Pure Michigan

I don't know how many people have actually seen the "Pure Michigan" ad campaign, but this vacation is turning out to read like the story-board from those commercials. Seriously, I've had more than a few moments this past week when I've felt like I've stepped into the television and found my way into a cinematographic imagining of what a vacation in Michigan should look like. It's been amazing. First, the triathlon. Then, camping along the lakeshore in Warren Dunes, lazing on the beach during the day and gathering around the campfire at night. Now we're in the central portion of the state, golfing and hanging out with friends and family on sun-basked patios. The weather has been perfect. The white wine has been crisp and chilled to perfection. The microbrews (i.e. Bell's) have lived up to my memories. I've climbed sand dunes and caught fire-flies. Mouse reeled in his first big fish. I made s'mores with my nephews. I even baked a knock-out blueberry cobbler with local, Michigan blueberries last night. (Thanks, Bon Appetite, for the recipe.) I know this all sounds so mundane, especially when juxtaposed against our usual adventurous escapades, but I think we were due for a little boring. Dull or not, all of this has been a welcome respite from the insanity of this summer.

Now, we only have two days of vacation left. After that, we have a very loooong drive ahead of us; Twenty hours of navigating through the midwest monotony, to be exact. And, while I'm not looking forward to that tortuous drive, I am sooo glad we made the effort to make it out here. We've seen family and friends, the puppy has had a blast, and I've been reminded of how nice it can be to visit my childhood home.  Thanks, Michigan.  See you next time.

The Steelhead Challenge

Whew! I'm not going to lie; I'm really glad THAT (as in the Steelhead 70.3) is over. I love to compete and all, but the half-iron distance is no picnic. I don't care how tough you are, it hurts. So, it didn't come as any surprise when, as per usual, I found myself questioning my sanity (and fitness) around mile 6 of the run. That seems to be the magic number for me in a 70.3. I'm much too deep in to consider just giving up, yet I'm far enough away from the finish line to allow me to envision crossing it. I'm exhausted. My quads ache. My stomach is anything but happy. It never fails; this is my mental wall. Luckily, I always seem to summon enough determination to trust my training and push through it. And this is exactly what I was able to do on Sunday.

All of this being said, Steelhead was a great race. It was a personal best for me, with a finish time of 5:35. The weather was great. The water was calm. It was also a great course, starting on the sandy shores of Lake Michigan, winding through the lushly green countryside, and finishing at the same beach locale. After the Boise debacle, I needed this.

I'm always going to over-analyze my performance, wishing I did this or that differently, but I'm actually pleased with my effort this time. I probably could have taken my training a little more seriously, and could have benefitted from a few more long brick days, but that's all behind me now. What matters most is that I continue to push myself and improve. Steelhead proved to be a prime example of that.

Now that the race is done, my vacation can truly begin. Now, my only concerns are of lying on the beach, soaking up the rays, and what kind of wine I'm having at dinner. Now, I can focus on being on vacation. What a way to wrap up this sumner...

At It Again

Ugh. I definitely drank a bit too much wine last night. That was puh-robably not the best pre-race prep, but what's a girl to do when offered a glass of luscious Stag's Leap cab at dinner? I didn't want to be rude, after all. The same goes for the second and third glasses, as well. (I know, I know. I'm such a lush!) It was a good night with good friends we don't see often enough, though, so I don't regret one single drop of wine consumed. Oh well. Maybe I should be taking this race more seriously...

So now we're back on the road, heading from the 'burbs of Chicago to the shores of Benton Harbor. I'm downing Gatorade like a fish out of water, in my best attempt to rehydrate and atone for last night's sins. The Steelhead 70.3 will come early enough tomorrow morning, and I need to be ready to punish my body for a few hours or so.

It doesn't matter how often I do these triathlons, I never feel ready. No matter how much time and effort I've put into my training; it just never seems enough. I always feel like I should have done just one more swim, or one more brick. But there's no more time for training, so I guess I should stop my worrying. Now I need to rely upon the hope that I DID train enough, and that my body IS ready for this. At least this race is at sea-level...

In an hour or so, I'll be checking in, getting my body marked, and getting my gear all set up. Maybe then my confidence will kick in. A girl can dream!

The Long Road Home

And we're on the road again. This trip is not going to be nearly as epic or picturesque as our June road-trip to Grand Teton and Yellowstone, but it is a trip, nonetheless; A chance to be on the open road. At the moment, we're somewhere in the middle of Nebraska, where the most exciting thing we've seen is a lemon-yellow, single-prop, airplane crop-dusting a field along our route. (Yeah - it's that exciting.) We're hoping to make it to Des Moines tonight, and then on to Chicago tomorrow. Our final destination is the shores of Lake Michigan, on the Michigan side, where I'll be competing in the Steelhead 70.3 this Sunday. After that, some camping on the lakeshore with the fam, then off to a golf outing with Mouse's clan.

It's going to be a busy and exhausting vacation, but it should also be a load of fun. After more than a decade away, I miss my Michigan summers. I miss playing in the waves of the Great Lakes, with the sand between my toes. I miss climbing the sand dunes and catching fireflies at dusk. I miss all of those things that make a childhood memorable and magical. So, with a little luck and some good weather, I'll be able to relive a few of those small moments, and share them with my husband.

