Just Sitting (with Chips)

The “to do” things have been bringing me down lately, with triathlons taking up every weekend and exercise or some other activity weighing on any time away from work. Tyler is forever fine with whatever comes, but I get sick of doing too much all of the time. We just need a night off.

I’ll cook something - because oddly I like to cook even when I’m done with the world. I’m thinking about some sort of kabob. And some ranch-grilled red potatoes. Tyler will make a smoothie of some sort - we love those. Maybe some ice cream for dessert?

And then you know what else is on my list of to dos? RELAX. That’s it. So sad that as you grow up you have to tell yourself to do things like that. I have been looking forward to this night for three weeks.

We might play Speed. We might start reading Mockingjay - the third book in the entrancing Hunger Games series (we read nearly all of book one on our honeymoon - that’s how good it is). We might just lay on the floor and watch T.V. all night. Honestly, I’d be good with any of those. I can hardly wait.

I think I’m going to be a crazy person when I’m a mom. Judging from my nerves running amuck yesterday just with Tyler, my poor kids don’t have a chance for the calm, cool, collected type. 

Let me tell you something about Tyler. He is amazing. I’ve never seen him do poorly at anything. He’s just one of those people who can DO things. Like pretty much anything. But yesterday he did something neither of us have ever done before. A half ironman. Do you know what that is? 1.2-mile swim, 56-mile bike ride, 13.1-mile run. One right after the other. It is so hard.

Oh, and did I mention triathons are hard? And one that will take about six hours - well, there’s a real possibility of it ending badly. I spent the morning in the transition area, pacing and jumpy, waiting for him to finish each leg. He swam plenty fast, but to me it seemed like it would never end. When he was done I knew at least he wouldn’t drown. Then the bike. Crashes, flat tires, fatigue – all possible. But three hours later he came sailing in. A little wind worn, but doing alright.

Then the run. So hard after what he’d been through. I ran the last half of it with him, and I tried to think of every story I know to keep him focused on something besides his overworked body. That always helps me. But stories were not enough. He was so ready for the finish line.

He’s not too stoked about his time, but I just remind him he’s one of very few people in the world who could ever do what he just did. I couldn’t if it saved my life. I’m pretty impressed. And glad to be able to breath again.

A Year of It

Is it weird that I’m excited to be “poor”? Tyler officially started grad school last week – he’s going to make one heck of a finance guy. I’m so proud of him. Such a smart dude. But school costs A LOT of money. Tuition, books, tests and parking passes – what’s $100 when you times that by 20, again by 10 and still need more? We’re both pretty adverse to the loan scenario, which means, we’re going to be legitimately lacking in financial frivolities for the next year.

And I’m excited. I’m looking forward to clipping coupons and shopping for deals. I want to make a meal that, according to the instructions, costs $1.12 per serving (my sister, Lindsey, rocks at this). I’m excited for our dates of snowman building and hot chocolate. I’m excited to make those memories. I’ll admit, for brief moments I get nervous and I miss my single shop-a-holic days just for a second. But mostly, I just feel blessed.

Someday maybe we’ll have money and we’ll go to Europe and we’ll buy a Lexus (IS 250 in dark blue, thank you). Maybe. But if we do or if we don’t, I’m excited to look back on these days and realize how great it was – just the two of us doing our best to be good and love each other and work hard and play harder. We are “those poor newlywed college students.” The happy ones. In a way, it’s kind of like a fairytale.

Triathlons are Hard

Some people ask me why I pay to swim, bike, run/torture myself. Well, have you ever crossed the finish line? You realize that for months you trained, for months you sacrificed hours and sleep to push it just a little bit harder. And then on race day, you give it everything you have. I mean, you have to dig deep. Your mind has to say "go faster" when your body is pleading with you to stop. You conquered mountains, you conquered freezing water and a kick to the face, you conquered that big girl (in a nice way) who kept passing you. More than anything, you conquered yourself. You did it.

So, I finished. A mile swim, a 24-mile bike ride, a 6-mile run. I took third in an age group of four, but I was just four minutes back from the winner. 3 hours, 17 minutes. My goal was 3:30. The hardest part was the bike - like seven straight miles of hills and headwind.

Afterwards we got a shake and hamburgers from Dairy Keen. I would have eaten two shakes - no remorse.

Today I just can not concentrate for the life of me. I'm a little antsy. My stomach's a little tied up. I'm accomplishing little and doing much. You know what that means? Race day's ahead. Oh gosh, oh gosh, oh gosh. I'm a tiny bit nervous, I guess. It's my first Olympic triathlon. I've done sprints for three years now. And they're tough. But I knew I had to roll with the big guns once in my life. And Tyler (my husband) wasn't about to let me quit.

Oh I tried. We trained all summer, then five days before the race (he's doing a half ironman), shady dealings by the race director and it turns out our triathlon was nothing at all. So, I though, perfect. Now I don't have to go through with it. Nope, wrong. Ty convinced me - almost begged me - to finish what I started. Fine! (he's right, I know, so - FINE!). Another triathlon. A BIG triathlon. What if I don't finish? What if I come in last? At least I tried. Try-athlon. Is there some sort of award for that?

Take Two

Michael Buble said it. "It's a new dawn, it's a new day, it's a new life. And I'm feeling good." And so I am. I started this blog more than a year ago. I was at a very low point of life and needed something, anything, to think about besides ... you know. Bad days.

A loving Father in Heaven knew I needed "something" too. But instead of a blog, He sent me someone. Just a boy, but not an ordinary one. He's taught me that laughing is important, that crying is o.k. and that love is about the little things like making the bed everyday, just because he know I think it feels dirty when it's undone (so gross).

He's great, so I married him. I'm so glad I did. He's smart and patient and understanding and good and ... anyway, he's cool.

So I've been thinking lately, maybe it's time to pick up not where I left off, but where I am now. It's a good place. It's a good time.