It Was Bigger Than Me

Racing season's here and I'm getting nostalgic. Getting the "bug" to get out there and do it again. And if I can do it, anyone can. Anyone care to train with me?



These photos wouldn't seem all that outstanding to most looking on from the outside, but if you were me, you would realize what an accomplishment they represent. You would realize that at this very moment I am feeling on top of the world. You would realize I am feeling the greatest sense of relief. The greatest sense of accomplishment. You would realize that I just conquered something that was bigger than me.

For a long time, I'd hear of someone doing a triathlon and think, "I can't do that, because I don't know how to swim." Until one day, I thought, "Why am I limiting myself? Why can't I learn how to swim?"

That was the turning point for me. I set myself a goal. I signed up for my first triathlon the next May. I was committed. And then I asked a friend of mine who was a swimmer if she would swim with me in the evenings and teach me how to swim the crawl stroke. My swimming lessons when I was younger ended at Advanced Beginners, I think. In 5th or 6th grade maybe? At the time when I became painfully aware that the rest of the kids in my swim class were half my age. And I hadn't swam since. So she and I had a lot of work to do. I started my lessons/swimming with her in October. At some point, I became aware of the university's triathlon club. I joined. And started training with them. They were headed for collegiate nationals in April. Would I join them, they wondered? It would be a road trip to AZ. Only problem was, it was an olympic distance versus the sprint distance I had signed up for in May. Could I do it? Somehow they convinced me I could.

Training ensued. April arrived. The roadtrip was fun. Hiking in Moab, UT was fantastic. AZ in April was fantastically warm. The day before the race, we took a drive out to the race site. This is when the hyperventillating began. The hills seemed daunting. We would be biking through the mountains. I doubted I would survive. And then we arrived at the lake. Bear in mind, I'd never done an open water swim before. We all jumped off the dock with the idea we'd swim out to the first buoy and back. I jumped in. The water was cold. I started to swim. And then my mind kicked into overdrive. "How deep was this water? What was down there underneath me in the murky depths? What if I got a cramp? Would anyone be able to save me?" I succombed to complete and utter panic. "I can't do this!" I shouted and turned to swim back to the dock. I was shaking. I could hardly breath. I had visions of months of intense training swirling down the drain. I started to cry. "How far do we have to swim tomorrow?" I asked my teammates. They pointed out what they thought would be the distance. "I can't do it," I said. They told me I could. Encouraged me not to panic. Tried to help me overcome my fears. To no avail. The other girls returned from their swim to and from the buoy and I clung to the dock. Defeated.

The ride back to the hotel was awful. "Why didn't I try?" I asked myself. I was disappointed in myself and fearful for what the next morning would bring. To say I didn't get a lot of sleep that night would be an understatement. While the other girls that stayed in the room with me seemed to be sleeping, I lay wide awake staring into the darkness. "I can't do this," my mind raced. I snuck into the bathroom, shut the door and dialed Craig on my cell phone. He sat and talked with me for a couple of hours. "You can do this, Lani," he told me over and over. "You've trained for this. Just think of it like swimming laps in the pool. Don't think of the whole distance. Just swim buoy to buoy. Each buoy will be like a lap in the pool." By the time we were done, I was convinced to at least try.

Race day arrives bright and early. We drive out to the lake before the sun rises. In the desert, the temperature before the sun rises is in the lower 50s. It's chilly. The water will be even colder. I eat my banana in silence. Outwardly, I appear calm. Inwardly, I'm a bundle of nerves. I ask my teammates how far we have to swim. They point out the swim course. It's at least three times as far as I envisioned. Looks pretty daunting when you look at it as a whole. Impossible, really. I replay Craig's pep talk over and over in my mind. We set up for the race.



Race time arrives. The excitement in the air is electrical. I happen to be in the last wave - the wave for non-collegiate racers. I watch all my teammates head out wave by wave. And finally my turn arrives.



