Woodstock Duathlon Race Report

HOLY FUCKING CRAP! I won my AG today. I was classed in 60-69, but I thought the skinny chic in the picture above would beat me. Nope! Not only did I win, but I was 2 1/2 minutes faster than I did 2 years ago, and I am training harder than I was 2 years ago, and well, I am just amazed that this is happening! Of course, I didn't taper for this--I'm training for a 50k!

I was trashed on Friday after a bunch o' running. I was supposed to run :40 and bike 1:15. I did the run, and it wasn't bad, but it wasn't at all fast, BUT, I ran all the hills on the route. When I got on the bike, I was like I have ZERO power, so I cut it short to :53.

Yesterday I swam a 5k workout. People think I do long, straight swims. Nope. This was a hard fucking workout: 800 warmup, 1200 race pace 1'RI, 3x600 30"RI at race pace with last 50 sprint, 1200 pull with paddles, 200 cooldown. That workout fucks you up. I did it last week, too, the day before my 1/2 marathon. A 5k swim isn't really a big deal, but when you do those intervals and end with the paddles, it fucking sucks. But I love it!

After I swam, I went grocery shopping and then tried to take a nap but failed. Then I went to my bike club's picnic, and that was fun. When I got home, I did finally take a 1.5 hour nap, which was really good. Except that I was groggy for about 30 minutes after waking up, because that much nap time will do that to you.

I then started thinking about what do I want to wear, etc., and I had my shorts picked out, then I selected a top, but figured I'd leave the rest until this morning. I did switch from the blue Louis Garneau winged aerohelmet to my new white POC, because I figured I could get the white helmet on and off quicker.

I got to sleep early (around 8PM) but kept waking up as is typical before a race. At 2:45, I decided, fuck it, close enough (alarm was set for 4:15), and got up. I mostly spent time on Facebook and tried not to be nervous. I still get nervous before races--I get dry heaves, I pace--all that shit--but it's part of the ritual, so I am happy that I still do it.

At 4:30 I thought I better eat breakfast (I'd already been drinking coffee), and had my usual hard-boiled egg on a toasted English Muffin with some jam. It was tasty. Then I checked my box of arm warmers and other cold weather gear and found my neon arm warmers! I thought they were too tight, but they fit just fine now (guess I was FAT when I bought them!). I brought some other things in case I wanted to change, but I thought those were good and since it was going to be cool, calf sleeves. 

At about 5:05, I started getting dressed after putting in my contact lenses and brushing my teeth. I swear I pooped like 6 times this morning! It felt good to put on the clothes (I'd already put Bitch in the car as well as cooler). It is nice getting ready for a duathlon--none of that swimming nonsense!

I drove to the race site--about 61 miles from my house--and had no recollection of having raced there before until I got to the park--Emricson Park. Then I was like OH FUCK THIS COURSE IS HILLY. But, hey, it is what it is. I remembered I'd gone there in 2014 with a friend, and she drove, which is probably why I didn't remember.

I set up Bitch, and they have these nice bike racks:

I didn't like the bike number sticker, but what the hell. I was ECSTATIC that I got #11!!!

In my head, I wasn't thinking I was going to win today, but I knew I'd enjoy myself. It was picture-perfect weather, and today was my last multisport (official anyway--I plan on a 1/2 NothingMan over Thanksgiving weekend if my coach lets me do it) event of the year, so in a way I was sad.

But I wore a necklace that belonged to my Mom (fake diamond--who the fuck cares?), and I had some of my Dad's ashes in my jersey. So no matter what, I would be accompanied by 2 of the people I loved most in the world. They would give me some strength, and then the rest would be up to me.

Debby Jones said she'd be there because her husband was racing, and I saw her right away. When I met her husband, Bob, I said I knew him, but we'd never met. I know I've seen him at several local races. Here we are pre-race looking like fucking badasses:

We got ready to go, lined up, and then the horn blew. There are no chips in this race, so it's a mass start and everyone goes at once. Immediately, I felt old and slow. Lots of people flying by me, and all I thought was, "Do your best. That's all you can do."

The run course is fucking hilly--like 4 major hills over 2 miles--but I felt strong on the hills albeit slow. I didn't care what my pace was, and didn't look at my watch. I just know I was so happy to get on Bitch and begin my bike leg.

