tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28231870932010744382024-03-13T07:47:45.588-07:00Jen Jen...This is my lifeI'm not perfect but parts of me are pretty awesomeJen Estes Lordhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16359483232366100682noreply@blogger.comBlogger34125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2823187093201074438.post-63433782385572718682012-10-24T11:10:00.000-07:002012-10-24T11:21:45.417-07:00Shit Just Got All Unfigured<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3puTU20hTgDa6tilXnQlHow-344Q6hMGlKRqHuWWHKQ7SJU2SKUIA80Q28HVnskn5wQzwnavFzW9-JdH-5z7rgmCWYk6ImB2LD7vCpWzbTyioe_5P0Ztz2BPy44dvdXXugtiX-15LLbQ/s1600/Tim+Burton+Quote.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3puTU20hTgDa6tilXnQlHow-344Q6hMGlKRqHuWWHKQ7SJU2SKUIA80Q28HVnskn5wQzwnavFzW9-JdH-5z7rgmCWYk6ImB2LD7vCpWzbTyioe_5P0Ztz2BPy44dvdXXugtiX-15LLbQ/s320/Tim+Burton+Quote.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<br />
{I just came across this post I had written at the end of December 2011, but never published. I thought it was a good snapshot of where I was at the time, so here you go. It's crazy to think how much has changed in a year. Enjoy!} <br />
<br />
DECEMBER 2011 - As this year comes to a close, I look back on it as a truly life changing
time. I feel stronger, yet more vulnerable than I ever have. I feel
fresh and full of life, yet tired all the same time.<br />
<br />
If you read my blog, then you are caught up through the middle of my
year. But as crazy as I thought the first 6.5 months were, I realize
now that I had no idea how crazy life would become.<br />
<br />
Incase I haven't seen or talked to you lately (which there is a good
chance of) I will briefly update you on my happenings of the last few
months.<br />
<br />
After my bike crashes (yes, plural...I got hit by a car after taking my
nasty spill in July. It was crazy, but I am fine. A few scrapes and
bruises can't keep this girl down!) I continued training for my 1/2
ironman duathlon, sometimes logging as many as 100+ miles per week. My
days were spent working, running and biking. As I neared the race, it
consumed my life. In August, I worked my training schedule around a
weekend in the mountains to support husband in his first attempt at the
Leadville 100 mountain bike race. (You can read all about his experience
<a href="http://www.outcomeunknown.blogspot.com/2011/09/my-2011-leadville-100-odyssey.html" target="_blank">here</a>). While his race went a little different that expected, he did
amazingly well and put up a very respectable time for his first LT100.
A handful of our very good friends were on hand to share the weekend
and help provide support during the race. Words could not express my
gratitude.<br />
<br />
Mid- October, with our first full year of racing behind us we headed
down to Hilton Head, South Carolina for my best friends wedding. We made
new friends, laughed a lot, and celebrated the happy couple. With the
exception of a missing wedding dress fiasco, it was a perfect weekend.<br />
<br />
Two weeks later, our lives were flipped upside down with one phone call.
But to be totally fair, we weren't completely blindsided, but had just
decided to live our lives in the now instead of the "what might be". I
guess I should clarify, this was great life changing news. Husband was
offered a job as a Production Manager for Patagonia. In California. A
dream job and an opportunity of a lifetime.<br />
<br />
And as we had discussed the possibility before, we knew, "You don't say no to Patagonia."<br />
<br />
So we began packing up all of our belongings and making a plan. We had
less than a month before he had to be in Ventura to start work. We
interviewed realtors who all had different opinions of what we should do
with regards to our house. To put it simply, we had 3 options: sell it
as is for what we owed on it, do some minor repairs & hope to make a
little money, or do a complete renovation and try to make enough for a
significant down payment for a new house in California. The only option
to us was #3. We had bought the house as a project house and that's how
we intended to keep it.<br />
<br />
We packed up the majority of our stuff and are using a spare room in the
basement as storage. After a quick trip to Chicago & Indy for
thanksgiving we put husband on a plane with a bike case & large
duffle bag. This will be his worldly possessions until I am able to join
him in California. my heart ached as we said goodbye and I was hopeful
that we would be able to get everything done before Christmas so we
could be together again. Unfortunately I way underestimated the amount
of work that was being undertaken.<br />
<br />
As it stands now we have an empty room where our kitchen used to be. Our
old appliances are sitting in the dining room waiting for someone from
Craigslist to buy them. There are 115 2x4s in the living room for
framing the new basement walls. There is demolition dust everywhere. I make trips to Home Depot &/or Lowes daily. I'm still working full time &
stay up most of the night doing construction & demo. I'm exhausted and anxious for it to all be done. At least now I can see things changing.<br />
<br />
This year was my first birthday in 14 years that Erick wasn't with me to celebrate. It's been hard to be so far apart but I am looking forward to our new adventure.<br />
<br />
I just visited Ventura for the first time and got to meet so many
Patagonia people while I was there. We already have amazing friends that
I can't wait to get to know better. Hopefully I will be back there
soon. Hopefully this will all be done soon & my family can be back
together. Because as much as I thought we had figured out a few months
ago, has all been completely rearranged, or as husband said, "Shit just got all
unfigured!"<br />
<br />Jen Estes Lordhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16359483232366100682noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2823187093201074438.post-87588010323951198082012-03-22T12:46:00.009-07:002012-03-22T17:11:51.708-07:00Ironwoman...1/2 Ironwoman Anyways<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQVd56WxHn-TM4vmry1DL-AL2NIYvV7DTzUPahVmHsu-l_zEMuRSn6bzYZEa8Che-26t38ekuzQLsukPN7QlVNbbX3lXJlqMihlRN2Jeho4zBBqeK86Gqmrpl_t51raUV3wEOZg6PUn0Q/s1600/training.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 298px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQVd56WxHn-TM4vmry1DL-AL2NIYvV7DTzUPahVmHsu-l_zEMuRSn6bzYZEa8Che-26t38ekuzQLsukPN7QlVNbbX3lXJlqMihlRN2Jeho4zBBqeK86Gqmrpl_t51raUV3wEOZg6PUn0Q/s400/training.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5722810440623018322" border="0" /></a><br />My training was full of sprints, bricks, hill climbing and long runs/rides. At the beginning of September, following a month and a half of intense training, my race day arrived. After heading to bed extremely early, the alarm went off at 4am and I gathered my belongings, husband and Kristen and headed to the race. A cooler morning greeted me as my nerves had my stomach in knots. I racked my bike and walked through the sea of racers through both ends of the transition area so I would know the best way to my bike when entering and exiting. I unwillingly shed the warm layers my sweats provided and headed to the start line. I felt like I was going to puke.<br /><br />The organizers delayed our start until after the start of the triathlon to make sure everyone was in the water before the duathletes started. I started in the front row and quickly fell into a comfortable rhythm. The only thing that would have made it better would have been being able to have my iPod to listen to. At the end of the first 5k, only 4 men and one woman were infront of me. I ran through the transition area to my bike only to find that my helmet had been knocked off my bike and an inner pad had broken. I tinkered with it for a minute before I unracked my bike, ran out of the transition area, did my triathlon bike mount and was off. My coach (aka husband) had made a great pouch for my bike that held a goo flask and a couple of hammer bars that had been cut up into convenient bite sized pieces along with a stash of hammer jellies. As I pulled away from the transition area with a smooth mount, I heard something fall off my bike. Looking back I saw my goo flask bouncing away from me. As a racer I am well aware of the difference a few seconds can make, and I made the decision to continue on without retrieving my flask, leaving myself short about 600 calories that I was supposed to consume during the race.