Dan's reading Paying for College without Going Broke.
I'm reading Help! Surviving a Baby's First Year.
And, in case you're still not sure what is going on, we're having A New Baby.
We can't wait for October 9, 2012!
Saturday, April 7, 2012
An Exciting Surprise
Dan's reading Paying for College without Going Broke.
I'm reading Help! Surviving a Baby's First Year.
And, in case you're still not sure what is going on, we're having A New Baby.
We can't wait for October 9, 2012!
Sunday, January 29, 2012
Knitting Away
I've completed a few knitting projects that I thought were especially cute that I wanted to share with you!
The first project was three hats, commissioned by my sister-in-law for her two kids (my niece and nephew) and her sister. She told me what she thought would be cute and shared a few pictures on Pintrest, and this is what I came up with!
There was a zebra, a koala, and a dinosaur. I was able to take a few pictures of the kids modeling their hats during Christmas Cabin.
The other two boys are wearing their Christmas hats from last year. :) Yay!
The next project I cast on was for an adult sized sweater. I'm making Tea Leaves Cardigan using Cascade 220 Quarto yarn, a present from my mom from Christmas. I made my first ever swatch to make sure the sweater was not either too huge nor too small. I've cast on, now, and I'm 29 rows in. I'll keep you posted on my progress.
Last but not least, I knit my nephew Ben a dino hat for his first birthday! This was the third attempt at a hat this winter, and this time, finally, it fit! The problem wasn't Ben's head, but rather that I didn't use a pattern any of those times. The final time I based it on a pattern, but I was still doing some improvisation, but fortunately it fit. Phew! A picture of it on Ben's adorable head is forthcoming.
And, on a related note, I'm thinking about starting a little shop in Etsy to sell knitted children's hats. I enjoy it and it might let me make a little extra money. I'll let you know when I make the plunge!
The first project was three hats, commissioned by my sister-in-law for her two kids (my niece and nephew) and her sister. She told me what she thought would be cute and shared a few pictures on Pintrest, and this is what I came up with!
There was a zebra, a koala, and a dinosaur. I was able to take a few pictures of the kids modeling their hats during Christmas Cabin.
The other two boys are wearing their Christmas hats from last year. :) Yay!
The next project I cast on was for an adult sized sweater. I'm making Tea Leaves Cardigan using Cascade 220 Quarto yarn, a present from my mom from Christmas. I made my first ever swatch to make sure the sweater was not either too huge nor too small. I've cast on, now, and I'm 29 rows in. I'll keep you posted on my progress.
Last but not least, I knit my nephew Ben a dino hat for his first birthday! This was the third attempt at a hat this winter, and this time, finally, it fit! The problem wasn't Ben's head, but rather that I didn't use a pattern any of those times. The final time I based it on a pattern, but I was still doing some improvisation, but fortunately it fit. Phew! A picture of it on Ben's adorable head is forthcoming.
And, on a related note, I'm thinking about starting a little shop in Etsy to sell knitted children's hats. I enjoy it and it might let me make a little extra money. I'll let you know when I make the plunge!
Monday, January 16, 2012
Looking at 2012
The first time I remember making a resolution for the new year was when I was in middle school. At that time, The Brink -- our middle and high school youth group -- did an all nighter at the church. It pretty much involved lots of pop, pizza, movies, and silly dares such as running outside in bare feet. Yet in the midst of the craziness, probably before we popped in our traditional girl movie, Little Women, I pulled out a new journal to record my goals and aspirations for the year.
A new year always brings a feeling of quiet anticipation, just like before my pen hits the first page of a new journal. The story of my life will soon be written there, but I don't know what it is yet. If I were really awesome, I would try to coordinate a new journal with each new year, but my rate of filling pages ebbs and flows over the course of the year, and I inevitably finish a journal mid-year, with a new journal to start on an inauspicious day such as March 13 or September 25.
This year I didn't really make an resolutions. Recently I made a 30-before-30 list, so that gives me some goals to work towards over the next few years, but I didn't want to make a resolution just because the clock was ticking. But last week, I was challenged to pick a word that would highlight an idea that I would like to dwell on this year. The word that has emerged from my contemplation has been humility.
