Eat your heart out, Joan Rivers

I'm pretty sure if we got robbed the
first thing they would steal is my
SWAG and I just cannot have that.

Drawing upon my extensive collection of standard internet safety procedures, I purposefully neglected to mention I was going out of town (again) last week. This was mostly to deter any shady characters out there who might be tempted to rob our home by denying them the helpful information of when our home would be empty. I'm sorry you had to suffer wondering why I was abandoning you yet again, but that's just a reminder that crime hurts everyone, y'all.

Brian and I loaded up the kiddos Thursday morning for a long weekend of ... camping. (I know, right?) I have lots of camping memories to share (memories I will treasure, I assure you) but I would be remiss if I skipped over the Red Carpet Run race recap.  Because honestly?  I did *not* work that hard on my outfit (i.e. I raided Lauren's stash of old dance costumes) to forego posting photos of all that fabulousness on the internet.

The Red Carpet Run is one of my favorite races.  I ran it last year with Rose where she smoked me in the dress department.  Here is a reminder:

Blue sequined dress and a blinking feathered tiara?  It's like I had no chance.

This year, I was determined to up my game. (I might take a moment to mention that this is actually a 5k. It is a timed 3.1 mile run with bib numbers, course support, and people that actually care about the running aspect. But for this race - I am no longer one of them.  (but remember when I got my sub-30 5k here last year?) This race, for me, is all about the *ahem* fashion.) I may have been thinking about my dress since the drive home from last year's race.

When Lauren gave me her old dance costumes for my little girlies to play dress up, I quickly pilfered the one I thought most likely to fit my favorite. For months it has been hanging in my closet waiting to debut on the red carpet. It was only a few hours before the race that I thought to try it on.  Turns out that it totally had a leotard underneath the skirt.  Who knew? It was like encountering unexpected Spanx and who wouldn't be excited about that? Thank the good Lord that not only do I excel at fashion but I am also a master at sucking in the Mama Gut.  I still had to wear my running capris under the skirt so by the time I was all dressed I was layered like it was 1800 A.D.

The weather this year was pretty decent.  It was in the upper 70's, sunny, and a bit humid.  I was worried about my perfectly coiffed 'do coming undone because that's what it does, and I really needed it to stay in place in order to showcase the loveliness of my dollar store tiara.

"Oh Hair, you are so funny!  Stop it, Hair!"

Lauren, Rose, and our friend Jackie all ran the race.  (Also, one of Rose's students - Rose is a cheer leading coach - ran as well.) We met up before the start to let the paparazzi capture us in all our glory.

Rose's student, Jackie, me, Lauren, and Rose.  And did you catch that tagline?  "For the young and fabulous."  Obviously.

We spent a few minutes posing in different locations.  I mean, give the public what they want, right?

Posed and sassy.

Candid shoe modeling.  And I'm pretty sure I never shut my mouth.  Literally.

Jackie's first race!  I'm like a proud Mama Bear.

Bitter.  The only word I can think of to describe how I felt upon discovering Rose broke out fishnet stockings for the race. She is some stiff competition, my friends. 

I planned to simply follow my half marathon training plan which called for a 3 mile run at half marathon pace.  Since I am aiming for a 2:30 half, that breaks down to about an 11:26 second mile.  I never wear any kind of running watch and I am horrible at pacing.  I know my normal pace is around 10:30, so I just planned to run this slow and easy.

We started all together, and Lauren's husband David captured probably my favorite picture in the history of the world.  To me this is one of those "how many things are going wrong?" pictures.  So.much.win.

Lauren's all, "I'm a ballerina but I'm being a smiley warrior."
I'm all, "I'm a warrior and a ballerina and have a GIANT FRONT LEG."
Rose is all, "I bet I could master the most unflattering positioning of my face and body all in one shot if I just stride far enough and yell out a 'woo'. Also, check out my hair."
Jackie is all, "Rose.is.awesome."

Soon we split off and I remembered just how hilly this race is.  It was also really hard running in velour.  I didn't realize how spoiled I am running in my sweat wicking clothing until all my sweat and body heat were trapped inside my admittedly beautiful costume.  I experienced my first chaffing since becoming a runner, which I'm pretty sure means I get some sort of merit badge.  My iPod left a painful red patch on my inner arm. It made me feel pretty hardcore, so I probably showed it to way more people than necessary. (Um, like all of them?)

I ended with an official time of 31:01, with an average pace of 10:00 min per mile.  Since I was aiming for 11:00, I need to work on my pacing.  But I'm not going to pretend I'm unhappy with a faster time than I thought I would have. Because that's just stupid.

Just steps from the finish.  And in the middle of an exhale.

Rose stayed with Jackie the whole time, sacrificing a PR and coaching her through her first race.  A fellow runner sought out Rose after the race to share how encouraging it was to watch, and said she wished she had Rose to run with next time!  I love the running community.  Jackie (and Rose) finished in around 45 minutes and Lauren PR'd by about 5 minutes! (The person who won the entire race ran it in 15:03.  Yep. 15:03 - did I stutter? He passed me going in the opposite direction at the one mile mark well on his way to finishing. The dude was flying.) (But? His costume totally sucked ... so who's the *real* winner now, hmmm?)

5k FINISHER!!!

What a great race and a fun time.  I can't wait for next year!

Some call it "Fourth Place"; I prefer to think of it as "Third from Winning"

"Duuuuude, Kel, nice job on FOURTH place. You
must be soooo stoked and like, super fast, man."

