Once we get to the race it’s a flurry of activity to get gear unloaded and over to the transition area. I go to put little sister’s pedal back on her bike. You would think that a simple ‘lefty loosey’ ‘righty tighty’ would apply here. I took the pedal off by unscrewing it so it makes logical sense that all I would need to do is screw it back on. Simple physics.
I never took physics.
I couldn’t get out of geometry.
Did you know the definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over again expecting a different result? Well, I went a little insane in those twenty minutes. I kept trying to screw that pedal back on and when it would not go, I started to lose it…internally.
We take a breather and walk over to transition, getting our timing chip along the way. We converse about the pedal in line and the guy behind us who clearly divides his time between working for NASA and the CIA asked if we were having trouble with our bike pedal. HE says he thinks it has to be screwed on in an opposite way than you think it would.
What?
WHAT?
I give him the ‘you don’t know shit’ look and get my timing chip…the girl who hands me the timing chip tells me how the timing chip is supposed to work cause she sees the ‘you don’t know shit’ look and thinks it’s for her. Well no Twilight Tween in short shorts and a side braid with full on make-up at 5:00 in the morning is going to tell me, a seasoned triathlete, what to do with my chip.
I already know.
So I tell her.
In my defense, I was truly concerned about this pedal business not to mention the fact that I was failing miserably at Big Sister and working really hard not to show it…but groundhogs do less damage in a month than I did in that two minute time span.
Once older sister and I get our transition areas set up, we rally over at little sister’s area to readdress the pedal issue. I see little sister standing there like a lost puppy, not setting anything up, with a despondent look on her face and realize if I don’t get this pedal on, she can’t race and I feel the full weight of her disappointment since I’m the one who took the pedal off in the first place.
I go back to screwing and just like before it doesn’t work. Who knew changing location wouldn’t help.
There are six hundred people at this race and we are right in the middle of them.
Three sisters.
All frustrated.
With time running out.
I’m sure I blacked out, time MUST have stopped, because there is no way… No. Way. …we started yelling at each other.
I knew then it was a lost effort. I couldn’t get the pedal on. So, I recon the crowd to find a nice guy who looks normal AND fully trained in bike mechanics. Sadly, there were a pitiful few who met this criteria. One does come over, he does get the pedal on, and he does do it in the opposite way than you would think. In less than five minutes.
Humph.
Little sister gets set up, we walk to the swim start all apologies and high fives and the earth resumes rotating on its axis. Only now I’m exhausted from the morning’s efforts and need a few minutes alone to decompress.
But I’m with six hundred strangers and two sisters. So naturally, I head to the ladies room.
There are some people who get the nervous pee trickle before a race. Older sister gets the nervous something else. Since this is the same woman who gets her life motivating encouragement from Sylvester Stallone movies, I’m not at all surprised to see she is in the stall next to me, her seventh trip in. I would know those feet anywhere.
I routinely seed myself high for the swim portion of a race. It means I get in the water faster even though big hairy men are going to plow over me in some ceremonial type mating ritual. They plow over me…I’m not careful with my elbows. It’s a win win.
Older sister follows me in and as I’m exiting the pool, little sister enters. I like to sprint from the pool to transition as if ESPN is filming the whole thing and featuring me as your everyday working mom and powerhouse. I visualize the short vignettes during filming where I talk about how it all began and the inspiration I was to my sisters causing them to follow me in utter admiration and respect into the sport and at the same time commending me for my raw honesty and humility. It’s a tearful moment that will tug on the viewer’s heartstrings for sure.
The bike portion of the race would have been phenomenal had it not been for the piercing rain slapping me in the face making me feel like that creature from Hellraiser. Older sister is stupid fast on the bike so I expected to see her backside at some point as she passed me.
With it being so cold, I couldn’t feel my feet when I started the run. A hindrance when running. I hobbled along like an epileptic hoping at some point I would feel my feet again. Except the run is through campus, up and down sidewalks and getting up on the sidewalks was more like a crippled hop. Had it not been for that I would have looked like a gazelle. Really.
In sweet cheer filled moments I got to see both sisters during the run. We each finished well and enjoyed the race immensely, except if you’ll remember little sister’s bout of T.H.O.