We walk out into the cold water. It's not far before you can't touch bottom. I'm tense. Breathing fast. We're all treading water waiting our turn. The race horn blows and we're off. Splashing and kicking. It's not long and I'm left behind. I quickly tire out. I accidentally swallow a mouthful of lake water. Blech. My nerves and tenseness combined with fatigue from trying to keep up with the others has me doing the back float before I even reach the first buoy. I start to half cry in between gulps of water. The guy in the kayak at the first buoy paddles towards me. "Are you ok?" he asks. I nod yes. I know if I go back to the shore, I won't be able to finish the race. "Are you sure you're ok?" he asks a few seconds later, unconvinced, "You can hang on to the side of my kayak if you need to rest." I ask if it will disqualify me and he says only if he has to take me back to shore. I say, "Ok," and reach out for the edge of his kayak, clinging to it for dear life. Somehow his presence reassures me I won't drown. I talk to him about random things while inwardly listening to Craig's pep talk. "Just swim buoy to buoy, Lani. Just like you did in the pool. You can do it. You've trained for this." Five minutes later, I feel rested. My breathing has slowed. Feeling emboldened knowing the guy in the kayak will be by my side to save me from drowning, I let go of the kayak and start swimming. It's just me and another guy in the lake now (the guy who is swimming double the distance he has to because he keeps swimming out into the middle of the lake) - the others have left us in their wake. I swim to the first buoy. And then the next. I get in a rythym. I swim around the final buoy and head for shore. Adrenaline kicks in.

When I finally reach the shore, I sob a sigh of relief as I stand up in the water. I did it. It might have taken me 48 minutes to swim something that should have taken me 30, but I did it. I survived the open water swim. Cheers from spectators spur me up the hill. But what they don't know is what I just accomplished already has me at the top of the world. It was bigger than me, but I conquered it anyway.

Rainy Days

On Saturday I had planned to do my first race since my marathon a couple of years ago. A duathlon. But mother nature had other plans. Instead, I spent an unplanned day with my boys. I hadn't had a day like that in a long time. We had no plans. Just got in the car and meandered wherever the day took us. It was nice. We started out at Panera Bread for breakfast. We went to look at motorcycles at a local Kawasaki dealership. We drove an hour south to look at motorcycles at the Honda dealership where Craig's brother works. I'm still suffering from a bit of sticker shock. I thought a bad economy equalled lower prices. Apparently, I was wrong. We drove until we found a place that sounded interesting for lunch. We drove home. We took naps. And it rained the entire day. I wouldn't want to do it all the time, but every once in awhile it's kinda nice. While driving I messed around with my camera and discovered I could do this sort of thing:



The picture of my feet is sideways. The battery died before I could figure out a way to rotate it. I was also surprised to see the extent of my forehead wrinkles. I'd like to think they represent my inner wisdom, but unfortunately I know better. The bummer was my camera battery died before I could get a picture of the boys running around outside in the mist wiping water drops off motorcycles and running them through their hair. Who needs to buy fun when we can create our own, huh?

Romance R Us

Awhile back there was some conversation about weddings and if you had to do it over how would you do it differently and such. During this conversation, I mentioned our honeymoon night fiasco and then promised a certain someone I would tell the story. So here it be.

If a person's wedding night is any indication of how a marriage will go, ours is toast.

I'm a romantic. A hopeless romantic. So I had big ideas for our wedding night. I wanted a nice hotel room. A suite to be exact. A honeymoon suite. With a jacuzzi. We planned our wedding flying by the seat of our pants. Decided we were getting married in January and set our date for May 18th. I also wasn't very experienced in the ways of finding and booking hotel rooms and the internet was not yet in full swing. I didn't go through a travel agent - just tried to handle it/figure it out on my own. Quite likely, my inexperience combined with my tendency to pack a day to the brim with every possible activity paved the way to our disaster.

The plan was this... get married, head south an hour to have our professional pictures taken and spend our honeymoon night there, as well. Turns out every (and I mean EVERY) honeymoon suite in said town seemed to be booked. Not to be deterred, I finally found a honeymoon suite available two hours further down the road in Overland Park, KS. The richest city per capita in the U.S. at the Radisson hotel. I could hardly go wrong with that. Or could I?

