Monday, October 19, 2015

The Third Time's The Charm (B2Bx3)

7:30 a.m., Saturday 26 October 2013
Terrified.  Freezing.  "It's my birthday."  Anxious.  Terrified.  "What have I gotten myself into?"
8:34:02 p.m., Saturday 26 October 2013
I'm an "Ironman!" Tired.  Freezing.  Exhilarated.  Hungry.  "I can't move."

7:30 a.m., Saturday 25 October 2014
Anxious.  Not quite so cold.  Not quite so frightened.  "I know what's coming.  I can do this."
8:03:59 p.m., Saturday 25 October 2014
Finished.  Super stoked about my swim.  OK with my ride.  My transitions were tons better.  Disappointed in my run.  30:03 minute PR


7:30 a.m., Saturday 17 October 2015
Ready.  Shivering.  Ready.  "Let's do this!  Play me that Eminem song.  I'm ready to go!"

The sun rises behind me, and I turn into to for the Star Spangled banner, which is being sung by one of the racer's family (who I will later see on the course at least 10 times).  I'm shivering, but not freezing.  We are called into the swim start corral, and I wait anxiously for Eminem to blast from the speakers:

Look, if you had, one shot, or one opportunity
To seize everything you ever wanted. In one moment
Would you capture it, or just let it slip?
Yo

His palms are sweaty, knees weak, arms are heavy
There's vomit on his sweater already, mom's spaghetti
He's nervous, but on the surface he looks calm and ready to drop bombs,
But he keeps on forgetting what he wrote down,
The whole crowd goes so loud
He opens his mouth, but the words won't come out
He's choking how, everybody's joking now
The clock's run out, time's up, over, blaow!
Snap back to reality, Oh there goes gravity
Oh, there goes Rabbit, he choked
He's so mad, but he won't give up that
Easy, no
He won't have it, he knows his whole back's to these ropes
It don't matter, he's dope
He knows that but he's broke
He's so stagnant, he knows
When he goes back to his mobile home, that's when it's
Back to the lab again, yo
This whole rhapsody
He better go capture this moment and hope it don't pass him

You better lose yourself in the music, the moment
You own it, you better never let it go (go)
You only get one shot, do not miss your chance to blow
This opportunity comes once in a lifetime (yo)
You better lose yourself in the music, the moment
You own it, you better never let it go (go)
You only get one shot, do not miss your chance to blow
This opportunity comes once in a lifetime (yo)
(You better)

The soul's escaping, through this hole that is gaping
This world is mine for the taking
Make me king, as we move toward a new world order
A normal life is boring, but superstardom's close to post mortem
It only grows harder, homie grows hotter
He blows. It's all over. These hoes is all on him
Coast to coast shows, he's known as the globetrotter
Lonely roads, God only knows
He's grown farther from home, he's no father
He goes home and barely knows his own daughter
But hold your nose 'cause here goes the cold water
His hoes don't want him no more, he's cold product
They moved on to the next schmoe who flows
He nose dove and sold nada
So the soap opera is told and unfolds
I suppose it's old partner but the beat goes on
Da da dum da dum da da da da

No more games, I'm a change what you call rage
Tear this motherfucking roof off like two dogs caged
I was playing in the beginning, the mood all changed
I've been chewed up and spit out and booed off stage
But I kept rhyming and stepped right into the next cypher
Best believe somebody's paying the pied piper
All the pain inside amplified by the
Fact that I can't get by with my 9 to 5
And I can't provide the right type of life for my family
Cause man, these goddamn food stamps don't buy diapers
And it's no movie, there's no Mekhi Phifer, this is my life
And these times are so hard, and it's getting even harder
Trying to feed and water my seed, plus
Teeter totter caught up between being a father and a primadonna
Baby mama drama's screaming on her
Too much for me to wanna
Stay in one spot, another day of monotony's gotten me
To the point, I'm like a snail
I've got to formulate a plot or I end up in jail or shot
Success is my only motherfucking option, failure's not
Mom, I love you, but this trailer's got to go
I cannot grow old in Salem's lot
So here I go it's my shot.
Feet, fail me not
This may be the only opportunity that I got

You can do anything you set your mind to, man 

Then, we're off and into the Banks Channel - 2.4 miles from the ladders at the Sea Path Marina.  I know that one of my besties is looking for a sub-50 minute swim and I also know that she will get it.  This swim is fast - even I have gone under an hour in the past.  I am hoping for a second sub-one hour today.

