Little J's Triathlon

Little J had his first triathlon this week. The 8 year old's version of short course consisted of a 100m swim, 5km bike and a 1km run.

The week before the race his procrastination subsided, and he started to get into the zone. "Dad, when can we practice transition!" was the echo heard throughout the house all week. Coming out of the shower "Dad, can I practice getting changed?". Finishing dinner, "Dad, can I go practice a quick transition!?", and then he would lay out his transition gear, and do a quick practice in the living room. After several virtual trials the one thing he decided was what not to do. "No socks! That saved me almost a minute!" While we applauded his effort to practice transitions the one - or rather three - things he did not practice was any actual swimming, biking or running. This meant while his race was bound to be slow, his transitions would likely be blazing fast!

Race day arrived, and he was up and ready to go the fastest we had ever seen him get out of bed and get changed. I was making my breakfast in the kitchen to fuel up for my long day of waiting when he plopped down. "I'm having some cereal for breakfast. Some Vector! Because that is what bikers eat!" The rest of the morning consisted of reminding him to get things ready, as he was so excited he kept forgetting things like "put water in your water bottle!".

The race times were set to have the different age groups go in waves, over a 3 hour period. Little J was excited about this as he was able to get there early and watch some of the older racers do the swim and transition. While we watched the other kids we went through his race plan, where to exit the swim and which way to run to the transition, and the route to get in and out of the transition area. All throughout it he kept asking things that implied he was going to be so lightening fast, people would be in awe. "So dad, what happens when I am riding in first, and I don't know where to go?". All I kept thinking was "I wonder if he'll dropout when he gets passed in the pool in the first lap and realizes he won't be near first place?"


Finally the time to race arrived and I offered him one more piece of advice. "J, before you go to the race do you have to go to the bathroom?" His reply was as anticipated: "Nooooo!" Knowing what was about to happen next, I tried to steer him towards the inevitable and tried to coax him with a "Ok, so go try anyway.". Not surprisingly I was rebuffed and he took off towards the pool deck for the briefing.

The next scene was classic Little J: Imagine a cluster of 20 kids, all getting ready to race and one line disinter realizes he has to depart the crowd and head for the bathroom. "Is that my child?" I think, only to confirm a second later that sure enough, it was. While all 19 kids went one way to line up for their swim, one headed in the opposite direction to the bathroom. It was at that moment I made a mental note to share with him the age old tradition of peeing while racing.

We had rehearsed his race plan a few times, and all of them ending with "Do a swim warmup, but only about 10-20 meters!". I was foolish enough to think he would heed my advice, and we all watched from the stands as he did a 100m warmup, about 2 minutes before the race was set to start.

Right before the race start, I took a mental note of what Little J's mental status was:

I had said to do a 10 meter warmup. He did 100.

He kept asking what would happen if he was in front but didn't know where to go.

He kept forgetting to do fairly important things, like pack his helmet and full water bottle.

He decided to make a break for the bathroom, 5 minutes before the race start.

This was going to be an epic something of a race, with the something to be determined in the next 30 minutes.


The gun went off, and like a shot he pushed off and proceeded to swim the fastest front crawl I had ever seen him do. Unfortunately for Little J his burst of speed only lasted for about 20 meters, then he dropped off and was passed by another racer. He must have decided to mix it up because at that point he floated over and switched to a leisurely backstroke pace for the remaining 80 meters. He finished the swim, and made a quick exit to his transition area, which he had strategically positioned by a tree so he could find it when he came out.

All the practicing of drying off and sitting down to get his shoes on seemed to go out the window, because once he hit transition he just wiggled on his shirt over his wet body, and then stood there while trying to stuff his wet, sockless feet into his shoes. Most of the kids seemed focused on transition, a few even ignoring the overbearing parents yelling instructions, but Jordan had a huge grin on his face as he exited on to the run. Two laps of ring-road gave the same picture: Most kids gunning it with a nice even cadence, tongues hanging out like MJ going for a dunk, and glassy eyes focused on the road ahead. Little J on the other hand was merrily biking along like he was out for a ride to the market.




He rode by us heading into the bike to run transition, and was out in under a minute, helmet gone but the same little grin attached to his running face. In fact, he was happily jogging along, only to add in a burst of speed when he was about to be passed by another racer. Like the swim, his burst didn't last long and he soon dropped back to his happy pace. We were all there for his finish, which his final time was 27:24. He came in 22nd, and later announced "I like the number 22, so I'm happy with that".



Like any true triathlete, his next stop was the food table where he devoured about four rice crispy squares and two slices of pizza.

He did have some post-race memorable quotes:

While riding home in the car:

"Maybe we should go back. Someone may want my autograph or something."

While eating a second helping of pasta at dinner that night: "Man, being a triathlete makes me hungry!"

Pretty much for the rest of the day: "Whew! My legs hurt!"