Humility, synonymous with lowliness, meekness, submissiveness, an antonym of pride. Yikes, right? In our world, humility is not a valued trait. We'd like athletes to be humble, but as for us, the regular folks, we want to be revered and loved. We're encouraged to endorse ourselves, to highlight our best characteristics, and to be blunt about our best qualities. But as someone who is not of this world (1 Peter 2:11), I'm called to live a life of humility, mirroring Christ's humility.
"In your relationships with one another, have the same attitude of mind Christ Jesus had: Who, being in very nature God, did not consider equality with God something to be used to his own advantage; rather, he made himself nothing, by taking the very nature of a servant..." (Philippians 2:5-7)
There are an abundance of verses about humility, and I could copy a bunch of them down, but let's be honest: if Jesus exemplified it, that's what I need to emmulate. Enough said. For me, as this year begins, humility means thinking of others more than myself. It means using my gifts and talents for the glory of God, not for my own gratification. It means serving others, day in and day out. It means making myself nothing that He may be glorified.
When all is said and done in 2012, I want to look back and see how the year was characterized by the indwelling of the attitude of humility in my life. I'm praying that it grows within me, even though that's a terrifying prayer. Growth is worth the discomfort, and I'm anxious to becoming more like Christ each day. Life is fleeting, much too short to remain stagnant. Therefore, let 2012 be filled with growth!
A new year always brings a feeling of quiet anticipation, just like before my pen hits the first page of a new journal. The story of my life will soon be written there, but I don't know what it is yet. If I were really awesome, I would try to coordinate a new journal with each new year, but my rate of filling pages ebbs and flows over the course of the year, and I inevitably finish a journal mid-year, with a new journal to start on an inauspicious day such as March 13 or September 25.
This year I didn't really make an resolutions. Recently I made a 30-before-30 list, so that gives me some goals to work towards over the next few years, but I didn't want to make a resolution just because the clock was ticking. But last week, I was challenged to pick a word that would highlight an idea that I would like to dwell on this year. The word that has emerged from my contemplation has been humility.
Humility, synonymous with lowliness, meekness, submissiveness, an antonym of pride. Yikes, right? In our world, humility is not a valued trait. We'd like athletes to be humble, but as for us, the regular folks, we want to be revered and loved. We're encouraged to endorse ourselves, to highlight our best characteristics, and to be blunt about our best qualities. But as someone who is not of this world (1 Peter 2:11), I'm called to live a life of humility, mirroring Christ's humility.
"In your relationships with one another, have the same attitude of mind Christ Jesus had: Who, being in very nature God, did not consider equality with God something to be used to his own advantage; rather, he made himself nothing, by taking the very nature of a servant..." (Philippians 2:5-7)
There are an abundance of verses about humility, and I could copy a bunch of them down, but let's be honest: if Jesus exemplified it, that's what I need to emmulate. Enough said. For me, as this year begins, humility means thinking of others more than myself. It means using my gifts and talents for the glory of God, not for my own gratification. It means serving others, day in and day out. It means making myself nothing that He may be glorified.
When all is said and done in 2012, I want to look back and see how the year was characterized by the indwelling of the attitude of humility in my life. I'm praying that it grows within me, even though that's a terrifying prayer. Growth is worth the discomfort, and I'm anxious to becoming more like Christ each day. Life is fleeting, much too short to remain stagnant. Therefore, let 2012 be filled with growth!
Wednesday, December 21, 2011
Epic Dodgeball
Tap, tap. Does this thing still work? Sorry for the major break in posting. I've been too busy having fun to post about it over the past few months, but today's experience was just so epic that it calls for a blog post.
As many of you know, I teach seventh graders. In light of the holiday season, our school collected cans for a local food pantry. I announced it to my fourth period math class, and for the first six days of the can drive, we had six cans. The six I brought in. Then, all of the sudden, we picked up steam! Kids started raiding their parents' pantries for legitimate items, and at the first count, we were in first place! Then things started getting competitive. Due to the (supposed? actual?) peanut butter shortage, jars of peanut butters were worth 5 cans. Other fourth period classes started to catch up and pass our total. At the next count, we were in sixth place.
