Need your help...

{{{First...DAD, YOU'VE GOTTA STOP READING NOW...THIS IS WEDDING DRESS RELATED!}}}

Okay...completely off topic.

BUT.

I have a situation I've found myself in where I have an extra (cough) wedding dress.

Seriously.  I kid you not.

Long story.  I'm constantly being regaled about it.  Trust me -- the humor has NOT been lost!

But now I have an eager potential buyer for the unworn, brand new dress.  She's a bridal salon owner in California and needs it for one of her brides, being married on the weekend of July 4th.  Eak for her!

I haven't spoken to her yet, but my research online has shown that she's a very shrewd shop owner and can...how can I put this delicately?...be very driven by the dollar.  

If I decide to sell the dress to her, here's my question...

...HOW DO I PROTECT MYSELF?

Do I use paypal?  Do I require payment first?  (I fear that if I wait for payment upon receipt, I may not get it and be out both payment and dress.)

New territory for me and I can't find any good resources online.

Maybe I should just list it as an item through EBay (informing her of the sale posting) and use the protection afforded through their agreements.  I'm leaning towards this option now.

What do you guys think?  Your experiences?

(okay...seriously, you can stop laughing about the second dress thing...it's funny, i know.  but really)

pssssssst

pssssst...

com'here...

guess what?

I'M ON VACATION.  FOR A WHOLE WEEK.

SHHHHHHHHHH!

not too loud.  they may hear you.

time for a long run and wedding shopping.

(giggling with delight)

Next stop?

Thanks to everyone who wrote such great comments last week. I needed that. I mean, I knew it was the right decision, but it's nice to have two dozen internet friends confirm for you that, no indeed, your mama didn't raise no fool.

Whew.

Even my Dad stepped up and sent me a note about being very proud of me and how this will be a great decision for our future.

Which, of course, means that he read that part about 'sucking monkey balls.'

And likely my in-laws did, as well.

Oh. My.

___

Now, to put your fears at rest, I will not go quietly into the night of triathlon moderation.

NO!!

I warbled around the house for about 2 days, getting all weirded out by not having anything to do at 7:00 at night. Asking whether I could go to bed that early. Sleeping so much I woke up feeling (gasp) rested. And generally feeling completely unmoored from my roots.

Because I didn't have a plan.

People, I NEED A GOAL.

I know this much is true. I always need a goal. I need something to look forward to, to plan for, to get ready for, to just plain have in my sights.

I don't fare well bouncing around the house.

So, I'm off again. Next stop? Diamond in the Rough -- an olympic (yeah!) tri that's under an hour (yeah!) away from my house. It's affordable and close. So close, in fact, that my future mother-in-law is coming to see what all the fuss is about (yeah!) and it should prove to be a fun day.

I read "technical" and "hilly" in the bike course description. Bring. It. On.

I've reached back into my library for a new plan to get ready. Honestly, I feel much more at ease with the advanced plans now that I've spent 6 months working with a coach. She forced me to test my boundaries, so I'm a little more at ease with complicated plans.

I just have to make sure I'm not SO at ease I just start skipping my workouts. Um...cause I've never, ever done that before. Neeeeevah.

So.... I'm back on the training tip and have a double session waiting for me tonight. And another two singles tomorrow. And a full week of intervals and base swims and fartleks and short rides and long runs and (of course) a brick for good measure.

Oh, and some core work. Because this little chica has her first wedding dress fitting over the weekend.

I know.

I peed myself just a little, too.

Plus, I'm going wedding shoe shopping with said FMIL tomorrow night...and we're going to bust out all girlie like and try on veils and tiaras and pretty things in the name of matrimony. And being girls.

I just hope they don't mind me showing up in training gear.

(wink)

Me, We, Three

I’m going to make light of this, because it’s the only way I can come to terms with it. I’m disappointed. Very disappointed.

So, last year I decided that it was about time I buckled down and got serious about this sport. A new bike, a new coach, a new attitude, and a lot of great races on the horizon. Soon I added a nutritionist and an ART therapist, piles of gear, and lots of traveling.

And it was a good. I was happy and wise. But somehow not so wealthy.

Seems that when you spend all of your free money on training and racing, there’s no money fairy that replaces it in your wedding savings fund or the ‘I’ve gotta move out of this dang neighborhood’ bank account.

Like, seriously....where is the freaking fairy?

Two nights ago, Mighty M and I had a heart to heart. He’s a man of few words, and being that man of few words, I know that when he says something in one of our “grown-up” conversations, I should listen.

We talked about our wedding. And our mortgage. My student loans and his outstanding obligations. We talked about needing to move before making babies (thankyouverymuch) and how much house we could afford. And when we could afford that.

And it was scary and a reality check for me. You see, all Mighty M needs for entertainment is an Xbox and zombie movies. Seriously. I wouldn’t joke about this.

