Excitement

is definitley setting in now.

I went to the venue and got my numbers officially painted on my arm and leg. Perhaps it is a bit like a toe tag? The leg number is F 56...as in 56 year old Female. Hmmmmmm. Normally painted on the left leg, had to be on my right. I like being different! Left arm: 278. I'm suddenly struck with the fact that I am doing this, and better, that I CAN do this! It is all very exciting, yet calming.

There is a steak on the broiler. That is dinner. Only that. The truck will be packed before I eat, and re-checked in the morning before I get going. The list will be checked twice.

If I can move tomorrow night I will update. I think I will be riding high.

G2

This and that yet again

First of all, it is Yardican Hurricanehunter that is Kate's sire, just for the record. Yep, I call him "Hunter" but there are numerous Hunters out there, so thought I would set the record straight. (Thanks to Castell Pembroke Welsh Corgis for the picture.)


Then, her mama is Castell Finnish Affair. I did the big bad and spelled it wrong in the archives. Amazing what fixing that did. Suddenly she has info that I did not submit. Cool!

That said, all is quiet on the doggie front. Bliss.

I had a melt down yesterday. Pre-race jitters I guess. I look at my wetsuit. My racing jersey. My number belt. My helmet. My funny little tri-shorts. My fancy running leg. All make me smile. Then I catch a glimpse of myself in a mirror and my world comes crashing down. The whole REAL picture does not fit the fantasy in my head. It's depresssing. I'm scared. I wonder why the heck I am doing this. After the lake swim I literally fell apart in the parking lot. Lisa Bee picked me up. I guess that is why she does what she does. She is quite good at it. I just want my old body back. I can't have it. Nothing is spontaneous any more. Nothing is easy. Yet if it is so hard, then why am I not stick thin from the exertion involved in just doing normal day to day "stuff?" sigh. I won't go back and wallow, as that is not the point of this. The point is that I am me. Just that. No big "inspiration." No one to try to emulate. Just little, sigh, OK big, old me. I can't carry the extra stress that trying to live up to everyone else's expectations puts upon my shoulders. I have plenty of my own stuff to carry. Sometimes I need a hand carrying my own stuff, but will never ask. I am my father's daughter. I realized last night that I don't want this to be the day after the race. I just want it to be the day of the race. I don't want to miss out on that rush of crossing the finish line. I just want to be done with the pre-race jitters. I want proof that I can, indeed, turn those jitters into the energy that will carry me through the race. 72 more hours and I will find out. Thanks, Lisa, for being there for me, and all the other ladies that count on you.

With that I must go and do some work. Once again the pool is green as it has been on the back burner too long and the weather has been too nice. I think I need a pool boy...

Song of the day?

"Fly Like an Eagle" Steve Miller

Time keeps on slippin', slippin', slippin'
Into the future
Time keeps on slippin', slippin', slippin'
Into the future

I want to fly like an eagle
To the sea
Fly like an eagle
Let my spirit carry me
I want to fly like an eagle
Till I'm free...

G2

The tale of the tail

That would be Kate's tail.

I noticed on Sunday that she had an odd spot on her tail. A spot where the hair was parting funny, or shedding out funny, or something.

I have to go with the "or something." I also noticed that she wasn't too pleased when I combed it out on Saturday and Sunday. Perhaps I should have checked her closer. Perhaps it would have just freaked me out. Perhaps...Poor baby.

Yesterday the spot looked even bigger so I wrastled her down and took a closer look. It wasn't too hard as there is a pretty large bald spot now. There, clear as day, was the skin. And a bunch of little scabs. Creepy scabs that sent my heart a pitter patter as they looked a tad like parasites. Nope, they look like, are are, puppy tooth holes! Poor Kate.

I think I told you that Nugget likes to snare Kate and ride her, by the tail, down the hill in the field. She runs full speed for the ball and upon return he ambushes her. She is so fast that his only hope of keeping up is to grab her tail. Now it seems that the "ambush" is more of a de-bush. Poor doggy.

She is way too kind. I have now taken to getting a ball into his mouth so that as he runs so he can't grab her. I feared he would break her tail. He is so big and heavy and she runs so very fast, down hill, well, your imagination can take it from there. Ow! She will not put him in his place. He now is getting a bit of tough love from his human Mom. Most of the sharp little puppy teeth are now big boy toofers. He still has all the canines and they are the worst. Hopefully they will go soon. He has never been mouthy with me. He hasn't needed to, I guess. He has Kate to chomp on. My poor little pincushion. Lucky for me she is beginning to molt. I will soon be able to, easier, go over her with a fine tooth comb and see if there is any other damage. I suspect it is just the tail and the fact that she is running so fast when he grabs her and her momentum is also contributing.

