Lost on an Island

Today signifies the first day of summer. At least for me. This was the first of a series of triathlons and run races that I have signed up for throughout the summer, and I couldn't have started this season on a better day.

Today was the Motor City Triathlon, on Belle Isle in the great city of Detroit. I had signed up for the Olympic distance as opposed to the sprint distance, basically since I felt that I could pull it off even though I haven't trained a lick in three weeks. Other than still being somewhat in shape after having finished my half ironman in May, it's mind over matter, as far as I'm concerned.

I awoke at four in the morning to a clear sky, a slight briskness in the air and singing birds; a good sign that this would be a great day for a race. I arrived on Belle Isle at around 5:30am and picked up my registration packet. The Motor City Triathlon had a set-up that I had not experienced before, a dual location transition area. I had to set up T2 first with only my run gear. After that, I had to walk a mile to the T1 area to set up my bike transition.

During this time, I ran into a lot of friends. Racing with friends is one of the biggest reasons why I enjoy triathlons so much. There were friends that I've mentored and raced along side with through Team in Training (like Ryanda, who is my friend and fun-rival who always gives me a run for my money; Jerry, who I had mentored on the St. Anthony's team who happened to be proudly one of the oldest racers on the course today; and Kevin, my longstanding coach through Team in Training since I first started triathlon racing in 2007). There were friends that I went to college with (like Angelika, who is one of the coolest sisters that I know). There were friends that I used to work with (like Alex, who is a true inspiration and represents the fact that anything can be done if you set your mind to it). There were even friends that I had only met online, who had connected with me on facebook because of the common races or groups we were a part of (like Ara, who I finally met in person just today). Seeing people that I know really helps me get into the right frame of mind before a race. For some reason, it has an incredible calming effect on me, though I couldn't begin to explain why.

My greatest apprehension of the morning was getting into the chilly, 67 degree Detroit River water. The water was so cold this year, that the race director decided to start off the waves in the water instead of having a beach start. (I really don't know how that could have made much of a difference, it was just darn cold any way you cut it.) Fortunately, I have a long-sleeve wetsuit, which helped immensely.

The horn blew, and off we went. The water was extremely calm and refreshing, even though the chill seemed to congregate around my bare hands as if I was dipping them in a bucket of ice. As I'd lift my head from one side to another to breathe, the fresh water would drip into my mouth. Normally, I wouldn't notice this, but the last few open water swims had been in salty ocean water, so the fresh taste of the Detroit River was a welcome one.

My swim felt strong, as indicated by the different colored caps from the men's wave that I caught up to. I headed out to the 500K bouy to make the turn, and saw a back-up of swimmers as I approached. What is going on, I wondered. I realized only when I got there that it was the current that they were struggling with, the same current that hit me hard. It pushed me to almost a standstill, but I made a hard push through it and made the turn.

With the current behind me now, I was swimming stronger than ever. I was a bit far on the outside of the bouys, but enjoyed the solace as I swam in the moment. I made it to the final turn in what seemed to be no time. Heading into the home stretch of the swim, I once again found myself swimming alone. This time, however, it wasn't for a good reason. I realized, only after being shouted at by the life guards in the water, that I was WAY off course and should have been inland a good 300 yards by now. The sun, which was now in my eyes, had effected my sightline and I didn't see the bouy.

I stopped to get my bearings, cursed under my breath, and now made a straight line into shore. This mistake surely cost me a few minutes in the swim. Despite this fact, I still felt strong and made the decision not to beat myself up about it.

I finished the swim, hit transition 1, and was on my way on the bike portion of the race. This part of the course was a 23 mile leg of the race, with four loops around Belle Isle. I enjoyed this part of the course, mainly because it allowed me get lost in time. I remember this loop from 35 years ago, when my grandfather used to let me sit on his lap and let me "drive" his car. I remember the memories of my grandparents being members of the Detroit Boat Club, once a beautiful, grand historic building that was home to the oldest sports rowing club in the United States. I remember swimming in the double olympic pools that were connected by a walking bridge that you could swim under. I remember my grandfather's boat on the dock, and the joy in my eyes as I'd feed the new batches of baby ducks as they swim by. The building was host to my parents' wedding reception over 50 years ago, too, a memory captured in photos that I now recollected as I cycled on by. This beautiful building now sits in disrepair, with no hope for the future, as weather and time slowly continue to deteriorate the structure.

