for the road trip, in the fridge.
Oops.
I pulled over for our first stop in Eugene, where I got coffee and we got gas.
My dad and I have driven this route a couple of times together now. On the first one, I remember pointing out a mountain and saying, "I love seeing Mt. Shasta because I feel like we're really on our way and have such a good chunk of the trip behind us." He immediately pointed out that it was not Mt. Shasta and we had a ways to go before seeing it.
On this trip, my husband pointed out to our daughter--at the same location--"Look, there's Mt. Shasta!" I was able to inform him that no, it's not Mt. Shasta, and we would have another good 45 minutes before we would even see Mt. Shasta.
I don't know how far into California we were, but all of a sudden, my husband says, "OH! I recognize this road now!"
Me (sarcastically): Really?
Him (missing the sarcasm): Yeah, with the orchards and stuff.
Me (more sarcasm): Just now?
Him: Yes. . . (finally detecting the sarcasm) . . . why are you looking at me like that?
Me: Because we're on I-5 and have been for the last 450 miles.
The rest of the trip was pretty uneventful. At one point, we did switch drivers--normally my husband doesn't like to drive because he so rarely drives a standard transmission that he is less than confident with it. I was simply too tired to safely continue. Unfortunately, just a few miles down the road, he realized he couldn't find his phone and we had a period of panic where we were trying to figure out if we had to go back to the last rest area and get it. Turns out it was still in the car.
We stopped at what I now consider the "usual" place for dinner: the Panda Express just north of the mountains north of LA--about 1.5 hours from my sister's place. It seemed like such a good idea, but unfortunately, I think there is only so much Panda Express my body can handle in a lifetime and I have crossed that threshold. The really nice thing about stopping in that area is it is a perfect "last stop" prior to getting to my sister's place.
We arrived at my sister's housing complex around 9:30 p.m. My brother-in-law met us at the gate to have the military police allow us in.
The cousins were SO excited to see each other that we decided to let my daughter sleep on the floor in her cousin's bedroom. After storytime, they both crashed.
Friday, June 24, 2011
Running on Moroccan Time, Again.
We were supposed to leave for vacation today.
The plan was simple: we were supposed have everything packed by last night, my husband was supposed go to work and my daughter to her preschool, I would pack, and my husband was supposed leave work (presumably by 1:00), bringing our daughter home with him, and we would drive away.
We were supposed to stay in a hotel about 400=500 miles from our home, just under halfway to our destination.
Supposed to.
So we hit a few "bumps" in our organizational plan, although, I will say that this has been the closest we've ever been to being organized for a vacation.
What caused all the problems?
Well, some of it, I have to admit, was me. I've been working on a quilt for my sister for about five years now. Just so you know, by "working on" I mean madly sewing in 1-2 spurts and then setting it down for a few months when the sewing machine is put away. The idea was I would have the quilt completed for this trip. I didn't have that much left to do, or so I thought, but as usual, everything ends up differently than expected. For one, the fabric chosen for the backing ended up being stretchy, which is NOT a good quality in a quilting fabric--but my sister liked the print and honestly, we hadn't really realized it was NOT a quilting fabric or that it had a stretch to it.
This was just one of the problems I encountered. I could probably start a quilting blog to detail the rest of them, but I won't bore you with posting all that here.
Then, it turns out my husband didn't understand what I meant by "leave work early." His idea of this was 3:00 or 4:00 and since he's in the middle of a big project with deadlines, well, let's just say somewhere the communication broke down on this one.
Eventually between the quilting challenges, us not being totally packed, and his inability to leave work early, and just plain being us, I decided that I would rather do the whole 1000-mile, 16-17 hour drive in one shot than drive for 2-3 hours, unload the car at a hotel, sleep, reload the car, and drive for 13-15 more hours. Silly.
In the process of getting ready, I had borrowed a bike rack, which I had to "MacGyver" to fit my car with some dollar-store pool noodles and electrician's tape. Nothing fancy, but it would work and I was glad that I would be able to 1) take my bike on the trip and 2) without cramming it inside my car.
So we packed up everything, piled it into the living room, and went to bed.
Only 24 hours behind schedule.
