<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7351287421184528625</id><updated>2012-02-16T13:05:59.981-05:00</updated><category term='new baby'/><category term='announcement'/><title type='text'>Waiting for the Race to Start</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heathermaloy.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7351287421184528625/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heathermaloy.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>MamaFeather</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_9MRI30jsL0M/Sng-955tEGI/AAAAAAAAAqg/si8Rs51S2uc/S220/img0021.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>22</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7351287421184528625.post-6607598094707422541</id><published>2009-11-22T16:38:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2009-11-22T18:47:09.951-05:00</updated><title type='text'>And then there were three.</title><content type='html'>One year ago today, I went for a 15 mile run near Stockbridge, Massachusetts. My parents had rented a house for our family Thanksgiving and I went up a few days early to help get the (Butter)ball rolling. It was a great place to run- a logging road turned trail which crossed the Appalachian Trail and continued down the mountain as a windy neighborhood street. I was training for the Disney Marathon as a last hurrah before I got pregnant (at least that was the plan).  As I headed out for the run, I stopped for a last quick bathroom break before I left the house, waiting not so patiently for a period that never came. I remember that bathroom break in vivid detail, as it was the very first time I thought, "Could I be pregnant?" Over next two and a half hours on the trail (oh, and the days, weeks and months afterwards) I couldn't think of much else. If you have been reading this blog, then you know the end of this story already.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I took a test the next day and it was...negative. I hadn't mentioned it to Rick because I thought I was getting too far ahead of myself. So, I got in the shower and started getting ready for work. I hadn't thrown the stick in the garbage yet, but as I was about to...W&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;AIT. WHAT IS THAT? A pink, um, line? A PINK LINE? Faint? Wait, what does a FAINT pink line mean???&lt;/span&gt;  I run into the bedroom where Rick is SOUND ASLEEP, well he WAS sound asleep right up until I woke him with a pee covered piece of plastic and a mostly invisible pink line, which I shoved very close to his eyes. Sound asleep and with no contacts on, in a dark bedroom - no the faint line did not convince him of much. In fact, as I feared, he thought I was crazy and rolled back over for more sleep.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I tried to concentrate at work and was too scared to google FAINT PINK LINE thinking that the IT department had some alarms in place that alert HR of searches on Important Life Things. I waited until Wednesday (Thanksgiving Eve) before I took another test. Sure enough. BAM. Postively pink.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And just like that my life would never be the same.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7351287421184528625-6607598094707422541?l=heathermaloy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heathermaloy.blogspot.com/feeds/6607598094707422541/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://heathermaloy.blogspot.com/2009/11/and-then-there-were-three.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7351287421184528625/posts/default/6607598094707422541'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7351287421184528625/posts/default/6607598094707422541'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heathermaloy.blogspot.com/2009/11/and-then-there-were-three.html' title='And then there were three.'/><author><name>MamaFeather</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_9MRI30jsL0M/Sng-955tEGI/AAAAAAAAAqg/si8Rs51S2uc/S220/img0021.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7351287421184528625.post-3969482823544390992</id><published>2009-11-21T22:27:00.006-05:00</published><updated>2009-11-21T23:19:01.490-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Just do it.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_9MRI30jsL0M/Swi7FDHZ5II/AAAAAAAAAuQ/ANWIHyvG6Vs/s1600/taranto_1110.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 259px; height: 189px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_9MRI30jsL0M/Swi7FDHZ5II/AAAAAAAAAuQ/ANWIHyvG6Vs/s320/taranto_1110.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5406777048068383874" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;The whole idea of motivation is a trap. &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Forget motivation.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;JUST DO IT.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Exercise, lose weight, test your blood sugar, or whatever. Do it without motivation.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;And then, guess what?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;After you start doing the thing, that's when the motivation comes &amp;amp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; makes it easy for you to keep on doing it.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;~John C. Maxwell &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Because it isn't usually the miles that are hard. It's the showing up. Getting out of bed. Getting into the pool. Pumping the tires on the bike. Really, folks - these are the hardest parts of Ironman training. Throw in having to peel myself away from the freaking cutest little munchkin and well...I need to heed Nike's advice and just DO it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Actually this week was was off to a great start. Our Tuesday night run was 600's on the Reservoir path. I started the workout with a growling stomach (I *cannot* figure out the nutrition needs of training + nursing at ALL!) but somehow managed to bang out what felt like strong, steady efforts. (I'm still not timing anything, just going on feel.) I didn't stick around for the strength work after because I was about to fall over. I drank the whole Gatorade standing on the drink aisle of the drug store before I could make it to the register to pay. Trashy, right?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We're still focusing mainly on technique and pacing in the pool but by some stroke of fate, I wound up swimming in the FAST lane with the DUDES and managed not to get plowed over. It was such a victory. (Though, I'm pretty sure some NYC triathlete dude went home and blogged about the fat, slow girl clogging up the pool.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My time trial ride turned into a trainer session (I forgot how much I hate trainer sessions) but hey, I did it so that counts for something in my book.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My weekend did not start off as I had planned - a little low key dinner with friends turned into a 2am rager (damn that wine club) and this morning's brick became an 11 am wake-up and a 1:00 nap. Yes, you read that right. I have a 15 week old and I got to sleep until 11am. Breakfast for Riley at 7 and then back to sleep. I love that kid. He's got his priorities straight.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, internet. I have a date with 9W tomorrow morning. &lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_9MRI30jsL0M/Swi6n-QlLfI/AAAAAAAAAuI/u4BaOIwZhMU/s1600/taranto_1398.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 292px; height: 194px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_9MRI30jsL0M/Swi6n-QlLfI/AAAAAAAAAuI/u4BaOIwZhMU/s320/taranto_1398.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5406776548548488690" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Maybe I'll punish myself with some River Road running. Did I say punish? I meant REWARD. Reward myself with running, because I can.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;JUST DO IT.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thanks, Nike.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7351287421184528625-3969482823544390992?l=heathermaloy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heathermaloy.blogspot.com/feeds/3969482823544390992/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://heathermaloy.blogspot.com/2009/11/just-do-it.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7351287421184528625/posts/default/3969482823544390992'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7351287421184528625/posts/default/3969482823544390992'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heathermaloy.blogspot.com/2009/11/just-do-it.html' title='Just do it.'/><author><name>MamaFeather</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_9MRI30jsL0M/Sng-955tEGI/AAAAAAAAAqg/si8Rs51S2uc/S220/img0021.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_9MRI30jsL0M/Swi7FDHZ5II/AAAAAAAAAuQ/ANWIHyvG6Vs/s72-c/taranto_1110.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7351287421184528625.post-6375895459799245615</id><published>2009-11-15T23:45:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2009-11-22T18:48:07.858-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Training Habits</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;I promised to make blogging one of my training habits. Unfortunately it's one that's easily broken. I'm turning over a new leaf and will add the 4th leg of my IM training back in ASAP. In the meantime, today is Month 3 and so it means another Letter from Mama. Stay tuned in the coming days as I get myself back on track - well, blogwise at least!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_9MRI30jsL0M/SwmvJG0vJwI/AAAAAAAAAuY/nHteUz-fUAw/s1600/DSC_9195.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 213px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_9MRI30jsL0M/SwmvJG0vJwI/AAAAAAAAAuY/nHteUz-fUAw/s320/DSC_9195.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5407045398620481282" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Letter from Mama - Month Three&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times,serif;"&gt;Riley - Our little man, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times,serif;"&gt;Happy Three Months! Really, these three months have been happier than I ever imagined and each day just gets better. Our little house now sparkles with your sweet laughter and your little voice chattering away. You’ve grown so much (tipping the scales at a whopping 15 or so pounds now; 13 at your last doctor’s visit.) Your first series of shots traumatized me so much more than you, as did your first fever. Yeeek. These days you are great at grabbing things with both hands, love to sit up like a big boy (with some help of course) and think watching people eat is super interesting. You laughed your head off watching us eat popcorn. We’re glad you are so easily entertained!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times,serif;"&gt;You’ve had so much going on this month it requires listing -&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times,serif;"&gt;•    Adding more states to the ongoing list - North Carolina, Rhode Island, Connecticut &amp;amp; Massachusetts&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times,serif;"&gt;•    Your first subway ride and some apartment hunting. