A Much-Needed Girls'/ Beach Weekend

Seth’s not much of an ocean person. If he has free time on his hands, he’d much rather head for a treestand than the beach. I, on the other hand, like the rest of the Walters family, believes absolutely in the zen-inducing, soul-cleansing power of waves. (Not that any of us turns our nose up at snow-capped mountains.) Still, post-blast especially, Seth’s aversion to the heat and difficulty walking on sand means that I’ve had to resign myself to a lot less beach time, and I definitely miss it. Between that and an insane week that involved Seth traveling and me working late (opposite schedules conspiring to make us short-fused and cranky), this weekend was much-needed and long-overdue.

We high-fived Thursday night when he got back, and Friday morning after yet another commander’s cup run (a “cross country run” on the golf course which saw some seriously slow jogging from me) and a painfully dull work picnic, I dove into the traffic melee that is northern Virginia on Fridays. Driving anywhere in the DMV on Friday makes it almost not worth it to leave for the weekend (and coming home Sunday is, I reminded myself, a close second.) Still, I was excited for beach time. Minus the chilly trip to Bar Harbor, I hadn't had a real ocean fix in almost a year. And I was way overdue on girl time.

So of course it was totally worth the long and painful drive. I got to see my law school girlfriends, who I hadn’t seen since Nicole’s wedding in Puerto Rico last May, and catch up on husbands and babies and the inexplicably still-intriguing law school gossip. They also threw me my very first shower of any kind, a hilarious, low key, pink-laden baby shower surprise, complete with cupcakes. (Nicole even made us play the baby food game.) And we spent all day Saturday doing nothing, a rarity for any of us, on the beach. Thunder-and-hail storms rolled in that evening, and we fled inside for bad TV and homemade marinara with herbs from Nicole’s garden.

And Sunday morning, we woke up to a beach sunrise and the sound of the waves. It was perfect. Good for the soul. And I didn’t even have to feel guilty about it, since it sounds like Seth had a terrific weekend going to the range, grilling elk steaks, and drinking copious amounts of beer with college friends. I got home last night in time to watch the Spurs win (both Seth and Dad were thrilled—Father’s Day win), so a terrific weekend was had by all.

Bring it on, Monday. Today we’re officially halfway to the arrival of Baby Nieman! Hard to believe. I’m cherishing every morning I can look down and still see my toes from here on out. I know I haven’t shared any “baby bump” pictures—I’m waiting until it looks like I actually have a baby in there, instead of like I just stopped going to the gym! Any day now…

Photo of the week is the master chef himself at the grill. Always a hit.

What a difference a year makes!

This picture was taken on July 1, 2013, after the 19th of Seth's 21 surgeries.
 

 

This picture was taken on Sunday. Less than a year later. 

 

A veteran of long races, longer deployments, and more than a few injuries and surgeries myself; surrounded as I am (fortunate to be) by friends and family members who matter-of-factly weather the most punishing of life's storms and accomplish things most people only read about; it is rare that I am really blown out of the water by toughness or determination or feats of athleticism or sheer grit. (That's totally unfair to the remarkable people in my life, and I officially vow to be more appropriately awed.) I also don't sing my husband's praises publicly very often, largely because so many people do it for me (and I do have to live with the man's ego, after all, which was perfectly healthy to begin with.) But this weekend, Seth checked an item off his "to conquer" list that has to be shared, and deserves reflection.

I can barely wrap my mind around the fact that a year ago he was hobbling around in an ex fix (after several devastating hardware fails), as we wondered if we would ever be done with hardware and wheelchairs and pain medication and severely limited mobility.

In the11+ months since the first picture, Seth finally lost the ex fix. Learned to walk again. Then run. Then started swimming, then biking. Lost 40 pounds of "wheelchair weight." Kicked pain meds cold turkey, and without any prompting. Worked his way through countless iterations of sockets and prosthetics and braces.

And on Sunday, he did his first triathlon.

He apparently got the idea to do one from a fellow wounded warrior. He definitely didn't get it from me. A trail runner at heart, I despise the crowds and the gear and the logistics... not to mention the terrifying possibility of a flat tire. But Seth wanted to do one, so I searched high and low for a small race with a transition area that didn't resemble Grand Central at rush hour and a race director who didn't mind giving us our own transition rack so we'd have room for our collection of legs. And Sunday morning, we headed south at an ungodly hour to Naylor's Beach Campground for a multisport morning, kicked off by a swim in the murky Rappahannock River.

