Before going plant-based, I rocked mac and cheese. To the point that, because the only cheese ever used was Tillamook cheddar, I wouldn’t eat anyone else’s. A batch would be whipped up and devoured by my family, every time we declared it was the best one yet!
Since ditching dairy, homemade macaroni and cheese holds little appeal because, when you’ve had the best – why would you want anything subpar? We’ve tried many versions because my daughter is convinced that there is a plant based version some where that will taste good. One was made with vegan mayo (ewww), others made with coconut milk (hard pass), or even sweet potato and carrots blended (ehhh). We also tried the blue box knock offs – they were close to Kraft, but always just….wrong. Non dairy cheeses are not my favorite. Many have a gross aftertaste or a “stick to the back of your teeth” weird mouth-feel. Just not my jam. So far, the only vegan “cheese” sub I like is Miyoko’s pourable mozzarella. On nachos or homemade pizza, it’s delish!
I recently purchased Nora Taylor’s cookbook and it is gorgeous! We’ve made quite a few of the recipes and so far – all have been quite tasty. Her blueberry scone recipe was already our family’s go-to! Last night’s marinated tofu over rice with roasted veggies was so good I ate it for breakfast today! Flipping through the pages, I hesitated when I came across yet another macaroni and cheese recipe.
In the interest of satisfying my daughter’s yearning for yet another attempt, we made it for dinner. Dubiously gathering ingredients – it all came together quickly. The panko topping (w/melted vegan butter and paprika) was delightful and definitely made the dish. (Panko breadcrumbs were a staple on my earliest homemade iterations.) The creaminess was perfect.
Dearest daughter LOVED it. She ate 3 servings and swears she will eat it left over as well. Eric took a couple bites and said, “Nahhh. Not for me.”
If a person is used to dairy and animal products – vegan substitutes are going to taste wrong. It’s food pretending to be something that it’s not. If animal products aren’t in the diet, in my experience – tastes adapt. My tastes completely changed a few months after transitioning to plant based eating. Ultimately, this is a decent vegan Mac. Better than others we’ve tried.
All food experiments teach us something. I think what I’ve discovered is that I cannot stand nutritional yeast. The smell, the flakiness, I dunno, but it’s revolting to me in large quantities. There is one dish that I like it in, and it’s Mushroom Stroganoff. (Probably bc it’s only a couple of tablespoons.) Some plant based people talk about eating nutritional yeast, or “nooch”, by the spoonful and I quietly throw up in my mouth at the thought.
Even though this was more of a miss than a hit on my taste buds, (it looked promising!) I did branch out and try another vegan cheese sub. Kroger’s in-house brand Simple Truth did a dairy free cream cheese that we use on bagels that is quite good. None of these subs are what I would classify as “healthy” by any means, but it is nice to have options.
No weird mouth feel, no yucky aftertaste – I think what I may need to do is use my own Mac and cheese roux-based recipe and find the best non-dairy cheddar and see if that works, because Nooch is a no-go!
At the very least, it wasn’t nearly as bad as the epic black bean burger fail of 2017!
I am not a regular consumer of Fox News Entertainment, but am familiar with famous pundits on the channel including Mr. Hannity. Politically, I’m more issues focused. Some social issues I lean left, some conservative, some I have no opinion about. I have voted for conservative/traditional republican candidates and liberal/democrat candidates.
After a recent discussion of current events with a family member, I was challenged to watch Sean Hannity for one week.
My takeaways:
The level of propaganda is stark and worse than I thought. If one consumes only an opinion show as a complete picture of the news, there is no discussing current events because there isn’t a set of basic common facts that are understood.
We no longer live in the world of Walter Cronkite/traditional journalism. With the repeal of the Fairness Doctrine under President Reagan, news outlets no longer have to report from multiple sides of a given issue. Enter far more polarizing media. Amplify that 1000x with the algorithms in social media feeding whatever a person engages with more. In other words, if you click on something, watch a reel all the way through, share a post, the algorithm is designed to feed you more of the same content. Not the truth, not a contradictory opinion, but more and more of the same. Engagement is the goal.
“It’s us or it’s them,” “You’re either for us, or against us,” In-group/outgroup thinking is part of what got us here. Black and white thinking: it’s either this or that. There’s no nuance. There’s not viable third, fourth or more options. As an example: Portland is “war-ravaged” with highly edited or even fabricated footage, or Portland is a land of utopian weirdness. From friends who actually live in Portland: “There are protestors in a 3 block area near the federal ICE building. It’s been heated and there have been clashes between local law enforcement, federal ICE agents, and protestors. We are not war ravaged. We aren’t a wasteland of violence”. So often it’s not this or that, but something in the middle.