So I totally did it.  I may have cried a little.  But I FINISHED THE RACE. I also may have placed fourth in my age group.  (Please don't harsh my buzz by reminding me there were only four in my age group.)

Thank you for all the prayers on my Facebook plea Friday night. My triathlon was on Saturday. My LAST CHANCE Thursday evening swim workout ended about fifteen minutes after it started.  I was stuck behind a slower swimmer and had to switch from freestyle to breaststroke.  I wasn't really concentrating and made a lame attempt at the breaststroke kick and tweaked my knee.  I tried water walking on it and it hurt so soon I just got out of the pool. 

On Friday night Sarah came over to look at it.  (How did I manage to get a training partner that is also in orthopedics?!)  She thought it was a bruised meniscus and told me how to treat it.  She encouraged me to go to the race as planned, and if I needed to, I could always DROP OUT.  All I could think of was a huge DNF next to my name.  What a struggle - do I try and risk a Did Not Finish - or do I just throw in the towel and not try at all?

I trained and trained my tush off for this race.  I only do one triathlon a year because I have four kids and they have some pretty messed up priorities.  I mean, they would rather have money to eat dinner than allow the woman who birthed them to participate in numerous triathlons.  How selfish.  So this was my one shot this year. *Enter Eminem's Lose Yourself swelling in the background like a wave ready to crash on the beach of Lake Huron* (Compatible simile FTW.)

"I love open water swimming.  Also, if you smile wide
enough you can almost forget this water is about 70
degrees*". (*not a made up number to shock you;
the legitimate temperature of the water.)

It was a huge victory for me to get in the water and start that race.  My lifelong buddy - good old Fear of Failure - was with me the entire previous twenty-four hours, but I finally duct taped his mouth on the beach before the swim and just decided I was going to go for it.

So, how did it go?

It was awesome.  And it sucked.

Firstly, some background on the young fella in the picture.  Sarah and I have been training with a teenager named Jacob for a few months.  He is a runner and a cyclist, and I thought he would love triathlon, but the boy needed to learn how to swim.  (I mean, he could swim, but he couldn't swim, youknowwhatImean?)  He decided to do the Olympic distance (which was double my Sprint!) and a very ambitious goal for a first tri.  He worked really hard to get his endurance up for the race, but we never had time to do any open water practices.  Pool swims are vastly different from open water.

The water Saturday morning was C-O-L-D but also really, really rough.  Lake swims are usually fairly calm, but Lake Huron is one of the five Great Lakes, so it has things like tides and waves and undertow and mimics more closely an ocean swim than a smaller lake swim.

Pre-race I threw every word of wisdom at Jacob I could think of.  I'm sure it was entirely helpful and didn't freak him out at all.

"Dude, don't worry about your time - just stay alive.  You can make up time on the bike and run.  If you get tired switch to breaststroke or sidestroke.  Take your time to recover.  You are not going to drown.  You might get kicked, your goggles might get knocked around. You could even inhale some water, but remember, you can go a long time without air. Just stay calm, you'll be fine.  Look for the kayaks if you need help.  But, you'll totally be fine."

I'm a really good coach/pep talk giver.

The race started (Olympic distance first) and Jacob was off. There were only fourteen in his entire race and it was a very competitive field.  He was the youngest by a few years.

I waited nervously for the Olympic Distance swimmers to round the buoy at 250 yards, and then I peed in the water joined the horde of Sprinters close to the start.

I thought I was being smart this year by not placing myself behind the slower swimmers.  I knew I had upped my game in training and was ready to be a lot more confident in the water.  At the bell I scrambled for my position.  It looked something like this:

Only 20 yards in I got kicked in the face and my goggles got knocked off.  I also inhaled a ton of water.  I couldn't catch my breath and the waves (which really look non-existent in this picture so you're just going to have to trust me on that) were knocking me back.  I was already in over my head (haha - figuratively, as well) and couldn't stand to get any air or to fix my goggles.

I freaked the heck out.  I could feel a panic attack a-comin'.  It was every worst case triathlon scenario combining into a fantastic culmination of suck.  I don't even know if that sentence makes any sense - I just know at that point I was having a huge problem that had nothing to do with my knee.  I thought about calling for a pool noodle, but then realized I couldn't find a kayak in order to request one. Finally I remembered what I told Jacob, namely that I wasn't going to die.   First I had to clear my lungs and get some air.  After a minute of sidestroking and slowing down my mind while taking teeny breaths that did let in some air, I calmed down enough to cough a bit.  Once I had my full breath I adjusted my goggles.  They were still a little wet inside (and very foggy) but at least I wasn't completely blind anymore.

I tried freestyle but at this point I was fully entrenched in the breaststrokers.  I just couldn't get through anywhere.  These people had dutifully followed directions and waited in the back so they wouldn't get swam over, and honestly, at that point I was just not powerful enough to swim over anyone. (But I probably accidently goosed at least three people with my stroking arm.)(Stroking arm.)(*giggle*)

When I neared the beach I tried running out of the water but the undertow was cuh-razy strong and unexpected, so I sort of stumbled majestically.  Like, the waves battered me from behind while the water grabbed at my ankles and I did a weird curtsy looking thing in order to stay upright.  (Shout out to Will and Kate!) The beach that separates the water from the transition area is about 100 yards of soft sand.  I ran about six steps before my knee said, "Naw, girl, let's meander this beach."