After this nonstop summer, I'm ready for all of this, plus some good, old-fashioned R&R. I'm ready to laze on the beach. I'm ready to savor an Oberon and worry about nothing more than what we're going to BBQ for dinner. I'm ready to sit around the campfire, sip wine, and just plain chill. I really can't think of a better way to spend these last days of summer.

Now, we just have to get through this grueling drive...

Home At Last

It just occurred to me the other night that we arrived back in Denver exactly five years to the day I initially moved away.  FIVE YEARS!  It doesn't seem possible.  I still remember the weeks and days leading up to that move like they were yesterday.  It was to be the beginning of an entirely new life, which was terrifying and exciting all at the same time.  I was a new grad and newly in love, making me idealistic in a way that only such an all-encompassing newbie can be.  Looking back, I should have had an inkling Las Vegas probably wasn't the best place to begin a career in nursing, or a new relationship.  The fast-paced, instant-gratification, check-your-common-sense-at-the-door culture that abounds there doesn't do much to foster either.  But I was naive and determined, so I dove right in and gave it my best shot.  Those early days were rough, both for our relationship and my career, but I (and we) survived.  Now, after years of living like a gypsy, I've returned to the city I love, the place where my adulthood began, and life has come back full circle.  Well, sort of.

As excited as I am to be back, things just aren't the same.  This isn't exactly the same city I left, and I'm certainly not exactly the same person I was so many years ago.  Favorite restaurants have closed, with new ones springing up in their place.  My old nursing school abandoned for a new campus east of the city (tear!); its windows boarded, the dilapidated, deserted buildings just waiting to be demolished.  There have been marriages and divorces.  Babies have been born.  Houses have been bought and sold.  Careers have blossomed.  Friendships have evolved and sometimes faded, with new ones to take their place.

And me, well... I'm no longer a scared new grad, but a somewhat seasoned nurse.  I've become tougher (and possibly more jaded) than I ever thought possible.  I'm no longer a single twenty-something, playing the dating game, either.  Now I'm a thirty-something married lady, with a fur-baby in tow.  I'm definitely older, possibly a little wiser (I hope), and most certainly more settled in myself and my life.

But just because this isn't the same Denver, and I'm not the same girl who left this city so many years ago, doesn't mean that I'm not excited to be back.  Because, let's face it, I'm ecstatic.  I'm happy to be back in a real city, where everything is so alive.  I'm happy to be back in a place that boasts such an amazing restaurant and bar scene.  I can't help but smile every time I catch a glimpse of the mountains, and am  downright euphoric with the knowledge that all of my favorite outdoor activities are a short car-ride away.  I love the trees.  I love the green.  I love being able to catch up with all of my friends, old and new.  It's true that this is not entirely the same city I left, but Denver is home to me, and I couldn't be happier to be back.

Perfectly Boring

Ahhh... It's been a long time since I've experienced the luxury of feeling "at home", but I think I finally hit the jackpot this past weekend. Yes, we've been in our new digs for over a month now, but this was the first time in an incredibly long while, that I've actually felt settled. I have to admit, it felt nice.

This was the first weekend we had time to laze around and do whatever we wanted. No parties. No out-of-town weddings. No obligations of any sort. This weekend was all about us.

So what did we do with a weekend to call our own? Nothing much. After maintaining such a hectic pace for the past few months, we were craving low-key. And we got our wish. Friday evening Happy Hour at Pasquinis. Sushi at Sushi Tazu. (Sadly, not my fave.) Cherry Creek Farmer's Market. A bottle of chilled, crisp Pinot Grigio while watching the Olympics. Pearl Street Farmer's Market. Puppy's first excursion to Wash Park. And what weekend would be complete these days without a little home-improvement thrown into the mix for good measure? Mundane? Yes. Nonetheless, these were the makings of my perfect weekend.

Maybe I'm going soft. Or maybe the insanity of this summer has finally worn me down. A few months ago, this probably would have equaled the most blasé weekend ever. But now, I'm grateful for the downtime. Everything about it was pure, borderline boring bliss. Whatever. I'm just thankful we finally found time to chill.

It's Good to be Back... I Think.

Oh. OK. So that's how it feels to work full time.  After eight weeks off, I'd nearly forgotten.  And, even though this was probably the easiest week of my nursing career, I'm absolutely exhausted.  After three seemingly endless nights on my feet, I'm dog tired.  (My eyelids are drooping as I'm trying to finish this entry.)  Let's face it, all this R&R has made me soft.  I can't even imagine attempting to pull a fourth shift right now.  At this point,  I want nothing more than to crawl into bed, pull the covers over my head, and shut the world out.  If Mouse would let me, I would gladly sleep the entire weekend away.  I'm sure the majority of said fatigue is simply related to the drastic change in my schedule, as my body is no longer accustomed to pulling all-nighters.  But my drawn-out vacation is a thing of the past, so I suppose it's time to reacquaint myself with the physical punishment inherent to working nights.  (Which is still far more attractive than the thought of getting up early enough to work the day shift.) 

All whining aside, it's good to be back.  It's nice to get out of the house, feel productive, and meet new people.  So far, all of my prior qualms and nerves have proven to be unfounded.  Sure, there are new things to learn, but getting back on the floor is kind of like riding a bike.  I may be a little shaky at the get-go, but it isn't taking long to find my rhythm.  Soon enough, I'll be back to my old self.  But first, I need to take a very, very long nap.