The plan was simple: we were supposed have everything packed by last night, my husband was supposed go to work and my daughter to her preschool, I would pack, and my husband was supposed leave work (presumably by 1:00), bringing our daughter home with him, and we would drive away.
We were supposed to stay in a hotel about 400=500 miles from our home, just under halfway to our destination.
Supposed to.
So we hit a few "bumps" in our organizational plan, although, I will say that this has been the closest we've ever been to being organized for a vacation.
What caused all the problems?
Well, some of it, I have to admit, was me. I've been working on a quilt for my sister for about five years now. Just so you know, by "working on" I mean madly sewing in 1-2 spurts and then setting it down for a few months when the sewing machine is put away. The idea was I would have the quilt completed for this trip. I didn't have that much left to do, or so I thought, but as usual, everything ends up differently than expected. For one, the fabric chosen for the backing ended up being stretchy, which is NOT a good quality in a quilting fabric--but my sister liked the print and honestly, we hadn't really realized it was NOT a quilting fabric or that it had a stretch to it.
This was just one of the problems I encountered. I could probably start a quilting blog to detail the rest of them, but I won't bore you with posting all that here.
Then, it turns out my husband didn't understand what I meant by "leave work early." His idea of this was 3:00 or 4:00 and since he's in the middle of a big project with deadlines, well, let's just say somewhere the communication broke down on this one.
Eventually between the quilting challenges, us not being totally packed, and his inability to leave work early, and just plain being us, I decided that I would rather do the whole 1000-mile, 16-17 hour drive in one shot than drive for 2-3 hours, unload the car at a hotel, sleep, reload the car, and drive for 13-15 more hours. Silly.
In the process of getting ready, I had borrowed a bike rack, which I had to "MacGyver" to fit my car with some dollar-store pool noodles and electrician's tape. Nothing fancy, but it would work and I was glad that I would be able to 1) take my bike on the trip and 2) without cramming it inside my car.
So we packed up everything, piled it into the living room, and went to bed.
Only 24 hours behind schedule.
Saturday, June 11, 2011
One of Those Days. . .
. . . where maybe I should have just stayed in bed.
For starters, I was so wound up last night with everything I had to do that I Could. Not. Get. To. Sleep. I finally drifted off around 3:00 am, but my alarm went off at 5:00.
My husband wasn't yet home as he was still working at the food cart. Honestly, I was so tired and unmotivated that I was kind of hoping he'd get home too late for me to leave by 6:00, like I needed to in order to arrive at my triathlon on time.
He got home at 5:40, encouraged me to go when I shared my concerns, and I scrambled around to get everything ready and took off.
This event was held at a (relatively local) park. The event info said to be at the park by 7:15 and then they would be shutting the park gates. I was probably lucky I didn't get pulled over for speeding the whole way there, and was set to arrive on time. However, the last turnoff before the park had a line stretching about 10 cars back. I could see that the street the park is off of was also bumper-to-bumper cars waiting.
It took me at least 30 minutes to get to the park gate. Although they let us (me and everyone else waiting in line) in, this meant my setup preparation time was significantly limited.
Somehow I got everything ready and down to the swim start just in time. Our heat began and...I couldn't blow air out through my nose while swimming. This struck me as really odd as I've been fine in the pool and the only time I had problems was in the salt water at Catalina.
So apparently I AM a headcase and have mental issues with putting my face in the water when I'm in open water.
I tried a few more times and I just couldn't fix it. So I started swimming with my face out of the water. For those of you that haven't tried it, it's much more work, just so you know. Immediately feeling exhausted, I flipped over to my back and did backstroke.
Which I have not trained with.
At all.
I flipped over about every 20 strokes to see where I was and check the course. Despite this, I ended up so far off course that the lifeguards yelled at me--twice.
I was passed, and passed, and passed. This was frustrating because although I'm not a fast swimmer, the swim is usually the best part of a triathlon for me as I typically finish in the middle of the pack (as opposed to the end of the pack in the other events).
I staggered out of the water, struggled to unzip the wetsuit, and made it to the transition area, which was a bit of a distance away.