<br /><br />I knew going in that the bike was my weak point. And although I had been training intensely, I was still on the slower side of the top racers. I was very surprised and excited when I caught the top woman runner and quickly passed her. I knew though that I had a long race still ahead of me and I tried to get into a good rhythm and ensure that I would have enough energy to get through the 56 mile bike ride and the 1/2 marathon run I still had to complete.<br /><br />At the first aid station I picked up the Gatorade I had planned on and a goo pack to make up for the flask I had dropped. One big lesson I learned over the summer watching other people race was to never consume anything during a race that you hadn't trained with. (you just never know how your body will respond to it under such strenuous circumstances) but here I was about to break my own unwritten rule. I knew the importance of calorie intake (during the race I burned over 4000 calories). I tore open the citrus flavored goo pack and emptied it into my mouth. It almost came back up. What an awful flavor! I sucked it down and just kept peddaling.<br /><br />I had ridden the course a couple of times pre-race, so I knew what to expect. Lots of hills, lots of long miles, and the hardest part would be the second half. I focused on eating, on keeping my feet flat. Push, pull, push, pull. A lot of people passed me as the top triathletes were now on the course as well. I admired their top of the line $10000 tri bikes & imagined how much faster I would be with one of those bikes too. Before I knew it I was on the home stretch. The last 13 miles with 5 monstrous hill climbs before a long ascent back to the transition area. On the first hill I started to catch people. As the hills went on, I caught more. Some caught me on the way down the back side, but it felt great to actually be able to pass someone on the bike. Apparently my strength on the bike is climbing. Finally I made it back to the transition area. I had no idea what place I was in but I was so relieved to have the bike behind me. Only 13.1 miles to go. Only.<br /><br />I drank some water, switched my shoes and stretched for a sec before taking off on the run. Husband met me just outside of the transition area to offer words of encouragement. He ran beside me for about a quarter of a mile asking how I felt and telling me I was doing great. I felt good.<br /><br />The 1/2 marathon was an out and back course around aurora reservoir. I made my way past the bikers who had passed me so effortlessly just miles before. This was my strength, the run. I got into a group that was running my pace and stayed with them for a couple of miles. A few people talked about why they were doing this event. The guy next to me told me he wanted to improve on his 1/2 & full marathon times. His draw dropped when I told him this was my first half marathon ever. (I mean, don't most people do their first after running a 5k & riding 56 miles?!?) I pulled ahead of the group after that and never saw them again. As I approached the turnaround I was about 5 minutes off my goal pace, and I was very hot and tired but received a super morale boost when I saw a group of my friends screaming and cheering me on. Just after the turn around I ran by them to give them all high fives. I think I smiled for the next mile.<br /><br />At the mile 8 aid station I needed water.(I later learned that it was 98 degrees during the majority of the race.) I walked through the aid station drinking and shot a goo that I had stashed in my belt to give myself a boost of energy. I think it was too little, too late. My body was hurting from missing the 600 calories my goo flask should have provided. I ran again past the mile 9 and 10 aid stations, then I got a side stitch. Sharp shooting pain engulfed my right side. I told myself to just keep moving forward. I walked for about a quarter of a mile then ran to the next aid station. I walked through it drinking Gatorade and taking warm water into my mouth and spitting it out again.<br /><br />It was hot. My body was done. I jogged. I could hear the music from the finish from across the water. I could hear people cheering. I could feel every part of my body and every piece was screaming at me to stop. I had read about this and prepared myself for this and all of the personal mantras and positive thinking I had done during training had to kick in now. It took everything I had to keep putting one foot infront of the other. I jogged to the final aid station and walked through it again. I had just over a mile to go. The music was getting louder. The cheering was getting louder. The pain was getting louder. I fought my body to keep moving forward. I got to a hill less than 1/2 mile from the finish line. I couldn't run it. I walked and a guy I had just passed jogged past me. "What hurts?" he asked. "Everything!" I replied.<br /><br />At the top of the hill I knew I was close. I could hear the announcer call out names as the racers crossed the finish line. I reached down, farther than my heart, farther than my gut, farther than my toes. I reached down farther than I even knew I had, and I ran. I was determined to leave every ounce of energy I had out on that course and I did. I passed four or five people in the last quarter mile and would have collapsed after the finish line if it weren't for the excitement of the slip and slide the race organizers set up to celebrate the finish. I dove onto it, head first, and fast. Halfway down my calves cramped and I writhed in pain, but I kind of didn't care. I was done. I did it.<br /><br />It wasn't a team sport, it wasn't because I had to, it wasn't for anyone else. It was for me, and it was because I could. My friends greeted me at the finish with cheers and hugs and highfives. I thanked husband for being an amazing coach (I couldn't have done it without him) and everyone who came out to support me. I sat down and tried to drink a celebratory beer. After 2 sips I was done. I couldn't eat, I didn't want to drink. My body was done. As much as it hurt, I was happy to know that I had indeed left it all on the course. I was a few minutes off of my goal time, but I ended up being the 4th woman finisher and 1st place in my age group. In the end I did a 3.1 mile run, 56 mile bike, and a 13.1 mile run in 5 hours 55 minutes. I got to stand on my first legit podium and I got a medal. My first medal.<br /><br />I did it.Jen Estes Lordhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16359483232366100682noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2823187093201074438.post-40738329895699749912011-08-09T11:17:00.000-07:002011-08-09T11:25:05.781-07:00Inspiration comes in all forms...<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNsyfuSUGyj-4YeJCJLY0vEjFrfxT99O9TSSAbsclSWreMrpnuDY1ng5_vIi0B0-lRaoT75zbZVLgJsfty6ZrQjTcheUjg74Oi13rvyTx48KzUZbj_lcb0Gf2XmWJtXsRHYigUrcpNBm0/s1600/You+Inspire+Me.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 219px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNsyfuSUGyj-4YeJCJLY0vEjFrfxT99O9TSSAbsclSWreMrpnuDY1ng5_vIi0B0-lRaoT75zbZVLgJsfty6ZrQjTcheUjg74Oi13rvyTx48KzUZbj_lcb0Gf2XmWJtXsRHYigUrcpNBm0/s400/You+Inspire+Me.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5638922111279520866" /></a>
<br />
<br />I am inspired by the people around me.
<br />
<br />Husband constantly inspires and challenges me to be a better person, to question more, to do what is right, and to love with my whole heart.
<br />
<br />My true friends inspire me to laugh more, relax, and enjoy life.
<br />
<br />My niece and nephews inspire me to simply live, to relish the little things, and to sit and watch the world.
<br />
<br />My family inspires me to appreciate each moment, to support others and to be there when needed.
<br />
<br />Bad people inspire me to look for the good, to turn the other cheek, and to get back up when knocked down.
<br />
<br />I am inspired by challenges that I see people partake in: races, jobs, illness. Whether they fail or succeed.
<br />
<br />Thank you for inspiring me.
