"I cannot go to school today"

I feel like little Peggy Ann McKay in the Shel Silverstein poem "Sick."

But I can't ride TOSRV tomorrow, my knee feels all tweaky.

My rear break is too loose?

It's too windy?

Too sunnny?

Oh, all right, fine.

We arrived in Columbus in the wee hours of this morning, bikes and camping gear in tow, and adventure in our hearts. I dropped into the bed at my father-in-law's around 2 and suddenly 8 o'clock came to early. My body was not yet willing to give up on sleep, but apparently my brain had other plans.

"It's light outside, so it must be time to get up!" it kept shouting at me.

I rolled out of bed and wandered upstairs to the kitchen for my required cup of coffee: it was time to get the day moving.

After a leisurely breakfast of yummy bagels and cold cuts, we moved outside to start organizing our gear: rolling and repacking our tent, stuffing sleeping bags that had just been tossed into the car, into their stuff bags, the hunting down of biking gloves that had gone astray from their helmets during the trip.

We adjusted my seat (to hopefully eliminate the tweaky knee that resulted during the last long ride), gave my handle bars a tiny turn up (wish I had done that a year and a half ago), and tightened the aforementioned loose rear break.

My saddle back has been packed with tools and spare tubes that I am completely unsure of how to use in the event of an emergency. But I did receive coaching on that as well. "Pull out the tools and the tube and then just play dumb. Someone will stop to help you," were my husband's sage words.


Excellent, no problem there.


Okay, yes, I should learn how to change a tire. Bicycles do not come with AAA after all. And how big of deal is it when I already know how to tighten my breaks and align my gears? One of these days....


The weather forecast had been promising, mid 60s and sunny. 


That has since changed to mid 50s, cloudy and winds at 25 mph from the WSW.


Great. We'll be bike SSE.

Sunday is slightly better. The winds drop to 12-15 mph but shift to coming out of the WNW, the direction we'll be heading.

Good times.

Here's to hoping that the weather man is wrong.

Once more, with feeling...

It's amazing, the greening that is going on right now. I swear that my garden was a dull pile of brown dirt just a couple of days ago. But the Hostas are insistently poking their creepy little worm-like talons up out of the ground now. Bushes and trees are starting to take on the green haze of early leaf buds. My favorite, the tulip trees, are getting ready to explode with their lush, pink chunky blossoms.

And as I bike more and more, I am beginning to appreciate the little things that you don't really notice when you're traveling by car. The croaking toads that I had mentioned earlier for one. The canopy of trees that cover a street that you bike up for another.

I took a new route home from the Y on Saturday: Bever Avenue.

It was a different type of hill than what I had been riding. Mostly they had been long and slow. This was a little more rolling. Different on a Saturday morning than the normal busy weekday, I decided to take it on since it was an unknown. If I had been hoping for an easier rode home, I was sorely disappointed.

After a decent swim workout, about 1000 yards, my legs were already on the tired side. But there was the promise of fresh chocolate croissants from one of the best places in Cedar Rapids: Croissant du Jour. Well, they are certainly the best places in Eastern Iowa for croissants, as far as I'm concerned.

So I pushed on.

Bever Avenue turned out to be a different sort of hill challenge: shorter, slow climbs, mixed with short downhill spurts and an actual traffic light.

Thankfully, the last stretch was a flat/downhill combo, before it came time to tackle The Hill.

Yes, those are capital letters.

I'm paying The Hill the respect that is due. It's the last hill; the hill home.

I have not made it up to the top since that one time, so long ago that it's now only a vague memory. I have, however, learned to respect it and what it can teach me.

Small goals are my way of conquering it now. Each time, half a driveway more until I stop. The last drive on the right before the first cross street was my best.

Somehow, somewhere, on these few trips to work or workout and back I have learned how to attack. Maybe it was the dreaded spin class where I learned it and the addition of the clips have helped put it to use in the real world, I don't know. I attacked the long, slow hill up Blake a couple of weeks ago, making the first time I made it up without stopping ever.

I did it again, though this time I was aware of what I was doing, up the last portion of The Hill.

And it was an amazing feeling.

I'm down to one stop on The Hill. That's the most that I will make anymore.

Yesterday, I was to that last drive on the right, ready to throw up, when I figured I would try to shift down one more. And to my amazement, there was one more gear to go down.

And one more.

And one more.

And one more still.

