Seeing bodies

On Monday we went to see Bodies: The Exhibition. If you haven't heard about it, check it out on this website. It's amazing. Seriously, to see the human body in action poses and how they all work together is so cool - especially as an athlete.

Walking through the exhibit, it's divided in to sections by body systems: circulatory, nervous, skeletal, muscular, digestive, reproductive. (I know there are more but I can't remember them all, biology was never a strong subject) The last one was the only tough one. I was totally unprepared for my emotional reaction to the section with unborn babies. I knew there were some in there... but when I got to that section, I skipped it. I totally veered the other direction. The exhibitors know it's a delicate subject so it's in a separate section that isn't part of the normal flow. It's off to the side with a word of caution about the subject matter. I don't know where it came from but there was definitely an emotional response I wasn't expecting.

New (to me) song

I recently discovered a song by Melissa Etheridge called "I Run for Life." It makes me want to go out and run. (or ride, but mostly run) Yeah, really. I get it, my husband doesn't. It's a good song, you should check it out. Go. Now. Find it.

Holding on

We have been working to get our house ready to host Christmas with the family. We are also having our carpet cleaned so that means lots of cleaning and organizing so it can all be cleaned. It's like Spring Cleaning in December. I have been going through some of my daughter's stuff to get it packed up.

This process means trips to the attic where I am reminded how much stuff is already up there. There are boxes and boxes of baby clothes and many baby items like the swing, bouncy seat and changing table. I can't get rid of them. In the back of my mind I think maybe we'll have more kids. My husband has been opposed to the idea since I gave birth to our second child. I was the opposite - as soon as I had her I thought I wanted more. Now, I'm not sure. I am happy with our two but I don't want to look back in 5 or 10 years and regret we didn't have any more.

A confession: I did not enjoy being pregnant... either time. I am happy with the results but I don't know if I'd want to do it a third (and maybe 4th) time. I wasn't one of those girls who 'mommy-ied' their dolls all the time or dreamed of having children. Once I found out the details of labor, I joked that I would adopt. That changed but thank God for epidurals.

We always have the option of adopting. My husband was adopted and I know he's thought about us adopting. I think if we ever wanted a boy we'd have to adopt..... otherwise we'd be one of those families with all girls!

I am rambling. When I first started thinking about this I had a better outline in my head but I can't seem to get it in the order I wanted. My thoughts are jumbled and I am distracted. I am having a hard time focusing this morning. I think I need another cup of coffee.

Just a Friday

I don't have any deep thoughts or wisdom to share today. (as of right now...) I don't know how often this is checked but I didn't want anyone to think I was missing. :) I had an entry written yesterday but have decided to hold on to that one for now. It's no big deal, just undecided as to whether I want to post it.

I'm attending a Christmas party with my daughter at her school today. I was there yesterday and her school also has a Christmas tree in the lobby. It's smaller than the one at the other school but it's there, nonetheless. I just find it interesting that in this age of PC, that any school would put up that kind of decoration. But, whatever....

Side effects

I was thinking about the last entry I posted and how it really affects me. Yeah, it is definitely creeping in but right now it doesn't affect me every moment of every day. I can still find humor in things and still laugh, I fight the urge to completely withdraw and I continue to write here.

Creeping

Someone described depression as the darkness that creeps in. For me, that is a very good description. Today I feel it waiting, lurking and creeping it's way in to my mind. In the shower, I let the water run over my head and my face wishing the water would wash it away. Where it comes from.... I don't know. Usually, I can see it coming, it snuck up on me this time.

The perfect race

This is another thing I wrote last year. After rereading it, some triathlon motivation has been stirred that I'd thought I lost.

I am in search of the perfect race. I think about it all the time. The kind of race that I’ll remember for the rest of my life. The kind of story that I’ll tell my grandchildren, about when their grandmother used to race. When I toe the line with the best in my sport and put up a decent showing. I don’t expect to ever actually win a race. No, I am in search of the perfect race for ME.