When we asked him why he switched to the backstroke he had two good arguments. "Well, first I am fast at the backstroke. And second, when the other racer passed me I knew I wasn't going to win so I just decided to have fun." We couldn't argue with that.



And with that his first triathlon was done, and he's already asking when the next race is.

Homemade Ravioli

After being away for a week of travel Haley wanted to have some time with her dad so we decided to make some homemade ravioli together. She was pretty excited to be up on the counter mixing the ingredients.

To make it more colorful (and to use up some ingredients we had in the fridge) we made two batches, one Butternut Squash and the other Spinach & Cheese. The first make-work project for Haley was to pull off all the stems on the spinach and dice it up. Measuring in the cheese and other filling mixtures also provided a lesson in me about the attention span of a 6 year old cooking. I explained some of the measuring to her before she was to start.

"Haley, you need to put in 1/2 cup of this grated cheese. This measuring cup is 1/4 cup, so put two in"

Turning away to get the other batch of filling ready was my mistake. Even if I was only looking away about 10 seconds she managed to scoop in who knows how much of the cheese. I peered into the bowl, it now brimming with more grated cheese than I thought we even had in the house. "So Haley, how many scoops did you put in?". She postulated for a bit, then finally announced what she had done. "Mmm. One, but maybe two or even three. I don't remember."

The amount of scoops she put in was of no matter to her, only the fact that she was the one that got to do it. As a result this may end up being "Spinach with some Cheese Ravioli", or "Lots of Cheese with Little Spinach Ravioli".

Here was the filling recipe we used for the fillings:


Butternut Squash, Sage, and Cheese Ravioli:

a 2-pound butternut squash, baked and mashed.

1 medium onion, chopped (about 1 1/2 cups)

1 1/2 teaspoons ground sage

pinch of ground nutmeg

1 tablespoon unsalted butter

1 garlic clove, minced

2/3 cup ricotta cheese (or other)

Cheese Ravioli Filling:

1 cup ounce container ricotta cheese

1/2 cup ounce mozzarella cheese, shredded

1/4 cup Parmesan cheese, grated

1 egg

1 cup fresh spinach, chopped

Pinch of nutmeg

Salt and pepper


The butternut squash was a different story, as I "helped" out more closely and we got the proportions right. She dutifully mashed and measured the filling, all the time loudly proclaiming that she was only there to help mix but wouldn't eat any "mashed orange stuff", regardless of the culinary feast that awaited her.

While that was going on I made up some fresh pasta and rolled it out into strips, and Haley helped spread out the filling. Finally, after 2 hours of mixing filling, shaping pasta we were ready make the pockets of goodness using a ravioli roller:

Haley helped roll out the ravioli and cut them into the final squares. A light dusting of flour later we now had a heaping bowl of fresh pasta waiting for our dinner.

And in true 6 year hold fashion when it was all done and finished she looked at it and pouted "Chef Boyardee would have been better". Little J was too busy playing Wii to come for dinner and LP-ette was too busy reading to also attend.

So I did what any other aspiring weekend chef would do - had some fresh ravioli on my own and then went to bed.

A colored set

Jordan was so excited today when we stopped at the store to pickup some new deck chairs for the house.

"Can I pick the colors?" is all I heard.... I agreed and after much deliberation about what mom would like the best, this is what he picked for me to bring home:




If his mom is impressed as much as he is excited, this is going to be awesome.

Put those on your hummock and smoke it....

Kids notes this week:

Haley on Pizza: "I don't' want black circles, just ham & Pizza." "You mean olives?" "Yeah,
black circles!"

Jordan on skating: "You just put on your skates & walk!"


Ohh, they have so much to learn....

The Placebo Effect in Alcohol

She giggled a little. Softly. Like she was getting away with something wickedly secret.

"Well, how about it?" I offered. I set my wine glass down and reached for a clean one. "I'll pour you some. You seem old enough." She paused, tilted her head and giggled a little more, only this time with her fingers pressed over her lips, and the sounds starting to rumble from deep in her gut.

The wide eyes of two women sat across from me. One, LP-ette, a bond formed by a twenty-eight year friendship (with some marriage at the end). The other, LittleH, our 5 year old daughter. Both couldn't believe I was doing this, but for very different reasons. To the sound of more excited giggling and snickering I pushed my chair back and walked over to the wine bottle, preparing to pour another glass for LittleH. More giggles, with some snorts added in for effect. At five years old it was as if Santa had arrived again: Mom and Dad were inviting me to be adults with them and drink some wine at dinner!

"Are you sure?" I called over my shoulder.

With another resounding bout of giggling as my reply, I took it as an affirmative reply. With my back turned reached behind the wine bottle and picked up another batch of liquid to share - only instead of wine she was getting the next best thing for a 5 year old: cranberry juice I had at the back of the counter.

