Weekend Away

Lately I have been feeling stressed out and strung out, even more so than my usual self (because despite my desire to be chilled and relax, it's simply not my character).  There is not one thing to blame, but rather an amalgamation of many things, coupled with my failure to step back and breathe.

We were doing Dancer's Pose, my favorite pose, in hot yoga class a few weeks ago and I kept falling out.  It was the strangest thing because normally I can sleep in this pose.  But, even as the rest of the class was ready to move on, I planted both feet on the floor, closed my eyes, took a second to re-center, and when I opened my eyes, I had my balance back.

I've been feeling like I've lost my balance in life so I attempted a similar approach and started taking moments to close my eyes.  But, it only takes a few seconds of standing/sitting with my eyes shut before I start hearing stuff like:
"Mom, I am going potty!"
"I am done now!"
"I said....I am done now!"
"Mom, can you come wipe my butt??"
"Hayden! I can help you wipe your butt!"
"Mom, Brenna is touching my butt!"

So I took a more exaggerated approach and went to Sedona.
And, here I am, typing in our hotel room.  And I promise that I am using this desk:

And not this table, conveniently located in the bathroom.  Although as someone who works from home and ardent about efficiency, I think this table is borderline brilliant.

One would assume that having lived in Arizona my entire life, I would have already been to Sedona.  But this was actually a first time for me.  I accepted the idea when my husband suggested it, but I would have accepted to escape anywhere -- even in a hotel down the street.  However, I enjoyed Sedona more than I expected, and it was the perfect weekend reprieve.

When we arrived into town, we could not find our intended hiking trail, but I convinced David that we did not need a trail.  So, we found parking off the side of the road and descended down some rock.

David was weary of hiking without a trail and it turns out he was right, because after 10 minutes of hiking down and over rock, we were stuck at a creek with no crossing and plenty of little scratches and scrapes to show for it.

So we did what naturally any couple would do it that situation.

We made-out and took selfies.

We also went wine tasting, ate brownie ice cream sundaes, and of course I went running.

Running has always been my go-to version of "closing my eyes."  Lately, it has been causing more stress than relieving stress, though.  Part of this is because I have not done speed work in....oh.....6 months?   It's a tad hard to see myself not running nor feeling like my former self.  But I know that if you don't use it, you lose it, and that it just does not magically come back.  So being hard on myself does not help, and, if anything, it is ruining the one thing in my life that makes my world a happy place - no matter what.

When I stepped outside my hotel room in Sedona, I tried to also step outside the fact that I wish I was running faster. I found myself seeking out the steepest hills, and running on roads named, "Ridge" and "High View" and "Cloud High."  It has been many months since a double-digit run for me and I was hoping to see that "10" on my Garmin when I returned to my hotel at my allocated time....but alas, all the vertical running slowed me down even more, and I was only at 9.87.  

But I ran up mountains and saw gorgeous views that were normally reserved for folks like George Cloony (he has a house there, don't think I wasn't searching out of the corner of my eye!)  I felt free.  I felt like me.

And that is why I run.

One wonderful weekend did not return me completely recovered, rejuvenated, and ready to battle the world.  But, I do feel refreshed, re-centered and ready to battle Monday.

I think I have my balance back.

All you need is love?

It’s been a rough rebound after my triathlon debacle last weekend. Although I know I was sick, I can’t brush off the feeling of giving it my best on my bike, yet barely able to break 19mph.

After a few more days of recovery and hot yoga, I returned to the saddle Friday afternoon. I rode for an hour, hilly roads, in 95-degree weather and swirling winds, and ended with a short 15-minute run. Afterwards, I looked at my Garmin was mildly pleased I covered 22 miles during that time. But, it didn't give me the redemption that was expecting.

On Saturday, I met my tri-group for an open water swim. We followed that with a bike ride/ run. Again, my performances were pleasing but didn't bring me the motivation that seems to have melted away during my illness.