While I was putting on my bike shoes, I somehow managed to slice open my thumb which started bleeding quite badly. Finally all set, I grabbed my bike and started the journey out of transition.
One tiny little detail I've forgotten to mention. The park was flooded due to the late spring and heavier than usual amounts of rain. The area that was normally set up as the transition area was six feet underwater, so it had to be set up elsewhere. This meant that there was close to a quarter mile between the transition area and the road where we could mount our bikes.
Also, my bike shoes (which are good on the bike) really hurt to walk in.
I finally get on the bike and a few pedal revolutions in, my ride is feeling rather rough. I glance at the front tire, which seems low, but not concerning, so I keep going. Several bumps later I look again. It's gone from low to ultraflat. I'm only about 50 yards into the 12 mile bike.
I have no spare back at transition, so I'm hosed.
I turn around and walk the bike back towards transition. I figure I'm tired from the lack of sleep, I have a ton of stuff to do at home before guests come over, and this is just going to allow me a little time to get things done.
All the same, I'm annoyed that I spent $85 on a race registration, had a lousy swim, and now won't even finish.
When some random stranger sees me walking my bike, he asks if I have a flat, do I need a tube, and would I like him to help me change the tire? I'm so thrilled and relieved and grateful, I dang near propose to him in thanks. He completely changes the tire for me, and fairly quickly.
I hop back on the bike and take off on the course. I'm worried a bit about pushing myself too hard as I have not had enough training time on the bike, so I'm trying to find a balance between pushing myself and going for a sightseeing ride.
Like my last triathlon, this bike portion is 12 miles and pretty flat. I manage to maintain a 14-15 mph pace outward and 16-17 mph pace coming back. I'm feeling decent about it and wondering how the times will compare--the last tri where I had the dysfunctional rear derailleur and this one where I had to change a flat.
I get off the bike and the origins of my adductors and hamstrings are so sore that I'm having problems walking. I'm hoping it will wear off by time I get out of transition.
It doesn't. My thumb starts bleeding again as it breaks open while I'm changing shoes.
I waddle out to the course and intermittently try to run. My body is not cooperating. Something about how those sore muscles are pulling on my back is too much to deal with and despite not having had pain medication in about five months, I'm wishing for it at the moment.
Waddle waddle waddle jog for a bit, waddle waddle waddle. I do at least try to keep my walk at a semi-fast pace, but have to concentrate on it.
The run course (which I am walking) is also an out and back course. On the way back, I realize that I only see a handful of people (and by handful I do mean able to count on one hand) still on the course. I may well be one of the last, if not the last to cross the finish line. Unless any of them started in a wave before me, I will also be dead last in the event.
*sigh*
I finish though, get everything packed up, collect my "I finished" medal, and go home.
Where I immediately have to finish cleaning as we're expecting about 20 guests. I take a quick stock of the house, which I have really been working on cleaning methodically room by room, but it took so much longer than expected that there is no longer time for cleaning.
I must bulldoze.
Grabbing empty laundry baskets, I start piling things in and hauling the baskets out to our garage, madly surface cleaning as I go. I'm still pulling the chair slipcovers back on when my dad arrives and vacuuming as my aunt arrives.
I may give my husband a hard time about being on Moroccan time, but when it comes to stuff like this, I'm just as bad. To top it off, I'm a sleepless, tired from the triathlon, stressed out grouch.
The perfect combination for a party hostess.
Amazingly, the party goes pretty well. I'm slightly annoyed that the kids play room (I converted the massage room, set up a tent and left out art supplies) has glitter glue all stuck to the floor, but it's water-soluble and it could have been other things in the house if I hadn't set that up for them, it would probably be far worse.
One of the moms at the party asks if I'd like to do a girl's night and go see a movie. Although I'm tempted, I realize I will probably fall asleep in the middle of it and decide I'll take a raincheck.
Once everyone is gone, I decide to check the race results.
Bad news: as suspected, I am DEAD last. By 10 minutes. Also, it's my slowest triathlon time yet, five minutes slower than Catalina (which was 3 miles less on the bike) and six minutes slower than my April event (which had a shorter swim).