Meander I did.  It looked something like this:

I would subtitle this photo: Discouragement/I'm About To Kill Something/Brian Better Not Be Taking A Picture Of Me Because I Hate Everything Right Now/I Can Literally Feel Seaweed On My Back/Tri Shorts Moving South In Order To Display a FANTASTIC Muffintop

I'm not going to lie.  I cried a bit in Transition.  I told Brian, "I can't run. Waaaaa." (Not an ugly Kim Kardashian cry, but a pitiful little whimper-esque thing.) Brian ignored me and yelled, "GO KELLY! YOU GOT THIS!" which is why I married him.

Broccoli tattoo in full effect.
P.S. It's totally not really broccoli.

Thinking only about the hill.  And my bike shorts.  Which were caught on the seat.

Bike started just the way I needed it to.  I was totally worried that the bike course starts with a hill.  There is no real lead up to it; it's just right there as you get on your bike.  As I was getting on my bike, my tri shorts caught on my bike seat. Since the only thing they have to grip is my bathing suit, the bike seat pulled my shorts down fantastically low and I had to make a snap decision - commit to the hill or pull up my shorts?

You don't even need to wonder what I chose; you know I'm a super hardcore athlete, so of course I mooned* everyone along the entire bike course. (* It was just a bathing suit moon, 100% legal, chill out.)

The bike portion was so.much.fun.  I knew the course, biking wasn't hurting my knee (it never fully extends while pedaling), and, since I seriously doubted I would be running, I went full out for the duration, not worrying about conserving any energy for the 5k. WOO-HOO!  Miles 3-6 are a steady incline, so my legs were feeling it by the time I turned around.  Then I got to Speedy Gonzales my way downhill. It was wonderful.  THAT was what I trained for.

After bike I decided I was just going to walk to stupid 5k.  I certainly wasn't going to quit at this point.  The race volunteers assured me the course would still be open (due to the Olympic racers) for as long as it took me to finish.  My pride took a beating as I strolled past spectators cheering on the first finishers.  I jogged a few steps every ten feet just to test things out.  It was getting easier to jog as my legs calmed down from the bike portion, but it still wasn't the most graceful looking comfortable thing I've ever done.

I walked about 3/4 mile before I had this epiphany: It hurts to walk.  It hurts to run. I may as well run because it will go faster.  (This is the kind of reasoning that separates us from primates, y'all.)

About this time I met Jack, my Triathlon Best Friend.  Jack and I had been leapfrogging for the run portion.  (I know some people hate leapfroggers, but they don't bother me at all.  I just assume it's their well thought-out plan to avoid injury or something else altruistic.) He kept asking questions about the run course and I explained how clearly it was marked.  I was pretty sure he was over the tri thing at this point and just wanted to chat with someone.  Plus he kept jogging and walking at inconsistent intervals, so Hey There, Sherlock.

I finally called out, "Yo, Number 14," which was his age,"Wait up a minute."  He stopped and I caught up and continued, "So my knee hurts and you look like you are struggling a bit.  Let's stay together and set little goals.  What do you think?" He was all, "Totally, Woman Who Seems Not Crazy At All Like Someone Who Is An Expert At All Things Triathlon."  This was an excellent system for both of us.

Jack was a fourteen year old who recently moved to Michigan from Australia. He is the oldest of four, a soccer player, and about to enter high school in the fall.  I was all, "I could be your mom." Jack's proper response should have been, "No, you're not old enough," but instead he replied, "Yeah!"  I forgave him since he encouraged me for almost two whole miles before his uncle caught up with us and Jack blew our current pace out of the water to finish with Uncle John.

The last half mile was run on pure heart.  I knew the course; I knew I had the equivalent to a few blocks and some downtown area to run.  I was pretty warmed up and my knee wasn't as loud in it's complaining.  I knew I was going to finish this running. Dare I say I actually felt TRIUMPHANT at this point?  I probably cried a little again.

50 yards to go! Run, Kelly, Run!

SMILES? 25 yards to go!

FINISH LINE!!!!!!

I crossed the finish line at 1:35 - less than five minutes slower than last year.  You gotta believe that stung a little.  If only I would have run the whole thing ... ;-)  I came in fourth in my age group - there were only four of us, natch - and top three got finisher medals, but hey, now I know what is possible for next year, right?

We waited for Jacob to finish.  He finished in an impressive 2:39.  He beat out two other triathletes.  He was last out of the water but not last up the beach after the swim; he averaged 18.5 mph on his 24 mile bike course riding a heavy mountain bike (with the lock still attached!)(wish I'd caught that earlier), and finished the race with a 6.2 mile run with an average pace of 7:39 - WHAT?! (oh to be young, driven, and naturally athletic.)  I was so proud of him.  He worked so hard and is now a TRIATHLETE!

Future Ironman.  You heard it here first, kids.

We completed the day with a Grand Slam breakfast at a Denny's where the hostess loved me and got me a giant bag of ice to put on my knee.  She even sat us in the corner booth so I could prop up my leg behind Esther while we inhaled ate our pancakes like ladies.

I shared my bacon with Eve = Best Mom Ever.

The End.

When the Recap Fairy Sneezes

So, I really want to finish up the California Series (doesn't that sound totally like I have a grownup, well-thought out blog?) but I also really want to recap Saturday's triathlon.  Lest you think this is the worst First World Problem I've had today, let me share with you that:



My church clothes were really comfortable but I had to grocery shop so I had to change into my really comfortable blue jean cut-offs while I was still really comfortable from my nap and it's hard to transition between comforts.

My knee hurt but if I wore my knee brace with my comfy shorts my leg looked like a sausage in a casing.

I wanted Breyer's Thin Mint ice cream but Breyer's M&M ice cream was also on sale. I guess I had to buy them both.