There is one last local triathlon in five days before everyone surrenders to the heat. I want to do it. Or more so, I want to want to do it. Or maybe even more so, I want to do it well.

I feel like I have a lot of bad races. I am scared of having yet another.

But, on the other hand, I love triathlons and the triathlon community, so should it even matter if I do well? I feel like it has been ages since I have PR’ed, but that does not mean that I have not had fun during all my attempts.

At the end of the day, I love to race. So I don’t know why I can’t commit and bring myself to fill out the entry form. If I don’t do it soon, I lose the opportunity all together.

In addition to my running, biking and swimming, I was able to spend weekend with my favorite people. On Saturday, David and I went out for our anniversary. We rarely go out so this was a special treat. I had quite a few drinks.

On Sunday, I laced up my running shoes and left for a run – I had no idea where I was going or how far I would go…I didn’t bring music or water…I just ran! After about a mile, I thought maybe I had a hangover. And I realized that it was very hot. But I just kept running and it turned out to be glorious run – I ran all over the city – and eventually found myself at my mom’s house. She gave me a hug even though I was all sweaty.

I love my family.
I love to run.
I love to race.


I should just do it and have fun.  I have nothing to lose.

Skirt Chaser, a Family Affair

I have been looking forward to this race ever since I acquired my favorite, sun-catching, sparkling, awesome running skirt:

Aside from having the best running skirt, I had two goals for this race:

1) Not to let any boys catch me (girls have a 3 minute head start)

2) To run faster than last year.

Technically I achieved both goals - no boy caught me and my time was ONE SECOND faster than last year.

My initial response was disappointment.  Really, one second?  Out of ALL the 5Ks I have run in the past year, I was expecting something closer to 19 minutes.  However, I don't remember any of those 5Ks knocking me down as much as this one did.  I think it has to do with the 2pm start time - running fast with breakfast and lunch in my  belly just does not bode with my digestive system.  I won't get into the unpleasant details, but they were...well, unpleasant.

I think considering the mess that became my stomach, I actually did okay. And really, a 19:26, although 22 seconds slower than my last 5K time, falls within my acceptable range.  It was hot.  There were hills.  I had a stomach ache.

But, I must also say, I actually didn't feel like I was running slow.  I felt pretty solid both mentally and physically.  I think for me to run significantly better than this, I would need to run more than 40 miles a week (and do track workouts).  My problem is if I do this, I will just whine about my lack of progress on the bike and in the pool.  I do fear that in an attempt to give attention to everything, I may not be giving enough attention to anything.  I joined a tri-team in an effort to make sense to a sport that I  do not completely understand - but I will discuss that at another time.

Let's get back to the race.

I arrived early enough to get my ample warm up (three miles) on the nearby trails.  I played for a little too long - ended up running 4.5 miles, and arriving on the start line with less than three minutes to spare.  When I stopped, I realized my bib was flapping in the wind, I was hot, I was thirsty and I had lost my car key.   But when you stand with your toe on the start line, the adrenaline does a good job erasing your mind of such annoyances.

The first mile felt comfortably fast.  We ran past my dad so I told my friend to smile:

I love this picture because no one is smiling but us.  It is a running rule that I have had for a long time now - if you see a camera, pose for that camera.

3 minutes after the women started, the boys started.  After all the fast and kinda fast boys went, boys pushing double yellow jogging strollers got to start.  I can understand while attempting to recover from a such a brutal handicap, it's hard to remember the golden running rule:

While David and the kids were weaving their way through walking women in tutus, I found myself in fourth place. But somewhere in Mile 2, I was passed.  And then passed again.  I was okay with this and the goal was just not to let anyone else pass me. I also managed to stay about five seconds from the 5th place female for the rest of the race.  

The course is an out-and-back, which includes a substantial hill.  However, in a race, I barely even notice this hill.  