Here's the times:
Swim: 28:14
Transition 1: 7:25
Bike: 56:50
Transition 2: 4:41
5K Run: 52:13
Overall: 2:29:24
So more bad news is that the swim was 8:23 slower than Catalina for the same distance, my transition 1 was 1:01 slower, my Transition 2 was 0:49 slower, and my overall was 5:03 slower than Catalina.
But here's the good news:
Both transitions were significantly longer distances between events, so I am not worried about the additional time on them.
The run was faster by 2:31 even though I still had to walk.
With three miles extra on the bike distance and all the crazy things that happened (having to do back stroke, flat tire, etc), I was only five minutes extra compared to Catalina, so not too bad
I did all this on only two hours of sleep.
BEST of all, even with the flat tire changing time, I beat my Catalina bike time by nearly three minutes even though the course was 3 miles longer, and if I compare it to the same length, similar course, I beat my April time by 19:10, which is HUGE.
Granted, the new bike that fits properly and has a functional rear derailleur probably had a lot to do with the bike time, but I had a flat and I still did really well in comparison.
So not too bad of a day after all.
Although I certainly hope there are less "challenges" at my next one as I would consider my character built sufficiently enough on this event.
For starters, I was so wound up last night with everything I had to do that I Could. Not. Get. To. Sleep. I finally drifted off around 3:00 am, but my alarm went off at 5:00.
My husband wasn't yet home as he was still working at the food cart. Honestly, I was so tired and unmotivated that I was kind of hoping he'd get home too late for me to leave by 6:00, like I needed to in order to arrive at my triathlon on time.
He got home at 5:40, encouraged me to go when I shared my concerns, and I scrambled around to get everything ready and took off.
This event was held at a (relatively local) park. The event info said to be at the park by 7:15 and then they would be shutting the park gates. I was probably lucky I didn't get pulled over for speeding the whole way there, and was set to arrive on time. However, the last turnoff before the park had a line stretching about 10 cars back. I could see that the street the park is off of was also bumper-to-bumper cars waiting.
It took me at least 30 minutes to get to the park gate. Although they let us (me and everyone else waiting in line) in, this meant my setup preparation time was significantly limited.
Somehow I got everything ready and down to the swim start just in time. Our heat began and...I couldn't blow air out through my nose while swimming. This struck me as really odd as I've been fine in the pool and the only time I had problems was in the salt water at Catalina.
So apparently I AM a headcase and have mental issues with putting my face in the water when I'm in open water.
I tried a few more times and I just couldn't fix it. So I started swimming with my face out of the water. For those of you that haven't tried it, it's much more work, just so you know. Immediately feeling exhausted, I flipped over to my back and did backstroke.
Which I have not trained with.
At all.
I flipped over about every 20 strokes to see where I was and check the course. Despite this, I ended up so far off course that the lifeguards yelled at me--twice.
I was passed, and passed, and passed. This was frustrating because although I'm not a fast swimmer, the swim is usually the best part of a triathlon for me as I typically finish in the middle of the pack (as opposed to the end of the pack in the other events).
I staggered out of the water, struggled to unzip the wetsuit, and made it to the transition area, which was a bit of a distance away.
While I was putting on my bike shoes, I somehow managed to slice open my thumb which started bleeding quite badly. Finally all set, I grabbed my bike and started the journey out of transition.
One tiny little detail I've forgotten to mention. The park was flooded due to the late spring and heavier than usual amounts of rain. The area that was normally set up as the transition area was six feet underwater, so it had to be set up elsewhere. This meant that there was close to a quarter mile between the transition area and the road where we could mount our bikes.
Also, my bike shoes (which are good on the bike) really hurt to walk in.
I finally get on the bike and a few pedal revolutions in, my ride is feeling rather rough. I glance at the front tire, which seems low, but not concerning, so I keep going. Several bumps later I look again. It's gone from low to ultraflat. I'm only about 50 yards into the 12 mile bike.
I have no spare back at transition, so I'm hosed.
I turn around and walk the bike back towards transition. I figure I'm tired from the lack of sleep, I have a ton of stuff to do at home before guests come over, and this is just going to allow me a little time to get things done.