It went off without a hitch. Seth knocked out the 500 meter swim like it was nothing, and made it back to the transition area after a quick change into his prepositioned shower leg. Our tires stayed inflated on the15 mile bike, Seth only had to stop and adjust his leg once, and the clip-in disasters that the overprotective prospective Dad had been predicting thankfully didn't occur (although at the end of the ride he told me sternly that this would be my last spin on a racing bike for awhile.)

I did not argue. I really do hate cycling.

The run was the tough part, and not just because the heat of the day had arrived. After all the trips to the prosthetist and trial runs with various "fixes," the running leg is still just not where it needs to be (and in fact requires every-mile liner drying and adjustment, while the highly-touted IDEO brace leaves Seth's shin a raw, bloody mess.) Still, he dragged himself through the hot, uncomfortable 5k, tugging at his liner and giving terse, monosyllabic responses to my attempts at cheerful conversation. It was not the most fun we've ever had, but was, for me at least, an important reminder that Seth may make it look easy, but it's not. It hurts, and it's hard, and it never really stops feeling unfair, and sometimes you just want to quit.

But I'm so lucky to be married to a guy who never has and never will. 

We crossed the finish line together, Seth with a towel wrapped around his bleeding leg, and took this picture to commemmorate our first family triathlon. (Baby Nieman having performed magnificently.) We're a pretty good team, the three of us.

A triathlon of any length, for any person with two legs, is nothing to sneeze at. I couldn't be prouder of Seth. For setting such a goal in the first place, and then for checking it off like it was all in a morning's work, less than a year after ridding himself of the draconian ex fix.

We toasted ourselves, and the last year, with a hard-earned beer after the race. It really is amazing what a difference a year makes, and we couldn't be happier to be where we're at.

The picture of the week, however, is of one of the few things that never does seem to change, and I have a soft spot for that too. The North Face Endurance Challenge has become an annual ritual for the Taylor fam and I, and it's still refreshingly untouched by the big crowds and overcommercialization that characterize most races these days.This is Scott and Grace and I, hanging out on my first year not running (and what may be Grace's last year at the face painting booth!)

A Few of My Favorite Things

One of my favorite things in the world is to share gym time with Seth. We have totally opposite schedules, so it doesn't happen very often. These days sometimes I get to enjoy my second favorite thing though, which is to hear him in the gym as I'm running out the door, singing along to the Eagles at the top of his lungs from the rower. It never fails to make my day.

Last night I discovered a decent recipe for whole wheat/ egg white crepes, too (of course Seth insisted on dessert crepes to go with his healthy ones), and Monday we got up and rode bikes together along the canal before work. If I can manage to grab a half glass of wine with Michelle one night, and Seth and I actually get to sleep in Saturday morning, I'm going to dub this "a few of my favorite things" week. Straight out of the Sound of Music.

Last week was not bad either. We scheduled our 20 week ultrasound a little early by accident (in our working-people attempt to consolidate Walter Reed trips), so we "get" to spend another morning on the 6th floor later this month, but it was still pretty cool to see Baby Nieman moving around. Last time, the heartbeat was the big thrill. This time, we loved seeing her wave her tiny fists (not to mention her healthy organs and solid growth rate.)

I dragged Seth to my office's organization day/ summer farewell shindig (inexplicably and possibly illegally) at the horse track. Seth had a great time betting on horses and drinking beer, and I reminded him probably twelve times that it would be my turn to have fun while he has babysitting duty soon enough. Still, not a bad Friday at the office.

Afterwards, we headed for the middle of nowhere, Pennsylvania, for the last day of turkey season. Before I met Seth, I'm pretty sure I didn't even know there was a spring turkey season. Now, he had managed to make me feel insanely guilty that I had selected for our anniversary weekend destination one of the only places in Maine you can't shoot turkeys. This was my penance, and I was a reasonably good sport about the ridiculously early wakeup and a day with strangers at a hunting lodge (Seth having "forgotten," suspiciously, that hunting was permitted all day in Pennsylvania instead of ending at noon, which is the norm.) I fished up a leaky paddleboat, though, and went for a nice run in the mountains, so all was not lost.

