Lessons from Liu Xiang

During the first round of the 110m hurdles, Liu Xiang from China was one of the favorites to take home gold from London. After rupturing his Achilles tendon in 2004, this was likely Xiang's final shot at winning an Olympic event.

But as fate would have it, he mistimed his first hurdle and crashed into the ground, rupturing his old injury and putting him out of medal contention. At first he hopped off the track towards the tunnel, away from the crowd and, I'm sure, in an effort to conceal tears of disappointment. Athletes stumbling in the preliminary round is nothing new, so why did Xiang make headlines across the world?

Because he got up. He hobbled back onto the track and limped his way toward the finish line. He stopped to kiss the last hurdle, most likely his last gesture at an Olympic games. And he was carried the final few feet across the finish line by his competitors.

I'm telling myself this story because, we hit a hurdle today (two, actually). First, the cost of the city mandated repairs is actually double the original estimate, which will now take up our entire remodeling budget. And if that wasn't enough, our contractor called this morning and can no longer do the work on our house.

Ouch. Feels like we just crashed and burned and we barely made it out of the gate.

Not going to lie, this sucks. It's not easy to look at your dream house and start second guessing your decision, or worse, contemplate the idea of actually walking away from it. It's hard seeing your friends and family move into homes where the biggest setback was scrapping off wallpaper in the kitchen. It's also humbling to be reminded that this probably isn't the first hurdle we're going to hit, and the anticipation of future pain is a hard pill to swallow.

"What's next?" you ask? Thankfully, Josh is part of this equation because my gut reaction is to curl up in bed with ice cream and delete all those Pinterest ideas I've been collecting the past four weeks while whimpering loud enough for Josh to hear. He had a good sulk, and then made some phone calls to find us another contractor.

This is why I love my husband; because he doesn't focus on the hurdles, he focuses on the finish line.

So we're back in the race...

Welcome to the Jungle

In college, my mom bought me a small bamboo plant. She told me that I it would be good for me to care for something outside of myself and help it flourish. Bamboo, she said, is one of the heartiest plants on earth; able to withstand wind, little water and temperature variations. "Prove to me you can do this, sweetheart" she whispered.

It died two months later. (sorry mom). 


The point is, when it comes to plants, I'm able to kill just about anything. Plants have some kind of sixth sense when they come into my presence; it's like they know it's the end and completely give up on life. I've tried everything. I meticulously cut the stems off flowers Josh sends me, put that packet of food in the water and give them a sunny spot in our dining room. Within 48 hours, they are on life support, drooping like the white surrender flag.

So when we saw our beautiful house on Westwood Hills, I realized that my flora-destroying experiences up to this point were just practice; small exercises to prepare for the jungle that is our yard.

Because nobody has lived on the property since last November, the greenery has, well, made itself quite comfy. With plenty of sunlight, frequent rains in the spring and nobody to reign it in, the plantlife has completely taken over the house. This is where our front door is. There are actually beautiful windows into the living room but you can't see out them because of the shrubs.

Seriously. It's like somebody pumped steroids into the soil and told everybody to have a party. And boy did they ever.

 The planters in the front also went a little wild. Every time we stop by the house, our realtor and I take turns weeding this. Not that it does much good...

And then there is the ivy. Yes, it gives the house that beautiful English cottage look. In fact, my buddy Jason asked me point blank if we bought the house because it looks like something out of Harry Potter (this comment actually made my week. All I need now is an owl to deliver my mail and I could die happy).  Unfortunately, it all has to be ripped down. Immediately.

Ivy causes a whole host of problems (which, I didn't know until we bought the house).

1. Since it's plantlife, it holds water like a sponge against the house. 
2. It also plays hostess to a variety of cute insects like hornets, wasps and beetles. 
3. The little plant feet that attach it to the brick grow and start to rip the brick off the house. 

So as we visited the house this past weekend, I made a point to walk around the house and alert these photosynthesis loving organisms that they have met their match. I haven't met a plant yet that I wasn't able to swiftly destroy.

(Editors Note: we won't be killing ALL the plants- unless Ashley is in charge of the landscaping).

Holy crap, we bought a house.