One radio station had Imagine Dragons Radioactive while another was playing Bob Seger We've Got Tonight and I couldn't decide if I was feeling like a warrior or if I wanted to give in to PMS.

It was 5:30 p.m. but if I didn't have iced coffee right now I.might.die. but then I wouldn't be able to fall asleep quickly and I would have to stay up late watching t.v.

I got tired watching Brian unload the groceries from the car because then I could see how much there was for me to put away.


Let me tell you, it is rough living my life.  Truth.

In response to the initial recapping quandary (Cali or triathlon?), I'm simply going to share some pics, and recap the race fully on Wednesday.  Because you'll need the details about how I rallied from a life-altering knee injury* (*really, Drama Queen?) to place (7)1st out of EIGHTY-ONE competitors, which, if you can math, you figured that I beat out (count 'em) TEN of those participants.  But? I totally finished and I am darn proud I did.  Victory, yo.

Here is the pictorial conclusion to the California trip.

Dinner and an all-female mariachi band in Old Town San Diego.  Also, they did a Disney medley which was as awesome as it was weird.  I ate a tamale for the first time and now I think Eve is lucky we named her before this experience.  Otherwise my firstborn would be named Tamales de Pollo.  It was verde, verde good.

Mission Beach!  I've actually never seen a freeway exit with just the word "Beaches" on it.  It was sweet and prompted me to say, "Wat up, BEACH-ES?" a million times because it never stops being funny.  Never.

This is because I'm a really good friend to show you how committed Lauren is to getting a good shot.  The tide pools at Sunset Cliffs.  And yeah, as soon as she posts her pics to Facebook I'm totally stealing one of this cute little crab.  Adorbs.  Also, she will probably post (in revenge) several shots of me being "pensive" on the cliffs... and later standing up and realizing I left damp butt cheek prints on the rocks.  (Damp from sea water spray, not tush sweat. Stop being so gross. Seriously. Stahp.) (I almost published this with "stahp" - a Jersey Shore reference - spelled "staph", which would have taken this story in a whole 'nother direction.) 

So, I'm 34 years old and had never been here in my life.  Sister Wife Rachel suggested I get my fries "animal style" and the biggest regret of my life is that I did not heed her suggestion. No one in the vicinity of the restaurant had them and I was scared to ask.  This is how fear ruins your life, y'all.

Sunset at La Jolla.  If I wan't married I might troll La Jolla for a hubby. (#Iain'tsayin'sheagolddigger)
Gorgeous.

Two hours north of San Diego at Wayfarer's Chapel.  If I wasn't married and had found a husband at La Jolla, I would totally get married here.  It's a glass chapel that overlooks this kind of thing.

And this.

And this.  Sike.  That's just me.

So, to sum up California:  If I could pack up everyone I know and love and take them with me to southern California, I would do it tomorrow.  Consider that a heads-up, all you I know and love.  Settle your Michigan affairs and grab your sunblock because we are moving West. I will not easily forget you, California. Nor do I suspect some of you will easily forget me. (I might be thinking of you, Poor Snot Boy.)

As a teaser for Wednesday's post, check this out:

Awww yeah.  Jacob has been training with Sarah and I for a few months now.  This is his first triathlon. This picture was taken pre race, while we are full of terror optimism.

First of all, you're welcome.  Second, this is me before the start, mere minutes before I got kicked in the face, had to tread rough water to reattach my goggles and experiencing several of the other Triathlete's Worst Case Scenario happenings.  I can't wait to talk about this swim.  

Race recap Wednesday.  You don't want to miss it!

Brain Dump and the Apocalypse

Approximately five times a day Brian does something both hilarious and inappropriate and then smirks, "Put *that* in your blog."  This is maddening and is one of the few things that makes me wish I blogged anonymously.  Because then? All bets are off, Babe.

I tried on nine pairs of shorts at Plato's Closet yesterday.  Plato's Closet is a used clothing store for teens and 34 year old SAHM's who have lost 100 pounds who want to update their wardrobe for cheap.  As my weight has dropped I find I'm more interested in fashion, and Plato's Closet allows me to try new styles without a big monetary commitment.  My newest discovery is that among the young adult crowd, the most popular accessory to go with shorts is your vagina.  I'm thinking of opening my own used clothing store where all the shorts are still hip without exposing you to too much of mine.  I'll call it "Not Too Hip".  I'm sure it'll take off.  That mess is marketing gold.

I went on a bike ride this morning on my new baby:

Selfie because everyone was still asleep.
#superhardcoreathlete

Sarah helped me get it for my birthday and it is such an improvement on my old ride. (Which is a mountain bike that I still love for trail riding.  This is a road bike and is sooooo much lighter and a significantly smoother ride.  For those that speak cycling it has hybrid tires because I'm clumsy.)

Even though I chose those handlebars my left hand still started to tingle around mile ten (because the pressure plus my tendinitis can make my hands go numb), and when I waved to a car to give them the right of way it was like I had turned into a mannequin.  Or Miss America.  Either way my wave was awesomely stiff and I stared at my hand in wonderment as I tried to make a fist and giggled when I realized I probably looked really high to the average bystander.

The real reason for this post is that all you lovelies that follow me on Google Reader are about to LOSE ME FOREVER.  It's like the apocalypse for bloggers.  But you can follow me another way.  I've chosen Bloglovin' to keep track of all the blogs I follow.  You can do that, too.  You can also follow me on Facebook.  I update my Sublurban Mama status every time I post, so you can still keep up with all the vital life information I dole out regularly.  You're welcome.