This is the first open water RACE DAY swim where I feel in complete control of everything:  my stroke, my breathing, my pace, my sighting - everything.  There's a chop on the water, and I don't internalize that it means there will be wind on the bike until later.  I reach the ladders in 58 minutes and the timing mat (after strippers and showers) at 1:00.  I'm out of T1 and on the bike in just about 1:09.  I feel good so far.  I have not swallowed a ton of salt water, and I already have the first bite of my favorite Kidz Z Bar going down.

The bike is tougher than I had hoped.  112 miles of wind and a nice stretch of "this is not pleasant for the girl parts" bumpy pavement.  But, everything on the #PinkPanther stays in the racks and bolted on.  The bike and wheels feel great, and I keep wishing that they will time travel me to the finish in a bike course PR.  Not so.  The wind does a number on me for the first 70 or so miles, but I come into T2 only two minutes slower than the year before where I felt little to no wind.  In this case, the gear was definitely worth the investment as I am sure that the carbon bike and race wheels kept me rolling forward at a pace that allowed me to recover some of what might have otherwise been lost due to the wind.

I roll into T2 and manage to NOT fall over.  I grab my Garmin off the bars and shuffle to the hook where the bag holding my running shoes, visor, belt, and bottle is waiting.  I make a pit stop in the Ladies' Room and head out the door in about 5 minutes.  Not blazing, but not awful considering...

The run begins as I expect based on the previous two years.  Then, I am directed to turn where I'm not ready to turn.  I say out loud, "What? What?  This isn't the right way?"  But, I go with the flow, and am pleasantly surprised by the change(s) in the run course.  More spectators, more things to keep your mind occupied, more lights once the sun begins to go down.  I'm at about Mile 2.5 when I see fellow Big Sexy Brad coming towards me as he is rounding out his first loop of the run.  We cheer, stop, hug, high five, totally hold up traffic, and then are on our merry ways.  At not quite Mile 3.5 I see my girl Marci who looks like a rock star and is moving right along headlong down the hill in my path.  More hugs, love and joy shared and then off.  The midpoint turn around on this course is "Kona" and I look forward to it in ways only 140.6 racers understand.  7+ miles done and I'm on my way to back to the Special Needs pick up.  I see Marci again (on her second lap) at approximately my Mile 10.  She is hurting, I can tell.  Her hip has decided to remind her it is indeed attached and has made her pay attention in a not so happy-go-luck manner.  She's tough.  She'll super star through it.  I'll see her at the finish.

Thinking that Brad will be pretty consistent on his second lap, I start looking for him at my Mile 1ish.  I don't think I actually see him until closer to 15, maybe 16.  He looks good, high fives me and promises beer at the finish.  ;-)  I'm cruising, not fast, but consistently, toward Mile 17.  I am just in front of the "Biker Bar" on a "regularly scheduled walk break" and realize that a beer would taste AWESOME.  I guy in front of the bar hands me a bottle, I take a huge swig, and then there is Marci again.  She's in tears disappointed that she missed her "perfect" race goal.  I hug her; tell her I love her; and remind her that she is going to finish, and that I'll see her soon.

By now my run pace is slowing some, but my overall is still in the 4:20 - 4:30 marathon finish time pace.  I'm trying not to be disappointed that I won't PR the run (4:26 in 2013) by telling myself that I can still PR the race.  I am drawing on so many other people's trials and tribulations:  Grayson, Cheryl, Jackie, Eric, Kathy.  "I will NOT give in.  I will NOT give up.  I will NOT quit. They didn't quit. They don't have the option to quit."  There's the turn around.  Only one 10K to go.  I.  Can.  Do.  This.  I.  Will.  Do.  This.