Me? I’ve picked up a habit that’s a wee bit more pricey. And it’s not totally fair, you know.

And every husband or wife out there reading this probably remembers the moment the “me” became the “we.”

Well, we just had a moment.

So, I decided to pare down. EVERYTHING. And it was hard. Being responsible sucks monkey balls.

Of course, the Elf understood when I explained it all to her, and was more gracious than anyone I know. A consummate pro, in more ways than one. And you’ll see my race schedule has DRASTICALLY changed on the sidebar. I’ve pared it down to just some local races that I want to keep so I stay motivated and in shape, but won’t break the bank. I’m going to skip the rest of the halves this year and, instead, continue to build my own fitness with lots of cross training.

And maybe I’ll start needlepointing again.

Cause I have no idea what I’m going to do with all of this free time.

….

So.

I’m sad, but I know it’s the right decision. I’m part of something bigger than just my own wants and needs, now. And for that, I’m very lucky. So it’s time for a little sabbatical from my favorite hobby so, one day, Mighty M can carry me across the threshold of our brand new house and we can start making the “we” the “three.”

And that is worth it.

No Longer Just Fine

I battle with my weight.

I don't write about it much here, except when it comes into play with my Athena status. But I don't really write about it a lot.

But I think about it all the time.

I think about it when I dress in the morning and struggle with which pants will fit, I think about it when I do my ritual morning weigh-in at the office to keep an eye on the numbers, I think about it when I put my swim suit on, when I look at race photos, and athletic catalogs. I think about it when I put on my cycling shorts and when I look in the mirror after taking them off. When I pick what shirt to squeeze into and what tights to wear for the run. When I look in the mirror and see pictures of myself.

I think about it all the time. And it's not often positive.

I have always been a large woman. Big breasts, a double chin, and belly that belies my childless status. I have curvy hips and a round face. I always look like a chubby girl who carries and dresses it well.

And all of the social and psychological implications aside, its made racing and training harder for me. If you're a woman around 130 pounds, I want you to consider grabbing a 40 pound weight next time you go out for a run. Just pick it up, maybe put it in a backpack, and then do your long run or tackle some hills.

Being a large athlete is hard.

In the past, I've paid attention to my eating habits. I like whole foods and to cook, so I eat healthy meals. I have a strong, above-normal metabolism. I don't ever pig out on anything -- there's no binging. And yet I carry around more than I should.

And I'm tired of it.

I'm really tired of it.

This weekend, we got pictures from the family meet-up, where Mighty M's family met mine. It was a great time -- lots of laughter and easy conversation. And picture taking! Imagine two proud papas with their families in tow. Lots of photos.

And I was devastated again to hate the way I look in them. I saw the thick neck and double chins. The swollen looking visage and the layering outfit to conceal the ill fitting jeans.

I tired of these experiences. I'm so tired of worrying about fitting into my training gear, and how my weight is impacting my times. I'm sick and tired of it.

It impacts me more than I'd like to admit. Last week I turned down the possibility of sponsorship by a major brand name because it was possible that they would not have clothes that fit me. I had been sponsored by them before and the kits didn't fit. The bra was tiny, the running shorts were an impossibility, and the shimmel was a joke. The cycling top was horribly tight and, as a result, horribly scratchy. So I decided against sponsorship again this year. Because of my size.

And there are so many times when I sit on the stair landing in our living room, talking to Mighty M about it. How it feels when people at the gym assume I'm just starting to learn how to run because I'm heavy, talking down to me with condescending advice. How demoralizing it is to train hours upon hours each week for months and realize no benefit except being better able to carry the excess weight across the finish line. How I feel less attractive to him as a woman and as a future wife. How it leads me to frequently ask why he loves me or burst into tears when trying to dress for social events.

To date, I've been relatively silent about weight and training and (especially) the psychological wake of trying to accommodate one with the omnipresence of the other. I've been the well mannered Athena who makes it appear that she's perfectly happy with her status. But I'm not.

This year I've been working my ass off, more so than ever before. I'm more committed. I've dedicated many more resources towards my performance. And I really, really care.

Last night I logged onto the registrant list for a big race I'm doing later in the spring. The Athena field has started to fill up and, according to Athlinks, I have some very serious competition. I saw me not hitting my goals (of placing in the regional series) as a possibility. For the first time. And I know that there's something holding me back. My training is on track. I'm already realizing great improvements. I'm working very hard and changing things. But there's a limiter there.

My weight.

With all of this on my mind these past weeks, I started taking steps towards change. Tentative steps. I've never actually dieted before. I've always avoided that classification, label. It always seemed desperate to me, all rolled up in a ball of expectations and media and socialized image. My weight has fluctuated, but not because of started or finished "diets." I have had periods of skinny jeans, but they were fueled by a diet of vodka, depression, and couscous. I have healthy weight periods, too, that came during my 20s. And I've had long periods of inactivity and great weight gain. Throughout, I've never "dieted." And I don't plan to now.

