The longest race!

The mister and I just completed an incredibly intense adventure trail running race.

Whew.

It was one of those races that was sort of secretive in that you really didn't know the course ahead of time. We were excited but also a wee bit wary. I mean, how do you train for what you don't know?

True to form it was hard. Really really hard.

There were climbs that made my heart feel like it was going to explode right out of my chest. Then there were downhills where they posted a black double arrow down sign on a tree (that you may or may not see) to signal rough terrain ahead.

Rough? Ahem.

We were slip sliding and skidding and falling and catching ourselves and did I mention tripping? And it hurt, because we both fell hard a few times. Really hard. I gashed myself a few times on rocks--major bleeding-- and so did the Mister. Those are gonna leave scars.

Then there were more hills. Did I mention the hills? No amount of training could have prepared our lungs for the hills! I felt like I couldn't breathe, like I needed an oxygen mask. So much for thinking I was in shape!

There were water crossing! Sheesh. The water was rushing and we had to figure out how the hell to get across without going in. We were a soggy, defeated mess.

I wanted to walk. The mister pushed me on. Then he wanted to walk, and I pushed him on. On the tough climbs he pulled me along and if he could've carried me on his back believe me, I would've let him!

Part of the mystery was not knowing the distance. That's scary stuff for a race. I'm ok with short-ish runs but I am no marathoner. I usually max out at 7-8 miles. I guess that's why we had to sign our lives away on consent forms...in case one of us actually died during the race well, it would be nobody's fault but our own. What kind of fools are we?

We didn't win the so-called prize. We didn't even come close.

When we got to the finish line there wasn't anyone actually cheering us across. Sucked big time, because I was visualizing that finish line with all the crowds lining the path, cheering us and slapping us on our backs, propelling me forward those last few steps and then celebrating the victory with us.

When we went through what we THOUGHT was the finish line, we saw our time (dismal) and looked around.

And that's when we saw it.

The sign.

"Second half of race THIS WAY."

STFU.

There is more?

And it turned out to be a mountain biking race, for which we had not really trained....

So we looked at each other and smiled, shaking our heads. After chowing down on some mega-reinforcements, giving each other a "we're in this together" pep talk, we donned our helmets and got on the bikes.

We're still on the bikes....

We're adopting!




Much much more to come on this--a whole backwards posting probably of how we came to this decision and the mega process that has taken place--but for now, we'll just leave it with 'the news.'

*And thanks to Brenda, who a long time ago made a similar analogy about going from IF treatment into adoption, and it just stuck in my brain and came out here :)

OKGo and Damian Kulash...and sleep deprivation.

So where were you Wednesday/Thursday at 2:00 am?

Because I was somewhere I am probably too old to be...out on the main club strip in our beautiful city, waiting outside of a tour bus so I could talk with my favorite singer.

Yes, you know the one....plus I kinda gave it away in the post title, no?

Damian Kulash of OKGo.

I think that was my 9th time to see them. And I have met/talked with him after every show except one (the first one, where I was too smitten and dorky to form a complete sentence). As I posed for the picture with him I said "I have to get my yearly pic with you...but each one I just look older and cragglier and you just look the same, but with different hair." He laughed and said he was getting older and cragglier too, but really? I don't think so.

The show was great. They're great. He's great. And yes, Mr. LC knows about the crush. He took the picture and also brought along a nifty little gadget known as a Pico Paso (crazy little electronica noise making musical thingamagig) to show Damian. So he's ok with said crush. We ended up giving the Pico Paso to him (that's what he's holding in the photo). Like a true musical nerd/genius he was more thrilled with that little gadget than the praise we were giving him for his performance.

Am I a fangirl? Absolutely. I claim it. I own it. I don't deny it. Maybe it keeps me young (er)?

BUT, all that being said I felt old. Old old old standing around by a tour bus amongst a bunch of teeny-agers, some of whom were with their parents. Gah. If I had been fertile and started youngish, I could have been their Mom. Gulp.

And I felt especially old yesterday morning when my alarm went off at 5:45 am after only 3.5 hours of sleep. And when I had a full day of patients--who seemed particularly challenging and not because of lack of sleep (I promise, I kept on my game).

But sleep deprivation--isn't that what all of us IFers crave? Interrupted, non-solid, no good REM sleep?

So I'm just going to chalk this up to practice. Training....for what is surely to come, some way, some how, no?

I'll leave you with the pic. And let it be said that HE was hugging ME that tightly...I did not in any way shape or form force myself on him....and really, it was the excitement over the PicoPaso....

Are chocolate dipped strawberries healthy? And a thanks.

First of all, thank you.

There really isn't much more I can say other than that, without becoming a soggy, emotional mess. But your comments, emails....left me in happy tears. Honestly, I would've thought my dorky video would have elicited more reaction than the last post, but I am now seeing that my dorkiness is part of it all...the fact that we're still alive and smiling and acting like fools despite IF. So for you ladies, my foolishness will go on :)

Thank you.

I have other posts that must be posted, soon....I have so much to tell you, but today I'm just going to leave it with a lighter baking post.

I don't eat fruit. I know, it's a weirdness about me. The texture of fruit is all wrong to me. So while chocolate dipped strawberries are lovely, they can be all yours.

But strawberry cakeballs made to look like chocolate dipped strawberries?

Hmmmmmmmmmmmm....