I have no doubt that David noticed this hill, though.  I have pushed the jogging stroller up this hill many, many times...it is a workout.   But what goes up, must come down and 100 pounds of stroller can gain a lot of momentum.  David is on the left side here so I suspect he is passing people:

And he remembered to pose for the camera.  So did Hayden.

Even though Brenna was a bit moody and refused to wear shoes, we had a really fun time.  I love when I can incorporate my running life and my family life into one wonderful day.  It is the best of the both worlds - which is my world!! - and for that, I am so so incredibly lucky.

The Bitter-Sweet Routine

So first, an update -
The kids no longer take a nap.
It was a looming unavoidable predicament, but I was hoping praying to extend the nap for as long as possible, preferably until kindergarten.   Unfortunately, I cannot force someone to take a nap.  Trust me, I tried. I can tell them to take a nap, or yell at them to take a nap, or beg them to take a nap - but ultimately, that is as far as my power takes me.

The extended day + incessant  bickering (+ overtired kids x 2) does not equal a pleasant afternoon.  On any given day, sometime around 3:30pm, Hayden is running around the house in tears, waving his Thomas the Train above his head.  A naked Brenna chases him, taunting, "my train!  my train!"  She catches him by the shirt and his shirt collar chokes him.  He falls to the ground and Brenna grabs the train.  "My train!" she shrieks one last time for emphasis before she runs away.  Hayden gets up and chases her while crying, "Mommy, Mommy!" He grabs her to the ground and Brenna starts crying, "Mommy! Mommy!"

I intervene and I take the train. Hayden will ask me to dry his eyes and blow his nose.  Brenna will ask for a kiss and a hug.  After I oblige, I can breathe a few breaths before Hayden starts playing with a dinosaur and Brenna starts chanting, "my dinosaur!  my dinosaur!"

After that, it's usually a Lightening McQueen car, a book, a ball, a random toy that was found under the couch, a water cup, an identical water cup, and then the lid to the third identical water cup.

Here they are fighting over a cheap, unopened loaf of sale-bread from the grocery store:

If I am buying white bread, it means I was desperately trying to get out of the store before Round 3.

The new routine, derived from my lovely mother, was to separate the kids two nights each week.  Not only to give me a break, but them a break as well.  You know the saying, Too Much of a Good Thing........

Each kid has a designated night at grandma's house.  She honks her horn at 4pm, usually right before the fight over the second water cup.  I rush out a crying kid and a plastic bag of clean clothing.

And then its over.  Completely over.
There is no screaming, yelling or crying.
Just one silent child with a dry tear on their cheek.
And I simply say, "So what do you want to do?"

Activities with just one kid is like training for a 5k instead of a marathon.  There is no stopping us - we can do anything!  The world is our playground and we don't even need a double cart.

Brenna usually rejects all my fun offerings (shopping, the park, taking a walk, etc).  But she is always satisfied with the suggestion of eating.

Hayden is more open-minded but his activity of choice is always the park.  His night is also running club night.

I know I usually don't run in the evenings, but I've made an exception to meet my best running friend.  Her name is Michelle.  I bring David and Hayden:

And she brings her husband and son.   

It seemed sad to have half the stroller empty.  That is what makes this new routine bitter-sweet....even though the world sometimes seems to be meant for only one kid, everything in our life is meant for two.  Two toddler beds, two little tooth brushes, two sets of dinner plates, two car seats in the car............

And of course, the kids miss each other.
And of course, I miss my missing kid.

But as they say, absence makes the heart grow fonder - and it's only a few hours a week.

Plus, we manage to find ways to fill in the gaps.

Feeling Rather Beat Up.

I have not swam for a week but assuming I am still suffering from my unique swimming injury, I have more annoying aches allowing me to create quite a list.  All of them, however, are self-inflected, so I am not sure I am entitled to complain?

I shall complain anyway.

The first one was a bike accident.
It is not new news that I don't check the weather reports before embarking on a bike ride. I mean, it's Arizona.  Our weather is hot and sunny 99% of the time.