So I will stop and get some tea tree oil today. I hope it tastes REALLY nasty and that the first run for the ball gives him a nasty mouthful. Poor Katelan....

G2

Kate

did really well. I am incredibly proud. While we weren't in the points, she was happy, showed great expression, and wagged her tail even when on the table. While I would have loved some points, I feel she has really come out of her shell and seems to be enjoying herself. I feel pretty relaxed as well, so perhaps she is no longer picking up on my stress. Whatever it is, it makes me smile when she smiles. I love the goober, and I just want her happy. I really think the biggest factor in her transformation is the Nugget pup. She really needed someone to mother. He really keeps her busy. I am also quite proud of Nugget as he was a very good boy locked away in the crate while I was in the ring with Kate. As a reward for all of us we got to go play with all the other long tailed corgis after we left the venue. I drove home with sleeping doggies. It was nice.

Mark Thorson took a couple of pictures of Nugget. No collar, no bait. His breeder really wanted to see an update of how he is looking. Thanks to Mark for doing this!






Next week I train like a crazy person. My first tri is this coming Saturday. EEEEK!

G2

EEEEK! Tomorrow?

Gone are the days of panic before a show, I guess. Days? I think it used to be weeks! Tomorrow I will be rising at the crack of dawn to prep Kate for an 0845 ring call. In Puyallup. Close to two hours from here. It is now 1930. I need to be up in 8.5 hours. I haven't packed.

The dogs are clean. All three. Kate is losing her coat in her pre-heat shed. She got the first bath. I don't think I have told the number one son enough how much I love that grooming trailer. I vacuumed the house BEFORE bathing the dogs. The bath tub in the trailer was backing up from all the hair Kate lost during the bath. On Sunday I will stop her coat formula and she should shed out pretty fast. It will not be fun. After Kate was dry I decided it had been way too long since Henry was bathed. He has already shed, and there was no better time than the present as the trailer was set up and wet. Once he was done it was time for the pup. I decided to do him in the bath room as that is what he is used to and he is so easy. No drying. I had already traumitized him by grinding his nails and trimming his feet.

So I am now wet and itchy. I will shower tonight as Kate will need her "real" grooming in the morning before we leave. I printed out my check list and will load the truck tonight. Since it is only a day trip I can pare the list in half. It is odd not to be freaking out. Perhaps I am just too tired!!

For now I am off to load the truck and get gas and bridge and parking money. I don't figure on doing much at the show as Kate is not looking her best due to the hormones and hair loss. Perhaps that is why I am feeling so relaxed about it all. Whatever it is, I am liking it! We shall see how real it is when I try to fall asleep...

G2

I don't need no stinkin' wetsuit

and I hope "Nemo" is OK.

Today was our first swim at Wildcat Lake in Kitsap County. At 7:30 in the am. The pre-swim report was that the water temperature was a balmy 61 degrees. I carefully loaded everything, including crutches, in the truck last night.

Orientation involved meeting and loving the goldfish Nemo, then releasing him to freedom in the lake. The concept being that he is the friendly face of all the "scary" critters that our imaginations conjure up when swimming in murky water.

Nemo and his friends and family didn't scare me. Getting into the water scared me. The logistics of it all. Leg on bank? Crutches? Hop? Sand? Rocks? Yes, I do tend to over think things, but it is certainly not my nature to rely on others for help. Not even little Nemo, who likely is still trying to figure out where the heck he is and why he is so cold.

I opted to leave the leg up high on the bank and crutch to the bulkhead. Following all the other women in their fancy, schmancy, tri wetsuits. I believe there were three of us Scottish types, who just couldn't yet justify the expense. (Then there is the fact that those expensive wetsuits that I might purchase now would hopefully be waaay too big come the end of the season! Yep, that's the real reason.) So I crutch to the water and hop into the lake. It is nowhere near as cold as I think it should be. Perhaps it is the fact that the air temperature is much lower than the water temperature. Now comes the hard part. I must navigate from the just above ankle height water to the just above knee height water so that I can swim out to waist height water. On rocks. ouch! (Make note: buy water socks.) No thank you. I can do this myself. Funny, I hear my voice sounding like the grand kids' voices. Now remember, this is an orientation, right? That means lots of standing around listening, then a bit of doing, then more listening. I opt for sitting in the shallower water. At neck height when sitting. I look at all those wetsuit clad women standing at the bulkhead shivering, and smile...until I think about Nemo. Oh my gosh. Isn't this about where she released him? Suddenly my imagination takes off and I am sure that I can feel goldfish fins struggling under my less than svelte tush. Of course it is not real, I convince myself, about the time we go for another drill. I do, however, make sure that I feel around carefully before I plant aforementioned tush for the next round of instruction.