Right away on the bike, I felt pretty good. Not great--but not bad. I started passing people pretty early, and started counting. And I would sight on the next person and plan on passing them. In all, I passed 27 people and 1 tractor. Yes, a tractor! I was like, what the fuck, do I have to pass THIS? But it made me laugh.

When I got to transition, I quickly switched gears, and was like, well at least my legs don't feel that much worse! And I wondered how many people would re-pass me. As it turns out, only 9. And they were FAST runners. Still, I didn't know how well I'd done, but was happy I finished with what I felt was a solid effort. Here I am all fucking happy I'm done:

Really, I had had a great time! What's not to like about a short race where you pass a bunch of people on the bike? But I didn't know how I'd done rank-wise until they started announcing the awards. I heard something about 60-69 and though I was toast, then I heard MY NAME! Turns out I'd heard the 2nd place woman and I came first! How about that!

I was so happy (first picture in the post), and still am. This was my final multisport race of the year, and it makes me sad, but I'm moving on to bigger and better things now. Still--I feel like I've come a long way in a short amount of time doing pretty major training! Seriously, I was afraid I'd lost it and couldn't show up and race well. But I guess I can. Now I race with such joy that any winning is gravy!

But I have to say that winning is fucking fun!

It's a Twofer Today--This One's Called This Shit Has Got to Stop

This Shit Has Got to Stop

At the same time that I am pursuing ambitious athletic goals, there has been another, parallel, journey that I’ve been taking.

Since the time that that worthless piece of human garbage, Brock Turner, was brought to my attention, I have started to feel more comfortable talking about my own rape at the age of 25. But it’s a slow process—many people still act very uncomfortable when I tell them about it, or maybe they know, but they think that once they know, that I should never talk about it to them again. Or perhaps it is me that feels that they should know what to do for me once I’ve told them.

I told a bit about my own story on someone else’s Facebook page where they were discussing guns and how/whether being armed actually prevents certain crimes. In my case, the answer is NO. I was accosted by 2 men at the entrance to my apartment building and immediately seized around my waist and neck. I was outnumbered, and I felt a knife blade at my throat and a metal thing at my temple, which of course, was a gun.

I was then made to go into my apartment and was held down and made to feel helpless with the gun and knife on me for about 3 hours, and the two men took turns raping me. Then they alternated one controlling me and raping me while the other ransacked my apartment looking for anything of value.

On that Facebook page discussing guns, a very thoughtful woman recommended 2 books to me that I have purchased and begun reading one. I’ve only read about 25 pages of “The Body Keeps the Score—Brain, Mind, and Body in the Healing of Trauma” by Bessel Van Der Kolk, MD. But I already learned something new about myself. The way I have described how I managed to keep myself alive during that horrific event (convincing these people to NOT kill me and just leave) is that I blocked out my physical sensations and focused on trying to manage my rational thought, such as it was. The term in the book is depersonalization. So now I know that I took a very well known pathway to dealing with the trauma I was experiencing. And I now know that I reuse this technique over and over whenever I feel threatened, but that I also sometimes have reactions akin to PTSD where I lash out at someone that I feel is threatening me either real or perceived bodily or psychological harm. In the last 2 weeks, for example, I’ve taken to saying to people in a what I *think* is a jocular tone, “Don’t do that or I will punch you in the face.” I’ve noticed it gets their serious attention, and I wouldn’t really do it (at least I don’t think I would), but it somehow feels good coming out of my mouth. But as I write this, I realize that probably sounds psychotic to the recipients, but at least I know why I was doing it. I will not do it again.

As I said, with the whole Brock Turner thing, I’ve felt a little more comfortable talking about what happened to me, but I’ve also started to pay more attention to how I react to things, and now I’m starting to realize I am utilizing coping strategies that probably aren’t healthy. I won’t go so far as to say the endurance training is unhealthy—because as part of that journey, I’ve learned to meditate, to focus on staying present in the moment, to manage my breathing, and to remain calm in the face of huge obstacles. All of those things are very valid strategies towards healing. I'm not a total mess! My younger sister, Lisa (who currently won’t speak to me isn’t that just sad?), said to me just before my Dad passed away in 2007, “If you couldn’t exercise so much you would go crazy.” Well, fuck yeah that’s true. But she really has no idea why that is true.

