The one with the race report (Arcadia Tri)

The good news is I’m officially a triathlete again. And actually, I claimed my title back a month earlier than I’d planned.  I knew after I had Decker, that I wanted to do RedMan this year because they’re hosting the national championships for 2012, which only happens every 3 years – and- the exiting part about that is they expand the race to a two day event and include all four distances.  So it gives me a chance to do a sprint distance triathlon in September and there are all kinds of good things about that.  Later in the year means more time to prepare, cooler weather, etc.  Well, due to some complicated circumstances regarding Josie abandoning me- I offered to step into her Olympic distance slot because she’d already registered and I hadn't yet.  Here’s the thing, I've never done an Olympic distance triathlon. I’ve only ever done half that distance, not only that, but it’s been 3 full years and two babies ago. 

So a couple of weeks ago I decided I needed to toss Arcadia sprint distance triathlon onto my calendar because its early-to-mid-August date would help me gauge my ability level.  What I learned was that I have a lot of work to do! It was a reality check, hard core reality check. 

There were days when I really thought I was getting enough training. Enough to finish, not enough to be competitive really, but enough to say, hey I did it.  That fantastical thought went poof 8 minutes into the race. 
I love race morning.  I love the nervousness in the pit of my stomach that says, today is the day! You're going to do it! Checking over everything to make sure I have what I need to race.  Taking that first deep breath after setting up transition. The breath that says- this is the oxygen that's going to fill my lungs and fuel my blood. The warm up jog that questions the legs- what do you have today? Did you bring it?  And, that last stretch before wading out into the water that awakens the arms and releases the tension sleeping between the muscles.

Here’s the tricky thing. In black and white- on paper, it seemed everything was going according to plan.  My goal to finish at Arcadia was 1:40 and my finish time was 1:36.  I was allowing 15 minutes for my swim time, and I was in transition at 13:+.  What these numbers don’t relay is how hard I had to try to get myself to the finish line!

Lets talk about the swim.  I swim in a pool and there are obviously differences that you have to account for.  In a pool, you don’t have to sight because you can see a line at the bottom but in a lake you can’t follow any lines even if they were there because the water is so dark.  In a pool people don’t climb all over you and kick you in the face or throw water into your mouth when you turn your head to take a breath.  The water in a lake full of swimmers is quite turbulent and your body bobs around unpredictably, not the smooth, quietness of a pool where you’re pretty much the only one slicing through the water.  There are no walls to push off in a lake, which give you a burst of speed and a rest for your arms.  I know these things because I’ve done open water swims, but knowing them doesn’t change the fact that they’re still different from the pool and they still suck.  8 minutes in, I’d been kicked, climbed on and swam off course, I swallowed a disturbing amount of lake Arcadia and ended up on my back after the first buoy.  This is when I had my first mental argument with myself about what I can and can’t do. 

The pessimist in me, for lack of a better name, said your arms are too fatigued. You can’t go on.

While the realist in me said- you’ve swam longer than 8 minutes! You can swim longer than 30! What are you doing on your back? Turn over now!

The latter was a much louder voice with much more passion, so I turned over.  Two strokes and I was on my back again. Nope. Can’t.

Connie. Get your ass back in the air and swim, dammit!
Ok.

I made it to shore after the third time, but it was a very long and heated inner-debate! And it seemed like I wasn’t going anywhere. 

Out of the water, up the beach through the sand and up the hill to transition.  Mike and the boys watched as I was trying to get beach sand off my feet because I could just imagine all the blisters I would get by basically “sanding” the skin off my feet between every toe if I didn’t get them clean before I ran!

I spent about a minute and a half in transition- about 60 seconds too long.  But once I got on my bike I felt the tension ease and my body sighed with relief.  “This I can do.” It said to me. My legs took over and we climbed and descended for six miles out and six miles back.  I did my best to burn up everything I had on the bike.  I didn’t care to “save anything for the run” there is no, “maybe my run would have been faster if” because my run is slow and there’s no way around it. I might as well put some distance under my wheels and make at least one leg of the triathlon worth something.  It wasn’t my best time and it wasn’t my fastest, but I think I gave those hills what I had.