DFL - A Modern Day Horror Story

"Second Place is First Loser."
-the Navy Seals

I don't want to get too bragg-y, but in terms of my running speed, I'm pretty solidly in the 40th percentile.  Roughly 60 percent of the other runners in the race will cross the finish line before me.  I'm okay with that because 30 percent are finishing after me*, which I'm sure we all can agree is the main point of races.  You know, to beat somebody.

(*Even at my slowest, my very first 5K was comprised of both walkers and runners so I was guaranteed a middle-of-the-pack but totally an end of the pack for runners finish.)(It's not like any of the walkers passed me while I was running.)(That would be ridiculous.)(It totally happened.)(But if it did happen, it would have been by a cracked out power walker wearing Shape Ups.)(One who, if having incorporated just a little more bounce in her step would have technically been considered jogging.)(I'm going to suggest some of these "walkers" get tested for performance enhancing drugs before races.)(Because if there's one thing we learned from Lance, it's how to look bored out of your mind while confessing your contrition when you get caught doing the thing you spent your career vehemently swearing you didn't do   that it is possible for a Damage Control Publicity Tour to make you seem like more of a jackhole than the initial infraction ever did  that victory obtained through falsehood isn't true victory.)

As I was picking my races I thought, "It might be really cool to do an Olympic distance triathlon this summer."  The Olympic distance is twice as long as the Sprint distance I did last year.  I spent a few days warming up to the idea, looked up a good race, and committed.  I was going to do an OLYMPIC DISTANCE TRIATHLON.  I wrote out my training plan and took some time to revel in my own Bad-A self.  It was while I was dwelling on my awesomeness, picturing myself competing in this particular race, when I was struck by a horrifying thought.

(If you are a runner, there are a few acronyms you pick up along the way.  "PR" stands for the Personal Record, "LSD" is the long slow distance I drop every Sunday before church, and "ACL" is an injury to avoid like the plague.  Some acronyms you learn to save time, some to be cool, and some just for plain old survival. There is one such survival acronym in my arsenal that I never-evah-evah (Sorry Ms. Jackson)(forevah-evah?) wanted to see associated with my name.

D  F  L.

Dead Effing Last.)

I realized, what with the size (this race is very small.  Last year about 120 people raced the Sprint.  Only seventeen raced the Olympic.  Of those seventeen, two were women.) and caliber of athlete competing in this race (last year's slowest time - by a lot - for Olympic was 2:53:46), if I do the Olympic Distance Triathlon I want to do, there is a huge chance I will finish last.  Like last out of the whole entire race.  Both Sprint and Olympic combined.  DFL.

"So, Kelly, what's the big deal, find a different race."  I know.  I could just find something bigger and stop being such a drama queen get on with life.  But I like this race.  And now I have a mental challenge on top of the physical challenge of racing.  Can I emotionally handle being DFL?

So I've taken the first step.  (Admitting you have a problem is the first step, right?) I've also taken the official next step, which I've decided is "Contact the race organizers and make sure there is not a time cut off for the Olympic distance."  Because the only thing more embarrassing than a DFL finish is the one you are not allowed to finish because you're TFS*.

*I made that one up.  You can work it out on your own.

For All My Fitness Homies*

*and by "homies" I mean "fellow nerds".

Many of you started reading this blog last summer at the height of my physical fitness.  I was training for and completed my very first triathlon, and was in full-on Beast Mode. Maybe you've noticed that for months now lately my posts have been decidedly un-health related. There is a simple reason for that.  Winter is my season to get fat hibernate and recover from the constant stress I put on my body during training.

But guess what?  It's almost spring and the time for preparation has come.  This race season is already in full effect.  So buckle your seat belts, kids, Mama's in for the long haul.

(You're all, "Dude, who is this person?")

(And I'm like, "I know, right? It's like I've been replaced with the nerdier version of me.")                        
(To which you reply, "Nerdier version?  Is that even possible?")

I'm a planner.  I love, love, love to plan.  My plans have plans.  (Remember Black Friday?) I'm pretty sure that's why I love Pinterest so much.  It's like the Land of Eternal Plans.

One of my favorite things to do in February is plan my race schedule for the year.  I get out the calendar and commit to a million races that all look like the best.races.ever.  Then I have a bit of a reality check because races cost money. And so do diapers (which I am still buying because I suck at potty training.)(And maybe I stress ate an entire package of Ezra's potty training M&M's yesterday.)(So it may be a while before the kid has any incentive to pee in the potty because Mama is not going shopping for a few days.) A girl can only afford/justify paying to run in a race for fun so many times.  I had to scale back my race dreams considerably.

(Some of the races on my Dream List?
1. Tough freaking Mudder - it's like a half marathon where you can get electrocuted.  Who wouldn't want that?!
2. Color Run - have you ever seen the pictures?
3. Warrior Dash - um, my race recap kind of says it all.
4. Foam Fest - just like Warrior Dash ... but cleaner.
5. Red Carpet Run - a 5k in a prom dress? Totally there.)

Once my races are picked, I set up my training schedule.  I usually train around the biggest races. (Duh.)  This year I am training for three main races.  A 10k in April (due to injury and two weeks of flu I am actually having to be pretty diligent about getting back to 10k form), a triathlon in July, and a half marathon in October.

