Being tested

Someone out there is trying to figure out how strong I am.  Fitting, after my last post, I suppose.

Let me give you a glimpse of my last week or so.

Two weeks ago we brought our dog Buddy in for his annual exam.  Since moving down here, he's lost weight, we walk at least once, if not twice a day, etc.  He's like a puppy (albeit an almost 12 year old one).  We comment all the time about how he benefited most from moving here - he's got a new lease on life.  The new vet decided to do some blood work, simply because of his age and to get some baseline numbers. We got a call the next day that he's experiencing kidney failure.  As the words were trying to be processed, we were handed 5 new medicines, an order form for new food, scheduling dates for follow up blood draws and told that he only has a few months.  Our life kind of halted... we thought that he just gained a few years.  So we're being tested with that.

Then last Wednesday we found out that my grandfather has taken a turn in his health and hospice thought that it would be wise for the family to get in to see him.  He and my grandmother are living with dementia/Alzheimer's, but my grandfather is bleeding and will loose enough blood that at any time, he'll go to sleep and not wake up.  He's 92.  He's had an incredible life, loves my grandmother more than anything in the world, loves his children, grandchildren and great-grandchildren more than any one person can love another in my opinion.  He's been such a rock for our family, an example of what true happiness is.  I needed to see him.  I flew out Thursday morning to Raleigh.

Or should I say Thursday afternoon.  You see, I got to the airport in ATL around 7:15 for my 8:40 flight.  Security was long, but the lines were moving.  I went through security and was "randomly" selected for another scan.  That always happens to me - it seems their random machines aren't so random.  The TSA guy swiped my right hand with some gauze thing and put it in a machine.  Alarms went off.  He looks at me and says "I didn't change my gloves so let me do it again with new gloves on". Okay.  They swiped my other hand and nothing happened. The TSA guy looked perplexed and asked his supervisor what he should do. They told me that I needed to be patted down in a back room.  I waited for two women (one to pat and one to witness) and we went to a private room, you know... because I look super dangerous in my running skirt and teeshirt.  They did a thorough pat down and the woman did another swipe thingy, this time of her glove after she patted me down.  The alarms went off again. The two women whispered and the "patter" left.  The other girl asked what kind of lotion I used and said that they had to call the bomb squad up to search my stuff.  Fan.Freaking.Tastic.  At this point, it's nearly 8:20.  And for some reason they couldn't figure out how to call the gate to tell them I'm here but just being held up.  So here I am, in the ATL airport which was busy as could be with the bomb squad searching my stuff (although, it should be noted that they never searched my purse... just my suitcase).  They didn't find anything (obviously) and sent me on my way with the advice of "you better run because you're probably going to miss your flight".  Awesome, thanks.  I ran to my gate and missed my flight by about 3 minutes.  That was 8:43 and the next flight left at 2:35.  Yippie... 5.5+ hours of free time in the airport.  No better way to spend my day!  I'm telling you... I'm being tested.

I finally did get to NC.  I had a great visit, albeit emotional, with my grandparents.  They were happy, and loving and that's the way I will remember them.  I was part of their sacrament of Anointing of the Sick, I got to take pictures and videos of them, I got to be with my family, etc.  It was good.  It was hard. 

After a long, emotional weekend, I arrived home yesterday at 7:45am.  Tom was waiting for me and I just crumbled.  I think exhaustion had gotten the best of me. By the time we got home, I had decided I wanted to hop on my bike (because really, I'm never too tired to ride).  We got out around 25 miles and both were kind of "eh" about the ride.  That happens a lot lately.  We decided to turn around and come home.  Around 35 miles into our trip, we turned a busy intersection and Tom hit what he's calling "road furniture" - a huge hard white half basketball size piece of plastic that the great people of Atlanta think is going to corral traffic.  I saw it coming and couldn't get the words out fast enough.  Up he went, flying through the air.  His bike smacked first, then his body, followed by a not-so graceful roll off the road.  He was bleeding, his fork was in three pieces and I was stunned.  We gathered the bits and pieces that went flying and an amazing stranger came to our rescue, loaded us and the bikes and drove us the 15 miles home. 

I'm a good student, but please, whoever is testing me, just give me an "A" and let me move on.

Believe in "me"

My motto for this year was and still is "I believe in me". 

Funny, right?  I mean, if you've met me you probably know my personality and that I'm a fairly confident person.  I don't mind dancing to the beat of my own drum (and yes, it's a funny dance, but you should hear the beat in my head!).  I'm not worried about what people thing of me.  I present myself as knowing who I am and what my purpose is in life.

Truth be told, the confidence I show isn't the confidence I feel inside.

