Onward and Upward

Happy Birthday to me - I turned 36 yesterday. Here's to another fun and fabulous season as a back-of-the-pack age grouper!

Irony at its finest - today I took Bear to the store and picked up organic milk, organic bananas, organic yogurt and a variety of green cleaning products. Then I temporarily lost my mind and got him his first McDonald's cheeseburger for lunch.

Goal postponed - haven't found that wagon just yet, but only because a nasty virus found me first. Entering the 4th week of being sick, finally starting to think I may soon be able to move more than arm's length from a box of kleenex and my narcotic cough medicine. To keep things lively, Bear has been sick with the same thing at the same time, only with bilateral ear infections to boot (times two, beginning of December and recurring last week).

Decisions, decisions - wonderful surprise of a monetary gift from my mom just big enough to treat myself to either a Garmin 305 or a wetsuit. Fencepost wedged firmly up my ass, though logic will likely fall in favor of wetsuit. (That choice will prevent hypothermia in all those Lake Michigan races I've been wanting to enter, and no matter how much I might believe to the contrary, I can't actually die from cool chart envy.)

Sylvia Milhone Bailey, 1902-2008

My great-grams, Sylvia (Milhone) Bailey, passed away last night at 106.

She always said she wasn't going until the Cubs won the World Series again. I guess she couldn't wait any more.

I had plans to go downstate last week in part to take Baby Bear to meet her, but the Bear and I both came down sick (we still are) and postponed our trip to next week.

Now there's an enormous snowstorm bearing down on us, with up to 11 inches of snow expected by tomorrow. Down home, they're expecting an inch of ice today with snow the next 4 days. And Wonderful Husband has no vacation time because of his surgery, and my relatives don't count for bereavement leave and ohbytheway, he's covering for 3 people on vacation. And we wouldn't be able to board the dogs on such short notice on a holiday weekend. And my fat pants are tight.

And did I mention the enormous guilt over not making it over to the hospital to see her when we were down for Grandma's funeral 5 weeks ago? While my cousins went to see her I had to take the Bear bad to my mom's for a desperately needed nap. And since WH was being forced to use vacation time we had to head right back home, so we didn't make any extra family visits.

Mom told me last week that when they were making arrangements for my Grandma they realized that the headstone for my great-grandpa and Grams will have to be redone. Back when he passed away (~1965) they thought they'd be proactive. So they started Grams' half of the stone. With a "19.." I find this endlessly amusing.

Here's hoping Grams can get WGN in heaven so she can see the Cubs come through for us some day.

Gear for Goals

If I'm going to reach my goal of doing an Olympic distance race this decade (not to mention the pact I made with mommymeepa to shoot for a HIM in 2011) I need to get my hands on a wetsuit, because around here the longer races are in Lake Michigan.

And as much insulation as I'm still packin, even I can still get hypothermia in Lake Michigan. In August.

I know there are a zillion wetsuit options out there and they all fit differently and I should try on a zillion and one to find the right one. But I've also noticed when my fellow curvy girls out there have been successful in their searches and wound up singing the praises of a wetsuit's fit. I just wish I'd actually written down the brands when I was noticing said singing.

So to all the voluptuous vixen athena goddesses out there... I'm begging you. Please tell me where to start my search?

Hitchin Back Up

It's time to admit (first to myself, then to you) that I've fallen off the wagon in a big way.

It wasn't voluntary and I went kicking and screaming.

I clung to the wagon by my fingertips and let it drag me for months. But I couldn't hang on any more, and a few months back I finally let go.

Even then, I stumbled along trying to keep it in my sights, hoping if I limped and crawled long enough I'd catch up eventually.

With every missed workout I could almost see the wagon getting smaller and farther away, until it finally dropped out of sight over the horizon.

Since then I've been drifting aimlessly, my weight creeping up and my mood plummeting down.

I've been beyond overwhelmed with everything life has thrown at me the last few months and trying to get back to my training routine hasn't even been on my radar, let alone my priority list.

The result is that I am, currently, a raging bitch. It has seriously got to be hell to live with me. I used to be proud of my patience. Now I don't even know the meaning of the word. I get up pissed off and I go to bed pissed off. I hate everyone. I think about kicking puppies. It's not good, people.

I miss the old me. The REAL me. The friendly, patient, happy me. The endorphined out me.

So I decided it's time for a shiny new wagon.

At the core of things I'm a pretty basic girl, so it can be a pretty basic wagon. I don't need fancy fold down seats and juice box holders. Or professional coaches and 12 week training cycles.

I'm going all the way back to basics. Five years ago, I found my way to a 5-7 workouts a week by starting with one treadmill session a week. I can do it again.

So, that's where I'll start. This week.



Here's hoping I find the way to my shiny new wagon by Christmas.

Happy Birthday Grams

My Great Grams - Sylvia (Milhone) Bailey turned 106 today.


She's in the front row, on the far left.

She's outlived her husband, all but one sibling and both her children. I'm grateful she's still in our lives, but feel bad about how lonely life must be for her.