We had a lovely, lovely day. But by the time we left, Craig was chomping at the bit to get out of Dodge. We make it to the photographer's an hour or so later and get our pictures taken. I'm still in my wedding dress. He's still in his suit. It's getting late, so we decide not to change and head on to our evening destination. We're both excited. We had a great day. We talk about how great the day was all the way to the hotel. For over two hours we chatter.

Upon arrival, Craig parks the car at the front door and runs in to check us in. He comes back out with our room keys and proceeds to drive around to the back of the building. "What are you doing?" I ask him. I am puzzled as I'm quite sure the honeymoon suite is at the top of the building overlooking Kansas City and the quickest way to the room would be through the entrance doors. It's my first red flag, but Craig insists they told him to drive around to the back of the building, so I just assume there's an alternative route. A secret entrance I don't know about.

We grab our bags and walk towards the back entrance. Entering the doors, we encounter red flag number two. In the hallways, we have hookers and baseball players milling about. I stand there with my bags in my wedding dress and Craig in his suit with my jaw hanging open. Well, let's move along. We move along quickly.

Red flag number three pops up when just a few feet down the hallway we find ourselves standing in front of our room. "This is it?" I ask Craig. "This definitely doesn't seem like it's a honeymoon suite." He looks at the room number and confirms that, yes, this is it.

We walk into the room and from this point on the red flags are just appearing in rapid succession out of nowhere. One right after the other and they won't stop. The room is small. With two double beds. It's just a regular (and not all that spectacular, I might add) hotel room. I walk into the bathroom. There's a jacuzzi all right. A small jacuzzi bath and when you turn the lights on they have these red mood lights. Or something. Very weird. And at this point, I'm seeing red.

"I did NOT spend $X for this room. I will NOT stay in this room on my honeymoon night!" I insist. And yes, I'm starting to throw a temper tantrum. My wedding night dreams have been severely trampled on. Shredded, actually. I have no way of knowing it will only get worse.

We put our bags back in the car and drive around to the lobby. I approach the front desk and repeat what I just told Craig to the front clerk. She seems nervous and shifts from foot to foot. She disappears and talks to the manager. They come out together and explain, "No, that is not the honeymoon suite. The person who is staying in the honeymoon suite refused to leave and by law we can't kick them out. We thought you wanted a room with a jacuzzi so we put you in this room, but we didn't charge you the honeymoon suite rate, just the regular room rate."

"Are you SERIOUS?!" I ask. "You didn't think to mention that when we checked in? Just on the off chance that we might want to stay somewhere ELSE?" I think it was at this point where I started to cry. We ask if there's another hotel somewhere that they might be able to send us. They, incompetent as they are, can't seem to think of anything. Anywhere. They do, however, have a suite they say. Fine. We'll take it. They ask if there's anything else they can do for us. Did I happen to mention I'm standing there in my wedding dress and Craig in his suit? We've traveled several hours, it's getting late and it's been a long, exciting day. Can they do anything for me to make this better? Absolutely not. I hear Craig say, "Sure. What do you have?" They offer us free vouchers to eat in their restaurant. "Are you kidding me?" I want to shriek. Instead, I calmly (through tears) ask what time the restaurant closes. 9:00 p.m. It's 8:45 p.m. Do they realize how stupid this is all becoming? I turn to the manager and say calmly through clenched teeth, "I did not drive three hours here on my wedding night to EAT in your restaurant."

At this point, I start taking everything they offer. Drinks in the room? Sure. Does it have a refrigerator, because I need to keep my bouquet in a nice cool place? (I was taking my bouquet to Wichita, KS the next day to be freeze dried.) They agree to wheel up a refrigerator. And then for good measure, they throw in a fruit basket. We'll take anything we can get for free at this point. I'm exhausted by the time we get to our room. Physically and emotionally. The room? It's not great, but it's MILES better than the one we just left. They bring in the refrigerator. They leave us some sodas. There's a fruit basket setting on the counter. Once the dust settles, Craig and I decide to dig into the fruit basket.

Would you believe it if I told you our fruit basket consisted of one orange, one apple and a handful of packaged soda crackers? Icing on the cake, I tell you. I'm not even kidding.

