Love Conquers All Things, Even The Porta Potty

I’m training for the MS 150 bike ride from Houston to Austin. I’ve decided it will be a bonding experience for my husband and I. He has done it twice already, while I stood on the side-lines and cheered him on. This time I want to take part. I think it will make us stronger as a couple. We will face the challenges of the ride together and our love will blossom even more. That and I want the darn t-shirt that tells the world I did it!
I am completely unfazed that I haven’t really ridden a bike in 12 years. Doesn’t matter that I don’t even have a road bike yet to ride on. I’m not sure I can ride a mile, much less 150 miles. I’m pretty sure I am very out of shape, no I know, I am out of shape. The fact that I will have to “clip in” (bike shoes that clip onto your pedal) scares me to death. All of that I can overcome, if I set my mind to it. But that dang porta potty, that coffin of human waste, I’m not sure I can overcome that.

I have anxiety about small spaces. Not a phobia, so much as a strong dislike. Porta potties are small, usually hot and dark, which exasperates the problem. I’m also a very visual person. I see an image and it pastes itself into my minds eye forever. So as I hover over the hole of other peoples sewage, people I don’t even know,  I invariably get a view I’d care never to see. That picture is now forever in my head and will pop up at the most inopportune times, like when I’m sitting down to eat a filet mignon with creamy mashed potatoes and some chocolate cake for dessert. You get the idea, right?

Not to mention the smell. Why would anyone willingly walk into a hot shoebox of a space that smells like the feed lots of Dalhart, Texas. At least the feed lots are the “smell of money”, porta potties do not have such a distinction. They just stink and they make me gag. It doesn’t help that for us females our anatomy requires us to spend more intimate time with the porta potty, no quickies there. And one last thing. Why on earth would you design a toilet in such a small space where the urinal is right at nose level with the actual toilet space? Do I have to look at that while I’m trying my hardest not throw up as it is?

I’ll be making sure I drink lots and lots of fluids so I don’t get dehydrated and fall off my bike. And we all know what happens  when we drink lots of fluids. So for every training ride leading up to the 150 mile ride and for the ride itself the only choice I will have for a bathroom break will be the porta potty. I won’t be able to just hold it or wait for a big tree to squat behind.  I will have to face the dreaded porta potty. And honestly, for 38 years I have avoided all events that required me to use a porta potty and so this is huge. This is how much I love my husband. I love him so much that I will face my nemesis. I will stare down the porta potty and I will survive. All in the name of love.

Have you done something amazing for love? But more importantly, can you use a porta potty without gagging? Because if you can I’d like some tips on how to do it.

A Momma Training for a 5K

closely resembles a circus act. It's full of juggling, improvising, and swinging from place to place. Remember how I made that turkey day pledge? Yes, it was insane. I realize that now. But let me just give you a brief run down of my first week of training. The weather was nice the first couple of days so I was able to take Little One with me in the jogging stroller. She loves it, thank goodness. My two older children joined me the first day. It was nice to have the distraction as we huffed and puffed up and down hills. The first week was just walking 30 minutes, which was very doable. The first 10 minutes were challenging, but after that we got our stride.
On my fourth day of working out the weather took a drastic turn. Yes, I realize it is winter, but I've been spoiled by decent weather so far. I bundled up Little One and by the time we got to the end of the street I realized that my child would be a human Popsicle after 30 minutes so I returned home, frustrated. It was starting to get dark and hubby was working on the shower remodel(I will have to share this adventure with you later). Not willing to give up I decided to run up and down my stairs for my workout. After 4 trips Little One was screaming at the bottom of the stairs for me. So I scooped her up and carried her up and down the stairs with me until I feared in my exhaustion I would drop her. That was the end of that day's workout.
On the fifth day I went for my walk, but hadn't had a chance to eat a substantial breakfast and by the time I reached the top of my first hill my stomach was growling so loud I knew I wasn't going to have the energy to run my first 1 minute stretch. Now, 1 minute may not seem like much, but just let me tell you for this old gal it's enough to kill me. Anyway, we returned home and I vowed to try again later in the day after the errands and household chores were complete. Later that day I tried again, but I had to stay close to home since my oldest was playing at a neighbor's and I wanted to stay in sight. We managed to pick up a neighbors terrier who ran under my feet and right in front of the stroller the whole time as Little One screeched "See, See" anytime the dog was out of her sight. Frustrated I tried to run down our street as Little One, Soph and doggie played but as I ran past the neighbors house Em came running toward me screaming "Mom, wait, Mom!!" I looked at my stopwatch, I'd only been running 20 seconds (really it felt like 20 minutes). I tried to put up my hand asking her to wait a second. This signal is lost on all my children. I think they just believe I'm waving my hands around for fun, because they always continue to seek my attention. Finally, lacking 30 seconds of my run, I stop and ask what the dear child wants. "Can I stay a few more minutes?" she asks. Deep sigh, I shake my head yes and ending my workout try to wrangle the terrier back to his house.
I miss a couple of days due to weather and then beg my husband to meet me at our exercise center after work. Soph has a swim lesson and I bring hubby's and the girls swimsuits so all can swim while I workout. After wrestling with an anxious Little One at the club for 30 minutes hubby calls to say he's not going to make it. Urggh. Now I have to go into the pool with the kids, but guess what I have no swimsuit. So I put on my sports bra, my husbands speedo (which is the kind that goes to your knee, not bikini!) and a t-shirt. Pouting I get into the pool with my kids.
We are in the shallow training pool and as I pout I hear the voice of my Great Aunt Alma Lou saying, "Honey, when life gives you lemons you just got to make some of that sweet lemonade!"
Okay, so I don't have a great aunt, but I heard that voice never less.
So I scoop up Little One and pushing her in front of me in the 3 1/2 feet water I start to walk back and forth the length of the pool. Little One giggles happily and as we reach each end of the pool I lift her out to the side where she eagerly jumps to me and then we walk to the other end and repeat. Then I run a few laps. Surely, I get extra points for dragging my Little One along with me and then walking against the resistance of the water.
After 30 minutes everyone has had their fun and it's time to change and get home for supper.
So after a week of training I realize it is not going to be the easiest. Luckily, as all of us moms know, we have to interject a little bit of creativity into everything we do when kids are underfoot.
I'll let you know if it doesn't kill me!