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times,serif;"&gt;•    On the family front - Visiting with Auntie Phyllis was fun. She’s your Great, Great Aunt. (She really is great!) Of course this also means you played your first game of Skip-Bo and got to visit the Old Candy Store and Mary’s Little Schoolhouse. (You know Mary of the Little Lamb fame!?)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times,serif;"&gt;Cousins Gretchen &amp;amp; Siri were so happy to meet you. (And see you have your first meltdown in a restaurant!) Uncle Morgan took a turn at babysitting. To you he’ll always be so old, but leaving my baby brother home with you, my baby, sure was strange! GranBarb came to visit for your first NYC marathon (Dad rocked at 4:02) and Aunt Kim and Cousin Deanna came to visit too!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times,serif;"&gt;•    Mom had her first night away from home since you were born (I couldn’t sleep!) and you got to hang out with Dad for a fun boy’s weekend. I sure did miss you but had loads of fun at triathlon camp in the mountains. I can’t wait to share the adventure someday!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times,serif;"&gt;•    You experienced your first Wake Forest football heartbreak, saw the Deke house and met a load of fun folks in Winston-Salem. Cheering on Mom’s Seminoles was fun, but hanging out with Dad’s college friends was even better. What did you think of your first tailgate?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times,serif;"&gt;•    You were the cutest traveling gnome for Halloween, even though you only got to parade around the house and you’ll have to wait another year before you get any candy!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times,serif;"&gt;•    As we predicted in April, you were the lucky charm NY needed because THE YANKEES WON THE WORLD SERIES! Dad was at the final game, but I wouldn’t have traded my seat for the world….we watched Game 6 curled up together on the couch. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times,serif;"&gt;So, little bug every day your cheeks get a little more chunky and your words get a little more clear. Soon tiny teeth will pop through and change your baby face forever. For now, we are savoring every drooly minute. You are the cutest little munchkin and we love you to pieces. If I could slow down time, I sure would. You are growing so quickly. Keep up the good work!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times,serif;"&gt;Love, &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times,serif;"&gt;Mama&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7351287421184528625-6375895459799245615?l=heathermaloy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heathermaloy.blogspot.com/feeds/6375895459799245615/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://heathermaloy.blogspot.com/2009/11/training-habits.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7351287421184528625/posts/default/6375895459799245615'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7351287421184528625/posts/default/6375895459799245615'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heathermaloy.blogspot.com/2009/11/training-habits.html' title='Training Habits'/><author><name>MamaFeather</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_9MRI30jsL0M/Sng-955tEGI/AAAAAAAAAqg/si8Rs51S2uc/S220/img0021.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_9MRI30jsL0M/SwmvJG0vJwI/AAAAAAAAAuY/nHteUz-fUAw/s72-c/DSC_9195.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7351287421184528625.post-4174534033568552615</id><published>2009-10-15T17:44:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2009-10-15T17:50:27.032-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Letter from Mama - Month Two</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_9MRI30jsL0M/SteYrwXrFnI/AAAAAAAAAtY/q-9tsAiMQng/s1600-h/DSC_8822.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 293px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_9MRI30jsL0M/SteYrwXrFnI/AAAAAAAAAtY/q-9tsAiMQng/s320/DSC_8822.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5392946956285449842" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;Dear Riley,&lt;/span&gt;  &lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You are officially two months &amp;amp; forty minutes old. You’ve been in the world a whopping 61 days. Congrats!&lt;/span&gt;  &lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It’s funny to say you’ve accomplished so much for a little guy, but you really have! You make the world brighter when you smile and when the occasional chuckle sneaks out, it melts our hearts. You’ve learned to smile and flirt. You love to dance (especially with your pants off!) and have figured out how great thumb sucking is. (Sorry, kid. It was your destiny!) &lt;/span&gt;  &lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In 61 days, you’ve been to the beach, on a plane (you were an angel), on a bus (not an infant-friendly mode of transport), on a ferry and on GrandFrank’s boat. You saw the most magnificent sunset and I think, for a moment, it reminded you where you came from. &lt;/span&gt;  &lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You’ve danced at not one, but TWO weddings and set a record of being in two photobooths before two months! Wowza. You’ve pooped on a number of pretty ladies, which is funny...for now! You’ve cheered at your first marathon (apparently you are a lucky charm!!) and cheered your favorite baseball team to the playoffs. Hopefully there's a championship ring in your next letter! &lt;/span&gt;  &lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You’ve met so many people who love you - Aunt Lois, Uncle Greg, Shaune + John, Colleen + Chris, Cousins Austin, Maddie, Ryan, Liam, Maeve, Lauren + Taryn. You are a lucky little guy to meet your Great Grandmother Marie, too! You've already welcomed some new friends too - another cool dude, Kyle Adam + pretty Madison Elizabeth. You aren't the new kid on the block anymore! &lt;/span&gt;  &lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We have so much ahead to look forward to, sweet Riley, but more importantly we love each moment with you. I swear you are a little different every morning when we wake up and it’s wonderful. Snuggling in bed with you and your dad on this rainy fall day is a blessing beyond words.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;I love you, little one!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;Love,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt; Mama &lt;/span&gt;   &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7351287421184528625-4174534033568552615?l=heathermaloy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heathermaloy.blogspot.com/feeds/4174534033568552615/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://heathermaloy.blogspot.com/2009/10/letter-from-mama-month-two.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7351287421184528625/posts/default/4174534033568552615'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7351287421184528625/posts/default/4174534033568552615'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heathermaloy.blogspot.com/2009/10/letter-from-mama-month-two.html' title='Letter from Mama - Month Two'/><author><name>MamaFeather</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_9MRI30jsL0M/Sng-955tEGI/AAAAAAAAAqg/si8Rs51S2uc/S220/img0021.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_9MRI30jsL0M/SteYrwXrFnI/AAAAAAAAAtY/q-9tsAiMQng/s72-c/DSC_8822.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7351287421184528625.post-7029781836596119465</id><published>2009-09-27T16:36:00.005-04:00</published><updated>2009-09-27T22:21:43.346-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Under Construction</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://farm1.static.flickr.com/104/281532760_cd76010a9a.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 234px; height: 234px;" src="http://farm1.static.flickr.com/104/281532760_cd76010a9a.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:100%;"&gt;Ironman training officially starts tomorrow! I got clearance from the doctor to resume all activities on Friday, so I made it just in the nick of time!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:100%;"&gt;Today was my maiden run voyage. Test driving the 'new model' Mom Body 2009 was pretty cool. I was tempted to click my heels at every crosswalk I was &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;that&lt;/span&gt; happy to be running again! I did 40 minutes at what seemed like a snail's pace, with just a few 30 second walk breaks. For the most part, the engine was fine. I am happy to report that all the major components are in good working order and handled the ride nicely! (I was due to feed the little man as soon as I got home, so the, um, tanks were, um, full and well...I think I need to work on a better restraint system. Any suggestions?)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:100%;"&gt;Facing down Week 1 of the "Foundation Phase" I couldn't be more excited. I'm heading to Ft. Lauderdale with Riley on Wednesday for some time with the grandparentals and look forward to some beach running and ocean swimming! I'll meet the &lt;a href="http://www.trilife.org/"&gt;te&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.trilife.org/"&gt;am&lt;/a&gt; on Tuesday night for our first run and strength session, but I'll sadly miss our first bike and swims.  Part of me wants to show up on Tuesday with a billboard that says "Under Construction: This Body is 6 Weeks Postpartum."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Seriously, who starts Ironman training in MATERNITY PANTS? Ha!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This should be fun! Wish me luck!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7351287421184528625-7029781836596119465?l=heathermaloy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heathermaloy.blogspot.com/feeds/7029781836596119465/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://heathermaloy.blogspot.com/2009/09/test-drive.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7351287421184528625/posts/default/7029781836596119465'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7351287421184528625/posts/default/7029781836596119465'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heathermaloy.blogspot.com/2009/09/test-drive.html' title='Under Construction'/><author><name>MamaFeather</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_9MRI30jsL0M/Sng-955tEGI/AAAAAAAAAqg/si8Rs51S2uc/S220/img0021.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://farm1.static.flickr.com/104/281532760_cd76010a9a_t.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7351287421184528625.post-9164502912172578846</id><published>2009-09-13T15:29:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2009-09-13T15:31:42.038-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Letter from Mama - Week Four</title><content type='html'>Dear Riley,&lt;br /&gt;You’re the center of a big debate today. Are you a month old or just 4 weeks? I think I’ll say 4 weeks and count the 15th as your official 1 month birthday. I don’t want you to grow up too fast already!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So let’s see - this week was your official launch party. You met lots of new friends and Anne Williams brought you your first bottle of liquor. Only 20 years and 11 months until you can drink it! The party was great and everyone was so happy to meet you. Dad had to leave early with Uncle Steve, John Belford and Jack to go see the Yankees game. We watched Derek Jeter tie Lou Gerhig’s hit record, which will be pretty neat to you someday in the future!