Back in the moment, I finished the bike and headed off to my run. This was a tad longer than a normal Olympic distance run, but I was prepared. I decided to go at a slow, steady pace throughout, to see if I could sustain a run for the duration. To my surprise, I found this focus easy as I found myself in the woods in the middle of the island. I had known there were trees on Belle Isle, but I had no idea that there were trails that threaded their way through these woods. The serenity was beautiful, and really gave me peace of mind and I felt as though I was one with nature. It was probably one of the most enjoyable race runs I've ever had.

As I approached the finish line, the music and cheering thrust me back into reality one last time. I crossed the line in a respectable 3 hours and 17 minutes. Not my best time in an Olympic distance, but nothing that I'm ashamed of, especially because of lack of training lately. To my surprise, something that I never thought would happen did as a result of my efforts today. I had registered in the Athena category, and actually took third place in this group!

Overall, it really was an awesome day and a fantastic race that gave me the opportunity to get lost in memories and lost in the moment. Who knew that Belle Isle, in Detroit, Michigan, could have offered up that for me.

Thanks for the memories, both the old and the new.

The Wind Beneath My Wings -- A Gulf Coast Triathlon Race Report

Blink.

Another Team in Training race season has come to an end.

The phenomenon of how fast time flies has always intrigued me. We see this in our careers, in our children, in our pets, in ourselves. As I type this, I look over to my beautiful cat of 17 years, and feel like it was just yesterday that I brought her and her sister home.

The past six months of training, fundraising, and preparing for this race didn't go at a snail's pace either. It's hard to believe that the half Ironman that the team and myself had been training for so hard all winter has now come and gone.

This was a difficult season for me, and admitting that isn't easy either. At times, I felt almost defeated. There were even times that I actually wanted to quit. I'm really glad I didn't. In fact, this season taught a few things. It taught me that it's okay to lean on friends, to ask for help if I need it. It taught me the power of support, knowing that with that and God's love, anything can be accomplished. It taught me how to keep my priorities straight, to keep my focus. Much like how one approaches race day.

Ahh yes, race day. A day that I won't soon forget. My team and I headed down for Panama City last weekend to participate in this 70.3 mile long triathlon on behalf of Team in Training.

There were only a few of us who had participated in any race of this length before (me being one of them). I felt lucky in that respect because I was able to recall the extreme heat from the the Florida 70.3 Half Ironman event I participated in the year before. Mentally, I was prepared. Though I didn't train as diligently as I would have liked, I went into this race with a sense of satisfaction knowing that no matter what the outcome, I am greatful for the journey. After all, I'm blessed to be able to do this at all, with good friends and for a good cause too.

Race day served up one element that I had never trained in, rough waters. Swimming is my strong point, and I looked at those waves on race morning with a confident sneer on my face. "I'll cut through the water like a knife," I thought. So when the horn went off and I headed into the sea for my 1.2 mile swim, I was downright pissed when a wave knocked me over as if I were a dead fish.

"Oh crap, my coach is watching me....

....wait, why the heck did THAT thought just cross my mind?

.....Who cares? FOCUS!"

I started to stroke again. Another wave came crashing into me, along with all of the doubt in the world.

"Why am I here again? Why did I ever think I could do this?"

These thoughts left me immediately frustrated. This is NOT the way I normally think, especially in a competitive environment. The whole experience took me by surprise.

I realized that I had never had training in big waves like that before. Whatever I was trying to do wasn't working, so I improvised so as to not exhaust myself. I ended up turning over and swimming on my back for a good 200 yards. I flipped back over to see if I could handle those waves any better, but it didn't seem to do much good. So back and forth I'd flip, backstroking and then freestyling, with an occasional breast stroke peppered in here and there. Quite a pathetic performance on the swim.

