Ringing in the year!

Ring in the New Year!

 

 

Here is to another year behind us and one of promises ahead!  I’m going to ring in the New Year at home, grateful for all the things with which I have been blessed. I plan to make some changes in the coming year.  They will be subtle, I am sure! I plan to continue to strive to take care of my health, so long as that effort is enjoyable.  After all, I do believe in moderation! I want to better tend to family relationships – just because. I am still defining my spiritual goals, but I am pretty sure they will have something to do with diligence and scripture study. I hope to publish more and sell more, mostly because I want to share what I write and because the best part about being an author is the positive feedback from readers!

Today, I celebrate New Year’s Eve because it marks a special anniversary for me.  I met my husband on New Year’s Eve.  Driven to traverse the Southern Idaho winter wilderness on this day 29 years ago, I met him at a social event – one I swore was never the place I went to meet someone special, rather to commune with friends I already knew.  One of those friends happened to introduce us that evening and it has been an adventure ever since!

Happy New Year to you all!



It's All Uphill!

I live in a hole.

I am not complaining that my life is the pits or that I am stuck in a rut, the statement is literal – not figurative. I live in a geographical hole.

I was reminded of this around 5:00 am when the rich aroma of a local polecat found its way into my home and interrupted my slumber! Burning leaves, smoldering grass piles, and skunk scents from around the neighborhood often creep down the streets and into my space. The heavier the air – the richer the aroma. It was foggy this morning!

Living in a hole offers a bit of privacy. The neighbors above us view our roof rather than gazing straight through our windows.

Although the aromas are annoying, they are few and far between. The inconvenience of hole dwelling becomes a greater issue when one desires to exercise providing, of course, that one is a runner or a biker … and we are.

“It's uphill in every direction.” A common complaint in the Green household. This is only partially true. There is another path that begins on a downhill slope, but it is less desirable as it encounters more traffic and population. It also requires a hill climb at the end of the workout to return home!

So we run and we ride and we whine … and we pray that the wind doesn't blow, because the only thing worse than running uphill is running uphill with a headwind!

When someone quotes, “There's no place to go but up,” we take it literally!

No More Excuses

My family either believes I WANT to get in shape, or they believe I NEED to get in shape. How do I know this? Here is my Christmas list of items received ...

One Road Bike
One Indoor Trainer - see photo
One Sportline Watch
One Pair of Yaktrax

Whew! I'm tired just thinking about using all this stuff!

It was a pretty good haul. I have yet to try out the road bike due to the frigid temps. The wind chill factor created by added speed from such a fast set of wheels has kept me on my feet and off my bike. I am anxious for a warm day!

The Yaktrax are still in the box because the roads, although frigid, are dry and I have not needed extra traction the few times I have gone for a run since opening my Christmas gifts.

I am learning to use the Sportline watch, complete with Heart Rate Monitor, Calorie Burn Calculator, Timer, and Stopwatch. It takes some coordination and practice. I have found it useful as a motivator to push a little harder to run a second mile a little faster than the first. Learning about Heart Rate Target Zones has aided me as I begin using the other toy ...

The Indoor Trainer! It's harder than it looks. In order to keep the road bikes free and ready to hit the pavement the minute a warm day arrives, we mounted a mountain bike on the trainer. Those who know KNOW that riding a mountain bike requires a lot more effort than does a road bike. The trainer is in a cool room with a ceiling fan. Here is what I have learned ...

Five minutes - Getting warmed up. (14 mph. Heart Rate - 125 bpm) Music is a motivator.

Ten minutes - Sweat drips from my face. (16 mph. Heart Rate - 135 - 140 bpm) Important to have a towel handy. No wind chill factor here.

Fifteen minutes - Quads are burning. (18 mph. Heart Rate - 150 - 160 bpm) Try to hold steady for five more minutes.

Twenty minutes - The towel is wet. (16 mph. Heart Rate - still pretty high!) Five more minutes to cool down!

Twenty-five minutes - It takes two more minutes for my legs to stop their rotation!

The watch keeps me motivated. The speedometer on the bike gives me a target for my heart rate. An iPod helps pass the time, as does checking my heart rate occasionally. It's all in my house.

No more excuses!

Lucky Friday

I was only trying to show my niece and her daughters a good time at Bogus Basin Ski Resort. The mountain I learned to ski upon. The mountain we frequent a dozen times every year. My Mountain!