But last Tuesday, the forecast supposedly called for rain.  A lot of rain.
I discovered this factoid when I was 12 miles away from home and the rain was falling so hard that it felt like tiny needles hitting my skin.  Needless to say, I don't have a lot of experience cycling on slippery roads.  I gripped by handlebars tightly, kept my head down and gave it 100% of undivided concentration.

I was 2 miles away from home when the rain finally stopped.  I let out a huge sigh of relief, relaxed my cramped hands, and made a right hand turn.  Or, tried to make a right hand turn.  The bike did turn- onto its side.

My first thought as I hit the ground was, "OH MY GOSH, CAN I RUN??"
I did an immediate check of the knees and ankles.  Everything felt normal and I was left with just some road rash and oozy wounds, like this:

But as the day moved into the evening, my neck and back started to hurt.  I guess I tensed up when I fell and accrued some whiplash.  Despite seeing a chiropractor, by the next day, I was unable to turn my head.
Brenna was unforgiving and insisted to clinging to my neck.  We couldn't even survive a trip to the grocery store, we had to be shuffled around in a shopping cart.

(and I realize this is not the first time I have posted myself squished in a shopping cart)















I started to feel better by the weekend, right in time to take a trip to San Francisco for a wedding.  David and I enjoyed our two toddler-free nights to the fullest.  We did everything you would expect me to do.... run a lot (and get lost a little) and eat and drink.

and drink, again.

You know you are having a really fun time when you end up buying purple, sparkly converse shoes.

Although - I don't have regret buying the shoes.  I love the shoes. And a girl can never have too many pairs of purple shoes (at least according to Brenna).

But I may regret running up so many hills....so many really, really big hills.

The opportunity to go out run for as long as I want doesn't happen very often.  For the first hour, I felt fantastic. I frolicked through the city and pranced up the hills with glee.  I was giddy when I found the Golden State Bridge.

But then, I had to turn around.
And all those hills were still there.  Only they seemed a lot bigger.  And my legs felt a lot heavier.

So, with my cycling wounds still fresh and my whiplash still lingering, I got on the airplane to return home with legs overflowing with lactic acid.
Thank goodness I had brought my bright pink compression socks.
Thank goodness they match my purple shoes.

I have spent my time resting and hoping that everything repairs itself for the race this weekend.  I swore this time around that I would practice my transitions - but I have not.   I don't feel ready so I plan to do what I always do - survive the swim, mess up in transitions, take a bike ride and then run too fast the first mile.  I get a strange pleasure in the predictability.

He did it again!

It's been an entire year since this celebration, but last night we got to celebrate again!  CFA test results were posted a few days ago and David was one of the 42% of test takers to pass.  I knew he was going to pass so finding out officially was just a technicality.  

To celebrate, we went out for sushi!  We went to a small, dark, very crowded and loud restaurant and feasted on sushi rolls.  The kids and David had noodle dishes and I had a massive plate of sashimi.

We tried to get a family photo.

Getting a good photo of both kids is always a challenge, but I don't think the dark lighting did us any justice either.

The sushi was a great idea - 

until this morning.  It was 91 degrees at 5am and very humid.

Here is the thing about sweating:

Your body always wants to have equal amounts of salt and water.  If want to be able to run in the summer and not die of thirst, they key is to have a low-salt diet.  Less salt in your diet means you will need less water.

Unfortunately, sushi dripping in soy sauce, is quite salty.

And during my run, I was quite thirsty.

This may have been the most difficult run of the summer.  I managed 11.5 miles @ 7:47 so it wasn't horrible, it was just horribly uncomfortable.  When I got home, I had to hang my clothing up to dry - I probably could have squeezed enough water from them to fill the tub enough for a salt bath.  And mind you, I run in very little clothing. 

But this is just the beginning - August is when the true sweat-fest begins.