Without basic historical knowledge, it’s difficult to put current events into context. It all becomes “unprecedented”. Guess what? It’s precedented. Consolidation of governmental powers has happened in many countries. There have been pandemics. It’s just the first time for many of us.
If it bleeds it leads. Even local news affiliates seem to follow this ethos, but it is far more pervasive in cable news networks. If the doom and gloom 24/7 news cycle is on constantly in the background of life, that has impact. Say something as fact enough times, people will believe it. Ratchet up the intensity of “the world is on fire and going to hell” message, and to no one’s surprise, people believe the world is actually going to hell and on fire.
I looked up a couple of recent headlines on different sites noted in the caption of each image. The same headline is vastly different depending on the source. This is not coincidence. Some are reporting facts via journalistic criteria, others are deliberately inflammatory, feeding the audience what it wants to hear.
If we consume only what is spoon-fed to us, we will eat any number of lies and half truths.
To combat propaganda, party-talking points and try to get a more complete view of the news (without completely going insane), my approach is to consult multiple sources on a given topic. Reuters, Associated Press, etc. tend to be more in line with traditional journalism ethics. Heather Cox Richardson’s analysis of headlines puts news into historical context, also available in podcast format. The following are sites known for more centralized fact checking when consuming any news:
Straight Arrow News is a site that publishes not only the news, but also what may be missing. Here’s today’s screen shot of “Media Misses”. It’s what may be missing on the right or the left side of reports on a given headline.
Ultimately, relationships with our people are more important than any headline. Also, truth is something worth seeking, especially in the media. I’m probably not going to change anyone’s political opinions with my own, or vice versa, but it was a great exercise in critical thinking and taking the 10,000 foot view in context of a challenge.
Remember that Chumbawumba ear worm? It’s been knocking around my brain for the past few weeks. Let’s start by establishing the fact that everything I’m about to spew is not earth shattering. It’s not about the horrors that are happening on the daily in the world and on the news. It’s simply the noise of a tiny world in the six inches between my ears.
At the beginning of last month my sweet offspring brought home the Covid. She lost taste and smell, had a low grade fever for a couple of days. but stayed home and recovered fairly quickly. I was a couple days behind her with fever and malaise….and a month later still a lingering cough. No big deal, more of an irritant at this point. (Friendly reminder, please stay home if you are sick to avoid spreading it near and far.) Luckily we were the only two who caught it – rest of the house stayed well..
Fall, back to school, sports, PSAT/SAT registrations, officiating, all the things are in full swing – it’s our busy season for sure. So that would be the perfect time to not only try to recuperate from the ‘vid, but also grow not one, but two, abscesses that need lancing. Because who doesn’t want to walk around with a gaping wound trying to still drive people places and go to events and workout? (insert eye roll here.). Bodies are SO weird. And gross.
The thing that really grinds my gears is the fact that I tried to workout through this process and have probably prolonged the healing. I KNOW BETTER. What’s a couple of weeks off in the big scheme of things? Logically it’s no big deal. Listen to our body, let it rest and heal and get back to business as usual – but healthy. In my infinite wisdom, I extended the fun even longer by pretending it wasn’t happening and if ignored – it goes away! (Insert even bigger eye roll here.)
I knock myself down, I will get back up again….eventually. Just probably not as soon as I would prefer.
PSA: don’t be dumb like me. Find a way to embrace the rest and go with it. Workouts and life and the to do list will still be there.
Since it’s in my head, I will share the gift here:
At this point, it’s just a part of who I am. I’m a person who doesn’t drink. It’s normal. I don’t really think about alcohol as an option. They days tick by and I do the dishes, the laundry, make meals, walk the dog, run kids to things and all the other routine life stuff. It’s just a given. Each year in June, I take the time to celebrate, marking the day with a bit of reflection.
Saw a cool rainbow on June 1st. Seemed appropriate on multiple levels.
I participate in a sober/sober curious fitness group and regularly interact with folks questioning their relationship with alcohol, sober curious, long term sober and everything in between. It’s a really cool part of the internet. I’m grateful I get to be involved.
One gift about this phase of sobriety is I get to pass on the things I learned to others. I benefited greatly from the wisdom of people further down the sobriety path. Now I get to pass that wisdom, and my own, on to folks just reaching out. That is a beautiful thing.