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You surprised me the other day when suddenly I felt a tiny hand grabbing at my arm. It was so sweet! You can grab at things and are so much more alert now.  You also found your thumb a few times this week, which is totally adorable. Dad loves playing with Mr. Duckie because you watch and smile. You can burp and fart like a full grown man which just cracks us up! I’m sure someday that will come back to haunt us, but for now we think you are pretty funny!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, angel face, I only have a few minutes before you wake up to eat and I need to get ready for bed before you do.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love you more than the world!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Love,&lt;br /&gt;Mama&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7351287421184528625-9164502912172578846?l=heathermaloy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heathermaloy.blogspot.com/feeds/9164502912172578846/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://heathermaloy.blogspot.com/2009/09/letter-from-mama-week-four.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7351287421184528625/posts/default/9164502912172578846'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7351287421184528625/posts/default/9164502912172578846'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heathermaloy.blogspot.com/2009/09/letter-from-mama-week-four.html' title='Letter from Mama - Week Four'/><author><name>MamaFeather</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_9MRI30jsL0M/Sng-955tEGI/AAAAAAAAAqg/si8Rs51S2uc/S220/img0021.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7351287421184528625.post-6209110910303592545</id><published>2009-09-11T21:50:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2009-09-11T22:28:56.634-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Silver Lining</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman;"&gt;We woke up to a nor'easter. It was kind of nice - windy and cool. Eventually the rain came, and when it did, it came from every direction.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I went out for groceries and coffee. I left my wallet at home and sloshed my soaking wet way back to the car. I was hungry, wet and sans coffee. It wasn't how I wanted to start my day. Then I remembered the date and my rainy travels didn't seem so bad. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was coming home from the post office when my mom called with the news we'd been waiting on... the tumors they've been watching in my dad have doubled in size.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here we go again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Since we don't have any real knowledge in terms of prognosis, treatment, etc - I'll keep it short. After a handful of rounds of colon cancer in the colon &amp;amp; liver, he now has tumors in his colon and one in his lungs.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's kind of overwhelming to have the news simmering in my mind side-by-side with the elation and joy that this little Riley man is bringing into our lives. Over dinner, I was thinking how strange life is like that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;September 11th is a sad day by any measure, but it is my yearly reminder of silver linings. In the aftermath of 9/11, I was inspired by the spirit of New York, the sense of community and the ability of a place to turn something so tragic into growth and life. A little more than 6 months later, my friend Tiffany and I packed up and moved. I'm 7 years as NYer and still a little guilty that something so tragic led my life to be what it is now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It wasn't long before my dad was first diagnosed with cancer. It was hard being so far away and like everyone felt helpless. As he recovered, I came home to find a Team in Training flyer in the mail and again found a way to turn something ugly into something new and was happy to have a tool in the fight.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Looking back now, the silver lining practically sparkles. TnT brought me my city family who eventually introduced me to my husband and well, the rest is history...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So my letter to 9-11 and cancer looks like this...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;F--- YOU and thanks, without you, I wouldn't be here with this sleeping angel on my lap.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7351287421184528625-6209110910303592545?l=heathermaloy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heathermaloy.blogspot.com/feeds/6209110910303592545/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://heathermaloy.blogspot.com/2009/09/silver-lining.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7351287421184528625/posts/default/6209110910303592545'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7351287421184528625/posts/default/6209110910303592545'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heathermaloy.blogspot.com/2009/09/silver-lining.html' title='Silver Lining'/><author><name>MamaFeather</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_9MRI30jsL0M/Sng-955tEGI/AAAAAAAAAqg/si8Rs51S2uc/S220/img0021.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7351287421184528625.post-6916218558836328995</id><published>2009-09-05T22:38:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2009-09-05T22:40:04.952-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Letter from Mama - Week Three</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman;"&gt;Sweet Riley,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman;"&gt;Congrats on Week Three! It seems like you are growing like a little weed! When you lounge on Dad now, your feet hit the couch on one side and your head is barely on his chest. Just last week you fit just perfectly. It’s hard for me to believe that you will only keep getting bigger from here. Sheesh!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman;"&gt;We’re on our way out to the beach again, and you keep peeking out of sleepy eyes. Dad is playing The Cure’s ‘Pictures of You’ and it makes me smile. We spent 10 months imagining who you’d be, and what you’d be like. We loved seeing you dance around in my belly and shared each sonogram picture with our family and friends. It seems like you’ve always been here with us, but just three weeks ago we were still just looking at pictures of you and hoping you’d get here already!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman;"&gt;You haven’t had much in the way of milestones this week. You’ve been a little grouchful and are awake for longer stretches at a time now. You sleep best when you are laying on one of our chests and spent a lot of time this week hanging out on the couch with Dad. Today you watched your first college football game (an exciting one!) Ohio State vs Navy. (Ohio won) and then went to your first real wedding! We were careful not to let you too near Kate because you seem to like to poop on pretty ladies. Would you believe that even on her wedding day, she remembered to bring you a present?! I can’t wait to read you Tajar tales and tell you about the mountains of NC.  I think you’ll really like learning Mama’s camp songs!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman;"&gt;Alright little man, Mama’s gonna take a nap now because you are sure to want to party tonight around 3am and when you party, I can’t sleep. Happy three weeks buddy. We love you so much already; it’s hard to believe just 21 days ago we hadn’t even met you yet!!!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman;"&gt;Love,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman;"&gt;Mama&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7351287421184528625-6916218558836328995?l=heathermaloy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heathermaloy.blogspot.com/feeds/6916218558836328995/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://heathermaloy.blogspot.com/2009/09/letter-from-mama-week-three.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7351287421184528625/posts/default/6916218558836328995'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7351287421184528625/posts/default/6916218558836328995'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heathermaloy.blogspot.com/2009/09/letter-from-mama-week-three.html' title='Letter from Mama - Week Three'/><author><name>MamaFeather</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_9MRI30jsL0M/Sng-955tEGI/AAAAAAAAAqg/si8Rs51S2uc/S220/img0021.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7351287421184528625.post-2301104918133512694</id><published>2009-09-03T10:55:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2009-09-04T12:23:01.345-04:00</updated><title type='text'>A Baby Brick</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.sothebyshomes.com/neighborhood/179.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 428px; height: 320px;" src="http://www.sothebyshomes.com/neighborhood/179.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hooray, hooray! Finally a post related to triathlon. Okay, so LOOSELY related, but Mama will take what she can get at this point.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yesterday I started down The Long Road Back.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Rick and I loaded up Riley and some beach chairs and headed to Long Beach in Sag Harbor for a family workout. Rick hasn't been swimming much and has two upcoming races (including a half, which he keeps threatening to bail on) so we figured a nice open water swim was in order.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Long Beach is aptly named - a long stretch of sand on Noyac Bay that plays host to one of our favorite late season races, Mighty Hamptons. Rick swam first and I took Riley on our first real 'workout' together. It felt great to get sweaty and get my heartrate up. I may have even sneaked in a few spurts of running WHICH. FELT. AWESOME.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At my 2 week post-op check-up I begged to get clearance for running, but it was still out of the question. As much as I wish I could ignore the doctor, he's been very progressive so far (his exact words in the recovery room were "Get up tomorrow and pretend you didn't have surgery") and has given me clearance for any other type of excercise, SO I am being good and listening. I have to think long term here, so being safe is priority numero uno.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Riley was sound asleep in the stroller, the weather was GORGEOUS (75 and not a cloud in the sky) and off to my left, I could see Rick swimming. A perfect welcome back. My legs feel surprisingly strong (even while running) and I have no pain around my incision. I was thrilled!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Back at the 'transition area' (read: Jeep), I fed the little man a bottle while Rick dried off. A quick baby handoff and it was my turn to swim. I marched down to the water in my ill fitting speedo and two week post-baby body thinking how someday I'd look back on the moment and laugh.  My strokes felt easy and smooth and my heart was singing with each breath, as I looked up into the brilliant blue sky.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hit my turnaround and took a minute to watch the boys hanging out in the shade of the car- does it get any better?