Three Rare Occurrences of the Week

To prevent disappointment, let me promptly clarify that in this situation, "rare" does not imply exciting or eventful.  It was a rather boring week that provided very little posting material and photo-worthy moments.

But it should be documented that Hayden spent his first FULL night sleeping in his big boy bed.  He has napped in his bed before but usually his underhanded request to sleep in his big boy bed is an attempt to actually not sleep at all.

If I agree to his "request", he will immediately lay on his bed and say, "Good night, mom."

He will close his eyes and begin to fake snore.

After about 20 seconds, he will open one eye to see if I left the room yet.

Of course, I am always still standing right there.  

Perhaps this is my fault from decorating his room with a plethora of toys.  There is a ballpit, a slide and a train table, to name off the larger items.   I find it to be a double-sided situation because I want him to play in his room - during the day. 

I don't know how you teach a three year old to resist the temptation of a train table at 2am outside of moments like this one - those created by luck:

It also deserves to be noted that I swam three days this week.

Yes, that is rare.  In fact, it may be a first.  

I was delighted to discover that the pool in which I assumed was yards, is actually a metered-pool.  This makes me substantially less slow...albeit, still slow.

I've played around with my stroke and determined that all the following combinations yield the same amount of slowness:

- bi-lateral breathing, every third stroke

- every fourth breath, right side

- every fourth breath, left side

- every second breath, right side

- every second breath, left side

 Now I am out of options and using my secret weapon last resort (aka, Olympic swimmer friend turned teacher).

The final thing worth mentioning is that David and I went out on a date.

I admit, it's a bit sad, but these date-nights are few and far between (perhaps 4 a year?)  But you have to be grateful for what you can get - I cannot complain.

The kids had no problem complaining, though.

First, Hayden brought over his sandals and announced he would be joining us:

And without missing a minute, Brenna demanded to go as well:

At that point, we understood that we were not going to get our token date photo of us canoodling and staring passionately into each other's eyes.   David put down Brenna and we dashed out the door as both kids corrupted in high-pitched, ear-shredding screams.

It was hard to feel sorry for them since they were about to go out for Mexican food with their grandparents - and I am sure it was better than the "Mexican food" that I prepare for them by hiding cauliflower puree  under the cheese of a quesadilla,  or by adding finely diced kale to their taco meat.

Rumor has it they had a very fun night and barely missed us.

Selfishness, Selflessness and Swimming

I witnessed a conversation yesterday where someone commented that runners were selfish.  Without delving into too much back story, here is the gist of the situation:
   - woman has small kids
   - husband discovers running
   - husband feels entitled to run as much as he desires and is gone from his family numerous nights per week and on weekends.

Most of my friends are runners so obviously I do not agree with the blanket statement, "runners are selfish."   But, I understand the sentiment.

Running is a selfish sport.
Although perhaps on a micro-level other people benefit (i.e, it puts me in a better mood so I am more enjoyable to be around), ultimately running is only about one person: me.

I think it's okay to have a selfish hobby.
I think most hobbies are selfish.
I think we are worth doing things that bring us pleasure and fulfillment.  But the question is - at what expense?

Although I was not really part of this conversation, it is essentially what this entire blog is about:  balancing a selfish hobby with one of the most selfless things in life - motherhood.

Clearly I believe, and hopefully demonstrate, that it can be done.

But, I think the selfishness comes with entitlement.
You know how they say it takes an entire village to raise a child?
It also takes an entire village to create an athlete.
As grateful as I am to have running in my life, it would mean nothing if I did not have my behind-the-scene team.  These people would move mountains so that I could run.

I have given them a shout out before, but it's nearly a year later so I think it's time to do it again.

There is my husband who pumps up my bike tires for me every night before a ride.  I know, I know...he has dreamy eyes.


There is my mom, who watches them when I race.  We also refer to her as "G-Ma".


There is my dad, who is the best cheerleader/photographer.  And he is always coming over so that I can run, or bike.  Oh yeah, or work...I do that, too.


