Tia’s Race Report: Sunday, June 28, 2009 – Pacific Crest Olympic Triathlon

Butterflies
Friday night is the traditional TNT dinner pasta dinner. Terry, a TNT alum, mother, and tri-athlete shared a moving story about her little girl, Emily, who battled leukemia. Prior to surgery, a surgery that had less than a 1% survival rate, this mother held her 9 year old daughter’s hand and told her a story about a butterfly. A butterfly that had a tummy ache (her daughter’s stomach was distended from cancer and cancer treatments). A butterfly who rubbed it’s tummy to feel better. A butterfly who wrapped itself in its wings to fall asleep. This Mother told this story over and over to her little girl as they prepped her for surgery, wheeled her down the hall to the OR, started the IV and while the doctors waited as she told her daughter the story one more time before the IV fluids put little Emily to sleep for the last time.

And Terry also told us that she has seen a butterfly every day for the last 5 years since her daughter’s death. She told us that we would be surrounded by butterflies on the bike course; her little Emily’s reminder that all of those that lost their fight with cancer are still with us. There was not a dry eye in the room. I could not look at my girls who were happily playing in the grass behind me. I could not bear to think of losing them.

Completing the triathlon was not about getting in shape or competing anymore. My mission was clear – I was here to remember those that could not complete or participate in this triathlon and carry them across the finish line. Like Scott, the wolf slayer.

Rise & Shine
I was up before my 4:30am alarm race morning. Todd and I had coffee and my usual pre-race breakfast of oatmeal. I toasted a whole wheat piece of bread, spread some peanut butter on it and tucked it away for my “second breakfast” an hour before race start. Mom drove us to the school where we were setting up T2 and taking a bus to the Wickiup Reservoir. Todd and I were the first ones to arrive… we even beat Coach Dano… much to everyone’s surprise. My tardiness had yet again made itself apparent throughout the 5 month training season. So much so that Mentor Beez had to pull me aside the day before race day to reiterate that I could not miss the bus.

Anticipation & Waiting
T2 was a bundle of nerves for most of the team. My coffee was just beginning to kick in and we had the hour bus ride to the reservoir in front of us. I hate waiting. Absolutely hate it. And once we got to Wickiup at 7:30am we waited… and waited… and waited as race start got pushed from 9am to 9:30am to 9:50am. However, this waiting time went by relatively fast and was filled with prepping T1 and reflecting on the journey we had been on and were about to complete.

As I was pumping up my front tire, the stem broke off; a loud burst was heard followed by the prompt deflation of my tire. Time to practice changing a flat! I was getting a lot of sympathetic looks; however, this tire change actually calmed my nerves. The sun was shining on half of the large parking lot where over 1,000 racers were getting ready. It was warming. Todd had his iPod and was listening to his chemo/cancer survivor theme song, “Eagles Fly” by Sammy Hagar. It was quiet. Peaceful. Serene.

I saw some of my TNT mates marking themselves with various colors of Sharpie pens. I asked Mary Jane for some pens and went to work drawing Scott’s name with angel wings on the inside of my left wrist (I had a similar drawing on the left shoulder of my shirt. I was fighting back tears – remembrance and happy tears. Mary Jane said, “Don’t forget Todd!” and went to work drawing Todd’s name on my left arm with hearts around it with “Go Team!” on my opposite arm.

Todd then gave me the iPod and I walked around to Sting’s “Fragile.” It was surreal to watch people with the back drop of the sun rising over the lake; smiling faces, concentrated faces, on-lookers giving hugs and wishes of good luck. I felt like I was in a movie – scene; tri-athlete gets ready for start with images of loved ones lost (Scott) and loved ones alive (Todd) – the reason I trained so hard and raised over $6,800 for the LLS.

The Swim
Suddenly it was time to get my wet suit on and head to the 62 degree water for a warm up swim. Now I was giddy. The water was cold but I immediately got used to it and just wanted to start swimming. My age group heat was one of the last (yes, I was 36 as of the day prior, so in the 35 to 45 age group).

Todd found a fire fighter friend and we swam to the water’s edge to get a picture. There were hundreds of on-lookers ringing cow bells and screaming people’s names. It was go time.

I chose my strategic start position in the water – outside, front and left (wide). 3…2…1… my head was in the water and I was officially starting my first Olympic distance triathlon and the longest open water swim (1 mile) I had ever done. I was surprised at how organized we all were. There was minimal thrashing and splashing as we swam towards the first buoy (not what I had experienced in the past). I was in my rhythm quickly – four strokes, breathe, four strokes, breathe and sight.