Another gift is that interacting with people in various points of their fitness/sobriety allows me to stay in touch with what it feels like – viscerally – in the beginning. It could be so easy to let those memories fade as it is not where I am now. Being reminded that it wasn’t always such an “auto pilot” experience is a valuable lesson in humility and extending grace.
As the minions are fully into their teens now – we talk about all this stuff openly. I’m grateful I don’t have to tell them “do as I say, not as I do”. Their bullshit radar is at max detection. They see through our nonsense and I’m so grateful for it. All of it – the mundane, the highs and lows – is where sobriety really shines. Taking life on life’s terms and knowing that regardless of circumstances, we will be here with clear heads and eyes open ready to tackle what comes, and that we always have their back. That’s the best gift I can give them.
Eight years seems long, but time has its weird way of bending and warping as usual. I love the physicality of the number – 8 – it’s infinity turned on its side. Infinitely clear eyed, infinitely grateful. Eight seems pretty damn great.
Whenever this silly event rolls around, I hem and haw about how many miles to do, how to fit it into the weekend events and errands, how long it will take, etc. PeloFondo is an endurance event where cyclists all over the Peloton world pledge to ride a specific number of miles/kilometers and have 2 days to complete the goal. While I’ve made these goals and achieved them ten times now, this is the third time attempting the 100 miler. The first one was shortly after I got the bike. It took all dang day and I felt like trash afterward. Last July attempting to beat the time for the same mileage, we were also fighting our HVAC in a particularly hot weather spell. Not fun, but the job was done, and cooler air prevailed.
Two goals in mind going in to this weekend. First – don’t trash my body and need a week to recover. At this point, working hard and feeling the slight soreness of muscles is great, but I am over the “hobble-around-and-can’t-sit-down-on-the-toilet-without-groaning-in-pain-because-I worked-so-hard” phase. Also, will never skip the warm up or the cool down and stretches. Makes the recovery SO much better. EVERY. TIME. The second goal was to beat the time. Didn’t care by how much, just wanted to see some improvement.
Tweaking the attack plan was instrumental this go around. Instead of throwing myself against the wall and doing all the miles in one day, this time both days were in play. No need to fly and die. Gels, sports chews and other endurance nutrition are typically not my friend, digestically speaking, so this time meals and real food breaks were mandatory. Mandarin oranges, bananas, toast, granola bars, water and electrolytes. Meals were simple, like bean and brown rice burritos which provided longer lasting complex carbohydrates. Pasta was consumed after the first day. It was delicious, and set up energy levels nicely for day 2.
It took 10 classes, but felt SO much better without physical annihilation! Genius! Working smarter not harder actually does produce results!
What surprised me is that the second day, 2 classes were PRs. The second day. Where my legs. were. already. tired. Somehow, this beast was a negative split in terms of speed. The last 3 classes were the fastest. Rest, fuel, hydrate = kicking ass.
What did not surprise me was the incredible team I ride with. Our common bonds are sobriety and a Peloton. Teammates who have overcome terrifying health scares, work changes, life stuff, family obligations and so much more, but hold on to their fitness and sobriety is incredible. It’s beyond inspiring. So inspiring in fact, that initially, 100 miles wasn’t even on the table. Pledging 50, doing my part. That was good enough.
But, then as other folks started racking up mileage, setting challenging goals and sharing their why, it compelled me to up the ante. I mean, if 50 is doable, then surely that metric century is doable bc that’s only 12 more miles. And if I can do 62 miles, well, 70 is a nice even number to round up to. But, 75 is a quick 5 more. No problem! And seriously, if doing 75, what the heck – why not just do the dang hundo? If some is good, more is DEFINITELY better.
This shit escalates rather quickly.
Glad to have another one done and dusted. Humbled and encouraged by teammates who chase goals and dreams and share this lunatic passion for fitness and sobriety! Ever thankful for the hardest workers ever – my padded bib shorts, the unsung heroes of the weekend!
Although I dipped my toe in the vegetarian end of the pool as a teenager, I had never eaten tofu until I firmly committed in 2017 to do the plant based thing. The first time I purchased it, the sad white block sat in my fridge untouched until the expiry date and it was tossed. The second time, I felt determined and pulled it out a few times to look at the packaging, but always quickly decided on something else for dinner instead. It also was tossed. The third time, I opened the package and was grossed out by all the water and pressing and preparation and after it was cooked in a turmeric tofu scramble, I didn’t like it. Turns out I only like turmeric in tea, not on my food.
Veggie people will swear up and down certain things are DELISH if they are prepared correctly. Nutritional yeast, for example. Peeps love to put that crap on everything. I use it in exactly 1 recipe and I only use half of what’s called for. I eventually stopped purchasing, and then dumping, tofu. I continued reading and learning about plant based recipes and tried different dishes – some great, a few not so.