Determining a training schedule actually takes quite a bit of time for me.  Most triathlon training plans are written for 6 workout days a week, and I know I can only commit to 5. And since they involve swimming, biking, and running I have to factor in pool access, when I have the blocks of time to do long workouts (two hour bike rides, hour and a half runs, and brick workouts - which are usually long bike rides followed immediately with thirty minute runs), and how to follow long workouts with meaningful rest time.  (For example:  running an hour and a half Saturday, biking two hours Sunday, and running intervals on Monday probably isn't the best plan.  Unless, of course, I'm planning for injury.  Then it's a stellar plan.) Since my days off are Tuesdays and Fridays, this means I have to play a bit with any traditional schedules. (I mostly follow the plan(s) by Matt Fitzgerald. He knows his stuff and he's cute.)

For the 10k and half-marathon I just follow good ol' Hal Higdon.  He hasn't failed me yet.  I might modify the half plan slightly to include some speed work, but we'll see.  For now here is a sample of my training plan.  I picked June because it's in the middle to last part of my sixteen week training plan.  It's intense but not crazy sick yet.

A work of art, amIright?  Let me decode it for you.

Run workouts are red because "red" rhymes with "tread" which is short for "treadmill*." (Genius.) (*although I will mostly run outside on a non-treadmill surface.)

Swim workouts are blue because ... dude, really?

Strength training is green because "green" rhymes with "lean and mean" which makes me think of strength training. (Seriously, why wouldn't it?)

Bike workouts are brown because I didn't have orange.  (Orange was my first pick because orange makes me think of creamsicles, which almost kind of has "cycle" right in the word.) I settled for brown because trail riding is by far my favorite (although I train for triathlon on the road) and brown reminds me of trail riding and that makes me happy.

I use black for information like race dates, recovery weeks, and taper weeks.

There are also a lot of codes involved in the training plan which makes it look a lot more hardcore than it is. These are just different drills and kinds of workouts.  It's not that complicated once you know it. (Ex: TRR = Transition Run (a ten minute run after a bike workout to teach your legs to run after prolonged biking); SLI = Swim Lactate Intervals (a fancy way to say 'on a scale of 1-10, 10 being you are about to keel over, swim at a 9 for 75 yard intervals); CLH = Bike Long Hill Climbs (pretty much what it sounds like - a bike ride with a bunch of long hills (five minutes of steady climbing).

I feel so much relief at having a plan.  Following The Plan means I have less chance of mortifying myself by barely stumbling across the finish line. Once I'm entrenched in training I don't have to think about what to do next which is good because all my brains cells are busy convincing me not to quit.

I am so excited to get into tri season.  To all my fellow fitness nerds homies I say, "Happy Race Season! Hurrah!"

How I Became an Ultra-Ironman Triathlete

I should not have put off writing today's post for as long as I have, as it is now late Tuesday night and instead of reveling in my normal hilarity I am sad, sad, sad.

Brian just took the in-laws to the airport. You know, where they will be boarding a plane to Africa.  For a year. (And by that I mean they will be living in Africa for a year, not boarding a plane for a year.)(It's just that my sentence structure was confusing and I didn't want anyone to be misinformed.)(Because here at Sublurban Mama we care about factual and accurate information.)(And avoid redundancies and repeating ourselves.)(Did you like how I said "we" like Sublurban Mama is more than me, a SAHM blogging in my jammies, wondering if Ezra will remember he has a Milky Way Valentine's heart from Grandma in the fridge or if he is still young enough that out of sight means out of mind, and if that is the case I should totally eat it?)

For those who already live far away from family, or just plain don't see yours much, in-laws in Africa for a year will not seem a big deal.  But I'm close with my in-laws, and the kiddos see their grandparents several times a week.  We live 3.1 miles apart (which is an excellent running route, because there's always cold water and a potty half way through)(and a ride home if I wuss out).  This will be an adjustment.  Because honestly, I can't see myself going out for a jog to Malawi anytime soon.  I am an ultrarunner at heart, but I should probably cover more than 6 miles at a time if I'm going to attempt intercontinental running.  Plus there's that whole "ocean" thing.  Although that could be the most intense triathlon ever.

The Ironman Triathlon is a 2.4 mile swim.  The Visit the In-Laws in Malawi Triathlon is about a 4,000 mile swim.  The Ironman follows it's swim with 112 miles on the bike.  My VTILIM Triathlon would have a 3300 mile bike ride.  The run would undoubtedly be the easiest part. The Ironman finishes with a little 26.2 mile marathon, and I think the VTILIM run would be about the same.  Except in a third world nation.  With no support or paved roads.  A trail run marathon.

Actually, my Visit the In-Laws in Malawi Triathlon sounds a lot like what I imagine is an everyday Navy Seal workout.  In fact, with a few minor tweaks (like the rule where you have to carry a weapon and wear camo body paint) I'm pretty sure I should rename this the Navy Seal Triathlon for Hardcore Endurance Athletes that Know Second Place is First Loser and that Pain is Just Weakness Leaving the Body.  It's catchier and more inclusive, don'tcha think?

Hoorah.

Party Like It's 2012 (but also like you're a 33 year old with four kids)

This is totally what I'm doing tonight.  Except replace all
these hip people with my kiddos and my in-laws.  And then
swap the balloons and streamers and party atmosphere with
the interior of our local Chinese restaurant.  But otherwise
pretty much the exact same thing.

How did it get to be New Year's Eve already?  WTHeck, Time? Slow down you animal; there are children aboard.

I loved this year.  2012 did me good, y'all.  (That sentence was a grammatical mess, and, to be honest, made me wonder if people would deduce I was trying to hint at innuendo but failed miserably because I'm not really a Master of the Sexy.  Which is why it was up to Justin Timberlake to bring sexy back and not me, which is good because apparently he succeeded and sexy is totally back.