Buoy one – check. I was swimming next to someone my pace which made buoy two come very quickly. I had a great, tight turn around buoy two. Buoy three seemed a long ways away. Occasionally I smelled fuel. Someone must be getting picked up by the jet skis. I was slowing down. Round buoy three and I couldn’t believe how far away the Red Bull exit was… and with every eight strokes it seemed I had made minimal progress. It wasn’t my best exit. I remember crawling out of the water, running up the ramp a bit disoriented and ran right instead of left, realized my mistake, laughed, turned around and found my bike.

The Bike

I felt good and was getting on my trustee steed and starting my favorite event – bicycling. Being wet and feeling the air rush past me felt good. The first 18 miles were all a gradual climb with a steep grade for 3 miles at mile marker 15. We all fell in our places and I experienced for the first time what wearing the purple TNT jersey meant. Everyone cheered me on. People thanked me. Competitors who rode by me yelled, “Go Team!” I felt like a million people were pushing me and patting me on the back. It was exhilarating and I had a huge smile on my face.

And I saw butterflies… everywhere. They fluttered on my arms, past my head, tried to land on my bike on the climb. I fought back tears a couple of times and looked at the inside of my arm where Scott’s name was inscribed. Scott loved his bike. My legs pumped faster.

The descent came quickly and that is when I saw Jesus and Sarah. They were hooting and hollering my name from the side of the road and held a “Go Team!” sign. I smiled, waved and marveled at how lucky I was to have great friends in my life.

Suddenly I was less than a mile from the finish. I was wondering if I would get to see my girls at T2. Then I heard people yelling my name, saw my car and Uncle Jeff smiling at me. My family was just making the turn into the Middle School. I wouldn’t see them all, but knew they would be waiting at the finish line.

I dismounted my bike and as I was running into T2 (I felt great!) I heard my name yelled again. This time by my oldest, dearest and best friend, Cerise. There she was, with Oriana on her back and holding a TNT sign – double meaning; TNT = Todd N Tia and TNT = Team in Training. She was so excited and ran with me as I found my transition spot. She was waving and asking how I felt. I posed for some pictures and waved good bye.

28 miles on the bike were behind me. It was time to run.

The Run
I felt good. Strong even. I had finished both of my water bottles on the bike along with 5 Clif Shot Bloks. My energy and fuel should’ve been replaced. In the first quarter mile I saw Dano. He gave me a high five, a big smile and told me he would tell Todd that I would meet him at the finish line. We all laughed. I was on cloud nine.

Then it happened. A mile into the run my stomach started sloshing. I could hear it gurgling and groaning. I didn’t feel good. I had to concentrate on putting one foot in front of the other. My nutrition wasn’t right. I had drunk too much or not eaten enough.

The course was deceptively hilly and it was 12:30pm – the middle of the day and the sun was blazing around 95 degrees.

My mind was reeling. I knew I was going to finish but I didn’t want to walk… ever. My drive was insane. I made a bathroom pit stop to get rid of some of the water in my bladder. My stomach was still sloshing. New strategy. Every mile was an aid station so I ran to each of them. Stopped for a cup of Heed or water. Took sips while I walked to the trash can a few yards away and started running again.

Then I saw Sherrie, a TNT Halfer, at mile 3. She was on her bike smiling and had a basket of motivation – licorice, Otter pops, and some other things I can’t remember because none of it sounded good to me. I just wanted to know that I could do this. She cheered me on. I pushed on.

As I was running well over my usual 10 minute mile pace, I was looking at my feet a lot. That’s when I saw more motivation. My TNT mentors and coaches had gone out the night before and used sidewalk chalk to inscribe messages to us along the back half of the course. “Suck it up princess.” “Go Team.” All of our names listed. It was motivating. Even my sis-in-law scribbled a message on her morning walk. I smiled and kept putting one foot in front of the other.

Around mile 4 I was dying. I passed the street our house was on and had a fleeting thought of actually turning off the course to go lay down in my bed. Then someone yelled “Go Team!” and I pushed on. Local residents lined the jogging path with sprinklers and soaked us with super soakers. Bless them.

Mile 5 and I was over the hump. 1.2 miles to go. I knew I was going to finish.

The Finish
A quarter mile from the finish I saw TNT halfer’s coach Scott. He could tell I was hurting. He cheered me on, told me the finish was right around the corner and congratulated me that I was an Olympic tri-athlete. I started to move faster. I felt lighter. I did it!