I looked around me and was happy to see that I wasn't the only person who seemed to have had a brain fart on how to swim. I pressed on, buoy after buoy, until I finally made the turn to head back into shore. It was only then that I was able to find my tempo and get a rhythm. I got a boost of confidence when I was close to shore and caught a wave, which carried me for a 10 second ride right up to the shoreline. I'm surprised I didn't look like a beached whale when it was all said and done. (As you can see by the photo below, I was elated to be done with this leg of the race.)

Once out of the water, I headed towards the transition area. Enter confidence booster number two. My transition position was as good as it could get, with my bike being the first row from the exit area, right next to the pros. I got my gear on, and headed out, knowing that I could make up time on the bike.

I picked up my pace, settled into a good speed, and then ker-PLUNK. My aero bottle, with my only source of liquid nutrition, fell off and right onto the road. After a quick, audible curse, I turned around, navigating myself around otehr cyclists, and got the bottle. I ended up screwing with it for about a minute or two, trying to adjust the velcro so that it stays put. At this point, one of the aero bottle's caps were broken and unrepairable (I had the dual compartment Profile Design), with the majority of my hydration having spilled out onto the road.

Thinking it's somewhat secure, I started out again. It wasn't 500 yards before the sonofabitch fell off again. I'm lucky it didn't get caught in my spokes. Knowing that I could get penalized four minutes for leaving abandoned equipment, I took my chances and made the decision to not turn around again.

Fortunately, I had decided the night before to attach an extra cage to my frame, just in case I needed it -- good thing. If I wouldn't have done that, it is probable that I would have had to scratch the race since I would have had no way to keep myself hydrated on the bike.

Despite the water bottle issue, my bike leg went rather well. I did have a strange thing happen at about mile 25. I made the mistake of breaking too hard with my rear break, which caused me to fishtail on a hairpin turn. I'm lucky that I didn't wipe out, but the sensation that this gave me was all but comforting. For the next 10 miles, I felt as though my back tire was going to wobble right off. I even pulled my bike over (AGAIN) so that I could do a full inspection. To this day, I'm not really sure if there was any mechanical issues going on during that time.

At mile 40 on the bike, I was starting to get BORED. There isn't much to look at on the bike portion of this course, other than passing cars, bikes, and trees. There was an occasional cloud, which was exciting. I was frustrated with the wind, and really needed a boost. Then, out of the blue, I hear a voice.

"ROOOOOOONEY!"

The music to my ears was none other than my friend Brian. He affectionately labeled my bike ROONEY when I had gotten it (partially due to the Pittsburg Steelers coach and partially because of the movie Ferris Bueller's Day Off). I was so surprised to see him, because I figured he had passed me long ago when I was screwing with that stupid water bottle. I later learned that Brian had a flat midway through the course, which is what had set him so far back.

He passed me on the bike, we exchanged a couple words of encouragement (including a "Go Blue" cheer for him out of respect), and he was off.

With new air in my lungs, I was able to finish the bike strong and head back into transition. After making a quick pitstop, I was off on my run. My strategy actually wasn't a run, but a run/walk. I had learned my lesson the year before to head out strong in this heat, so I decided to stick to a run five minute/walk one minute strategy. It seemed to work for me well. I took my time at the water stations, taking advantage of any ice that was offered. I put ice in my water bottle, in my hat, down my top. (So sue me, it was hot.)

I was keeping a decent pace up through mile ten, when the need to make a pit stop hit me. I'm not sure what I had done that caused this issue, but I'm thinking it was a combination of lack of liquid nutrition on the bike and bananas. Whatever the case, I had to make yet ANOTHER stop. I finally got to a porta-potty, only to have a runner squeek in there right before I could get to it. So I waited. And waited. And waited. He obviously had the same problem I did.

I finally had my turn, and was on the road one last time. As I passed mile 12, I noticed something familiar in the distance -- two tall, lean bodies with Team in Training uniforms on. As I ran closer, I realized that the two were none other than Brian and Pete, walking. A huge smile came to my face, and I ran as if I got injected with a shot of endorphins.

I caught up to the two fine men who I had started my Team in Training journey with back in 2007 when we all participated in the Nation's Triathlon. I asked them if I could have the priviledge of finishing along side them, and they welcomed me in as if I were family.