I've always struggled with believing that I am what people tell me they see.  I've talked a little bit about how I can't take a compliment (I am working on saying "thank you", but that's a lot harder than I thought it would be).  I'm more timid and reluctant to just say "I am pretty good at x, y and z".  I usually don't take credit for a job well done.  Instead I try to minimize it, but saying how easy it was or what I did to cheat the hard part, even if I worked my butt of to finish the job. 

That's just me.  The true and honest me.

Where the "believe in me" REALLY comes into play is with training this year.  Man oh man am I struggling with this.  You'd think that this is the first season that I've ever trained or race and that I don't know what I'm doing or what lies ahead of me.  Every swim I get bogged down with how slow I am.  Every bike it seems like the pedal strokes are harder.  Each run, I struggle to put one foot in front of the other.  I've said "I can't" more than "I will". And it's hard.  I've quit the sport of triathlon probably 10 times this season, simply because I feel like I'm not good enough and I can't do it.  I've cried.  I've kicked things.  I've used the words "hate", "suck", "chore" and "miserable" more times than I can count to describe training.

But then I have a weekend like this past weekend.  I was with my favorite training partner and great friends... people who are absolutely amazing people, inside and out.  Friends who exude confidence and do what they love because they can, not because they have to.  They believe in themselves.

And it clicks.

I may not be the fastest, or the strongest, or the smartest, but I'm better than I give myself credit for.  And while other people believe in my abilities, be it to bike up a mountain, run on a trail, or whatever, the greatest gift I can give myself is believing in me.

Family time

I love living in the south, but I sure do miss my family.  Here are some pictures from the weekend... and the cake was for my mom's birthday. :)

 

Bringing a win back to the ATL

So this past weekend I went back to THEE OH-IO (happy Kevin???).  It was the anniversary of my momma's 29th birthday and I was looking forward to a weekend of family and friend overload time.  Oh.  And a race. :)

It was my first race of the year and I'd be lying if I said I wasn't a tad nervous.  Training here has been eh to say the least and I wasn't traveling without my trusty mechanic.  But, I really wanted to go back to a course that I new and loved (plus, my sweet friend Nicole suckered me into it and promised me Noodles and Co Mac and Cheese when I was done.  Or was that me that suckered her into it?  Either way... there was yumminess waiting).

So Sunday morning I made my way to a familiar park - the one Tom and I did all of our training on for the last 6 years.  It was weird going back.  Like I was a foreinger to a very familiar place.  I'd done this race a half dozen times.  It was nothing new, but I kind of felt a little lost.

Until I saw Tracy, Jim, Zach and Nicole.  Then it was like I was where I was meant to be.  My mom and dad showed up just as I was finishing getting everything situated in transition.  We walked to the beach and got me all decked out in my wetsuit (which I think might have shrunk... yep, that's definitely what happened to it.)  My mother captured the obligatory horrible wetsuit dance pictures:

My wave was the OLY 34 and under, clydes, athenas and relays.  There were virtually no other red swim caps which kind of worried me (I could see me getting in the wrong wave), but I was right.  Before the swim, some guy said how happy he was that the water was so clear.  We all laughed because you couldn't see a thing in the murky green liquid.  Same guy mentioned that triathlon was stupid because he was up before Taco Bell closed for the night.  Loved it.  Definitely calmed some nerves.  With this being my first OWS of the year, I was prepared for the panic. It didn't happen. 

THE SWIM (1500m) 27:21 - The swim went well.  I was a tad warm in the full wetsuit, but I found some open water, some feet occasionally, and didn't get groped by too many people.  The swim was short (I know this because I'm not swimming that fast these days) and I still got beat by more than half of the participants, which is normal, but I was happy with things.

T1 1:29 - I thought that I would have a hard time getting out of the wetsuit since I told you before the it shrunk, but thankful the tri-slide worked like a charm.  I love that stuff.  Said hi to my mom.  She took another stellar picture of me.

Bike (40k) 1:10:04 (21.2mph average) - I was excited for the bike.  I love me some flat Ohio riding and like I said before, I've ridden this course many many times.  But this time, it felt so great.  I passed a bunch of people.  I played cat and mouse with a big guy who died on lap two, I climbed the "hills" at 16-17mph when I used to struggle up them.  I was a happy camper.  The one thing that was annoying was that the RD added a turn around in the parking lot which we used to pass by for the second lap in previous years.  I didn't mind this, but I minded the people who didn't come into the park for the turn around.  My parents were cheering at the entrance of the park and saw 5 go by and ignored everyone yelling that they had to enter the park before lap two. Cheaters suck.  That's all.

T2 1:16 -  Another stellar photo from my mom and Nicole cheering "Mac and Cheese, Mac and Cheese".  That makes me smile (but obviously not in this picture).