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We ended the day with a celebratory beer and seafood at an outdoor restaurant on the water in town. Yes, friends, life is good.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Life. Is. Good.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7351287421184528625-2301104918133512694?l=heathermaloy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heathermaloy.blogspot.com/feeds/2301104918133512694/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://heathermaloy.blogspot.com/2009/09/baby-brick.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7351287421184528625/posts/default/2301104918133512694'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7351287421184528625/posts/default/2301104918133512694'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heathermaloy.blogspot.com/2009/09/baby-brick.html' title='A Baby Brick'/><author><name>MamaFeather</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_9MRI30jsL0M/Sng-955tEGI/AAAAAAAAAqg/si8Rs51S2uc/S220/img0021.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7351287421184528625.post-265093976965349933</id><published>2009-08-30T16:23:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2009-08-30T16:30:08.697-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Letter from Mama - Week Two</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_9MRI30jsL0M/SprgeHSU4JI/AAAAAAAAAs4/8U-3cXV5_aY/s1600-h/DSC_8407.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 213px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_9MRI30jsL0M/SprgeHSU4JI/AAAAAAAAAs4/8U-3cXV5_aY/s320/DSC_8407.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5375855913176719506" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;Dear Riley,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You are officially two weeks old today. I’m sorry I haven’t written sooner, but it’s really hard to pull myself away from you now to send an email to the future you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You’ve had a big week! At your second doctor’s appointment, you weighed a whopping 7 pounds 12 ounces, but I’m confident you are over 8 lbs by now. You’ve mastered the ‘trifecta’ of poop, pee &amp;amp; puke all at once, so we finally had to give you your first bath - luckily it didn’t wash away your sweet baby smell.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You met some more new friends and took your first trip to our house in East Hampton. (You slept the whole way!)  Your belly button stump came off too – another reminder that you’re your own little person now and not part of me anymore. It’s a little sad to think that, but after 10 months of your heels in my ribs, I’m happy to relinquish your uterine dwelling.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Also new this week, you had your first trip to Main Beach (again, you slept right through it.) Mom and dad were thrilled to see the sand for the first time ALL SUMMER. We went on our first of many shopping excursions to Kmart, TJ Maxx and the Gap (Mama needed some new pants) and guess what!? Yep. You slept right through!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Your dad and I were just saying how strong you are getting! You can lift your head so well now and love looking around over our shoulders. Dad was trying to change your diaper this morning and you wouldn’t unclench your little legs. Such a stinker!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My favorite thing you do these days is the funniest little lion roar/snort when you are starting to eat. It’s pretty hard to describe, but it sure is hilarious. I’d try to catch it on video, but not so sure about that since you’re still breastfeeding and someday you’ll think that’s super weird.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We’re driving out to the beach for the week and you are whimpering quietly in your sleep. It’s grey and rainy and so cozy to have our little family snug in the car. Hope you are having sweet dreams, little man!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mama&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7351287421184528625-265093976965349933?l=heathermaloy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heathermaloy.blogspot.com/feeds/265093976965349933/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://heathermaloy.blogspot.com/2009/08/letter-from-mama-week-two.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7351287421184528625/posts/default/265093976965349933'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7351287421184528625/posts/default/265093976965349933'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heathermaloy.blogspot.com/2009/08/letter-from-mama-week-two.html' title='Letter from Mama - Week Two'/><author><name>MamaFeather</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_9MRI30jsL0M/Sng-955tEGI/AAAAAAAAAqg/si8Rs51S2uc/S220/img0021.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_9MRI30jsL0M/SprgeHSU4JI/AAAAAAAAAs4/8U-3cXV5_aY/s72-c/DSC_8407.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7351287421184528625.post-6656852191127541522</id><published>2009-08-23T06:59:00.006-04:00</published><updated>2009-08-23T07:33:31.699-04:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='new baby'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='announcement'/><title type='text'>My Beautiful FInisher Medal</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;I'm so sorry for the overdue announcement, but DANG how can I stop inhaling this delicious new baby smell for more than a second!?!?!?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_9MRI30jsL0M/SpEnTwMagTI/AAAAAAAAAsY/mEgBHkljM2I/s1600-h/DSC00309.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 539px; height: 243px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_9MRI30jsL0M/SpEnTwMagTI/AAAAAAAAAsY/mEgBHkljM2I/s400/DSC00309.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5373119050737680690" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 102);"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:times new roman;" &gt;Riley Anson Maloy &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:times new roman;" &gt;was born Saturday, August 15th at 4:50pm &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:times new roman;" &gt;at St. Vincent's H&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:times new roman;" &gt;ospital in NYC. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-family:times new roman;" &gt;7 pounds, 10 ounces. 20.5 inches&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 102);"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;Rick and I couldn't be more thrilled! He is  PERFECT and healthy and had had quite the epic arrival.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I started my 'race report' in the hospital and quickly realized the recap (like the labor) was not going to be quick. I'll keep working on it and get it posted sometime soon. In the meantime, I'll share the email announcement Rick so cleverly wrote after 3 days in labor. I'm still amazed he could form a sentence, much less think creatively, so he gets MAJOR dad kudos for this one.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;font-size:100%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;From: riley.maloy@emailaddress.com&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;To: My Friends and Family&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;Date: Saturday, August 15th, 9:52 pm&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Subject: Hello, World! &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:-1;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:100%;" &gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hey Everyone, &lt;/span&gt;  &lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;I just moved to NYC today and man is this town cool. Where else would a swinging single dude want to live, but here in the Big Apple? Truth be told, the trip here was a bit longer than I expected. I didn't think it would take 51 hrs.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;It was a good thing I did move, since the plumbing in my old place really went haywire. Get this...I was hanging in my pad, chillin' in the hot tub starting around 2PM on Thursday, when out of now where the tub springs a leak and all the water come rushing out. I was soaking for a long time so it was about 7PM on Friday. Since I was moving, I figured I'd wait around for the repairman for as long as I could to fix it for the next tenant, but the repairman never came and I fell asleep. The next thing I know a hurricane hits at 4:50PM on Saturday August 15th and shears the roof off my house. Luckily someone yanked me out through the roof and then wrapped me in a blanket. Must of been hurricane relief from the Red Cross, they were really nice and airlifted me to my new home. &lt;/span&gt;  &lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As I was flying over my old house, I saw them stitch up the roof. I was glad the old place was still intact and doing well. They weighed me before the flight to see if we had to rearrange any weight on the plane, but I'm happy to report that I'm tipping the scales at a cool 7lbs. 10oz. so they didn't have to do anything. Leg room was nice my 20 and 1/2 inch frame fit perfectly. &lt;/span&gt;  &lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My cool new friends, Rick and Heather say that I have a ton of people to meet and I'm looking forward to it. They say you are all fantastic and really fun. Apparently we're staying at St. Vincent's for a few extra days for some much needed R&amp;amp;R. A few vacation photos are attached, sorry couldn't resist. &lt;/span&gt;  &lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Look for my launch party sometime in late Sept. I hear we throw great terrace parties. &lt;/span&gt;  &lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;See you soon.&lt;/span&gt;  &lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Riley Anson Maloy&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7351287421184528625-6656852191127541522?l=heathermaloy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heathermaloy.blogspot.com/feeds/6656852191127541522/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://heathermaloy.blogspot.com/2009/08/my-beautiful-finisher-medal.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7351287421184528625/posts/default/6656852191127541522'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7351287421184528625/posts/default/6656852191127541522'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heathermaloy.blogspot.com/2009/08/my-beautiful-finisher-medal.html' title='My Beautiful FInisher Medal'/><author><name>MamaFeather</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_9MRI30jsL0M/Sng-955tEGI/AAAAAAAAAqg/si8Rs51S2uc/S220/img0021.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_9MRI30jsL0M/SpEnTwMagTI/AAAAAAAAAsY/mEgBHkljM2I/s72-c/DSC00309.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7351287421184528625.post-8154574640573151408</id><published>2009-08-13T05:45:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2009-08-13T06:23:19.988-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Off to Transition</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;It's entirely too early in the morning to be on the computer, but I'm not ready to face the day (and anyway, Starbucks doesn't open for another 15 minutes.