If I had been better aware of the gear that I had been in, it was entirely possible that I could have gone on to Ridgemore, and then on to Terry before crossing the buckle in the road that I consider to be my finish line: the line where the road levels out and begins to slope ever so slightly back down to my street.

I guess I'll never know if it could have happened. But it will happen one day. And one day soon.

My breath was hard, my legs jello-y, as I flopped down onto the couch in my living room, begging for my chocolate croissant and the cup of coffee.

The difference between the impossible and the possible lies in a man's determination. ~Tommy Lasorda

Who would have thought?

Who would have thought that my local grocery store follows my blog? I mean, how else can I explain that everything that I wanted was on sale this week. They surely heard my complaints last week and promptly resolved the issue, right?

It seemed that all produce was $.88 cents (each or per pound, didn't matter). Chicken breasts were $1.99 per pound and 99% lean ground turkey was Buy One Get One. Roma tomatoes are slow roasting in the oven (where they will be for the next 6 hours) in prep for a couple of menu items this week. Avocados are ripening on the counter for sandwiches. Joy has returned to my kitchen.

Since Pete worked late a few days this week, I hate cooking for just one, and we had massive amounts of turkey chili left over, some of last weeks items were moved to this week. So while it may not have changed much over last, I feel more inspired with what I have to work with.

Same goes for my work out this week.

Though I'm sure it was sitting back in my subconscious already, I was reminded by Andrea during our swim yesterday, the Pigman is just over three months away. And while I have been better about getting to the gym, I've let my running program go a little lax. Part of it was the lingering cold that I fought for two weeks, true. Part of it has just been my struggle to fit it all in.

So I have decided that I need to start pushing myself even harder. I'm going to start sacrificing the warmth of my bed in the early morning hours to get to the track to run. Sure, I could just do the treadmill, but having been through four 5k runs now, it doesn't seems to be enough to aptly condition my body. The track still offers more shock absorption that the concrete roads that surround my house, and, quite frankly, it's still too cold to start running outside in the dark hours of the morning.

It also seems that the weather has heard my pleas for mercy. The current 10 day forecast shows temperatures at or just above freezing with some sunshine to go with it. At the moment, next Saturday is showing a low of 31 and a high of 42. If that sticks, I may have to bike to the Y for my usual Saturday swim.

And now, in the world of biking and extreme goals for this year....

It has been decided that Pete and I will be participating in the annual Tour of the Scioto River Valley bike ride in May. I'm optioning only the half ride: 50 miles one way. It'll be good prep for both the triathlon and for our planned vacation. I need to get over my dislike of hills and being stuck in the middle of nowhere will force me to complete the ride.

Sign me up, pay the fee, announce it to the world so I can't back out.

"Things that hurt, instruct." ~ Ben Franklin

Training Schedule: Week of February 21st

Since I create the Board on Sundays, it just made more sense to shift the week to Sunday - Saturday. Maybe it'll help me actually make my Sunday work out too.

The menu this week feels uninspired. Maybe it's my irritation with my local grocery store for having nothing even remotely healthy on sale aside from grapes.

I joined a Biggest Loser competition at work a couple of weeks ago. Of course I was sick during the first two weeks of the competition and hadn't really been able to work out. My loss stands at a whopping 1.25 pounds.

Now in the fourth week of competition, my cold is mostly gone and I've decided it's time to light a fire under my motivation. The pot is at $415 for the Biggest Loser to take away with 8 more weeks to go.

And now that I'm getting the energy back to both work out and cook, the sale selection just seems to be blah.

Or maybe my irritation stems from the weather forecast and the additional 2"-5" of snow that will fall by noon tomorrow. Global Warming my ass!!

New swim suits are on their way.

I balked at the $45 price tag of my swim suit when I started on this journey. I figured that I was simply paying for the Speedo name, but with limited resources for swimsuit buying in November in Iowa, I concluded that it was the best deal to be found.

Last spring I came across the website Swimoutlet.com and found fitness suits for as little as $19, so I ordered myself a pretty red one.

It started to shred three months later, and that was with switching back and forth between the pretty new red one and my basic black number.

The original $45 suit has held up for over a year now but is now on its last leg. There's a little more drag in the bottom and I continuously have to pull up the top at the end of each lap. A seam in the back is getting a little threadbare and is making me start to worry that it will soon come undone mid-stroke.

I bit the bullet and ordered the same suit again. Hopefully it'll hold up as well as my original.

I'm getting back up

Nike once said, "Just so it."

So I did.