PREFACE

"You sure about this?"Josh says to me over the phone.

I'm at work, in the middle of the busiest month in recent memory and we're in a multiple offer situation with a house we've been looking at for over a week. The bank has asked all parties for their "highest and final offer;" it's our last and only shot at buying the home we've fallen in love with. The number swirling around in conversation hits my ears with deafening power.

"No," I say, "but let's do it anyway."

On Friday, shortly before 5:00, I got an email from our realtor congratulating us on our new home. I called Josh and told him the news. I imagine we had the same response as most couples do when they find out they're pregnant with their first kid. He asked if I was serious, I repeated that I was several times. There was silence. Then laughter- that nervous laughter that often occurs on first dates after an awkward joke where the punchline wasn't delivered correctly. And then, more silence. Finally, Josh takes a deep breath and says, "looks like we have our own little house of horrors."

WHAT'S WRONG WITH IT?

It's the first question I asked when I saw the listing on our email from Shelly, our realtor. The house was just TOO perfect. After getting cold feet in our first house search earlier this year, Josh and I were convinced it would take several months to find something within our price range and, more specifically, something that matched our wish list.

We met Shelly at Cuppa Java a few weeks prior to see if she would be a good realtor for us. "If you don't like a house within the first few seconds of walking inside, tell me," she said. "Don't waste my time by having me show you around the whole place when you're just not feeling it." We were immediately sold, shook hands and then gave her our list of "wants" for our house:

• Three bedrooms, two bathrooms
• Master bedroom with en suite bathroom
• Minimum 1,600 square feet
• Two car garage
• Decent size yard for a garden and patio
• Fireplace
• Open floorplan
• Old kitchen we could gut and re-do ourselves
• Wood floors
• A man-cave
• A place for all my books
• In St. Louis Park
• Under $190,000

Admittedly, it was a ridiculously specific list for our price range. Since we are doing a "rehab" loan, the house couldn't be more than $196,000. The purpose of the loan is for buyers to "rehab" delinquent properties and bring their value back up by putting in money to repair and upgrade the existing home.

So imagine our surprise when we come across a listing for a home that matched all of our requests. In fact, if you had asked us to draw up our perfect house, this was what it would look like. So we asked "Ok, we love it. What's wrong with it?"

The answer we got wasn't what was wrong, but where to begin with the problems. Overall, the majority of previous remodeling work had been done without ever pulling permits. In fact, we are now proud owners of a 26-page report listing all the city repairs that need to be done BEFORE we can even obtain a certificate of occupancy. After meeting with a contractor, two city inspectors and a structural engineer, we realized the majority of our budget would be used just to make the house livable again.

LET'S DO THIS

It was a Tuesday evening, and we had just spent 90 minutes with a contractor walking through city assessments and other projects we wanted to complete. It was daunting; anyone with a shred of sanity would walk away. But we looked at each other with slightly guilty eyes that said "I know it's kind of a disaster and this is crazy but, I still love it."

So we took the plunge. And now we're here to share our trials (and triumphs) of being first time home owners with a beautiful house that needs A TON of work. One thing is for certain, it's going to be one hell of a ride.

Google Maps aerial view of our house and garage to the right.

I did it! (my journey through Tough Mudder)

It's Sunday evening and I'm sitting on my couch with a glass of wine taking in an amazing experience. First and foremost:

• Major props to my teammate Matt. He kept me going when my legs were ready to quit and made sure I made it over all the walls. He was a total rockstar and the best teammate a friend could ask for. 
• HUGE thank you to my parents and Josh for coming out to support me. I can't tell you how much it means knowing that you have people there to cheer you on and waiting for you throughout the course. It makes such a difference. 
• And of course, thank you to everyone that has read my journey and sent me messages. This was the most insane thing I've ever done and I was thrilled to share it with all of you. 

So, without further ado, here's a photo heavy recap of my Tough Mudder race (in case, you know, you get the urge to do one of these in the future). All the photos were taken by Josh, Amy or are from Tough Mudder's official Facebook page that posted pics of the Twin Cities event:


Starting Line
Matt and ventured down to the starting line, ready to rock and roll. You have to climb over an eight foot wall just to get to the starting line; lovingly called the "point of no return." They give you a pep talk, sing the national anthem and you're off on a half mile run to the first obstacle. 