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had my follow up sonogram + fetal check up yesterday and Baby M. (as suspected) is happy as a clam. We discovered that the old saying 'the right hand doesn't know what the left hand is doing' is sadly, my body's mantra. My left side BP was markedly higher than my right so the recommendation was to induce me immediately. I'd been monitoring the right side for the past week and since it had been totally fine I was completely blindsided with that diagnosis. I got my Chief Negotiator (Rick) on the phone with my midwife and together they worked out The Plan.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Briefly, The Plan is to see her this morning as scheduled and head to the hospital around 2pm to begin an induction.(There are already 4 inductions scheduled this evening, on top of whatever women actually go into labor on their own, so we have to be hours early in order to get a room.) Ahh, NYC.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I spent last night getting some last ditch acupunture and we met the 'city family' for a last minute, last hurrah pasta dinner.  I'm lucky to have such a great family - both by blood and by kinship. This baby has a lot to look forward to.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My Meltdown didn't begin in earnest until we got out of the cab on the way home.  But since it's started it hasn't really stopped. (Can someone do some research on tears and dehydration?) Though I was wiped out, sleep eluded me for much of the night and when Rick's alarm went off this morning for his 5am brick, I was jolted awake. (Goodbye, Sleep, I'll see you again in a few years.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have a few hours to really pull myself together here. Knowing that the only way to survive this day is let myself relax into the flow, to control my emotions and ration my energy and see where things go....to focus on the &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;now. &lt;/span&gt;I'm trying really hard to visualize the feeling of a swim start - how I can either fight my way through the bodies and waste time and precious energy, or how I can relax and use the flow of forward motion, the current of everyone else's energy to surge forward.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, as you make your way through your day, think of us. Fingers crossed for a safe 'race.' Apparently the start line is FINALLY around the corner.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Let the adventure begin!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://blog.cjanerun.com/"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7351287421184528625-8154574640573151408?l=heathermaloy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heathermaloy.blogspot.com/feeds/8154574640573151408/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://heathermaloy.blogspot.com/2009/08/off-to-transition.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7351287421184528625/posts/default/8154574640573151408'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7351287421184528625/posts/default/8154574640573151408'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heathermaloy.blogspot.com/2009/08/off-to-transition.html' title='Off to Transition'/><author><name>MamaFeather</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_9MRI30jsL0M/Sng-955tEGI/AAAAAAAAAqg/si8Rs51S2uc/S220/img0021.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7351287421184528625.post-9001689726390515475</id><published>2009-08-11T13:22:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2009-08-11T13:57:08.219-04:00</updated><title type='text'>It's All in the Timing</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;No baby yet.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Pretty much every conversation, phone call and email these days starts with that fact. (Though, frankly I would often like to point out the obvious...)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"OH! Were we supposed to &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;TELL&lt;/span&gt; you when the baby gets here!?!?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm kidding. (Mostly!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;41 weeks today and I have to say, I'm really grateful for everyone's patience. Maybe they're all just scared I'm going to lose my sh-- and eat them whole. For those of you who have been here before, you know that there are moments when you think you might explode in some cosmic pregnancy accident - that maybe the baby will just kick you in the ribs &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;one more time&lt;/span&gt; and that will be all...BOOM.  And you will have been the first ever to give birth by combustion and aside from the mess, it wasn't so bad!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Really most of the waiting is fine. It seems time oozes by with the speed of a boring day at work - punctuated by meals and maybe a trip to the drugstore.  Watching the clock trickle minutes of your life away, but not really caring. You'll never get them back, but really it won't be until much later in life that you'd want them back anyway... (Okay, okay - more likely I'll be wanting these lazy afternoons back in just a few weeks!!!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Speaking of work....I've been watching the story of the sinking ship that is my old company on the news all day. (Thanks, Anne.) It appears that I jumped ship just in time. I can't imagine what it would have been like to watch the drama unfold and planning to return after the baby is born.  I'm wondering if the group of women who left around the time that I did had some sort of intuition. I don't miss that feeling of looking around wondering who will be left when the axe falls.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;And with that, another hour oozes by and still NO BABY.  If this little person has good timing, today would be an ideal day to arrive. The apartment is clean, my mom gets into town tonight and my midwife is at the hospital at this very moment. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'll keep you posted.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7351287421184528625-9001689726390515475?l=heathermaloy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heathermaloy.blogspot.com/feeds/9001689726390515475/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://heathermaloy.blogspot.com/2009/08/its-all-in-timing.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7351287421184528625/posts/default/9001689726390515475'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7351287421184528625/posts/default/9001689726390515475'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heathermaloy.blogspot.com/2009/08/its-all-in-timing.html' title='It&apos;s All in the Timing'/><author><name>MamaFeather</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_9MRI30jsL0M/Sng-955tEGI/AAAAAAAAAqg/si8Rs51S2uc/S220/img0021.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7351287421184528625.post-7242386672451533392</id><published>2009-08-07T10:47:00.004-04:00</published><updated>2009-08-07T14:50:59.575-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Check out time is 11 AM.</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;It's been a long few days around here.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We spent all of yesterday at the hospital, checking in on this babe and me. The little bugger is perfectly content to continue his or her tropical vacation for a while longer. I mean, really - who wouldn't? Free room service? No responsibilities? Spending the day floating in the tropical waters without a care in the world? Why, yes. I think I'd stay until the last moment too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mom on the other hand is having a rougher go of it. This pregnancy has been totally normal and healthy (a blessing) and I've had few complaints - I am still sleeping well, escaped both morning sickness and heartburn BUTTTT (and that is a BIG but...) I've struggled since day one with my blood pressure at every doctor's visit. It seems that my easy-going nature is only a thin veil of calm over a bundle of nerves. (You know how it is, appearing calm and relaxed actually MAKES you that way...and totally crushes the competition!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, the routine has been take my BP once at the beginning of any appointment, marvel at it's height and then relax, go about the business of the visit and then take it again, marveling at how much I can bring those numbers down just by relaxing and calming my mind. Folks, I've made it through 40 weeks and 1 day like this....but apparently 40 weeks and 2 days was my limit.  So, after checking in on baby's status at the four star, luxury resort in the Caribbean  - aka my uterus - it was off to do some heart rate monitoring for both of us. Baby = fine. Mom = high. Big. Freaking. Surprise.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I calmly explain the BP drill and the Nurse-Who-Chews-Her-Gum-Like-A-Horse nods along, not hearing my plea over the Earth Shattering Volume of her Gum Chewing. Next thing I know, they're sending me to L&amp;amp;D (that's Labor and Delivery, guys) for (insert scary voice over man here) &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;More Monitoring&lt;/span&gt;. I beg. I plead. &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Please just take it again. I've been waiting quietly and patiently and meditating.  &lt;/span&gt;But no, apparently Chews-Like-A-Cow has orders from Above and so off to L&amp;amp;D I go.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Can you imagine what my blood pressure is now????&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yes, well. Luckily, I'd made friends with a few of the nurses the other time I'd been there and the hilarious Nurse Nancy (yep - really, Nurse Nancy) remembers Rick and I and gets us settled into our room.  At this point, I've been there for 3 hours and am starving, pissed and obviously, scared. I know that if I cannot lower my BP, I'll be admitted and induced almost immediately. (Bye, bye laboring at home. Bye, bye moving around in labor. Bye, bye drug free plan.) So I'm trying my best not to TOTALLY. FREAK. OUT. Mostly, I'm frustrated that this is all my fault, since I can't keep it together and keep my head out of my body's way. Arggggh.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I get all hooked up and try to settle into some meditation (mostly focusing on the photo of Lake Placid on my banner, actually!) and trying hard to drown out the blaring noise of the galloping horse next to me (baby's heart sounds like a Dances with Wolves stampede) and the BEEP BEEP BEEP of the monitor telling me my BP is still high. This BEEP system sounds just like the ones in the movies where the spaceship is about to be attacked by martians. WARNING: SECTOR TWO MUST EVACUATE. WARNING! WARNING! WARNING!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh yeah, this is super calming....just when I think my heart is about to explode. The doctor on call comes in to tell me she's spoken with my midwife who wants to admit me and begin the prep for an induction.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;insert&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'll spare you the details of the call (in case anyone is still reading at this point) and we decide that we will a) get me some lunch b) leave me to rest quietly for a while and c) continue monitoring for a few hours before making any decisions.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nurse Nancy kindly turns down the stampede of horses soundtrack, takes the BP cuff off and Rick gets me the World's Best Turkey Sandwich.  