<br />Jen Estes Lordhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16359483232366100682noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2823187093201074438.post-7704462255591145972011-07-20T08:31:00.000-07:002011-07-20T09:27:49.648-07:00Dude...Crashing Sucks<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwzoth8XD1LRygsjoZ9xrFqwJI-ZHAwviG4ZFd5L5I7rSGol0acaP5_Bi_eXwNNhKgfiV4UrIAqq3B-4JRC6e2jaITXcGD4lzAKbGxaFBdssxawi7KZRALwIN9zCBexPsJJ7-Ljl4yJcM/s1600/Crashing+Sucks.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 140px; height: 140px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwzoth8XD1LRygsjoZ9xrFqwJI-ZHAwviG4ZFd5L5I7rSGol0acaP5_Bi_eXwNNhKgfiV4UrIAqq3B-4JRC6e2jaITXcGD4lzAKbGxaFBdssxawi7KZRALwIN9zCBexPsJJ7-Ljl4yJcM/s400/Crashing+Sucks.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5631457768446528962" /></a><br /><br />Less than 24 hours after signing up for my first 1/2 ironman, I crashed on my single speed on my way home from work. With only 7 weeks left of training, this does not feel like a good sign.<br /><br />With gas prices rising and my road rage on overload, this summer I decided to trade in my 45+ minute drive for a single speed and a lightrail ticket book. Each morning I get up and get ready for work, put my lunch, wallet, phone and kindle into my Patagonia bag, grab Stella (that's my single speed bike's name) and head out. There is a light rail station 3 blocks from our house, but I opt for the one a mile away so I don't have to switch trains later, plus, it's good exercise. I validate my ticket and jump on the F Line. At my stop, I grab my bike and climb off, ride up a steep hill, across a very busy road, through a parking lot, and about a mile later I am at work. I get to feel the wind in my hair and breathe the fresh air every morning, and I do it all over again every afternoon.<br /><br />As much as I have been enjoying this, about 2 weeks ago, the new commute has been testing me. <br /><br />One evening on my way home, the train stopped at one of the regularly scheduled stops, at which the conductor came over the PA and said "Sorry folks, it looks like we will be stopped here for a while, downtown is flooded and the trains can't get through. There is more than 4" of water above the tracks." 4 inches! It had just started raining shortly before, so I couldn't believe how bad it already was. After 25 minutes of sitting there, the conductor came around and told us they were taking the train back south saying, "If you want to go south, stay on, if you want to go north, get off." I was only a couple of miles from home, so decided to weather the storm and ride home. As soon as I got out of the tunnel I was soaking wet. Downtown was a mess! Traffic was at a dead standstill, cars spilled into the intersections unable to move, water was flowing down the sidewalks (when you could actually discern them AS sidewalks), entryways to tall buildings were flooded, lightning struck over downtown several times in the largest bursts I have ever seen, and thunder shook the buildings. It was like armageddon, I swear! There were times where the water was more than halfway up my tires and a couple of times where I couldn't even ride. A car drove by at one point and sent a wave up over my shoulder soaking me to the bone. At the intersection infront of my house, I had to lift my bike onto my shoulder and carry it and was almost knocked over by the rushing water.<br /><br />I feel like I should have given up on this alternative commute that day. Instead I pressed on and got rained on 3 more times in the week that followed. (At least I had a rain jacket those times)<br /><br />Yesterday, as I was riding home a storm was brewing to the west. I wanted to get home before it hit.<br /><br />I was riding a slightly different way than normal and had to cross a couple of sets of light rail tracks. First one, no problem. Second one, no problem. But when a passing car came a little too close for my liking, I swerved to distance myself and my front tire slipped into the gap in the tracks, stopping my bike and sending me off and sliding into the road. The aforementioned car swerved to miss me and the car behind it slammed on it's brakes. The driver stopped to make sure I was okay and to make sure no one else hit me. It all happened so fast. I laid there for a second and took note of my body parts. Nothing seemed to be missing, and I started to get up. It took me a second, but I got up and gathered my bike as some guys walking by on the sidewalk rushed over to help me. They took my bike and made me sit down. I insisted that I was fine, but they thought I was just in shock, and quite frankly, I think I was too. At that moment I was more embarrassed than anything.<br /><br />It wasn't for a minute or so that I realized I was bleeding (from more places than one), but as I thanked them and assured them that I was okay, they finally left me. I was wearing cute new summer sandles, and the left one had broken, so I knew I wouldn't be able to ride with it. I stood up and started walking and noticed that my handlebars were completely cockeyed. Luckily I was only a few blocks from home and could not wait to get there. As I contemplated calling husband to come get me, I saw a man coming towards me. He was the driver who had stopped on the road to protect me, and insisted that I let him drive me home. The adrenaline was starting to leave me now and the reality of the situation was hitting, with tears coming to my eyes, I accepted the ride. <br /><br />When I got home Husband met me at the door (as he normally does) and I started crying. I told him I didn't want to ride my bike anymore. He hugged me, got me a bag of ice, and surveyed my wounds which had started to swell and ooze. At one point he started to smile and I asked if he was laughing at me, when he replied "No" I realized that he was proud of my war wounds. <br /><br />The scrapes are all superficial, and should heal without much notice after a few days covered in bandaids and gauze. I think it's my pride and ego that are the most bruised. Despite what I said when I got home, I will get back on my bike, I will keep commuting by train and bike to work, and I will keep training for the 1/2 ironman in September. But I will definitely be more cautious when riding around train tracks in the future!Jen Estes Lordhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16359483232366100682noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2823187093201074438.post-63907955104288528792011-07-14T08:31:00.000-07:002011-07-14T08:48:50.841-07:00Busy, Busy Bees<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixMrLofqCtWozYK4m3JQ-SDQXb8iHgVie34As93XZjlJsJ3ljhRG4zZ_22pdGEmmF4MDTeHOXEkuC-5SYN9Oz1jKKUnBffUSzjfEz60iCPqpofBMO_KxHXn4PFk_rNVC8lpEUZjbDOLIQ/s1600/Busy+bee.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 389px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixMrLofqCtWozYK4m3JQ-SDQXb8iHgVie34As93XZjlJsJ3ljhRG4zZ_22pdGEmmF4MDTeHOXEkuC-5SYN9Oz1jKKUnBffUSzjfEz60iCPqpofBMO_KxHXn4PFk_rNVC8lpEUZjbDOLIQ/s400/Busy+bee.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5629235369862546482" /></a><br /><br /><br />Man...where has this year gone?!?<br /><br />Let's see, we've been to New Mexico, Arizona, Kansas, Missouri, Illinois, Indiana (and back), we've done races, said good-byes, made new friends, and had visitors. <br /><br />It has been a whirlwind year, and it's already 1/2 over. I hate seeing the years go by so quickly, but it seems that we always have something to look forward to.<br /><br />This weekend Husband is doing a 50 mile mountain bike race and I am looking forward to the time up in the mountains to support him. <br /><br />I am starting training for a big (long) duathlon in September and am getting pretty amped for that.<br /><br />In our (limited) spare time, we have been working on the closet and with each step we complete I am getting more and more excited to move in. Just checking that project off will be great, let alone reaping the benefits of actually having a big fabulous closet!<br /><br />Over the next 3 months we are looking forward to farmers markets, mountain bike races (4 huge ones), duathlons, house projects, visitors, Daveapalooza, my BFF's bachelorette all girl weekend, trips to the mountains and Moab, and my best friends wedding in Hilton Head. <br /><br />As crazy as it all is, I wouldn't change it for anything and want to appreciate it and enjoy every second. I won't forget to stop and smell the flowers.Jen Estes Lordhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16359483232366100682noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2823187093201074438.post-15526006451648911362011-06-01T09:29:00.000-07:002011-06-13T08:22:23.779-07:00Home"There are few things pure in this world anymore,<br />and home is one of the few.<br />We'd have a drink outside,<br />maybe run and hide if we saw a couple men in blue.<br />To me it's so damn easy to see<br />that true people are the people at home.<br />Well, I've been away but now I'm back today,<br />and there ain't a place I'd rather go.<br />I feel home,<br />when I see the faces that remember my own.