Now, middle school students are altruistic, but much more generous when they have incentive. And this was the carrot we were dangling: a dodgeball tourney for the top 6 teams. My kids were psyched to be in the top 6 teams, but they knew their position was precarious, so the day before the final count, one girl implored all of the other kids to bring in peanut butter. Another kid offered to stop at Aldy to buy it if they gave him money. (They also had their dander up because a couple of 8th graders came into my room pretending to count cans for student council and stole them from my class! Fortunately they were caught and their cans were returned. Anyways, that made my students pretty mad, once the word got around school.)
So the kids brought in more cans, more jars of peanut butter, and more swiped goods from their cupboards, but on the final day, when an email was sent around school, it revealed that we were in 7th place, one place short of qualifying for the tournament. Oh well, I figured. We wouldn't have gotten too far anyways.
But then, my telephone rang. It was the principal (not principle, how most of my kids like to spell this position), weighing the option of expanding the field to 8 teams, having two rat-tail matches on the morning of the tourney. I knew my kids would be pumped, so I readily agreed.
Pumped they were, once the principal announced that the top 8 teams would qualify. On Monday, we picked a team color to wear (black) and a table of boys dreamed up strategies on their mini-white boards between math problems. I really did not think that my class had any chance of getting out of the rat-tail match, but it was fun to be silly with them. Other classes were taking it to the top with tie-dyed tee-shirts and pow-pows of planning.
Fast-forward to this morning. We were playing the art teacher's class, and can I admit that I was a little relieved to note that a good athlete was on crutches? (Get better soon, kiddo!) The rules were stated, the horn buzzed, and our team took them down! My kids did look pretty intimidating with their eye black on and their black outfits, granted, but I was amazed at their athleticism! Throwing, dodging, catching, all with grace and ease! (Note: I wish they could be so amazing at math.)
So, they made it to the next round, which I wasn't able to watch. We were up against 8th graders (yikes) so I figured that was it. But... following the next round, we had made it past both of our opponents, and we were facing the tie-dye-tee-shirt-making team, in front of the whole school at the end of the day.
The game was on, Team S---- vs. Team B-------.
Following 7th period, I walk into a packed gym, wearing my high school soccer jersey since it was the right color for the tourney. (Thank goodness I bought that 8 years ago! I've used it sooo many times.) The kids were talking strategy and getting themselves all riled up for the game. As the crowd filled in, chants started.
The game began, and for a while, it looked like my team had the right strategy: get out the best players on the other team ASAP. I was cheering like a mad woman. But then the tides turned, and we were down to one player. The other team was hurling balls at her from the 3 point line and she dodged, admirably. Then, lo and behold, she caught one and our best player was back in!
I thought we had a chance, but then she slipped while dodging a ball and it hit her hair. OUT. One kid left, against five formidable opponents. But all of the balls were on his side of the line and he became the aggressor. He made them back up to behind their 3 point line and bam! Bam! Bam! Several throws letter, they were OUT. Our class was the school champs!!!! High fives ensued, but I was immediately torn away: the victors had to face the staff team, which I had agreed to play on, hence why I was wearing my black FHS soccer jersey.
I figured I could be a double agent, or at least I would be an easy out for my kids. At the same time, I didn't want to be the first out, so my strategy was to hide behind the big guys on my team. I was just goofing off, scurrying away from the throws, squealing whenever anything came my way. And then, miraculously, I caught a ball.
Now, most of you know that I am not a star athlete. I didn't earn many points on the soccer field or running track. My first year of being on the varsity soccer team I was the back-up goalie who didn't even play when the goalie was out! I'm fit, but I am not an athlete. (Hence why my parents were shocked that I won an award in high school for being a scholar athlete! "Really? YOU?")
It must have been the combination of fats and sugars from my last day of school parties, the florescent lights, and the previous chants of the crowd, but I was on fire. I caught balls. I dodged them using an amazing spinning move. I blocked them using a dodgeball I just caught. I was UNSTOPPABLE.