Tofu often flitted across the screen as I perused recipe possibilities online. Some more appealing than others. My daughter and I would try different preparations, each a slight improvement over the last. Even got my meat-eater husband eating tofu eventually! It seemed that freezing the block (always extra firm – get outta here with that silken and soft nonsense!) and then boiling the frozen brick for 10 min was our fam’s fave version. We diced it up, sautéed, and the little pieces soaked up the yummy flavors of our stir fry or teriyaki marinade. Yahoo! WINNER WINNER TOFU DINNER!
Hannah brought me a recipe for tofu bacon last week. Internally rolling my eyes, I assumed this would be much like other versions of things masquerading as bacon. Bacon is bacon. When I ate meat, I enjoyed it, but I do not really miss it. It’s salty fat. I can live without the heart disease and type 2 diabetes and animal cruelty. I did do some air-fried carrots sliced thin and marinaded as bacon. Not bad, but the payoff didn’t outweigh the prep. With a bazillion other yummy things to taste, I stopped making foods trying to be other foods.
Scanning the recipe, the marinade actually looked promising. There were a couple of things I wouldn’t use generally, but thought the basics and the technique could work! It did call for “Super Firm” tofu. Hmmmm. In 7 years, this is the first time I’d seen “super firm” as a category for tofu. WHAT?!?! Popped to the grocery and found that in fact, I am blind and it’s been there the whole time. Prepressed, ready to use, and SUPER FIRM! (Have I mentioned that I do not like slimy/squishy or mushy textures? Honestly it’s a miracle tofu even stood a chance in my kitchen.)
We gave it a shot. After 3 attempts and tweaking I think I have found my most favorite tofu preparation yet! Because I am over food acting as something it’s not, I present to you: Smoky Marinated Tofu!
Mix all ingredients in a bowl except for the tofu. Whisk until smooth. Slice extra firm tofu into thin strips. A mandolin works, but I find the last pieces get crumbly so I prefer to use my sharp kitchen knife. Place tofu into marinade to coat.
Lay marinated tofu slices on a parchment lined baking sheet. Any add’l marinade can be spread over tofu using a basting brush.
Messy good fun!
Bake in a preheated 375 degree oven for 25 min. Flip slices and cook for another 15-25 min, checking every 10 min or so for desired crispness. Blackened edges indicate it’s time to take them out. If they aren’t super crispy at this point, don’t worry – they continue crisping up as they cool!
Chop up and serve over salads or in a smoky tofu, lettuce, avocado and tomato sandwich! Enjoy!
“Mom, I think we are weird. Like we are a weird family,” my daughter declared to me in the car on the way home from school. Laughing, I asked for clarification. She went on to explain that her friends’ anecdotes of their life at home and relationships with their parents were not the same as ours. I smiled, and nodded, agreeing that we seem to be odd, or minimally different. “To each their own,” I mused as I made our way home, listening to her explain bits of conversations she’d had as they all compared family notes.
“They don’t joke with their parents. Like at all,” she marveled. “How do you not have a sense of humor? Farts at the very least are funny!” I laughed. Bodily humor for the win! We are raising these humans with the hope that they will be people we actually WANT to hang with as adults. Isn’t that the goal? Do we have parenting goals? I don’t know if other parents analyze their parenting in the way we do. Maybe it’s a generational thing, or just a quirky me thing, but evaluations of my role as a parent are ongoing. Probably for life.
There are no real manuals for parenting. Of the parenting how-to books I’ve read (and I’ve read a few) half of them I’ve wanted to chuck into the nearest dumpster. Lots of experts claiming knowledge and degrees and the latest parenting theories, much of which didn’t make sense to me. The only thing I am an expert on is what works in my family, what didn’t work, and what felt the most peaceful and joyful in the long run. Every parent and child pair is different. As of this moment, my kids are 14 and about to be 16. (Parents of older kids, feel free to laugh!) There are things we’ve yet to navigate, but here’s what I know so far.
As our kids have made friends and we meet other families, many people don’t seem to like their kids very much. Conversations with other moms will typically enter into a comparison, (much like that of my daughter’s) an airing of “dumb things spouses/kids do” or “humble brag of kids’ achievements”. Sure, most love their kids, but seem caught in the details of undesirable choices/behavior, that then translates into talking them down, saying things they would never say to their faces in the same way. I’m not talking bout family stories where boneheaded things have been done that we all laugh about now….this kind of chatter goes deeper. It’s in the cutting remarks. There can be a palpable bitterness. It makes me think of words overheard in the grocery store; the angry tone and outright threats when a kid say, throws a tantrum. Do we like our kids as people? Or do we just simply get mad at them because they aren’t behaving in ways we would like and feel out of control or embarrassed by their behavior or choices?