Things are looking up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;An hour or so later, Nurse Nancy comes back in to take my blood pressure and I've dropped the number by almost 20 points. A blood pressure PR! Also, no protein in my urine, so they've ruled out the dreaded preeclampsia. Now, we wait on the blood work....which (after hours of waiting)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Comes&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Back&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;FINE!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, 7 hours later, we are back where we began the day. Diagnosis: baby is fine, mom is crazy and we are sent home with instructions to monitor my blood pressure twice daily.  No induction. No tears. No baby.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, sweet baby of mine - we hope you are enjoying your all expenses paid, luxurious tropical vacation. I know how lovely it must be. I promise though, once you are on the plane, you'll realize that you are actually looking forward to being at home. &lt;/insert&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;Even though bills and laundry await,  home is a great place to be!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt; Everyone is SO excited to meet you - they have been waiting a LONG time. We have fun times to look forward to - trips to Central Park, days at the beach, adventures in the mountains...but we can't start until you get here!  Your cozy little bed is waiting and so are we.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So hurry up!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7351287421184528625-7242386672451533392?l=heathermaloy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heathermaloy.blogspot.com/feeds/7242386672451533392/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://heathermaloy.blogspot.com/2009/08/check-out-time-is-11-am.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7351287421184528625/posts/default/7242386672451533392'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7351287421184528625/posts/default/7242386672451533392'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heathermaloy.blogspot.com/2009/08/check-out-time-is-11-am.html' title='Check out time is 11 AM.'/><author><name>MamaFeather</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_9MRI30jsL0M/Sng-955tEGI/AAAAAAAAAqg/si8Rs51S2uc/S220/img0021.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7351287421184528625.post-8647994417447135683</id><published>2009-08-04T16:27:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2009-08-04T17:29:28.329-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Internet, I'm in a MOOD.</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;Ten thoughts for the day:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. Two words: DUE DATE.&lt;br /&gt;2. Two more: No baby.&lt;br /&gt;3. In my future: birthday cake. I'm starting the party, baby or not.&lt;br /&gt;4. If one more person threatens that I won't be able to shower, eat or dress myself in the coming weeks, they are going to regret it. Are they going to cut Rick's brain out and break his arms while I am in labor? Why can't he hold the baby for 5 minutes while I brush my teeth? Am I delusional here? Wait. Don't answer that.&lt;br /&gt;5. My midwife spent twenty minutes today asking about Rick's musical taste, but still doesn't recognize me when she calls my name in the waiting room. Is it bad that I hope she's not available when I go into labor?&lt;br /&gt;6. Who declared today National Cute Sundress day? EVERY woman in NYC is rockin' her most stylish, perfectly fitting summer dress and trendy sandals.&lt;br /&gt;7. I'm stuffed into ill fitting maternity shorts....again.&lt;br /&gt;8. I need a warning sticker today. Something along the lines of BEWARE: PREGNANT AND VICIOUS.&lt;br /&gt;9. I can hear the ticking clock in the baby's room and it's driving me crazy. (And no, that is not a figurative reference. There's really a ticking clock!)&lt;br /&gt;10. Whew. Thanks, internet for letting me bitch. I feel much better now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7351287421184528625-8647994417447135683?l=heathermaloy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heathermaloy.blogspot.com/feeds/8647994417447135683/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://heathermaloy.blogspot.com/2009/08/internet-im-in-mood.html#comment-form' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7351287421184528625/posts/default/8647994417447135683'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7351287421184528625/posts/default/8647994417447135683'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heathermaloy.blogspot.com/2009/08/internet-im-in-mood.html' title='Internet, I&apos;m in a MOOD.'/><author><name>MamaFeather</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_9MRI30jsL0M/Sng-955tEGI/AAAAAAAAAqg/si8Rs51S2uc/S220/img0021.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7351287421184528625.post-4207995955226230284</id><published>2009-08-03T15:05:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2009-08-03T15:55:35.238-04:00</updated><title type='text'>The Transition</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman;"&gt;I have been superstitiously holding off on packing my hospital bag, thinking that it would give me something to do in early labor. I finally gave up the ghost last week and pulled most of my stuff together. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Could there be a more fitting use for a transition bag?!?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There was real dust on mine, but it felt so good to clean her up and get her ready for the next adventure. (I almost cried though when I found leftover snowboarding clothes from last February. Had it been that long since our last excursion?!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had to throw a few tri essentials in - a chocolate gu, a packet of peanut butter, some powdered gatorade endurance mixed with some carbo pro and two IronCocktail water bottles. I'll have some other light snacks around too, but you never know when you'll need instant, easily digestible calories! Digging through the nutrition bin was like seeing an old boss, "It's &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;great&lt;/span&gt; to see you! It never crossed my mind that I would actually &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;miss&lt;/span&gt; you when you weren't around!!!" &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It is absolutely bizarre to pack baby clothes though - especially knowing one set will come home unworn! Tomorrow is my due date and it just doesn't seem possible that we'll ever actually get to meet this little person.  Rick is watching my every move, waiting for some sign that This. Is. It.  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman;"&gt;He just made us a dinner reservation at Otto (olive oil gelato = love) for tomorrow night so we can have a birthday party.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;font-size:130%;" &gt;HEAR THAT, KID?!? We're celebrating your birthday with or without you!!! HURRY IT UP!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7351287421184528625-4207995955226230284?l=heathermaloy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heathermaloy.blogspot.com/feeds/4207995955226230284/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://heathermaloy.blogspot.com/2009/08/transition.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7351287421184528625/posts/default/4207995955226230284'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7351287421184528625/posts/default/4207995955226230284'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heathermaloy.blogspot.com/2009/08/transition.html' title='The Transition'/><author><name>MamaFeather</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_9MRI30jsL0M/Sng-955tEGI/AAAAAAAAAqg/si8Rs51S2uc/S220/img0021.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7351287421184528625.post-1329027961198460275</id><published>2009-08-01T22:46:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2009-08-02T16:20:16.610-04:00</updated><title type='text'>The Set-Up</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman;"&gt;I had a long discussion with Katie yesterday to the tune of - &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-family: times new roman;"&gt;why IM, why now&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman;"&gt;? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-family: times new roman;"&gt;Why not set myself up for something with a more plausible chance of success?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman;"&gt;While a small part of me recognizes that as a smart strategy, I'm not inclined to spend much time on the thought. I'd already considered the safer, more realistic options - a spring marathon, a fast Olympic, a solid 70.3, but none were inspiring to me.  They certainly seem exciting as I'm still trapped in this duplex condo of a body, but in terms of really moving me...nothing came close.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman;"&gt;Looking at my fears and worries for 2010 and comparing them to those I faced two years ago I realized something important.  I have the luxury of knowing at least one of the curveballs that's about to be thrown at me. Part of the challenge of setting such long-term, large goals is accepting the surprises that life throws your way. A friend of mine's roommate died on their couch a little more than a month from this year's race.  How did that affect her ability to train and race effectively? Had she seen it coming, would she not have signed up in the first place? What about losing your job mid-season? Getting injured? Sure, these are all things that can derail your plan to make it to the start line and achieve the goals you set for yourself, but to not set them because something MIGHT happen? That, to me, seems cowardly.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman;"&gt;Could I be setting mysef up for failure? Yes, I suppose so. But to not even make the attempt, based only on the fear of the unknown would have been a much bigger failure&lt;/span&gt; for me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In the meantime, we're totally immersed in the waiting game. I feel like a kid on a car trip -&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Are we there yet?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Are we there yet?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Argh. Let's get this show on the road kid!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7351287421184528625-1329027961198460275?l=heathermaloy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heathermaloy.blogspot.com/feeds/1329027961198460275/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://heathermaloy.blogspot.com/2009/08/set-up.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7351287421184528625/posts/default/1329027961198460275'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7351287421184528625/posts/default/1329027961198460275'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heathermaloy.blogspot.com/2009/08/set-up.html' title='The Set-Up'/><author><name>MamaFeather</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_9MRI30jsL0M/Sng-955tEGI/AAAAAAAAAqg/si8Rs51S2uc/S220/img0021.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7351287421184528625.post-1310745142616014972</id><published>2009-07-30T19:55:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2009-08-01T09:11:16.750-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Why?