All the same, I'm annoyed that I spent $85 on a race registration, had a lousy swim, and now won't even finish.
When some random stranger sees me walking my bike, he asks if I have a flat, do I need a tube, and would I like him to help me change the tire? I'm so thrilled and relieved and grateful, I dang near propose to him in thanks. He completely changes the tire for me, and fairly quickly.
I hop back on the bike and take off on the course. I'm worried a bit about pushing myself too hard as I have not had enough training time on the bike, so I'm trying to find a balance between pushing myself and going for a sightseeing ride.
Like my last triathlon, this bike portion is 12 miles and pretty flat. I manage to maintain a 14-15 mph pace outward and 16-17 mph pace coming back. I'm feeling decent about it and wondering how the times will compare--the last tri where I had the dysfunctional rear derailleur and this one where I had to change a flat.
I get off the bike and the origins of my adductors and hamstrings are so sore that I'm having problems walking. I'm hoping it will wear off by time I get out of transition.
It doesn't. My thumb starts bleeding again as it breaks open while I'm changing shoes.
I waddle out to the course and intermittently try to run. My body is not cooperating. Something about how those sore muscles are pulling on my back is too much to deal with and despite not having had pain medication in about five months, I'm wishing for it at the moment.
Waddle waddle waddle jog for a bit, waddle waddle waddle. I do at least try to keep my walk at a semi-fast pace, but have to concentrate on it.
The run course (which I am walking) is also an out and back course. On the way back, I realize that I only see a handful of people (and by handful I do mean able to count on one hand) still on the course. I may well be one of the last, if not the last to cross the finish line. Unless any of them started in a wave before me, I will also be dead last in the event.
*sigh*
I finish though, get everything packed up, collect my "I finished" medal, and go home.
Where I immediately have to finish cleaning as we're expecting about 20 guests. I take a quick stock of the house, which I have really been working on cleaning methodically room by room, but it took so much longer than expected that there is no longer time for cleaning.
I must bulldoze.
Grabbing empty laundry baskets, I start piling things in and hauling the baskets out to our garage, madly surface cleaning as I go. I'm still pulling the chair slipcovers back on when my dad arrives and vacuuming as my aunt arrives.
I may give my husband a hard time about being on Moroccan time, but when it comes to stuff like this, I'm just as bad. To top it off, I'm a sleepless, tired from the triathlon, stressed out grouch.
The perfect combination for a party hostess.
Amazingly, the party goes pretty well. I'm slightly annoyed that the kids play room (I converted the massage room, set up a tent and left out art supplies) has glitter glue all stuck to the floor, but it's water-soluble and it could have been other things in the house if I hadn't set that up for them, it would probably be far worse.
One of the moms at the party asks if I'd like to do a girl's night and go see a movie. Although I'm tempted, I realize I will probably fall asleep in the middle of it and decide I'll take a raincheck.
Once everyone is gone, I decide to check the race results.
Bad news: as suspected, I am DEAD last. By 10 minutes. Also, it's my slowest triathlon time yet, five minutes slower than Catalina (which was 3 miles less on the bike) and six minutes slower than my April event (which had a shorter swim).
Here's the times:
Swim: 28:14
Transition 1: 7:25
Bike: 56:50
Transition 2: 4:41
5K Run: 52:13
Overall: 2:29:24
So more bad news is that the swim was 8:23 slower than Catalina for the same distance, my transition 1 was 1:01 slower, my Transition 2 was 0:49 slower, and my overall was 5:03 slower than Catalina.
But here's the good news:
Both transitions were significantly longer distances between events, so I am not worried about the additional time on them.
The run was faster by 2:31 even though I still had to walk.
With three miles extra on the bike distance and all the crazy things that happened (having to do back stroke, flat tire, etc), I was only five minutes extra compared to Catalina, so not too bad
I did all this on only two hours of sleep.
BEST of all, even with the flat tire changing time, I beat my Catalina bike time by nearly three minutes even though the course was 3 miles longer, and if I compare it to the same length, similar course, I beat my April time by 19:10, which is HUGE.
Granted, the new bike that fits properly and has a functional rear derailleur probably had a lot to do with the bike time, but I had a flat and I still did really well in comparison.