The end was crowded with spectators cheering. A man stepped out of the crowd. He was bald, had a big smile and was holding a sign that said “I’m a survivor because of you!” with TNT logos. He cheered and pointed to the sign and thanked me. I stopped and hugged him. I was crying. Waves of emotion flowing through me.

I rounded the next corner and there was a giant picture of Natasha, our honored team mate who had died a few months earlier. She was nine. Her Grandma was standing behind that gigantic sign waving and smiling, cheering me on. I stopped and blew a kiss to Natasha, touching my hand to her cheek.

Now I was on the finish line carpet. I heard my family cheering but my vision was blurry. I was sobbing. I heard my name called out as I officially completed my first Olympic distance triathlon; Scott was on my shoulder.

My timing chip off, I was in a small tent with a cold wet towel around my neck and a cold mist of water spraying me. I put my hands on my knees and sobbed. I couldn’t control myself. I had done it. I thought of Scott. I thought of all cancer survivors and fighters. I wanted to hug my little girls. I wanted to now see Todd cross the finish line.

Cerise was there again congratulating me outside of the athletes area. And then I saw my parents and Mara. I grabbed her from over the fence and gave her a big hug. Her first words to me? In a sad voice, “Mama, you didn’t say hi to me when I saw you running.” I laughed and hugged her tight.

Todd finished about 30 minutes later and he looked awesome. He had a ball and spent his day making other people laugh. From stopping on the course to chat with Jesus and Sarah to asking the crossing/safety guards on the run if his taxi was waiting, he was making people laugh. And that is a cancer survivor for you and is a glimpse into one of the many reasons I fell in love with Todd. I’m the lucky one.

Thank you all for your support both emotionally and monetarily. We’re all wolf slayers. Until next year…

“What you do today is important because you exchange a day of your life for it.”

Crossing the finish line with an Angel on my shoulder...

Todd and I are officially four short weeks from crossing the finish line at our first triathlon in Sunriver, OR.

I never imagined how meaningful this training would become. And how one person's amazing fight with cancer could motivate and push me to limits I needed to surpass.

Scott passed away last Friday, May 22nd, after a year long fight with cancer. I have known Scott since birth. He was a friend and a big brother. He coined the term big bad wolf for his cancer. He rode his bicycle after rounds of chemo. And he laughed, smiled and brought joy and energy to all the people around him. To give you an idea of what kind of person Scott was, his own oncologist could not tell him his fight with the big bad wolf was over…

Scott embraced and embodied "What you do today is important because you exchange a day of your life for it."

The following story came from one of Scott's fraternity brothers. I shed many tears reading this and I now have it printed and saved to read over and over again. What a wonderful reminder to embrace life.

Scott, I will be carrying you across the finish line on my shoulder. Here’s to making memories, my friend.

Making Memories
By Paul H. Dunn

Life is a hurried affair for all of us. We rush from task to task, frantic in our chase. Our days sometimes become mere laundry lists of things to do – item 1, item 2, item 3.

And these can seem so all-important, so big to us.

Making a business appointment seems more crucial than telling our sweethearts that we love them; cleaning the house takes first place over reading the little child a story.

On and on we rush until life becomes “full of sound and fury,” signifying very little to us.

Have you ever awakened in the morning and realized that not once this week, or this month, or this year, has life really touched you – that not one moment lately has really mattered? Have you ever thought that days and days lie behind you forgotten because they were full, sometimes bursting, with insignificant busyness?

Do you remember the story of a mother who was expecting company for dinner? She had the meat browning in the oven, the cherry pies cooling in the window. So she grabbed a jacket and ran outside where her children were playing. “C’mon, you great kids,” she said. “Let’s go make a memory.”

Together they climbed into the old jeep that was perfect for the canyon, a very short drive away.

They spent an hour collecting rocks in a bag. “Look at this one,” said the mother. “Its underside is yellow like a fire.”

“Come see this one, “ she said. “Its been worn by the wind and is smooth.”

On the way home from their excursion, bouncing in the jeep, the mother exclaimed in consternation, “Oh no! I forgot to make the rolls for dinner.”

“Who cares? Who cares?” said the children. “We’re making memories.”

And the dinner guest that night didn’t even miss the rolls.

What makes a few rare moments in our lives stand out like diamonds in the sand? Why do we cling to certain mental pictures for years when we can hardly remember yesterday morning?