My running legs were hiding somewhere and didn’t return until halfway through the run.  I couldn’t smooth it out, my arms and legs couldn’t synch up and my stomach was twisting as I bounced around and pounded my feet into the ground.  I smiled because knew this was it though. I knew I was almost done and I just had to finish this last thing before I could call it a wrap.  I got to see my three boys cheering for me every time I came back near the transition/finish area.  Reed’s big eyes searching for mommy as Mike tried to point him in the right direction, until finally he found me – but then I was running off again!

I knew as I ran that I was going to take him through the finish line with me.  That had to be my favorite part of the whole race.  I came up the hill towards the finish line and reached my arms out, I said “I want Reed!” so Mike set him down and Reed and I went running, hand in hand, through the big blue arch.  The lucky little guy even received a medal for his participation!

I’m happy to be able to say I’m a triathlete once again, I’m also happy that I got that reality check for the Olympic distance race coming up.  I’ve only got a few weeks to prepare, but I think this is going to go down as one of my greater accomplishments –athletically speaking. 

The one about taking compliments

The other day at the gym, a guy was waiting in a hallway and casually glanced over at me and said, “Are you a model?” I laughed at the absurdity and said, “No. Nope, I’m not” and he said, “Well you sure are beautiful enough to be one.” I know this sounds like a pick up line. You’re probably picturing him cocking one eyebrow and giving the line with a half-smile, but that’s not at all how it happened. Somehow he made it sound like a genuine inquiry.

Then again while we were in Park City, Mike and I took a little break and left the boys with my mom and Jessie so we could stroll main street. A woman was walking the nearly deserted streets behind us with her young daughter and said to me, “Excuse me, you dropped this” and handed me a paper I’d put in my back pocket earlier. Then suddenly flustered, as if it were a shock to her she said, “wow, you’re really pretty” I smiled and thanked her, but immediately tried to figure out why the heck she would say that. What compels a person to voice such an opinion? I guess I just don’t have that in me. On the occasion that I see even the most attractive male, I would never feel obligated to tell him so. Especially not just your average good-looking guy. I figure if someone is attractive, they already know it. If I tell them so, it only sounds like a pick up line. So, I really don’t get it.

I used to get it a lot more when I was a younger lady and it’s a surprise every time. I don’t feel that my looks warrant such a strong vocal reaction from people. I’ve had a very conflicting history when it comes to my self confidence. At the tender age of 21, I had a boyfriend who tore me down and told me that I was plain. I was average, and nothing more. Nothing special or exotic about my looks -which is why I needed to be so appreciative to have such a “gorgeous boyfriend”. I would never do better and I should be grateful that a girl like me landed a guy like him. You’re told something enough times that you start to believe it. Of course it wasn’t just him- if that were the only source of the negative image then I’d just label him Grade A asshole and move on. I did that anyway but the point is, there were other periods in life when I felt the same way- as a middle schooler my mom tried to convince me that the other girls were just jealous and the guys were just afraid of rejection. I was almost never asked to dances all the way up through high school. On the complete opposite of the spectrum I had a guy follow me off a bus in Anchorage to tell me “I’m sorry, but I just had to tell you that you are STUNNING”. Stunning? Really? And you just had to? I wanted to ask him if he’d lived under a rock his whole life? No? Just Alaska. Same thing. I thanked him and he was on his way, embarrassed. How is a girl supposed to react when she goes from “plain and average looking” to being chased around the airport by a Weber State basketball player with his camera phone pointed at me yelling “Just one picture! I just have to prove to everyone that I saw the most beautiful TSA agent EVER!”

Good grief, no wonder my self-image is such a mess! I can’t get a consistent report!

Anyway- the point is, I’m flattered by the compliments- they’re just hard for me to take seriously. I want to make excuses for the person’s state of mind!

