Mark Gives it a TRI

So what do you do when you decide you want to get into better shape? Join a gym? Call Jenny Craig? Start counting calories? These all sound like fine solutions to me but apparently not to Mark. Months ago Mark came home and announced his new radical plan for getting into better shape: He got online and registered for a triathlon.
For his very first Tri, he picked one in the lovely setting of Vernal Utah, population 7,714 and home of a serious plethora of what appears to be giant paper mache dinosaurs all in homage to the extinct beasts that once roamed its high desert valleys. As we make the drive, I begin to wonder if holding an endurance race in an area that's got such a harsh climate that it killed off formidable Jurassic creatures is really a smart idea.
As you can tell by the naive smile on Mark's face, this thought has eluded him. Here he is joyously filling out the paperwork the day before the race. No need for subtle foreshadowing about the events that you are about to read. You and I both know the grin in this photo will soon be diabolically sweated off his face...
And now for a few interesting complexities for those of you unfamiliar with triathlon racing...(this category would also include both of us.)

Because this is an event in which entails various outfits and footwear, racers get to enjoy a little permanent marker tattooing. Each arm gets your race number boldly printed on it while your calves get marked with the event you are racing on the left calf and your age on the right one. The letter stands for the event: "O" stands for "Olympic Triathlon" and the "S" stands for the "Sprint" race, which is half the distance in each event- Swimming, Cycling, and Running. It is interesting to see that this is the one time people are proud to be older and not younger. Mark admitted that several times during the race he would check to see the age of the racer he was passing and if said racer was younger he was sure to flash and flaunt his right calf at them so they'd know that just got passed by "an old guy". And yes, those are Mark's tale-tell legs pictured on the left.

The next interesting issue is what I call the "logistics race", this takes place the night before the actual race. When you enter a standard running race, my guess is that you lace up your shoes, put your number on and run. This Tri deal is a whole different scenario altogether. The evening before the race Mark and I were going through each part of the race blow by blow in order to get it all set up smoothly. It was a race in and of itself. The Tri starts with the swimming so you've got to set out your wetsuit, goggles, and swim cap. Then just up from the swim docks you need to bring your bike, helmet, water bottles, and then rubber band your riding shoes into an upright position locked onto your pedals and have them ready at station 2.
Then, hopefully you haven't forgotten anything for the cycle event before you drive off to set up station 3 where you set out your running shoes and sox and maybe some energy goo...oh yeah, and a baseball hat. Hopefully you'll remember where you set them out because once you've swam through a gauntlet of racers, deliriously crawled out of the water and make your way up the steep boat ramp to your bike, strip off your wet suit and ride your bike for 26 oh-so refreshing miles, you are not thinking too clearly as to where you set your shoes out for the running portion of the event at station 3.
Luckily for Mark, we all decided to make our own cheering section across from his running shoes so he was sure to find them right away. We camped out and waited for him to arrive. The kids spent their time working on posters and signs to hold up for him when he showed up.

Finally, Mark came though on his bike! I'm not sure how he found the energy to wave to the camera but he did it.

He hopped off the bike onto weak legs that were suffering from muscle confusion (are we swimming? biking? now you want me to run?). He hung up his bike and grabbed his running shoes and off he went...

We gathered up our signs and headed to the high school stadium where the finish line waited. Many racers from the shorter race were already coming though. We cheered as an 82-year old grandmother crossed the finish line, her first-ever sprint triathlon.

Finally, Mark rounded the corner and made his way onto the track. The kids were so excited and they ran out and ran him in. This is Chloe and niece Cailey running him towards the finish line.


And here's the Big Finish! That grin in the pictures several paragraphs ago, it was no where to be seen on his face. I think it sweated off during the first lap of the lake event.


Mark places SECOND in his age division.



Checking the times...and here with Mitchell who refused to make a sign out of his posterboard. Mitchell has to do everything in 3-D so he sat along the road, waited for his dad, and made a poster board trophy for him while he waited.


The last laugh was had by the kids. Vernal's Dino Tri is a family event, so while we all waited for the racers to come through they held a bunch of races for the kids.

Each child that raced got a metal just like the Triathletes! So much for the glory of the medal, Mark could have saved himself a lot of time and torture and run with the kids! Mark didn't want to talk about racing for the rest of the day but this morning, he was back online searching for another race...this time threatening to sign up the whole family! (I think I'd'rather hold a sign...stay tuned.)