Sitting on the couch today, still nursing this stupid cold and watching the Olympics, a new Nike commercial came on and asked, "When will you get back up?"

I realized that it's my own fault that I'm still sick. I've been babying this cold when instead, I should have been telling it who's boss.

My biggest mistake was not keeping up with the Board.

"The Board?" you ask.

Yes, The Board:

This week's training schedule

Each week I post my training plan to a dry erase board in my kitchen. It's partially to keep me on track and partially helps my husband keep track of me.

I neglected to write it out last week. It's a mistake I won't make again. I'm taking a firmer hand with the stuffy nose and coughing.

It's time for me to get back up.

~ Life is 10% of what happens to me and 90% of how I react to it. - John Maxwell

Training Schedule: Week of January 25th

I didn't learn my lesson last week. My goals are still ambitious.

So here's the game plan for next week:

Monday:

Body Pump

Tuesday:

30 minute run & Body Flow

Wednesday:

1 hour spin class

Thursday:

25 minute run & Body Pump

Friday:

OFF

Saturday:

1 hour coached swim

Sunday:

Biking of some sort

The Iowa weather is killing me. I'm itching for it to warm up so I can try out the clip in bike shoes that I got for Christmas.

I'm awaiting the falls from my bike as I forget that my feet are actually tethered to the pedals. I want to get them (yes, I'm fairly certain there will be more than one) out of the way so I can recover and get back to training.

Until the thaw begins, my steed shall be a stationary bike...

"Success is determined by how determined you are to succeed." ~Unknown

Back in the saddle again...

So the 12 week count down started on Monday for the Danskin Triathlon. I have a partner in crime this time around: I've convinced my friend Andrea that she too wants to join in the insanity. We will both plunge into the waters of Lake Andrea in Pleasant Prairie, Wisconsin, on Sunday, September 27th.

I used the fact that the she shared the name of the lake in which we would race as a sign that she must join me on this journey. Well, that and some strong "Pete drink" plied during the post-Pigman celebration party.

This past week has been light on the training, a couple of swims to get reacquainted with the feel of the water and a bike and run later on today.

Boy, oh boy, how I had missed the pool! There is nothing like the feel of coolness against your hot cheeks as you glide through the water.

Not having done in swimming since the tri a month ago, I found that I have more confidence now, knowing that I can do a 550 without stopping, knowing that if I dropped my feet, I wouldn't be able to find solid ground for at least another forty feet, without panicking at any point.

This past week has primarily been focused on coming up with a good solid plan for the next eleven weeks. I feel that this was something that I was truly lacking last time around. Obviously it wasn't necessary for successful completion last time.

But this is not last time. Those goals have been met; new ones need to be set.

The swim is longer, 800 yards instead of 550. I am unfazed by that now. The bike is shorter, 12 miles instead of 15.5, and the run is the same. At the rate I completed the last events, my finish time for the Danskin should be 2 hours, 16 minutes. I find that to be wholly unacceptable.

I think the biggest goal that I'm setting for myself (now that it's beyond not drowning & simply finishing), is to run the entire run. Even at a slow 11 minute mile, I may be able to shave 16 minutes off my finish time.

Too accomplish all of this, I dedicated about 70 million hours this past week coming up with a training plan that included three swims, three runs and two bikes a week, along with the eventual addition of strength training. Sure, sure, I could have signed up for an online plan for about $29.99, but I am cheap. And besides, I previewed many and none of them really made any sense to me. They talked in technical terms like VO2max and RPEs and heart rate zones. Yes, I'm positive that this information is beneficial, but unless someone is going to give me a lesson in athletic geek talk, I really don't want to be bothered with it right now: I have training to do.

Goals

Goals.

I have them.

Okay, so clearly I've stated my goals in the past:

1) Complete the Pigman.

2) Not drown while doing doing #1.

3) Raise $1,000 for cancer research.

But I've learned that I'm "Short Term" Girl, the "What's in it for me?" Girl.

The "Show me how I can be better than I already am or I'm going to get bored and lose interest" Girl.

I need something to work towards.

So I've finally figured out a way to measure my training progress. These goals have been hard to come by as I have absolutely nothing to compare my training to. Sure, I can google "Triathlon Training Plans." But most of them assume a level of fitness that I haven't had since my climbing-the-furniture-gymnastic days.

And yes, I'm improving. I've increased my endurance for running and swimming, but how do I know that I'm on track for what I now will refer to as "The Ultimate Three"?