Another thing I’ve learned from my brief foray into this book I’m reading is that what I really needed right after I was raped was for people who loved me to just hug the shit out of me and let me talk about it, even though it would make them feel however that would make them feel. But none of that happened. My boyfriend at the time lived in St. Louis (in medical school) while I was living in Chicago. When I told him what happened, I remember asking if he could come and spend a few days with me. He said no. I did go and stay at my parents’ house for a few weeks (and was told by a very understanding employer to take as much time off from work as I wanted, which was 2 weeks), but as had been the case for most of my childhood, Mom and Dad figured I could take care of myself, and they left me to my own devices, and so I just stewed in my own bad feelings thinking I had to try and make them go away. I surely could have used them hugging me and holding me and letting me cry at least once a day--probably more. I remember a lot of staring at the walls and wanting it all to stop.

I don’t know how or when, but I know that Mom and Dad told my 2 brothers and 2 sisters what happened to me, although I’m pretty sure it was short and sweet—Sheila was raped--or whatever words they used. They wouldn’t know or tell any more than that because they didn’t ask me because they didn’t want to know because that would tap into whatever bad feelings they might have relating to other bad things that happened to them. I think I felt at the time that it was Mom and Dad's duty to break the news, and then I hoped that the recipients would reach out to me.

None of my siblings ever asked me about what happened or came to spend time with me right after it happened or offered to just listen to me talk on the phone and let me cry or come over and sit with me. Maybe there was a little of that--I don't really remember--but it certainly wasn't enough to make me feel safe and loved.

4 years later when I got married, he knew about it but never asked me about it after I first told him. One time during foreplay he took his belt off and wrapped it around my neck playfully and I lost it. I told him to never ever do that again and I wondered how he could be so insensitive. Was I just supposed to forget that I’d been effectively enslaved for 3 hours straight? I will say that I think I have overcome many sexual aspects of the rape, although maybe if I find the right therapist, he/she will say I haven’t. The fact that I haven't dated in quite awhile probably says something about this.

Now my closest friends I think know how much I love hugging them and being hugged. It can’t make up for the hugs I never got when I needed them, but it sure helps. There is no possible amount of excess hugging in my book! They also know how to support me in my athletic endeavors—they don’t baby me, but they acknowledge my true victories and big accomplishments--past and current.

By contrast, I have a “friend” that I feel I must abandon because I see and feel my own reactions to how he treats me and I am sensing that he is dredging up these threatening feelings in me. I forgot to mention that when my ex-husband asked me for a divorce, he said it was because I was, “way too smart and knew it, had way too much energy and you change too much.” All very much who I am, right? And I told him right then and there that he had hurt me to the quick and it felt worse than when I was raped. And it DID feel worse. It felt to me like he was saying that I deserved to be raped because I was a bad person with these bad qualities. But at least I knew logically at the time, although it took me a few years to process and eliminate the physical and mental pain that caused me, that I wasn't a bad person and that I had a pretty fucking neat personality. I secretly believe one of my sisters feels the same way—that I deserved to be raped--that I needed to be brought down from my alleged pedestal. I was, after all, the favorite child of my Dad, which is why he made me his Executor.

Now as to Mom and Dad, they did the best they could and knew how. They let me stay with them. Just having them around was helpful to me. They treated me gently. They didn’t ask much of me. They did want me to stay there longer than I did—but I think that was mostly to help them heal. Trust me—they needed to heal as much as I did. Can you imagine being a parent getting called by the police at 2AM saying your daughter was raped she’s at this hospital please come as fast as you can? I can’t imagine how they felt. I can remember lying on the table in the ER naked with a sheet over me (they’d already done the rape kit) and my Mom and Dad coming in there and I’m positive I looked like a ghost of myself. I felt like I had this blank stare on my face like what the fuck am I supposed to do NOW? I didn’t know, they didn’t know. I remember my Mom and Dad standing over me crying. You never want to experience that. I almost felt dead. But I wasn't.

This “friend” I alluded to earlier is not a bad person. But he does remind me of my Dad’s behavior towards me which was that I did not need to be coddled or constantly congratulated for everything great I did. My Dad expected me to excel at anything I took on. And I did a lot of great things my whole life that I excelled at. I learned to play piano at 4 (taught myself). I taught myself to sew in 7^th grade and quickly was better at it than my Mom (although she enjoyed that I was better at it than her). I could (and can still) type way faster than most people--about 125 words a minute--after I took typing in summer school in 8th grade, which led to future job success. I was a straight-A student all the way through high school. I was Valedictorian. I got my first job when I was 15 and starting then, I was promoted regularly in whatever job I held. I got a full 4-year academic scholarship to Northwestern University and worked 20 hours a week to pay for my room and board and belong to a sorority. After I got divorced, I paid off my mortgage, and now I’m retired and doing just fine. I’ve won a bunch of triathlons and done an Ultraman. I’m a good cook and a great seamstress. I’m a good gardener. I try to be a good friend, and I'm always trying to improve on that.