Until I launched a ball at one of my students, first ball I threw of the game. My kiddo looked like she caught it (apparently she didn't), and I turned away half-disappointed, half-hoping my kids would win. Then two more balls smacked me and I was out. For a few moments, it looked as if my kids might be able to withstand the attack the staff was mounting, but soon, it was all over. Staff was victorious, and I was high-fiving my kids, telling them great game. They were disappointed, but they knew they had done an outstanding job.
As the principal was giving the pep-talk, my fellow teammates awarded me MVP, an honor I am not accustomed to receiving for my athletic endeavors. And on the way out, I felt like a rock star again. I high-fived at least 100 kids, fist bumped the opponents from Team B------, got smiles and cheers from 6th graders I don't know but hopefully will have next year, and generally felt loved and admired by all.
It was an awesome day. I think I still have an adrenaline high.
Even better? Now we have break.
As many of you know, I teach seventh graders. In light of the holiday season, our school collected cans for a local food pantry. I announced it to my fourth period math class, and for the first six days of the can drive, we had six cans. The six I brought in. Then, all of the sudden, we picked up steam! Kids started raiding their parents' pantries for legitimate items, and at the first count, we were in first place! Then things started getting competitive. Due to the (supposed? actual?) peanut butter shortage, jars of peanut butters were worth 5 cans. Other fourth period classes started to catch up and pass our total. At the next count, we were in sixth place.
Now, middle school students are altruistic, but much more generous when they have incentive. And this was the carrot we were dangling: a dodgeball tourney for the top 6 teams. My kids were psyched to be in the top 6 teams, but they knew their position was precarious, so the day before the final count, one girl implored all of the other kids to bring in peanut butter. Another kid offered to stop at Aldy to buy it if they gave him money. (They also had their dander up because a couple of 8th graders came into my room pretending to count cans for student council and stole them from my class! Fortunately they were caught and their cans were returned. Anyways, that made my students pretty mad, once the word got around school.)
So the kids brought in more cans, more jars of peanut butter, and more swiped goods from their cupboards, but on the final day, when an email was sent around school, it revealed that we were in 7th place, one place short of qualifying for the tournament. Oh well, I figured. We wouldn't have gotten too far anyways.
But then, my telephone rang. It was the principal (not principle, how most of my kids like to spell this position), weighing the option of expanding the field to 8 teams, having two rat-tail matches on the morning of the tourney. I knew my kids would be pumped, so I readily agreed.
Pumped they were, once the principal announced that the top 8 teams would qualify. On Monday, we picked a team color to wear (black) and a table of boys dreamed up strategies on their mini-white boards between math problems. I really did not think that my class had any chance of getting out of the rat-tail match, but it was fun to be silly with them. Other classes were taking it to the top with tie-dyed tee-shirts and pow-pows of planning.
Fast-forward to this morning. We were playing the art teacher's class, and can I admit that I was a little relieved to note that a good athlete was on crutches? (Get better soon, kiddo!) The rules were stated, the horn buzzed, and our team took them down! My kids did look pretty intimidating with their eye black on and their black outfits, granted, but I was amazed at their athleticism! Throwing, dodging, catching, all with grace and ease! (Note: I wish they could be so amazing at math.)
So, they made it to the next round, which I wasn't able to watch. We were up against 8th graders (yikes) so I figured that was it. But... following the next round, we had made it past both of our opponents, and we were facing the tie-dye-tee-shirt-making team, in front of the whole school at the end of the day.
The game was on, Team S---- vs. Team B-------.
Following 7th period, I walk into a packed gym, wearing my high school soccer jersey since it was the right color for the tourney. (Thank goodness I bought that 8 years ago! I've used it sooo many times.) The kids were talking strategy and getting themselves all riled up for the game. As the crowd filled in, chants started.
The game began, and for a while, it looked like my team had the right strategy: get out the best players on the other team ASAP. I was cheering like a mad woman. But then the tides turned, and we were down to one player. The other team was hurling balls at her from the 3 point line and she dodged, admirably. Then, lo and behold, she caught one and our best player was back in!