Obstacle: Arctic Enema
Lucky for us, they filled a fresh pool with ice just we got to the front of the line. Even though the temperature outside was close to 90 degrees, they keep these containers at a balmy 40 degrees. Matt and I jumped in rather than sliding in (a definite MUST) and holy hell, it was like my body went into shock. You surface to gasp for air and then go back under the wall to get to the other side. Then we used all our strength to haul ourselves out and start running to the next obstacle. 

Obstacle: Underground Tunnels
After running for another half a mile or so we get to the underground tunnels. Dark, full of drops and weird terrain, it was a slog through tons and tons of mud. Luckily for me, I'm really small so I could crawl easily to the other side. 

Obstacle: Mud (in general)
Nearly lost my shoes in the mud rivers. They were so sticky and literally sucked the shoes off people. It was so slippery and just trying to keep your footing without twisting an ankle was challenging enough. Loved that here, my mom was shouting "Go to the left!" When I replied "thanks Mom" everyone around me starting laughing and saying "my mom would be telling me the same thing. 

Matt and me going through all the mud!

Obstacle: Running
Note to veteran marathoners, this is NOT a running course. This is sheer evil in the form of hills and uneven terrain. The course itself was 11.7 miles; just shy of a half marathon. But he amount of non-stop hills on this course was brutal. Weaving in and out of trees and never equal footing, my hip flexors were on fire by mile 7. Today, that's what hurts the most. 

Obstacle: Mud Mile
A course of minor mud hills and pits of water. Sounds easy, but after a few hours of people climbing their way up and down, those things are completely flattened with no footholds or grooves to grip. Granted, it was fun sitting on your ass and sliding down into the pool of muddy water, but then hoisting yourself up another embankment was exhausting. 

Obstacle: The Rings/Monkey Bars
Easily my WORST two events. Not like I had massive amounts of upper body strength to begin with, but after being tired, it just wasn't happening. I was awesome and fell into the water on both almost immediately. Better luck next time. 

Obstacle: Cargo Net
Not your fifth grade gym class cargo net. No cushy blue mats below and this one is covered in so much mud, it makes it slippery. 

Obstacle. More running, more hills
I seriously cannot stress how many freakin' hills were on this course. Each time you'd get to the top of one, another one would be staring you in the face.  

Obstacle: Berlin Walls
There were two sets of Berlin Walls. Both between 8 and ten feet tall. The great thing about this event is the amount of teamwork you see. Perfect strangers risking life and limb to help fellow mudders up and over the walls. Stepping on people's thighs, hands and shoulders to get to the other side. I was really nervous since I'm slightly afraid of heights. Both sets of walls, I got lots of help from Matt and other competitors. We arrived a few minutes after some poor guy fell and broke his leg on this obstacle. You sign a waiver that you risk serious injury, even death, on this course. 

Matt helping me up the Berlin Wall!

Obstacle: Electric Eel
Call my crazy, but this was one of the most fun obstacles. Face deep in muddy water and crawling like your life depends on it trying to dodge barbed wire and live electrical wires less than four inches above your head. About halfway through, the guy in charge of the electrical voltage said he would turn it off for ten seconds. Trust me, I've never moved faster in my life than those ten seconds. 

Obstacle: The Log Run
I know you're all curious to know how my training helped me for this. Well, at least I knew how to position the log on my shoulders. After every other thing I had been through that day, carrying a 25 pound stump a mile up and down hill seemed like a piece of cake. 

Obstacle: Everest
Matt and I are on the home stretch, with less than three miles left. We're tired and my legs are shaking. Matt goes up the hill first, missing on his first attempt after hearing his name called out (it was his adorable girlfriend, Amy). But he did it the second time with ease. Me on the other hand, had troubles. My legs could move fast enough up that incline and I fell twice (or maybe three times, I don't even remember) before finally being pulled over the top. It's probably the reason I've got bruises, cuts and gashes all over my legs today. 

