An Evening in Coupeville.

Good morning from Coupeville, Washington, on the glorious Whidbey Island. It’s just after 7 here. I’m here with six women, and three of us are awake so far. The coffee is brewing – my contribution since it’s really the only thing I know how to make – and I’m thinking back to what an incredible evening we had last night. Joanna made a taco dinner for us, and Kristie made blackberry cobbler from fresh blackberries that she picked on a walk. Afterwards, we sat around the living room reading to one another the things we’ve been working on. Being in a circle listening to the stories of women I love is perhaps my most favorite way to spend an evening. Continue reading

117 Miles.

This was my last big training weekend before my taper towards Ironman Coeur d’Alene. My training schedule called for a 117-mile bike ride on Saturday. When I first read the workout, I thought surely that had to be a mistake. I’ve never in my life ridden 117 miles. Why would I do it just two weeks before my big race? But I’m a believer in the TriDot program, so once I confirmed that the schedule said what I thought it said, I started making plans towards my 117 miles. Continue reading

Past The Stuffy Nose.

I’m sick and tired, and I’ve never been better. I flew home from Iowa on Tuesday and brought with me a cold. My head is stuffy, and I’m having to blow my nose every fifteen minutes. That was super annoying until I caught myself giggling at the boxes of tissues Dave left around my house the last time he was here. “A box in every room? Why is that necessary?” I see why now. You never know where you might be when you need a tissue. Thanks, Dave. Continue reading

Nine Months.

This weekend, I’m heading back up to Iowa, not just to see Dave, but also to spend a weekend on the farm with my dear friends from middle school geek camp. Last August, we had a wonderful gathering. It was our first time in twenty-five years to hang out together. That weekend went a long way towards lifting my spirits and making me hopeful for the future as I faced turning 40 and being alone. Continue reading

Missing St. George.

My friend just messaged me from St. George. He’s driving the course for this weekend’s race and identified the exact point that kicked my ass last year. Snow Canyon. It looks deceptively flat and feels like miles and miles of up. I’m not there this year. I meant to be, but I realized a few weeks ago that I had too much going on to make it happen. It was difficult to let go of that race, but I did. And I’m glad I did. I can’t imagine having tried to get on a plane this morning. It would have been just too much. Continue reading