Spring skiing is so great! The weather is enjoyable. Nobody cries to go indoors because they are freezing. You can get a suntan.

Never mind there was a plane to catch. Never mind there was a track meet to attend. Never mind the snow was rapidly turning to slush. It was Spring! Spring skiing is so great!

Never mind I’m pushing fifty. Never mind I decided to take an alternate route and six-year-old Shyan decided to go with me. Never mind my cell phone was losing its charge.

Never mind I misjudged my location! Never mind my brother-in-law is Director of Mountain Operations and would kill me if he had to send search and rescue! Never mind, never mind, never mind!

But mind I did when I realized we had two choices. We could take the path of least resistance and slide down into a gully that must come out somewhere. I minded that I had seen others in that gully and I knew I didn’t want to be stuck in there. Or … we could climb ever so slightly and come out on my favorite run. Or so I thought!

Never mind my favorite run was two crests away! Those crests were separated by ravines.

So up we climbed up … and down. Then up … and down. Shyan was beginning to show signs of panic. This apparent from the ascent up the music scale and increase in volume of her cries of “Aunt Carol, where are we?” and “Aunt Carol, are we lost?”

“No Shyan, we aren’t lost. We’re at Bogus Basin!” That was all I was certain of – we were at Bogus Basin and Shyan had a plane to catch to visit her father in Seattle. Oh, and I was also certain I didn’t know how I had led her to the place I had, nor how I would lead her out! I hoped Shyan couldn’t hear the panic rising in my own voice.

When things seem really bad, they usually find a way to get just a little bit worse. That’s how it was when I triggered a mini avalanche sliding fifteen feet down an extremely steep slope. I had been attempting to lead Shyan to safety, coaxing her to sing “Do as I’m Doing, Follow, Follow Me!” an old Sunday School song, in an attempt to keep her panic at a manageable level.

The effort required to climb while lugging six-foot-long skis and ski boots on my feet was beginning to exhaust me. I was hot, so I opened the zipper to my jacket, removed my gloves and hat, and made a fruitless attempt to use my cell phone. It probably would not have found a signal if the battery had been charged. We shall never know.

After my unfortunate slide, I could not see Shyan for she was positioned above me and behind a tree. My legs began to tremble and I feared that I was exhausted. Shyan was crying that her leg hurt. I did not know if she was safe or injured. I began to panic. We were alone in an area other skiers were unlikely to venture and I had no way to signal our location.

I could not call for help, and yet I did. I cried out loud, “Father! Help me!” There was no need to explain my predicament, for HE surely knew! Calmness came over me and my thoughts were clear. I knew what to do. I removed my skis and used them much as one would a tree limb hanging over a river bank. I jammed one into the side of the mountain and then the other pulling myself up and jamming the toes of my boots into the snow with each step – a little higher - slowly climbing to safety. I slipped a time or two, but never so far back as I had begun and I continued to progress.

When I arrived at the origination of my decent, I rested a moment, still unsure as to where we should go. We were lost at Bogus Basin. I continued to assure Shyan that we were inside Bogus and we couldn’t be lost because Uncle Steve would find us as long as we were still inside Bogus. I dreaded the moment I faced Uncle Steve!

As I stepped into my skis – a monumental task considering the degree of my fatigue – Shyan pointed to a small rise and asked “Aunt Carol, can we go up there?” There was a large outcropping of rock on a small knoll. It looked as good a place as any. I still had no idea how to get to the safety of the ski lift at the bottom of the hill. Only one problem, it required a little more climbing! The snow was very loose and the going precarious but we carefully made our way to the top of the knoll. I stopped to rest. My trembling legs welcomed the reprieve.

“Lucky Friday!” Shyan shouted.

“Huh?” I panted. I think it was a Thursday.

“Lucky Friday!” she repeated.

I followed the direction of her outstretched arm and beheld a black ski run sign that read “Lucky Friday.”

“Aunt Carol, can we go there?” This time she pleaded!

I laughed, relieved that we were indeed still at Bogus Basin and we had actually discovered a marked run. It was a run I dreaded because I knew its location, the black double diamond marker, and the condition of the snow combined to create a challenge I would not welcome even if my legs were fresh, but it was a marked run and it would eventually lead us to safety.