All is well. I survived and no one needed to be rescued this morning. I even made it in and out of the lake without assistance. It was nice to have the offers, however, and I need to make sure they all know that. (Another note made.) Same time next week. This next time there will be no fear of sitting on Nemo, or worse, swallowing the now flattened dead Nemo as I swim to the piling and back.

It wasn't that cold. Puget Sound on the first of January? THAT was cold.

Tri-Babes rock!!
http://kitsaptribabes.com

G2

Does overplanning

lead to overachieving?

Oldest child, the one who I will be doing the Triathlon with in two weeks, calls and wants to come over. Grand-girls also want to come as school has made visits difficult, to say the least.

He is a kid who has always jumped into things with both feet...and arms...and head...you get my drift. Good, and bad, that has always been his style. Now that he is making good choices, it has served him quite well in all ways.

Anyway, he is very excited about this upcoming race. Oh, did I mention that I am frickin' crazy to be even considering this, much less with Mr. Davis Double Century (that is a 200 mile one day bike race in California)? Me, who is sore after doing five miles. He might as well be ready to just crawl alongside me if we plan on doing this "together." sigh. So he wants to plan the "transitions." On paper. On video. I think he really wanted to practice, but the logistics of getting his bike over on the ferry was just too crazy with two young kids.

I am so excited to see him and the kids that he is having a hard time getting me to focus. Focus? OK, dear. So we make a list of the things we will need for the swim. Then the things we will need for the biking. Then the run. Then he wants me to put them in order, because, you see, we need to "transition" from one to the next; we certainly wouldn't want the towel to be under the socks. Sadly, I think he figures to beat some kind of record; me? I just am hoping to be able to get the wetsuit off and the leg on, and be comfortable enough to be able to run after the bike ride. Focus, Mom. Sure, dear. Did you check out how light my new leg is? Sorry...

I settled down and got with the program, carefully numbering the order of objects for each transition. My teacher checked my work and I got an "A." Then we all went out to play with the dogs and the horse. A reward for a job well done.

I have a funny feeling I will be "transitioning" in my sleep tonight. Not a bad thing if it makes me even a tad bit faster, eh???

I love you, dear. Bear with me. We will make it across the finish line. That much I can promise.

G2

Three years later

As I was looking at the pictures of Henry three years ago, I realized that I was still in the throws of PG and the treatment. Now, three years later, it seems like a lifetime ago. At times, when I have the leftover headache, I look at some of the pictures I took and am in awe that I have a right hand. I thought about posting them, but they might be hard for some to take. I find them pretty interesting; an anatomy lesson of sorts.

So, this is your warning. Do NOT scroll down if you are not in the mood.





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The wound first turns black and then begins to slough.





This was after the first infusion.




I cannot remember how many infusions I had, but a headache is pretty easy to deal with since it means I have two hands.

'Tis fascinating what modern medicine, good doctors, and research can do.

G2

It's your day, Henry

Three years ago you came into the world. I am better for it. You make me laugh and you make me cry. You brought a whole new world to me. For all of that I am grateful. Today you and I will have some quiet time together...just the two of us. I love you, Henry Long Legs.

G2

All Quiet on the western front

Henry is five days post op. Today is the first day since his surgery that I awoke with the headache. We are all much happier and easier to live with. He is a happy camper and doesn't seem to notice any change. I am a happy camper and notice a huge change. Nugget also had noticed a change and torments poor Henry just to hear him bark. The spray bottle on the computer desk now has Nugget's name on it.

Our first brick is this weekend. I have a patch behind my knee that is lacking skin. Biking rubs the area raw, because of the constant friction caused by my knee flexing. This must be fixed and I am hoping it is something simple. In three weeks I have my first triathlon with my son. I really need to train!! Today I need to shop for a shorty wetsuit. I suspect Cottage Lake will still be pretty darn cold in three weeks...

Nugget got his DNA test back on Degenerative Myelopathy. He is normal on both sides! Seeing so many Pembrokes suffer with this ugly disease I fear that Cardigans may be not too far in the future. I know that my boy will not contribute to the problem. That is a good thing!! I really wish that breeders would wake up and smell the roses, or maybe lilacs in this case, and routinely test their breeding stock. I would never buy a pup that has not been tested for this and a few other things. Until the buyers demand it there will be breeders that "let it slip by."

So I am off to the store for some meat for the pups and some chocolate for me. The headache is gone now, and life is sweet!

G2