Well, things of the heart last forever! When all of our resounding accomplishments sound empty, when all our glorious material possessions are out-of-date or faded, we remember those magic moments when time stood still and the clouds seemed not to move and we really loved what we loved; when we took the time to show those dearest to us how we felt in the small ways that echo so powerfully in our lives.

Do you remember the apostle Paul’s words on love in Corinthians?
“Though I speak with the tongues of men and of angels, and have not [love], I am become as sounding brass, or a tinkling cymbal.

“And though I have the gift of prophecy, and understand all mysteries, and all knowledge; and though I have all faith, so that I could remove mountains, and have not [love], I am nothing.

“and though I bestow all my goods to fee the poor, and though I give m body to be burned, and not [love], it profiteth me nothing.” (1 Corinthians 13:1-3.)
and our lives can seem like so much nothing if we don’t take time, conscious time, to make loving memories.

Take the father who often slipped a candy bar under his daughter’s books as she studied late for college exams. Take the husband who put a note by his wife’s plate at dinnertime, thanking her for a fine meal. Take the grandmother who called a little boy to tell him there was a magnificent sunset outside that he really must see.

Little things, really – not expensive, not time-consuming – but oh, hat an impact; what memories they make; what love they show.

Here’s a story that a young woman, Frances Powler, told about one of those times. It was a day in some ways like any other in her childhood, but she never forgot it.

It was a hectic Saturday in spring, back in the days when the adage “six days shalt though labour, and do all thy work” was taken seriously.
Outside, Frances’ father and the next-door neighbor, Mr. Patrick, were doing chores.

Inside the houses her mother and Mrs. Patrick were engaged in spring housecleaning. Such a windy March day was ideal for turning out clothes closets. Already woolens flapped on the backyard clotheslines.

Frances was hard at work, but somehow her brothers and the Patrick boys had slipped away with their kites to the back lot. Apparently, there was no limit to the heights to which kites would soar that day. Her mother looked out the window. The sky was piercing blue, the breeze fresh and exciting. Up in the all the blueness sailed great, puffy pillows of clouds. It had been a long, hard winter, but today, today was spring.

Then her mother turned to look at the sitting room, its furniture disordered for a vacuum sweeping. The mother hesitated for a minute as her eyes wavered between her work and the window. Finally, she said, “come on, girls! Let’s take string to the boys and watch them fly the kites a minute.”

On the way they met Mrs. Patrick and her daughter heading for the back lot and laughing guiltily.

“There never was such a day for flying kites, “ Frances said. God doesn’t make two such days in a century. They played all their fresh twine into the boy’ kites, and still they soared. Now and then they slowly reeled one in, finally bringing it dipping and tugging to the earth for the sheer joy of sending it up again. What a thrill for Frances, just a little girl, to run with those kites to the right, to the left, and see their poor, earthbound movements reflected minutes later in the majestic sky dance of the kites. She and the other children wrote wishes on slips of paper and slipped them over the string. Slowly, irresistibly, those wishes climbed up until they reached the kites. Surely, all such wishes would be granted!

Frances remembers that even their fathers dropped hoe and hammer and joined them. Their mothers took their turns, too, laughing like schoolgirls. Her mother’s hair, she said, blew out of its pompadour and curled loose about her cheeks; Mother’s gingham apron whipped about her lap.

Mingled with the children’s fun was something akin to awe. The grown-ups were really playing with them. Frances looked at her mother and thought she actually looked pretty. And she was over forty.

They never knew where the hours went on that hilltop. There were no hours, just a golden, windy day. Parents forgot duty and their dignity; children forgot their competitiveness and small spites. “Perhaps this is the Kingdom of Heaven,” Frances thought.

It was growing dark before they all stumbled sleepily back to their houses. There must have been a surface tidying up, for Frances said the house on Sunday looked decorous enough.

The strange thing was, none of them mentioned that day afterwards. Perhaps they were embarrassed that any day could mean so much. Frances locked the memory up in that deepest part of her that we all have – that part where we keep the things that cannot be, yet are.

The years went on; Frances grew up and moved far away from her kite-flying hill.

Then one day she was scurrying about her own city apartment, trying to get some work out while her three-year old daughter insistently cried the desire to “go to the park and see the ducks.”

“I can’t go,” she said. “I have this to do and when I’m through I’ll be too tired to walk that far.”

Frances’ mother, who was visiting, looked up from the peas she was boiling. “It’s a wonderful day,” she offered. “Really warm, yet there’s a fresh breeze. It reminds me of that day we flew kites.”