The Run (10k) 53:49 (8:41/mile average) - I left transition and asked my dad where I was at overall time wise (because somehow I was on lap 9 on my watch and had no clue what my total time was).  He yelled 1:40 and I knew that if I ran a 50 minute 10k that I would PR.  But it was getting hot.  And my legs were kind of not responding.  I hit the first mile in 8:20, but it's the toughest section of the 10k so I wasn't worried.  But then I hit the second mile in 8:20.  And the third mile I imploded.  I ate some Powerbar Gel Blast.  I took water.  But my legs were done.  The heat got the best of me.  I just wanted to keep from being passed.  And I did a decent job of it.  You have to run past the finish line around mile 4.4 and that's always hard, but I finished as strong as I could. 

And then cramped.  My calves just balled up.  It was nearing 90 degrees at that point and I felt it.  I got some water.  Rinsed my face.  Grabbed my gear from transition.  Checked the results. 

2:33:55 - 1st in AG

Not a PR, but I was thrilled.  I might have moved 600 miles away, but I was able to defend my title! :)

Mmmmm... and the mac and cheese afterward was A.M.A.Z.I.N.G (as was the company).

Gives me hope that my slow hill training is paying off.  Now if I can just do more of it...

Stay tuned for more pictures from my trip home! :)

A. Rod's ball

I'm clearing out my camera to take to Ohio with me this weekend and I realized that I'm a little behind on blog posts to go along with my pictures. :)

So last week, Tom and I went to our first Atlanta Braves game.  They were playing the NY Yankees and seeing the Yankees has been a bucket list item for Tom for a while.  We got on stubhub and found some great seats right on the first base line, 8 rows from the field with a parking pass.  SCORE!

It was a gorgeous night and besides the annoying girl who clearly thought she was too cool for school by being a Yankee fan next to us, we had a great time.  We couldn't believe how many people at the stadium were Yanks fans actually.  It felt like we were at a home game for them.  We sported out new Braves attire though and participated in the traditional braves chop.  It was fun.

So before the game, Tom warned me that we were in foul ball territory and that if I were to be playing on facebook on my phone during the game (he knows me pretty well), to always just be aware.  And he was right, there were quite a few balls that came in our general vicinity.  Then in the 8th, A. Rod was up and cranked one waaaaaaaay high above our section.  We all stood, stupidly thinking "yeah, I'll catch this pop fly with my bare hands" they way all fans do (which is really dumb in theory, but whatever).  The ball goes higher and higher and then stops and starts it's descent.  It was one of those whistling speed popups.  And it was coming right to me.  I was all excited until I realized that the ball was going to hit me smack on the head if I wasn't careful and that it was coming REALLLLLLLY fast.  So I did what any girl would do - I ducked and covered my head.  The ball hit my seat, bounced under Tom's chair and some kid behind us snagged it.  Tom thought I had gotten hit.  I think a lot of people thought that.  Immediately the security people were down at my row to make sure that I was alright.  The guy behind me was holding his hand and I turned to ask if he was alright.  He had saw the ball coming and thought that it would hit me so put his hand out.  It was coming so fast that the ball cut his hand.  But he deflected it. 

I laughed to Tom saying that A. Rod's ball almost landed on my head (which he didn't find amusing - yeah I'm like a 10 year old boy sometimes).  I was bummed that I didn't get the ball for Tom but he made a good point that if I had tried to catch it, I probably would have done some damage to my hands.  Doh.  The next pitch A. Rod hit a Grand Slam. :)  It was a fun game, even though the Braves lost.

Oh and most about the annoying girl next to me who knew every one's name on the Yankees (I don't think she really did... she had to read the scoreboard every time before she yelled... what a poser).  She she's sitting there with her boyfriend friend casual sex partner a guy and a vendor walks by with frozen slushies.  He says that he really wants one (this is the same guy who was downing a funnel cake when we got to our seats).  Anyway, this girl does one of those "ugh, really?" kind of things and then proceeds to tell him how horrible they are and how they are loaded with sugar.  I thought to myself, good for her... teaching this young man something.  Then I turn to see her explaining this as she's eating a full bag of cotton candy.  Serious. 

So I mentioned that I'm heading back to Ohio this weekend for a visit.  I'm excited to see my momma (it's her birthday on Saturday) and dad.  I'm SUPER excited to see my sister (and brother-in-law of course), but my sister has lost 40 pounds!  I am totally not going to be able to recognize her.  That's an amazing thing.  And I get to see my mother-in-law, my dear friend Nicole (who I totally conned into doing a tri with me on Sunday morning in exchange for some Noodles and Company Mac and Cheese), and my second family, the Austomes ... Jim, Zach and Tracy.  It's going to be a busy, but fun weekend.  It's hard for me to be gone from Tom for 5 days though, but I made him these to make up for me being gone.