</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;I'm not sure anyone can ever accurately answer that question when it comes to Ironman - at least for me, it's a list of reasons too long to number. If I picture says a thousand words, then this should sum it up pretty well.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;object width="320" height="266" class="BLOG_video_class" id="BLOG_video-520951aeb3ce333" classid="clsid:D27CDB6E-AE6D-11cf-96B8-444553540000" codebase="http://download.macromedia.com/pub/shockwave/cabs/flash/swflash.cab#version=6,0,40,0"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/get_player"&gt;&lt;param name="bgcolor" value="#FFFFFF"&gt;&lt;param name="allowfullscreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;param name="flashvars" value="flvurl=http://v13.nonxt2.googlevideo.com/videoplayback?id%3D0520951aeb3ce333%26itag%3D5%26app%3Dblogger%26ip%3D0.0.0.0%26ipbits%3D0%26expire%3D1331805721%26sparams%3Did,itag,ip,ipbits,expire%26signature%3D2B20C4C7BFEF604F4BD9E3C022B31C5CBA4DFC06.4A1955A131474F5A27B687DEBF33154295E8B3%26key%3Dck1&amp;amp;iurl=http://video.google.com/ThumbnailServer2?app%3Dblogger%26contentid%3D520951aeb3ce333%26offsetms%3D5000%26itag%3Dw160%26sigh%3DbHBrYoa6gudOFJt2LF0DEz6ak60&amp;amp;autoplay=0&amp;amp;ps=blogger"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/get_player" type="application/x-shockwave-flash"width="320" height="266" bgcolor="#FFFFFF"flashvars="flvurl=http://v13.nonxt2.googlevideo.com/videoplayback?id%3D0520951aeb3ce333%26itag%3D5%26app%3Dblogger%26ip%3D0.0.0.0%26ipbits%3D0%26expire%3D1331805721%26sparams%3Did,itag,ip,ipbits,expire%26signature%3D2B20C4C7BFEF604F4BD9E3C022B31C5CBA4DFC06.4A1955A131474F5A27B687DEBF33154295E8B3%26key%3Dck1&amp;iurl=http://video.google.com/ThumbnailServer2?app%3Dblogger%26contentid%3D520951aeb3ce333%26offsetms%3D5000%26itag%3Dw160%26sigh%3DbHBrYoa6gudOFJt2LF0DEz6ak60&amp;autoplay=0&amp;ps=blogger"allowFullScreen="true" /&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7351287421184528625-1310745142616014972?l=heathermaloy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='enclosure' type='video/mp4' href='http://www.blogger.com/video-play.mp4?contentId=520951aeb3ce333&amp;type=video%2Fmp4' length='0'/><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heathermaloy.blogspot.com/feeds/1310745142616014972/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://heathermaloy.blogspot.com/2009/07/why.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7351287421184528625/posts/default/1310745142616014972'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7351287421184528625/posts/default/1310745142616014972'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heathermaloy.blogspot.com/2009/07/why.html' title='Why?'/><author><name>MamaFeather</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_9MRI30jsL0M/Sng-955tEGI/AAAAAAAAAqg/si8Rs51S2uc/S220/img0021.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7351287421184528625.post-5998085280042843044</id><published>2009-07-29T21:24:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2009-07-29T21:47:21.699-04:00</updated><title type='text'>The Compelling Argument</title><content type='html'>I hadn't really shared my thoughts on IM 2010 with anyone because I really didn't think it was an option. The on-site registration, it seemed, would fill all race slots as it has in the past few years and I didn't really want to get my hopes up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At home though, we've been joking all along that the plan was Ironman, Baby, Ironman, Baby, Ironman, Baby. (This was before I got pregnant and started seriously considering 'one and done.' Only children can be incredibly well-adjusted, right??!?)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Once the deed was done and I'd announced The Plan (to you and THE ENTIRE INTERNET),  I was faced with the daunting task of convincing my coaches (among others) that my decision is NOT, as Scott put it, "due to limited blood supply to your brain and likely pressure on other vital organs that affect rational decision making process."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm still waiting to hear back from them (this is part of their mental game). I still need to expand the list of &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;why's &lt;/span&gt;and &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;how's&lt;/span&gt; because I know there are things I missed here. Of course, so there are so many items which will have to be added once The Dude arrives, but it isn't worth worrying about until we're on the other side.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Without further ado, I give you...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;u style="font-family: times new roman; font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;A Compelling Argument for My Selection to 2010 IronTeam&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/u&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;span style="font-family: times new roman; font-style: italic;"&gt;Trying to convince coaches of my coach-a-bility for 2010 prior to today seemed like wishful thinking, as it was likely I would not be able to get an entry online. Even now, it seems almost insane, as I sit here watching and waiting for any sign that this baby will join us soon. The inevitability is what is keeping me sane. With a week left to go before the due date and a midwife who thinks 'the sooner the better' I know it's a matter of days. Babies can't stay inside forever. (My official due date is 8/4.) &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman; font-style: italic;"&gt;So...the compelling argument. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;b style="font-family: times new roman; font-style: italic;"&gt;I.  The Athlete Support System&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman; font-style: italic;"&gt;It begins with a fortuitious online entry slot, thanks to the speedy internet refreshing skills of my husband. Ironman in any form requires 100% commitment from the Support Crew, so for months now, we've tried to work through the scenarios which make this commitment possible.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;span style="font-family: times new roman; font-style: italic;"&gt;     1. I am not going back to work. I quit my job as of 5/29 and am now a stay-at-home mom. A luxury, a joy, a blessing. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;span style="font-family: times new roman; font-style: italic;"&gt;     2. Rick works from home, is his own boss and has the life most people dream of. Work when there is work to be done. Otherwise, play, train or (from what I can tell) nap.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;span style="font-family: times new roman; font-style: italic;"&gt;     3. A husband who is dedicated to triathlon and running but doesn't like to go long, is the perfect match for the wife who loves to go long and the lifestyle that comes with it. Training time is respected and supported. Luckily enough, dedication to family and mother/father/husband/wife roles is the same - responsibililty is split evenly. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;span style="font-family: times new roman; font-style: italic;"&gt;     3. The stay at home family has 100% flexibility of childcare, training time and work/life balance. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman; font-style: italic;"&gt;These elements add up to be a HUGE advantage to the IronMom, unlike IronBride, who, in addition to a strict, demanding work schedule, is often required to spend time away for wedding planning, travel, honeymoon, etc.&lt;/span&gt; &lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;b style="font-family: times new roman; font-style: italic;"&gt;II.   Fitness - the Reality Check&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman; font-style: italic;"&gt;     The unknown is the biggest factor in this challenge. The facts are: with dedication the fitness levels will come back. With time and effort the weight will come off. With patience and extreme caution, strength will return and can (and should) prevent injury with a safe, gradual build to pre-pregnancy fitness levels. The unknown elements - assumption of uncomplicated birth, speed of post-partum recovery and ability to assimilate a baby into our lives and eventually our lives into baby's.  My thoughts/plan of action:&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;span style="font-family: times new roman; font-style: italic;"&gt;     1. Walking,swimming and core work will begin immediately post partum for mom's sanity, safe weight loss and return to positive fitness state.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;span style="font-family: times new roman; font-style: italic;"&gt;     2. Biking on a trainer will begin as soon as 'comfortable' (with medical approval, of course.) Additionally, yoga or pilates are in my 'return to fitness' regime.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;span style="font-family: times new roman; font-style: italic;"&gt;     3. Running and walk/running will begin slowly with medical approval, as appropriate as strength and core increase. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;span style="font-family: times new roman; font-style: italic;"&gt;     4. Strength training and sport specific excercises, will also resume as soon as medical approval. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman; font-style: italic;"&gt;Most important for me is to return safely to pre-pregnancy fitness levels - injury free - with a positive outcome, both emotionally and physically. I want to begin this journey back into my body with joy and recognize that energy levels, sleep, nutrition will all impact the day-to-day outcome. In my eyes, beginning Ironman training with a solid base of strength, injury free and mentally fresh will be a huge advantage. In terms of sport specific requirements - a strong base of swimming, moderate ability/endurance on the bike should put me on the same level with many new Lifers. Again, the run is slightly more of a mystery. Assuming 100% birth recovery it seems reasonable to assume that I would be on target for 60+ minutes on my feet by October, adding both mileage and intensity as appropriate through the fall. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt; &lt;b style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman,serif;"&gt;III. The Heart of the Matter&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman,serif; font-style: italic;"&gt;     We've talked before of the escapist/control issues that come with IM training. A year on the sidelines has given me a perspective that I had not previously had. Training is a part of me, of my life. It is and never has been 100% of my life. I'm too rational to get caught in that game. The sense of freedom brought by physical strength is something I miss more than I imagined I could. The joy of having a goal and working towards it is immessurable. By far, the challenge of 'constant forward motion' of the millions of small, seemingly insignficant decisions that in total add up to success- is my favorite aspect of training. Ironman is a journey made up of those small moments, and because of those, I know that I can, in 11 months + 28 days, complete my second IMLP. Of course, this time around, those millions of moments will be absolutely and totally different from the million tiny challenges I faced last time, but in my heart, I believe that with a positive attitude, a commitment to finding the joy in each step, this journey is 100% possible. I've never missed practice because of a sick baby, but I never have to get stuck at the office on a Tuesday night either. My 'early' Saturday wake-up calls may now seem like a HUGE luxury when I can sleep in until 5:30. The unknown is the best part. What little miracles await? What million challenges do I get to face and overcome this time? &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7351287421184528625-5998085280042843044?l=heathermaloy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heathermaloy.blogspot.com/feeds/5998085280042843044/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://heathermaloy.blogspot.com/2009/07/compelling-argument.