Turning Nine...How Divine

True to fashion, we celebrated Chloe's ninth birthday..."Chloe Style" which is to say, is not "Stacy Style". My kinda birthday involves activities like sleeping in, lounging about, reading, and eating copious amounts of partially hydrogenated trans fats. A Chloe kinda birthday starts at the crack of dawn. Since the day she was born she has kept a regimented schedule fully living the mantra "early to bed early to rise", much to my night-owl chagrin. Each morning at precisely 6:30, Chloe is up and greeting the new day with song and smiles and by 8:30 each evening, she'll pronounce a "good night" and put herself to bed. This morning was no different. At 6:30am she threw open our bedroom door, announced it was her birthday, and said, "I'm ready to open my presents!" Five minutes later, amidst a swirl of colored tissue paper, the major portion of standard birthday rituals were finished, done, complete. All that was left was the cake and candles and it wasn't even breakfast!

Chloe was born totally bald (with little prospect for hair in the foreseen future) with two fingers in her mouth and one hand ready to slap you should you offend her in any way. Although she is small and delicate looking she has always been fully capable of defending herself from her three older siblings-each of whom have all experienced the pain and tragedy that comes from futile attempts at taking advantage of her. Chloe is focused, self-scheduled, and totally organized. She never forgets time, date, appointment, or even a passing promise.















Always the fashion-ista, Chloe is willing to offer advice and free consultations on fashion and the proper application of lipsmackers lipgloss. Here, she helps her cousin bring out her understated beauty. Through the magic of Chloe's make-up artistry, a brave Madi patiently undergoes a Tammy Faye Baker transformation.

Chloe's always had an unexplainable fondness for Gorillas and Monkeys. Two things I've always hated. She sleeps cuddled up with a giant gorilla that scares the heck out of most people, me included. Not your cute and cuddly kind of crush if you ask me. Frankly I'm a little worried she's gonna grow up and marry an unusually hairy man. yikes!

Chloe's also got a natural inclination for fun and danger. Once, after begging for a new pink motorcycle helmet, Chloe happened to roll her quad which resulted in the crushing of her existing blue helmet. The crash gave us quite a scare, but not Chloe, she quickly crawled out from under her quad, held up her split helmet and said, "Can I get a pink one now??". She's always the first one to try almost anything. She was the first (and only) child to volunteer to be the guinea pig for Mark's bungee jumping plot/fiasco when he asked the kids if they wanted to try a jump from the second story banister with some weird-fangled exercise band he found. After that debacle Chloe now asks a few more detailed questions before subjecting herself to her father's crazy ideas...which she'll usually try anyway!

It's been a fun nine years with this adventurous girl! Happy Birthday Chloe!

Oh The Things They'll Do

Summer is officially here! Not so much in the weather department (its rained every darn day) but as for school, it has officially let out and we've declared our right to summer by wearing our shorts and flip flops no matter how much it rains!

Summer around our house used to be a mixed bag of tricks. Mostly days of carefree fun sprinkled with a little boredom and a titch of the mundane. We learned early on that summer smiles can quickly turn into torturous tedium which signals the start of the cantankerous crooning of those two dreaded words “I'M BORED!”. Luckily, at the Skillman house, this sentence is rarely heard anymore and, if by chance uttered, it’s done in a hushed whisper amongst siblings and never in the presence of a parent! How’s this done? It’s quite simple really. According to the Skillman’s Family Rules of Conduct: “Any child found uttering the dreadful words “I’m bored” has plenty of time on their hands in which to scrub a toilet!”

So on our first official day without school, I heard Connor and Chloe downstairs happily entertaining themselves. To avoid the dread of latex gloves and comet, they have learned to make fun where it doesn’t exist. After an hour of giggles, they bound up the stairs looking like this...
They've decided the cat might need an outfit too, I'll keep you posted on that frightening situation. As for why we’ve got neon duct tape around the house, that is another blog in itself...

He Admits Defeat

Some of our favorite family adventures occur in a giant sandbox called The Dunes. We'd never even noticed this part of the Oregon Coast before our friends the Sharps lured us there six years ago, and we've been hooked ever since. Over Memorial Day weekend, we loaded up the trailer and headed out to meet up with our friends for a weekend of fun. Little did we know, we would witness a rarely seen event...the amusing defeat of a Dune Master.

From start to finish, going to the dunes is always an entertaining mix of thrills, spills, and deflated wheels. Towing heavy trailers on windy coastal roads and narrow bridges is always an adventure, but doesn't even come close to the ultimate challenge of towing what's basically a portable garage out into a precariously sandy camp site. To do this you've got to purge the vessel of it's contents, let most of the air out of the tires (Yes, that's right, purposely deflate your tires!) and with full-throttle, hit the sand like you're running from the law (in this case it would be the law of gravity). Although we had a nice wide open campsite, as you see deceptively pictured here, it was anything but easy to get into. In fact, the last time we camped here a few years back, Grampa Bear had a side-view mirror ripped off by a tree, Ken Guerra had his trailer smashed up, and Mark, as always, had to be towed in by Mont Sharp. Damage to your truck or trailer or even both are considered badges of honor out at the Dunes but no one likes to be in the awkward position of needing to be towed at the dunes, it is a great scandal among men, considered to be the ultimate dune disgrace! But, in a miraculous turn of events, this time Mark and the trailer made it through the gauntlet of sand, trees, and steep slopes unscathed and all on his own. Shockingly, it was Mont, a.k.a "The Dune Master" who got stuck. To witness such a spectacle, I must admit, was an awkward but delightful surprise. The great Mont Sharp, the Dune Master himself, the man who is always getting the Skillmans out of trouble, now in need of a tow! We tried our hardest to appear grim-faced at his precarious predicament but inside we relished every bit of it!