<br />I feel home,<br />when I'm chilling outside with the people I know.<br />I feel home,<br />and that's just what I feel.<br />Home to me is reality,<br />and all I need is something real."<br /> ~ OAR, "I Feel Home"<br /><br /><br />On December 1, 2005 we moved to Denver, and it immediately felt like home to us and we plan to live here forever. However, a little part of the midwest will always have out hearts.<br /><br />We went "home" to Indy for Memorial Weekend. As usual, we packed it crazy full and bounced from one event to the next with little time to spare, but we had a great time with our families and friends and it was wonderful to see everyone. <br /><br />Time goes by so quickly these days, and just because we are far away and may not have talked in a while, it doesn't mean that you are not in our hearts always. <br /><br />Thanks to everyone for making our trip home a great one. You are all invited to our new home for a visit anytime!Jen Estes Lordhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16359483232366100682noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2823187093201074438.post-24713378481610833852011-05-25T09:07:00.000-07:002011-05-25T09:20:20.916-07:00Some People...<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiij6gp-B6p_eDm5XYykQLCCOesk2uPOxkzmul7kMBRp1CpGK2W0Xr-gK0yLDUAfjWAfyZhkleXafvQtFMbGxkJiRoOJjOh9qqRjq2lt_mi71I0pfMahP41iKkE9EoPXMZCgP4fEKQUh10/s1600/Footprints.gif"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 375px; height: 379px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiij6gp-B6p_eDm5XYykQLCCOesk2uPOxkzmul7kMBRp1CpGK2W0Xr-gK0yLDUAfjWAfyZhkleXafvQtFMbGxkJiRoOJjOh9qqRjq2lt_mi71I0pfMahP41iKkE9EoPXMZCgP4fEKQUh10/s400/Footprints.gif" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5610689273624118114" /></a><br />There are some people in your life that when they come into it, you realize you had been holding a special place in your heart for. <br /><br />Your life feels more complete once you meet them.<br /><br />You miss them when they are not there.<br /><br />And no matter what, the thought of them can always make you smile.Jen Estes Lordhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16359483232366100682noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2823187093201074438.post-2514876080784087212011-05-23T09:31:00.000-07:002011-05-23T09:44:00.741-07:00I Love Visitors<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIxFAM3B_Qgtul4mklEpNXl0XVzjI3b-kUT8fKB5O4mgwK9alqQeBh_tOCBqS7Nm7zF3Kw1MEMkV3zDl5-4Pn6oH86ZhRk-JLyiwyb-6ZNY8BcVjJyBUTWF8kY51XDhPI-lYwbth7CsoI/s1600/Jen+%2526+Kristen.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIxFAM3B_Qgtul4mklEpNXl0XVzjI3b-kUT8fKB5O4mgwK9alqQeBh_tOCBqS7Nm7zF3Kw1MEMkV3zDl5-4Pn6oH86ZhRk-JLyiwyb-6ZNY8BcVjJyBUTWF8kY51XDhPI-lYwbth7CsoI/s400/Jen+%2526+Kristen.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5609950632221014914" /></a><br />I love when people come to visit. <br /><br />I enjoy making the trip to the airport (even though DIA is in BFE), especially when it means that I get to pick someone special up. <br /><br />Saturday, it was Husband's cousin, Kristen. She just graduated from Colgate University and is getting ready to start a 6 week summer geology program that happens to begin in Denver. So it worked out perfectly for her to come visit us for a few days before setting off on her next adventure. <br /><br />Kristen is like the little sister I never had. When we are together we laugh uncontrollably, talk nonstop and just have a great time. She is an amazing person, one of those people that you can't get enough of, she is funny and caring and really wants to experience all that life has to offer. We've talked about traveling and school and the future. She makes the most random comments sometimes, and she makes me laugh all the time. She is one of the sweetest people I have ever met, and her scatterbrained moments are always amusing. <br /><br />She makes me a better person. <br /><br />She keeps me young.Jen Estes Lordhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16359483232366100682noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2823187093201074438.post-52925986739346996792011-05-16T12:41:00.000-07:002011-05-16T13:19:47.233-07:00I love my Bikes<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_DZE3OQ3ut0rrlJMXrIYpdI_jlPs28aMZa2GmDYkZGyhrCDKKLxr8B9lAplbtaW9FkK_xyqqmDNZ04RKdcyWiYces86EFC-oPIR8K42u7j88Zp3bf50UJrD4TZ9-xM1eHDu9mqkrrplI/s1600/I+love+my+Bike.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_DZE3OQ3ut0rrlJMXrIYpdI_jlPs28aMZa2GmDYkZGyhrCDKKLxr8B9lAplbtaW9FkK_xyqqmDNZ04RKdcyWiYces86EFC-oPIR8K42u7j88Zp3bf50UJrD4TZ9-xM1eHDu9mqkrrplI/s400/I+love+my+Bike.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5607404082611667938" /></a><br />This should say bikeS, plural. Last year when I let Husband talk me into getting 2new bikes (a handsome Gary Fisher 29er for him, and a beautiful Specialized Dolce road bike for me), my only stipulation was that we get rid of at least 2 of the bikes we had at home. So, with the help of good ol' Craigslist, we sold my old mountain bike and his old fixie. That took us down to a 4 bike family - a road bike and a mountain bike for each of us (I inherited his old mountain bike.)<br /><br />Fast forward almost a year exactly, and I opened my big mouth and said I wanted a "junker" bike, one that I could take on the lightrail to and from work, I could ride downtown, and one that I could lock up somewhere and not be completely heartbroken (and broke!) if it was stolen. <br /><br />Once again, trusty ol' Craigslist came through for us and on Sunday morning we responded to an ad for a "Single Speed Convert - $50". The size was perfect for me, and the price was right, so we went to check it out. Just so happened that the guy actually had two bikes, one just a larger version of the other...the perfect size for husband. <br /><br />After taking a ride around the block, the very nice older gentleman selling the bikes said, "I'll tell you what, if you want them both, you can have them both for $50."<br /><br />SCORE!<br /><br />After chatting some more with the seller and exchanging $$ we loaded the bikes onto the yak rack and set off on our way. As we were driving away Husband said, "We are a six bike family again." <br /><br />What the...?!?<br /><br />Sigh.<br /><br />Oh well, I love my bikes, all of them. The two in the workout room, the two in the basement, and the two new (to us) bikes that are currently leaning against the wall between the living room and the dining room. I mean, isn't that where you keep your bike<em><strong>S</strong></em>?Jen Estes Lordhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16359483232366100682noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2823187093201074438.post-45662606953042663722011-05-09T09:13:00.000-07:002011-05-09T10:58:04.103-07:00My Race - I Did It!Despite all of the nerves and anxiety of last week, I managed to get my stuff in order on Friday night, have a delicious dinner and head to bed by 8:30. I know that is crazy early, but so is 4:30 in the morning when my alarm was set to go off. <br /><br />I rested in bed before dozing off watching mindless tv and trying not to think about the race. <br /><br />In spite of the party our new neighbors had that night, I managed to get a good night sleep (poor husband was not so lucky, but good for him, he wasn't racing on Saturday.)<br /><br />At 4:30am when my alarm went off, I hit snooze, thought briefly about the race and dozed again. 9 minutes later, the alarm chimed a second time and I shut it off, stretched my arms and legs big, and decided to get up. <br /><br />On Friday, I made sure that I had gotten everything together so that I would not feel rushed or forget something on race morning. After brushing my hair and teeth and getting dressed in layers, I woke husband up and headed downstairs for breakfast. 