2012 was a kinda a big year.  If I had to sum it up in one phrase it would be "The year that Kelly turned into a Bagel BELT and Iced Capp because: you are what you eat."  (Not having Tim Horton's sponsor my blog is one of my major fails in life.)  I may or may not have received four TH gift cards for Christmas.

Um, yeah that's my husband. *Swoon*

Sadly, this is the year that Joe Stillwell left Needtobreathe.  I am still very, very blue about this. If I was a teenybopper, it's Joe's poster that would be on my wall.  Because I maybe have a thing for musicians and he is, after all, a drummer.  But since I'm a grown woman and my husband won't let me I don't have any rock star's picture over our bed. (But I'm just sayin' if I did it would be Joe, which is why I'm so sad about his departure.)

Rock of Ages ... don't hate.
This is what I would be like as a rock star.
Except I'd wear a shirt because I'm a lady.

I did get into some new music this year.  I fully jumped on the Mumford & Sons bandwagon.  I love me some rock and roll banjo.  I also discovered Fun and a bunch of other stuff I never would've given a chance if it weren't for needing a good running playlist.  Neon Trees, Foster the People, 30 Seconds to Mars, and Bon freaking Jovi topped some of my playlists.  In my most awesome moment ever I confessed I really wanted the Rock of Ages soundtrack for Christmas.  In an even more awesome moment that trumped my confession I actually received the CD because my mom loves me.

Her Majesty.

I also had fun on the Internets.  My favorites this year included Honest Toddler -  on Twitter and his blog, Ghetto Hikes, and of course The Bloggess.  (Jenny Lawson is my Stephenie Meyer.  You know, in the sense that she's an average woman who makes a ton of money writing hilarious nonsense.) I've also been extremely blessed to enter the blogosphere and "meet" some fantastic people. I'm thinking of Katie at Nested and Stephanie at That Loud Redhead.



To finish my 2012 review, here are my Top Five Gamechangers of 2012.  These are the things I never saw coming that changed my life.  All of them.  In one year.  It's been a ride.

1. Sarah - Can you believe that I only met Sarah in February?  We met at a triathlete swimming class offered at my gym.  Sarah was an actual triathlete while I was a wannabe who didn't know if I could do it.  For some reason she still wanted to swim with me after the class ended and she wasn't forced to because she paid to be there.  Our swim times grew to include bike times, practice triathlon times, and finally just hang out and have fun without killing our bodies times.  Our Christmas gift exchange was rad as she spoiled my whole family rotten; she got me because I wanted it so badly Ezra this:

If you listen closely, it's totally a Kris Kross ripoff which I love.  Now I get to hear Tigger rap, "wiggity-wiggity-wiggity-wiggle!"  all day long.  Pooh is so hood.  100 Acre Woods, y'all! (Yeah, I totally just threw up the midwest gang sign.)  I got her some footie pajamas.  And?  They have shark feet.

Sarah's are aqua, and can you ever go wrong with shark feet?  Answer:  NO.

2. Pinterest - Laugh all you want but Pinterest has changed my life mainly because it reminds me that I will never have my act together enough to make miniature sushi shaped like a penguin and that's more than okay.  Pinterest is teaching me how to dress, one accessorized outfit at a time.  It is teaching me how to combine desserts into hybrid dessert recipes that would make Keegan-Michael Key freak the heck out because they are that good.  (Why stop with brownies?  Why don't we make brownies with a pretzel crust and fill them with oreo cookies? They also probably need to be topped with cookie dough.)  It is where I first discovered that some children, whose parents love them, have rock walls in their bedrooms.  Mine have to settle for climbing the fireplace. They are so deprived.

3. Sublurban Mama - I thought about doing this blog for a while.  I started it in June and the response has been overwhelming.  I'm so thankful for each and every one of you who read it. (And comment. I'm a nerd about loving people that comment.)(And all of you that are Sublurbanites and follow me on Google Friend Connect - I might yell "SOMEONE ELSE IS FOLLOWING ME!" to Brian whenever it happens.  It's totally like on It's a Wonderful Life when Zuzu Bailey says, "Teacher says, "Everytime a bell rings, an angel gets his wings." But you following me is the bell, and me screaming in excitement and maybe on accident peeing a little  is like an angel getting wings.  Or something.)(We won't even talk about what happens when another blog links to me.)(Have I mentioned that I can still do the Roger Rabbit and it might be part of my happy dance when those of you that love me refer me to others who then in turn follow me on Google Friend Connect or Facebook?)

So this blog was a bit of a game changer for me.

This is just me.  Being a triathlete.  No biggie.

4. Triathlon - Did I mention I did a triathlon this year?  Oh, I did?  I forgot how many posts I wrote about it but here is the recap.  Triathlon is a monster of a sport.  Can you imagine getting race ready for three different sports?  The equipment needs themselves are staggering.  I was pushed out of my comfort zone every day (for four months!) as I prepared for the big day.  It was one of the proudest moments of my life.





5. Disney World - I feel a titsch silly with this one, but I finally get what the Disney hype is all about and I will totally be going back at some point.  What made this trip so special was that it was thrown together pretty last minute by the in-laws, who are so good to us.  It was to be our last big family time together before Brian's parents move from 3 miles away in our little Michigan town to Malawi for a year. Yep.  Africa's Malawi.  It's gonna be rough. Rough for me because I love them and will miss them.  Rough for them because Malawi doesn't have a Tim Horton's.  I don't know who will have it worse.