Trying to control a toddler is like herding cats. Anyone that has had toddlers under their care knows this to their core. As parents and caregivers of toddlers, we act more like the bumpers in a bowling lane, guiding the slowly rolling ball to its destination. Hopefully, we can successfully get the small child to the next bed time without injury or maiming of any family pets. Behavior is not the most important thing. The relationship is. Relationship > behavior every single time. Behavior is the result, good or bad. If a kid is throwing a tantrum, are they tired? hungry? having a bad day? The behavior is simply the result of an underlying situation.
What if when we have a bad day, are hungry, and something angered us at work, we threw a tantrum? On the way home we drove angrily, cutting people off. What if as we arrive at home our spouse lights into us, yelling at us to stop throwing our tantrum, grabbed us by the arm and hit us? Would that dissapate our anger? Would that help us not to feel frustrated at work, or less hungry? Or would we no longer trust the person that is supposed to love and care for us? Kids are the same. Their hunger, their tiredness, their frustrations are just as real to them, as the adult things are to us.
Doesn’t a focus on relationship lead to permissive parenting? Won’t the kid be a spoiled brat? I don’t think so. Prioritizing our relationship doesn’t mean there aren’t consequences to behavior. It’s just a shift in focus. Have my kids thrown tantrums? Of course. Did I hit them? Nope. If they were hungry, I fed them. Sometimes it meant I shopped later, and we attended to the most pressing need at the time. Was it always perfect? Not a chance. Was I frustrated in those instances? Without a doubt.
A focus on natural consequences seems kinder and more realistic. (Knock on wood, but it seems to be working so far.) Later, that looks like letting things play out instead of rescuing kids from their mistakes. That means we don’t call the teacher when a grade is given that the kid complains about, pleading the kids’ case for them. It means we don’t yank the kid off the team if a critical word is spoken to our little sweetie. What happens when we forget our lunch as an adult? We have to eat out or go home for the forgotten lunch. My kids have forgotten their lunch before. It sucked. they had to eat hot lunch. It was gross to them and they didn’t like it, but it was a natural consequence that played out. It wasn’t punitive and they didn’t get a lecture on how they were bad for forgetting their lunch. Stuff happens. If I had time, I could run the lunch over, but that wasn’t always the case. While living at home, they get to see how we react when life gets life-y, and more importantly, practice now how to manage their reactions in their own life.
Reacting to a kids’ report card by berating them, handing out punitive declarations that ‘the phone will be taken away until this grade is improved’ (or other such unrelated punishment) does nothing to empower the kid to try harder. It enrages and frustrates. It certainly doesn’t foster a love of learning. It damages the relationship providing one more example of how the parent is reactive instead of proactive. Further, it creates a negative association with school and learning and ultimately a distance in the relationship. We do not pay our kids for grades. There are no rewards for a job well done, or punishments for “bad” grades. The grades are the result of the work done or not done. The grade is the natural consequence. Our philosophy on this is simple in that we take the long view: We want our kids to be life long learners and critical thinkers. From the time they could understand averages, we taught both how to compute their grades. The teacher isn’t just handing out grades subjectively. We explained how it was all in their control. This planted the seed that they had some responsibility for their own education. They had ownership over their work. To this day, both of our kids love to learn. They are avid readers. They get mostly As. This is not to brag, but simply to illustrate that when a student is intrinsically motivated, the grades will naturally flow out of that. Of course learning disabilities and other factors may come into the equation. Learning is a process. Sometimes a really hard-earned C feels better than an easy A. Ultimately, their worth and their place in our family as loved and lovable is not determined by their school grades. We learn because we like to know things.
My daughter was asked to lie for a *friend* in the event that her parents questioned her about some candy found in her backpack. This kid had a hidden stash of candy in her PE locker because she wasn’t allowed to have candy. Apparently ever. This is one example of many from this particular person. She had expressed frustration at her parents’ rules around clothing, food, friends, etc. She lied to her parents about all manner of innocuous things, to stay out of trouble. If our kids will sneak around about some candy, what happens when the really scary stuff happens? Don’t we want them to come to us? What if they are in a situation that needs someone with a fully-formed prefrontal cortex to intervene? If the kid can’t trust the parent with the smallest of things without fear of reprisal, they won’t trust us with the major life impactors either. Overly strict parents will naturally breed sneaky kids.