Now, do I expect to be told constantly how fucking great I am? NO. But I think there’s this behavior in me that believes that the more I accomplish, the more I’m deserving of love and affection, and in the end, that’s what I’m really after. So I have a hard time exposing all my talents to men, but then once I do I often end up being treated like I’m some oddity or that I am bragging. Seriously, I’m not bragging. I’m proud of the things I’ve done and can do and the person I am today. But I think everyone deserves to be congratulated for new significant accomplishments no matter how many others they have achieved in the past.

If you are a professional musician, I am sure you appreciate someone telling you how beautifully you just performed one of Bach’s Brandenburg Concertos, even though it’s the 200^th time you’ve played it. If you are an artist that gets decent money for your art, it always feels good to hear someone tell you how much they love the painting of yours that they have hanging in their house. This is what the human experience is, and I like to spread the love to others for their accomplishments. I've attended many Ironman races on behalf of supporting my friends, and I know how much they appreciate it.

There are many friends and acquaintances I have that are very supportive and congratulatory—but this one “friend” is not. I should have red flagged this long ago, and I did for a time, but didn’t recognize what was wrong with the relationship. So here it is:

FUCKING CONGRATULATE ME AND SPONTANEOUSLY HUG ME SOMETIMES, YOU ASSHOLE

He probably doesn't read my blog. But he does manage to sometimes call me and text me and tell me about yet another free item (he makes quite a lot of money but expects free shit) he's received from some (name dropping) well known person. I always manage to say something like, "that's nice" or "that's cool" and "I hope you enjoy it." But, and maybe this is my issue, it comes across to me like, "my life is way fucking better than yours and it's a competition." Well, no, my life is just fine. With or without you. And I have real friends who don't lord their shit over me like they are trying to compete with me. For fuck's sake, I have a lot of younger friends, some male, some female, who are way better triathletes than I will ever be. I am as happy for their successes as I am for mine, and there is no sense in us trying to compete with one another.

Yes, I am a broken person, but I am no more or no less human than anyone else. I will keep setting big goals for myself, and I am grateful that I feel safe in talking about my own personal trauma, and that there are kind, loving people out there who won’t judge me for it or my sometimes perplexing behaviors, but who will gently point me in a direction that will help me if not completely overcome, but at least better understand and hopefully cope with it. And who will support me in my (sometimes seemingly excessive) athletic pursuits, and who will accept me in all my fucked up psychological coping strategies. And hug me. Always hug me!

Smiles and Tokens of Appreciation Go a Long Way

Over the years, I've encountered many people in my athletic, personal and work lives who have helped me in some way, and I try and help others whenever I can. I have many tokens of appreciation, some of which merely signify we are happy to know one another. When I look around my house, I see so many little things (I now have a policy against anything larger than about 6" any dimension) that came to me under happy circumstances. I have articles of clothing that were given to me that whenever I wear them remind me of the giver. 

I especially appreciate when someone gives me something that is "me." I have an Incredible Hulk action figure given to me by my good friend, William. I have a hot dog ornament that was given to me by a former coworker, Liz. I once sent Liz a box of candy and fucks, because I knew she would like the candy, and I also knew she was running out of fucks. I wrote FUCK on about 30 Post-It notes! I have a skull given to me by Lori, and when she gave it to me, she told me how she had searched for the perfect skull. It's an anatomical model, that some people wouldn't like, but I love it. I have many things from my BFF, Susan. From skulls to a picture of some wild asses we saw in Hawaii when we were there together when I was training for my very first marathon! Joshua gave me some decorative bottles that have skulls on them and little things inside that I immediately asked, "Are those candy?" Sadly, they are not. My favorite earrings were given to me by Shelley--they are heads in a jar from New Orleans!

Back in 2004 when I was fortunate enough to get into Ironman Hawaii via lottery, I was there with Susan and another friend, Judy. They were my support crew and put up with my moody ass. Here's the 3 of us in a convertible that I rented for our stay and I think we were on the road up to Mauna Kea. This was taken after the race, which explains my winning tan! 