Despite Pete now dealing with an injured hip flexor and Brian nurturing an ankle that he had banged up due to a crash about a mile after he had passed me on the bike, both of them picked up their stride with about a half mile to go and were determined to run in the rest of the way.

My short little legs worked hard to keep up with them, but we were able to all keep the same pace. We passed the Team in Training tent and the "Go Team" chants that were emitting from it. It was nice to see so many familiar faces on the sidelines. As we approached the finish line, side by side, we all instinctively reached out to each other and held hands, as if we were making sure no one was left behind. The race announcer saw us coming, and announced our approach. "And here we have a group from Team in Training, coming in together! Pete Spender, of Bloomfield, Michigan...Brian Murphy, of Troy, Michigan...and Andrea Duncan of Grosse Pointe, Michigan."

The three of us, still holding hands, smiled and raised our hands up high as we crossed the finish line. Three steady beeps were heard through the air, indicating that our chip had been read and that our race was complete.

To me, the emotions that showed on our face and flowed in our hearts can't be described. I still get teary-eyed thinking of these moments, knowing that no one could have written a better ending for me that day.

Pete, Briand and I (and the rest of the team too) all had our challenges throughout the season, some small, some big, some life changing. All of us were in this together for our own reasons, and for a common one -- to help fight against blood cancers. And in the end, we ALL finished together.

To me, crossing the line hand in hand with friends represents all of the support that we have had from so many of you -- none of us could have crossed the finish line without that. You have been the wind beneath our wings, pushing us, supporting us, and believing in this mission. Thank you. for being with all of us, every step of the way.

My full plate.

"Update your blog!" I hear from Bananaman. It's a comment that isn't meant to harp or pester, but simply to nudge, as a good friend would do. I'll always appreciate those nudges, especially because these last six months have dealt me up with an extremely full plate as if I had just been served up a heaping dish from the all-you-can-eat buffet of life.

Surely, with everything on my plate something is bound to drop on the floor. This blog is one, and my apologies to my dear friend Brian and anyone else who has checked this site so much more often than I have lately. Thanks for having patience in me, in holding me accountable. Moving forward, I can't guarantee that I'll keep my blog as updated as I once used to, but knowing that there is an occasional soul that checks in every once in a while does make a difference.

Keep on me, and I'll keep on posting. At the very least, I'll do my best to try and squeeze this in between meals.

Abducted by an Alien

One nice thing about training for a big race is that you can incorporate a lot of little races in your training program to help you prepare for the big day.

A short while ago, I took advantage of a local race to do just that. The race is called the Martian Marathon, and I had signed up for the half. I must admit that I just chucked out loud to myself. Only two years ago, this girl could barely run a mile and a half, and my pace was about as fast as my dad's after his hip surgery. And here I am, choosing to sign up for a half marathon as a "warm up" fun event? HAHA. Ok, it's more than a chuckle now. I digress...

My goal for this event wasn't to just get the strange looking shirt and medal at the end of the event. It was a pulse-check to see how well I've been training for my half ironman in May. My fastest (what a subjective word) 13.1 distance run was around two and a half hours up until now, with a 3 hour half marathon time when I competed in last year's Florida Half Ironman. In other words, I had no expectations other than to finish today.

I arrived in Dearborn at around 6am to pick up my registration packet. The weather was brisk, and the sky had few clouds. Good thing, since heavy rains were predicted for later in the day. I got my packet and tuned into Pandora on my iPhone while I stretched. I found a great new channel that offered up a nice variety, based on the band The Postal Service.

As the time to begin the race grew closer, I made my way to the starting line. I saw one person I knew, my Team in Training run/bike coach, Mike. (Good thing, he probably doesn't think I practice much!) The weather had warmed up a couple of degrees, and expected to hit about 50 degrees or so later in the day. At first, I thought I was crazy for having wore my running shorts and not pants, but it proved later to be a great decision.

The start of the race had arrived before I knew it, and I was on my way, still enjoying my new found Pandora station.