Frances stopped in her dash between stove and sink. The locked door flew open and with it a rush of memories. She pulled off her apron. “Come on,” she told her little girl. “It’s too good a day to miss.”

Another decade passed in Frances’ life. The world was in the aftermath of a great war. All evening her family had been with one of the Patrick boys, hearing about his experience as a prisoner of war. He had talked freely, but then for a long time had been silent. What was he thinking of – what dark and dreadful things?

“Say,” a smile twitched his lips. “Do you remember…? No, of course you wouldn’t. it probably didn’t make the impression on you that it did on me.”

Frances hardly dared speak. “Remember what?” she said.

He answered, “I used to think of that day a lot in prisoner-of-war camps, when things weren’t too good. Do you remember the day we flew the kites?”

Winter came, and the Frances had the sad duty of paying a condolence call to Mrs. Patrick, recently widowed. She dreaded the call. She couldn’t imagine how Mrs. Patrick could face life alone.

At the visit they talked a little of their families and changes in the town. Then Mrs. Patrick was silent, looking down at her lap.

Frances cleared her throat. Now she must say something about the loss, and Mrs. Patrick would surely cry.

But when Mrs. Patrick looked up, she was smiling. “I was just sitting here thinking.” She said. “Henry had such fun that day. Frances, do you remember the day we flew the kites?”

A kite-flying day. What was so special about that one day when work was left behind and memories were made? Why did one day sustain so many people through many decades of time?

Make a memory today. Do something to touch the deepest part of you. Consciously decide that you won’t let today become one of the those yesterdays that was just too full to take the time to love. A single moment may sustain you for years.

Thank God for memories!

Taken from the book “Look at Your World” by Paul H. Dunn – currently out of print

Inspiration on my shoulders

Schroeder. Scott. Carrie's big brother. My fondest memories are when Scott went by "Troy."

Scott is almost 6 years older than me. There were times when I hated him... like when he flung Carrie and I around like rag dolls telling us to "toughen up." There were times when I had a childish crush on him as he and his friends partied at the bonfire behind our house. And the rest of the time I loved him like a big brother.

Scott is my daily inspiration as I continue this journey of training for a triathlon. He has faced the big bad wolf twice in his life. Once when he was 18 and battled Hodgkin's disease. And now more than twenty years later he still bravely faces the wolf even as it has left cancer in his lung, brain and now spinal cord.

I have no excuses. Scott continued his bicycle riding passion after strong and experimental chemo doses. And Scott is still laughing and smiling at life even as he receives hospice care today.

What you do today is important because you exchange a day of your life for it.

I gladly exchange this day for another swim. Another run. Another bike ride. Because I can. Because God gave me my husband back. Because when I cross that finish line in June Scott will be riding on my shoulders...

The memory mile

Rain. Clouds. 4.8 miles. Our group run started out like any other. And then came the memory mile at the finish.

I was alone for the last stretch after I found my pace group and we had a nice run along the waterfront.

I slowed to a jog to be able to read the names and see the faces smiling back at me on each of the honor or memorandum posters. Beautiful smiles on faces with sunken eyes, bald heads, or bandanna covered heads next to pictures of children and parents. Uncontrollable emotion swept over me. A lump in my throat, Todd's face flashed in my mind. Our girls. Life. I was so lucky. Scott jumped into my mind. Now my throat was closing and I could hardly get a breath. I had to stop and the tears came freely. I let out a sob. I was glad for the solitude of the moment.

I got my breath back, calmed myself, and finished my run.

What you do today is important because you exchange a day of your life for it. What a day.

Here's to you wolf slayer.
Go Team.

First on the road training complete. This week I traveled from Portland to NYC for business. My training schedule called for a rest day Tuesday, run on Wednesday and Thursday swim. As luck would have it, this fit quite nicely into my travel schedule!

Tuesday was an all day flight day - no work out rest day.

Wednesday was the challenge. The 3 hour time change is a kicker. We didn't land at Newark Intl until 6:30pm est. By the time we got to the city, checked in and had dinner it was 10pm. My body still thought it was 7pm so I proceeded to stay up an hour checking emails. I faithfully set my alarm for 2:30am pst (5:30am est) for my morning run... and did it! The attached picture is proof. I also ran a personal best that morning - 4 miles, 45 minutes, 11.25 minute mile pace.

I was/am dead tired right now on my flight from JFK home, but well worth it! Tonight is group swim. I land at 5pm and should have 2 hours to get to the PSU pool.

Go Team!

