Weekend? What Weekend?

This entire weekend was spent getting ready for the room mate. We emptied a closet, actually two and dismantled and rebuilt an office. Serves me right having to work the entire weekend to get it done. I was supposed to have cleaned and decluttered the office during my summer break. But alas, I did not.

So we spent the weekend getting the spare room converted into a short stint bedroom for our much anticipated and very welcome brother in law. It is going to be a super fun 3 months!

We can't wait for him to get here. It is going to be a blast.

But I would like my weekend back. I think I need a weekend to recover from our weekend.

Motivation in a Cowbell!

This is my shiny new cowbell. I earned it today by swimming. In the water. At the gym. This cowbell is really what got me through it. Olivia walked in and announced " I have your cowbell". Those four words were all it took to make me jump into the water and give it my all.

You have to truly know my core dislike of the water to understand the magnitude of the power of the cowbell. When I was two I fell in a river and nearly drown. My mother, who was never much of a swimmer herself saved me. I didn't think it affected me. I took swimming lessons as a kid in school and a few at the local pool over the summers of my youth. But as anyone who has watched kid swimming lessons knows, those are not mad skills and as long as they don't drown, they will most likely pass the lessons. That was when I stopped swimming. My career ended at 12. I'm not actually sure I ever put my whole face in the water. Now here I am at 41 trying to swim again. This is where I learned how fearful I am about the water. I panic, I choke, I feel like I can't breathe. I just want out of the water. I think, that river of so long ago haunts me still.

Today something strange happened. Sure, the lure of the cowbell is what really got me in there. This is my second cowbell and like this one, the first was earned by exercise. That was a 5k though, piece of cake compared to this one. But as I was swimming, well, something that sort of resembles swimming, I began to see the draw of the sport. In the water I felt weightless. The sense of quiet calm (well except for the breathing panic) was just out of reach. But I had a glimpse of it a time or two. It's out there and it makes me wonder if possibly, just possibly is this my sport?

So as I waited for Olivia to go get my well earned cowbell for me, I was shocked and amazed to hear my own voice answer this question she posed as she headed into the locker room...

Olivia: "same time next week?"-(referring to our weekly personal training sessions),

"Yes" I said,

Olivia: "pool or gym?"

"Pool!"

Wow, I said "pool" with out even thinking. There is no cowbell. There is no motivation. Well, except the motivation to get better, and maybe to find the calm, the quiet, the exact opposite of everything else in my days.

I'll let you know next week.

Insane fun!

This is the after picture of the First Friday clan after we finished the Warrior Dash yesterday. I have never in my life been that filthy before. Nor have I ever had that much good clean (oxymornic comment I know) fun. For 48 minutes I was a kid again!

We signed up for this event when we first heard about it in the spring. The idea is a 5k trail run with a bunch of crazy obstacles thrown in for good measure. It's billed as "The craziest frickin' day of your life" and they aren't kidding! The trail run itself would have been challenging enough with some crazy steep climbs and descents, but along the way we got to wade through chest deep 50 degree water and climb over logs, climb cargo nets, scale hay bale pyramid stacks, repel down steep embankments, climb over old cars, weave through crazy yarn mazes, climb a vertical ladder, and army crawl through a mud pit complete with barbed wire to keep you honest and low (ask Sean about that, he lost a bandanna on the poky part!) . Oh yeah and my personal hands down favorite obstacle; fire jumping!



I honestly can't believe I did this event. I never would have thought I'd love it as much as I did. Do I have any regrets? Why yes I do, just one. I regret that I have to wait an entire year before I can do this again!

They run like 5 events across the country. I wonder if I could follow them like a groupie. A Warrior Dash groupie. Yes, I think I've found something to add to my bucket list......

Super Star!

PT today was not pretty. I've become one of those people who are stuck in the past. I work through the exercises with the strength of a grandma with a walker. My pride no longer exists. It was lost long ago. I keep replaying June over and over in my mind. I could run 13 miles then. I can't run 13 blocks now. It's pathetic and so am I at this point. I have become one of "them".

It's a good thing I don't have children or I'd be one of those parents like the one's my co-worker Jason had to deal with last night at our Open House for the new school year. He teaches PE for the 3rd-7th graders. We have PE everyday which is fantastic and will hopefully make a difference in the probably 60% obesity rate I saw in the kids that came to visit last night. But while my families were asking about schedules and materials and generally academically oriented issues, poor Jason had entirely different conversations.