Throughout the first half of the run, I felt strong. I was runnning between 10:15 and 10:45 minute miles, which is very acceptable in my mind. I hit the half way point, not having had to walk once yet. I usually have to walk for a bit somewhere between 8 and 10 miles into a run, so when I kept finding that I still had energy to keep up my pace, I couldn't believe it. The course was flat, but my run pace kept improving, especially during that 8th, 9th and 10th mile.

What gives? What's wrong with me? Why am I running so strong? What am I doing right? Ptth, it doesn't matter...just enjoy it, I thought. So I did.

Mile 11, I ran through the water stop. Mile 12, same. Mile 13 -- what, I'm almost finished, and I'm still feeling strong? And I hadn't had a mile where I ran over 11 minutes? I WAS abducted by an alien, because this type of performance is unheard of.

Before I knew it, I was finished. The volunteer put the finisher's medal around my neck, and a big smile came to my face. (Actually, a bigger smile came to my face.) I had done it. My first half marathon distance run that was truly a run with no walking. My overall time? 2 hours 17 minutes (an average per mile time of 10:28), a personal best by almost 15 minutes.

Was this the race I needed before my May event? You bet. It was a big confidence booster. Now, if I could only bring the Martians to Florida so they can abduct me for my Half Ironman!

Rechargeable Batteries are the Best Investment

Do you ever have times when you just need to get away? It's easy to get caught up in the moment, or should I say the thousands of moments that comprise a day. Staying focused is a requirement, yet a challenge. Juggling everything gives a sense of accomplishment, especially when you are successful at it. But then there are those times of feeling overwhelmed, totally stressed, having the need to just get away.

Often, I can address this need by taking an hour out for myself and submersing myself in music, or perhaps a hot bath engulfed with bergamot-scented bubbles. A good bike ride or run does the trick too, or just cuddling up with my kids on the sofa and watching a good movie.

Perhaps sympathy has come into play for me now that I have reached the tender young age of 40. "You need to get away, just for a couple of days," my dad said. His translation? A vacation for one. Wow, that sounds nice, but totally unrealistic. All those thoughts come flooding back into my head again -- kids, household chores, bills, work.

STOP, he said.

Just stop and breathe, and refresh yourself. Go off on your own, and recharge your batteries.

So I took him up on the offer.

I'm sitting here in Bal Harbour, Florida, on the last day of my small little vacation. I turn my neck just a little bit and look out the 11th story patio, and have a beautiful view of the ocean; my own little world. There has been no agenda since I got here three days ago. My intention was to get caught up on work, but as luck would have it, I have been unable to get a connection on my computer until today. So what have I done? Nothing but recharge. I didn't think that I needed it, but I realize now how low my battery actually was. It was like I was running on fumes of an empty gas tank.

So what is the lesson? Take the time to invest in yourself every once in a while. It's not as selfish as I once thought. In fact, I think it's a pretty good investment, which will have a good ripple-effect for everyone and everything I interact with.

Thanks, Dad, for the suggestion.

Join the Madness, Join the Mission!

Hello family, friends, and followers. For those who know me, you know that March is my favorite time of year -- it's not because of my birthday, and not because of St. Patrick's Day. It's MARCH MADNESS time! And this year, you have the opportunity to have a lot of fun and be a part of something special!

I invite you to join in the Team in Training NCAA Basketball Bracket Challenge. Even if you really aren't too into college hoops or don't think you are built for predicting winners, now is the time to get involved and have some fun and know that you are helping fight cancer at the same time.

What's in it for me? And where does the rest of the money go?

Each bracket entry fee is $25, with a maximum of 3, and all of the proceeds, minus the prize pay-out will benefit the Leukemia & Lymphoma Society. Prizes will be 25% to the 1st place person, and 15% to the second place. The more people that participate, the higher the payout, so spread the word and tell all of your friends!

How Do I Get Started?

Simply donate via the PayPal button below. Shortly thereafter, you'll receive an email inviting you to the CBSSportsLine.com bracket site where you can setup your brackets. (Setting them up is easy, and often many people do just as well if they don't follow college basketball!)

How much time is left before the final buzzer?