I thought we had a chance, but then she slipped while dodging a ball and it hit her hair. OUT. One kid left, against five formidable opponents. But all of the balls were on his side of the line and he became the aggressor. He made them back up to behind their 3 point line and bam! Bam! Bam! Several throws letter, they were OUT. Our class was the school champs!!!! High fives ensued, but I was immediately torn away: the victors had to face the staff team, which I had agreed to play on, hence why I was wearing my black FHS soccer jersey.
I figured I could be a double agent, or at least I would be an easy out for my kids. At the same time, I didn't want to be the first out, so my strategy was to hide behind the big guys on my team. I was just goofing off, scurrying away from the throws, squealing whenever anything came my way. And then, miraculously, I caught a ball.
Now, most of you know that I am not a star athlete. I didn't earn many points on the soccer field or running track. My first year of being on the varsity soccer team I was the back-up goalie who didn't even play when the goalie was out! I'm fit, but I am not an athlete. (Hence why my parents were shocked that I won an award in high school for being a scholar athlete! "Really? YOU?")
It must have been the combination of fats and sugars from my last day of school parties, the florescent lights, and the previous chants of the crowd, but I was on fire. I caught balls. I dodged them using an amazing spinning move. I blocked them using a dodgeball I just caught. I was UNSTOPPABLE.
Until I launched a ball at one of my students, first ball I threw of the game. My kiddo looked like she caught it (apparently she didn't), and I turned away half-disappointed, half-hoping my kids would win. Then two more balls smacked me and I was out. For a few moments, it looked as if my kids might be able to withstand the attack the staff was mounting, but soon, it was all over. Staff was victorious, and I was high-fiving my kids, telling them great game. They were disappointed, but they knew they had done an outstanding job.
As the principal was giving the pep-talk, my fellow teammates awarded me MVP, an honor I am not accustomed to receiving for my athletic endeavors. And on the way out, I felt like a rock star again. I high-fived at least 100 kids, fist bumped the opponents from Team B------, got smiles and cheers from 6th graders I don't know but hopefully will have next year, and generally felt loved and admired by all.
It was an awesome day. I think I still have an adrenaline high.
Even better? Now we have break.
Thursday, July 21, 2011
This IS my first rodeo...
Some of you may have been aware of my late evening hatched decision to participate (I hesitate to use race) in a triathlon via the facebook, but if you weren't aware, I participated in a triathlon last night. I will start from the beginning, which is actually around September 2009. My friend Ryan convinced me to go to Madison to watch the Ironman Wisconsin. He wanted to check it out and Madison is a good place to eat/visit, so we went. Ryan had in his head that he wanted to do an Ironman, he still may, I don't know. As we stood around the finish area we watched as folks came down the chute with big smiles on their faces, after swimming 2.4 miles, biking 112, and running 26.2. I saw some folks who didn't look like they should have been able to do it, but you know what? They did. They got to hear the announcer say, "Mr. or Mrs. So and so, you are an Ironman" As the announcer kept saying that to those folks after moving themselves 140.6 miles I got some goosebumps. I also realized that to them, that race was the easy part, the training is what was crazy hard. It was nearly 10pm and those people had been moving since 7:00am. It was then and there that a crazy idea hatched inside my head, "I want to finish an Ironman", maybe my heart said that, either way, something inside of me thought it was cool. After leaving Madison I still thought it really cool, and even thought it cool before I went, and I had done some informal training with a guy at work who has done Ironmans. He showed me the swim stroke, gave me some practice cards, and that was about it. I never did even a little triathlon. I didn't swim, but I did start running. I had already been road biking. Enough of that, onto yesterday.
The triathlon started Wednesday at 6:30pm, a small local race ran by Speedy-Feet, a local timing company. I decided to do this race around 9:00pm on Tuesday. A 1/2 mile swim, a 20.7 mile bike, and a 3.6 mile run. I messaged my friend who had done triathlons before and asked if he had tri shorts as I didn't want to swim in my bike shorts. He had them, and goggles. Oh ya, goggles, those would be useful. They will be on the porch he says, I plan on picked them up in the morning. I go to bed knowing that my lunch hour tomorrow will be spent getting my bike ready, figuring out what to wear, and learning where the heck this race even was as I had never even been in the area before.