10 minutes later we were heading out the door just as the sky was changing from the dark of night and the sun was getting ready to peek over the horizon. I love the color of the sky at that time. <br /><br />We drove to the park and I waited for the nerves to kick in, but they never really did. I was pumped, I was excited, I was ready. <br /><br />Husband stayed at the jeep to finish a couple of last minute tuning things on my bike while I headed to the check-in tent. I was handed a packet with three copies of my race number (1 for me, 1 for my bike, and 1 for my helmet.) A second person handed me a Vitamin Water backpack full of sponsor information, treats, coupons and my race shirt. Then I ventured into the intimidating lair that would be the transition area. <br /><br />I felt like I was in over my head, but I just pretended like I knew what I was doing and walked to the front of the transition area where all of the Elite/Pro and veteran racers were setting up. I had read about this part of the race a lot online, so I looked around and found a spot that I thought would work best for me and was easy to find and I began to lay out my things. I had a bright towel so I could recognize my spot when I came through the transition area both times during the race. I layed out my bike shoes and my bike helmet with the strap undone, ready to throw on my head. I opened my clif shots and had them ready for a quick slam. Husband brought my bike to me and I set it in the stand. Determined not to look like a first timer that couldn't find their bike, I walked the transition area twice: the way I would come in from the first run, and the way I would come back with my bike. I counted the racks to my bike from the entrance and from the water cooler in the middle of transition area. I knew where I was going. <br /><br />After a quick pre-race talk, the organizers kicked everyone out of the transition area to begin staging the start. There were 7 waves of starts based on division and length of the race. There was a short course and long course (I did the short course) and age divisions. I was in Wave E, so there were a lot of people starting before me, and 70 women starting in my wave. My goal was to stay ahead of as many of the other women as I could. <br /><br />When it was my wave's turn to line up, I found myself in the middle of the pack. Originally, it was my goal to finish in the top 1/2, but as my training progressed, I knew that I would be more successful than that, so I moved closer to the front. 1/3 of the way, still too far. Not wanting to have to fight through a crowd on the opening run, I made my way closer and finally landed in the second row behind the starting line. 10 seconds...5...4...3...2...GO!<br /><br />With only a handful of people infront of me at the start, I made sure no one from behind came up. As we made the first turn, there were 6 people in front of me. (Husband told me later that by the first 1/4 mile, there was a gap between the front group and the rest of the pack.) Immediately I thought, "7th place is great, if I can just keep close to the other 6 maybe I can pass a couple of them on the bike." Then one started to slow and I passed her, then another, then another. I was in 4th place and felt good. Right on the heels of 2nd and 3rd place, we all ran into the first transition together. They were at the back of the area, while I had strategically placed my bike up front knowing it would be easier to run through the transition area in my running shoes than it would be in my bike shoes toating my bike (no riding in the transition areas).<br /><br />I shot 1/2 my chocolate Clif shot and took a swig of water, changed my running shoes into my bike shoes, threw my helmet on, and just as I was grabbing my bike I saw the 2nd place girl heading out. I wanted to catch her. Crossing the bike mounting area I jumped onto my bike, and started rolling, I was out of breath, I was shaking, I was FULL of adreneline. She started pulling away from me, and I tried to gain my composure and catch her. On the first climb, I succeeded, and was trying to make ground on her for the rest of the race. After the first climb, racers are treated to a fast, 3/4 mile descent which always makes my eyes water. I flew down it and regained my control steadying my breath. I looked forward for new carrots. The ride is a roughly 10-mile out and back loop, at the turn around I was close to a guy and was determined to catch him. A couple of minutes later, unable to close the gap, I put my chin to the bars, rolled forward on my seat, and dug in, passing two guys in one move. Smiling to myself, I kept pushing on. <br /><br />3/4 of the way through the bike is a double steep hill, racers would hit one longer, not as steep section before turning at the top for a brief 20 foot rest before a super steep shorter hill. (I found during my training that thinking of it as 2 hills instead of one long one, actually made it seem a little easier.) It was hard, and although I passed someone, it still felt painfully slow. <br /><br />Again, the course was nice treating racers to a flat stretch at the top of the hard climb before a long, fast downhill. I caught my breath and took a few swigs of water on the flat section, and then went into the drops and spun my legs hard as I cruised down the long descent. So fast actually that because of another racer's near crash at the bottom, husband didn't even see me coming until I sped by him. "Hi baby," I told him. <br /><br />Only one more uphill, a turnaround, and a return to the transition area left on the bike, I passed a couple more people and flew into the turnaround. Shortly after, I saw the next girl heading towards the turnaround. Again, I dropped into the drops and pushed hard. She had beat me (barely) on the first run, and I knew that I would be hurting for the second, so I needed as much time between us as I could get. <br /><br />I spun my legs out as I raced to the transition area and jumped off my bike. Again glad to be at the front of the TA, I put my bike back in the stand, stripped my helmet and bike shoes and put my running shoes back on. As I grabbed my 1/2 finished Clif shot from earlier, I saw the next girl come into transition. I needed to move. With a mouth full of chocolate goo, I started running. <br /><br />Out of the back of the transition area and onto the paved path, my legs felt like they were the size of an elephants legs and were anchored to the ground. Just keep moving.<br /><br />Husband was ahead on the path cheering me on, and for a minute I forgot about the pain. But just for a minute. <br /><br />I caught a guy on the road and told him, "Good job." A minute later, another guy passed me and told me the same thing. Turns out he was the leader of the men's long course. They had started 20 minutes before me, but had done twice as much distance as I had...man, these guys were quick! I only saw him for a second before he disappeared in the distance. I pressed on knowing that the next girl could catch me. I told myself that if she did, I would need to be able to keep her close, but in reality, I just didn't want her to catch me at all. <br /><br />At about mile 1.5 into the 2nd run, there is a switchback and as the path turns, it climbs steep hill. As I was climbing I had full view of the path behind me and I saw her. Damnit...she was getting closer. Just keep moving.<br /><br />I passed a few more guys, told them "good job" and encouraged them that we were almost done. At the mile 2 sign, I had to pee. 1.1 miles to go, this would either make me faster or make a mess. <br /><br />A couple more climbs, around the parking lot and downhill to the finish, I knew the course and I was ready to be done. I didn't know how much longer I could hold her off. When I popped out of the trail to cross the road I was suprised by the volunteer telling me to take and unexpected turn. In an effort to add distance to get the full 5k in, the organizers made us run to the end of the road, turn around, and come back to the trail that crossed the road. On the way back from the sudden detour, I saw her. If she had a big kick left in her, she could catch me. I took a deep breath and ran. <br /><br />Finishing the path, I raced around the parking lot and was grateful to make the run onto the downhill to the finish. I pushed and didn't look back for fear that she would be right behind me. I heard my name as I crossed the finish line and I felt like collapsing. A volunteer handed me a water bottle while another took off my timing chip anklet. I saw husband and he asked me what I needed. I told him that I needed to pee.<br /><br />It was over. After all of the training, all of the anxiety, all of the time, it was over, and I had done it. A short while later, the organizers started posting the results on a board outside of the transition area. <br /><br />We searched for my name and didn't have to look far down the list. I was the sixth name on the sheet, having beat the times of all by 4 guys and 1 girl. I beat the third place girl by over a minute, but I felt her chasing me the whole time. <br /><br />I did it!<br /><br />As my training progressed my goals had changed. Leading up to the race my final goals were:<br /><br />1:10:00 total race time<br />9:30 first run<br />32:00 bike<br /><24:00 second run<br />and I thought it was a stretch goal but I wanted to be in the top 10 women.<br /><br />Actual results:<br />1 hour 7 minute 1 second total race time<br />8:13 first run<br />31:58 bike<br />24:46 second run (This was due to the added detour on the second run)<br />6th place overall<br />2nd place woman<br />1st place age divisionJen Estes Lordhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16359483232366100682noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2823187093201074438.post-67146871573580234122011-05-06T13:19:00.000-07:002011-05-09T09:11:48.978-07:00PressureSo tomorrow is my first race and I definitely feel like I am cracking under the pressure. Husband keeps reminding me that I am the only one putting pressure on myself, but I feel like I have put all of my hard work out there for everyone to see, so now everyone is expecting to see big results. I just hope I can do it.<br /><br />Sometimes when I think about the race I am totally fine. Other times I feel like I am going to yarf on my shoes. <br /><br />I am just going to go out there, give it my all, and do the best that I possibly can.