I couldn't get a good shot of one with a bite out of it, but please believe me when I tell you that inside those layers of dipping chocolate lies the moistest and most delicious strawberry cakeball....

A light in the dark.

I remember a long time ago when I found one of my first IF blogs.

It was a light in a very very dark and ugly world.

I had the pleasure of happening upon a blog of someone who had been through the wringer but was in the midst of a hard-fought pregnancy. Not to minimize anyone else's struggle but as we all know there are some there are shorter than others. This was not one of them. It was long and it was hard. I had only just failed my first IVF so I was at the beginning of my journey, though I didn't know it then.

I read it backwards and forwards, through tears and laughter, and since have formed a friendship with the author (a local gal!).

I remember seeing a card one day, that said something about 'seeing a light at the end of the tunnel and then becoming that light for others.' Bam! It described her and that blog perfectly and what it represented for me so I bought it and mailed it to her, thanking her for being that light.

It hit me yesterday that I will never be that light for anyone.

People who have supported me, people who have followed my journey, my fellow IF sisters...I am the person they fear the most, the person who goes the distance with treatment, the person who tries everything and pours her heart and soul into the battle and still comes up on the losing side.

I just think about some newbie, clicking onto this blog, and then feeling their fears mount when they see that no, IVF doesn't fix it for everyone. Because it can certainly seem that way early on in the journey...that IVF works, or that eventually, if you just keep going, it will work.

I found out that I passed my test (yay me!) and one of my friends said "well of course you did. You worked hard--damn hard. If you work hard enough at anything you should expect success." Hmmm.

Maybe instead I'm the reality check?

So to the newbies who find this space, I'm sorry. I tried my hardest to be your light in the midst of a very very dark place. I really did.

The video you knew was coming...

or maybe you didn't, but by now, if you followed my old blog and this one, you know a vacation isn't complete until we've made fools of ourselves in a video set to music and then posted it for the world to see. I'm just bummed I forgot to video or take any pics of J.E. and our fabulous night out--boo.

So here you go!

Mother's Day

It's the obligatory Mother's Day post.

And yes, I feel a little sad that no one made me breakfast or took me out for a special meal, I didn't get any adorable homemade card and no one whispered a well-rehearsed "Happy Mother's Day" into my ear.

But I'm an adult. I can understand why I'm in the place I'm in.

So I cannot feel too sad for me.

Instead, my heart is breaking for the millions of children who long to do those very things to a mother of their own, but they cannot.

For they are motherless.

Due to poverty, disease, abuse--whatever the reason they are motherless.

And they are children.

And they are innocent.

And they cannot understand why the world is so cruel to them.

And they cannot understand why we--fertile or infertile, it makes no difference--do not scoop them up into our arms and give them the love they so very much deserve.

It is not a happy Mother's Day for them.

And I think we should not--we cannot--forget them.

Sinead O'Connor is one of my favorite singers of all times. The first time I heard this song I cried. I had no idea the road before me at the time, but maybe it was prophetic.

This is to mother you
To comfort you and get you through
Through when your nights are lonely
Through when your dreams are only blue
This is to mother you
This is to be with you
To hold you and to kiss you too
For when you need me I will do
What your own mother didn't do
Which is to mother you
All the pain that you have known
All the violence in your soul
All the 'wrong' things you have done
I will take from you when I am come
All mistakes made in distress
All your unhappiness
I will take away with my kiss, yes
I will give you tenderness
For child I am so glad I've found you
Although my arms have always been around you
Sweet bird although you did not see me
I saw you
And I'm here to mother you
To comfort you and get you through
Through when your nights are lonely
Through when your dreams are only blue
This is to mother you

I will not dwell on my own circumstances today. For I have a mother. A wonderful mother who raised me and loved me and hugged me and told me how much I was loved.

And I knew it, without a doubt. With 100% certainty I knew was loved.

So for me, it is a Happy Mother's Day indeed.

Celebrity-pallooza

We're having an absolute blast in the city. I think it's our ninth trip together and so far, probably the best (although it's always tough to beat a NYC Christmastime trip...).

So thanks to the amazing J.E. (my celebrity friend) we got to attend a really cool event where celebrities read poetry. OK. I was completely starstruck by James Gandolfini laughing through his poetry readings (he walked right next to Mr. LC and we were only 15 feet or so from the podium in this little performance space), impressed with Amber Tamblyn, and also got to see Claire Danes, Sapphire (author of "Push") and Patricia Clarkson. On our way between the cocktail pre-party and the actual event we passed Hayden Christensen, looking ridiculously un-inconspicuous in a long trench coat. It was 80 degrees.

At any rate, the next day we saw Jeremy Sisto in midtown and then Peter Frechette in Chelsea. I know you may not know who he is, but he was in thirtysomething so alas, I am a fan.

It's been nonstop fun!

From biking through Central Park, to walking the new HighLine Park, to taking the Staten Island Ferry (dorky, yes, but a great way to see lower Manhattan from the water)...to walking about 8 miles today (seriously, I used google pedometer to see how far we walked when we got back to the room) while shopping in SoHo, NoHo, the West Village, and then hitting a great little Indian spot in Curry Row in the East Village....we're just having a blast.

I'd live here in a heartbeat if there was a way.

Anyone have a spare couple of million?

So here we are, loving life and then gnoshing some very hot Indian food...



And then there was this, which really? If anyone gets these tattoos of utensils on someone's calves, can you please clue me in?