In the morning I drive to said friends house to grab the shorts and goggles. He was leaving for a run and wished me luck. If he was more awake he probably would have laughed at me, as he thought I was going to drown/pass out. At lunch I get my things together. I come home from work at 5 and practice changing my shorts with a towel rapped around me as I decided to swim in one pair of shorts, bike in bike shorts, and run in running shorts. The tri shorts that were lent to me had a hole in them, and the elastic wasn't working so well. All is well. Hilary got home at 5:25, I load the car, and we leave. (we only have one car) The race is at 6:30 and we are about 45+ minutes away.
I race there in the car, find it, pay my fee, and line up. People had already left but this was a casual race with no mass start. I put on the chip for timing on my ankle and hope it doesn't fall off. I ask about the swim course and start, no worries, no butterflies or anything. I had no time to worry.
I swim, trying to practice my triathlon swim, minimal legs, jet into the water near your ear, and hold the long stroke. Someone passes me. I keep swimming, looking up to make sure I am going the correct way. I turn the buoy and head back. I pass someone, nice. I swim keeping the guy in the red swim cap to my right, making sure I can stay with him. Soon I exit the water, big gut and all.
I change into my biking shorts, put on my shoes, eat a fun sized snickers and drink some water. Onto the bike course. I think, "I sure hope it is marked well, I don't have a clue where I am going". My legs are tired, but turning. I focus on keeping my elbows bent and my head up. I pass a few people before I get out on the road. I refuse to look at the mileage on my bike computer, just the time. At the 5 mile marker painted on the road I am going slower than I thought I could go, but by mile 10 I've passes another 5-6 people and I'm feeling good, legs loose, high cadence. I pass more people. At mile 15 I'm going downhill and loving it, booyah racing! I shift as I'm feeling great and high tail it back to the transition area, passing another 5-6 folks, nice bikes included. Both of my bottles are empty.
I wanted to slow down because I knew I still had to run, but felt great and going fast is fun. The run is only 3.6 miles, I can suffer through it. I was a bit worried as it was super hot out.
I exit the transition area and start running, grabbing water to pour on myself and one to drink. Thank you Speedy Feet for having cold water in cups. I run for 6 minutes and pass the two mile marker, realizing that I have to do two laps. I drink water at about 1.5 miles at the other water cooler and keep running, passing people. I start lap two and realized I might finish in under 2 hours like I thought I could. I pass one other guy who is walking. I tell him he can do it and he runs with me for a bit. At mile 3 I hear footsteps behind me. "not know I think, all this way not getting passed and it is about to happen". I make the turn into the finish and realize the person on my tail had another lap to do, "Nice" I think to myself. I finish, soaking wet, not totally tired, thirsty for something other than water. Hilary comes over and congratulates me, "way to go Dan". Yeah, way to go Dan.
And for those of you that just wanted this information...
Swim...18:20
T1...3:22
Bike...1:06:20
T2...1:41
Run...29:00
Total...1:58:45
Finished 38th
And for those of you that don't get the title...fun people say, "This ain't my first rodeo" instead of "I know, I've done this before"
Thursday, June 16, 2011
Marathon Thoughts
90% of me wants to run a marathon.
10% of me wants to sleep in on Saturday and Sunday mornings, relax on Tuesday and Thursday afternoons, to forget the stretching and the warms ups, the strength training and the cool downs.
I ran a half marathon as part of a relay team with my brother, way back in 2004, as a sophomore in college. I was young enough and confident enough to just do it. I didn't really train for it. I had run 10 miles around a lake on summer vacation and 10.5 miles on Thanksgiving morning without any training. So I figured, what's another 3? My training runs were on trails, up hills, no miles, just time. I went on one long run, 7.5 miles, on country roads around my college. Was I worried about not training? Uh, nope! In fact, my dad, some of his running buddies, and my brother's girlfriend were all running the full. It felt like Andrew and I were just wimping out with the half marathon.