If a kid isn’t afraid to be themselves, home is a safe space to land. Home is where you should be able to exhale, leaving the heavy hardness of the school day/workday behind. That “exhaling” of the day – looks in practice like the ability to be vulnerable, to be themselves in our presence. To have a different view on things than we do – but also to be able to express it. How can our kids communicate with us if all they are met with is criticism? How would we feel if our boss treated us they way we treat our kids? How would we feel if our spouse talked to us the way we talk to our kids/teens?
The bumper analogy of toddlerhood persists in earnest in teen land, though instead of yanking the cat’s tail or sticking a finger into an outlet, its navigating social situations, extra curricular activities, friendship foibles and budding romances. Here’s the rub though – we control none of it. Kids are fully formed human beings upon arrival. Adults are all basically 17 year olds who have simply been on the planet longer. Viewing our kids through this lens changes things. They are not empty vessels with which we pour our knowledge and experiences into. They are sponges instead. Sponges that have their own structure and framework, but soak up the water (culture/family, etc.) they are placed in. If the “water” they are placed in is support, respect and a healthy relationship, so much the better!
Lamenting of the passage of time is a common refrain that typically grows louder in September and June as school resumes and graduation looms. The cry of not being ready for a given stage/age of development, the shedding of tears as the kid enters high school is baffling to me. (Again, I’m probably the weird one as it is common.) I’m not wired that way. Is it bittersweet to watch as our kids grow? Sure. But isn’t that our job, to daily work ourselves out of being needed, so that our kids can be fully functional and productive adults able to handle themselves? Isn’t that the assignment? Why the surprise at the passage of time? Maybe if we learn to be present in the moment we are in, instead of always wishing for what was, we won’t need to pine away for the days gone by.
None of this works without me being sober. Getting sober and dealing with my stuff is the main thing that has helped me improve in all my relationships, but none more so than as a parent. My kids don’t really remember me drinking, or even drinking to excess as they were still fairly young when I quit. The idea that parenting is something to be “survived” and drinking is the vehicle with which to do so is, frankly, false and a genius marketing strategy. I bought into it, too. The exhaustion of early parenting days in particular can forge beautiful friendships when you’re all in the trenches together. Community is vital to us as moms. Add in alcohol to ease those social anxieties and it seems like a genius way for awkward people like me to ease into that engagement.
When that ‘wine at the park meet up’ migrates to child-centered places in a wider cultural context (Hello drinks at DisneyLand), it sends a message to our kids whether we intend it or not. Parenthood is something to be endured. It’s a slog and only this elixir will help us make it through. As a kid, you hear that your parent thinks raising you is something to be endured like a chore one dreads. While this may not be the message intended, it’s the one getting through. I never want my kids to not be able to rely on me. Giving up drinking, though not easy, helped me align my values and prevented me from being a hypocrite when I would eventually ask my kids not to drink.
If instead, we view our kids as people that come THROUGH us, as opposed to little reflections OF us, we wouldn’t be shocked to learn that they have differing opinions on any given subject, or the passage of time wouldn’t be so jarring. They are their own people, not our possessions or mini reflections. Kids are not our measuring stick on the perfection scale.
They are their own people.
They are on a journey of their own, in which they are the main character. As parents, we are the extras in this film of their life.
I rode my bike this morning, in a class I’d done previously. I love repeating classes in the Peloton catalog on demand, because it gives tangible evidence of progress. You can literally race your past self up the leaderboard. I find it, along with silly digital badges, incredibly motivating.
I thought about my 2021 self as I pedaled. Where we were living and what day to day life was like just a couple of years ago and how much has changed in a relatively short amount of time. Envisioning our old living room and my mini gym corner, 2021 would be so damn proud and excited about where we are now. She’d kill to be here. I found myself rooting for her, as she trailed up the leaderboard, not quite able to keep up with 2024.
2024 needed to have this moment with 2021. She got us to here. She pedaled, and walked dogs, and lifted weights. She got on the meditation cushion and found some space. She laid some strong foundations.
It’s like there’s all these different versions of ourselves. Past selves we’ve shed and outgrown. And, there are future versions of us that are cheering us on from the road ahead, rooting for us as we make our way. Sometimes the busy of the now gets in the way of hearing the faint echo of that encouragement.