I start the day feeling fully trained and at my peak. When peaking for a race you understand that every fiber in your body is twitching and ready to go. You’ve worked for months for this moment, more hours than you can remember. Doing workouts in the dark, the cold, in the pool, pounding the road, on your bike. It was all for this moment; to get to race day raring to go with a game plan in mind, equipment ready and taking in the race atmosphere.

My transition area is set with bike shoes, helmet and sunglasses, my running shoes, race belt, visor and extra gels. Wetsuit on up to my waist and down to the water to wait for my start time. A quick dip to get the suit set and to make sure my goggles are ready and leak free. A few nervous moments of chit-chat with the other athletes and it’s time to go. The moment right before the gun goes off is probably one of the longest moments in the whole race. The athletes are ready to go but not quite ready to go. There’s a shot and everyone is off! There are bodies everywhere! Arms, legs, splashes, swim caps bobbing up and down... chaos. Everyone is fighting to get in a fairly small space like a mob trying to fit through a doorway; you expect to get bumped and do some bumping in return. Everyone eventually spreads out and you sight to keep on track, or risk swimming some extra meters. My stroke feels fluid; I’m catching the water with every arm stroke and gliding through the water like a torpedo towards a target, I swim. My heart rate is under control and my kick is effective. I feel great and try to minimize contact with other swimmers, they will only slow me down. The distance is covered with ease, 500, 1000, 1500 meters. I exit the water ready to get on the bike, feeling like I could have swam twice as long. I look back and see many of the same colored caps still bobbing in the water, not yet to a depth where they can stand.

To my first transition I take it with quick steps, this is a race after all! My motions are practiced, controlled and hurried. Off with the wetsuit, on with my sunglasses, helmet, and cycling shoes. Grab my bike and out of transition I go. Get on the bike, clip in and get up to speed. Following the course I pass with ease, avoiding blockers and drafters, I ride. My pedal stroke is fluid and even, I ride aero like the bike was built just for me. Taking water as I ride I will take a gel around mile 3 and again at mile 18. I feel the wind and it works to dry off my suit. Faster riders always pass me and that’s okay. I am racing my own race and there will always be someone faster. I take a water bottle at mile 12 and quickly get back up to speed. I have to avoid those people who have taken bottles and are swerving as they drink. Emptying my bottle in to my aerobottle I am ready to go. Taking the turns with ease the miles pass by quickly; miles 15, 18, 20, 22, 24.9.

Back to transition I try to not come in too quickly. I dismount before the line as a volunteer is yelling at riders where to stop. Off my bike, in to transition, I rack my bike, take off my helmet and my shoes. I grab a gel and stick it in my shorts pocket, pull on my running socks and shoes, grab my visor and race belt and off I go. Trying to keep my heart rate and breathing under control, I put on my visor and belt as I’m moving.

Wobbly legs are expected but the feeling quickly passes as my muscles remember that they have to run! The last leg of the race is often where races are won or lost. Many great swimmers have gained a big lead at the beginning only to see it slip away during the run. I try to keep my focus, I run. Some of the faster folks are already coming back to finish as I am starting the 10k run. I think, “just one mile at a time.” Run a mile, walk the water table, run another mile until I get to the turnaround at mile 3.1. Wow, I’ve almost made it, I am almost done. Only another 5k until the finish. I can do it! I try to encourage the people I see who seem to be having a tough time. This run is going great, I’m almost done.

I eat my last gel at the turnaround for a mental boost. I know that even if I feel like giving out, it won’t be because I didn’t have nutrition; even though it’s been 5 hours since I had something solid to eat.

I turn a corner and I can see the finish chute. I’m still running and I’m going to make my time goal! Where’s my husband? I don’t see him. Turning the corner to run the last 50 yards I pick up my pace to finish. I cross the finish line and there’s my husband cheering for me like I’d won the race. My timing chip is removed and I stumble around at the finish. I have given this race my all and I feel spent. Relief, elation, and fatigue all flood in at once. I have raced an Olympic distance triathlon and finished with a smile.

Today was my day. I raced my perfect race.

