If you’ve been following my blog, Reader, you know that I’ve been waffling on whether or not to do a triathlon this year. I decided to at the last minute (read: when I could still get the cheaper rate), even though I have not been training like I really should have, even for a sprint tri.

Well, I ran it on Saturday, and the good news is, I finished! And you know? It was just FUN! A LOT more fun than last year, when the entire thing just had me freaked out. I had a miserable swim, due in large part to lack of a wetsuit (lesson learned) and the beginnings of a head cold that made it tough to breath. The bike was OK, really, for me, and I did not push it like I should have on the run and had way too much left at the end. But I loved it. I’m hooked. I see more of these in my future, now that they are just fun instead of terrifying.

But this one was preceded by an episode of Husband Failure that is just too funny not to share. The night before the race, Mike had a buddy over, and it became pretty obvious that it was going to be one of THOSE evenings. I had gone for an easy little run, just to stay loose, and when I got back I decided to get all the stuff I dug up at my Mom’s that afternoon into the ground. By the time all of that was accomplished, it was time to chase the girls to bed (Tobin had a sleepover at Grandma’s) and crawl into the shower.

Being a responsible triathlete, I packed my gear, loaded my bike, and headed up to bed before my usual bedtime, to try and read myself sleepy. The noise level from downstairs indicated that a Good Time was Being Had By All, so I shut the door to my room and kicked on the fan. Moments later, I hear “Honey!! HONEY!! Come here QUICK!” I hobbled down the stairs, imagining the worst, to find that I had been summoned because the keyboard on MY computer was not working… Because MY braincells were still fully functional, I rebooted, smacked some heads, and went back up to sleep.

Around 2:00 A.M., my beloved stumbled up the stairs.

“Honey. HONEY! Wake up. What is your password on Facebook?”

Well. Now. CLEARLY that was vital information. Definitely worth waking me up for, the night before a race. And even at 2:00 A.M., I am nobody’s fool. When it was clear that he was going to settle in for a lengthy session of pestering to get the password after my initial refusal, I got up to pee and simply located another bed until he decided to stumble back down the stairs.

2:30 A.M., and once again comes my beloved, this time thinking, “Hey! Time to get lucky!”

Dear Reader, I will spare you the details of my tactful refusal and his inebriated attempts at persuasion. Suffice it to say that in very short order he was once again stumbling back down the stairs (still, I might add, wearing his VERY LOUD BOOTS), miraculously still in possession of all his body parts.

3:00 A.M. He is back. The VERY LOUD BOOTS were tossed to the closet, the dirty socks thrown woefully short of the hamper. Dimly I become aware that he is messing with the alarm clock, which I have set for 5:00. I am instantly awake. “WHATAREYOUDOING?!”

“Honey! You don’t need to get up at 5:00! What time does the race start again?”

Because 3:00 in the morning, the day before a race, it is a good idea to MICRO MANAGE ME. Yeah, that is a GOOD IDEA.

I don’t remember clearly what I said, or did. I do know that the alarm remained set at 5:00, and am pretty sure I did not do or say anything that might require legal action if I were to confess it.

As you might guess, my beloved and my girls were not there to see me off for the swim leg of my race. And they weren’t there when I came in from the swim to head out on the bike. And they still hadn’t made it when I got back from the bike and took off for the run. But when I crossed the finish line, there they were in all their uncombed glory, my girls, and my beloved, who might as well have been wearing a sign over his head that said, “Epic Hangover.”

He took pictures, and kissed and hugged me IN PUBLIC, and helped me haul my gear back out to the truck.

I can’t wrap this up neatly with “All is forgiven” though. That would imply that I was actually MAD, which I wasn’t. Really. I was irritated, yes, but more than that I was amused in a resigned sort of way. The whole series of events just sort of epitomizes My Life as Wife and Mom - my entire crew really sucks at noticing when Mom might need something, like a little extra sleep. And fixing that just adds to an already silly list of things to do.

Go placidly amid the noise and haste,
and remember what peace there may be in silence.
As far as possible without surrender
be on good terms with all persons.
Speak your truth quietly and clearly;
and listen to others,
even the dull and the ignorant;
they too have their story.

Avoid loud and aggressive persons,
they are vexations to the spirit.
If you compare yourself with others,
you may become vain and bitter;
for always there will be greater and lesser persons than yourself.
Enjoy your achievements as well as your plans.

Keep interested in your own career, however humble;
it is a real possession in the changing fortunes of time.
Exercise caution in your business affairs;
for the world is full of trickery.
But let this not blind you to what virtue there is;
many persons strive for high ideals;
and everywhere life is full of heroism.

Be yourself.
Especially, do not feign affection.
Neither be cynical about love;
for in the face of all aridity and disenchantment
it is as perennial as the grass.

