Sunday, September 30, 2012
Dinosaur Museum
Natalie went to the Relief Society broadcast yesterday which means that the girls and I had a night out. We went to the dinosaur museum at Thanksgiving Point. The girls were so excited to be going. Even Lizzie was ecstatic about it despite the fact that she went earlier in the week with her preschool group. I didn't get a ton of pictures but here are some of the ones I was able to grab.
They have a noise lab a the museum where you can play with all sorts of different things related to noise. This was the winner.
We found the Stegosaurus again. It has been cool each and every time we have found it.
What is a trip to Thanksgiving Point without the cheap kiddie cone? The answer is "incomplete."
Wednesday, March 9, 2011
Child Labor
Sometimes it is good to have some helpers. Nevermind that one is using my ski shovel and the other is wondering how to get back to Kansas.
PS, to the DFCS the shoveling and outfits were their ideas, not mine.
PS, to the DFCS the shoveling and outfits were their ideas, not mine.
Monday, March 7, 2011
St. George Dinosaur Museum Revisit
We went to St. George for President's Day (I know, surprising huh?) We took a part of one day going to the Dinosaur Museum. I wanted to post about it because the lst time I was here it was just a bunch of geeky geologists (one of which was my brother) sitting out in the sun trying to find a way to protect the find. I would say there has been some minor improvements done to the place since then; namely, the geologists are significantly less geeky.
The exterior
The interior (I am sure you would be so confused without these captions)
A long track path of one dinosaur This is actually about 5 - 7 feet wide.
Despite what the facial expression might suggest, the girls were actually really into the whole thing.
Friday, February 25, 2011
Praise to the Edgie-Wedgie
Yup, skiing by herself. No assistance. Free rope-tows aren't a bad thing either.
Thursday, January 20, 2011
And we're back
I haven't had the motivation to catch up and its been a while so I won't and we will just pick up from here.
Addie told me the other day that she doesn't want Emily (my niece) to grow up and get married. I asked her why and she told me crying, "because she might move to a far a way land like Houston."
Addie has also become too cool for Dora, Diego, and Princesses. Lizzie was talking to me about it the other day and said, "Addie doesn't like Dora does she?" I told her, "No she doesn't but you can." Then she looked at me and said, "Addie doesn't like Cinderella either, but I love Cinderella. Hmm Addie must just be allergic to her." Yep she must be allergic because why else wouldn't a girl just love Cinderella? Lizzie's logic cracks me up.
Addie told me the other day that she doesn't want Emily (my niece) to grow up and get married. I asked her why and she told me crying, "because she might move to a far a way land like Houston."
Addie has also become too cool for Dora, Diego, and Princesses. Lizzie was talking to me about it the other day and said, "Addie doesn't like Dora does she?" I told her, "No she doesn't but you can." Then she looked at me and said, "Addie doesn't like Cinderella either, but I love Cinderella. Hmm Addie must just be allergic to her." Yep she must be allergic because why else wouldn't a girl just love Cinderella? Lizzie's logic cracks me up.
Monday, October 11, 2010
St. George Marathon
I know this is long, but so is 26.2 miles...
Our time in St. George started with packet pick-up for the race. They had it organized so that you picked up your packet based on your number. Mine was 426. They had tables setup for each 500 numbers so I went to the first table and handed them my number. The lady looked at it and said "Oh, you are an elite runner, you check in over there." To this I replied, "No I'm not." She told me again that I was and to go over to the table marked elite runners. After assuring her a couple more times that I was not an elite runner I headed over to the elite check-in. When I got to the table I said "I guess I am an elite runner." They just looked at me and laughed and handed me my stuff. That was cool and scary. I found out that they seed you based on your expected finishing time. I was worried.
The morning of the race was good. It was a crazy scene at the start; bonfires and space blankets everywhere. 5,600 people lined up for the race so imagine the mass of humanity at a random spot on a small highway in southern Utah. I took a picture with my phone just to capture the oddity of the whole situation.
When I got there I noticed a gate with a big sign above it marked "elite runners." Guess where I went. The guys manning the gates looked at my number and let me in. Again, I was worried that I was in over my head. There were special port-a-potties and fires for us which was nice. They also had an area marked off right behind the starting line just for elite runners to warm up. This whole time I was loving being in there because it took a lot of the stress away but I also felt stupid based on my previous attempts at my expected time of 3:10. I kind of felt like I shouldn't be there.