A mile and a half from the finish, there is a racer wearing a Marine Corps jersey - walking, head hanging.  I can't tell if he is active, retired, or just a supporter of the military.  I yell at him, "Ooooh Rah!  I don't have cash to buy you dinner, but I'll run you in.  Let's go:  3 and 1.  You've got this!"  Off we go.  He falls back, then catches back up.  Falls off again, and then he's there.  I come around the last hard right turn towards the finish line.  I see the lights; I hear the announcer; I can almost read the clock.  Then I see that it says 12:19...  I can be there before it turns to 12:20.  And then I'm there...  

7:49:32 p.m., Saturday, 17 October 2015
Finish Time:  12:19:32.  I've pulled off a 14:27 PR.  Now I'm happy.



Wednesday, October 7, 2015

Gifts I've Been Given

Just about the only radio stations I listen to in my car are KLove and Way FM, both are contemporary Christian stations.  I hear stories and testimonies daily about stepping out in Faith; trusting God and what He can do in our lives; overcoming addictions, trials and tribulations; and more than double taht the good things that have happened in peoples' lives around the world.  I often think to myself that I have never been to that "rock bottom" place in my life.  Sure, I've been down; I've been depressed; I've wished for better, more, different that what I had; but I have never felt that I was at the bottom of the pit with no way out.  (Well, there was that one time in my very early twenties, but I survived it and I'm still around to wreak havoc in many other ways.)  What I have learned is that I have been given gifts.  Some may call them talents or skills.  I call them gifts.  I didn't hone them as one does a skill.  I didn't take lessons to refine them as one does a talent.  They just exist.  And, they should be shared.

What I have also learned is that by adopting that more positive approach has allowed me to touch people in another way:  by guiding others to reach their running and/or triathlon goals.  As many know, I first helped a few friends conquer marathon goals after I qualified for the Boston Marathon in 2010.  Since that time I have "moonlighted" as a running and triathlon coach with every single one of the athletes that I have assisted has met or exceeded their goals.  One of the first things that an athlete asks a potential coach is "how much do you charge?"  I am lucky that as an independent coach (one not attached to any coaching group) I can reply that my fees are "negotiable."  Many, if not most, of the athletes I guide are going through a divorce, are single parents, recently lost a loved one, are life long friends, or touch my heart in a unique way.  I cannot charge these people $350/month.  Sometimes I can't even charge $150/month.  It simply does not feel right.  You see, I didn't get into coaching to pad my retirement fund.  I didn't get into coaching to buy a car, or pay off my house.  I do it because I truly, in my heart and soul, believe that God gave me the gift of being able to participate in endurance athletics, and further blessed me with the gift of being able to help others reach their goals in similar situations. 

Many years ago I joined a Bible study group where one of the women NEVER seemed to have a down moment; never a negative or critical word to say about anyone or any situation.  Not even when she was diagnosed with breast cancer was she negative.  She never questioned God or blamed anyone for the hand she had been dealt.  She calls, to this day, everyone she meets Sweetie, Darlin', Honey, Babe, Doodle, Google (my special name), Bug, etc.  Not to long after meeting her I made a conscious effort to emulate her outward persona.  I figured that if I said it often enough, or used enough nice, cutesy names, and smiled even when I wanted to throat punch someone that I could become positive just like her.  Time will tell if it was a successful approach and whether or not it has positively affected my ability to guide another to realize their endurance goals.

I often tell an athlete that I will push you hard.  I will work you until you just want to go to bed.  But, I will be your most reliable confidant, your biggest advocate, and your loudest cheerleader.  I will train with you if I am able; I will travel with you if I can afford it; and I will talk you down off any ledge you climb.  I quickly discovered that being a coach is to be comprised of part athletic coach, nutritionist, psychologist, counselor, friend, confidant, and personal a$$ kicker.  Not always in equal parts, and certainly not always all at the same time.