I had such a good time showing Susan and Judy my favorite places on the Big Island after the race. Some time after we all returned to the mainland (sadly), Susan sent me that picture in a beautiful frame. I display the picture always in my living room as it reminds me of good friendship and a wonderful experience. 

On our last day in Kona, we went to Lulu's on Alii Drive. It's now closed. Strung around the railings were banners from the race that merely read Ironman World Championship. There were no sponsor names on it. I asked if I could have a piece of it, and they gave me about 10 feet worth! I took it home and it was precious to me; however, I have given pieces of it away to others--some as they qualified for Kona, and some for inspiration. I don't have any of it left myself, which at times makes me sad, but I hope that the recipients appreciate it.

I try and give people a token of appreciation when they do a favor for me. It's not because I believe in quid pro quo (or as I like to call it, Squid Pro Quo),

but it's just the right thing to do. Sometimes people turn me down, but I'm usually quite insistent on showing them how much I appreciate what they did.Yesterday I decided to go swim at Good Samaritan Wellness Center again. I figured it was worth it for the cool water and hot tub to pay the $15. When I got there (finally, after I'd started on cleaning/organizing my garage, applied a bag of sand to my patio, dropped off a ruined car tire for recycling and checked if I could still get some hanging flower baskets), Jamie was at the front desk, but so was someone else, and she took my information and I paid the $15. Jamie winked at me, and I engaged her in quiet conversation after I paid up, and I told here when my next 3 visits would be, and without saying anything out loud, I know she will let me in for free. Just as I did a few years ago, I am going to give her a bottle of wine for the favor. I remembered that she liked reds, and I did quietly say to her yesterday, "If I remember correctly, you like reds, right?" I didn't even need to say WINE. She remembered, too. So I bought a pretty nice bottle, since after all, I'm still saving money based on her generosity, and I even found a nice wine gift bag at home and thank you card.

Why has this woman been so nice to me over the years? Because I show up smiling! One time it was to go there at oh-dark-thirty to do my very first 10k swim. Many other times it was because my Y was closed on a holiday (now my Y is open almost every holiday) or it was closed for the annual cleaning. We've both aged, but she is much younger than me (I'm guessing 20 years?).  When I went to swim on Sunday, she asked me what was new, and I told her I'd left my job and was starting in on some ambitious athletic goals.

I've had my share of being depressed and/or surly, but my natural state is exuberant and smiley. Some describe it as "bouncing off the walls." Well, yes, sometimes it's like that, too! As long as I'm doing something I enjoy doing, I'm generally going to have a smile on my face and know that my own smile can infect others. I've experienced incredible sadness, too, like in 2006 and 2007 when my parents died back to back. I was a wreck for the better part of 3 years straight, and for months after each parent's passing, I could barely go out in public without crying. But there were many people who were incredibly kind to me and I will never forget that. During that time, I learned how to help others through their own grief process, and unfortunately, have had to utilize those skills regularly. To me, there is no greater gift you can give a person than to be able to help them through that shit. When you know the horrors of deep, crippling grief, you never want to see a friend or loved one go through that, but you do what you can for them.

I'm sure I'm not always as thankful/appreciative for what others do for me, but I am always trying to get better at it. There have been times in the not too distance past when I've been depressed and thought I didn't have many friends. But I am finding that in having the time and energy to reach out to them all now, that I've not lost any of the important friendships, and those people are willing to stand by me and support me in my goals. And that, my friends, is the greatest gift I could ever receive. I hope I can make them all proud not just for what I accomplish, but for who I have become as a person. Because while I love the athletic stuff, none of that is going to be important when I'm dead. What will be important is that I lived my life with joy and integrity and gave as much to others as they have given to me.

For at least 10 years, I've mentored or coached (typically for free) many people because to me, knowledge is useless unless you give it away. No offense to people who charge for that, and I may begin doing that again, but having a passion for something and sharing that passion with others is one of the best things in life. I love gardening and love it when people appreciate my yard as they walk by, and sometimes we chat about plants and stuff. I love training and racing, which is why I like to be well-dressed when I do it so it's obvious the joy I am experiencing, even when it sucks. There is too much good stuff in life to experience for one lifetime! But I am going to give it my best shot!

