im Speicher

I got the text to call when I had a minute.  I had some stuff going on, so I waited.  I finally called and got the news.  I didn't expect that.  I hung up and the tears came.  I didn't expect to hear that she was gone.  I've been worried about the health of so many others, but not her.  She hasn't really been with us for a number of years.  Her body's been there, but her mind was either trapped or moved elsewhere.

The last time I saw her was a party at the nursing home, maybe for last Christmas.  They wheeled her out, but she didn't know most of us.  She had glimpses of lucidity, but the gears just weren't catching.  I think the last time I remember her as her was some right after my daughter was born. 

We take for granted the people in our lives.  We go through the motion of day-to-day living, assuming our loved ones will always be there.  We don't take the time to call or visit because "we're just too busy."  I stopped taking the time for her after college.  I was teaching, coaching, going to school.  I got married, divorced, remarried, had kids.  I didn't call, I didn't visit.  I invited her to celebrations.  I spent time with her when we were at the same place, but I didn't make an effort.  For that, I am truly remorseful.  She was a special lady.

When my parent adopted me, there was a law that for the first year of my life with them, I could not be cared for by non-family members.  That meant while my cousins all went to daycare as infants, I went to her house.  It must have made an impression on me, because I remember as a three-year-old throwing a small tantrum that I would not go back to Miss Lee's, I wanted to go to her house.  Since my fits were pretty spectacular, and even at that age I was headstrong, my parents acquiesced.  So until I went to kindergarten, my days were spent with her. 

I remember kneeling on the kitchen chair, rolling out dough for chicken and dumplings.  I remember her chasing a snapping turtle into a garbage can with a broom so she could make turtle soup.  I remember frozen glazed donuts, heated in the toaster oven, for breakfast.  Each day after nap, I'd get to watch Mr. Rogers; our game was always guessing which color sweater he would choose.  I remember VBS at the Lutheran Church.  After I started school, I would go to her house on holidays.  She'd always send me to the basement where I'd bring up a jar of blackberries or pickles or some other goody she had canned and knew I loved.  I drank my milk out of a plastic coffee cup that was kept just for me.  It's probably still there.  I can remember her giving me a perm when I was four and I cried because I was afraid my mom wouldn't recognize me with curly hair.  I remember being driven to her house every year on Halloween until I stopped trick or treating because she wanted to see me in my costume.  Most of all, I remember she loved me unconditionally.

95/365: The Days Slowly Grow

As I drove home today, I was struck by the amount of light.  While it isn't the long days of May and June, Accuweather says we're up to 9.7 hours between sunrise and sunset.  That's good news to me.  Last winter, as I worked to implement my training schedule with more fidelity, I became more acutely aware of the amount of light and dark.  I found myself pushing my limits in November and March, eeking out the daylight I could.  I tried some night riding in November this year, and while I enjoyed it, it's not as plausible on my poorly lit home roads.  So I long for the time change.  I crave 10+ hour days.  I relish the thought of after work rides followed by impromptu dinners.  They will come.

For now I will enjoy the days that I can actually see a sunset through the clouds.

94/365: Meet Jimmy

Happy Father's Day, Anniversary, Birthday and Merry Christmas all rolled into one!  This is Jimmy, Klucker's mountain bike.  After his first crit this spring, Klucker decided he wanted a mountain bike.  That's significant, but more about that in another entry.  So he did his Klucker-thing and obsessed over it and researched it until he finally found what he wanted, a Dillinger from Soul Cycles.  I've been married to him long enough to know when to give in so I did so quickly. 

"Fine, order the frame, it can be your Father's Day present."

Because after all, he already had all the parts he needed in the garage from building up someone else's bike.  (I knew that was a bunch of hookie because I've fallen for similar lines like that from him previously.)  So June got here, but the bike didn't.  It was back ordered, it would be here in late July.  Luckily I got him a great Specialized race bag for Father's Day.

July came and went with no frame.  We bought each other furniture for the basement instead of the frame, or a trip to Mexico. 

August came, but a frame did not.  It would be early September.  I tried to buy Klucker a different MTB, but cancelled the order after he pouted.  I also took him to Big Shark and told him to pick one out.  He sulked like a little kid.  Instead, I got Klucker a pair of Time MTB pedals; I figured if the frame ever got here, he'd be set.  Good think I plan for contingencies 'cause the frame material got held up in China.