I'm sure he'll be booking me flights more often to see the family! :)

Type 3

While I would never wish diabetes on my worst enemy, there are things far worse in the world that my family could be dealing with on a daily basis.  It's interesting to me how many times people ask me if I'm not having kids right now because of the risk that my child with be a Type 1 diabetic like my husband.  Um... nope - not having kids because I'm kind of selfish with my time and I can't imagine the sleepless nights that come with having a child.  Diabetes doesn't worry me at all.  In fact, if I do have a child and they have Type 1,  they would be a freaking rock star.  They would know so much about their bodies, their nutrition, what they can do when they push themselves to the limits, etc.   

I've written about it before (here's the post in case you missed it), how diabetes changed our lives.  For the better really.  I mean, Tom and I weren't really what you would consider unhealthy prior to his diagnosis.  We ate well.  We were running marathons.  We didn't smoke.  We barely drank.  But since Tom's diagnosis, we are much more aware of what's going on in our bodies.  Tom's become passionate about telling his story and about his amazing teammates, and me, well I will tell anyone and everyone about him and his team, Team Type 1.  We really have changed our lives because of the disease.

And I say we because diabetes isn't just a disease that Tom has.  I have it too.

Right, how can that be when my pancreas delivers insulin just fine and my blood sugar levels are naturally between 80 and 120 at all times?

Just like with most marriages, what's his is mine and what's mine is his.

No, I might not have to prick my finger 10 times a day, or inject myself with insulin 5 times a day, but I'm living with the disease too.

I'm a type 3 diabetic.

I know the ins and outs of the disease better than most.  I know what a hypoglycemic state looks like just as well as a hyperglycemic state.  I know how to change pen needles, how to prime insulin pens, how to adjust the depth of a lancet.  I can tell you what one beep, two beeps, three beeps or four all indicate on a continuous glucose monitor (I'm especially good with deciphering the beeps at 2:30 in the morning).  I can tell when Tom needs some sugar, or some insulin, or a little butt kicking on a run (all three have the same warning signs... but I'm good like that).

Last weekend I raced a 5k here in Suwanee (and PRed... woot woot), but after the race a really great lady named Dawn came up to me.  Totally random... she had gotten two bottles of water and wanted to give me one.  We started talking.  She was from Colorado, was visiting family, used to live around here, yada yada.  She asked what brought us to Atlanta.  I usually don't say Team Type 1 because although I wish everyone knew who they were, I don't know how many people actually know of them.  So I said, "my husband works for a pro cycling team based out of Atlanta".  Here eyes lit up.  "Team Type 1?".  I look at her a little bewildered and said yes.  Turns out that her two and a half year old son Sawyer is a Type 1.  He was diagnosed at 19 months.  We spent the next hour sharing stories - what drugs our boys are one, what meters they use, what CGM's they are on.  It was like I had known her my whole life.  This "horrible" disease was our common ground...and that we both are living with the disease too.

So Dawn, if you are reading this, remember... you have Type 3.  Your husband has Type 3.  Your six year old has Type 3.  I have Type 3. We all get it.  Maybe not 100% of what Tom and Sawyer go through on a daily basis, but I'd say probably 98.5% of it. :)

To learn more about Team Type 1, or to follow the amazing accomplishments of all the Type 1 athletes, go to www.TeamType1.org, follow them on twitter at @teamtype1 or like them on facebook at  http://www.facebook.com/TeamType1Page.

Aquagear

I don't usually do reviews for stores that contact me, but I recently received a really nice email from Julie at Aquagear.  It came at a perfect time, as I've started swimming again (**GASP** I know, right?) and I was in need of some gear (seems my community pool doesn't have things like kick boards and hand paddles).  I don't like going to places like Sports Authority for my swim gear (don't ask... I just don't) and well, I have yet to find a store around here that sells swim gear.  Julie must have been reading my mind.

Aquagear is a family owned and operated store out of West Palm Beach and when Julie contacted me, we discussed me just taking a look at the site, shopping around a little bit and letting her know what I thought.  She graciously gave me a little bit of money to spend as well so that I could get a few new things. 

I have to tell you, I loved the site.  It's not overly frilly and fluffy.  If you need gear for training... they have what you need.  And I was impressed with the prices and the variety.  I found exactly what I needed, the items were in stock, check out was painless and I had a box on my front porch in a matter of a few days.  **and yes, that's a swim cap that I ordered.  I have a bazillion of them.  But, this one was super cute.  If I can't swim fast, I might as well have a cute swim cap for everyone to admire, right?** 

Like I said, I'm not one to usually review stores, BUT... if you are in need of some swim training equipment, goggles, etc, check out Aquagear.  They will take good care of you.

And... if you enter the code CBKingeryBlogFiveP, they will give you 5% off.  :)
 

**And of course, here's a little disclaimer for the legal people.  The opinions of this review are my own.  I did not pay for the items that were sent to me by this company.**