This led me to think about my future self. Where will 2030 me be? 2035? 2040? Maybe because yesterday I completed another trip around the sun or that my 30 year class reunion is coming up – but it definitely had me thinking about looking back, as well as forward. Where will future me be because of what I’m doing for her today? Am I lifting heavy things and doing the push ups and carrying my groceries from the store to the car without the cart? You bet. I want 2040 to be crazy strong. Doing the hard stuff now, so that I can keep doing stuff. Training for life. Training for living. Perhaps 2040 is screaming at the top of her lungs, “KEEP GOING! You are doing AWESOME! I’m SO PROUD of YOU!” I definitely felt that watching 2021 today.
Comparison is the thief of joy, especially in terms of fitness. No sense in comparing where you are today with someone who hasn’t walked in your shoes and vice versa. Gratitude is an effective antidote to comparison. It’s you against you.
PeloFondo is an endurance event where participants pledge to ride x number of miles, then set about doing them over 1 or 2 days of a weekend. There are other events over the year, including a running event as well as a simulated cycling climb. This weekend was PeloFondo.
In 2020 I pledged 30 miles, then changed it to 50 and completed it. Throughout the event I saw many folks with impressive finishing times and incredible mileage counts. 75 miles, 100, 150 and even a couple of 300 milers! Mind. Blowing. Early 2021, I decided to go for it and do the full century ride. 100 miles on a bike that goes no where. No benefit of a downhill coast, no light wind at our back, just slogging miles pedal stroke after pedal stroke.
Not an easy feat at any pace, but I completed what I set out to do. Lots of food breaks and what felt like gallons of hydration along the way. Over the last 3 years, I didn’t attempt the 100 mile mark again being too busy with the kids, schedules, and just knowing how much of an effort it takes to do that – I didn’t have it in me with other training goals…
Until this year!
Planning to ride on Saturday, I grocery shopped Friday and was all set. Hannah came up and showed me the temp complaining that it was hot in the house.
“Why the heck is the A/C not on?” I wondered. Seriously? No AC? During. an. endurance. event?! Because of course gremlins have impeccable timing, not only is this weekend the PeloFondo, it’s also conveniently a weekend where the hubby out of town. Oy! There’s no way I’m riding 100 miles with no A/C. I’m crazy, but I’m not insane.
Texts and messages and putting my googler to work, (among the swear words uttered), we surmise that the drain is likely clogged, but a quick stop gap measure can be done to get the A/C running again, at least long enough to get us through the weekend when a tech can come out to assess the situation and get it fixed.
This “quick” stop gap requires an adventure into the hot sweaty attic (where I just know that the bugs and spiders are all waiting for me), to investigate the drip pan, and if it is full of water, use the shop vac to hose it out.
Being a semi-mechanically inclined person, what I don’t know, I can usually work out with a YouTube how-to video. I fight with this ladder to get it in place. (It’s awesome once its set up, but it is a pain to jostle and extend up). Oh, and I hate heights. Going up isn’t usually the issue – it’s the coming back down that makes my legs shake involuntarily. The kids were troopers and helped me by handing up our large shop vac, plugging it in and hollering, “You got this Mom!” as I complained about fiberglass cuts in my hand. I was itchy all over, but was pleasantly surprised to find NO bugs in sight! There was even a light switch to make my adventure more visible. I sucked all the water out and we all heard the A/C kick back on! Relief washed over as I made my way to the ceiling access to then hand down the shop vac full of water to the kids’ waiting hands.
“Oh mom! Mom! MOM! Stop!” I peer around the vacuum I’m barely holding on to while balancing on the ladder to see water splashing all over my closet floor.
“ARRRRGGHHH….” I heave it back into the attic to reassess my extraction plan. Hannah runs to get towels to lay on the floor. Beyond tired and frustrated, I turn the shop vac around so the hose entry point will face upward as I lean it back and down, thus eliminating the leak. Arms extended upward, they once again grabbed on and were able to successfully bring it down with minimal spillage! Whew!
Replacing the access panel, then wrestling the ladder we put all the stuff back into the garage. “Team work makes the dream work!” I hollered as I rejoiced in front of the vent, now happily blowing cool air again. The kids laughed at me as they do. I resumed putting away the groceries and food prepping. All is well when I’m not hot and sweating!
After the kids’ activities Saturday morning, a hearty breakfast onboard, and coffee consumed, 4 additional sets of clothes were laid out in preperation as I knew that the sweat would be pouring in no time.
Ate a PB and J and was feeling pretty cute and excited about how it was going! Even snagged a PR on the first ride! “This will be hard, but feeling this good – maybe it won’t be as arduous as I remember….”
2nd ride in….let my hair down and kept pedaling. Energized by fellow Fondo high fives, the initial 20 miles flew by fairly quickly. Great class playlists helped!