And of course there are my kids.  I couldn't be who I am without them.
They are always willing to sit the jogging stroller...especially if there are cheerios.
They don't mind it if I am all sweaty when I give them a hug.
And they go to the gym-daycare so that I can swim. We went for my one "pre-triathlon" token swim today - as expected, the kids were delighted.
And even more so when we ate at the cafe afterwards.
I know some toddlers are picky eaters, but mine will always eat the $4 special. Today they gobbled up pesto!


Once again, they showed-off their classy and refined etiquette by using forks:


Regality is just a bite away - we just need to work on keeping our mouth closed.

A Brand New Brenna

One thing you should know about Brenna is that she likes be in control.

For example:  She likes bananas.  For snack, I may offer her a banana.  However, simply for the fact that I chose the banana, she will refuse it and demand something else.

I let her make all the small decisions in her life - what she wears, what bedtime stories we read, what cartoon we watch in the morning, etc.  I also let her decide how to style her hair.

As her hair has grown, I have begged her to pull it back or at least choose a barrette so that I can clip the bangs out of her face.  Between my mother and myself, Brenna has barrettes in every color, shape and size. 
Large (possibly obnoxious) pink bow?  Check.
Small barely noticeable butterfly?  Check.
Sparkles?  Check.
Rhinestones?  Check.

A lot of them she selected herself at the store.  She carried them around like precious gold and shrieked when she had to relinquish them for two seconds so the cashier could scan  them.  And then as soon as we got home, they were dropped, abandoned and forgotten.

Even if I distracted her enough to pull back her hair, once she noticed that it was pulled back against her will, she simply pulled it out.

So for the most part, Brenna's hair was always in her face.

She didn't seem to mind but it did cause some issues.

For example, their pre-school had a tea party.  All the kids were instructed to wear their "Sunday Best."  Then they sat at fold-out card tables, lined with a table cloth, and ate copious amounts of unapproved sugar. As you can see by that nicely folded, unused napkin, my kids fail at fine dining -

And as you can see, everything that went into Brenna's mouth also went into her hair:


The obvious solution was to cut her bangs.
To be honest, I am not sure why I did not think of this many weeks ago.

With a few clips of her scissors that she bought 30 years ago, my mother gave Brenna the only hair cut she knows how to do - uneven bangs.  I had the same hair cut when I was kid.

But just like that, Brenna could see out of both eyes.
And perhaps life looks better when you can see clearly because ever since, its as if she turned over a new leaf.

Some days, she has ZERO tantrums.  It almost scares me.

Just one example: she used to always throw a fit when getting confined into her car seat. She would scream and cry and wiggle and squirm until she was able to get an arm out. I would often have to pull over.


We haven't had to pull over once since the hair cut.


Coincidence? Perhaps.
Publishing this post can be the jinxing catalyst that flings us three steps back.

But at the very least she takes better photos because now you can always see her smile.

Pre-hair cut "Daddy-fun-time":


Post-hair cut "Daddy-fun-time":


She would never admit it, but she is thankful that we made this decision. And as she will learn over and over and over again, mom is usually right.

St Patricks Day 5K Race Report

I ran a small 5K on St Patricks' day (hence the green font, lets call it "festive").  I was lured by the nearly non-existent price tag and free breakfast.  I sandwiched it between a 4 mile run with my friends, and a 4 mile run "cool down" to make it my weekly long run.


The very exciting thing about this race was that David ran it as well - and to make an unusual event even more noteworthy, he ran it with the kids.  It was our first family race!


Awkward pose with the sun in our eyes:



Much better, except the kids look miserable:



At first, I longingly wished I was pushing the stroller. It was a fleeting feeling though since the course was hilly and the air was windy. I know I have said it before but I will say it again - the only thing harder than pushing that stroller up a hill is pushing the stroller in the wind.  It just doesn't move!