<br /><br />GOAL:<br />9 1/2 minute first leg<br />32 minute second leg<br /><24 minute third leg<br /><br />I can do this, I can do this, I am not a lu-lu-natic.Jen Estes Lordhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16359483232366100682noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2823187093201074438.post-8608940697418596042011-05-02T13:55:00.000-07:002011-05-02T13:58:03.217-07:00AZTR - A View From HomeAt the end of March when Erick was laid off from his job, a lot of questions hung in the air. Naturally, one of the big ones was what to do next. We sat down and had that necessary husband/wife discussion, "What do you want to do? What will make you happy?” and ending with me telling him 'I think you should take some time off to really figure out what you really want'. <br /><br />A couple of days later he mentioned that Jill, his 24-hour racing partner asked him again about riding a 300-mile Arizona Trail Race with her citing that since he no longer had a job, now he didn't have any excuses either. I agreed with Jill. Even though he hadn't been preparing for this race, I know a long ultra-endurance race like this was something he had always wanted to do and it was the type of race that really suited him, so I told him he should go. A little befuddled at my encouragement of a trip given the unemployment status, he now had a decision to make. To race or not to race. He had reasons and support to go and the only thing stopping him was himself. <br /><br />He agreed to do the race and over the next 2 1/2 weeks (in true Erick fashion) he poured over the past race reports, studied the course, bought the necessary supplies, loaded and reloaded his bike. Thought it was too heavy and eliminated weight again. Daily he questioned his sanity for committing to such an event, daily I reassured him that he could do it. <br /><br />The prep consumed our discussions and haunted his dreams. I didn't stress about which tires to ride, how many tubes to carry, or the weight of a bike - That was his job. I thought about his safety, the mean Arizona cactus, the toll 300 miles can take on his body and I thought about missing my husband. I unequivocally knew he could do this, I just questioned whether his equipment would put up as strong of a fight.<br /><br />Finally the time came for him to head to Arizona. Jill & her brother came to pick him up to head to the airport. With hugs and kisses and the promise to watch and be available if they needed anything, they were off. They were riding a high as they left Denver. I sat down on the couch with a glass of wine and truly contemplated what was about to occur. <br /><br />Glad they had gone down a day and a half early to get final prep done and not have to rush to the starting line early Friday morning, life in Denver went on as usual. I sent out messages to our family and friends giving the link to the leader map for race tracking. I enjoyed the emails back from across the county and around the world offering support and cheers for his journey.<br /><br />Friday morning chatting with a friend on facebook he asked me, "Why haven't they started yet?!?" I reminded him that it wasn't 9 in Arizona yet and I felt reassured knowing that I wasn't the only one with the tracking page loaded in a new tab hitting refresh every 5 minutes to see if the dots had started moving yet.<br /><br />Now I've been around enough adventure races and watched enough other bike races to know that the waiting and watching for your people to check in can be unbearable, so I scheduled some distractions for the weekend starting with 2 of my best friends coming over on Friday night for dinner and drinks. <br /><br />On my way home from work I got the first call from Erick. Seven hours into the race he was in Patagonia and did not sound good. The heat (which his body has never responded well to) was kicking his ass. We had checked weather reports and knew it was going to be hot, but we didn't think about how his body would react. I knew though that he would fight through it and that if he could figure out how to keep moving, even slowly during the heat, he could make up time by speeding through the cooler temperatures of the nights. <br /><br />He loves to ride at night saying that everything else disappears and it allows you to just concentrate on the next 5 feet. Feeling his spirits lift a little during our call we said goodbye and I didn't expect to hear from him until the next day. I was shocked and concerned when my phone rang an hour and a half later and it was Erick. He was in Sonoita and having major cramping in his legs. This had never happened before. He wanted to know natural remedies so I jumped online and googled. He needed potassium: bananas, tuna. He needed liquids and water filled fruits. He took the advice and didn't have cramping issues for the rest of the ride. I think the brutal Arizona heat had just drained him, literally, of the nutrients he needed. <br /><br />Unable to sleep knowing he was still riding, I made cupcakes and frosting from scratch at 1:30 in the morning. I didn't go to sleep until I saw his pin stop for the night. For the next several nights our dog enjoyed being able to sleep in our bed to keep me company. Also in arms reach were my cell phone and laptop. On more than one occasion I woke up in the middle of the night, booted the computer and checked everyone’s locations before falling back to sleep.<br /><br />I seeded and composted the yard, caught up on DVR’d shows, worked out, baked, visited with friends...I did everything I could to keep busy to help make the time pass without focusing solely on the race. To this end, technology can be both a blessing and a curse. Knowing that he could call me or send me a SPOT message if he had a problem is truly a comforting feeling. But staring at a computer screen waiting for a blue dot update can be nervewracking. <br /><br />Positive thoughts came flooding in across emails and social media. High school friends and college friends, people we’ve just met and people who we’ve known our whole lives, people near and people on the other side of the world sent well wishes and cheered him on. Every brief time I spoke with him, I shared their messages. He would tell me later that it was all of the encouragement that kept him going mile after mile. <br /><br />Monday morning while in the shower, my phone rang. I stuck my head out of the shower, dried off my ear, and said hello. The voice on the other end was not as chipper as I had hoped. He was 200 miles into the race and had just spent over an hour on the side of the trail dealing with tire issues. There were no more towns, no promise of cell coverage, and no tubes left after this last one. He was pissed, but he was going to press on and hope the last tube could get him to the finish. Unsure if he would have much cell coverage, he told me that if I got a SPOT message from him, that he would continue forward to the next road and wait for a ride. My heart sank. He couldn’t be done, he was SO close (figuratively speaking of course). <br /><br />All day long I hoped that my phone would not ring. I sent out all of the positive energy I could muster, and just kept telling myself, “He can do this, he WILL finish.” I tried to keep myself busy and not stare at the race tracker, but it was hard. He could do this...he could finish...<br /><br />At 4 that afternoon with less than 50 miles to go I got a call from a friend who, like me, was following the race on the computer. When he asked, “Why is Erick so far off course?” my heart dropped into my stomach. I refreshed my screen and saw that he was indeed quite a ways off course and headed directly for a road. NO! I quickly hung up with my friend and called Jill, who was going to be picking Erick up at the finish. She was just as worried as I was and reassured me that she would get to him as quickly as she could knowing that he would have to be walking his bike for him not to be pushing forward anymore. A minute after hanging up, Jill called back and said, “He’s back on course!” What...a...relief. On the online discussion thread related to the race, someone posted, “Looks like Erick Lord is off route getting water at one of the waypoint marked locations.” I felt silly.<br /><br />Before Erick left, he mentioned that he was a little jealous that we would all get to sit at home and watch the race playout, but I reminded him, “You are the race, you get to live it.” It’s funny to look back and see how different our experiences were. That blip off the trail was a planned stop for him, and it had me ready to call out the search parties!<br /><br />I finally heard from him around 9pm Monday night. He was in much better spirits, and he was tired. He said he would go a little farther that night then sleep for a couple of hours before making the final push to the finish line. I talked to his mother that night and she assured me that she had been watching the whole race unfold. I felt good when I went to bed that night (dog, laptop and cell phone close at hand) and woke up around 4 am. I checked the website, he was moving. I woke up again around 5:30, he was moving. 