Made it just over the half way point and realized how arrogant I was at mile 2. Thank goodness for multiple pairs of padded bib shorts – something I did not have during my first attempt at this mileage.
Cheering teammates’ efforts, grabbing snacks, refilling water bottles, letting the dogs in and out broke up the day. Many stretch breaks ensued as the miles wore on.
“Ugh. I’ve over half way there…I can’t stop now,” I complained to myself.
“You pledged the mileage,” I replied.
” Why did I have to go and tell people I was gonna ride this in one day? I should have broken up the mileage into both days.”
“Do you really want to ride both days?”
“No…..”
“So just do the damn thing and get it done.”
“Fine,” I huffed as I stormed off to change. I can be so pushy sometimes.
The universe had other plans in mind, however…
“It’s hot in here again!!!” my daughter hollered shoving her phone in my face with photographic evidence of he thermostat giving error codes. Pedaling and trying not to die while she talked it dawned on me that it was in fact warmer in the house. I had mentally chalked it up to being delirious and sweat soaked at mile 76. There’s no way this can be happening again…..
Pausing the ride, I muttered, “No, no, no….not again!”
“Maybe it’s the thermostat itself,” I grumbled to myself hoping against hope that I do not in fact have to lug that dang ladder back in and haul that awkward shop-vac up to the attic. I charged it up for a few minutes and eek out the rest of the class I had paused. I got to mile 86. Crossing fingers unfortunately didn’t work. Charging the thermostat wasn’t the issue.
Hannah strained around the corner with the heavy ladder careful not to hit the walls along the way. My shoulders slumped in defeat. A trip back up to the attic was going to happen whether I wanted to do it or not. Only this time I was beyond tired. I had been pedaling all day and still had almost 15 miles to go.
Up I trudged, while the kids assumed their duties of moral support and hander uppers/take downers. I vacuumed out the pan full of water again. Only this time the shop vac was too full to hand down. Sprinting into action, one kid grabbed the car wash bucket and the other grabbed a plastic cup. Standing on the ladder, I scooped out A/C drain water from the shop vac to the bucket and handed it down to the kids to dump. We did this 5 or 6 times until the shop vac was light enough to hand down. Whew. We did it again! Yay us! Collapsing the ladder, scooping up towels, we put it all away. A/C blowing cold once again.
I walked over to my bike. This machine that I love, but at that moment, not sure if I even liked it. “You’ve done 86 miles. you can do the 14 and change you need to finish this,” I encouraged myself.
“You can do it,” Hannah said. “Think how good that shower is going to feel when you’re done,” she challenged, grinning. She knows me well. I climbed back on. I lined up 3 classes that have been bookmarked for a while. No longer feeling cute, or hungry. Just tired. It’s time to be done. I pressed play.
The goal in mind was simply to hit 100 miles and beat the 2021 time. I did it! Sweat, fiberglass insulation, grit, dust and dirt all over me, I finished up stretching and hobbled myself to the shower.
It was one of the best showers of my life, full stop.
I don’t think I will be attempting to do century rides again anytime soon. This human machine needs some rest! (And all the food!)
The days are long but the years are short as they say, and the cliche rings true. Hard to believe there’s enough one day at a times strung together to add up to 7 whole years, but here we are.
Over these 7 years I’m more comfortable in my skin than ever before. Saying no to things I do not want to do, do not have time for, or even prioritizing time for fitness and eating well is easier with well-defined boundaries. Letting go of friends not on the same page sucked early on, but in the long run – totally worth it. Generally not caring what other people think or what their expectations may be is so freeing. Other people’s opinions are not my business. Saying buh-bye to alcohol enabled that freedom over time.
Looking down the last week of the academic year, one 8th grade promotion ceremony away from having both in high school is wild to think about. Being able to savor the milestones and be grounded through bumps along the way is a gift I’ve been able to give the kids, as well as myself. Zero regrets in being fully present for all of it. As they gain increasing independence, there’s nothing but overwhelming gratitude for the ability to be authentic and practice what I preach. Teenagers are great bull$!@t detectors and they have no qualms about calling us out on our hypocrisy. “Do as I say, not as I do” doesn’t fly here.
Like most relationships, the one I have with sobriety has morphed and changed over time. It’s acuteness has faded, I don’t really have dreams where I’ve drank and wake up horrified or guilt ridden. I no longer cringe and speed up as I walk by the alcohol aisle at the grocery store. It’s a non-issue. I just don’t drink. It’s a looking forward instead of back to what was.
Life and Other Stuff 