The one about our family summer vacation

Our vacation was an exciting fiasco. That is literally the best way to describe it. We were gone 7 nights and never stayed in one place long enough to unpack anything. We flew to Salt Lake and stayed 2 nights at the Still’s house, 3 nights in Park City at the Deer Valley St Regis, 2 nights in Green River WY at my sister’s house (a 3 hour drive north) and then a night in a hotel in Riverton Wy (an additional 3 hour drive further north). Sunday we drove all the way back from Riverton to Salt Lake to fly back home. The Still’s home was a very comfortable accommodation for our family. The basement is set up with two bedrooms and a bathroom, plus toys in the living area. Their backyard is cozy, quiet and kid friendly so we spent most of the time relaxing out there. They were actually out of town when we got there so we settled in and spent some quality time visiting with our good friend Clark. Reed became very attached and has asked for Clark so many times since we’ve been home. I’m considering sending him as an unaccompanied minor to visit Clark for a week next summer. *grin*

I also got to spend a little time with my dear friend, Joni. Any visit with her is too short.  Especially compared to the hours we were so used to getting back when we worked together.  How can we even begin to catch up?  Reed and Decker are such attention hogs, too!  Seems like all we can talk about is the boys.  I'm so happy for her and her life - her kids are creating beautiful families and we keep saying how happy we are for each other that we both have all we wanted in life.

My dear Ella is now 5 years old and a beautiful girl with a sweet spirit. Exactly 5 years ago in August I started to nanny for the Stills when Ella was 3 months old. I watched her in my free time until we moved to OKC when she was eleven months old. Her brother Emerson is a clown and I could see a lot of flags going off, signaling similarities in Reed’s personality. The hotel in Deer Valley was booked on points from Mike’s credit card and then upgraded to a suite so we had a nice roomy space. That was a place I could see us staying for a week or two! The fun little thing about the hotel was that it was set up high on the mountain side and could only be accessed by “Funicular”. Which is basically a fancy tram car that glides up the mountain on a set of tracks. We had plans of getting out for family hikes and a little hiking date for just Mike and me when my mom and sister came up for a short stay. Those plans dissipated when Mike threw himself into a rocky ravine on the warm up lap for a cross race Tuesday afternoon.

The call I got was from Mike but it didn’t sound like him at all. He sounded distant and distracted when he told me he wasn’t going to be able to race and was headed to the ER for stitches. I had just prepared the kids and myself for a fun afternoon of spectating. Decker in the hiking backpack, Reed at my side with his cowbell, and snacks for everyone. Instead, I changed gears, called down for the car and loaded the boys up to go find the Urgent Care clinic Mike was taken to. Reed was not dampened by his daddy’s injured state and continued to terrorize the clinic’s facilities and staff. Once he noticed daddy’s “Owies” he fixated on them and kept demanding that, “Mommy kiss it better!” He wasn’t really taking no for an answer, but I didn’t want my lips anywhere near all that road rash. I tried to fake it, but eventually had to give him a firm “no” and distract his attention. The process of getting Mike stitched up and on his way was entirely too long so the boys and I made a Walmart run to pick up Mike’s antibiotic and fortunately found a nice little lawn mower for Reed to play with when we got back to the clinic. He was extremely happy with the $5.88 purchase.

We had s’mores each evening, with traditional fire-toasted marshmallows. It was picture perfect, sitting together as a family next to the fire looking up at the mountain. Luckily for Mike and me, we passed our 30 day meal plan challenge and were able to partake in the s’mores, guilt free.

We left Park City after a nice lunch with Monte, Merry and Jeremy and headed for Green River. Our days were lazy- nowhere we needed to be at any specific time. We soaked up the moments with my family and enjoyed every bit of it. Reed started learning to answer questions like, “what do cows eat? What do frogs eat? What do horses eat?” (birds, bears, and monkeys, too) He’s a jokester and likes to switch them around so you’ll say, “Noooo! Cow’s don’t eat bugs!”