The final touch of awesomeness of the elite runner's area was that the warm up area was in between the starting line and the rest of the runners. That meant that we lined up at the starting line and then, just before the start of the race, they let the rest of the racers into the area to line up behind us. So I was lined up near the front with a lot of fast people (yikes) but I did not have to wade through a billion people before I could get into a rhythm. I just came across the line and started running my pace. That was awesome.
I came out feeling pretty good. I hit the halfway at 1:32 and change so I was happy. The course is hilly at the first and then nosedives into St. George which meant that I had put some time into the bank against my Boston time on the hilly section and I was still feeling pretty fresh. As the terrain turned downhill my pace still felt strong. I kept feeling good until the hill at about mile 18 at the Ledges. I hate anyone and everyone that has ever thought about being associated with that place. It was a small hill but a killer and it took everything that I had kept in the tank on the previous hills.
The weather really started to heat up at that point too and I started getting concerned at mile 23 when I realized that I still had never seen the 3:10 pace guy. I knew he was behind me so that was good but I didn't know how far behind me he was so that was bad. I also knew that I was running slower than my target so he was gaining on me. That was nerve-wracking. Every footstep I heard behind me was the 3:10 pace group in my head. As we hit Diagonal street (mile 24-25) I was hurting but I was still ahead.
Then I saw the race clock at mile 25.2. It said 3:01:30. So, after all of the day and all of the pain I knew it was all on the line for me to run a 8:30 mile. I forgot that you can qualify for Boston at 3:10:59; I had 3:10 in my head. So I ran the hardest, most painful 8:19 mile I have ever even thought about and ran under the clock at 3:09:49. (My chip time was 3:09:36.) I was so happy that I gathered all the energy I had and raised my hands to point at the clock for a couple seconds. That was all I had.
As I crossed the finish line I started to lose equilibrium slightly (by slightly I mean that I started falling to the right side and had lost all peripheral vision). A National Guardsman came up and grabbed my hand and offered to help me. I did not argue, partly because he was big and in camo, but mainly because if he wouldn't have helped me I would have fallen over. He helped me for a bit and then I shuffled over to the fences, saw Natalie and the kids and realized that I did it.
There is no better thing in this world than saying that. "I did it." During those last couple of miles my mind kept thinking of all of the reasons why I missed the time by a minute or two. I thought about everything I would say. About how I was so close but didn't quite make it. About how hard it was to get passed by the 3:10 pace guy in the last three miles but that it was OK because I had tried. In the end I didn't have to worry about it. All I had to do was say "I did it" and soak it in. It was a good day.
Our time in St. George started with packet pick-up for the race. They had it organized so that you picked up your packet based on your number. Mine was 426. They had tables setup for each 500 numbers so I went to the first table and handed them my number. The lady looked at it and said "Oh, you are an elite runner, you check in over there." To this I replied, "No I'm not." She told me again that I was and to go over to the table marked elite runners. After assuring her a couple more times that I was not an elite runner I headed over to the elite check-in. When I got to the table I said "I guess I am an elite runner." They just looked at me and laughed and handed me my stuff. That was cool and scary. I found out that they seed you based on your expected finishing time. I was worried.
The morning of the race was good. It was a crazy scene at the start; bonfires and space blankets everywhere. 5,600 people lined up for the race so imagine the mass of humanity at a random spot on a small highway in southern Utah. I took a picture with my phone just to capture the oddity of the whole situation.
When I got there I noticed a gate with a big sign above it marked "elite runners." Guess where I went. The guys manning the gates looked at my number and let me in. Again, I was worried that I was in over my head. There were special port-a-potties and fires for us which was nice. They also had an area marked off right behind the starting line just for elite runners to warm up. This whole time I was loving being in there because it took a lot of the stress away but I also felt stupid based on my previous attempts at my expected time of 3:10. I kind of felt like I shouldn't be there.
The final touch of awesomeness of the elite runner's area was that the warm up area was in between the starting line and the rest of the runners. That meant that we lined up at the starting line and then, just before the start of the race, they let the rest of the racers into the area to line up behind us. So I was lined up near the front with a lot of fast people (yikes) but I did not have to wade through a billion people before I could get into a rhythm. I just came across the line and started running my pace. That was awesome.
