Progress, Hers and Mine

I finally succumbed to the germs floating through our house.  Lexi is sick again, too, keeping me company on the sofa.  We cough.  We blow noses, some of us willingly, some not.  We watch My Little Pony.  (I’m coming around to this, by the way.  These girls are always solving hella big problems and saving Canterlot and all of Equestria from ruin.  Nice work, ponies.)

Two nights in a row have been bad.  For me, anyway.  Night sweats, uncontrollable coughing, with migraines on the side.  I have a lot of experience being up at 3 in the morning, so you’d think by now I would know not to listen to the voices scrabbling around like rats at that time.  They have nothing good to say.  It’s all “Give up!”, and “Doom!”  Daylight and tea always come with reason and the strength to tell those voices to shove off.

We went to a chiropractor last Friday for Lexi, and she had some cranial-sacral therapy done.  It was lovely and relaxing for both of us.  Lex slept like a log that night and the next and had a pretty good day in between.  Then whatever effect the cranial-sacral had wore off and we were back to miserable headaches, in addition to the miserable cold.

We both wanted her to go back today, but missed our opportunity to sign up for an appointment.  We’ll wait and go to an acupuncturist on Monday.  I have a little more hope than I did last week.  We’re getting better.

I’m a wee frustrated by all this, but instead of talking about that, I’ll tell you how my triathlon training is going!

Because it is going like gang-busters, yo!  Except for missing a couple workouts.  I was overdoing it, trying to squeeze in three of each lifting/swimming/biking/running workouts each week.  I’ve backed down and can reasonable do two of each, each week, in my scant windows of time, assuming everyone is healthy and goes to school.

In this small world, the reverend who married my husband and I, also offered to teach me not to be a wimp and learn the front crawl.  She’s so fantastic, it only took two lessons and now I have a reasonably normal-looking swim stroke.  A diagram on the package of my swim cap and a tip from a friend helped me get the stupid thing on without me sounding like Gollum my kids at dinner time.  Silicone earplugs to ward off the terror of getting water in my ears.   In time we’ll deal with the idea of things touching me when I do the swim in the lake.  Currently not helping are 1. Friend K saying “Oh, yeah.  I never do triathlons.  Because of the dead bodies you might find in the lake.”  and 2. This:

The stuff dreams are made of : “Beneath the Surface” by Julie Dillon 

I was more concerned about, um, weeds until now, but, okay.

On the biking front, I got 9 miles in on Sunday.  I was crazy stressed last week and burned it off by run/walking a 5k on the treadmill.  And I can sort of swim a quarter mile.  I didn’t know how much I was capable of.  I had a little bit left after those and okay, so I came down with a wicked cold, but all of the Midwest is sick right now.  I may have overdone it, but, not by too much. I’m still moving this much and this fast out of denial and fear, but I am feeling better and better.  And you should see my pipes! I’m almost, practically, sort of ripped!  I booked us a room in Door County for three nights around the triathlon, to turn it into a vacation for us.  I’m, dare I say it, excited about the future.

**Shh!  You guys!  Something amazing is happening right now.  I waved her off after school, telling her she had to do a “Twelve-twelve pickup” in her room before she could watch a video. (Because she can reliably count to twelve, get it?) She could easily stand in any spot of her room and pick up 24 things without moving her feet at all. This should have taken 2 minutes, tops.  She refused.  AND IS NOW PLAYING BY HERSELF.  Singing a song, wearing a crown, avoiding me at all costs, not even carrying the kitten around and moping.  (God bless that sweet, patient, kitten.)  She hasn’t played, really played, or sung her funny little songs (with repeating themes of “The Greatest Day Ever” and “You Can Do Anything You Want To”,) in too long.  This is good.  Really good.  And now I have even more hope.**

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