On our way to Riverton on Saturday, we got pulled over for speeding in Lander. Reed was excited about a policeman visiting our car on the side of the road and went into broken-record-mode about the police man. He wouldn’t let it go so I had to tell him, “No, Reed! You don’t get to be a policeman! You can’t have a job where people shoot at you!” So we started teaching him jobs. Monte’s job is architect. Jeremy’s job is attorney. Daddy’s job is Engineer. He also likes to recite, “Fireman drives Firetruck and Policeman drives Police Car.” My favorite party trick is, “Reed, what does an attorney drive?” Reed’s answer is “BMW” (which is what Jeremy drives *grin*) My co-workers ate that one up when I took him to the office the other day.

We all enjoyed the wedding and reception. Dancing and visiting and hugging old friends and loved ones. Nicki wrote on her facebook afterwards about how she didn’t realized she missed me so much. I agree. Distance makes the heart forgetful- makes a friendship seem like it doesn’t need to be such a priority. Then suddenly, being together again it feels so easy and so right. Like we are the friends that we always were and no time had passed. Being apart magnifies our differences and makes it seem odd that we were ever such close friends, but spending just one evening together reminds us of all our similarities, our past together.

Driving back to Salt Lake from Riverton on Sunday was rough, and then adding the plane ride home, too. We let Reed play at Sugarhouse Park again and then went to visit Clark at his house before leaving for the airport. For some reason we had our itinerary confused and Mike thought we were on a 6 o’clock flight, but when I checked it I realized we still had two more hours left of our trip! We headed straight back to the Still’s. Monte sure sweetened the afternoon with a salty lime margarita- I was feeling pretty relaxed when we hit the airport terminal. Both boys snoozed all the way home on the 8 o’clock flight.

The one about the name change

I gave it six months and I still look at his face and think, you’re not a Bryce, you’re a Decker (or something) but you’re not a Bryce.  I wrote about this before he was born, about the fact that I woke up one day in a state of panic over the name we’d chosen.  I just didn’t want to call him Bryce.  The problem was, I got a lot of push-back from Mike and our families. Everyone else loved the name Bryce and had all gotten so attached to it over the previous couple of months.  I had to wonder what my deal was, why couldn’t I just love it?  I don’t have an answer.  I just know that I wasn’t feeling it and shouldn’t my opinion count just a smidge more than anyone else’s?  Carrying him inside my body for 9 months and pushing him out should give me at least 60% stake in the naming rights.  In the end, I couldn’t come up with anything better that Mike and I could agree on- so in the week or two before he was born, I announced that we would be turning back to Bryce.  

I never was in love with the name, but Mike was always 100% on it and that counted for something to me.  Plus, adding Decker as a middle name had a cooler ring to it and gave it an edge.  Here we are a full six and a half months later and I just want to do something about it before too much time passes.  I’ve actually been calling him Bryce Decker or Little Decker quite frequently because I think Decker makes a good nickname and I figured that would give me a chance to try it out.   I like it. He seems like a bit of a clown, so easily amused and quick to smile.  I think he even looks like a Decker, with his bright blue eyes and his duck fluff hair.

I was nervous to tell our families.  I had been given enough grief about it before he was even born!  What were the reactions going to be now, after it’d been six month outside the womb! I know you all might think I’m weird. However, I’m the mom.  You got to name your kids, so let me name mine.  And rename them. And rename them. *grin* Okay, I think Mike might have a limited amount of name-change-coupons made up for me to use.  I’ve had a few friends that have exclaimed how much they love the switch to Decker and I’m the kind of girl who really needs a few big noisy supporters.  While we were on vacation we stayed at the Still’s house the first couple of nights and I told Monte that I really wanted to make the switch to Decker.  He said, Okay. Let’s do it. We’ll call him Decker starting now.  I thought, yeah! Why am I so worried about what other people will say or think? I’m thankful for Monte’s bold encouragement.

Reed isn’t having any problem with it. He’s heard me calling his little brother “Bryce Decker” and “lil Decker” over the past few months, so it’s no surprise to him when we refer to him that way all the time now.  He goes back and forth between the names, but I’m sure he’ll easily learn that his brother is going by Decker.