Not every coach is for every athlete.  Not every athlete can work with just any coach.  I am not the right person for everyone looking for a coach.  However, I can promise that if we open up a partnership, we will be successful for God will have put us together for a reason.  And, if God is for us, who then can be against us?

I Corinthians 9:24-27

Monday, June 8, 2015

Tortoises and Hares


In my little corner of the world, I recommend you drink bottled water.  There are trees, and birds, and squirrels, and families, and Ironmen.  More specifically, there are IronMoms (identified by chronological accomplishment).  Currently there are two besides myself within less than a 1/4 mile walk of each other.  Until recently the "saturation level" of IronMoms was 4 inside a .75 mile radius.  Then #2 moved out of the neighborhood.  Number 3 has not expressed much interest in adding the term "multiple" to her title, and that is okay.  Some people simply do not embrace the lifestyle of continued 140.6 training. 
  

IronMom Number 1 has a history.  And a fan club - one of her loudest supporters is my very own #KonaKid (he was one of her students in high school).  Number One also has had, as we all do, some Life Challenges along the way.  She is a single mom teaching high school full time with one daughter in college and another entering her senior year of high school.  She first became an IronMom in 2008 at Ironman Couer d'Alene, adding "multiple finisher" to her crown in 2011 at Ironman Florida.  Then her small world fell apart, so-to-speak.  She got "sick."

 
My first interaction with IM#1 came when I was still a stay-at-home mom/Running Shop Girl.  My younger son walks past her house going to and from the bus stop every day.  We passed her house one morning and her garage door was wide open.  I knew both her girls were at school as was she.  So, I e-mailed her school address and waited.  Little did she realize the Pandora's box she had just opened (insert evil laugh here...).  She replied with the door code, thanking me for noticing, and I went up the hill to shut her house up safe and sound.

Flash forward a couple of years and I start "stopping by" when ever I see said garage door open and a vehicle that indicates someone is home.  I should mention that this made her a bit uncomfortable in the beginning.  She is quite like a turtle:  she prefers to keep to herself; hide inside her shell; and pull up the flap(s) when she doesn't wish to be bothered.  Anyone who knows me knows that this is nearly always completely contrary to how I function in daily life.  So, we moved forward slowly, getting to know bits and pieces of each other's lives and how our children move about in society.  Me, very nearly always the instigator in any interaction, but her slowly warming to the fact that there could be neighborhood friends who truly are looking out for her interests.

Over the last few months, she and I have entered into a coach-athlete partnership.  She WANTS to regain that which she feels she has lost over the last couple of years:  those feelings of being ALIVE and FIT and STRONG and CAPABLE.  Her mind remembers all too well, and her body wants to jump back in.  She has good days and bad days.  But, then again, don't we all?  She and I have an agreement.  A pact of sorts.  We will both complete FIVE 140.6 distance events by the year we turn 50.  We WILL do it.  And, I have the feeling that our FIFTH race will be one we both agree on, and finish together.  Perhaps even side-by-side.  Who knows what the future holds?  I know only that the miles and hours of training and friendship will be priceless.

Monday, April 27, 2015

It's a PASSION, not a paycheck

Some years ago (not that many in the grand scheme of life), when I qualified for the Boston Marathon the first time, a few friends of mine asked me if I would help them along the same journey:  to qualify for Boston.  I didn't think anything about it at the time, but those were my first "coaching" jobs.  We had the best time when we ran together.  I never asked any of them for a penny.  Gatorade, and Gu, but never any monetary compensation. Along the way I have learned new techniques, new methods, and have attended coaching/certification clinics to better hone the skills in order to better serve an athlete.  I have listened and questioned, and researched nutrition "tweaking" and the multitude of available products and who might benefit most from those products.

Since then I have coached first time marathoners, first time half marathoners, first time triathletes, Boston Qualifiers, Ironman finishers, experienced athletes with finish time goals, runners who wished to branch out into triathlon, and people simply looking to add something new and healthy into their lives.  I have collaborated with other coaches on training camps geared towards athletes with a 70.3 or 140.6 event on their calendars.  I have discovered that I LOVE the mentoring/coaching/guiding/teaching side of endurance sports.  I would much rather spend 30 minutes talking a wary athlete through a beach entry swim start, or hang off the back of the ride than push myself in the faster group just to get in my own workout.