Here’s how it all shakes out:
Older Sister: Overall Place=206, Age Group Place=4th, Total Time=1:26:17
Me: Overall Place=274, Age Group Place 5th, Total Time=1:33:38
Little Sister: Overall Place 375, Age Group Place 23rd, Total Time=1:45:32
Shazaam
Tuesday, April 26, 2011
Monday, April 18, 2011
Going and Coming
This weekend I had the pleasure of travelling to Oxford, Ohio to do a triathlon with my two sisters. The plan was, I would pick up little sister and meet older sister at a random gas station just outside of Cincinnati and follow her the rest of the way.
Upon picking up little sister, I get out to help her put her bike on my trunk rack. There was no real helping involved because while I put her bike on the rack, she was carrying bag after bag out to the car. Four grocery bags, two luggage bags, a purse, a stack of files, phone and water bottles. (Mind you we are only going to be gone one night…not even twenty four hours.)
I realize as I’m putting her bike on the rack that the two bikes won’t cohesively ‘fit’. After several minutes of arranging, rearranging, taking one bike off to turn and put the other one on only to take it off again and turn it again all while listening to little sister say repeatedly that we could take her car, I finally figure out in MacGyver fashion that by taking off one of her pedals, the bikes will sit side by side. (This is important to remember…I will come back to it.)
Wouldn’t you know that little sister’s husband, (*we’ll affectionately refer to him as Nancy, not to be confused with Rebecca who is older sister’s husband) Nancy, keeps his tools behind several cardboard boxes and a smoker. Because why put your tools where you can get to them when you can obstruct an obstacle course for little sister to navigate in all her patience.
Crisis averted, we find the tool, take off the pedal, get the bikes on and are on our way. One thing you should know about little sister. She brings the life to the party. She also brings some drama…I know, no one who travels with this much luggage could possibly be dramatic. So when she tells a story it goes like this: “There was this squirrel, and the squirrel was walking all funny like it was drunk, it found four or five nuts, none of them looked fit to eat, and then climbed up this giant tree even though it kept tripping and stuff and nearly fell off, it even threw a few of the nuts in his frustration to get up the tree, and then tore into those nuts like it was hopped up on crack.” When in reality a squirrel found a nut, climbed a tree and ate it. It is in this manner that she proceeds to make work phone calls and recount the bike rack episode.
We have a lovely drive to meet older sister and once joined with her travel into the heart of Miami of Ohio’s campus to our hotel. Older sister ismajorly a tiny bit obsessive when it comes to getting her race packets. Which means we will be at packet pick-up when it opens. Older sister also likes to drive the bike course to get familiar with it. Now, here’s what you should know about older sister. She got the best genes in the family, and is really quite good at everything she tries. Want to know the one thing she didn’t get?
A sense of direction.
I mean couldn’t find her way out of a paper bag if there was one road, going one way with directional arrows. Not. Kidding.
So naturally, she hands me the map of the bike course calling me a gifted navigator (I’m paraphrasing) and asks me to direct her.
Want to know what I didn’t bring to the race, because clearly there wasn’t room for it in the car, my x-ray vision. I’m in the backseat and can’t see shit. Yet I’m the one these two rely on to direct them through God’s country. Two missed turns and one near miss later we are finally on our way to dinner.
After a delicious dinner, with excellent company and lots of laughs, we retire to bed for what we think is early to rest for an early morning and long day ahead. I learned that sharing a room for the night with my older sister and little sister is like being with two fourteen year old boys in a locker room. I also learned that little sister sleeps with a night light, older sister has umpteen different notifications on her phone and trying to sleep in a hotel on the center of a college campus is impossible.
**I will share the actual day of the race in another post…to be continued. **
Mother Nature thought she would add her own challenges by pouring cold rain on us race day. This means we were wet and cold (stress COLD) upon leaving. My dad was thoughtful enough to call all three of us to wish us congratulations and praise. This is our third year doing this race, third year leaving the parking garage to head home, third year I’m following older sister to the highway. Which way does older sister turn to leave?
Left.
What’s left you ask?
The race we just left. Meaning: the road is blocked. Meaning: older sister will have to do a U-turn to go the right way.
What do I do?
Follow her like a chump.
It’s natural to assume and even expected that when you’re doing eighty on the highway, the items strapped to your car are going to shift. Every five minutes little sister is craning her neck to look out the back window to ‘check’ the bikes…her bike…to ensure they aren’t going to come off. Just like a contagious yawn, she gets nervous which makes me nervous. I realize the only way to calm her nerves is to pull over so she can check them.