So I did it. I came home on October Break, packed a bag, and hopped in the family van for a trip to Columbus. I picked up my goodie bag with my way too huge tee shirt, ate carbs, and tried to get a good night of sleep. I got up, ate what Shelley ate, jogged to the starting line, and tried to stick with her 8 minute mile pace. And I did, for about the first 5 miles. After that, I lost her and just kept running along. Racing normally makes me nervous, but I didn't have any expectations for myself. I was just doing it to do it!
I'm not exactly sure what my time was. If I remember correctly, there was some disparity between what my watch said and what the split was recorded as. I think the posted time was 1:52. I attributed that to the fact that I had to untie the chip from my shoe with stiff, cold fingers in order to transfer it to Andrew's shoe. Then I kept jogging until I found my mom. When I found her, the first words out of my mouth were "Thank God I'm done." If you know me, you know I don't take the Lord's name in vain, but it just popped out. Truly, I was thankful that this run was done, but I was so embarrassed that I said that! I was exhausted, freezing in my shorts and long-sleeved shirt, and I wanted nothing but to sit in a blanket and sip hot chocolate. I think I was even crying a little bit. My mom congratulated me and gave me my warm clothes and probably even got my hot chocolate as I hobbled around on stiff legs. We watched the rest of the racers come in, my dad and Shelley both qualifying for Boston.
If only I had known that running 13.1 miles was really an accomplishment. With other people in my life who had run so many complete marathons, I felt like my half was hardly noticed. (Typical middle child for you, huh?) And, without really training hard for it, I guess I felt like it didn't deserve to be noticed.
And, if only I had known that my overall pace of 8:30 minutes/mile was really quite decent. I look back at my 19 year old self who ran 8:30 minute miles without thinking much of it and wish that I could get some of that speed back. In my memory, it was effortless, although I'm sure something about running up and down the Houghton hills had just a bit to do with it. Now, a few years wiser, I realize that 13.1 miles is crazy for some people even to contemplate. It can be a huge accomplishment. My husband recently ran a half, as did two sisters-in-law (one on each side), and I think of how proud I was of them!
So I'm talking myself into running a marathon. No, I don't think it will be a fast marathon. I'd need to do a lot of speed work for that. No, I don't think it will compare to my dad if he does the same marathon, or my sister-in-law who is gearing back up into marathon shape after the birth of their first baby. No, it wouldn't compare to Dan, who is also considering running the same marathon. But it would be my first marathon. It'd be my declaration that I can achieve my goals, that I can be that woman who follows through with a training plan, that I can run 26.2 miles.
I'm just about there. The visit to this website to sign the next 4 months of my life away.
But I really just want to know: what does the tee shirt look like?
10% of me wants to sleep in on Saturday and Sunday mornings, relax on Tuesday and Thursday afternoons, to forget the stretching and the warms ups, the strength training and the cool downs.
I ran a half marathon as part of a relay team with my brother, way back in 2004, as a sophomore in college. I was young enough and confident enough to just do it. I didn't really train for it. I had run 10 miles around a lake on summer vacation and 10.5 miles on Thanksgiving morning without any training. So I figured, what's another 3? My training runs were on trails, up hills, no miles, just time. I went on one long run, 7.5 miles, on country roads around my college. Was I worried about not training? Uh, nope! In fact, my dad, some of his running buddies, and my brother's girlfriend were all running the full. It felt like Andrew and I were just wimping out with the half marathon.
So I did it. I came home on October Break, packed a bag, and hopped in the family van for a trip to Columbus. I picked up my goodie bag with my way too huge tee shirt, ate carbs, and tried to get a good night of sleep. I got up, ate what Shelley ate, jogged to the starting line, and tried to stick with her 8 minute mile pace. And I did, for about the first 5 miles. After that, I lost her and just kept running along. Racing normally makes me nervous, but I didn't have any expectations for myself. I was just doing it to do it!