Broadening one's horizons means sometimes stepping out on a limb.  In the past, I have kept my coaching in the shadows, so to speak, as I do not view myself as qualified as others in my area.  With the advent of on-line coaching, tracking software, and (Gasp...) maybe the use of Skype, the opportunities seem wide open.  If I ignored the potential of social media with regard to my being able to assist an athlete, I would be sliding backwards and not progressing with the times.

I hope you will share this information with people you know, and follow along on this new path that I envision leading to the same destination: an athlete's success.

Tuesday, April 7, 2015

"I Get To..." by Jon Gordon

Chris McDonald shared this with the Big Sexy Racing team this morning.  For many years, I have tried to instill this mind set and approach into my Boys' lives.  Even when they were younger, I tried - with some difficulty - to use the phrase "I get to..." or "we get to..." instead of the "... have to ..."  Sometimes we just need reminding.  Thank you, Chris.

I Get To instead of Have To
by Jon Gordon-author/speaker

Who knew that two simple words could change one's mindset, perspective and approach to work and life? Just two words have the potential to enhance joy, productivity, performance and change a complaining voice to an appreciative heart.

So often we say things like, "I have to take the kids to practice." "I have to go to this meeting." "I have to finish this project." "I have to go to work today." "I have to take care of this customer." "I have to share this new information with my team." "I have to see my family this weekend."

We act as if we don't have a choice. As if we are imprisoned by a paycheck and the expectations of a world that forces us to do things we don’t want to do.  But in reality we do have a choice. We can choose our attitude and our actions. We can choose how we view our life and work. We can realize that every day is a gift. It’s not about what we have to do. It's about what we get to do.

We get to live this life while so many like my Mom, who passed away at 59, left this world far too early. We get to drive in traffic while so many are too sick to drive a car. We get to go to a job while so many are unemployed. We get to raise our children even if they drive us nuts at times. ;-)  We get to interact with our employees and customers and make a difference in their life. We get to use our gifts and talents to make a product or provide a service. We get to eat three meals a day while millions of people are starving. We get to work on projects, answer phone calls, serve customers, participate in meetings, design, create, share, sell, lead and suit up every day for the game of life.

When I’m mentoring leaders I encourage them to focus on “get to” each day. I encourage them to focus on feeling grateful instead of stressed. The research shows we can’t be stressed and thankful at the same time so when you are feeling thankful and focusing on “get to” you fuel up with the positive emotions that uplift you rather than the stress hormones that slowly drain you. People who do this, report feeling more energized, productive and engaged at work and home.

Sure there will be challenges and life isn't easy but if we approach each day as an opportunity to learn, grow and be thankful we will live a more meaningful and powerful life.

So today join me in saying that my life is a gift not an obligation and I Get To make the most of it.
- Jon Gordon.

Saturday, April 4, 2015

It's Not the Gear - It's the Machine



I must have said it a "hundred bajillion" times to athletes and friends, "It's not the fancy gear you own or wear.  It's the way you train and the engine inside you."  Yep.  I've said it.  I've believed it - as the owner of a 1998 Quintana Roo Kilo (aluminum and steel frame) - I have pretty much lived the saying.  But, until today I didn't ever feel that I had fallen prey to the saying.

Yes.  I was given/gifted/permanently loaned a tri bike in 2008ish (maybe 2010ish) that I have loved and cherished and ridden in ever triathlon since then.  For Christmas this past year, my ever supportive and #SuperSherpaSpouse gave me a BRAND NEW CARBON FRAME Quintana Roo Dulce.  I LOVE her!  She is my #PinkPanther and I truly enjoy riding her.  Flash forward from Christmas, through three what-I-thought-were-good-productive training months to the season opener:  Red Hills Sprint Triathlon.

