I’ve been on the Michael Phelps diet.  It was all anyone was talking about  during the Olympics… so I figured, “Hey, the old bod could use a boost, a jolt to the system and what the hey, I’m on holidays, after all.  Relaxed.  What better time to implement a new diet regimen?”  I mean, look at the guy… who wouldn’t want to have a body like Michael Phelps?  The female equivalent, of course.

And what better place to implement new diet plan than at the beach.  Rehoboth Beach, Delaware… home to Grotto’s Pizza.  And more Grotto’s Pizza.  Thrasher’s Fries.  Nicola’s nicobolis.  Wings To Go.  Chicken Ed’s.  And, well, more Grotto’s.  Oh, and The Fractured Prune… home-made, hand-dipped, fresh-to-order donuts!  Did I mention Rehoboth beach is home to Grotto’s Pizza?

Oh, yes.  I embraced this new diet with my heart and soul… all 12,000 calories a day of it.  Fast tracking to cut biceps, ripped abs and nothing but sinew for thighs.

And what do I have to show for two weeks of consumption a la Michael Phelps?  In short… Fattened.  Ass.

Upon further research, I see I overlooked the small fact that I must also simultaneously implement the 5-hour-a-day, six-day-a-week exercise regimen.  Shit…

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If you let it, the mind can run away to the ends of fantasy and back again. Particularly when confronted with a challenge you just don’t bloody well feel up for… such as, when ruminating on a tough UPHILL triathlon only hours away… and then lo and behold, in the deep, dark yet scarily vivid recesses of your mind, yer being abandoned on a high mountain trail, alone, lost, with no food or water, stalked by wolves and cougars, ultimately to end up an early supper for a frustrated mother bear and her eager little cubs.

And there’s where our story begins….

I did get out of the pool last. I did end up alone, the last racer on the bike trail… slowly pedalling if I wasn’t trudging, pushing my bike up the steep, narrow inclines, alone with my thoughts, sometimes singing- and yes, as I sang tunes loudly hoping that, if my presence alone was not enough to scare off predatory wildlife, then my complete lack of musicality would be- but always working to appreciate the sounds of the birds , the butterflies and the burbling of the creek in the narrow valley below, and reminding myself it’s really not so bad. Things can always be worse, after all. And… I took the short option trail, which brought me out to the festive crowds cheering, the first person to take to the trails on foot.

And so, I ran. Again the short course. Which brought me into the finish….

FIRST!!!

OK, so I know that out of 12 individual participants in this inaugural race, I was the only person to take the available short cut. I was also one of only two women to participate. The other woman hauled ass, my friend. She won the event- the long EXTREME event, I might add, beating the guys handily. For her, this was merely a fun event in an otherwise gruelling triathlon circuit over the summer.

Ahhhh, if only…..

Anyways, it was a great day. A great event. And many volunteers in the way of our trusty local Lions Club. They were organizing, offering support and several opportunities for water and oranges.

It was great. And, yes, if it happens, I will, in fact, participate again next year. LONG COURSE!

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Today is Canada Day. The Canadians July 4th equivalent, minus the monster fireworks, the apple pie, the jingo-ism and by and large, the historic significance.

But what we will have… is a Triathlon. Yes, a mere two weeks after the last, three events- swimming, cycling and running- in, today, an effort to earn our festive national celebration. Apparently trying to make up for our nation’s lack of any real defining historic moments such as, say, the signing of The Declaration of Independence. Ahhh…. proud to be Canadian.

Anyways, the difference between this event and the last, other than the festive national celebration to follow, is that this is The Inaugural. The Very First. And last but not least, after the swim. Entirely. Uphill.

After a lovely 650 metres in our lovely pool, we make our way, another 12 kms, by mountain bike and then by foot, up… up… up… to, and around, our local ski hill. Before we get the t-shirt. The burger. The beer.

The problem is this is the first time for this event in our area. Really, this should take the pressure off- reinforce the notion of just plain old wholesome, athletic FUN… but I find myself distracted, considering irrationally all of the possible worst case scenarios of this, a very first time event.