Somewhere in early November, Klucker got an email saying the frames would be ready in a couple of weeks.  About that time, Klucker mentioned that he would need a few things for the bike when it got here and he a shopping cart on a website with those things in it.  Oh, and by the way, he'd also need bars, a post post and a wheelset.  (But he had everything in the garage!)  So I hacked into his shopping cart and ordered what he had in there.  I was well prepared for the frame not to arrive. 

Christmas morning came and Klucker opened his mtb in a box.  He acted surprise.  And then, December 27, he successfully ordered the frame.  And then came the wheelset, bars, and seat post.  Somehow he made out like a bandit in this whole deal. 

So the building began.  Tonight I came home to the finished product.  Hopefully, this obsession will not go the way of the airsoft guns, the climbing harness or the telescopes.  Our garage is much too full for all of his unused whims.  This one needs to be fully utilized.

93/365: Walking Home From School

With the amount of time I spent on the couch yesterday, I didn't manage to squeeze my workouts in my day.  And being the rule follower I am, I felt like I needed to get do them.  Thankfully today was a snow day!  I needed to make up yesterday's 45 minute run with six striders and a 60 minute spin with neuromuscular and muscular endurance work.  Today is a recovery day, so my workout was a 40 minute walk with the dogs.  I managed to do my spin and run indoors, but how do you walk the dog indoors?  Plus, the kids gave me grief about picking them up early today.  (Boo did not have a snow day.)  So I had an idea.  Diesel and I could walk over to Boo's school and get him and the three of us would walk home.  Sounds simple enough, doesn't it?

Having kids has taught me to plan for contingencies.  I knew Boo left the house wearing a hoodie and jeans with his Nikes.  He had on his winter coat and gloves.  He was dressed appropriately for the weather.  But after being his mother for six years, I know he doesn't always return home in the same condition in which he leaves.  So I packed my messenger bag with his snow boots, another hoodie, gloves, a scarf, and a hat.  I snuck Diesel out of the house because I knew Daisy would want to go, but her old legs and fat belly wouldn't be game for the two hills we'd have to walk.  Off we went.

In my mind, school was a lot farther than it actually is.  I gave us 35 minutes to walk there.  It took us 12.  It was 22F and the wind was blustery, so Diesel and I kept walking.  I was afraid we'd get cold if we stood too long.  So we headed over to the school with about 15 minutes to wait.  We stood behind a wall to block the wind and watched the parents drive up and stay in their running cars to stay warm.  The Dieselnator began to shiver, so I had to kneel down and cuddle him.  Finally the buses pulled out and we moved to the red pick up line.  Boo comes out holding his teacher's hand.  (Of course he does, where else does the teacher put the class clown?)  Wait for it, wait for it.  Yep, there it is!  He sees Diesel, beams, and comes running.  That's what I was wanting! 

My first question is about his gloves.  They're in daddy's truck.  Next, what does he have on under the hoody. A thermal t-shirt--that'll work.  I reach in my bag to pull out the boots and other items to find there is only one boot.  You've got to be kidding me!  Where did I drop it?  I can't do much about it at that exact moment, so I just set about adding the appropriate cold weather accessories to my son's person.  Scarf around the neck, hat on the head, and finally gloves on the hands.

"Mommy, what are you doing?"

"I'm getting you ready to walk home."

"Why Mommy?  Where's the Audi?"

"At home."

"How'd you get here?"

"I walked."

Sometimes the brightest ones can still be a little slow on the uptake.  I really don't want to have to buy him a new pair of snow boots, so I decide we'd retrace the long path Diesel and I took on the way to get him.  I held my hand out and we set to walking.  The first thing I realized was that his little legs need three steps to keep up with my long strides.  I know I asked him at least seven times if I needed to slow down.  I would and then, without realizing it, I would speed up again.  I think he ran tempo most of the way home.  We finished the add-on section of the walk and still no boot.  Boo was convinced it would be on the big hill . . . and it was.  He sprinted up the hill as fast as his legs would take him.  We stopped at the boot so he could put it on before we continued home.

I have to say this adventure was one of the best "mommy" times I've ever had.  Boo and I talked our entire walk.  He openly talked about his day at school without me feeling like I was prying.  I think he repeated, verbatim, the entire lesson on penguins.  He tried to convince me we should walk to pick Bella up from CP.  Everytime I would give him a reason we couldn't, he found a way around it.  And he's already looking foward to the next time Mommy can walk him home from school.

