Standing at the Trailhead of Winter

I just want to cry. The two weeks leading up to break, I felt so excited and looked so forward to having a week off. Then the week got here. The first day was delicious--I didn't have to do a darn thing except get the kids to school then back home when school ends. The in-between hours belonged to me. Each day that followed that first, though, all I thought about was how another day was going by which meant the week was creeping towards the end, and I would have to return to work. All the excitement, all the anticipation poof, gone. Sometimes I wonder what I'm doing. While I enjoy my work, I feel like I'm constantly scrambling to keep up with the grading, the other must-do's that go along with the job. I've also felt for awhile now that I'm falling behind my colleagues. Most of them have been working towards a doctorate in one area or another. They're moving up the salary scale because of getting another degree, and they're also moving in a pedagogical d

My middle child turned 13 yesterday. We kept it simple this year, just a birthday dinner followed by cake. Those in attendance included just us, minus his sister who had a track meet a couple of hours away, and in a quiet way we celebrated the day he was born. As I baked his cake during the day, a white with chocolate ribbon through the middle and white icing to top it off, I thought about finding out I was pregnant with him. I was elated to be having a boy, and from the moment he entered the world, he has shown me just how much he loves me. Sometimes he becomes a bit too dependent, wanting to be with me all the time, almost sitting on top of me at times as he gets that close. I try never to say anything, for I know one day he'll be more than ready to leave the nest. It will be then that I will be glad for his need for attention, for closeness. It will be then that I wish he was here, sitting as close to me as possible. Because he is starting track this week, I bought him a set of

The bike flies, and I don't have to put tons of effort into making it fly. For two months I've been riding my hubby's bike we have set up in the garage, and everytime I workout, my thighs burn with the effort it takes to keep the speed up around 14 mph. I figured this was just the way it was. Now, though, after being out twice on the new bike, I have found out otherwise. With much less effort, I'm able to maintain a speed of 15 mph or more. Pure bliss. Today we went out and finished 7 miles in about a half hour. That's not too bad. Since it was only the second time I've been out of the garage, I'm happy with the distance/time. When the race actually comes around, I know I'll be putting in a lot more effort to go faster, so I'm hoping to finish up the 13.6 miles in less than 40 minutes. Realistic? Right now, I don't know, but I'm feeling stronger and more fit with each day I train.

I finally cracked and stepped onto the scale. I knew better than to do this, but when my brother asked me the other night how much weight I've lost because I'm looking thin, I decided it was time to see exactly what I've lost. I've gained 5 pounds. I almost grabbed up the scale to fling it through the bathroom window. It has never been my friend, and now it seems like a straight up enemy. When my hubby learned my weight has increased, he seemed excited. "It's muscle," he said. "You're incresing muscle with all the biking, swimming, and running." Not exactly what I wanted to hear, but the idea of muscle rather than fat is easier to take. Not by a whole lot, but still easier. So I took my measurements to compare to last month's numbers. All are the same except two: my hips went down .5 inches and my chest increased by 1 inch. Again, not quite like I was hoping to see. My hips are slim anyway, so losing a half inch makes my hip to waist rati