6:30, moving. <br /><br />Something I forgot to mention previously was the attrition rate of this years race. By Saturday night, 36 hours into the race, half of the racers had dropped out, by Sunday night it was more including Jill, Erick’s 24-hour racing partner and the reason for him making the trip down to begin with. One by one, I watched their names be crossed off the race tracking website, their blue dots disappearing. Two racers finished on Monday. Come Tuesday morning, only 2 dots were left on the screen. <br /><br />Several times on the discussion thread about the race, people mentioned that the last 10 miles were frustratingly slow miles and that was the case for those of us watching at home too. Immediately Tuesday morning when I got to work, I opened the race tracking website. In a new tab, I logged into Facebook, and was immediately greeted by notifications cheering Erick on, and chats from family & friends. Slowly the dot moved across the screen, slowly the minutes ticked by. I tried to do work, but just couldn’t focus, so I stared at the screen. A.l.m.o.s.t. t.h.e.r.e...<br /><br />Finally, at 8:52 am Tuesday morning, I got a text from Jill at the finish line. After 3 days, 23 hours and 52 minutes, he was done, he made it, 300 miles in the mean, unforgiving Arizona desert. I couldn’t wait to hear from him, to congratulate him, I couldn’t wait to see him and hug him. The knot in my stomach began to unravel, my heartrate returned to normal, and my tense shoulders relaxed. 20 minutes later, I got the call. “I’m done, I finished.” I said, “Yes you did finish, and you finished in 3rd place!” <br /><br />At first I think the words just confused him, because he started asking about some of the other riders, “Matt?” <br /><br />“Out.”<br /><br />“Brad M?”<br /><br />“Out.”<br /><br />“Max?”<br /><br />“Behind you, he’s been chasing you all morning.”<br /><br />Then I swear, I could hear the smile creep across his face. <br /><br />10 hours later, I was at the airport waiting for Erick and Jill to arrive. They both got off their planes tanned, scratched, and bruised, but with unremovable grins. <br /><br />A race like this can teach you a lot of things, whether you are actually participating or just watching from home. It teaches you about the inner strength of people, the support you have that you may not always realize is there. I know Erick fought his own demons (and the Arizona cacti) while racing. I missed him, but I am so proud that he went, that he tried it and that through it all, he pushed through and finished. I am married to an amazing man. <br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgphGd_F6RuaPuTmymywAJrETpZoVA6ZDjkT1ZuTBAcFLMvsZY_fDYOUCHEII6C_y5vb99JV_352PKx23jJrN9fGK80CMOEFvMjMkbYGX6DB7mYKSEaHvYJ8txRKkgogzUOTq9vQVG1Fg8/s1600/AZTR+Finish.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgphGd_F6RuaPuTmymywAJrETpZoVA6ZDjkT1ZuTBAcFLMvsZY_fDYOUCHEII6C_y5vb99JV_352PKx23jJrN9fGK80CMOEFvMjMkbYGX6DB7mYKSEaHvYJ8txRKkgogzUOTq9vQVG1Fg8/s400/AZTR+Finish.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5602225862209413282" /></a>Jen Estes Lordhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16359483232366100682noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2823187093201074438.post-67173120303575579942011-04-25T13:49:00.000-07:002011-04-25T13:51:09.988-07:00I'm not perfect...<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjHHOjokUyKod-OzYzxRRm3RDzo3moLiIRieOEsI9ewGMDLgg2Ref69xZtES499oKX49LB4fPuNzuP3Z4kfE5hw6OYggA_KsvXVKc1SMR9Bq76Frc-JxaOC-DO6BTnigALtGCsqAn6Bhc/s1600/1.gif"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 342px; height: 254px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjHHOjokUyKod-OzYzxRRm3RDzo3moLiIRieOEsI9ewGMDLgg2Ref69xZtES499oKX49LB4fPuNzuP3Z4kfE5hw6OYggA_KsvXVKc1SMR9Bq76Frc-JxaOC-DO6BTnigALtGCsqAn6Bhc/s400/1.gif" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5599626386819460114" /></a><br />Not my quote...but DEFINITELY fits me.Jen Estes Lordhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16359483232366100682noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2823187093201074438.post-70493509990451715892011-04-14T10:25:00.000-07:002011-04-14T10:27:03.305-07:00Remember When...<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioyBpHlEjEOT92HKJ-Ux-AhJa03oY9pq-3YwzBzVtZ_ErJixBvJ0b0wfkfB2xIoX0kQvYdpv3BGdVQTzIG3GTb48SNFgjv51nffi6yXsg54sar190x3q9xtZP5esaU6p3ShFG2QsEP83c/s1600/Remember_When.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 290px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioyBpHlEjEOT92HKJ-Ux-AhJa03oY9pq-3YwzBzVtZ_ErJixBvJ0b0wfkfB2xIoX0kQvYdpv3BGdVQTzIG3GTb48SNFgjv51nffi6yXsg54sar190x3q9xtZP5esaU6p3ShFG2QsEP83c/s400/Remember_When.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5595491951203843266" /></a><br />Remember when we used to stay up all night talking about everything and nothing?<br /><br />Remember when we used to play house?<br /><br />Remember when I told you to stop talking because my sides hurt from laughing so hard?<br /><br />Remember sitting and watching the sunrise together?<br /><br />Remember when I surprised you?<br /><br />Remember when we didn’t have a care in the world?<br /><br />Remember when???Jen Estes Lordhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16359483232366100682noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2823187093201074438.post-10862243032061362502011-04-12T07:51:00.000-07:002011-04-12T08:01:41.057-07:00New Mantra<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgErF2m2V9ZXiMIFnNnqCkSz0nt4L1fjwDZj0voW_LziId-Zru-UQkGVQZnZbxhQ_KWkz1qIhgBMGcc3CtrPwSgwgaZBw5WZ1rHa6hpcXyr6q3yUwLnS2HrlR5xfpJL0-b5LlROwMDwrk8/s1600/No+Excuses.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgErF2m2V9ZXiMIFnNnqCkSz0nt4L1fjwDZj0voW_LziId-Zru-UQkGVQZnZbxhQ_KWkz1qIhgBMGcc3CtrPwSgwgaZBw5WZ1rHa6hpcXyr6q3yUwLnS2HrlR5xfpJL0-b5LlROwMDwrk8/s400/No+Excuses.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5594712426201639810" /></a><br /><em><strong>No Apologies <br />No Excuses <br />Just do it</strong></em><br /><br />New mantra, repeat as often as necessary.Jen Estes Lordhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16359483232366100682noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2823187093201074438.post-87517279848922078762011-04-07T09:58:00.000-07:002011-04-08T12:36:48.724-07:00Three Things I Learned Last Night<iframe title="YouTube video player" width="640" height="390" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/t8ArzDCV-6I" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen></iframe><br />1. Andy Grammer is one of my new favorite people.<br /><br />2. Even though you may have only known someone a couple of months, they can still make you laugh until your sides hurt, do things you never thought you would, and can always make you smile.<br /><br />3. Listening to live music can always make things feel right.Jen Estes Lordhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16359483232366100682noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2823187093201074438.post-14741847608047020082011-04-05T09:24:00.000-07:002011-04-05T09:30:09.897-07:00Expressing the Passion Within<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRQq3ECES7cA1K1Y5HUkrefu2P9Fig1PQv7ad_hMhXlxyNil_nTrX733RU4SvA_ahrtM1vSh2AaGE0xXJUhkiIX64oW6qMo1rFVVN-HCLVUczKf4_8PuDQbfttYQ5ruDIBTStYKhk_Ep8/s1600/Baking.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRQq3ECES7cA1K1Y5HUkrefu2P9Fig1PQv7ad_hMhXlxyNil_nTrX733RU4SvA_ahrtM1vSh2AaGE0xXJUhkiIX64oW6qMo1rFVVN-HCLVUczKf4_8PuDQbfttYQ5ruDIBTStYKhk_Ep8/s400/Baking.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5592136501690749090" /></a><br />"Find something you're passionate about and keep tremendously interested in it." ~Julia Child<br /><br />I feel like I am on a path for maybe the first time in my life. Sure, I've crossed it before, but never actually been ON the path. <br /><br />I look forward to the things to come with eager anticipation and know deep down that it's all going to work out.Jen Estes Lordhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16359483232366100682noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2823187093201074438.post-85098019526148756842011-04-04T08:16:00.000-07:002011-04-04T08:19:28.009-07:005 Weeks To Go<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_j6qFEuKrtsOzgOiVwwN-GVfO_VIczN_upvZdUVuZPYa8bowWDUDU8eC2gPZFx2cwtVxooJmZahJPT5dfJY6rrbTgSej9BZ3Ffx0MRcWQVRRv61Ali0ZZGjJdTmVQC77D6mxjXDyK97s/s1600/Fit+in+5.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 246px; height: 165px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_j6qFEuKrtsOzgOiVwwN-GVfO_VIczN_upvZdUVuZPYa8bowWDUDU8eC2gPZFx2cwtVxooJmZahJPT5dfJY6rrbTgSej9BZ3Ffx0MRcWQVRRv61Ali0ZZGjJdTmVQC77D6mxjXDyK97s/s400/Fit+in+5.