Hot Tub Time Machine

My Y's pool is closed today through next Saturday. I wanted to swim today to help me recover from the 200k trainer ride I did yesterday, so I started hunting for alternate pools last night. I had thought I'd go to Naperville Y, but it turns out they are closed, too. This morning I tried contacting Elmhurst Y, and theirs is closed, too! So I decided to bite the bullet and go to Good Samaritan Wellness Center, which is about 2.5 miles from home, and is a very nice pool and facility and pay the $15.

I got there at about 8:20, and recognized the girl at the front desk, Jamie. In the past, she has let me swim there free (off the books) when my Y was closed.I bought her a bottle of wine a few years ago as a thank you for the favors. I filled out the waiver form and was more than happy to pay for just one day (there's another pool close by that is only $10 a pop that I will visit the rest of the week). Another woman came to the desk, a member of the facility, and she'd forgotten her card. I turned to her and asked if they gave guest passes, so maybe I could be hers. They only do it on odd days, so I hugged this complete stranger and said, "I'm your sister!" And Jamie let me in for free.

I got to the pool deck, grabbed a kick board and pull buoy and grabbed my very own lane! I got in, and the water was nice and cool, as compared to my Y which is usually too hot for me. I did my warmup and was predictably slow, but I didn't care. Immediately, I began wistfully looking over at the giant hot tub, knowing I'd be in there when I was finished to stretch and relax. I have a caffeine hangover from drinking the caffeine-laden Infinit yesterday. But the swimming felt great.

In looking around the pool area (there's a lap pool, a hot therapeutic pool, hot tub and sauna), I recalled racing here many times in the past, as part of the Midwest Indoor Triathlon Club Series during the first part of several years. I remember how much fun I've always had at those races (format is 10 minute swim, 20 minute stationary bike and 15 minute track run. Scoring is based on total distance covered, so it favors strong cyclists, like ME!), and where I would go at this particular pool to get body marked. Some of the volunteers would show up year after year, and several remembered me from having won in the past, and also that I always raced in a 2-piece bikini, as I was comfortable in it, and then I only had to put on bike shorts for the rest of the race.

I remembered that I'd won my AG many times at those races, and thought I should look it up when I got home. I swam an easy 2700 yards and then hit the hot tub, which was luxurious! I stayed in there about 25 minutes, and savored the strong jets massaging my quadratus lumborum, triceps, glutes and forearms. I got out, took a nice long, hot shower (it's rather cool here today but nice), got dressed, thanked Jamie with a smile and a wink, and came home.

I looked up all those races. Holy crap I won a lot of those things, and I tossed all the medals because I had so many a few years ago. Here's the tally:

• 2003: Raced and won 3 out of 4 races.
• 2004: Raced and won all 4 races and the series.
• 2005: Raced and won 2 races.
• 2007: Raced and won all 4 races and the series.
• 2009: Raced and won all 4 races and the series.
• 2010: Raced and won all 3 (starting in 2010 there were only 3 races--Good Samaritan dropped out) races and the series.
• 2015: After a hiatus from these things, raced and won one of the races.

Now, these things are very local, but over the years, they became quite competitive with serious triathletes showing up, so I was always proud and honored to keep winning them. They gave me a serious dose of speedwork in the middle of winter, which was good training and also great motivation. There are several friends I still have to this day that I met at these things!  I first met a now pro triathlete, Thomas Gerlach, at one of these things. He would win overall, and was smiling broadly back then and he continues to do so today.

It became known that I was a beast on the bike, and many times I would have the overall best female bike split, unless a pro triathlete showed up. Several friends and I even tested out what would be the best way to maximize distance on the bike, which depended on how they were calibrated. We were fiercely competitive at these things! And yet I know some people who might consider it beneath them to race one of these. Too short, too small, indoors, blah blah blah. To me, a race is a race--whether it's on my own, inside, outside and whatever distance. It's all to the training good!

When I got home from swimming today. a friend met me at my house. He gave me a nice grocery bag full of home grown tomatoes! So I guess I'll be making some kind of sauce soon! I gave him some of the Muffuletta I made a few weeks ago.

In a few hours I'm going to have a cocktail with another friend who is here from out of town, and then I'm waltzing down the street to a neighbor's who is also a friend and we'll share a few beers and conversation.

What an awesome day I am having! It's nice to reflect on the past to see where it's brought me today, it's great to encounter and know such kind and generous people, and it's great to have friends to share the bounties of our lives with.

Life is really good!