I'm not exactly sure what my time was. If I remember correctly, there was some disparity between what my watch said and what the split was recorded as. I think the posted time was 1:52. I attributed that to the fact that I had to untie the chip from my shoe with stiff, cold fingers in order to transfer it to Andrew's shoe. Then I kept jogging until I found my mom. When I found her, the first words out of my mouth were "Thank God I'm done." If you know me, you know I don't take the Lord's name in vain, but it just popped out. Truly, I was thankful that this run was done, but I was so embarrassed that I said that! I was exhausted, freezing in my shorts and long-sleeved shirt, and I wanted nothing but to sit in a blanket and sip hot chocolate. I think I was even crying a little bit. My mom congratulated me and gave me my warm clothes and probably even got my hot chocolate as I hobbled around on stiff legs. We watched the rest of the racers come in, my dad and Shelley both qualifying for Boston.
If only I had known that running 13.1 miles was really an accomplishment. With other people in my life who had run so many complete marathons, I felt like my half was hardly noticed. (Typical middle child for you, huh?) And, without really training hard for it, I guess I felt like it didn't deserve to be noticed.
And, if only I had known that my overall pace of 8:30 minutes/mile was really quite decent. I look back at my 19 year old self who ran 8:30 minute miles without thinking much of it and wish that I could get some of that speed back. In my memory, it was effortless, although I'm sure something about running up and down the Houghton hills had just a bit to do with it. Now, a few years wiser, I realize that 13.1 miles is crazy for some people even to contemplate. It can be a huge accomplishment. My husband recently ran a half, as did two sisters-in-law (one on each side), and I think of how proud I was of them!
So I'm talking myself into running a marathon. No, I don't think it will be a fast marathon. I'd need to do a lot of speed work for that. No, I don't think it will compare to my dad if he does the same marathon, or my sister-in-law who is gearing back up into marathon shape after the birth of their first baby. No, it wouldn't compare to Dan, who is also considering running the same marathon. But it would be my first marathon. It'd be my declaration that I can achieve my goals, that I can be that woman who follows through with a training plan, that I can run 26.2 miles.
I'm just about there. The visit to this website to sign the next 4 months of my life away.
But I really just want to know: what does the tee shirt look like?
Tuesday, June 14, 2011
Dan's Best Ever Kale
Just in case you get some kale in your own summer vegetable adventures, this is how Dan prepared it.*
Saute some chopped sweet onion and red peppers in a tablespoon or two of olive oil. Add a partial package of frozen green beans. Stir them around. Dump in a few (too many) red pepper flakes. Search the cupboard for some chicken stock and add a cup or so. Throw in a few raw almonds for crunch. Let the concoction simmer for a few minutes. Meanwhile, wash and stem your kale and toss it into the pot. Saute until the kale cooks down, about 5 minutes. Enjoy!
*Confession: I tried to micromanage him through his recipe after I asked him to make it. It's a bad habit of mine -- asking Dan to do something and then jumping in to take over. These were various sentences that a fly on the wall might have heard: Aren't you going to use a whole package of green beans? Why did you add whole almonds? There are slivered almonds in the freezer! Don't you think you should wash the kale? The salad spinner is in the fridge. How are you washing it?
I need to show Dan that I trust him in the kitchen, and with a few more experiences like these, I'll zip my lips in anticipation of the tasty results.
Saute some chopped sweet onion and red peppers in a tablespoon or two of olive oil. Add a partial package of frozen green beans. Stir them around. Dump in a few (too many) red pepper flakes. Search the cupboard for some chicken stock and add a cup or so. Throw in a few raw almonds for crunch. Let the concoction simmer for a few minutes. Meanwhile, wash and stem your kale and toss it into the pot. Saute until the kale cooks down, about 5 minutes. Enjoy!
*Confession: I tried to micromanage him through his recipe after I asked him to make it. It's a bad habit of mine -- asking Dan to do something and then jumping in to take over. These were various sentences that a fly on the wall might have heard: Aren't you going to use a whole package of green beans? Why did you add whole almonds? There are slivered almonds in the freezer! Don't you think you should wash the kale? The salad spinner is in the fridge. How are you washing it?
I need to show Dan that I trust him in the kitchen, and with a few more experiences like these, I'll zip my lips in anticipation of the tasty results.
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