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7351287421184528625/posts/default/5998085280042843044'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7351287421184528625/posts/default/5998085280042843044'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heathermaloy.blogspot.com/2009/07/compelling-argument.html' title='The Compelling Argument'/><author><name>MamaFeather</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_9MRI30jsL0M/Sng-955tEGI/AAAAAAAAAqg/si8Rs51S2uc/S220/img0021.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7351287421184528625.post-726410978769847964</id><published>2009-07-29T00:20:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2009-07-29T22:40:40.738-04:00</updated><title type='text'>And the goblins gonna getcha...</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.cardcow.com/images/set247/thumbs/card00248_fr.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 250px; height: 160px;" src="http://www.cardcow.com/images/set247/thumbs/card00248_fr.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;Why is it that the demons in your head only come out at night?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I should be fast asleep right now, my whale of a body nestled into a cradle of supportive pillows. Instead I'm yawning on the couch, wondering what sort of fool signs up for an &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Ironman&lt;/span&gt; before even having the baby? I think I need to go back and re-read My Plan and maybe attack some of the obnoxious remarks these nighttime demons are making.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am certain I'll be spending a lot of midnight moments on this couch in the upcoming months, and I'll be damned if the goblins are going to get me. I can do whatever I put my mind to. I can make it work if I want to. I can be a new mom and a triathlete at the same time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So take that, demons!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Off to build my pillow nest now. Will this baby EVER get here??????&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7351287421184528625-726410978769847964?l=heathermaloy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heathermaloy.blogspot.com/feeds/726410978769847964/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://heathermaloy.blogspot.com/2009/07/and-goblins-gonna-getcha.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7351287421184528625/posts/default/726410978769847964'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7351287421184528625/posts/default/726410978769847964'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heathermaloy.blogspot.com/2009/07/and-goblins-gonna-getcha.html' title='And the goblins gonna getcha...'/><author><name>MamaFeather</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_9MRI30jsL0M/Sng-955tEGI/AAAAAAAAAqg/si8Rs51S2uc/S220/img0021.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7351287421184528625.post-5098784892831413285</id><published>2009-07-28T11:14:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2009-07-28T11:40:52.404-04:00</updated><title type='text'>When is MY wave start?</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman;"&gt;Today officially marks 39 weeks. Tick tock. Tick tock. I'm amazed at how much easier the waiting has become now that I have something else to think and worry about. Maybe I should have signed up for an Ironman months ago. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman;"&gt;The funny thing is I keep joking how much the end of pregnancy is just like a race - the taper leaves you feeling antsy and slightly &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-family: times new roman;"&gt;off.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman;"&gt; Not exactly injured or sick, but certainly that lingering suspicion that your body is somehow not ready for the miles ahead, and that each tiny ache is really a bigger problem hidden away to discover once you are deep into the race.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman;"&gt;Unlike a traditional race though, you are constantly stumbling around looking for the start line, waiting on someone to announce the race date and gun time. All the other age group waves have been sent except for my own. So I continue to try to stay hydrated, keep my muscles warm and diligently maintain my nutrition plan. Out of superstition, I haven't packed my bag. What a weird way to start a race.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: times new roman;"&gt;The countdown is on. Tick tock. Tick tock.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7351287421184528625-5098784892831413285?l=heathermaloy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heathermaloy.blogspot.com/feeds/5098784892831413285/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://heathermaloy.blogspot.com/2009/07/when-is-my-wave-start.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7351287421184528625/posts/default/5098784892831413285'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7351287421184528625/posts/default/5098784892831413285'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heathermaloy.blogspot.com/2009/07/when-is-my-wave-start.html' title='When is MY wave start?'/><author><name>MamaFeather</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_9MRI30jsL0M/Sng-955tEGI/AAAAAAAAAqg/si8Rs51S2uc/S220/img0021.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7351287421184528625.post-8633218129465446363</id><published>2009-07-27T17:15:00.005-04:00</published><updated>2009-08-01T08:28:27.625-04:00</updated><title type='text'>A Very Good Place to Start</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_9MRI30jsL0M/SnEF8r4XRpI/AAAAAAAAAp8/kkEX1Uplu24/s1600-h/img0021.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 215px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_9MRI30jsL0M/SnEF8r4XRpI/AAAAAAAAAp8/kkEX1Uplu24/s320/img0021.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5364075171304392338" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:times ms;font-size:100%;"  &gt;Thirty eight weeks and six days.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Waiting.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Waiting.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Waiting.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Soon?" everyone asks. Yes, soon. Because every minute that goes by is closer to the start. This baby has to arrive eventually and so, "soon" is, I suppose, correct.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But it's not just the delivery room start line I'm waiting on. By some act of grace, today I was able to get an online entry to &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Ironman&lt;/span&gt; USA 2010. I'll be lining up again under the flags with a not-yet 1 year old and a body that went from baby to iron(&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;ish&lt;/span&gt;) in less than 365 days.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And I can't stop grinning.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can't help but to wonder how many times in the next year I will say to myself that this is a Historically Bad Idea, but right now it seems just...well, just right.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My journal entry from August 29, 2008 sums it up nicely...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;div  style="text-align: center;font-family:times ms;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:100%;" &gt;&lt;span&gt;I spent the evening at the bookstore looking for titles that don't exist. Titles like "Heather, Here is Your Path&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:100%;" &gt;&lt;span&gt; to God and Enlightenment." Also, the ever &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;popular bestseller&lt;/span&gt; "&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;Ironman&lt;/span&gt; or Baby: You Choose &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:100%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Easily with Our  Ten Quizzes."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;   &lt;span style=";font-family:times ms;font-size:100%;"  &gt;&lt;br /&gt;I continue a few pages later -&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;So which will it be? Baby bottles or water bottles? Spandex shorts or elastic waistbands? Either way, I can expect: very early mornings, lame Friday nights, no wine,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-size:100%;" &gt;a sore crotch and a sore back.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;   &lt;span style=";font-family:times ms;font-size:100%;"  &gt;&lt;br /&gt;So - I shelved my &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;IM&lt;/span&gt; '09 plans and my Pills. My last journal entry was October 14&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;th&lt;/span&gt; - by November I was pregnant. Thirty-eight weeks later, here I am. The newest &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;wheelset&lt;/span&gt; in our house is a stroller and my feet are so swollen that I've had to remove the liners from my &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;Asics&lt;/span&gt; in order to wear them. Not having even started yet with baby bottles or the sore crotch, but deeply entrenched in elastic waistbands, no wine and lame Friday nights, I turn my sights BACK to &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;Ironman&lt;/span&gt; and the start lines that I know are out there......somewhere.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And. So. We. Wait.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style=";font-family:times;font-size:100%;"  &gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7351287421184528625-8633218129465446363?l=heathermaloy.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://heathermaloy.blogspot.com/feeds/8633218129465446363/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://heathermaloy.blogspot.com/2009/07/very-good-place-to-start_8598.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7351287421184528625/posts/default/8633218129465446363'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7351287421184528625/posts/default/8633218129465446363'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://heathermaloy.blogspot.com/2009/07/very-good-place-to-start_8598.html' title='A Very Good Place to Start'/><author><name>MamaFeather</name><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='22' height='32' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_9MRI30jsL0M/Sng-955tEGI/AAAAAAAAAqg/si8Rs51S2uc/S220/img0021.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_9MRI30jsL0M/SnEF8r4XRpI/AAAAAAAAAp8/kkEX1Uplu24/s72-c/img0021.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry></feed>