There was not any competition at the race, which was disappointing. I like racing, and I would have been satisfied with a woman or man or even a dog. I won but without anyone chasing me so it was more like a tempo run.  It was still fun though and good training for upcoming events.


I did wear a Garmin and took the occasional glance at my avg pace. Mile 1 was 6:19. Then there was a very steep hill to the turn around, slowing my average pace to 6:40. But, what goes up must come down so I was back down to 6:20 by Mile 2. Crossed the finish line with an average pace of 6:19 - final time, 19:37.


After my win, I turned around to go find David.




He looked miserable but the kids looked delighted! I made this collage to help savor the moment.  I may have gotten a little carried away with the Snagit Editor.  It brings me back to my childhood days when I always made collages as gifts for my mom.  Of course back then I used magazine clippings and Elmer glues and they probably looked better.



Afterwards we feasted on the post-race buffet of eggs, yogurt, fruit, green jello and pomegranate smoothies.


And then David took a well-deserved nap until one of Brenna's tantrums woke him up.  We will talk about that some more perhaps another day.

Places with Pickles

I've heard a lot of people's opinions on pickles throughout my life - it seems most people are not crazy about sweet pickles or bread-and-butter pickles.  Personally, those are my two favorites.  However, I have never heard anyone complain about the salty delight of a dill pickle.

My kids included.

The massive dill pickles that they got a the Renaissance Festival was perhaps the highlight of the excursion.


My favorite part was that David broke away from his studying to accompany us.  We don't get enough family photos, in my opinion.


Also, I liked the exuberant amount of princess items for sale - however, I couldn't get past the price tags. (Even if I could, I am pretty sure David wouldn't).

The pickles though were only $1 each!

Besides from eating pickles, we listened to a variety of music and looked at interesting animals, like this llama:


The kids have a book called Is Your Momma a Llama so it was exciting to show them a real llama, even if it is super ugly. Brenna rode it, even though it certainly is paltry compared to a pony.


I tried to get Hayden to ride an elephant with me. He became excited at the sight of the elephants, but that turned into extreme angst at the merest mention of mounting them.
He no longer wanted to look at them or be anywhere within the sight of them.

I didn't push him - elephants are big and it seemed reasonable to be scared.

I did push him though on outing later during the week - to a train park. It was similar to this train park in that it was a park with a train. Despite his recent experience, he didn't seem to sense any familiarity. His reaction to the train, even just the sound of it, was exactly like his reaction to the elephant.

I knew that if I could get him on the train he would enjoy it. I picked him up and held him trembling in my arms as we waited in line. It was crowded though so the train filled up. We had to wait in line longer.

Since by biceps started to burn, we sat down and I finally calmed him down.


It was short-lived though because the train arrived back.
The people got off.
And we got on.

I found it slightly ironic that he was wearing a Thomas shirt (that he picked out) and carrying a Thomas book (that he insisted to bring) yet was terrified at the suggestion that this train was like Thomas.

It took about 90 seconds of movement for him to calm down. I am sure all the passengers at this point where relieved to be spared from the screaming. I did feel badly on their behalf.


And then what did we do?
We ate pickles!




Sometimes we just have to push ourselves outside of our comfort zones with the hopes that eventually it will get easier.

After a day of recovery and an extra day of wallowing, I got back on my bike. I did a 23-mile ride (Pecos road loop, with a two side loops)averaging almost 21 mph. I guess I needed to remind myself that I can ride my bike. I did notice though that to maintain that speed, I had to focus. If my mind started to wander, my legs started to move slower.

This was my biggest mistake in my race - I lost focus.
I concentrated on my faulty water bottle, my messy GU, my sticky fingers, the kink in my neck, the loose gravel on the road....for the last 10 miles, cycling was the last thing on my mind.
I should have brushed off the petty nuisances.
This was only my 4th time racing my bike and I think it resulted in a valuable lesson - keep your focus.