I had asked Ann, my swim coach, if she would help me set these goals for the swimming piece a couple of weeks ago. She proposed her idea at my last lesson. She's not much for tracking yardage, feeling truly that endurance is better. If I can swim for 30 minutes straight, the yardage will follow. I just need to slowly build up my endurance time.

She proved it me on Saturday by making us do our first continuous swim. She set our goal for 10 minutes of straight swimming. The only stopping allowed was to grab or drop our kick board every 50 yards. I'll have to admit, 10 minutes sounded like a long time to someone who hadn't been able to really get passed 37 yards straight.

But what did I have to lose? There were two life guards on duty, my coach, plus three guys in the lap lanes who were told were also "training" for the Pigman. (I'm guess that they're doing the long course in August and not the sprint). I really didn't have to worry about drowning. Only being embarrassed if I had to be rescued.

11 minutes later I had completed 300 yards of continuous swimming.

So back to my goals.

My Vegas vacation is on the horizon. We leave on Friday and won't be back until the following week.

1) Spinning will begin the following week. My first cycling goal will be to make it through my first class. It's all downhill from there.

2) Increase my swimming endurance by 1 minute each week for the next two months. Hopefully at that point, I'll be able to start working on my speed.

3) Continue working on my walk to run program.

***That'll be $10 please.

What I have learned in the past week and a half - Part II

Half a peanut butter sandwich (non-salmonella laced, of course) does not make a good pre-run snack.

I figured that since it was loaded with protein and carbs, it would be a good choice to get me through the run since it was getting close to dinner time.

It did get me through the run. It really didn't sit heavily in my stomach, as I had begun to worry that would in the last couple of bites. The downfall was the peanut butter belches.

Not tasty.

I've also learned to focus on short term goals.

About two weeks ago I got to the two and a half minute run/two and a half minute walk stage in the program I've been following. I felt that I was up for the challenge. Until I read how long the first day was supposed to last:

13 5-minute intervals.

65 minutes. (75 with my warm up and cool down.)

The longest run/walk to date.

Panic!!!

How on earth was I supposed to run for 32 and a half minutes? That's almost forever!

On top of the long program, I have been battling extremely tight and sore calves. No matter how much I stretched, I couldn't seem to get them to loosen up.

So I too a deep breath, stretched, tied on my shoes and got on the treadmill.

20 minutes later, I feel like I'm going to start crying like a little girl, so I give in and cut the run short.

Two days later, I tried again.

I lasted 30 minutes this time.

I tried again.

35.

Okay, so I was making progress, but the tightness in the calves wouldn't go away. And it's still not the 75 minutes that I needed to get through to make it to day 2 of this interval. Frustrated, I made an appointment to see one of my favorite people: the massage therapist.

Not only were my calves tight, but so were my hips. She worked out some knots, reviewed my stretches and then sent me on my way.

Eager to undo all of her hard work, I got onto the treadmill.

30 minutes.

Gaaahhhhhh!!!!

I talked it out with my husband and my mom. I wasn't looking for advice, just simply to vent and maybe get a new perspective. It worked.

So did ibuprofen, tiger balm and sitting in the whirlpool after my swim workouts.

These are three things that I now love.

I stretched this evening while going through my "just got home from work" routine, paying special attention to my hips and calves. I got on the treadmill with only the hope of making it to 40 minutes.

Baby steps.

So what if I don't progress as quickly as the plan says I could? This is why I began training in November and not two months before the triathlon. I have room to take it slow.

I love a challenge, though up until this point, only if it's something that I'm good at right away.

Time for that to change.

So I took the baby steps. I turned on my iPod and the close captioned the TV to a couple of back to back episodes of Scrubs and set out.

My first goal was to make it through the first episode.

Then on through the second.

"Hey, the Daily Show was coming on. What do they have to say about the historic events of the previous day?"

"Oh my! Look at that! "

77 minutes later, I turned off my iPod, and the TV.

And the treadmill.

I defeated the interval.

Thank you

Thank you.

I don't know how it happened, the barrage of emails from friends who seemed to know my struggles and frustrations last week before I had a chance to get it off my chest. Random emails came in from friends giving me words of encouragement, seemingly unrelated to my trials.

Was my doubt so strong that it could be sniffed out?

I swear I shower and use deodorant.

Whatever the cause, I appreciate it.

The words of encouragement helped bolster my sagging spirits and reminded me that this is just as much psychological training as it is physical. If I allow the doubt in, it could take root and undermine my determination. And we all know that is not allowed to happen. Too much is on the line.