My cat

My 13 year old cat is sick. She's been sick a long time so this isn't a new development. Over a year ago, the vet told us she has cancer and wouldn't live 4 months. That was terrible news. It was like one day she was fine and the next day she had a tumor on her belly and was going to die suddenly. We considered our options (surgery not being one of them, not possible) and decided to keep her as long as her quality life was not being sacrificed. Well, here it is, 15 months later and we still have her. The tumor is still growing but at a much slower rate. But, I feel her days are numbered. I think the tumor has started to affect the rest of her body (and possibly her brain, or it's just because she's old) and we may have to face the inevitable soon. I told my husband I couldn't do it. I can not take her down the green mile.

I was telling a friend about my cat the other day and she offered a theory. She said she thought God gave us pets for companionship but the fact that they don't live very long is to teach us how to grieve. We can grieve over the loss of our pets to learn how to handle it when it happens to someone we love. I have no idea if she's right but I like her theory anyway.

What would you do?

This is actually something I wrote awhile ago but never did anything with.

I just read an article that was heartwrenching and insightful. It was about a woman, age 33, who is dealing with a possible preventive mastectomy. The article went through the whole process of her decision and what she has had to deal with. She is one of the 25,000 women who test positive for a gene mutation that indicates they have a 60-90 percent chance of developing breast cancer and/or ovarian cancer. I have heard about this before but to read an article with first person perspective makes it seem more real.

Having no kids, yet, she has to make the very difficult decision whether to have her breasts removed and all natural tissue with no hope of ever breastfeeding. But on the flip side, with her breasts removed, she has the same probability of everyone else of developing another cancer and may live to be an old woman – cancer free. She can be assured that she won’t develop breast cancer and have to deal with the cancer, radiation and chemo, and a possible mastectomy anyway. She is torn by her decision as family members don’t understand her “self-mutilation” when she has not yet developed cancer. She opts for the surgery and reconstruction but has to fly from her Iowa home to Chicago to have it done. Her mother, a breast cancer survivor, accompanies her on her trip and can understand why her youngest daughter has made this decision but wasn’t immediately on board. Her mother didn’t develop her cancer until the age of 48 and her mother (the woman’s grandmother) didn’t develop her cancer until her 70’s. Having already had children, the decision for her mother to have the mastectomy was an easy one. For her daughter, she couldn’t give her approval right away. It took her daughter encouraging her to investigate at what age other women in the family developed their cancer. With other family members developing cancer at ages 33, 34, and 35, it was clear her risk was higher.

Would I do the same thing? Would I have a voluntary mastectomy if I knew I could possibly develop cancer at some time in my life? I don’t know. Nothing is certain. Having already had children the answer is mostly clear; I want to see my children grow up.

It made me start to think about how our identity, as women, is tied to having breasts. We have them, men and children do not. It is the one thing that makes us unique as adult women and we are “bound” by them. Men obsess over them, advertisers make money because of them, products abound on the marketplace because of them… It is one part of our bodies that is almost always obvious to everyone. Nobody knows how big your liver is, for example. For us, they are present and accounted for all the time. As teenagers, we learn to manage them when body image is such a big deal. Many try to minimize their appearance because of embarrassment and teasing; while others flaunt them like they’re going out of style. It is often a difficult transition from embarrassment to acceptance.

It also got me thinking about my own self image. I am conscious of my chest size and my feelings about it. My chest has never been something I was particularly proud or fond of but as it (seemingly) disappears… it makes me sad. Having an outward symbol of still being a woman is important. I never realized it until they got smaller. When I was breastfeeding, they were gigantic (for me) and very uncomfortable. Now, because of diet and exercise, they are the smallest they have ever been. A glance in the mirror shows the breasts of a much younger (and probably thinner) woman. I admit, it is much easier to manage them for sports and triathlons when they’re smaller. There are tons of women who wish they had my issues. But I no longer fill out dresses, shirts, and some bras. And to make matters worse, they are saggy. No longer perky, breastfeeding has made them droopy. My husband says he likes their size, but there’s hardly anything there. It makes me wonder, how much smaller can they get? Will they disappear, leaving only saggy skin behind?