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5591747636727226194" /></a><br /><br />My first duathlon is in less than 5 weeks. Man time flies when you're in training. <br /><br />I find myself very excited, anxious, and nervous, and just want to leave it all out there and kick ass. <br /><br />Goal for the last five weeks - stay focused, don't miss workouts, improve my times, and feel prepared. <br /><br />I can do this.Jen Estes Lordhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16359483232366100682noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2823187093201074438.post-63978834031989349792011-04-01T08:04:00.000-07:002011-04-04T08:09:07.174-07:00Opening Day = Adult Senior Skip Day<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjk-mSn7ibtslkYiA54wx3uAmYVTd9NVW1Lw01Vuu8QK6lU_sCaarSCMGOjlRlUpeaOFEc5VmwTrAkYxg5ovsgLjGVV1i55yaA0Sjoe-S9-wYDHwzXXVmfhShK75MMR9Zw6EA9ErgEaXkk/s1600/Opening+Day.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 267px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjk-mSn7ibtslkYiA54wx3uAmYVTd9NVW1Lw01Vuu8QK6lU_sCaarSCMGOjlRlUpeaOFEc5VmwTrAkYxg5ovsgLjGVV1i55yaA0Sjoe-S9-wYDHwzXXVmfhShK75MMR9Zw6EA9ErgEaXkk/s400/Opening+Day.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5591744703417042098" /></a><br /><br />Opening Day...the day the adults skip work and go watch America's Favorite Pastime, drink too much beer, and men proudly sport the color purple. <br /><br />Opening Day is the equivilant to Indy's Carb Day (which in all of my years in Naptown, I never actually attended).<br /><br />So glad I got to enjoy Opening Day again this year. I think it should be a mandatory happening every year.Jen Estes Lordhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16359483232366100682noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2823187093201074438.post-30041562961617598612011-03-31T07:55:00.000-07:002011-03-31T08:14:44.350-07:00Somewhere over the rainbow...<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhc7ULE8oDI4AWiFTfJNX13RA320Ur-bOCztw1857ECX3resYEDzWsMBfB8RvHM2FE3yLterwzgYXpoWNkKEv_Lz5kIfk9lOE-kJ3TGxY0rvE6hGmshNvE9olbLp9Wj3CKfhzuNbJdTk2o/s1600/Wizard+of+Oz.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 241px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhc7ULE8oDI4AWiFTfJNX13RA320Ur-bOCztw1857ECX3resYEDzWsMBfB8RvHM2FE3yLterwzgYXpoWNkKEv_Lz5kIfk9lOE-kJ3TGxY0rvE6hGmshNvE9olbLp9Wj3CKfhzuNbJdTk2o/s400/Wizard+of+Oz.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5590262115601583506" /></a><br />"But it wasn't a dream. It was a place, and you and you and you and you were there. But you couldn't have been, could you?"<br /><br />Husband has always told me that I have the strangest dreams, but it still blows my mind when real people, real memories, real places invade my sleep. Especially when it's something/someone that I have not even thought about in years and years. <br /><br />Why does that happen?!?<br /><br />It just leaves me awake and confused. <br /><br />How strange.Jen Estes Lordhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16359483232366100682noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2823187093201074438.post-29364716571014527252011-03-30T08:05:00.001-07:002011-03-30T08:07:15.099-07:00Spring is coming<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiutsoPJeByjquA6gJz1iF4c2-fXcVjhPcU8PjGhQDO4bNtAImkM0vdXIMzmk8pkKBUlIhdzne0Hr0B7C3QqKIEcNnJwTJY784mQ0wlIDTnlZOcteMH3fCocTOxQIblaaW20eZJdShSD28/s1600/spring.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiutsoPJeByjquA6gJz1iF4c2-fXcVjhPcU8PjGhQDO4bNtAImkM0vdXIMzmk8pkKBUlIhdzne0Hr0B7C3QqKIEcNnJwTJY784mQ0wlIDTnlZOcteMH3fCocTOxQIblaaW20eZJdShSD28/s400/spring.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5589889394172362162" /></a><br /><br />Despite it's best efforts, winter is slowly fading into spring. One of the best things about spring in Denver is the views - Snow capped mountains and budding trees, the grass slowly changing to green. <br /><br />Spring makes anything seem possible.Jen Estes Lordhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16359483232366100682noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2823187093201074438.post-52235902703359115492011-03-29T13:54:00.000-07:002011-03-29T14:20:12.059-07:00Yippee<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrOHfEzC7I9U9Goex60NZ7m-ykJw1MZvj1T80w-jnFAthamfH71XuFFanTNU8-inA55bhmYc555jixnCdyQe4p8NvpkVt2SZ8646p_GVeiggW3r1oNu9X-jQ25p_lND3i6SsNEBjZRXKw/s1600/dancing-french-B.gif"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 314px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrOHfEzC7I9U9Goex60NZ7m-ykJw1MZvj1T80w-jnFAthamfH71XuFFanTNU8-inA55bhmYc555jixnCdyQe4p8NvpkVt2SZ8646p_GVeiggW3r1oNu9X-jQ25p_lND3i6SsNEBjZRXKw/s400/dancing-french-B.gif" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5589597575948843842" /></a><br /><br />Finding out that friends are coming to visit may be more exciting than Christmas morning.Jen Estes Lordhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16359483232366100682noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2823187093201074438.post-49580653958776058222011-03-28T08:32:00.000-07:002011-03-28T08:44:48.616-07:00Wandering Mind<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPJTt4eQ9LdmtQ7onHaiuEgSk3vmim5UKB8QeehQikrGSWP4XAsPpsZLXRvhTgCp3jAaqIt5NpMK6Xsu01a2-RNz9vtUJrnSeUaNDDhSZIhnJr1NmRyLqcSD_J3D1IKbjycgIvXe2BJhI/s1600/work_3594486_2_flat%252C550x550%252C075%252Cf_my-mind-may-wander-but-my-heart-stays-in-place.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPJTt4eQ9LdmtQ7onHaiuEgSk3vmim5UKB8QeehQikrGSWP4XAsPpsZLXRvhTgCp3jAaqIt5NpMK6Xsu01a2-RNz9vtUJrnSeUaNDDhSZIhnJr1NmRyLqcSD_J3D1IKbjycgIvXe2BJhI/s400/work_3594486_2_flat%252C550x550%252C075%252Cf_my-mind-may-wander-but-my-heart-stays-in-place.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5589154935319562146" /></a><br /><br />I've had a wandering mind lately, changing like the winds as spring blows in. <br /><br />There are a million ideas running through my head and sometimes I find it hard to sleep as I am so full of anticipation of making the ideas come to fruition.Jen Estes Lordhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16359483232366100682noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2823187093201074438.post-37784775706481435232011-03-22T18:45:00.000-07:002011-03-23T17:55:47.537-07:00I heart foodI have come to realized that my senses have a profound effect on the food I eat. Husband can eat anything regardless of how it looks or smells. Not me.<br /><br />If it looks gross, smells bad, tastes funny, feels yucky, or even sounds weird, I have a really hard time with it. <br /><br />I'm all about texture and love the smell of yummy food cooking in the kitchen. I enjoy how the thought of your favorite foods can make your mouth water.<br /><br />In recent years I have really expanded my palette and although I am still a little finicky about what I eat, I have to remind myself that just because it looks weird, it might taste really good. Just because I don't like the name of it, it can become my new favorite. I just have to give it a chance (if I can stomach it!)<br /><br />As a wedding gift we got a fabulous set of dishes. They are classic white that work perfectly for dinner on the couch or a formal sit down with friends. It's fun to watch colors pop on the white backdrop.<br /><br />One of my favorite things to do is put on my apron, pour a glass of wine and create deliciousness!<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKlcBNNncdzlPY9xgqwS5TcrlqLYzxdI617shzhupmxsQHIpg2ZA-WJgMQuvxMY5SKyACtiLW7YrO9_owxVHHowCyZbS0r52vIruNdSq19KoLxXdz6w_pq-FO5KTyn8ncajjetJYbpnDM/s1600/photo.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKlcBNNncdzlPY9xgqwS5TcrlqLYzxdI617shzhupmxsQHIpg2ZA-WJgMQuvxMY5SKyACtiLW7YrO9_owxVHHowCyZbS0r52vIruNdSq19KoLxXdz6w_pq-FO5KTyn8ncajjetJYbpnDM/s400/photo.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5587443167714153426" border="0" /></a><br />Tonight's dinner. Garlic alfredo risotto with yellow, orange & red bell peppers and zucchini, paired with a nice cab of course!Jen Estes Lordhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16359483232366100682noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2823187093201074438.post-55777956948042266592011-03-14T11:33:00.000-07:002011-03-14T11:51:39.620-07:00Don't lose your motivation<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXgvR50ig4Q1jYq9JLm9H0-lfgDI_4Ei275Rd3FShEEh2sUn5qD1o4FEd694Haz2SG5fMJMVVigN0zJ_iukUCgkiP_h7ezaQ2LBUBYufUmSzaJekfKqiZh_Sy5WG7esFqSO6P12eI3SMM/s1600/motivation.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 212px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXgvR50ig4Q1jYq9JLm9H0-lfgDI_4Ei275Rd3FShEEh2sUn5qD1o4FEd694Haz2SG5fMJMVVigN0zJ_iukUCgkiP_h7ezaQ2LBUBYufUmSzaJekfKqiZh_Sy5WG7esFqSO6P12eI3SMM/s320/motivation.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5584010015391221922" /></a><br />Life gets distracting sometimes and it's easy to lose sight of priorities. <br /><br />Yesterday while discussing something somewhat trivial in the long haul, a special friend reminded me, "Don't lose your motivation Jen." <br /><br />While I know he was speaking to the task at hand, I found it very inspirational, as this friend always has been.<br /><br />I'm adopting it as my mantra.Jen Estes Lordhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16359483232366100682noreply@blogger.com0