But clearly...no matter how resentful it makes me feel...training alone will not make me a trim athlete. For many it will. Mighty M is starting a running plan this week to trim down for the wedding. He'll hit his goal in under two months and continue to eat crap along the way. It's just the cards he was dealt. Mine are not the same cards.

So, two weeks ago, I dragged myself nervously into the gym and got my metabolic rate checked and did a three-point calliper body composition test. And I talked to my coach about the process and the results. And I started to be more careful about calorie content each day and hitting the goals outlined by the results of these tests.

And I gained two pounds.

Thanks, body.

I know that I want to lose weight. I know I want that loss to be in terms of fat, not muscle. I know I want to continue to train properly and be fueled effectively. I know I want to remove weight as my limiter.

And now I'm beginning to realize that this will not come from just wishing it so. And resenting that I cannot just train and "be careful" about what I eat will not be the key. Something else needs to step in. I need to apply what I know already works for me, and retool it for this particular problem.

So. There you have it. I'm no longer just fine with being my weight, and I'm going to do something concerted about it. It simply has to happen. I refuse to relinquish hard-earned performance improvements to the fact that I am carrying around remnants of my old life. I have no room for its impact any more. I have no tolerance for it being a part of my life any more. It has to go.

Now.

Did ya miss me?

Okay, folks.

I'm back.

And even though I'm sure that I have only, like, three people who still read my blog, I kind of miss writing here. Not that the vacation hasn't been fun...cause it has.

But, for the sake of my future marriage, I think I should blog again.

Cause Mighty M may just kill me if I don't.

No, don't get me wrong. He doesn't READ this anymore...nah, he gave that up a while ago. I could divulge his deepest secrets here and he have no idea until someone randomly came up to him and pointed accusingly at a race next year.

No, it's more like I talk too much. WAAAAAAAY too much. And now it's not just about triathlon. Now it's about weddings AND triathlon. And Mighty M is breaking under the pressure.

So I'm going to need to get some of this out in blogging again. Beats payin' for therapy.

So. Things I've been meaning to say and haven't yet....

(1) I've decided that swim paddles are like cocaine for pool rats. The moment you put them on you're bigger, faster, stronger, and will nevereverever stop swimming. The down side? The moment you take them off you have T-Rex arms that barely drag you down the lane any faster than a sea slug. Paddle hangover, I guess.

(2) Cadence is all relative. All relative. When I started up with prep for my 2008 season, I thought 95 rpms as a "warm up" for 20 minutes was some crazy fast nutty stuff I should only do on the trainer outside of the watchful eye of the public. Now? 115 and I are friends. FRIENDS. Go figure.

(3) Single legged drills? Still suck.

(4) I've decided to get my own custom designed shirt for racing next year. People tell me all the time that I wear my heart on my sleeve and I'm an open book. (Apparently, I'm also a walking metaphor.) So I've decided on the coolest of coolest designs for a new custom race jersey. I'll reveal it dramatically at a later date. As in the later date when I have time to just put the graphic into electronic form. I'm a weeetle slow like that.

(5) I've decided to take my writing to a new level. I had a very sad loss recently -- a friend who I will dearly, dearly miss. And in my sadness, I have been searching for a way to manage this loss and convert it to something useful, for myself and others. I don't do many things well, but I know my way around a paragraph. So I've decided to turn sadness into words in a big way. A very big way. More to come for this, but it has been on my mind for weeks now.

(6) I'm still training...a bunch. My coach has been building me up slowly from the bottom and I'm starting to feel -- really feel -- the change in my confidence levels. I'm simply stronger in the pool and stronger on the bike. My running comes easier, too. And that's never happened before. I always tend to have one hiccup each week that messes with the schedule, but I'm being really good about sticking to the plan. And it's paying off. More to come on that, but it's all good.

and,

(7) I'm still getting married. (YEAH FOR ME!!) I'm still in total bliss and gush over Mighty M each day. Our future is so full of hope and joy, I can barely contain my excitement. It's exhausting, of course, finding the right place and managing the budget. I mean, who knew that photographers were that much money? My budget is good on some things and baaaaad on others. We'll figure it out, but the planning is an emotional minefield. So far, no major explosions...well, there was that one, but let's just not talk about it. Cause WE'RE GETTING MAHWEED!!

Okay, that's all from here. More thoughtful, non-bulleted writing to come. But for now, just know I'm back and thinking up crazy things to say here while Mighty M absorbs every second of televised hockey at his disposal.

Ever After...

He's my best friend. My soul mate. My safe place to land.

So when he asked, I answered.

Without hesitation, said yes.

I can imagine my life no other way.


He is my happily ever after.