I’m not sure why this struck such a chord with me today. I guess I’m in an insightful mood. It’s something I’ve thought about before when I’ve seen mastectomy swimsuits in catalogs but never really gave it a whole lot of thought. It is a difficult topic for most women as we often take our breasts for granted, never giving them a second thought. We assume that we will always have them and we won’t be one of the ones that develops breast cancer. Although heart disease is the number one killer of women, of all ages, breast cancer is much more talked about. Maybe it’s a fear thing because deep down we all know our identity is tied to our breasts. We don’t know how to act with the thought of not having them and sympathize with those that have been affected.

What would you do if you knew there was a 60-90% chance you could develop breast cancer? Would you have them removed? Would you go through painful reconstructive surgery to regain that identity? It is a difficult decision, even if you’ve already had children. We are tied to our breasts, whether we like it or not.

Peception and reality

Perception is a funny thing. The American Heritage Dictionary has this as their 3rd definition of perception:

a. Recognition and interpretation of sensory stimuli based chiefly on memory.

b. The neurological processes by which such recognition and interpretation are effected

We all have our own unique set of emotions, experiences and genetics to draw upon to shape our perceptions. Nobody's is the same; yes, they can be similar but always different. And we all try to manipulate other people's perceptions to a certain degree. I do it too.

Before this blog, I think I had perfected the art of managing perception. From the outside, it seems like my life is "perfect." Okay, maybe not perfect but I have everything that many people hope for: a loving, supportive spouse, two beautiful children, a nice house, two cars.... If anyone asked, I'd say everything was good and nothing was wrong. There are a slew of excuses stored in the back of my mind for almost any question. The thing about that is I never hid them as well as I'd thought. I think I knew it too, which is probably why almost everyone was kept at a distance. (and most still are) If someone really knew the truth then I'd be exposed as a fraud or an imposter - like I shouldn't be feeling this way or I'm not the one who should be leading this life.

It's like that with my writing too, this is mostly stream of consciousness writing and I don't view it as anything special or amazing. Someone else may think it's great because they feel it is beyond their level; whereas with me and another blog I read, I think her writing is amazing and I view her as a talented writer. It's all about perception and what we view as reality.

Christmas cards

As Holiday traditions go, I think the act of sending Christmas cards is a strange one. For many, sending out cards is a tradition they wouldn't dare skip. Of course, everyone you've ever known would want to see pictures of your little darlings in their fanciest (or ugliest, whichever the case may be) Christmas outfits. The strangest part is that you don't have contact with these people the rest of the year, not even an email. My mother still gets a card and one of those family letters (don't get me started on those!) from my dad's cousin - and my parents have been divorced since 1983. My dad doesn't even have contact with that cousin... yeah, I think it's a bit weird, too.

When I got married, this is a tradition that I picked up as well. Before we were married, it wasn't something we did. (being just out of college probably had something to do with it) And I find myself falling in to the trap of sending out pictures of my kids as well. I can't help it. I could send out normal cards and sign our names and be done with it - but nooooo, I have to get my kids dressed up in their Christmas outfits as well and attempt to take a cute picture of them in front of the tree or the fireplace. Why do I put myself through the aggravation? Why, why, why? It's not that they're uncooperative, it's more that they are very cooperative and want to play around and have me take 100 pictures of them. Some of the pictures did come out pretty cute. So, I guess everyone I know on facebook will be getting one of those cards. ;)

The thing that prompted this was the arrival of a card from my husband's 'big' boss and his family. It is a card with pictures of his twin girls on the front. I would assume that most of the people in the office got one but I don't know. His office probably has 100 employees, did they all get the card? Does it matter? No, I was just thinking about it. Maybe it's different because this boss (he has like 4, think Office Space) is a guy who graduated from the same HS as us, just a few years before. I am resisting the urge to send them one of my cards. I feel like I should but they weren't on my original list. Maybe I'll just give one to his wife when I go to their house for a playdate. (did you catch the irony? I know it's subtle)

New territory

I'm not sure where to go from here. And not literally, I mean figuratively. I feel like I am at a crossroads and I have to make a choice. One way leads to living like I have been, denying what's going on and trying to pretend everything is fine; the way that feels "safer" but with possible consequences I don't want to think about... The other way is a totally different direction, and definitely scarier, with an unchartered course and results I know nothing about. At this very moment, I feel like I'm leaning toward one direction but lacking that final push. I'd really like to make it through the rest of the holidays before making the final choice. It will be difficult regardless of which way I choose.