The deadline to setup your brackets is 12:00 NOON EST this Thursday, March 19th, so sign up today! Please, invite your friends; increase the prize amount and help me meet my goal.

Thanks so much, and good luck with your brackets!!!!!

In case you were wondering if I was legal.

Below is the formal letter from the Michigan Chapter of Team in Training, on behalf of the Leukemia & Lymphoma Society. The letter serves as proof that I am indeed raising money for a good cause, and not trying to scam you in any way.

---------

March, 2009


This letter is to confirm that Andrea Duncan is serving as a volunteer for The Leukemia & Lymphoma Society, Michigan Chapter, and is eligible to collect funds on our behalf.

The Leukemia & Lymphoma Society is licensed with the state of Michigan as a
501 © (3) not-for-profit agency. Our mission is to cure leukemia, lymphoma, Hodgkin’s disease, and myeloma, and improve the quality of life of patients and their families. Andrea Duncan is a member of our Team In Training program and has agreed to raise a minimum of $4400 for the Society and train to complete a long-course triathlon. Please support Andrea’s hard work and efforts, on our behalf. Andrea's fundraising page is http://pages.teamintraining.org/mi/gctri09/andi.

For additional information on The Leukemia & Lymphoma Society or Team In Training program, please contact the Michigan Chapter at 248-581-3942 or 800‑456-5413.


Sincerely,


Tami Duquette
Campaign Director

Michigan Chapter 1421 E. 12 Mile Road, Madison Heights, MI 48071Tel: 248.581.3942 Toll Free 800.456.5413 Fax: 248.581.3902www.teamintraining.org/mi

My Biggest Uphill Climb Yet

Here I am, a mere 73 days away from the first event of the season, the Gulf Coast Half Ironman. That seems like a long way off, but like a shadow in the light of day, the time is quickly fading away.

So am I on the right road of preparedness for this 70.3 mile challenge? I suppose it depends on who is asked. My coaches, mentors, teammates, friends, family, all think that I can pull it off. And if you catch me in the right moment, you'll see that I can drink that Kool-Aid too. I'm one of the lucky folks (I just knocked on wood) where I can head out with little preparation and get a good distance under my belt now, whether it's a swim, bike or run.

The biggest challenge that weights heavily on my mind right now is the challenge of meeting my fundraising goal of $5,000 for the Leukemia & Lymphoma Society through this Team in Training program. I'm admittedly slow out of the gate with this effort. Normally, I send out some letters and do an event or two and I am able to reach my goal with little effort. This time, however, with the economy and the fact that pocketbooks have tightened up everywhere, raising these funds has been an growing challenge. There is a simple equation that solves this problem.

Time x Effort = Results.

As I physically prepare for a long, gruling physical challenge, I have found having to spend more time (a rare commodity for me nowadays) on creating events, outreach efforts, and awareness initiatives to help me reach my fundraising goal. Working on these projects, along with all of my other life responsibilities, makes for very full plate. On more than one occasion, I have been close to the decision of dropping out of training for this race because of this. I have decided, however, that instead of quitting, I’d see through my commitment and complete this last Team in Training race before I take a much-needed hiatus. As Winston Churchill once said, “Never, never, never give up.”

So, with 73 days to go, I know that I have a different battle, the battle of reaching my goal of raising $5,000 that I must conquer. It sounds easy, but this truly is the biggest uphill climb for me yet, and I'm looking for all of the tailwind that I can get that will push me over the top.

Are you one of the gusts that can help me get over this hill? I am hoping that you are. Come join me in my mission by making a donation on my Team in Training web page to the Leukemia & Lymphoma Society today -- and join in spirit as I compete in Panama City this May where your partnership will inspire me through to the finish line. Most importantly, know that you are helping all those individuals whose uphill battles make mine look like just a walk in the park.

When All the Walls Crumble, Just Look Up.

Looking back on my life, I've learned that life has ebbs, and it has flows. There are great days, and there are crap days. And then there are days that are just there, where time passes by before we know it. Each day, each hour, offers an opportunity -- but I've learned that you have to know where to look for it.