Which brings me to my next thank you.

Thank you to those of you who have not only opened your minds to my decision to transform my squishy-couch-potato-self into a triathlete, but to those of you who have opened your wallets as well. Your decision to donate to the American Cancer Society will help continue to hold me accountable. I solemnly swear that I will uphold my end of the bargain come June. Thanks to you, I am already almost half way to my goal of $1000.

And now for the training update.

Swim is back in session!

A new coach has taken over the adult swim lessons. We've lost a member from last session and added another. All three of us are working toward the same goal now, not drowning during the tri. It's comforting to know that I will not be alone in this journey. Other people that I know will be floundering along with me.

Not to make light of the two previous coaches. I learned a lot from them. They helped me get over breathing under water and gave me a solid foundation on which I will continue to build. But this new coach kicked my ass! She introduced a nice combination of drills and laps and kept us swimming for about 50 of the 60 minutes classes.

She kept asking us if we hated her yet.

I think she really didn't want us to, didn't want us to think that she was pushing us too hard.

I did.

Just a little bit.

But it's all for for my own good.

Not to mention that I liked it.

In the Throes of the Winter Blahs

I survived the holidays.

We'll just start there. I survived.

Now I'm not saying the I had a horrible holiday season. Not by a long shot. Sure, the drive to Columbus to visit family was almost ridiculously painful. I think we managed to choose the absolutely worst days possible to make the drive, turning a nine and a half hour drive into 15 hours of white-knuckle steering. It was great spending time with family and catching up with some friends. But the sleeping in.... ah, the sleeping in....

While I was away, I learned my first real hard lesson about how important it is for me to do everything in my power to not miss training days. With the busy holiday season looming closer and closer, I neglected swimming and my newly established running program the last five or six days before hitting the road.

Determined to be good and get back on the horse, I jumped on my parents' treadmill early Christmas Eve morning to continue on with the walk to run program I had started a few weeks earlier. And the confusion set in.

Now, let me tell you that I have never once given any consideration to my preferences of treadmill features. Not even when my husband and I purchased ours several years ago. It was more for him than for myself. You got on it and ran. This made you sweat, which we have already established that, until very recently, I did not enjoy. I had no real intention of using it. At least not then, anyway.

Staring at the controls on my parents' treadmill I tried to find the button to press that would start me at my 3 MPH warm up pace. But it wasn't there. Wait, in fact, I couldn't figure out how to get it started at all. After a couple of minutes of searching, I realized that once you activated the master switch, you had to manually adjust your speed with the little up and down arrows.

Manual. Hmmmm. Okay, I can deal with that. I drive a manual transmission car.

My warm up went okay, but then it was time for me to kick it up to a run.

Do you know that to go from a 20 minute mile to a 12 minute mile, you have to hit that little button at least 20 times? When I say at least 20 times, it's because I've learned that, when you're really tired from running, the little button becomes less responsive as you shift to a lower speed. Maybe I was just beat and my hand-eye coordination was off, but I swear I had to hit the down arrow 50 times to get to an acceptable pace that would keep my from falling off the back of the belt.

20 minutes into my 50 minute workout and I was done.

I was pooped.

Finished.

Bummed.

I hadn't had a really bad work out at this point.

I did get back on the horse. I had a great run the next morning before the Christmas festivities could start. I learned my lesson.

I didn't get anymore treadmill or swim time before we traveled back to Iowa.

I've been actively persuing my running training while sadly neglecting my swimming.

Maybe it's because I feel lost without the structure of my swim lessons (which thankfully start back up in a couple of days). Maybe it's because I have an awesome, one touch speed treadmill waiting for me just across the hall from my bedroom. I don't know. I think I'm just in the throes of the winter blahs.

I need to add spinning into the training mix in the next week or so. I'm trying to figure out how to fit it all in without feeling like I've given my life over to the sport. Or maybe that's the point of this whole exercise.

Running this past Sunday was a good/bad experience.

Physically, it was great. I moved sucessfully to the next step in the program and increased my speed a bit. It was the longest walk/run workout to date. I should have been thrilled with my progress considering that I was the one in gym class to do just about anything to get out of the mile run fitness test.

But I wasn't thrilled.

Doubt set in.

I questioned myself for the first time since setting out on this journey. What the hell am I doing? Am I completely insane? I am not an athlete. I am a squishy couch potato who may very well drown in June.