So not too bad of a day after all.
Although I certainly hope there are less "challenges" at my next one as I would consider my character built sufficiently enough on this event.
Monday, June 6, 2011
Loss of Focus
I've had a hard time lately focusing on my goals and staying motivated. Knowing that I need a solid something in front of me, I've been regularly logging on to the web site for Catalina--and registration is not available.
I finally got through on a phone call today. Apparently the company that puts on the event is having problems obtaining the permits necessary. So things are kind of up in the air. A different web site announced that a different company will be putting on the triathlon, but that company has no information about any triathlon on Catalina at all.
I called my sister to let her know and she immediately told me I should sign up for an Olympic distance one that she's doing in October. I would, except for one tiny little detail. I absolutely do not want to run a 10K.
Maybe this is where one of my problems is. I don't know if it's that I need to demand more of myself or if I really just recognize my limits. I could probably run a 10K, but it is so completely unappealing to me.
Kind of like my 10 year high school reunion (which was 9 years ago now). Hang on, I'll get to how it's similar. I hated high school. Hated. Hated. Hated. I had a few close friends and I was involved in activities I loved, but the rest of the experience pretty much sucked. At some point I pissed off someone enough that I actually received hate mail at the school newspaper. More than once. Most of my close friends had already graduated, so I spent time with them. So, when I got the reunion information, I glanced through, curious. It was $65 for a dinner evening.
At the time, I was in massage school. I was operating on a fairly tight budget. I talked it over with my roommate. She actually didn't encourage me to go. After some (okay, very little) time thinking about it, I decided I wouldn't be going. Why? Because I hated high school. I had little cash to spare, and if I had $65, I'd spend it on something I actually wanted to do, as opposed to reminiscing about the worst time of my life with people I hoped I'd never see again.
As for a 10K? I think I'd rather spend the extra effort riding 100 miles on my bike in a 1-day event or building back up to a 3K swim. I think running has some healthy benefits for me, but there's only so much my knees, feet, and back will take and I just don't know if I'm up for that much distance.
Although it is a good excuse to buy more cool running shoes. But not good enough.
I finally got through on a phone call today. Apparently the company that puts on the event is having problems obtaining the permits necessary. So things are kind of up in the air. A different web site announced that a different company will be putting on the triathlon, but that company has no information about any triathlon on Catalina at all.
I called my sister to let her know and she immediately told me I should sign up for an Olympic distance one that she's doing in October. I would, except for one tiny little detail. I absolutely do not want to run a 10K.
Maybe this is where one of my problems is. I don't know if it's that I need to demand more of myself or if I really just recognize my limits. I could probably run a 10K, but it is so completely unappealing to me.
Kind of like my 10 year high school reunion (which was 9 years ago now). Hang on, I'll get to how it's similar. I hated high school. Hated. Hated. Hated. I had a few close friends and I was involved in activities I loved, but the rest of the experience pretty much sucked. At some point I pissed off someone enough that I actually received hate mail at the school newspaper. More than once. Most of my close friends had already graduated, so I spent time with them. So, when I got the reunion information, I glanced through, curious. It was $65 for a dinner evening.
At the time, I was in massage school. I was operating on a fairly tight budget. I talked it over with my roommate. She actually didn't encourage me to go. After some (okay, very little) time thinking about it, I decided I wouldn't be going. Why? Because I hated high school. I had little cash to spare, and if I had $65, I'd spend it on something I actually wanted to do, as opposed to reminiscing about the worst time of my life with people I hoped I'd never see again.
As for a 10K? I think I'd rather spend the extra effort riding 100 miles on my bike in a 1-day event or building back up to a 3K swim. I think running has some healthy benefits for me, but there's only so much my knees, feet, and back will take and I just don't know if I'm up for that much distance.
Although it is a good excuse to buy more cool running shoes. But not good enough.
Sunday, June 5, 2011
Day at the Beach
Woke up with purple eyeshadow on. My eye is now multi-colored and swollen, although not nearly as bad as I'd feared--and you kinda have to look to see it.
So if your kid beats you up, is it still domestic abuse?