I came out feeling pretty good. I hit the halfway at 1:32 and change so I was happy. The course is hilly at the first and then nosedives into St. George which meant that I had put some time into the bank against my Boston time on the hilly section and I was still feeling pretty fresh. As the terrain turned downhill my pace still felt strong. I kept feeling good until the hill at about mile 18 at the Ledges. I hate anyone and everyone that has ever thought about being associated with that place. It was a small hill but a killer and it took everything that I had kept in the tank on the previous hills.
The weather really started to heat up at that point too and I started getting concerned at mile 23 when I realized that I still had never seen the 3:10 pace guy. I knew he was behind me so that was good but I didn't know how far behind me he was so that was bad. I also knew that I was running slower than my target so he was gaining on me. That was nerve-wracking. Every footstep I heard behind me was the 3:10 pace group in my head. As we hit Diagonal street (mile 24-25) I was hurting but I was still ahead.
Then I saw the race clock at mile 25.2. It said 3:01:30. So, after all of the day and all of the pain I knew it was all on the line for me to run a 8:30 mile. I forgot that you can qualify for Boston at 3:10:59; I had 3:10 in my head. So I ran the hardest, most painful 8:19 mile I have ever even thought about and ran under the clock at 3:09:49. (My chip time was 3:09:36.) I was so happy that I gathered all the energy I had and raised my hands to point at the clock for a couple seconds. That was all I had.
As I crossed the finish line I started to lose equilibrium slightly (by slightly I mean that I started falling to the right side and had lost all peripheral vision). A National Guardsman came up and grabbed my hand and offered to help me. I did not argue, partly because he was big and in camo, but mainly because if he wouldn't have helped me I would have fallen over. He helped me for a bit and then I shuffled over to the fences, saw Natalie and the kids and realized that I did it.
There is no better thing in this world than saying that. "I did it." During those last couple of miles my mind kept thinking of all of the reasons why I missed the time by a minute or two. I thought about everything I would say. About how I was so close but didn't quite make it. About how hard it was to get passed by the 3:10 pace guy in the last three miles but that it was OK because I had tried. In the end I didn't have to worry about it. All I had to do was say "I did it" and soak it in. It was a good day.
Thursday, October 7, 2010
Dirty Dash
The last weekend in September I did one of the funnest races I have ever done. It was called the Dirty Dash. It was a 10K that added in obstacles and lots and lots of mud.
It started running up a muddy hill and then up a lot more hills until we ran through a snowmaker that was shooting water all over the dirt, over some hay bales, through some tubes, through some mud pits, and over some walls. This picture is of me with my neighbor, Sarah, and niece, Stephanie. We were running through a mud pit right before one of the walls.
Here is my niece coming over one of the walls. The pictures of me weren't nearly as coordinated so I'm not including them. After the walls we got to run through the swamps of Deer Creek Reservoir. It didn't smell very good and pulling your shoes out of the muck got hard after a while. After that they ran us back up the hill to a giant slip and slide.
To finish it off we got to/had to run through the mud pit.
The final mud pit was waist-deep with flags criss-crossing it that you couldn't get over. That meant the only way to get through was to go under and crawl... through the mud. After crawling through the pit my friend Courtney "helped" me up. That is her in the picture up with the handful of mud getting ready to help me up. That is me right by her, crouched on the ground, about to meet that mud. Stephanie helped her out.
My ear might never be the same.
And here are the proud finishers. You can make a pig face, be incredibly muddy, and be proud in this case. It works.
And our lovely legs/shoes after it all.
This race is definitely a repeat. Lizzie was there at the finish line and when I saw her she told me very informatively, "Mom you're way dirty."
Here is my niece coming over one of the walls. The pictures of me weren't nearly as coordinated so I'm not including them. After the walls we got to run through the swamps of Deer Creek Reservoir. It didn't smell very good and pulling your shoes out of the muck got hard after a while. After that they ran us back up the hill to a giant slip and slide.
To finish it off we got to/had to run through the mud pit.
The final mud pit was waist-deep with flags criss-crossing it that you couldn't get over. That meant the only way to get through was to go under and crawl... through the mud. After crawling through the pit my friend Courtney "helped" me up. That is her in the picture up with the handful of mud getting ready to help me up. That is me right by her, crouched on the ground, about to meet that mud. Stephanie helped her out.
My ear might never be the same.
And here are the proud finishers. You can make a pig face, be incredibly muddy, and be proud in this case. It works.
And our lovely legs/shoes after it all.
This race is definitely a repeat. Lizzie was there at the finish line and when I saw her she told me very informatively, "Mom you're way dirty."
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