I could not keep up with Shyan as she sped as quickly as her short skis could carry her through the trees to where she knew her mother was surely waiting. I picked my way through the maze stopping often to rest and make a very ugly, very novice-like turn to avoid a tree.

Much laughter ensued when we emerged from the trees at the bottom of the hill. It was the nervous laughter of relief, followed by a few tears. Uncle Steve was nowhere to be seen, for which I was extremely grateful. The search and rescue had not yet been activated. I would live! My nephew, Nathan, Uncle Steve’s boy who grew up on the mountain asked, “Did you see Castle Greyskull?” Castle Greyskull was the name he and his brother had dubbed the outcropping of rock that Shyan had determined we should follow.

“Yeah, I guess we did. And we came out on Lucky Friday!” I added.

“Did you actually see the Lucky Friday marker?” he asked a little amazed.

“Yeah, we did,” I panted. “I didn’t know there was a run called Lucky Friday.”

Nathan shook his head and quietly stated, “I’ve never seen the Lucky Friday marker.”

How often do events occur that prove both comical and very earthshaking at the same time? The family had a lot of laughs about Aunt Carol getting Shyan lost at Bogus Basin. It is a story that will be told for years amongst the skiing and non-skiing relatives alike. What a joke! Carol got lost at Bogus and Shyan had to find the way out! Yes, we all make light of it. But for me, it was sobering. How quickly did I turn the wrong way when I felt certain I knew what I was doing? How scared did I get before I turned to the only source that could help me? And even after that, I continued to slip, never so far down as the first time, but it took increased effort and many attempts before I reached my goal. And what of the child? In the Book of Mormon it states, “The wolf also shall dwell with the lamb, and the leopard shall lie down with the kid, and the calf and the young lion and fatling together; and a little child shall lead them.” (2 Nephi 21:6) How often does one overlook the faith, optimism, and humility of youth? I was fortunate. On that “Lucky Friday,” or Thursday, I was reminded of several lessons, most especially to remember to exercise the humility of a child.

Looks Like Fun, Right?

I know, some of you think it is crazy to play in the snow, but what else are you going to do about it? Complain?
"I just don't like the cold."
"Winter lasts such a long time."
"I wish it would warm up and melt all this white stuff."
Complaining won't change the weather so you might as well learn to live with it. Here is a short tutorial on how to embrace the season!
Layers. I'm not talking about a new haircut. Never in the history of mankind have there been so many comfortable and convenient ways to brace against the cold. From affordable silky thermal underwear (Fruit of the Loom) to fleece outer clothing, warm stuff is available so go get some - or ask Santa for something warm. You don't have to resort to curling up in a Snuggie unless, of course, that is your thing!
Find a winter hobby - something you can only justify during the cold weather, such as skiing, snow shoeing, or reading everything ever written by Clive Cussler. (That should kill some time!) If you save the hobby for winter months, you'll find yourself looking forward to snow fall.
Find the sun - even if you have to drive. It is amazing the healing effects a few warm rays can have on ones emotions. Even if those rays can only find the tip of your nose because the rest of you is covered in fleece, they will warm your soul.
Finally - refrain from complaining! Negative self talk will only make you miserable, as well as those around you. After all, some of us are trying to enjoy ourselves!
Wanna play in the snow?

Ski Season

The snow has fallen! I don't remember the last time my favorite ski resort was open in November! Here we are clear into the third day of December and the Greens have not yet hit the slopes. The boys are getting restless! The master of the house is beginning to twitch!

It creates a bit of a problem, this early season opening. I had not planned to commit my Saturdays to the ski hill until much closer to Christmas. After all, I am still a football junkie! The transition goes something like this ...

1 - Clothing. Rather than don a favorite team shirt and lounge pants, participants now must layer on warm and wicking base layers and waterproof outer layers. Gone are the fuzzy socks and slippers. It's time to cram ones foot into unyielding ski boots. Helmets, gloves, and goggles are also part of the required attire.

2 - Alarm Clock. Yes, I have to set it on Saturday.

3 - Food. No more various snacks and main courses dubbed "tailgate food," it is necessary that the meal now fit into the small crock pot (this I love!) that plugs into the dashboard lighter. Chips and sodas are allowed as the physical activity provides a bit of justification. In addition to regular breakfast, a cream filled Bismark is often consumed on the drive up the hill! Ironically, this meal is often consumed on an actual tailgate as opposed to the tailgate food that is consumed in front of a TV!