Making my way up Everest

Obstacle: Twinkle Toes
Worst part of the course and not because of the obstacle. The bottleneck here was ridiculous. We waited close to 25 minutes in line just to climb the ladder and get up there. You're fine for about three minutes and then the adrenaline wears off and you start cramping up. Bad. People are trying to stretch, jump, anything just to stay loose. Oh, and those planks across the pool? They're 2x4's and the skinny side is up, wobbly and full of water and mud. Matt and I both made it across with our superb balancing skills.  

Obstacle: Walk The Plank
Overall, to me, this was the worst one. We climbed onto the platform and then you realize that this 20 foot jump into murky water is a LOT farther up than it looked on the ground. You have maybe three seconds before the guy tells you to jump and where. I will never, ever forget my feet leaving the platform and thinking, "Holy shit, when am I going to actually HIT the water?" I remember plunging into complete darkness, and scrambling to get myself to the surface. I have never been so thankful to be gulping and choking for air than when I was swimming to the shore. Only later would I learn that several people got to the top of the platform and climb back down.

Jumping off the platform!

Last Obstacle: Shocker
Of course, being Tough Mudder, the last obstacle before the finish line is the Shocker. 20 yards of live wires and hay bales just to make it harder to run through, trying to dodge 1,000 volt shocks that knock your ass to the ground. Again, I managed to miss every single wire which was probably a good thing because I don't know if I could have gotten back up at that point. 

FINISHED!!!
Matt and I ran through the finish line, hand in hand. Final time: roughly three and a half hours to complete the nearly 12 mile course. Not too shabby for our first time. I can honestly say, I've never been so thankful to be done with anything in my life. And I've also never been prouder of myself. I set out to do something crazy before turning 30 and I did it!

Tough Mudder 2012

 

Home Stretch (aka: Holy Crap!!)

I'm sitting on my couch chugging gallons of watered down Gatorade and consuming enough carbohydrates to fuel the mens Olympic swim team. Today was my final hard-core training workout before the race on Saturday. Over five miles of hills, sprints and a few random sets of push-ups just in case my body didn't hate me enough already. In addition to icing my knee and taking advil, my current predicament involves my ass.

Somehow I pulled the muscle in my ass (feel free to laugh anytime). I've concluded that there are no easy, direct ways to stretch out this lovely muscle that ya know, MIGHT be helpful while propelling myself through mud across pits of flaming hay bales.

But (no pun intended) other than that, I think I'm prepared as I can be. I'm bringing all the necessary supplies one would need when attempting something this ridiculous:

Goggles- I'm blind and cannot afford to lose one of my contacts in the water obstacles. What's really funny is that I had to buy the "junior" size goggles because the adult sizes are too large for my face.

Gloves- in addition to my midget face, I also have midget hands which made it almost impossible to find gloves that don't look like oven mitts on my tiny paws. My hands seriously have not grown since fifth grade.

Tums- call my crazy, but I'm convinced 2-3 of these before a run will prevent my insides from exploding halfway through the course and spilling down my leg. If you don't think that this actually happens, I challenge you to sit at the finish line of a marathon. Two years I volunteered at the Twin Cities marathon, assisting runners in their quest to cross the finish line. And in those eight hours, I saw more bodily fluids spill onto the pavement of St. Paul than most med students see their entire residency.

Duct Tape- After reading several blogs and columns written by former Tough Mudder participants, this seems to be a good investment. My neon-green adhesive will be strategically wrapped to secure my sneakers to my feet. Apparently, the mud gets so thick that people have lost their shoes in the mess. I don't know about you, but I have no desire to run rocky, uneven terrain in my Hanes Her Way crew socks.

A change of clothes- After the race, I'm expecting to be hosed down like a scientist potentially exposed to a biologically enhanced strain of the plague. If the clothes are not completely destroyed from the mud, fire and barbed wire covering the course, my shoes will MOST DEFINITELY be retired on Saturday.


A cheering gallery- and last, but not least, I'm bringing a cheering section. I spent six months convincing my mother that I would not die or get seriously injured while competing. Even now, I've had to promise that if I get injured, I will swallow my pride and NOT feel compelled to finish the course. So she'll be heading to Somerset to see me race, along with my awesome dad and ever-supportive husband. They'll be taking plenty of pictures to document this monumental achievement.

