Dream House

I have a recurring dream (OK, I have many) that manifests itself in one of two places: old or new. The gist is that I am in a house (or warehouse)--either one that I know or don't--and I walk around finding new rooms. I am always happy yet bewildered to find these rooms. The catch is that I no longer live in the house so I'm disappointed (crushed, really) that I can't enjoy the rooms because I don't live there anymore. Then, when I wake up, I wonder if I really did miss these rooms in my waking hours.

Last night I dreamed that I was staying at a condo with two other people trying to pick my room for the weekend. I had just settled on one room when another one popped up next door, then another next to it and so. I think this dream reflects this (maniacal) thought pattern I've been on. In a class on Wednesday I started thinking about time and the future and about made myself crazy. I literally made myself dizzy and had to force myself to stop thinking about it (the same way I can't think about space or really big numbers without going a bit nutso). I kept thinking of a timeline and how we haven't lived the next moment, hour, day, etc. yet because it doesn't exist. And it may not. And I don't mean that in a depressive or negative way, just a space-time continuum way.

Ghost Stories

I believe there are spirits in the material world. Caca Seca saw one at Monte Albán--a little girl. Jacobo saw one at our house on First Street in Brookings when he was little. He saw someone waving from a window as we drove away. He stands by his story over ten years later. In my classroom I have felt a distinct male presence on more than one occasion. In August I had another experience with this spirit.

I had finished golfing (hacking) at our annual staff golf tournament and needed to stop by school on my way home to pick up my computer. I was several blocks from school when I remembered that I had forgotten to pick up a check from my mailbox to pay for a staff breakfast the next day. I decided to turn around even though it was after 7:00 and I was exhausted from a long week of meetings plus the golf game. I checked my mailbox, but no check (another story in irritating bookkeeping practices at my school). As I was pulling away from school (for the second time), I noticed that a colleague's classroom window was open. I stopped the car and debated whether or not to back up, yet again, and go close it. I decided to go in and close it.

On my way into the building I saw that the cafeteria windows were all open, too. It would have been very easy for some troublemakers to crawl in and wreak havoc. I found it really strange that no one had closed them at the end of the work day. I climbed on a chair and closed them all, grumbling the whole time.

I headed up to my colleague's room, which is next door to mine. I opened her door and headed for her window to close it, but it was already shut. (Cue music.) I stood there bewildered for a moment and whispered, "Thank you." I figured the open window in my colleague's room was the hook to get me to close the cafeteria windows--a bigger potential problem. (For you naysayers, it was not windy. In fact, the window is so heavy that the wind couldn't have shut it anyway.)

The story doesn't end here. The next day I went in and told this story to my colleague. She said that she had noticed but hadn't closed the window because she was too exhausted. She suffers from arthritis, so it's difficult and dangerous for her to climb on a chair and close the window. She told me that she stopped and said, "Please close this for me" before she walked out the exterior door. She thinks that our ghost couldn't close all of the cafeteria windows alone and needed me to come back and help him do it.

Swine Flu, Fall 2009
Our house has not escaped the pandemic that is sweeping along the Front Range of Colorado. Jacobo started feeling ill Wednesday night and felt worse over the next day. My mother's intuition kicked in yesterday morning and I stayed home with him for the first time in YEARS. We went to the youth clinic and they confirmed my suspicions. He's been on Tamiflu for 24 hours and feels better today!

Overnight I was having flashbacks to when he was a little guy suffering from croup. He had RSV at one point, too. That was scary. The doctor had to give him prednisone for his lungs and that made his heart race. One of the saddest sounds I remember is of him crying, coughing, wheezing and writhing in my arms with the rosiest cheeks. At night I'd put him in bed beside me to make sure he was breathing. Last night I kept listening for his breath as well. I hope last night was the worst of it!

(I swiped the pig image somewhere and played with Skitch for the thought bubble. I crack myself up.)

The Swim
After donning our bright green swim caps, we headed towards the water for our wave’s countdown. Tri for the Cure offered “Swim Buddies,” lifeguards who volunteered for the event and swam with a racer. They were there for whomever wanted or needed assistance in the water. While I’m a good swimmer, I had a moment of panic and decided at the last minute to ask for a Swim Buddy. Orlinda was my own personal Swim Buddy. We chatted a lot along the way, which made the swim more fun. My stroke du jour was the side stroke. I always thought that it was hilarious that my mom swam this way (to keep her hair dry) when we were little. I found it the most efficient way to keep moving since I have forgotten how to coordinate my stroke and breathing in the crawl. My goal for next summer is to take lessons to get that down again. I could easily shave off 7-10 minutes if I get my swimming down.