Returning to the table LP-ette glanced over at the 2 glasses, immediately knowing what was up, decided to play along. LP-ette looked at me rather disapprovingly and shook her head. "Whoooh Daddy. I can't believe you're doing this. Not that she isn't getting old enough, of course," she added with a smile to LittleH while she grabbed hold of the glass.

It was as if time froze with the aura of breathless anticipation in the air. Punctuated by yet another round of giggles she raised the glass up to her lips, hardly able to contain herself. She paused, the oversize glass trembling in her little hands. "Daaadddd," she drawled, "I can't drink this!" It was as though reason had finally grabbed hold of her, the wafting placebo scent of wine swirling below her nose.

"Why not?" we asked in unison, glancing around to see if there were others around; Riley jumped up, sensing something was amiss, and trotted over. With 3 faces looking at her she broke into full on laughter, point at her mom and I. "Because, you know. Wine makes you...makes you....OLD!" With that reply it was now our turn to break out into laughter.

It took a few tires but she finally suppressed the giggling enough to have a sip. As the liquid hit her lips her eyes grew like saucers. "Hey! This is good!" And just as quickly as she had clamored to join in with a glass of wine, she went from sips to draining the entire glass in about 3 gulps. Looking mighty satisfied she smacked her lips. "Mmmmmm...you know what guys? That tasted like water and grapes!"

Epilogue: After she was finished we did tell her what was in the glass. She was a mixture of disappointed and relieved that she had not drunk any wine so "she wouldn't get any older like you guys!". What she did seem most impressed about was that she was able to drink out of an adult glass for the dinner hour. It was as almost as her karma was chanting "Small wins, LittleH! Be thankful for small wins!"

The Bird is Asleep....

A post from my notebook... a few months old....

"It's dead! It's dead" he cried, running down the stairs.

I looked up to see Jordan heading down the stairs, full tilt. "What?"

He arrived breathlessly, bursting to tell the news. "A bird. It flew into the window!" His hands animated his sounds as he yelled kabash! to punctuate his point. "And guess what, mom said YOU have to deal with it."

I groaned. "How come when it's something dead, I get to deal with it. But when it's something like, someone came to the door and dropped off chocolates, SHE gets to deal with it. Go ask here that."

A few hours later I got round to my task, but upon reaching the "dead bird zone" I found nothing. No alive bird. No dead bird. No bird at all. Not even a feather to suggest one had been here, and managed to break it's neck on the window yet fly away unscathed.

I wandered back downstairs and found the kids. "Hey guys, are you sure there was a bird upstairs? I looked but didn't find any."

Haley jumped up. "I know! I know!" she squealed. "It was on my deck sleeping, but I tucked it in for an afternoon nap." She took my by the hand and lead me up stairs to her room. Sure enough, I looked under her covers and placed gently on her princess pillow was a "sleeping" bird.
"He'll wake up soon, right dad?"

"hmmmm, yeah. I'll wake him up and set him to fly out the window while you go downstairs and ask mom if there is some chocolate around you two can go eat together."

Moral of the story: Sleeping birds may lie, unless you have children in the house. Otherwise they lie in their bed, waiting to be woken up.

Pink Haley

Haley, who is sick with the stomach flu, came in to the kitchen holding the Pepto Bismol. She wanted more so when she threw up again it would be a "pretty pink".

Even in sickness she if fashion conscious.

A Blue Haley

It was breakfast time, with some help from the kids. Or so we thought.

"Haley, can you set the table?" we asked, merely hoping for the placemats to be put out.

But not today. She was efficient. Not only did she get the placemats out, but also her plate. Without us knowing, she also managed to sneak the box of blueberries over to the table. By the time we looked over Haley had managed to open the blueberry container and put a heaping pile of blueberries on her plate.

“Haley! I just bought those! They were for muffins I was going to make today. Do you know how much they cost?”

Her reply was quick, and amazingly accurate: “Yes. Like sixteen dollars.”

“That’s about right.”

A Green Jordan

“Dad, how much money do you have?”

“About $2000”

“No… that’s impossible. Nobody has that much. Maybe like $200, but that’s all you probably have.”

Day 8 of my 40 day Marathon Training....

It has been 8 days since I decided to see if I can do a Marathon in 40 days. I have managed 4 runs and 1 bike, with my long one at about 16k. Looking at my past marathon schedules I was supposed to be doing a 30k run. I think my legs were happy I did the 16k.

This week I've got 2 short runs, 1 bike (for cross-training) and then shoot for a 20k next weekend.

For my alternate cross-training exercise I put up 550' of moulding in our new addition. As I was cutting and nailing up the moulding, I accidentally cut one too short, and had already nailed it up.

"Awww, Mother f..., I mean shoot!" I exclaimed, as I looked down from the ladder to see Little LP standing under me.

"Dad..." he drawled. "You said a bad word."

"What did I say?"

"You said 'shoot'. And that's bad. Unless you meant to say para-shoot!"