4 - Equipment. The remote control has been traded for skis, boots, poles, goggles, helmets, jackets, gloves, and ski passes.

5 - Recovery. Much the same with the addition of ibuprofen consumption.

And so it begins ...

Ice Rink Hi-jinks!

My sister, Kaye, is nothing if not charitable. She is also very creative and crafty. If there is a useful item that can be crafted by hand, Kaye will attempt to reproduce it. So it was that seven-year-old Gary came upon his Clown Pants. They weren’t really clown pants they only appeared to be such. Bright colors and parachute fabric were not to become popular apparel materials for many years to come. Gary’s pants were definitely before their time.

The bitter winters in Eastern Idaho call for added protection from wind and weather, especially for recent Floridian transplants. Kaye, the Do-it-yourself-er, fashioned a pair of baby blue “warm-ups” to keep her offspring dry and comfortable as he trudged to and from school. Unfortunately, the bounteous yards of fabric she used gave one the impression Gary was wearing a pair of Princess Jasmine’s harem pants! He dutifully donned the voluminous pants and marched to and from school enduring the bitter teasing of his school mates – and his aunts!

Hoping to ease his transition from tropical Florida to near Arctic conditions, Gary’s aunts determined to teach him to embrace the cold. We took him ice-skating!

In addition to his clown pants, Gary wore several layers on his upper half and a fuzzy stocking cap. He was forced to wear a nice white pair of girls’ ice skates. When he took to the ice, it was as if a cartoon character had come to life. Rather than wait for instructions, Gary attacked the rink with gusto! He began at one end of the rink using the toe pick – the jagged teeth at the front of a figure skate blade – for traction. Running the length of the rink, his legs whirring like fan blades, the sharp length of the skate blade never making contact with the ice, Gary stopped with only a few yards left before running out of rink. He appeared suspended in air as his legs whirred past one another. Then Gary would suddenly flatten his feet. They promptly slid in front of him as his softer more cushioned parts dropped onto the ice. Most victims of skating falls take a moment to evaluate well being and examine for broken body parts. Not Gary! He bolted upright facing the direction from which he had just arrived, and repeated the activity – step by step – whir by whir – crash by crash!

His enthusiasm was enviable. We had not, however, the energy to join him as we were spent from chuckling.

At length, his doting mother could no longer contain her curiosity, or maybe it was her concern for his welfare, and she joined us. Few can emit a full bodied laugh as does my sister. Our entertainment was now twofold – Gary, whirring and splatting while his mother shook with glee.

We tried to teach. Our attempts to slow Gary’s efforts in hopes that he might gain some control over his movements were futile. He repeatedly attacked the ice with gusto. The silly looking pants added to the visual effect. He truly appeared as a cartoon character and his enthusiasm never waned.

How often do we quell a person’s zeal in an attempt to improve his skills? Would it be better to let them be that they might live in the moment? I don’t know the answers, but I do know that I will never lose the image in my mind of Gary on Ice!

New Again

Several years ago I was suffering from a physical ailment. It came on so gradually that I did not know how poorly I felt until I began to recover. I felt a bit like these shoes … Let me introduce you to my running shoes. I put six miles on them last Saturday. I can't begin to imagine how many miles they must have covered in their career. I am a bit afraid to know. Running gurus would chastise me for keeping them for so long! Notice the gel heel inserts in the right shoe. They (yes, there are two of them) were placed there to lessen impact and alleviate the discomfort of an inflamed Achilles tendon. Closer inspection will reveal fabric wear at the top of the ankle and on the inside edge of the ankle as well. The first from sliding these shoes off after a run, and the second from rubbing the opposite tread against it on the run! The mesh on the outer toe is also beginning to break down.


Take a look at the tread. What tread? There should be much more pink, but it has worn away, especially on the outer edge of the heel. Why, one might ask, did I let them get so out of shape? Well, much like my health concerns of a few years ago, it came on gradually. After all, if they were good enough to wear on a run on Wednesday, then they should have been good enough to wear on my Saturday run. If they were good enough Saturday, wouldn't they still be good enough today or tomorrow? And so it goes. It is easy to delay change. Change, as we all know, is frightening. What if I purchased new shoes and discovered I didn't like them. What if the change was a mistake?