The plan for today was to leave for the beach by 8:00 am, so that we could be home by about 2:00. I heard my husband get home from work at about 5:00 am, so I had a feeling he would need the sleep. My daughter and I got up and she was (sort of) helping me fold laundry while we watched a movie. I kept reminding her that she had to finish her folding (which was essentially just flattening her underpants and stacking them, and then moving the stack to the drawer) before she could go to the beach. She kept getting distracted by the movie. As the movie finished, she said, "Is it a deal, Mommy?"
"Is what a deal?" I asked.
"You fold YOUR laundry and you fold MY laundry and I'll go play outside!"
I reminded my little manipulator that the "deal" was that when she finished folding her laundry, we would go wake up Baba and get ready to go to the beach. She finally finished. At 11:30, I went and woke up my husband.
He was at first annoyed because he thought that we wouldn't be leaving that late and I wouldn't want to go, but was up and out of bed amazingly quickly when I informed him that we just needed to pack and leave. I think we finally departed at about 1:30. Living on Moroccan time again.
We had lots of fun at the beach. By "we" I mean my husband, my daughter, and the dog. I spent much of my time trying to keep my daughter out of the waves and keep the dog in the waves, with the intention of wearing out both of them. When my husband had enough surfing in the cold water, we packed up and headed home. That's not to say I had a bad time, but my idea of fun would be being able to sit on the beach with a book without having to worry about a 4-year-old getting caught in the surf or the dog getting caught off-leash.
Despite glopping sunscreen on myself, I managed to miss some spots. So now I have a discolored eye and weird sunburn marks. Yep, I'm a babe.
Dozed on the way home, and was planning a swim to work out, but ended up falling asleep with my daughter when I was putting her to bed. I'm starting to get just a bit nervous for my next triathlon.
So if your kid beats you up, is it still domestic abuse?
The plan for today was to leave for the beach by 8:00 am, so that we could be home by about 2:00. I heard my husband get home from work at about 5:00 am, so I had a feeling he would need the sleep. My daughter and I got up and she was (sort of) helping me fold laundry while we watched a movie. I kept reminding her that she had to finish her folding (which was essentially just flattening her underpants and stacking them, and then moving the stack to the drawer) before she could go to the beach. She kept getting distracted by the movie. As the movie finished, she said, "Is it a deal, Mommy?"
"Is what a deal?" I asked.
"You fold YOUR laundry and you fold MY laundry and I'll go play outside!"
I reminded my little manipulator that the "deal" was that when she finished folding her laundry, we would go wake up Baba and get ready to go to the beach. She finally finished. At 11:30, I went and woke up my husband.
He was at first annoyed because he thought that we wouldn't be leaving that late and I wouldn't want to go, but was up and out of bed amazingly quickly when I informed him that we just needed to pack and leave. I think we finally departed at about 1:30. Living on Moroccan time again.
We had lots of fun at the beach. By "we" I mean my husband, my daughter, and the dog. I spent much of my time trying to keep my daughter out of the waves and keep the dog in the waves, with the intention of wearing out both of them. When my husband had enough surfing in the cold water, we packed up and headed home. That's not to say I had a bad time, but my idea of fun would be being able to sit on the beach with a book without having to worry about a 4-year-old getting caught in the surf or the dog getting caught off-leash.
Despite glopping sunscreen on myself, I managed to miss some spots. So now I have a discolored eye and weird sunburn marks. Yep, I'm a babe.
Dozed on the way home, and was planning a swim to work out, but ended up falling asleep with my daughter when I was putting her to bed. I'm starting to get just a bit nervous for my next triathlon.
Saturday, June 4, 2011
More Evidence that I Am Insane
In over 12 years at my last gymnastics coaching job, and in the 6 years of coaching prior to that, never once did I teach a preschool class. I knew it wasn't my thing because I don't enjoy that age-level interaction much (for example, "now let's flap our butterfly wings...where are YOU flying to today?") and I just plain don't have the patience.
So why I decided that I would entertain 16 four-year-olds for two hours is beyond me.
It went okay--no one got hurt, mostly the kids had fun (I think) and some parents were even kind enough to come up and tell me what a great job I did. Whether it was because they could see my exasperation and were trying to make me feel better or they really thought I did a good job--I honestly do not know.