It's been almost two weeks since I've worked out becauser there is so much going on...it's one of those times where the tide is out, and I have a considerably higher amount of stress than normal. I have a lot going on in my life -- the joy and dedication to my awesome children, the emotionally draining process of a divorce, a demanding yet most enjoyable job, and yes, training and fundraising for this upcoming race. I am wondering if I can keep it all together.

I woke up today more stressed out than I have been in a while. My mind has been racing for the last few days -- logistics, bills, taxes, practice, fundraising (which I am way behind on, certainly due to the rough economic climate right now), work, a failed marraige, house chores...how could I make my mind stop racing? How can I make it through all this? So I opted to miss practice again this morning. Instead, I went to the one place (besides my childrens' smiles) that gives me my center -- church (God).

Today, pastor Dave Wilson (the pastor for the Detroit Lions) spoke. I always enjoy hearing him talk, he's a funny guy. He started out the service blaming himself for the Lions' 0-16 record this year. He was saying that besides saying prayers with the Lions before the games, he had also recently been asked to hold prayer for the school his son would soon go to, as well as his alma mater, Ball State...both times, they lost their games, so his conclusion was that it must be him. (Oh Dave how I wish it were that simple!)

Anyways, I always enjoy going to church, especially when my heart is beating unusually fast due to stress. I'm a pretty good poker player and often people don't know how stressed I can get, but I am human and sometimes I can't hide it. This morning was one of those times. I'm thankful that I know where to look to set me straight...I look up.

Service, once again, released a ton of stress for me, and I'm thankful. For me, it's like a massage for the soul. My kids enjoy service too, and I'm grateful for that as well. I'm feeling more centered now. I recognize that I need to make sure that I pay close attention to everything on my plate. This upcoming week will be one of the most challenging weeks that I've had in a very long time, and so all training must again go on the back burner.

I look foward to getting back on the saddle when I can squeek in a bit of free time to do so. I'm looking forward to the time that the tide changes, and things aren't so stressful. That time will come (just like knowing that there will be a time when Lions will someday win a game again). In the meantime, I'm glad I have something to fall back on when those walls feel like they are caving in around me. I have my family and their good health, my friends, my teammates, and oh yeah, the big guy upstairs. Thank God.

Have a great day, everyone. And don't forget to look up, it beat's looking down any day of the week.

My Dilemma and How You Can Help

In just a few weeks, I will be turning 40. Historically known as the mid-life of a human being, I did something crazy, or so some may say. No, I didn't go and buy a shiny new convertible that I can zip around town with. No, I didn't quit my job and decide to follow some dream of becoming an artist. No, I didn't jump in the sack with some hot Ken doll of a man.

I bought a bike.

A bike, you say? Yes. A beautiful, sleek, smooth fantabulous bike like no other I have ever had. It's a triathlon bike, and it rides like "buttah." Traditional cyclists call it strange looking, but for me and my teammates, we call it beautiful. It's eye candy, this bike, and I don't regret one penny that I spent on it.

However, I'm in a dilemma. You see, I'm one of the weird ones...I've always named the bikes I race on. (OK, I've only had one before now, and her name is Elly -- after my grandmother who fought multiple myeloma.) This bike was purchased for the same reason, to ride in triathlons so that I may honor those who have battled the long haul of having a blood cancer.

So here I am, with this kick-ass piece of fine machinery, and it needs a name. I have a few recommendations from friends and teammates, but nothing has quite pushed my buttons in the right way yet, so the search for the perfect name goes on. 

Therefore, I place my trust in you. Now through January 29th at 6pm EST, I am putting the naming rights up for auction on eBay, and the highest bidder gets to name this beautiful bike. The name will be permanently painted on the seat post of my bike, and will remain there forever. If you are a business and you want to promote your brand, it's yours if you sport the highest price. If you are a person and you want to be the one to name this bike, again, it's yours if you are the highest bidder.

I LOVE THIS BIKE, and will be using it for many years to come, in many triathlon races. As the highest bidder, you can take pride knowing that 1) you contributed to a good cause and 2) your legacy will live on for a long time.

Thanks for your consideration, and thanks for your help!