3 weeks under my belt

3 weeks in and I feel great. I've started to easily add 10 to 15 minutes to my workouts. It feels so good to be on the road to optimum health while raising money for such a great cause!

Some fun things we're doing:

1. Every Thursday night is group swim. Afterwards is group sushi. This is also Todd's and my date night. Perfecto.
2. Every Saturday is a group workout of either running or bicycling. Last Saturday we hammered out 12 miles around Sauvie Island - flat beautiful farm land ride. This was also the first time Todd had been back on his bike since I foolishly took him on a 40+ mile vineyard (read: hilly) ride when I was training for Cycle Oregon (400+ miles over a week). Let's just say he does not have fond memories of biking. This ride felt good to him - I was happy! This Saturday was a 17 mile ride on the West side of Portland with rolling hills. I LOVE my bike and it feels incredible to be back in the saddle.

The garage has become my personal training center and I don't think I could be doing this without it. We have a treadmill, flat screen TV and a bicycle trainer set up.

I have started to enjoy my 5am ritual: get my cup of French Vanilla Cafe International coffee (mix), wake up at the computer by checking email and facebook, head to the garage for dynamic stretches and then my 45 minute work out of the day. I noticed that getting up and moving that early gets my brain moving and energized for the day ahead. It also means I'm ready for bed by 9pm most nights!

Mara has also noticed that Mama is working out. One morning she was up at the crack of dawn and found me in the garage on my bicycle (trainer). I was only 20 minutes into my workout and needed 30 more minutes. So I hopped off the bike, got her a pop tart, juice water, a blanket and told her we were going to have some fun. She sat on the treadmill and watched "Handy Manny" while I finished my work out.

At one point she turned to look at me and said, "Mama, you're going to have to settle down a little bit after you finish riding that bicycle. You're going real fast!" I felt good...

Today I met Sarah at the pool for a little 1:1 swim lesson which proved to be VERY valuable. I sometimes feel like I'm playing golf while learning to swim. The parallel? So many things to think about and it is pure magic when they all come together to propel you through the water. Here is my mental list: head up, legs extended/straight, roll to breathe, every three strokes breathe switching left or right, keep fingers together not apart, bend elbows at ninety degree angles when stroking the water... I'm sure I'm forgetting something.

And if at any time I wonder how I'm going to finish that mile swim I think of Scott who is undergoing both radiation and chemo right now. He doesn't complain and he keeps fighting.

Here's to the wolf slayer.

First days of training

It's official. Training has begun! I am on day three and feeling incredible. I have to say that I love the feeling of sore muscles - just sore enough to remind you of the good you're doing.

Day one was a group training in Portland. We spent time getting to know the tri team, running/jogging approximately 30 minutes total, and learning how to stay healthy with stretches (static and dynamic). What a great group of people we will be training with over the next 5 months. Ages range from young to old and levels of fitness vary that same spectrum.

Here is the only photo I have from that day so far - me jogging around the track with a mentor. It looks like I'm leading the pack. Don't be fooled. I was out of breath and barely carrying on a conversation while the mentor was effortlessly putting one foot in front of the other. I will get there!

Sunday was what the TNT team affectionately calls a "rebel workout." Basically, it is a non coach led training. I spent a quarter tank in gas borrowing a bicycle trainer from my mentor, Joie, and another quarter tank driving to Happy Valley for the training at Glenn's.

I felt like I was in good hands as Glenn is a former tri-athlete coach and certified. Needless to say, he put us through a great 50 minute bike ride using a NE fall bike ride video. I was sweating and at 30 minutes was starving! I forgot how awesome it is to feel so hungry when you are training. Glenn enticed us to finish with his special... "Glenn's naughty nuts." Before you think too much, it is the most delicious concoction of goodness I've had; bare almonds, semi-sweet chocolate chips, craisins, and walnuts (I'm sure I'm missing some ingredients). I gorged on several handfuls post the ride and will be buying some from Glenn once he starts selling them for fund raising. Smart man!

This morning I actually got out of bed at 5:11am, drank half a cup of my International Vanilla Coffee mix, and headed to the garage for my 35 minute treadmill run. It felt awesome. No knee pain (had that previously).

I'm now sitting here at the computer with my little love, Sidney, practicing her standing and cruising. Hard to believe she is going to be one in a month! Yes, 5am is early, but so worth it that I still get to see my girls in the morning!

Oh - I forgot to mention... I was the only person called out at our training and recognized for the $1,700 I have already raised. Thank you to all of you that have donated. Your generosity is incredible and you are helping so many people.

Go Team!