A gym is a strange place

Really, there are some weird folks at the gym..... or maybe it's just that the quirks that we all have when primping are obvious because of the locker room atmosphere. I think that must be it. I also think there's quite a culture difference that is very obvious at my gym. We refer to it as the "Asian Invasion." And there's nothing derogatory intended, there are a lot of Asian people at our gym as a reflection of the local population. The thing that strikes me almost every time I'm there is how the asian women seem to have absolutely no modesty. I mean really, does the 70 year old asian woman really have to walk around the locker room nekkid? Seriously. And they get in the steam room together and gab away in some language that I can't make any sense of - for all I know, they're talking about me and my mom hair.

The other thing about the gym is the influx of prima-donnas. Great, you came for a workout (with full make-up) and you get on the little eliptical-thingy and talk on your cell phone for a little bit and then play around with your ipod. You may do a little more, "towel off" (which is funny because there's no way you really broke a sweat) and then procede to go to the locker room and lay all your shit out all over the floor and bench by your locker and get ready, in full make-up again, naturally. Heaven forbid I have the locker near you. Oh, no, don't mind me, I'll squeeze in and get my bag out and go to another section because (of course!) the prima-donna cannot have her space infringed upon.

They make me crazy, can you tell? It's a good thing I pretty much stick to the daytime hours so I only have to deal with the naked invasion.

Living in Bethlehem

There's a thing about living in a small town named Bethlehem during Christmas time. The post office is a mad-house with people driving from far away to have their cards stamped as having come from Bethlehem, yeah... really. The town (I think they do it, I think it's city property) even puts up a manger scene in the little square; it sits below a huge star that stays there year 'round. And the local school system can get away with some stuff that other systems wouldn't touch. For example, last night I took my daughter to girl scouts and they meet at the local Bethlehem Elementary. (not where my daughter attends) We walked in the lobby and the first thing I see is one of those dancing Santas. (you know which one, the one that shakes his hips like Elvis) Next, I see a 10 foot Christmas tree right next to the office. We live in a fairly conservative, Christian area and this kind of stuff is the norm. Now, I'm all about celebrating Christmas but this sort of bothered me. This realization struck me as odd because at the same time I think it's lame to call the party they have at my daughter's school a 'Holiday Party' where they exchange gifts and I know they'll talk about Christmas. Last week she even brought home a page to color about the 12 days of Christmas that was a picture of Santa. In other parts of the country, there is no way in hell this kind of stuff would fly. Heck, I don't even think it would fly in neighboring counties. But the people out here are totally fine with it.

Do I think they should take the stuff down at the school? Not necessarily. Should there at least be a Menorrah on display as well? Yes. It's not so much as I'm trying to be PC, it's more about fair treatment. There might be one Jewish kid at the school. (my husband doubts it, he said in an area like this, everyone knows who the Jewish kid is) I'm actually torn about the subject and that could be a whole long soapbox kind of entry. (not going there today) I told my husband about it when we got home and his response was, "That won't last long." I agreed but now I'm not so sure. I think it's expected, and accepted, when living in a town named Bethlehem.