OK… so my fear is the biggest issue will be the lack of volunteers. After all, any event such as this is only as good as it’s team of generous and unpaid support! Which means, few, if any, water stations on the course. Also, too few playing a supporting role on the course to ensure all participants are alive and accounted for… and as I am fairly confident I will be one of the last out of the pool and most definitely will lag behind the pack on my shitty, old, kluged and bungee’d, mountain bike, therefore, assuming I have not taken the wrong turn at the fork in the pitifully unmarked trail, bringing me in last to start the run… where I will be parched- thanks to the lack of water stations on course… and I will, as the last participant on the trail, have the ironic misfortune of coming across an annoyed and hungry black bear and her cubs- bothered at having watched other meal opportunities sprint nimbly by- relieved to finally see an available, not to mention adequately fleshy, meal within easy swiping distance. Meanwhile, I have nothing left in the tank. Not to run. Not to climb. Not even to pee. And I will be dragged through the dense bush to my violent and bloody demise. While my family enjoys the music, hotdogs and beer garden.

As I lay here on my comfy couch despondent relaxing before the big event, the wiggly jiggly flesh butterflies are all I can feel of my stomach…. Despite telling myself repeatedly this is a FUN event, just finishing is the goal- times bedamned- I still have that nervous, nauseous tummy and I am wishing I had just never signed us up!

I just want to enjoy this holiday and the fun without the fucking strings! Bottom line at this point, committed and unable, no-unwilling- to back out… Yeah, I just want to finish, alright… ALIVE!

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Interesting thing about a busy week. It’s overwhelming. OK… so not funny in the sense of ‘ha ha’. Just funny in the sense that last week was pretty relaxed, without Husband around, we all sort of took it easy and enjoyed a relatively stress-free week of a little school work and kids games and activities.

This week… the shit essentially hits the fan. Husband returns with a full plate, not the least of which are two days of golf back to back. I’ve got my little newspaper to get out before this long weekend as well as a campspot to set up and reserve for our family and friends for this weekend- two days before we will actually be there. It’s called beating the long-weekend campground rush. And of course, 15 days of school module to squeeze into three. Oh, and another triathlon to prepare for early next week. Hmmmm………

So the motto between us is simply. Just. Do. It. It sounds strangely familiar… as though I’ve heard it somewhere before……

Anyhow, on my way to Calgary on Sunday I managed to catch a talk radio show and the guest was a psychic, life coach, crazy lady but she did say one thing that stuck in my brain.

We spend far too much time thinking about the things we have to do. The things we want to do. Too much time thinking…. Always thinking…. A lot of energy. Thinking. Perhaps rather than stewing. Ruminating. Contemplating. Instead of persistently thinking about the life we want perhaps actually Do SOMETHING to actually achieve it. We should exert a little of that precious time and precious energy spent in our heads, actually doing.

Think less. Do more. And so far, so good. Last night as I was about to get ready for a typical evening of dwelling on what I needed to do, what had to be done to accomplish this weeks demands, instead, for a change, I just did something. Instead of laying upon my couch, thinking, becoming increasingly overwhelmed and anxious, I got a good start on the newspaper. Instead of thinking about doing. I just did.

Just Do It.  What a concept!  Somebody should really do something with that….

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Well…. Monday. We’ve returned from Calgary where we left dear Filipes at the airport- his annual trip to the office. In Delaware. This means I will be alone. All week. With miscreants. Alone. All week. Oh, God. Somebody help me…. can anyone hear me…? Oh, God. It’s only Monday. Not even 24 hours… unghhh…

I digress…. We left Calgary this morning. The city is a treat. Really. As I’ve mentioned before, the streets are lined with gold and the SUV’s encrusted in diamonds. My beat up old Odyssey looks downright woodsy amongst the Hummers, Pimped out Dodge Ram Crew Cabs, Lexuses (Lexus’… Lexii…?), Beemers, Audis, Volvos…. whatever. They’re all shiny new and you can hear each and every one of them belching happy and satisfied the alphabet on $1.40/litre. I do love to dip my toe in the excess even if only for a couple of hours. Then… back to the sticks.

Oh, my… ANYWAYS… we left right after our event yesterday to get to Calgary so that Husband could catch early a.m flight to Philadelphia.

But, back to event.

I came an amazing 152nd overall in the Sprint Course. Out of over a thousand!! What a day. Oh yes. What a feeling of accomplishment. We can’t wait for next year!