Happy New Year everyone!  Stay safe tonight.  I'll see you next year! (I had to do it.  It's a tradition, right?)

Strutting My Stuff-ing

I am so embarrassed at my own laziness.  To
think I could have worn this to the race ...

Turkey and stuffing and potatoes and pie!  I hope y'all had a lovely Thanksgiving.  Since I took a monster break from blogging we have much to catch up on, namely, what I did with my hair.

Last time I posted I conducted a worldwide contest to find America's Next Top Haircut for Kelly.  The choices can be seen here.  Haircut number 1 garnered exactly zero percent of the vote because apparently everyone hates Jennifer Aniston.  (Don't worry, Jen, I'll be there for you.)  Haircuts number 2 and 3 tied, each with 50 percent of the votes. Then my awesome hairdresser weighed in with, "Um, Kelly this is almost the exact same haircut, just styled differently and photographed from another angle."  So whatever you voted I totally agree with you and I chose your haircut.

Here is a before and after shot of my haircut.  The after shot is literally a three minute blow out I did all by myself.  Don't get too jealous of my hairdryer skillz.  If I ever get fancied up and curl it more to look like haircut number 3 (probably around Christmas party time) I will post some pics because I know you are dying to see that as well.  Before:

"Awesome dark shot Kel that makes it so we totally can't see your hair."  Also, in my Mom's voice, "Don't look over the top of your glasses, you remind me of a nun."  (She has Catholic school memories, y'all.)  In my defense, I was on my way to the salon and thought, "DUDE!  I totally need a before pic.  I'd better pull over even though it's getting dark and I might miss my appointment and take this picture because I care about authentic blogging."  You're welcome.

 After: In both these pictures I'm thinking, "He-ey!"  You can hear it, amIright? Also, I look super weird without my glasses.  But, did I mention this is a three minute blowout?  I might want to remind you that I have four kids and often fall back on the dreaded mom ponytail.  But no longer will that be the case! Three minute blowout to the rescue.

Glasses on, much better.  And I'm looking in the mirror like a boss.

Snowflake clings on my half bath mirror?  Am I ahead of the game or what?

After my haircut I came home to show off my new 'do.  I walked into my house feeling like a supermodel and was greeted by Esther screaming, "PAPA!  MAMA CUT OFF ALL HER HAIR!"  Eve added, "IT'S RUINED!"  This did wonders for my self-esteem.  Mysteriously, Santa then declared both of them were now on the Naughty list so yeah, sucks to be them.

It has become a tradition (i.e. we've done it twice) that after the Thanksgiving morning Turkey Trot we come back to my house to eat brunch.  I spent the rest of Wednesday evening preparing for the brunch. I made my Grandma's famous casserole (yep, that casserole; I'm pretty sure every grandma makes the same one), a fruit salad (that one took me all night as I had to open up the pre cut fruit I'd bought and dump it all into one serving dish), and did some baking.  I'm not gonna lie; I rule at any kind of food prep that involves lots of sugar and fat, so baking is one of my better culinary masterings.  Also, Hosanna is allergic to milk, eggs, and corn syrup and consequently I am a creative baker.  I made vegan mixed berry cobbler (de-lish-us) and snickerdoodle bread that I call "coffee cake" to justify serving it at breakfast.  The other component of the meal - the frozen Hebrew National cocktail pigs in a blanket (obviously) - would just need to be cooked in the morning.

Thanksgiving morning it was really foggy and about 45 degrees for the race, so Eve and I wore layers and took cheapo cotton gloves.  We got to the race about an hour early because I guess I can't read and thought the race started at 9:00 a.m., so we had plenty of time to people watch.  This race has tripled in size since I first ran it two years ago, so there were a lot of people to check out.  I am slightly disappointed that once again I have dropped the ball and failed to procure an actual turkey costume before race day.  Many others mocked me with their prepared selves happily adorned in giant costumes or turkey hats.

I knew a few other people running (unprepared and lazy as well)(because I'm sure those are the only reasons people run 5K's without costumes) so we gathered for a happy pre-race picture.

The girl right next to me in the purple?  This was her fourth run.  Not fourth race, her fourth run.  I may have wanted to trip her when she caught up to me was super proud and impressed at her natural athletic ability.  And she's a newlywed. 

Proof.  Plus?  Her 18 year old sister-in-law designed and sewed this gown.  You can find her on Facebook here.

The race was nice.  They did drop the ball by not having the first water station available by the time we all ran past, but this was only a mile in and no one was really going to dehydrate (totally a verb) at that point.  (It did cause a moment of panic in my 9 year old "Type A to the Nth degree" child because, well, we planned to drink and walk for 20 seconds at the one mile mark and it didn't happen.)

I was all, "Quick, flex your quad so no one will notice you are bottom heavy."  Totally worked.

We had so many friends and family attend the race as spectators, and it was really fun to cross the finish line when a group of fifteen people are screaming your name. The throngs cheering for me personally is pretty much what the inside of my head sounds like all the time; although experiencing the reality was slightly better.  Because, you know, other people hear it too. (And it's like others are agreeing with my self-proclaimed awesomeness.)(Which makes it no longer self-proclaimed.)(Just General Awesomeness.)

Sarah ran five miles to the race to watch me run.  And then ran five miles home.  I feel like that could have been made into a tongue twister if I tried hard enough.  Now you have a challenge for the day. Go!

Tomorrow I will recap more Thanksgiving festivities in a blog entitled "It's really not Thanksgiving until Grandma drops a 'He/She'."  You may want to tune in for that.