Here is what she says to me when I pull into yet another random gas station, “while you check that I’m going in to get a coffee.” Did I mention it was wet, windy and cold? Did I mention that I have on wet socks, wet underwear and have a wet head? Did I not just listen to a twenty minute diatribe of little sister’s T.H.O., that she shared not only with me, but older sister, Nancy, and even our Mom, on the phone, who then promptly hung up and called her bridge club to tell them?
It is then that I’m reminded of that insurance commercial where one person does something nice to someone else who then pays it forward and so on. So I think, I go out to help little sister, and Ted the Farmer sees me, who then goes home and helps his neighbor fix his tractor, that neighbor helps his OTHER neighbor plow his field, and THAT neighbor goes on to feed a family of six with his extra bounty.
Clearly I’d be a heroine and regarded as such for years to come. But if I don’t go out, that will never happen and I don’t want that on my head. So I face the harsh elements to ensure the bikes…her bike…are strapped on properly while she goes in to a toasty warm gas station for a mocha jo.
Back on the road, we make it safely home, bikes and all. Exchange a tight hug and well wishes goodbye and I enjoy a relaxing afternoon hugging and kissing the face off my sweet little boy. A great weekend all in all.
Stay tuned for part two of this saga…Actual Race Day.
Upon picking up little sister, I get out to help her put her bike on my trunk rack. There was no real helping involved because while I put her bike on the rack, she was carrying bag after bag out to the car. Four grocery bags, two luggage bags, a purse, a stack of files, phone and water bottles. (Mind you we are only going to be gone one night…not even twenty four hours.)
I realize as I’m putting her bike on the rack that the two bikes won’t cohesively ‘fit’. After several minutes of arranging, rearranging, taking one bike off to turn and put the other one on only to take it off again and turn it again all while listening to little sister say repeatedly that we could take her car, I finally figure out in MacGyver fashion that by taking off one of her pedals, the bikes will sit side by side. (This is important to remember…I will come back to it.)
Wouldn’t you know that little sister’s husband, (*we’ll affectionately refer to him as Nancy, not to be confused with Rebecca who is older sister’s husband) Nancy, keeps his tools behind several cardboard boxes and a smoker. Because why put your tools where you can get to them when you can obstruct an obstacle course for little sister to navigate in all her patience.
Crisis averted, we find the tool, take off the pedal, get the bikes on and are on our way. One thing you should know about little sister. She brings the life to the party. She also brings some drama…I know, no one who travels with this much luggage could possibly be dramatic. So when she tells a story it goes like this: “There was this squirrel, and the squirrel was walking all funny like it was drunk, it found four or five nuts, none of them looked fit to eat, and then climbed up this giant tree even though it kept tripping and stuff and nearly fell off, it even threw a few of the nuts in his frustration to get up the tree, and then tore into those nuts like it was hopped up on crack.” When in reality a squirrel found a nut, climbed a tree and ate it. It is in this manner that she proceeds to make work phone calls and recount the bike rack episode.
We have a lovely drive to meet older sister and once joined with her travel into the heart of Miami of Ohio’s campus to our hotel. Older sister is
A sense of direction.
I mean couldn’t find her way out of a paper bag if there was one road, going one way with directional arrows. Not. Kidding.
So naturally, she hands me the map of the bike course calling me a gifted navigator (I’m paraphrasing) and asks me to direct her.
Want to know what I didn’t bring to the race, because clearly there wasn’t room for it in the car, my x-ray vision. I’m in the backseat and can’t see shit. Yet I’m the one these two rely on to direct them through God’s country. Two missed turns and one near miss later we are finally on our way to dinner.
After a delicious dinner, with excellent company and lots of laughs, we retire to bed for what we think is early to rest for an early morning and long day ahead. I learned that sharing a room for the night with my older sister and little sister is like being with two fourteen year old boys in a locker room. I also learned that little sister sleeps with a night light, older sister has umpteen different notifications on her phone and trying to sleep in a hotel on the center of a college campus is impossible.
**I will share the actual day of the race in another post…to be continued. **
Mother Nature thought she would add her own challenges by pouring cold rain on us race day. This means we were wet and cold (stress COLD) upon leaving. My dad was thoughtful enough to call all three of us to wish us congratulations and praise. This is our third year doing this race, third year leaving the parking garage to head home, third year I’m following older sister to the highway. Which way does older sister turn to leave?
Left.
What’s left you ask?
The race we just left. Meaning: the road is blocked. Meaning: older sister will have to do a U-turn to go the right way.
What do I do?
