Out of my Box (out of my head)

I am normally very low key. Don't get me wrong; I love to have a good time, but I don't like to feel like people are looking at me. I'm sure it stems from a plethora of insecurities that have been with me for as long as I can remember. There are areas of my life where I usually feel pretty secure: I am a good wife (most of the time) and am an excellent therapist (most of the time) and a very good friend. So basically, all the things that really matter I feel pretty good about. Yet, it always comes back to the way I view my outside and how I stack up against my athletic friends. It's pitiful, I know. I know all the arguments, but I still find myself there. I struggle with how much I weigh, how fast I run, and the way my face looks.

Well, Saturday my husband and I were invited to a fundraiser. I had a safe dress but needed a new strapless bra. I go out to get this new item and see a very beautiful dress that is very out of the ordinary for me. It is very low cut and shows ample cleavage, which I have a moderate amount. But, then it goes in at the waist and away from my hips and butt. In other words, it was made for my body. Well, on a whim I get it. I figure I have another one to two good years before the boobs go south. I decide I am going to wear it, and I do. I go to our friend's house where we are all having a drink before leaving, and everyone quits talking when I walk in. They all kept commenting on "the dress." I think the fact that it was so out of the ordinary for me kept them commenting; well, it could have been the blinding boobage. One friend asked me when I got the cleavage. ummm, 9th grade. Anyway, as self-conscious as I was I think it was good to step out of who I usually am. I am an attractive woman, and I don't always let that show. I tend to let how I feel about my outward appearance dictate what I present to others. I have always dreamed of being this self confident sex pot (not slutty, just sexy) and I never have the confidence to pull it off. I would like to work on that.

Run, Bike, Swim, Repeat

This has been a full weekend as far as the training goes. I ran and swam on Saturday, and this afternoon I met a friend to ride bikes. She wants to try to do a triathlon this summer too. We will probably do some of the same sprint distances and maybe one Olympic distance. We enjoyed a very leisurely ride for about 50 minutes. It was so nice to chat and not really worry about time or how fast or how far. The biking is the hardest aspect for me because I have a fear of traffic, of being slow, of looking like a fool, a fear of the spandex.... Today I just enjoyed the ride and it was great.



This is my new/used bike. Isn't it cute?










I really haven't trained with people before. My husband and I go for group runs with friends, but I am always a good little ways behind everyone else, which is fine most of the time. I have the most supportive husband and friends in the world, who cheer for me and are proud of everything I do. But when it comes down to it, you have to run your own race. I enjoy the time to think or not think; to just be with myself. But, it is great to have someone by your side sometimes so you can forget about yourself for a while.

10 weeks until the triathlon season begins.....

work story

I know that I am posting twice but this was unrelated to the other post.

Like I said in my profile, I am a speech therapist. Part of my job is working with autistic children. I have one teenager that I have been seeing for 2 1/2 years. He is very high functioning so we mainly work on his social skills. He came to therapy the other day in a good mood. This is only the second time I have seen him smile in the 2 1/2 years we've worked together. He loves coming to therapy; he just is very doom and gloom, more so than regular teenagers. He wants to be an animator when he grows up, he wears his pants up to his nipples, he is scrawny, etc. You get the mental picture. This is how our conversation goes.

Me: How are you
Him: great
me: what is going on
Him: I have just been having a really happy thought. Whenever I feel sad I think this thought and it pushes out the negative thoughts

Okay, so I should have stopped there, but I didn't.

Me: So what is it that you are thinking about?
Him: Well, last week I dreamed I was a cartoon character. I dreamed I was making out with a really hot wolf girl. Whenever I am sad I think about the hot wolf girl.

So, basically he is telling me his pg13 sex dream about a cartoon wolf girl. How sad is it that he is not even fantasizing about real girls?

So, I immediately redirect our conversation. I don't want to dwell on the wolf girl thing. It's sad and creepy and hysterical all at the same time. I probably should have addressed the whole fantasy/reality deal, but I just wanted to move on. I am so proud I did not laugh in front of him. That was as professional as I could be.

They don't teach you the therapeutic techniques for that in grad school.

PS- Don't anyone get their panties in a wad that I am making fun of autistic children; I have worked with all types of clients for 8 years and love and respect all of them. Sometimes, you just have to laugh though. Otherwise, it would be alot of tears.

Tri-ing to become crazy

So I have decided that this would be MY year. (well, I really decide that every year) I have decided that I will attempt the Chicago marathon AGAIN and will kick its ass. (This past year when I went to run it, it was called off when I was 16 miles in the middle of hell)

But, that is not enough my friends. No.... I want to try a triathlon this year. Can I run fast? No. Can I swim well? No. Are my bike skills great? Hell no. Do I think that putting three sports that I am mediocre at together is going to come together well? Well, hell yeah. I mean, it's the logical jump in reason. (cough, cough)

I literally mapped out a training schedule that went all the way through the end of 2008. That is insane. No normal person does that. No less than average athlete does that. But, here I am. I am having to accept that I am (gasp) an athlete.

It's strange because I am not athletic at all. I am painfully slow. But, that doesn't matter. I let it matter sometimes even though it doesn't. The important thing is that I am putting one foot in front of the other and persevering. That is what counts. I just have to keep telling myself that.