And finally, thank you to everyone that has read a post and made comments to cheer me on. I know I wasn't the best blogger with the most posts, but they were honest and I loved seeing that people took the time to read all my ramblings. I'll be posting pictures and a recap of my adventure on Sunday so stay tuned!!

Me vs. The Tree Stump

With less than two months away from Tough Mudder, my workouts have changed to include tasks that simulate actual obstacles on the course. Last Sunday, I ran a hill. Ten times. And not just any hill, I mean, this hill would be classified as the black diamond of hills at some mediocre ski resort. It kicked my ass nine times (the first attempt was the only time I didn't feel like my legs and lungs would explode on the last step). 


So today, during my five mile run, I decided to simulate "Hold Your Wood." It involves picking up a log anywhere from 15 - 30 pounds and hiking with it for close to a mile. So there I am, in suburban St. Louis Park digging around this park for a log. My first attempt turned out to be a nest for some weird insects to which I screamed and darted the other direction. And then, like a golden halo of light, I saw it. A tree stump. 

Without exaggeration, it was a little over a foot in diameter and weighed about 20 pounds. "Perfect" I thought. So I bent down, hoisted it onto my shoulder and began my mile hike back home. There were several things wrong with this entire scenario:

1. The stump was too big for my pathetically narrow shoulders. There was no good way to balance or carry it without leaning to one side. This made me look like one leg was significantly shorter than the other as I trekked up the hill.


2. My mile hike involved a good quarter-mile slog on the frontage road alongside highway 100. It is a VERY BUSY frontage road. I can only imagine the conversations inside each car as they approached me, dragging this HUGE TREE STUMP along a frontage road in my bright pink under armour shirt marching crookedly like a pirate with a wooden leg.


3. Tree stumps are not smooth. In fact, when they are covered in burrs and dirt and pine needle thingys, they are quite sharp. As I hauled my trophy up the frontage road, the damn thing kept shifting on my teeny-tiny shoulders. As a result, it looks like a mountain lion got a hold of my neck and used it as an emery board.


What could make this story even better, you ask? Josh and I are attending a Mad Men premiere party tonight where I have to wear a dress that does not cover my "mauling by tree stump" injuries. And I'm going with a co-worker who will no doubt ask why I'm covered in scratches. 

So here I am on the couch, writing this post and rubbing first aid ointment patches all over my neck to prevent infection and hope the redness goes down in the next two hours.

After Every Meal

It's been almost a month since I hopped onto Josh's diet wagon and, overall things are going great. I've been sticking to our dinner plans, eating lots of veggies and staying away from processed foods as much as possible. In fact, I was so excited about my progress that I bragged to Josh that I had cut back dessert to once a day.

Me: "And I didn't have dessert tonight because I had a cookie for lunch today."
Josh: "Wait. How often do you NORMALLY have dessert?"
Me: "After every meal except breakfast, like most people. But sometimes I have it after breakfast too."
Josh: "Seriously?!"
Me: "Yes. Why? How often are people supposed to have dessert?"
Josh: "Um, like maybe 3 times a week."
Me: "What?!"

Thus began a heated debate over the acceptable instances of dessert in a normal eating plan. Now, would I love to have a piece of chocolate cake or ice cream sundae after every meal? Yes- that would be awesome. Do I? No. Dessert is anything from a small handful of fruitsnacks to cocoa roasted almonds to a bite-size snicker bar.

But Josh argues that it's not about dessert per se, it's about my sugar intake. All those little sugar grams add up and that's what gets people into trouble. He blurts out "If you want to lose five pounds for this race, you can't have dessert after EVERY meal, Ashley."

In normal Ashley fashion, I cross my arms and start walking faster in a huff. It's not fair. I'm fighting with feelings and he's fighting with facts. Clearly, it's an injustice and he is wrong.

We didn't come to an agreement. But he did offer to make "Ms. Trunchbull's Chocolate Cake" from my favorite book, Matilda, as a peace offering. I happily obliged- but we'll save it until AFTER the race.