I pushed through my running alternating between these thoughts and my mantra:

I am pain.

I am endurance.

I am defiance.

I will not fail.

Team ACS Up and Running

Thanks to the coordinators of the Pigman, I've been able to join the American Cancer Society's Team ACS and start my fund raising. Some of you may have noticed the link posted in the right hand corner of the home page. Though it continues to be a work in progress, I've finally gotten around to personalizing it. Now it's time to get the word out. Help me exceed my $1000 goal for cancer research. I ask that you pass out the link to anyone who has been touched by cancer, who may want to help me make a difference. Together we may be able to defeat it one day.

Resurfacing

Okay, okay, so you may all be thinking, “What was all of this hype about? You were all gung ho about this whole triathlon thing a month or so ago. Where the heck have you been?”

Yes, it’s true. I was all gung ho about this triathlon thing. I have just been too consumed by a stupid book series to post updates to my blog. I’ve gone through the series twice now. Hopefully it’s out of my system and my life can return to normal.

Let me just start by saying, I have not given up my training. I have done everything in my power to cling to my schedule throughout the busy holiday week. Seven family members made the 1,000 mile round trip to visit for Thanksgiving. Despite that, I was up at 5:15 to jump into the pool and then hit the elliptical machine.

Walls were broken down in the past couple of weeks.

I have learned that I absolutely adore swimming. Once upon a time, I was a graceful gymnast. That seems like a bazillion lifetimes ago. Somewhere in from the time that I quit gymnastics to now, I became extremely clumsy. I trip while walking for no good reason. Embarrassing? Yes. True, though. Swimming is giving me that graceful feeling back. The fluid motion is exhilarating and soothing at the same time.

Or maybe I love it because I don’t really sweat while swimming.

Okay, now that whole sweat thing is another issue.

Two weeks ago I started layering my work outs: swimming and then the elliptical machine for about an hour and 15 minutes between the two. It’s a bear, but this whole experience is about endurance right? So now I have two questions:

First, what music do you listen to when you work out? I’m afraid that I’m going to get bored with my iPod selection. I need a heavy rhythm to get me through minutes 4-8 of my elliptical work out, when the machine cranks the tension and incline and my legs start to cry out for mercy. Right now I’m switching between the Faint’s “Symptom Finger” and Jakalope’s “Go Away.” Between the rhythm of the music and my lying to my muscles (“90 seconds more and then you can quit.” “It’s an easy interval, why quit now?” “Hey, this is a really good song. You can quit when it’s over.”), I’ve been able to make it all the way through the cool down. Post your suggestions in the comments and maybe I’ll add them to my play list.

The second question I have is, “Why does dripping sweat feel powerful?” Is it just me and my caffeine deprived mind or are there others out there who feel the same as well? Yes, I still find sweating gross, but empowering at the same time. I guess those are just two feelings that will reconcile themselves with time.

Count down to training

"Aren't you the one who said that you don't like to sweat?"my sister-in-law, Angela, said to me today as we discussed my desire to start training for a triathlon.

"Yup. That's me," I replied.

"You know that participating in a triathlon is going to make you sweat, right?" she shot back.

You see, I am not an athlete.

Sure, my parents put me in gymnastics when I was three. It was most likely to keep my from climbing the walls; hoping it would keep me from using the back of the couch a balance beam. It didn't work. In fact, I'm pretty sure it just encouraged me. I stuck with it for seven years until I entered fifth grade. In my infinite ten-year-old wisdom I announced that I wanted to quit gymnastics to become follow my heart: cheerleading. So my parents switched me from gymnastics to tumbling. Sadly, I quickly lost interest and thus ended my Olympic dreams.

There were the couple of years that I played soccer in a rec league. My dad was the coach. Probably the only reason why I actually got to play. Not that he played favorites. He made sure that all the kids got time on the field, no matter how bad they were. My prowess on the field was probably the reason why I never got to take over the coveted goalie position, now matter how much I begged. The parents of the kids that actually had talent were probably frustrated enough.

And I did play baseball in my church's baseball league. I remember the exhilaration of hitting the ball and making it to first base for the very first time. Sadly, it was in the last game of the season. In the last inning.

Which brings me back to the conversation that I was having with my sister-in-law.

I have come to the decision that I am going to participate in the Pigman Triathlon in June.

There's a lot of sweating that's going to happen between now and then.

Training begins November 1st.

T minus 4 days and counting...