His entire evening was spent listening to the glory days of the parents PE experiences. Or of their HS sports, or even a few in college. No one cares what he is going to be teaching the kids or what they need to be able to do. Nope, they want to talk about the incredible athletic prowess of their youth. How Nike never recruited these folks is a mystery because clearly they were Super Stars. Now they watch sports instead of play sports. They push their kids and talk about how great they were as they drive through McDonalds. They've got six packs alright, well except for the ones who buy it by the case. Yup, those are some Super Stars there.

I don't want to be a Super Star. I don't want my glory days to be in June of 2010. I need to pony up and get with the program. Apparently this involves me getting off the couch and into the pool. ICK. No one, but no one needs to see me in a swimsuit. But after last night combined with this morning's PT, I guess getting into the pool is a better option than upping my ESPN cable package. I wonder how much it costs to put in a private pool.....

Left Coast Calling

An open letter to a long lost love.

We have cold oceans, but warm camp fires. We have wet rainy days, but Goretex wardrobes. We grow hops and barley and grapes. We have no shame in a Sunday brew session. We have only two seasons, but that doesn't stop us from enjoying our outdoors. Our pace is slower, our coffee is richer, our conversation is deeper and so are our connections. We protect and defend our children and celebrate their right to be who they are. Our love knows no end. We have things to do and places to go and people to see.

We have sacrifices, yes, no doubt there are sacrifices to be made. Our houses are smaller and more expensive, our salaries are smaller and our classes are bigger. Yes, on paper we are worth less. But the payoffs oh the payoffs are so much more than can be adequately described in a pros and cons list. We are more than a pros and cons list.

We have maple bars.

We are the Left Coast.

We are calling.

We miss you and we want you to come home.

Testosterone Shift

I just waved good-bye to my brother. Technically he is my brother in law, but that is only because the law says he is only related to me via marriage. To me, he is my brother and I adore him. I'm so thankful that my sister chose him. He was in town for the weekend, brought by business but mostly spent in pleasure. We had a blast hanging out and talking about the old times, the current times and the what might be times.

I'm keeping my fingers crossed for the what might be times.

For the record, I don't think that my husband has smiled that much in ages. He was like a kid in a candy shop and I'm pretty sure he considers Stafford to be his brother as well. Running, beer sampling, meat eating, story telling, male bonding galore at Casa de Ross this weekend. For the past 48 hours this house has been in testosterone overload. You couldn't really tell the difference, except there were a few more dirty pint glasses and a distinct running gear smell in the air. But the bonding, laughing and sense of a lost tribe member coming home were priceless and I'd gladly repeat it for the next 50 years or so. Like I said, I'm keeping my fingers crossed for the what might be times.

I'm also keenly aware of the subtle shift that has taken place in my house. The testosterone shift. It's not a major fault line, there are no cracks in the surface even. It runs much deeper. In fact, the effects will only be seen if the "what might be" does not come to fruition. The difference is that I instead will be the one who picks up the pieces and offers the support. Funny how a boy might not see what he really wants until he gets a tiny glimpse of what could be. Those only children, turns out they need a brother.

Yep, I am crossing my fingers, legs, toes, and even my eyes for the "what might be" times.

The Smell of August

Today I returned to my classroom in the capacity of teacher for the first time since June. I was struck by two things when I walked in.

First, everything was exactly where I wanted it. While this might not seem exciting to most people, my past experience after coming back from Summer break involved at least one full day just organizing the furniture that was dumped together in the center of the room, or worse, left out in the hall. I then had to recreate my room from scratch each year. Nothing was on the walls, nothing was out on counters, on tables or in book cases.

This year I walked back into a classroom which looks more like I have been gone a weekend rather than an entire Summer. I could begin teaching the kids tomorrow if I had to and that is all because Timber Ridge has the best janitorial staff on the planet.

Which brings me to the second best thing about walking into that room. The smell. There is nothing like the smell of an August classroom. I don't know if it is the fresh wax or the sparkling sink or what. But that smell of a new beginning, a fresh start is intoxicating. It's one of my favorite things about teaching, and while I know it will only last until the end of the first day, it makes me excited about what I do and ready to start again. It's like the spring of the school year!

So I salute you the fantastic custodians of the world. I hope that I show my appreciation on a daily basis, but if not, I hope you know how ready I am to start the new year because of you!