What I do know is that I will Never. Do. That. Again.
It also happened to be the first warmer day of the year (low 80s), and by time I left, I not only smelled like it was the hottest day of the year, but I had a migraine starting. When I got home, I took my very last migraine pill and laid down.
My daughter, wound up from the party and excited it was so nice she could play outside, wouldn't let me be, no matter how much I begged her to go ask her Baba to play instead. She was SO rambunctious that eventually she head-butted me, trying to get my attention. I very gently told her NO and asked her, again, to please leave Mommy alone because my head hurts and I need to rest.
Her response? She head-butted me again. HARD.
I was so tired--physically, emotionally--and not feeling well already that I was literally shaking. I picked her up and yelled that we do NOT hit people in the head. I set her down and walked away to get ice. When I got back, she was crying because I'd scared her. I was still too wound up to be gentle and the punishment for hurting someone (intentionally) in our house is time-out, so I sent her to time out.
I spent some time just trying to breathe and calm down while icing my head that was now throbbing internally and externally. After a few minutes, I went to check in the bathroom.
I already had a lump and discoloration over my right eye.
Had our daughter been a boy, we had planned on naming her "Zidan." It was the only name my husband and I could agree on. It wasn't until six months after she was born that I discovered that Zidane the soccer player (why my husband liked the name so much) had actually been kicked out of soccer for head-butting another player. Apparently that name fits our child anyway, despite her being a girl.
I let my daughter out of time-out and for some reason Mommy wasn't as much fun to bother any more, so she tagged along with my husband who was working in the yard.
Luckily I got a bit of a nap and the migraine medication did its job.
Next year, instead of trying to do things "cheaper" (I'm not even sure it ended up being that), I'm going to go with "simpler." Whether it's one other kid and pony rides or paying someplace to put on the party for her, I don't know.
Apparently this was yet another example of how I just cannot do moderation.
So why I decided that I would entertain 16 four-year-olds for two hours is beyond me.
It went okay--no one got hurt, mostly the kids had fun (I think) and some parents were even kind enough to come up and tell me what a great job I did. Whether it was because they could see my exasperation and were trying to make me feel better or they really thought I did a good job--I honestly do not know.
What I do know is that I will Never. Do. That. Again.
It also happened to be the first warmer day of the year (low 80s), and by time I left, I not only smelled like it was the hottest day of the year, but I had a migraine starting. When I got home, I took my very last migraine pill and laid down.
My daughter, wound up from the party and excited it was so nice she could play outside, wouldn't let me be, no matter how much I begged her to go ask her Baba to play instead. She was SO rambunctious that eventually she head-butted me, trying to get my attention. I very gently told her NO and asked her, again, to please leave Mommy alone because my head hurts and I need to rest.
Her response? She head-butted me again. HARD.
I was so tired--physically, emotionally--and not feeling well already that I was literally shaking. I picked her up and yelled that we do NOT hit people in the head. I set her down and walked away to get ice. When I got back, she was crying because I'd scared her. I was still too wound up to be gentle and the punishment for hurting someone (intentionally) in our house is time-out, so I sent her to time out.
I spent some time just trying to breathe and calm down while icing my head that was now throbbing internally and externally. After a few minutes, I went to check in the bathroom.
I already had a lump and discoloration over my right eye.
Had our daughter been a boy, we had planned on naming her "Zidan." It was the only name my husband and I could agree on. It wasn't until six months after she was born that I discovered that Zidane the soccer player (why my husband liked the name so much) had actually been kicked out of soccer for head-butting another player. Apparently that name fits our child anyway, despite her being a girl.
I let my daughter out of time-out and for some reason Mommy wasn't as much fun to bother any more, so she tagged along with my husband who was working in the yard.
Luckily I got a bit of a nap and the migraine medication did its job.
Next year, instead of trying to do things "cheaper" (I'm not even sure it ended up being that), I'm going to go with "simpler." Whether it's one other kid and pony rides or paying someplace to put on the party for her, I don't know.
Apparently this was yet another example of how I just cannot do moderation.
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