Shit Just Got All Unfigured

{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!}

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.

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.

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.

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 here). 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.

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.

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.

And as we had discussed the possibility before, we knew, "You don't say no to Patagonia."

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.

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.

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.

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.

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!"

Ironwoman...1/2 Ironwoman Anyways

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

I did it.

Inspiration comes in all forms...

I am inspired by the people around me.

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.

My true friends inspire me to laugh more, relax, and enjoy life.

My niece and nephews inspire me to simply live, to relish the little things, and to sit and watch the world.

My family inspires me to appreciate each moment, to support others and to be there when needed.

Bad people inspire me to look for the good, to turn the other cheek, and to get back up when knocked down.

I am inspired by challenges that I see people partake in: races, jobs, illness. Whether they fail or succeed.

Thank you for inspiring me.

Dude...Crashing Sucks

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.

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.

As much as I have been enjoying this, about 2 weeks ago, the new commute has been testing me.

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.

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)

Yesterday, as I was riding home a storm was brewing to the west. I wanted to get home before it hit.

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.

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.

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.

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!

Busy, Busy Bees

Man...where has this year gone?!?

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.

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.

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.

I am starting training for a big (long) duathlon in September and am getting pretty amped for that.

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!

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.

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.

Home

"There are few things pure in this world anymore,
and home is one of the few.
We'd have a drink outside,
maybe run and hide if we saw a couple men in blue.
To me it's so damn easy to see
that true people are the people at home.
Well, I've been away but now I'm back today,
and there ain't a place I'd rather go.
I feel home,
when I see the faces that remember my own.
I feel home,
when I'm chilling outside with the people I know.
I feel home,
and that's just what I feel.
Home to me is reality,
and all I need is something real."
~ OAR, "I Feel Home"


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.

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.

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.

Thanks to everyone for making our trip home a great one. You are all invited to our new home for a visit anytime!

Some People...

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.

Your life feels more complete once you meet them.

You miss them when they are not there.

And no matter what, the thought of them can always make you smile.