And Sunday, I got my wish for a day at home, finally! We hadn't been home in so long our backyard was starting to look like a jungle, the laundry was threatening to stage a coup, and my remarkable restraint about the piles of paperwork and hunting paraphernalia that Seth accumulates downstairs at an astounding rate was wearing a little thin. We worked from sunup until long after sundown (well, I took a break for a beautiful run along the Potomac and brunch in Old Town with Rebecca and Steph), and were ridiculously pleased to be able to relax in our no-longer-a- Superfund-site house at the end of it. Sometimes you really do just need a reset day.

Of course, the new week found a film crew tracking dirt into the clean living room and floodlights on until all hours of the night... but Seth got his interview knocked out for Rob's documentary (http://www.nonemoreamerican.com/), so all in all that made us feel pretty accomplished too. Plus it was an excuse to order pizza.

It was a busy week, and I had forgotten that we had planned to celebrate my friend Ranj's last week at work at the White House with an insider tour of the West Wing. Good thing she reminded us, because it was super cool (regular visitors only get to tour the East Wing) and we had a great time.

We don't venture into the city very often, so we took full advantage of the trip and followed up the tour with date night at a Cuban restaurant, where Seth enjoyed the rum and I stuffed myself with truly excellent pineapple guacamole. It's crazy, but we're starting to realize that "just us" date nights have an upcoming expiration date (at least for awhile), so we're enjoying them while we can.

I had to pick this one for "photo of the week." It's me with my earnings from my one-and-only horse betting experience. I stuck with $2 bets, and wound up twenty cents up. I figured Tony would be proud.

Anniversaries and Adventures

 A year ago today, right about this time, Seth and I looked up from our sandwiches at Melby’s (a grocery store/ bait shop/ diner-ish eatery in Waterford, Maine) and realized that we had just over an hour to change before our wedding. We raced back to the Bear Mountain Inn, newly-minted marriage license in tow, to get ready. Our best efforts notwithstanding, we were not even close to ready on time (ahem, Seth), and the ceremony started late. Luckily there was no one around to care if we were late, rumpled, or sweaty, or to notice that my dress was a tiny bit tight. Seth was still in an ex fix and couldn’t make it down the “aisle” at the last minute, so we rode down the hill to the lakeshore on the back of his pickup truck, which one of the innkeepers had kindly agreed to drive. Afterwards, we took a few snapshots with a turkey decoy, feasted on takeout and wedding cake, and passed out watching “Duck Dynasty” before we could finish our champagne.

And thus began our adventure. Well, officially anyway. To be honest, we were already knee deep in it, and our relaxed, funny wedding was just a spur-of-the-moment high water mark in a year characterized by ups and downs that would put any roller coaster to shame.

It’s hard to believe that here we are, a year later, knocked up and pretty settled suburbanites. Seth doesn’t just walk now, he bikes, swims, and runs. He was pronounced fit for duty and starts school in the fall, and we have a three-year plan and- gulp- a baby shopping list. We still have the truck, I’m still squeezing into clothes (for a different reason now), and he’s still always late. And it’s never stopped being an adventure.

We celebrated a bit early in Bar Harbor, with a long weekend of sleeping in and massages and gorging ourselves on lobster (Seth) and mac and cheese (me) and lobster mac and cheese (take a guess.) We biked the carriage roads in Acadia National Park, had picnics on beautiful beaches, saw the view from the top of Cadillac Mountain… and Seth even talked me into go-karting and mini golf. It was a perfect weekend away, and a great way to celebrate how far we’ve come since our last escape to Maine. And the many adventures that lie ahead for the Nieman Family.

Cheers to anniversaries and adventures. And summer in Maine, and long weekends, and blueberry beer, and marrying your best friend. Life is good.

Which brings me to the photo of the week:

 

More pictures from our Maine weekend here, for anybody interested in the "after" lobster shot, etc. https://plus.google.com/photos/115033664787271164277/albums/6017711770535810241?authkey=CJy897yfmrSlgwE 

(Son of a Gun Gonna Have Some Fun) On the Bayou

When I was in college, and for a few years after that whenever I wasn’t deployed, I loved going to New Orleans for Mardi Gras. Back then, I didn’t mind crashing 5 to a hotel room and staying out all night and smelling like whatever unspeakable things Bourbon Street reeks of during that unfortunate stretch leading up to Fat Tuesday. The novelty eventually wore off and, as much as I love The Big Easy the rest of the year (minus Gay Southern Pride Week, another horrific celebration of the absence of inhibition, which I accidentally discovered one awful trip), I’m sad to say that I haven’t been back since Hurricane Katrina.