Top:  1998 Kilo - Bottom:  2014 Dulce

Unlike last year, I actually swam in the off season (like about 20 times in the month of December), but only 5 times and two open water swims in the last few weeks leading up to race day.  This year I swam in a sleeveless wet suit and I am pleased with my decision.  The water was just a tad warmer than last year, and I really did feel better prepared.  I should, however, maybe have started a bit further up in the pack so as to not swim over/around so many people.  Net time difference:  18 seconds slower over the 1/3 mile swim course.  I'm okay with that.  T1 - 19 seconds FASTER this year.  Yippee!  Now for the bike...


We added a CycleOps PowerBeam Pro to our training pain cave in January and I have used it for every trainer ride since.  I have previously trained based on perceived effort, heart rate, and cadence with solid results.  So, being honest, I have used the PowerBeam with the power meter engaged about 1/3 of the time.  The ride FELT GREAT!  I felt strong, and fast, and ready to throw down when I got to T2.  Hold on there, Skippy!  Reality check:  for all that great feeling and perceived fastness:  I was 2:29 slower this year.  What!  Whaaaaat?  Brand new carbon bike?  Kit that fits like a lambskin glove, and I'm SLOWER?  Dang it... 

Into T2... and out the gate in 12 seconds less than 2014.  Okay.  Things are looking up again.  I might be able to pull off a run time that I can be pleased with.

Run:  UP hill out of T2 (and T1 by the way).  I'm feeling pretty good, not great, but good.  When I am huffing and puffing in that darn asthmatic manner that only I can produce.  Yay!  Stop and walk and use the inhaler.  Suck it all in and move on.  The run is hilly and just over one half is trails - which for those of us with weak and cranky ankles is NO FUN!  But, methodical picking of one's path can lead to an injury free run.  This year's run was 2:35 slower (again with the slow) and I have no explanation except that breathing is a good thing to do when running.  That's it.  My training runs had been super, and even my "shake up" brick the day before with my son was faster but felt relaxed and smooth.

Now for the take-away:  I am in my late forties (not looking for pity), and I came to this sport truly only 7ish years ago, and only approached it seriously in the last 3 years. I am an asthmatic with allergies that are not always predictable.  I work full time, have two part-time jobs, in addition to being married for nearly 25 years and the mother of two high energy, top competitors in their own age groups.  I am BLESSED to be able to get up each morning and CHOOSE to train and have a family to love and an employment situation with all the benefits.  I have friends and colleagues with whom to share experiences and ideas, and athletes to assist and guide through their own journey to success.  It is apparent that there is work to be done, and be done it will.  I am nothing if not determined once I see what is required to meet the chosen goal(s).

For all of my negative "self speak" and down-playing of what I may or may not have accomplished, today was a wonderful day on Easter Weekend to be outside doing one, okay three, of the things I truly love best with friends, family, and people from my home town.  I can't be any happier than to pack my things up out of Transition and put my #PinkPanther in the car and go home to the family who loves me.

Happy Easter!  HE is Risen!

Monday, March 2, 2015

It's Open Season

2015 TRIATHLON Season
Day One:  2 hour trainer ride (including warm up and cool down) at 90-100 rpm cadence, 18-23 mph, total of 38.49 miles
Day Two:  55 min recovery ride - 90 rpm, 18 mph averages

In Florida, people often assume that there is no "off" season when it comes to training or triathlon.  However, I'm here to tell you, that for me, there are two "off" seasons:  those 10 days to two weeks immediately following a 140.6 race and the week following the last (yes, sometimes there are more than one) spring marathon.  I take a lot of comfort in those weeks/days off from structured if any training.  I don't mind at all sleeping past 4:15 a.m.  In fact, I really kind of enjoy it.

Unless I am going to Boston in April, I like to "open" my triathlon training season on March 1.  It allows me some "ease back into the racing scene" time with a couple of my favorite 10K events, and it gives me more than ample time to ramp up to a 70.3 that I like on Mother's Day Weekend.  Recently, it has also given me a solid five weeks of "get it together" training for the local season opening race, Red Hills Sprint Tri, the first Saturday of April.  In all honesty, I like the intensity of sprint training, but I really enjoy the regimen of the 70.3 training schedule.  So, like some sort of freak, I look forward to March 1 for more than the all important time change.