Check out this very narrow passage that the trailers have to thread through to get out into the camp site. This is the same tree we now call "The Can Opener" because it peeled back part of the roof of Ken's trailer. If you look close you can see the mark on the tree.



Here's how close Mont came to smashing his poor trailer into this tree.






Luckily for Mont, his troubles only resulted in the loss of a vent cover you see here.It was scraped off by a tree on the other side. A little hot glue and it should be like new, right?




Despite the hardships Mont suffered getting into our campsite, and the miraculous ease at which the Skillmans enjoyed threading though, once we get settled into camp it's time to do what we came for...RIDE! We've got all kinds of rides: family rides, night rides, a ride for just the wives, the ride to the beach ride, and even an "adults ride the little kids quads and hurt themselves ride, but the fiercest of all them is what we call "The Boys Ride". These rides are strictly men-only for good reason. The pace at which they ride is for the mentally insane. When a new male comes to camp who's a first-time rider we warn them that this might not be the best introductory tour of dune riding and caution them against going for this ride. Most men can't summon the courage to suffer the humiliation of admitting their amateur riding status because it would require them to stay back at camp with a bunch of girls. Amidst the intoxicating delirium of testosterone, every new rider will suit up and head out for the boys ride keeping their inexperience to themselves. Unfortunately for them, their little secret isn't kept for long as they all too quickly show back up at camp having gotten lost, scared, or in need of stitches-and sometimes all three.

Sometime during the weekend a couples ride will take place. Here's Deanne and I all ready to go (and yes mom, we wear our helmets). We have become a bit weary about couples rides these days, they sound like a great time to take a leisurely ride out in the sand with your spouse, but this is NOT the case. Deanne and I were a little slow to discover the REAL truth behind the "couples ride". It is actually a conspiracy of the most diabolical kind. We wives mistakenly thought it was a sweet gesture by the husbands to go with their wives on a fun outing without the kids. This is not the case at all. Our discovery came after a particularly grueling ride that seemed treacherously fast and our having to stand on the pegs almost the entire time. When the boys finally let us stop for a little mid-ride breather, I was out of breath as if I'd been sprinting and when I finally caught my breath I said, "Man you guys are going really fast, I can barely keep up!" Out of the corner of my eye I see the husbands hiding devious grins. Deanne and I looked at them, then at each other and wondered what was going on. It was then they admitted the real truth behind their scheme. Apparently, according to Mont himself, the couples ride is designed to "increase the caliber of the wives riding skills". So much for the notion that they simply enjoyed our company!

Thank goodness for the family rides. They're a little less "testosterone induced" although each ride seems to increase in speed as the weekend progresses.




Some hill climbing.







In between rides we often find inventive ways to pass the time. Here's a game of sand baseball. A little caution here, as your glove will never be totally rid of sand once you play on this field, nor will your shoes or ears.



We also like to golf since you only need to bring your nine iron, since it's just one giant sand trap out there...






Next came barrel racing, a new sport brought to the dunes by a few bored racers amongst our group. Of course, you'll notice our version of barrel racing is done around flags and not barrels, but calling it "flag racing" apparently doesn't pass the "testosterone test".



Here's Chloe giving it a try...she actually made better time than her own mother. I'd like to think my eight year old out-raced me because her quad is a lot smaller than mine but I think the real reason is that her quad REALLY IS a lot smaller (it couldn't be that she was actually faster than me, could it?).


Mont gives it a try or two or three...four...five...six times, and still doesn't qualify for the best time! The Dune Master, already humbled by needing a tow now loses to a 16-year old kid. On his first attempt Mitchell came out the clear winner...that is until Mark, determined to outrace his son, repeatedly tried over and over until he made the best time (not bad for a forty-something year old guy on his 12th try).


Once the winner was declared, I captured this amazing footage of Mont the Dune Master (that's like a Jedi Knight of the Dunes)and his ultimate surrender. Be sure to play it over and over like we do, because this is rare footage.


As if things couldn't get more humiliating, Mont also had to be towed back out of the dunes. May I add, victoriously, that this is the first time the Skillmans didn't need a tow at all. (Que the video!)