Take kindly the counsel of the years,
gracefully surrendering the things of youth.
Nurture strength of spirit to shield you in sudden misfortune.
But do not distress yourself with dark imaginings.
Many fears are born of fatigue and loneliness.

Beyond a wholesome discipline,
be gentle with yourself.

You are a child of the universe,
no less than the trees and the stars;
you have a right to be here.
And whether or not it is clear to you,
no doubt the universe is unfolding as it should.

Therefore be at peace with God,
whatever you conceive Him to be,
and whatever your labors and aspirations,
in the noisy confusion of life keep peace with your soul.

With all its sham, drudgery, and broken dreams,
it is still a beautiful world.

Be cheerful.
Strive to be happy.

Max Ehrmann, Desiderata, Copyright 1952.

I made a deal with myself last night - if I could do the bike and the run for the tri next weekend without stopping, I get to do the tri. And I did it! It had a price:

But it is not really that high. If I take ibuprofen as soon as I get home, and stretch, AND ice both achilles, I am hardly sore the next day, which is a pretty big improvement.

I just want to make it to December, then I’ll take some time off to let them settle down, but for now, my achilles tendons and I have established an uneasy truce.

As for the tri, well, I am so, so slow. It will be pretty embarrassing. BUT. I can do it. And so, I must.

My neighbor is a lawyer, and I need to ask him if saying, belligerently, “Did you make any money today?” for the bajillionth day in a row is considered enough provocation to justify assault. I need to know. Because I don’t want to do time, but if THAT MAN says that ONE MORE TIME…

Self defense, right? I mean, I have to defend my mental stability, right? And swear to God, if he starts in on that teeth-grinding refrain again, I’ll twitch out.

I will.

I snuck out for a swim at the neighborhood pool today, because I am still on the fence about doing that tri in a couple of weeks, and want to keep comfortable with the swim, just in case.

I am never sure how long I am there, when I swim. My goggles fog up about half-way through my laps, and yes, I know the trick with the spit, and it never works for the duration of my swim. I know I always wind up doing at least 2 or 3 extras because I lose count. Sound is muffled, under my swim cap.

I am almost always one of only two people in the pool, so I can only hear my own breath, feel only my own disturbances in the cool water. The late afternoon sun shines on the east half of the pool, while the west is in shadow. I feel like I could go on, endlessly, effortlessly. Just me and my breath, and the easy rhythm of my strokes, time away from time.

I’ve always loved the water - nothing makes me more serene than being in or on it. I think about where that water might have been, and when… under a barge carrying Cleopatra up the Nile? In a snowflake falling on Christmas Eve in Scotland? Rushing over Niagara Falls? In the tears of an old man in Moscow? Few things more eloquently illustrate the Oneness of All like good old H2O.

I wanted to make the title of this post “Life Lessons Suck,” but I don’t really believe that. Not really. I know intellectually that they are necessary, that people who never face challenges or struggle do not have the chance to grow. Watching your child struggle through a really difficult Life Lesson - now THAT sucks.

My Cody discovered in this last week that college football is not for him, or rather, football at Ferris is not for him. All I can really say about that is: hazing. The details are not my story to tell, and whether or not Cody will ever be ready to tell it remains to be seen.

Cody plays football from the heart. He is an emotional player, and if you gain his loyalty, he will never, ever quit on you. He plays for the team, for the friendships, for the Friday night lights with family in the stands, for the glory of his Huskies and the company of his brothers-in-arms. He plays for honor. He is a dyed-in-the-wool romantic who plays with ferocious passion, but ONLY if you have earned his respect and his loyalty.

When we left Ferris on Tuesday, the team was heading to the field for their first full pads practice, and I looked over at him, to see if he was OK. His eyes were colder than I have ever seen them, colder than I ever thought they could be. He said, “That is not my team. They could NEVER be my team. People that act like that, that allow people to act like that, will NEVER have my respect, and I won’t play for people I don’t respect.”

I don’t know very much about what happened in the five days he was there. I know he was more miserable than I have ever seen him, and that he was sure almost from the beginning that he was never going to fit in. And God, I am grateful for that. I am grateful that he could not ever become what put that cold look in his eyes that last day. I am grateful that he loves the game for all the right reasons, and that he had the strength and wisdom to walk away when none of those reasons were there any more.

Sometimes, it takes more courage to quit than it does to continue. He will take grief for his decision. It is a small campus, and he has no intentions of avoiding the weight room, so conflict is inevitable. I know my son, and I know he has the strength of character to stand up for what he believes in, even when that means walking away from a sport he loves.

My Cody Brennan, I am prouder of you today than I was a week ago. You are a person of honor and integrity, and I am deeply proud to be your Mom. Remember, life is full of things that don’t work out the way you planned - they only become failures when you don’t grow from them. You didn’t fail. You grew. I love you with all my heart.