Look at my new shoes! Pretty, aren't they? I have yet to take them for a test run, but I love them already! No wear and tear! No gel inserts!

Check out that tread!

It wasn't until I brought them home that I realized how truly awful my old runners were. They even look faster! I can't wait to take them for a test run!

The moral of this story is:

Don't be afraid to try something new. That old comfort zone of yours may not be as nice as you might think!

Speedwork

My running partner and I committed to the 2010 YMCA Christmas Run. It's a little longer (6.1 miles) than our usual races, so I downloaded a training plan from the SMARTCoach program on runnersworld.com. It is individualized - recent race times, how hard do you want to train, what day do you want to do a long run, etc. are entered and then it spits out a plan just for you ... or so it says.

Today's workout was "Speedwork." Speedwork is similar to interval training in that the total run of 5 miles is broken into a warm up, timed portions, jogs, and a cool down. It's those timed portions that got to me! I had to run a half mile three different times in a specified length of time. I remember the days when my goal was just to run a half mile without stopping! SMARTCoach spit out a pretty fast half mile pace - fast, that is, for me! The good news is that although my first two timed portions were a bit over the target pace, my third was several seconds under. I'm sure it helped that I was finally warmed up (35 degrees outside this morning) and that the only hill was a short incline.

I'm really hoping this Speedwork will pay off because my legs are really tired now! I have to go now - I have a Cross Country race to watch. Those crazy kids! Why do they like to run 3.1 miles?

Just a Formality!

While I was busy doing my best to get a PR (Personal Record for all you non-running fans)my sisters and company were making the most of their journey. Notice the tuxedos? That's right, the Nelson girls managed to get a formal escort across the finish line! Maybe we SHOULD have gone for Gofer Girls, cuz we always go fer boys!

We Did It!

I'm having technical difficulties. My photos aren't uploading well. This one only tells part of the story, so I'll narrate the rest.

Two years ago I ran my first 5K at the St. Luke's Women's Fitness Celebration in Boise, ID. It was an overcast, rainy day and proved to be a very difficult challenge for me. I was hysterical at the finish line, not knowing whether to laugh or cry. We made a hasty get away to avoid the onset of hypothermia.

Last year I ran again. I beat my previous time by two hundredths of a second! I'm not sure that even counts. I was running injured as my Achilles tendon had been giving me fits for several weeks. My right leg was taped from knee to arch. This time I convinced my daughter and my niece to join me. They both had young babies. They both finished well ahead of me. We made a hasty get away to feed the infants.

This year was a bit different. My daughter and leg taper could not attend. My niece ran ahead of me again. (Those youngsters are fast!) We both beat our times from last year. I cut nearly two minutes off my time! I'm pretty sure that counts! We had a leisurely day at the park enjoying our complimentary breakfast and frozen dairy products. No hasty get away this year!

Two friends from Parma joined in the walk, as well as, four of my sisters, another niece, my niece's mother-in-law, and several of the Jefferies clan. I am certain the Jefferies had a wonderful time. Sadly, we never found each other. It's easy to get lost amongst 13,000 women!

Here are some highlights of the day ...

1 - I beat my time.
2 - Nobody took the short cut.
3 - Creamsicles.
4 - Guys in tuxedos.
5 - Barb tried to cheat.
6 - Barb didn't know she was trying to cheat.
7 - More creamsicles.
8 - Sarah crossing the finish line.
9 - Melanie's quotes.
10 - Finish line photo (see above)
11 - Clear blue skies.
12 - Did I mention creamsicles?

It was really that hot!

What do you do in the summertime when it's one hundred degrees outside?
If you are as crazy as me and my friends, you squeeze your head into color coded swim caps and swim in a pond for one quarter mile taking care not to ingest the fuzzy green pond water.

Then you hop on a bike and ride like mad for six miles, all the while smiling for the camera just in case someone is snapping a shot.

After the bike ride, jump off your bike and run for two miles (or maybe walk just a bit) while volunteers offer cups of water to splash or drink - or both - until you reach the finish line. Then you can consume pizza and fruit and all the water you can hold.

Go home. Sleep it off. In the morning, you can hunt for another race to run!