Oh……. Did I say over a thousand? Hmmm. I meant… 158.  There’s always next year….

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Well… and so it shall be done. By husband - if he is feeling better. By Sally. And, lastly, by me. The Wasa Lake Triathlon. It has been a very short two months of training and as I have complained, the weather has been incredibly discouraging. It’s been tough getting motivated for this event this spring.

I’m feeling like Beasley may not be as prepared as he should be.  We’re all sort of expecting that the natural activity of his days, in addition to the thousands of laps he swims twice a week in swimteam, will get him through.  Not to mention just a spring-y, lithe little nine year old body.  Ohhhhh… to be spring-y and lithe.  Immediately bouncing back from any physical challenge.  The distances are short for his age group.  I’m just hoping, regardless of where he falls in the pack, that he enjoys himself.

God knows that’s pretty much all I get out of participating in this event, given that  I usually end up in the bottom 10 percent.  ‘Just happy to have done it.’  I do the breast stroke for crying out loud.  ‘Cuz I freak out a little swimming open water….

I guess we’re feeling ready-ish. And despite the row of little suns shown in the forecast over the next several days, I wake up to rain and wind… much like the past couple of weeks.

While I suppose we can all suck it up for the events… we will also be camping. We love camping. We have a new, handy-dandy tent trailer. And I suspect we will love camping even more. However, some nice weather would be a real welcome treat on this particular weekend.

I don’t think I have ever fixated on the weather as much… ever… as I have these past many, many weeks. It’s either been REALLY bad- totally uncharacteristic for our region- or I am getting old.

Old people around here love bitching about the weather. Mind you, there’s certainly been a lot to bitch about.

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While it may not matter a wit when I proclaim it to my adoring Beast… or to myself… in an effort to experience the weight of some real accountability, I will proclaim it here.

I am running today.

Before I lay my crazy, lazy-assed, pathetic head on the pillow this night, I will have gone running.

Mark. My. Words.

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In keeping with my rant against Mother Nature I woke up this morning, looked out the window, squeezed my eyes shut real tight, raised my fist to the heavens and went, “%&*#$%^@#&%@#$%&!!!!!”

“Aaaaaaaaaaaaargh!”

I promised The Beast last night that we would get out for a run this morning and I didn’t care if it was snowing.  She looked at me with a dreamy gaze of complete worship as though to say, “Oh, thank you, my dear mummy.  I can’t wait and I know, this time, you’ll come through for me.  Because I just love you so much and despite your previous many disappointments I can see the commitment in your eyes and I just love you so much and am sure that this time.  This time.  This time.  You will be true to your word and we will go out for a run.  Cuz you know I love our runs soooooo much.  Almost as much as I love you, dear mummy.”

Of course, when I made this promise to my perfect, adorable, lovely doggie, I knew She wouldn’t actually bring snow and that my word was a pretty easy one to keep.

Well, while She did not deliver snow to this here Western Slope, she did bring cold, rain and wind.

Triathlon is two months and counting. Doggie staring at me with expectation from doggie bed.  I can see it in her eyes.  The eternal forgiveness.  Like she knows I’m gonna pee on her hopes and dreams yet again.  But she adores me anyway.
Ugh!  This is one helluva grudge.

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Somebody push me.  Please.

I said last night I would head out early, before I settled in with Sally, to go for a run.  It is -20!

Why is it so friggin’ cold.  Irony:  too cold for humans to do friggin’ anything but not cold enough to kill off all thost wretched, nasty little pine bark beetles that are sucking the life out of our Rocky Mountain forests and converting them to match sticks!

Oh, bugger… I’m off.

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It is damn cold out today!! Over the past nine days, we’ve had but one warm-ish day and luckily that was Sunday, when the kids had to hang out on the mountain all day for ski races.
Yesterday. Back into the deep freeze. It’s the kind of weather that you just want to stay in. Stay home. Stay warm. I would have done just that last night if I hadn’t been otherwise committed!!
Despite this bitter-friggin’-ness, I got the beast out for her walk. 40 minutes in the blistering chill. Frosty hairs. Hers and mine.
We went with a neighbor and her lab/pitbull-X pup. Willow. She’s a doll. Pisses my HoneyBeast off to no end.
I do believe it’s good for her.

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