Funny stuff

Some of my favorites, in no particular order:
ding-dong, quit fartin' around, stupidyhead, don't monkey with that, because I'm the mom, what does the QT stand for at quicktrip? (a very blonde moment), where the hell is my cell phone?! (as I'm talking on it at the same time), stoopid, don't fart on your sister's head, dumb-dumb (almost always directed at the dog), you can have it - did you bring your money?, after you're done talking to Ariel Mermaid- I need my phone back, why does the case smell like strawberries?, DON'T cut your hair with those, clean up your mess, who put their milk in the freezer?, no cookies for breakfast- you have to wait until 10, what (the hell??) are you watching?, oh my goodness!, why is there glitter on the floor?, yes I'm having another cup of coffee, why'd the chicken cross the road?, well, where did you last see it?, yes... Santa does come down the chimney and no... I don't know how, make a list for Santa, don't eat that now, you tell me, what time does the clock say?, did you flush?, I don't know where the [fill in any random stuffed animal or doll] is today, why do we have to change your bed again?.... you get the idea.... :)

The thing about guilt

I was reminded yesterday that as women, we carry around a lot of guilt. It must be inherent because I don't think men (generally speaking, of course) have that problem. We carry around guilt about our past, the present and sometimes the future... guilt about tasks and chores finished and unfinished... guilt about something we said or didn't say... guilt about our feelings... the list goes on... It's a heavy burden to bear. It's no surprise women are almost twice as likely to have depression than men. Those kind of things just don't bother most men. Biologically, it makes sense. If as hunters and gatherers, they wallowed in any kind of self-pity, then nothing would get done. For women, it seems a bit of wallowing morphs in to action. We can stay idle for only so long.

I carry around my fair share as well; some of it I can explain but most of it I can't. It seems some of it has been there for so long that I wouldn't know what it would feel like to not have it. Right now I feel some guilt about how I feel and I don't know why. Last week I apologized for how I felt and at the time it seemed appropriate but now I'm not sure. Today, it seems like a silly thing to apologize for but I remember on that particular day, I really felt bad about it.

Today I am hopeful. Taking a step, no matter how small, to reach out is at least a start. It's better to do it sooner rather than later, there's no way to tell what next week will bring.

Christmas fun

On Sunday, after my husband got home from being out of town, we went in search of our Christmas tree. We go to a local farm and cut it down. Upon arrival, we were greeted by the owner and she filled us in as to what section we could cut from, what they were offering and sent us on our way. It's such a fun environment. They offer free hot chocolate and cider, s'more kits and a fire pit to roast the marshmallows, fresh popcorn (a big deal to the girls), various local products (jams and such), they have goats and stale bread to feed them and of course the trees and wreaths. We got our tree from the same place last year but that time we didn't bring extra cash so we had to convince the girls to leave without doing any of the fun stuff - a small mistake that we didn't duplicate this year.

I enjoyed the whole experience and it is something fun to do together. I'm actually enjoying some of the cheesy Christmas family stuff. The girls and I put up some decorations the other day and we made a special ice cream treat, all while listening to Christmas music. On Saturday, I was over at my in-laws house and we went over to see their town's Christmas tree lighting. The girls saw Santa come in on the fire truck, the square was lit with lights and it was appropriately chilly for a tree lighting. I know I said I didn't want to put on a happy face for forced family fun but I should have been more specific - I wasn't in the mood for extended family fun. ;-) Christmas stuff with my husband and the girls is different.

Round and round

I find myself in a cycle that I can't get out of.... no, not a bicycle. A cycle of isolation. I'm not comfortable reaching out but the longer I keep myself isolated, the harder it is. I even find myself shying away from certain social situations. I still need to seriously consider what I need to do. I think actually admitting (out loud) that I may need outside help may be the biggest step, and arguably, also the toughest.

Today is another day

I want to apologize for always being down. The two people who I know might read this have to be tired of reading by now. Today is better. The sun is shining, it's not too cold and I've talked to both my older stepsisters (who live in Colorado) this week. They were both phone calls that were totally unexpected. I had no idea when I answered the phone - we are one of the two families that still don't have caller id. Anyway, it was great to catch up. I was talking to one of them today and she asks me if I was okay because I sounded down. It caught me off guard because our conversation seemed normal to me. I lied and said I was just tired from being sick earlier this week. Why couldn't I tell her? I wanted to but I wasn't prepared to have that type of conversation with her, or anyone.