Look Who's Whining Now

I'm the one that taught this kid to ski when he was whining that he just preferred to kneeboard - he didn't want to learn to ski. Now, he's the first one in the water every time. We started that practice when he was little, because he was the baby. It helped to minimize the whining!

Now - he just likes to show off. Wonder where he got that? Last week he graduated to his dad's ski. Look out! There's no living with him now!

I have never been able to get that low to the water. Fear? Maybe. Not tough enough? Maybe. Too old? Maybe. Guess I'll just have to play the "Grandma" card. Or, there is always the "I brought you into this world" card. Whatever. He's been a great student. Taught him everything I know!

Warning Signs?

We embarked on a long awaited bike ride through the country. We estimated the route to be about 20 miles - a nice Saturday morning ride. The route had been planned for weeks. The weather was nice. Nothing would keep us from our goal, not even the Fourth of July flag raising ceremony others were attending. This was our chance!

"Detour Ahead" only means detour if you don't live in the area, are afraid of gravel, or believe road construction truely means men will be working, right? It was a Saturday. There would be no workers, after all, this is a government job. Gravel is a fact of life in a farming community. If you don't believe it, just take a look at my windshield. Bikes can weave their way through any construction barricade. Right?

We turned left.

Someone must be reinforcing a bridge up ahead. It's Saturday. We'll just pedal across.

We would definitely need to weave through some barricades. We might even need to carry the bikes if the terrain was too rough, but it shouldn't be very far ...

Hmm. A barricade ... and a truck.

Yet another warning sign. "You have exactly 500 feet to turn back!" We had already come seven miles, surely we wouldn't have to turn back now!

The bridge must be beyond that truck. Time to get off the bikes and walk around the big truck blocking the bridge.

More construction equipment. It's called a track hoe. It's often used for clearing debris from irrigation canals in early Spring. Why would it be needed to reinforce a bridge?

What bridge!

If we just carry the bikes along the cement retaining wall, lift them over the rail and onto the metal beam, walk them across the beam, lift them down onto the cement retaining wall on the other side of the canal ....

Then maybe we could finish our long awaited twenty mile (22.9 to be exact) bike ride. And so we did!

(Note to self: In the future carry a camera on all adventures. This photo would have been oh so much more exciting with him in his bike shorts, helmet, and gloves actually lifting the bike!)

Is there a moral to this story? You pick.

"Ignoring warning signs and promptings is foolish and will only lead to trouble."

"Don't let anything discourage or detour you from your goal."

"Always be prepared, ie. carry a camera!"

"When someone says 'I think it is 20 miles,' expect it to be longer and know that there will be obstacles to overcome."

What a Pain!

Someday I’m going to write another book entirely about pain. In the meantime, I’ll share a few thoughts about the subject. I do not believe that life should be lived pain free. Rather, the goal is to live life in spite of pain.
I am a runner. This is a relatively new definition of me. I began running two and a half years ago. I don’t especially love running. Running loves me.
Why I run …
It is a cheap form of exercise. The only equipment needed is a good pair of shoes. No membership fees, no fuel expenses, nor any special gear is required. A few cute running shirts and pants are fun, but they are not critical to participation.
It is convenient. Just step out the front door.
It improves other parts of my life. I have greater endurance during other activities such as waterskiing and snow skiing. It makes me sweat and that has to be good. I have a great blood pressure reading.
I am afraid of age onset diabetes.
What I have learned …
Running hurts. As a non-runner I often supposed that running was easy for runners. It is not. If running were easy it would be called walking.
Injuries happen. They are mostly of the strain and tendonitis type, but injuries do happen.
RICE. Rest. Ice. Compression. Elevation.
Vitamin I. (Ibuprofen)
Pain does not always mean “Stop!”
Pain sometimes means “STOP!”
Where the fun is …
Racing.
5Ks and 10Ks.
Sprint Triathlons.
It’s not about them (those real runners passing me) it’s about me.
Talking about the races. Wearing the goofy race t-shirts. Thinking about the next race. Cheering on fellow racers. Looking around and seeing how far you’ve come.
Mostly, the fun is, knowing you are doing something painful today that will help you stick around longer tomorrow.

Ugh! What was I thinking?

Well, I did it again. Is there something wrong in my brain that makes me do difficult things just for the fun of it?