Follow her like a chump.
It’s natural to assume and even expected that when you’re doing eighty on the highway, the items strapped to your car are going to shift. Every five minutes little sister is craning her neck to look out the back window to ‘check’ the bikes…her bike…to ensure they aren’t going to come off. Just like a contagious yawn, she gets nervous which makes me nervous. I realize the only way to calm her nerves is to pull over so she can check them.
Here is what she says to me when I pull into yet another random gas station, “while you check that I’m going in to get a coffee.” Did I mention it was wet, windy and cold? Did I mention that I have on wet socks, wet underwear and have a wet head? Did I not just listen to a twenty minute diatribe of little sister’s T.H.O., that she shared not only with me, but older sister, Nancy, and even our Mom, on the phone, who then promptly hung up and called her bridge club to tell them?
It is then that I’m reminded of that insurance commercial where one person does something nice to someone else who then pays it forward and so on. So I think, I go out to help little sister, and Ted the Farmer sees me, who then goes home and helps his neighbor fix his tractor, that neighbor helps his OTHER neighbor plow his field, and THAT neighbor goes on to feed a family of six with his extra bounty.
Clearly I’d be a heroine and regarded as such for years to come. But if I don’t go out, that will never happen and I don’t want that on my head. So I face the harsh elements to ensure the bikes…her bike…are strapped on properly while she goes in to a toasty warm gas station for a mocha jo.
Back on the road, we make it safely home, bikes and all. Exchange a tight hug and well wishes goodbye and I enjoy a relaxing afternoon hugging and kissing the face off my sweet little boy. A great weekend all in all.
Stay tuned for part two of this saga…Actual Race Day.
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Monday, April 11, 2011
Dilly Dallying
So, one of the men I live with (*to protect his privacy I will affectionately refer to him as Dorothy*) decided to take his casper self out into the wild without sunscreen. This is unfortunate since as I mentioned he is casper white and is always casper white regardless of the time of year. Naturally, as is usually the case when Dorothy goes out without sunscreen, he got a sun burn.
While this is not unusual or really anything of special note, the sun burn has now gotten in the way of my everyday life.
Particularly this morning.
**Sidebar**
I know that with the annual sun burn I'm going to hear the usual complaints of discomfort which I graciously endure because Dorothy's complaints now sound oddly like the teacher from the Peanuts comics. I'm nothing if not a giver.
Mornings in our household are not always 'together'. We each have our role and to the best of our sleep deprived ability, we each try to fulfill our role. However, one person's ability to fulfill their role directly affects the other person's ability to get out the door in enough time to fight traffic, navigate the parking garage and get to work. To accommodate our tight morning schedule, I take an abbreviated shower. Abbreviated = way shorter than I would like and no dilly dally.
**Sidebar**
It is my hope that the good example I set by taking an abbreviated shower will rub off on Dorothy so he will also limit shower time in exchange for faster get out of the house time for me. Either Dorothy doesn't notice this good example I'm setting or thinks my shorter shower equals longer shower time for him. I may have to reconsider my approach on this one.
THIS morning, Dorothy decided to 'burn' the sting out of his sun burn by taking a TWENTY minute shower. Twenty minute shower = lots of dilly and even more dally.
It also equals me being late to work.
While this is not unusual or really anything of special note, the sun burn has now gotten in the way of my everyday life.
Particularly this morning.
**Sidebar**
I know that with the annual sun burn I'm going to hear the usual complaints of discomfort which I graciously endure because Dorothy's complaints now sound oddly like the teacher from the Peanuts comics. I'm nothing if not a giver.
Mornings in our household are not always 'together'. We each have our role and to the best of our sleep deprived ability, we each try to fulfill our role. However, one person's ability to fulfill their role directly affects the other person's ability to get out the door in enough time to fight traffic, navigate the parking garage and get to work. To accommodate our tight morning schedule, I take an abbreviated shower. Abbreviated = way shorter than I would like and no dilly dally.
**Sidebar**
It is my hope that the good example I set by taking an abbreviated shower will rub off on Dorothy so he will also limit shower time in exchange for faster get out of the house time for me. Either Dorothy doesn't notice this good example I'm setting or thinks my shorter shower equals longer shower time for him. I may have to reconsider my approach on this one.
THIS morning, Dorothy decided to 'burn' the sting out of his sun burn by taking a TWENTY minute shower. Twenty minute shower = lots of dilly and even more dally.
It also equals me being late to work.
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