My plan for the swim entailed a lot of floating to rest, but I didn’t need to. I’m sure that had Orlinda not been there I would not have pushed myself to keep swimming. Instead of my practiced mantra (I cut through the water like a knife), I found that counting my strokes helped me focus and get to each buoy. Plus, the water felt amazing. I had calculated that it would take me 45 minutes, at least, to swim the half-mile, but I finished it in 30. I know that it was because Orlinda was there to encourage me and assure me that I was not going to drown or quit.

Going into the race the swim was, in my mind, the biggest hurdle of the day. When I reached the boat ramp again and people were there to assist me out of the water, I knew that most dangerous part was over and I could hobble through the next two legs no matter what.

Up next, the bike and walk/run portion of the show.

Part 2...

Saturday, August 1, 2009: My friends and co-racers Amy and Lori were kind enough to let me ride to Denver and share a hotel room with them on the eve of the tri. We had to check in for the event before 3:00, so we left around noon and made a day of it. We checked in with the other 2887 women, checked out the expo and then made our way to Cherry Creek State Park to preview the course. Even though we didn’t go through the course, just seeing the area and the water helped me really visualize the race. Most people are most concerned about the swim portion of the race, myself included. I had never before swum continuously for more than a couple of laps (and I’m not counting one lap and as down AND back!). I felt deep down that I could swim that far even though I hadn’t actually done so. After checking the course we meandered to Il Fornaio for the requisite carbo-loading excuse to eat good pasta.

Race Day: I am not a good sleeper to begin with and when I have a big event and am at a hotel, I toss, turn and sigh even more. While noshing on bagels and berries, we put on our game faces and headed out on our bikes with all of our gear. My chain fell off when we took it off the car rack, and then fell off again on the ride to the park. It made me worry a little bit and was fine on the ride.

We got to the park a little before 7:00 in time to hear the “Star Spangled Banner” and have our numbers written on our arms and legs.
As the first waves were starting we got our transition area all laid out. Amy found a great spot in the grass so we could spread out and not worry about bumping other people’s bikes. Aside the fact that our class (“Buddies”) was so far from the swim/bike/run starting lines, it was perfect.

I knew that I’d be emotional at the end of the race, but I was surprised when I got weepy when I saw racers coming out of the water. Many of the racers were breast cancer survivors so that made it all the more moving. I also kept thinking of my aunt who is in the midst of chemo and choked up several times throughout the race. Another thing that kept choking me up and also moving along was knowing that friends had donated to the cause under my name.

Up next, The Swim.

Tri Training, Part 1 of an x-part series

All summer I trained for the Tri for the Cure. My training (and I use the term loosely) involved exercising six days a week. That was my goal, anyway. I probably averaged 4-5, though. I swam several times, in short spurts. I realized quickly that I am not the strong, efficient swimmer that I used to be, if I ever was that, even. I couldn’t find a rhythm with my stroke and breathing. I choked and coughed more than I breathed. Wendy, my ten year old niece, and I would go to the beach near my brother’s house and while she swam near the shore, I would swim “laps” and practice my swimming mantra: I cut through the water like a knife. Wendy would counter with her version of my mantra, “I sink to the bottom like an anchor.” Not the most encouraging of fans that one.

Other days I would walk around charming Lake Windsor, three miles from my house, around the lake and back. During my walks I listened to Christopher Moore’s A Dirty Job. It was a great way to get through the walk. After trading in my one-speed bike, Old Blue, I rode my new 21-speed Townie on the bike path. I rode the tri distance so I could get a good feel for the distance and my time. The only problem is that there aren’t many hills on our local paths, so I’ll have to work on that next summer since the tri bike course had a couple of doozies.

Tri for the Cure-Denver
August 2, 2009

Things that are decidedly uncool in my book*:

• showing up unannounced on Christmas day**.
• showing up at a host’s home on Christmas day without a gift of any sort**.
• putting empty ice trays in the freezer**.
• poor dental hygiene**.
• lying**.

*In no particular order and certainly not exhaustive.
**Based on a true story.

This week's to do list:

• work on my online class assignments (I'm the student)
• help plan my dad's 60th birthday party
• swim
• bike
• bake my dad a German chocolate cake
• swim
• fill out PEO grant paperwork to pay for online class
• meet friends for coffee, lunch and swimming
• clean house
• do laundry
• bike
• swim
  

BIG plans

Last summer I wrote about the book Slow Fat Triathlete. It planted a little seed in my head. I started to think about my sorry state of inactivity and about turning 40. Put the two together and voilà—I’m now entered in the Tri for the Cure-Denver 2009 on August 2. I’m really excited about it because I don’t usually set this type of goal. I do feel that with a lot of work and training this summer, I’ll be able to do it with a few months to spare before I turn 40 on the last day of the year.

The other reason this appealed to me this year is that one of my aunts was diagnosed with breast cancer last month. She had a double mastectomy a couple of weeks ago and will be going through chemo and radiation this summer..the same summer in which both of her sons are getting married.

If you’d like to support me and the Susan G. Komen for the Cure Foundation, please make a donation of any amount!

Thank you!