I lay across the bed in my wedding dress and have a good cry. Craig is feeling completely at loss at how to make it better. He rubs my back and says nothing. Finally, we both decide we'll feel better after a good night's sleep. We put on our pjs, crawl into bed and go to sleep. Romantic, no? Definitely not how I imagined it.

I wrote a detailed four page letter for the Radisson hotel chain when I got home. They sent us a free night's stay to the same hotel with some meal vouchers. When we went back, we had a similar experience. The room was awful, the public pool/jacuzzi looked like you'd get a disease if you stuck your big toe in it, and the food was mediocre at best. Even when staying for free we felt like we'd got ripped off. Never again. Never again.

Funny How

It's funny how things are never as you remember them. Today, at work, I was assigned the task of finding places to eat for a group of people that will be meeting on June 1-2. It made me nostalgic for some really great dining experiences we've had in the past. One in particular was at a Greek restaurant in San Francisco called Kokkari Estiatorio. They had these fantastic window seats that opened to the street. For some reason, I remembered the windows to be a little different - more rounded, not so boxy. My mind's eye was evidently playing tricks on me. We sat in a booth situated cozily in a corner (Likely the same booth located just behind this gal's head... Katie, is it? But picture with lower lighting... early evening and candlelight). If I ever went back, I think I'd like to try to get a seat at one of the tables next to an open air window as early evening sets in during the summertime. Yum. So if you're ever in San Francisco...

I do remember specifically starting out with an appetizer that looked like this:

And ending with some dessert that looked like this (minus the Happy Birthday message, of course):



And I remember the baklava being particularly divine.

I try to forget this also happens to be the restaurant where I did a fantastic slow motion dance move. Picture this. Me with one stilleto heeled leg kicked straight out in front of me while doing a fantastic, deep back bend on one leg in a fancy dress as I artfully recover from slipping and almost falling as I made my way to the restroom. Absolutely no flailing of arms were involved. But graceful? Not so much. In my mind I'd like to think so. I didn't look to the right or to the left and kept right on walking.

*Special note of thanks to those of you who unwittingly helped illustrate my dining experience with your gorgeous pictures. I did not take these - I "borrowed" them.*

You're Life is Sooo Hard

This from a conversation that took place this afternoon after an eruption in the household calm. An eruption that Mommy quickly capped by not so calmly telling the boys to leave the room if they were going to cry about things that weren't worth crying about.

Kekoa: You're life is SOOOO hard.
Me: Who says that?
Kekoa: Daddy says it. (pausing) And you say it sometimes.

I find it interesting how many times I don't recognize my own voice when I hear it. Maybe he didn't use enough sarcasm.

10 Minutes

How is it that 10 minutes seems like eternity when you're waiting for cookies to bake, but was gone 20 minutes ago when you get on the computer? Thank goodness for timers. Anywayz... here we are making the most of our rainy day weekend. April showers bring May flowers. 'Member?

Anyone Else's Children?

Please tell me I'm not the only one whose children think it's amusing to wipe lemon slices over their hair using the juice for hair gel or spit milk in their plates when company comes for lunch. Please? Pretty please?

Isn't She Beautiful?

After a couple of years of collecting dust in my garage, my baby has been getting some good use the past couple of days. I've ridden her to work yesterday and today. And it feels so good. I didn't realize how much I missed her. Now I just need to give her a good bath. Isn't she beautiful? And if you look real close, you'll see she has "orange" on her, too.

Go, Mommy, GOOOOO!

Here's a picture of my latest back seat driver. Awhile back, Mommy Cracked posted this. And I could totally relate, because. When we're sitting in the drive thru line at McDonalds and Gavyn wants to get on with it, he yells at me, "Go, Mommy. GOOOO!" And when I try to explain, "Um... Gavyn? We have to wait our turn," he just yells all the more earnestly, "Go, Mommy. GOOOO!" Most of the time it cracks me up. As you can see, he cleans up pretty nicely on Sunday mornings, too.

Room For More?

Is there room for one more or are we destined to be a family of four? We're still trying to decide. I'm thinking we'd better make up our minds soon, though. We're not getting any younger. Sometimes when I look at family pictures of us, I see one more. Is that weird? What I need to learn more than anything, though, is to be content no matter what we decide.