92/365: They Never Tasted So Good

I don't know what happened.  It started in the early evening yesterday.  I didn't feel quite right.  We were supposed to go out, but I cancelled and I'm glad I did.  From about 7PM Sunday night until about 5PM tonight, I have limited recollection.  The stomach bug hit hard.  I tried eating dinner on Sunday.  I tried to sleep it off.  I tried the bed.  I tried the couch.  I think I actually hallucinated for a while.  This morning I had Klucker bring me crackers.  I tried one and waited.  An hour later I tried another.  Ok, I thought, I'm out of the woods.  I tried to get up to fix toast.  I made it from the couch to the kitchen table and had to sit down.  After a few minutes I ventured to the pantry where I had to sit on the floor.  After segmenting this simple event into tens of steps, I got my toast.  The next six hours were filled with brief waking moments of me looking at the television to see what time it was and rolling back over.  Around 4 I actually was able to sit up for more than 10 minutes.  But then the awful headache hit.  I waited to shower until Klucker got home because I didn't know if I could stand that long.  Tonight I graduated to about a half cup of mac and cheese.  It's been two hours and I think I'm ok.  The funny thing is, with all the sleeping I've done today, I can't wait to go to bed.

91/365: You Ride Your Bike in This Weather?

To answer that question quickly:  YES!  Frostbike 2011 began this weekend.  The purpose of Frostbike is simple, to get women comfortable with riding their bikes in all types of weather.  We get them to push their limits.  Sunday, at ride time, it was about 22 degrees.  Yet over 30 rode through the streets of St. Louis.  What's even better is that we had 15 women riding on Saturday in colder temps. 

Once upon a time, I had a riding threshhold of 40 degrees.  And I thought I was amazing.  I made a promise to myself that I would get out and ride at least once a month all winter long.  And I did it.  I can remember thinking how much better of a rider I would be than everyone else because I was so hard core.  I laugh at my foolishness.  Last year, my promise was to get out and ride at least once a week all winter long.  And I did it.  I can't tell you it wasn't hard at times, but I will say it was fun.  I did it because I knew there would be other racers out riding in the cold and they couldn't get stronger than me.  If I wanted to be competitive, I'd better ride.  The coldest weather we rode in last year was 11F at ride time. It warmed up to 14F by the time we finished.  I am now sensible enough to know that no matter how much I push my comfort and my extremes, there will be someone who goes further.  I'm ok with that, but I'm not ok with being a slave to the climate.  My goal this winter is two-fold.  The first part being the same as last year, at least once a week outside on the bike.  The second is to not miss a workout. 

Our Sunday Group

90/365: When Papa Says No

Boo is Papa's boy.  I think I've written before that my father-in-law takes his role as sole grandpa to my son very seriously.  He often indulges both of my kids, spoiling them rotten, as a grandparent should.  At our house, the kids get extremely excited when they go to Grandma and Papa's.  Saturday morning, Klucker had to work so he took the kids to his parents' house for a few hours so that I could get my training done.  (yes, I'm spoiled too.)  When he got there to retrieve them, Boo could be heard outside yelling that he wanted to go home.  That's never happened. Klucker got them packed up and brought them home.  Our plans for the evening were to go back to my inlaws for a Klucker family dinner . . . all the Kluckers.  It was a pretty big deal.  Boo did not want to go.  He was adament about it.  So much so when we got there, he wouldn't get out of the car.    We went inside and shared this with Big Klucker who went out to retrieve him.  Within minutes, Papa was carrying Boo in the house with the boy being all smiles. 
 
So what was the problem, you ask?  Because I certainly did.  It seems as lunch time, Papa made PBJ for Bella and offered ham and cheese to the boy.  The favorites for each of them.  Enter the problem.  Papa couldn't find the cheese.  Well, in Boo's world, you can't have ham without cheese.  He crossed his arms and refused to eat.  He gave Papa a pretty serious look as well.  Impressively, Papa didn't cave to the pressure.  He told Boo that's what he was getting, nothing else.  He didn't give into the terroristic demands of my playboy six year old.  He also mad him remain at the table.  And so began the screaming. 
 
I have to say that Big Klucker couldn't have made me happier.  He drew a line for my boy and stuck to it.  More than that, he did it with love and compassion.