Wordless Wednesday - on being Proud of my Kid

Prioritize Post Workout

The most important thing to do after an endurance activity is to drink.

The most important thing to do after an endurance activity is to consume protein.

The most important thing to do is take an ice bath..

s'ok. I'm gonna jus' lay down on my floor and take a little nap now. Wake me up after there's a consensus on what to do "first" after a 57+ mile bike ride in 2000% humidity.

Why it's OK to Ignore Your Children

As the summer wraps up and my school year gets underway, I have to stop and reflect on the fact that I’m not a very good mother for a lot of the school year. I rarely volunteer, and I will never win the award for MOY – Mom of the Year.

I go to Nursing School, so the quality time I get with my kids during the week is when we all sit down and do our homework together. As they’re significantly younger than I am, their subject matter is slightly less disgusting and time consuming than that of a 4^th year nursing student. It is no surprise that they will finish their work in 1/16 of the time it takes me to finish mine.

Once they’re done, I need quiet to continue in my studies, and one way that happens is that I totally ignore them for hours on end.

I sit on my porch, with my laptop burning into my thighs, and furiously type away at Geriatric Teaching Projects, Case Studies, and Antepartum Evidenced Based Practice while my children have to self entertain.

They must.

There is no choice.

Without self-entertainment, I would not be able to finish school.

Self-entertainment is not the same thing as being entertained by the TV. We are long past the days of asking Elmo in Grouchland to supervise the toddler so I can work on something, and Sponge Bob has never had a place as a babysitter in this home. I do not allow screen time, and instead I do dreadful things like make children play with toys, or each other, or read, or color, or play outside where they are being exposed to the harmful UV rays of the sun... the possibilities are endless, and they are their choices to make.

They make up new rules to “soccer” on the field next to our home, and they play modified kick-ball with children ranging from 3 – 13. The ethnic diversity is as expansive as the ages involved, and the self-entertaining sometimes results in learning about different cultures. They ride their bikes in a disorganized pace line around the parking lot that surround my building. They roller skate when the weather is nice, and when that gets tiring, they mark the sidewalks with a rainbow assortment of chalk. The summer rains clean the canvas, so tomorrow’s art will be new.

Now I’m not saying you should give your children scissors, matches, and a knife and then tell them to go play in traffic. I’m suggesting that allowing them the independence to make their own leisure time decisions teaches them to prioritize and encourages budding time management skills. I require an hourly check in, and ensure that there are consequences when the timing requirements are not met.

I consider this playtime as an introduction to economics, only instead of manipulating money, my children are learning to negotiate something far more valuable:  responsibility for themselves.

Wordless Wednesday - on catching Zzz like a boss

Forgetfulness

Sometimes I forget what it is to be Galactically Bada**

These are the times when I’m racing and training hard, and for a short time I start valuing myself based on pace, time, speed and distance.

These are the variables I enjoy manipulating and adding to my Training Log. These are easily mistaken as the important variables when assessing health.

If I’m fit, I’m healthy – and the measure of that is how fast I can ride my bike for 37 miles... right?

Right.

SO if I can’t make my mark, achieve my goal, keep up with *this person or *that person, I must be *less of a person... Right?

No.

While it feels good to ride a working paceline with “The Big Boys” at 23 mph on a busy road, tricked out in our Bada** GOTR/LOTL jerseys, the PACE is not the reason I am galactic.

The times I am at my most galactic are when I work with another runner or cyclist to make a better experience for both of us.

Anyone can be faster.

Anyone can train.

Anyone...

Not anyone can cultivate a group of friends to ride and run with on any given weekend. Not anyone can understand that there are days when the splits are less important than the company.

The miles aren’t always about the miles per hour, and it’s when I lose that detail that I start to feel frustrated, unhappy or stressed by my training program.

Today I logged another beautiful morning ride with one of my dearest friends, a beautiful Ladies of the Lanes teammate. We savored the miles. We never once checked our Garmins for pace, because we were not out to race each other. We were not out there to race anyone.

We were out to enjoy our morning, working together, to improve our shared experience.

That’s what the foundation of GBA** is built upon.

An Open Letter to 22 Year Old Girls Everywhere

Dear 22 year old Girls,

Don’t try so hard.

You are beautiful no matter what you are wearing. You are 22. By definition, 22 year olds are beautiful to pretty much everyone.

And before you get on your, “she’s just jealous because I’m young” box, you can #STFU. 

I’m still young enough. I still get asked out by men almost every day. Seriously. And despite that “ask out” statistic, it may surprise you to learn that I never go out in public wearing only a sports bra and shorts unless I am going to log 6 or more miles and it’s 80 degrees with high humidity.

I was at a theme park this weekend, and a concert a few weeks ago, and at those two venues I saw many beautiful women in their late teens and early twenties dressed like back-up dancers in a music video for an up and coming artist.

I suppose there are times when that attire is appropriate.

For example, it's ok to wear this when you are actually working as a back-up dancer in a music video for an up and coming artist. Otherwise, that outfit isn’t going to fly as socially appropriate for 364 days of the year.

I’ll be the first to admit, many of the women sporting the “leopard print sports bra, denim shorts and high-top sneakers” look had rocking figures. They pulled off the look with toned bodies you could bounce a quarter off of, and yes, the men noticed too.

Men from every age group were staring at the beautiful exposed skin of these girls.

But all I kept thinking when I saw them was this: Girls, if you want to attract a man with whom you will share a meaningful and emotionally fulfilling relationship, maybe don’t start by dressing like a hooker.

Also, if your shorts are so short that the "crease" of your cheek isn't covered, your shorts are too short to wear out of the bedroom. Fo' Shizzle. Unless you're a prostitute, and you need to make rent. In that case, probably they're Ok.

While on the topic, don’t look around and think the girls who are dressed like hookers are getting boyfriends you would want. They might have boys who linger in their presence for a blink of time, but they are just boys.

Yes, I am saying it flat out: The men women attract while dressed-up as prostitutes are not quality men.

A woman who understands “understated sexy” attire for 364 days of the year is far sexier than the one who’s always dressing like it’s Halloween. On Halloween it’s socially acceptable to pull out the leopard print and feel free to dress like a back up dancer in a music video.

The other days of the year, I suggest that clothing should be treated like gift-wrap. The gift inside is a mystery, and it is worth waiting till Christmas to untie the bow.

Most men will even tell you, the anticipation of unwrapping this particular “present” is is almost as fun as any “gift” it contains.

Of course, the men who are picking up the girls wearing skimpy socially inappropriate clothing are just looking for something quick and easy. They like to celebrate Christmas Year Round. They’re the ones who tore through the wrapping paper in a frenzy as kids.

You know what else they were?

They were the ones who finished opening the gift, saw what it was, and set it aside to tear into the next gift without appreciating what they’d received.

Forget a Thank You note, they had no idea who had given them what.

I’m not saying to save yourself for Mr Right. I’m not preaching Abstinence. I’m preaching Self Respect.

There are a whole crew of blogs out there screaming the whole “Why buy the Cow when you can get the Milk free” theory... Cow? Free..? No, I never liked that analogy.

We aren’t cows. This isn’t milk. We are women, and these are our bodies.  And they’re worth a hell of a lot more than $3.80 a gallon.

Regards,

A Mom who’s Not Really a Prude, Just Concerned

have the BEST idea for a blog post...

it's not going all that well though.


Writing is easy. All you do is stare at a blank sheet of paper until drops of blood form on your forehead. --- Gene Fowler