Just Because

This made me laugh out loud. See if you can figure out why without cheating by reading my comment. I needed a laugh. Thanks, Jess. Backing into a parked car is NOT the best way to start your morning.

Is This Really Happening?

We took Kekoa to Kindergarten Round Up last night. He LOVED it. I think it would be ok if we sent him this year. He is VERY ready to go to school. Thrived on it. Loved it. Didn't want to leave. For various reasons, we're likely not sending him until next year. One being they're not taking any more open enrollment requests in the school we've decided on this year. But I couldn't help thinking as I sat there in a roomful of parents, is this really happening to us already?

Jumpin' on the Susan Boyle Bandwagon

So I hadn't had a chance to watch this until this weekend. They made fun of her for a few short minutes and then she knocked their socks off. Good for you, Susan Boyle! I thought people were crazy when they said it brought tears to their eyes. But guess what? I can't watch it without tearing up - might have something to do with the presentation and mood music. Whatever the case, everyone loves a good Cinderella story. And this certainly looks to be one.

The Sun Will Come Out

Spring is ever so slowly coming out of her cocoon. And I couldn't be happier. This was last week on campus. They have their annual celebration and if the weather's nice, we usually try to spend lunch there once during the week, if possible. Ride our bikes to the scene. My boys enjoyed meeting me for lunch on central campus last Wednesday. $8 bought us all cookies, sandwiches and lemonade.

Family Game Nights Begin

Some day maybe this:






will turn into this. If we're lucky.

About 33 Years Ago

We've been having the most amazing weekend we've had in a long, long time. Lots of special visitors. I almost can't believe our good fortune.



So. The man on the far left? About 33 years ago, he claims to have spent some time carrying me on his shoulders around the farm where I grew up. I was...oh... let's say... about Gavyn's age. He graciously didn't mention the fact that I also wet my pants and soaked the entire back of his shirt on one of those said occasions. I might have brought it up anyway. He was gracious about that, too. It was pretty nice to have him come to our house for the first time. Ever. I hope it's not the last, but if it is, I'll just be content and happy that it happened once.



And tonight... the boys were pretty happy to have Diane reading them stories. Moments like these make my heart happy. Lots of love to go around and it is wonderful. Pay no attention to the laundry that's about to fall on her head. What? At least it's clean. Unfortunately for them, we treat our guests the same as family.

Our Song

I was inspired recently to figure out a way to share the song "Never Forget" I keep referring to. You know... the one where Craig turns his hat backwards and serenades me while driving down the Interstate on a beautiful summer day with the windows down. Let me know if you can't hear the song from the link. I haven't yet figured out how to make it a part of my playlist. I think it might not be "approved" by the artists to add. Here it is on YouTube:



Also? I've added a "playlist" on the sidebar of some of my favorite songs. "A Groovy Kind of Love" by Phil Collins goes WAY back to my high school days. The others are more recent favorites.

I have a question for you, though. Does the playlist on blogs annoy you? Should I make it so that it only starts if you click play? Does it make my page load slower for you?

Also... do having lots of pictures uploaded in a post make my page slower to upload?

Just curious.

Gloves Come Off

This year, the Easter Bunny's gloves came off. No more "freebies" except for maybe a couple for Gavyn. Here the boys are looking for the Easter egg they know is there, but is well hidden. Do you see it?



Here's a hint:



Craig and I knew it was there but weren't tellin'. No big deal. Kekoa just asked Grandma M. where it was when she came around the corner. One thing about it. If you won't tell, he'll keep asking until he finds someone who will. He's a persistent little bugger. Hits all the angles until he gets what he's after. Wonder where he gets that from?

Operation Easter Egg

I am pleased Kekoa is showing an affinity to creative projects. He was especially anxious this year to get on with the Easter egg dying already. We had a houseful of family at our place for grilled lamb burgers on Saturday evening so I didn't quite get around to getting it done during the day. That's ok. As you can see, it lent itself very nicely to having lots of helping hands to complete the task that evening after we ate. Thanks, Grandma M. for boiling the eggs.

I see that last year I had big plans to attempt this in 2009. Didn't get done. Guess I'll see if I have time to give it a whirl next year.