My Crazy Turkey Day Pledge...

All I can say is that I was under the influence of turkey and stuffing. Because I can think of no other reason for doing what I did...

The kids were happy with their full belly's and promise of pie to come so I was actually able to participate in some post meal conversation. My sister and husband's voices drifted down to my end of the table.

"Okay, why did you sign up for the Olympic Triathlon in Galveston, I thought we were doing the Sprint?" WB asks.

"Well, I'm doing a sprint the month before and thought it would be good warm-up for the one in Galveston. And besides my competitive nature came out when I found out my friend was doing the half ironman", this from my sister.

And little old me at the end of the table is thinking they are both sort of neurotic. WB with his knee problems and my sister who just recovered from a stress fracture in her foot that had her off her feet for quite some time. Really some people just get carried away, this thought is running through my head as I listen to them debate back and forth. I point out neither one of them should be running. The swimming and biking are fine, but not the running with their injuries.

"We can do the rely, just need someone to do the running leg I guess." WB says, thinking out loud. Good idea, I think...someone else should do the running.

And here's where I make a tragic mistake. You see I have a flaw. I always feel the need to help people out. Okay, so sometimes it's a good thing, but other times it gets me in a whole mess of trouble. On this occasion it got me into running.

First let me explain something, I hate to run. No, actually I despise it. I was the cross country manager in high school and I drove my car around to help wayward runners or on occasion rode a bike along with the runners. I did this because I greatly admire runners, their dedication, their endurance, their ability. And I know my limits. Running up and down the basketball court was more than enough running for me in my short-lived high school career.

And here's something else, I've never probably ever run even a mile at one time much less 3.2 or whatever the heck I'm supposed to run for this triathlon. I run after my wayward child in the grocery and that is it, period!!

So there I was drunk on turkey and stuffing and the words tumbled out of my mouth before I knew what I was saying. Next thing I know my sister is printing up my training schedule, which is titled from couch to triathlon...I'm thinking it should read from couch potato to triathlon. It gives me exactly 4 months to train for this event...like four months to the day. The day after Thanksgiving I find myself sprinting around a very packed Academy as my sister fits me for some running shoes. I kept the sprints short so I wouldn't get winded in front of the crowd of shoppers, I do have my pride after all. Instead of a day of shopping for clothes for my birthday, I instead shopped for the running gear I would need. Happy Birthday to Me...just that phrase invokes memories of a terrible slasher, horror movie I saw in my teenage years, but the image was so appropriate.

My sister and I after day one. I walked 25 minutes, she ran for 40.
I do have a confession to make here, I'm digging the outfit. I mean when I put on my ultra-sleek running tights, top, shiny new shoes, topped off with my cute little pink hat I feel powerful. Much more powerful than I am, but still. I feel like an athlete, I feel fast, I feel like I might actually be able to do this...then I go for my first run. Well, actually I walk for the first month, but even that hurts. It has been a long time since I have power walked for 25 minutes in the freezing temperatures. The memories come flooding back as to why I hate this type of exercise, especially when my sides begin to ache and my joints remind me of my arthritis. Okay, so I only have mild arthritis in my hands, but I swear the rest of my body is about to follow suite. But amazingly at the end of my walk I'm feeling pretty good. The next day WB gets out the double jogging stroller and I take Little One for my walk. Funny how pushing a stroller adds a whole new element of challenge to my quest, not to mention the hills we are surrounded by.

So today is day three, and I've got to say it is sort of addicting in a way. Of course, I haven't actually started running yet, just walking. I know the running will kick my hiney, and I'm fully prepared for that. I know that if I don't stick to my training my sister will kick my hiney even harder, so I have some motivation. Really , she gets a little competitive, no idea where that comes from.

So join me in the next four months as I share with you my ups and downs of this little journey. Feel free to chime in with some of your own experiences. I'll need all the help I can get!!