This year, I am NOT going to Boston for the 119th running of the Boston Marathon.  Yes, I'll miss being there, but I'm totally okay with the other plans that will take its place on the travel and race calendar this year:  ITU World Age Group Championship in Chicago this September; and a third trip to Wilimington, North Carolina, for Beach2Battleship where I hope to break 12 hours on a 140.6 course. 

Granted, we are only in Day Two, but I have high hopes for the next 8 months.  I am anxiously awaiting what the season holds in store and what it will undoubtedly throw at me.  All I can say is...

Bring it!  I'm waiting.

Let's do this!

Friday, January 30, 2015

Taking My Own Advice

I can't remember the last time I was "actually sick."  I can't remember the last time I called in sick to an employer and burned any leave time.  It's entirely possible that it has been more than  six (6) years.  The problem is not that I have a cold.  Or that I "actually called in sick."  The problem is that I have to openly admit that generally I ignore the advice I shell out liberally to athletes, and not just the ones with whom I have the pleasure of working.  

I suck (in all capital letters - SUCK) at missing a work out, or staying home on the couch with my Fluffies, and taking care of the body in a non-physical way.  Generally, I adopt the attitude of "if I'm not coughing, and if the fever isn't too high" then SUCK IT UP Buttercup and move forward.  Now, let me be clear - the "sickest" I've been in years is a brutal round with a cold that hung around for a while due to my asthma.  Yeah.  It sucked.  But, I pushed through and only felt "down" for four days or so.  I often wonder if I would just take a day and sleep a bit extra, if the cold would be on it's way more quickly.

So, this week, Wednesday to be exact, when I felt the cold teasing me I decided to listen to The Coach in me.  I set my alarm for AFTER work out time, and told myself that if I had not slept well, or felt chills I would REALLY and TRULY call in and stay home on the couch.  The Super Sherpa/Hubby took care of #BoyWonder, brought me lemonade mix for my cure all, and made dinner.  I huddled under a fluffy blanket, and shortly thereafter went to bed.

Thursday morning dawns and I have not slept as well as I would have liked, but I would be "okay" if I had to go to the office.  Then I got out of bed and felt like I was freezing.  I went out to the couch, so I could see my boy off to school and then called the office.  Admittedly, I thought maybe I might make it by lunch time.  Nope.  I lay down on the couch, got the fluffy blanket and four-footed fluffies and proceeded to doze through a couple of episodes of Blue Bloods.  I snacked some and drank a TON of hot, strong Country Time lemonade with cinnamon sticks  (my go to cure all for colds).  I managed to let the dogs out, get a shower, and sit in the sun on our new really comfy deck chair cushions.  By dinner time I felt better and thought surely I was past the worst.  The the cough began.

I despise that dry, bothersome, asthma-like bark that I get as my body is past the "sick and fever" and is trying to loosen the chest back up.  What a pain...!  And this is when it always SOUNDS like I'm sick, but am truly past it.  So, I set my alarm, AGAIN, for after work out time, and got up for coffee as usual.  I felt pretty normal. Got ready and headed into the office.  The cough stayed at bay until just past lunch, and then went all Emeril on me:  kicked it up a notch.  Bah, humbug!  I hydrated so much I thought I might float away for a while.  Now the cough is subsiding a bit and we shall see what the evening holds in store.

There is a 50th Birthday dinner on the calendar for this evening that I feel compelled to back out of - it's not fair to the Birthday Girl or the other guests.  And, there a long run tomorrow.  That's pretty easy - I can always move that to Sunday.  Not the end of the world.

So there you have it.  I took my own advice.  For a change.  In the grand scheme, one day is nothing.

Coaches for a Cause

Mac's "SwimSTRONG" Foundation

Mac's "SwimSTRONG" Foundation
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