My very young daughter (she’s young to me) wanted company as she competed in her first mini triathlon. What could I say? After all, she’s my daughter. I could have said any number of things such as, “Are you nuts?” or “I’m a grandma!” or “It’s at five thousand feet!” Hey, I think I said all of those.

I drug my feet. No training for the 300 meter swim. Swimming is my strong suit. I hadn’t been on a bike in months. It’s too wet outside. Two miles wouldn’t be too difficult, I reasoned. One mile run. One mile is just a warm up, right? Sure, but not after the swim and bike ride, and especially not at five thousand feet!

I touched the pool wall at the same moment as my very young daughter. We were both feeling confident as two swimmers were still splashing away in the pool. Here’s the tricky part – we pulled on tight running pants and shirts over wet swim suits. Slipped into our shoes, sped out of the pool door, around the building, and across the street to another facility containing bikes and an indoor track. Did I mention it was January?

Did I mention we were in Utah?

Five thousand feet?

I’m certain I mentioned that!

Sliding my wet bottom onto the slick bike seat, I began to pedal as fast as my burning lungs would allow. I also began to slip behind. I also began to slide off the bike seat! My very young daughter hit the track about a minute and a half ahead of me.

Then the five thousand feet came into play.

I hit the track and in about a minute and a half I also hit a wall!

I reside and train at a comfortable two thousand feet, my lungs happily filled with dense air. The air at five thousand feet is not so dense! I managed to finish my race, lungs bursting in an attempt to absorb enough oxygen to keep me conscious.

I finished five minutes behind my very young daughter. After all, running is her strong suit.

I ingested about a gallon of water and passed on the bagel and cream cheese. I surveyed my competition.

College students - all of them.

I could be their mother! Oh, except for the old guy. He won the whole thing!

Yay for old guys!

The Verdict is In!

Yes! Nuts! However, I was far from alone. I was also underdressed, at least in the costume category. Cousin Eddy from Christmas Vacation was there in his short bathrobe, Elmer Fudd hat, Budweiser can and cigar, and hose to drain the RV holding tank! Also present were several elves, lots of Santa's, and a few men in red longhandled underwear! My favorite was the guy dressed up as Winter. He had the best hairdo!

About the run ...

a) The weather was about right. I had to shed the headband and gloves along the way. This didn't help my hairdo, but who cares at the end of 6.1 miles?

b) Choirs, cheerleaders, and water stations were a bit sparse!

c) Thank goodness for running buddies!

d) Thank goodness for country music on the iPod.

e) I really wanted to turn right with the 2.5 milers!

f) The hill. Bad. Really bad! I thought I died and went to Hell, but then they must have had a change of heart. When I hit the downhill it felt like Heaven!

I'll probably do it again next year. Maybe I'll wear a costume. I wonder where one can find a really big Planter's Peanuts can?

Am I Nuts?

Red and white striped gloves? Check.
Fleece headband? Check.
Green running shirt? Check.
Running playlist? Check.
One point five mile warm up run? Check.
Ibuprofen? Check!
Fluids? Check!
Carbo loaded? Working on it.
Nuts? Yes, I am!

Who talked me into running in the YMCA 10K Christmas Run, anyway? Oh right, that was me! This race isn't even called a "fun" run. It's just a run. Just over six miles, one and a half miles of which are uphill, it's what everyone wants to be doing the last Saturday before Christmas - right?

I hear there is a costume contest. I'm pretty sure I can't run in a costume. My green shirt and candycane gloves will have to suffice. Too bad I couldn't just enter the costume contest and forget the run!

I'm thinking there is going to be mud. What goes up, must come down, and the reverse of 1.5 miles uphill is a half mile downhill trail. Maybe I can slide.

There are bagels, hot soup, and hot chocolate at the end of the run. Ever tried eating after a six mile run? I suppose I could stash the bagel and eat it later. I may have to pass on the soup! But I'm pretty sure I paid for it with my registration. Yes, I actually paid to get up early to go do something painful and often nauseating on the last Saturday before Christmas! Hey, I'm getting a new T-shirt out of the deal. At least, I am not the only one. There are a few hundred other "nuts" who will be joining me, ages ranging from 13 - 69. Both genders. I guess you could say we're a bunch of mixed nuts.

Wish me luck!