So it was with some pleasure that I discovered, stepping off the plane on this warm, humid Friday night, that it still smelled like New Orleans, an acrid mix of salt and brackish water and tar and chicory. Even my pitch-black drive through the bayou to Grand Isle was nostalgic and felt like a familiar adventure, having made similar swampy, creepy drives on a lot of road trips of years gone by. I swear in Cajun Country you can “feel the voodoo,” as my Tulane friends used to say.

The Gulf Shore is an entirely different story, but I suppose it has its own charm. Mostly, if you like to fish. We were there for StanBrock’s Black & Gold Classic, put on by Seth’s former coach Stan Brock. We were even billed as “celebrities” and got to stay in a cabin that was, in effect, a trailer on stilts. My deepest weekend regret is that I didn't get a photo of this thing.

At any rate, we had a blast. The event meant a great deal to Seth, who loved having the opportunity to help out (and hang out with) one of his most influential mentors.  He had desperately wanted to attend last year, but the broken ex fix got in the way and he was beyond disappointed to have to cancel- so getting to go this year was an even bigger deal. Getting to shoot Benelli shotguns and stuff himself with Cajun cooking and beer didn’t hurt either, and he loved getting to trade stories with all the NFL greats that Stan rounded up.

 

I was under no delusion that I was an actual event bigwig, but the Brock family was delightful and fun, and I got in a run on the beach and some much-needed downtime. I did not particularly enjoy, for the second weekend in a row, having to put myself to bed early while everyone else got to drink beer by the water (one of my very favorite things), but the Brocks promised that we could come back next year. And Seth is going to owe me some major babysitting.

Our relaxing weekend was over too soon, and I headed back to the rat race Sunday night (complete with late-night beltway traffic) while Seth went west for a weeklong training event. I arrived home and was greeted with standing water in our flooded basement, proving that you do generally wind up earning your beach time. Well worth it.

 

This is my favorite picture from the weekend, and not just because I know what happened a couple hours later. (Hey- it’s a time-honored south Louisiana tradition to indulge a little and refund on crawfish!)

Fargo

My birthday week culminated in a trip to Fargo, which most of my friends found hilarious. But we had decided months ago to participate in the Fargo Marathon festivities with Seth’s parents, and getting to see and his Mom do the 5k together was totally worth the trip.

Although it was quite a trip! Someone who shall remain nameless had waited until the last minute to make travel arrangements, so we wound up flying into Minneapolis and driving the 3.5+ hours to Fargo, making it to the start line in time to meet Jayne literally by the skin of our teeth. Always an adventure...

For my 30^th birthday I did my first 50 miler, at Bear Mountain. For my 31^st I ran 31 miles (with a relay of Soldiers) in Afghanistan. For my 32^nd, I did another ultra. And I’ve kind of slacked off since then.  I met Seth on my 33^rd after a long day on the drop zone (but no run), and last year we made a whirlwind trip to Fayetteville (and had a terrific night at the Pinehurst) but Seth’s ex fix broke and we landed right back at Walter Reed. I may have gone for a jog in there, but it wasn’t anything to write home about.

 

This year I was determined to resume my tradition, at least within the limits of a still-healing ankle and being knocked up. I ran a beautiful 10k through Fargo (which had awesome spectators and great music for the big event) the morning of my 35^th, and although the distance didn’t wow, it felt right. Birthday runs were back on, after a couple crazy hiatus years.

I met Seth and his parents for brunch at a diner afterwards, and we stuffed ourselves with pancakes. That afternoon, I stole their dog and dragged her for a walk along the Buffalo River, where I had camped on my epic road trip adventure almost two years before.

I’ll spare the details of the rest of my birthday. Let’s just say that 1) the honest to God only bad part of pregnancy so far is being the tired, sober one while everyone around you drinks and has a good time, and 2) it’s a good thing Seth had gone all out for my birthday week prior. I toasted my 35^th alone with mediocre cheesecake and a tall glass of water that night, but all in all felt pretty good about where this milestone birthday found me. It was hard to believe I had met Seth two years ago, in a Fayetteville bar. You just really never know where life is going to take you. I’m lucky that mine never stops being an adventure.

 We got to spend Mother’s Day (morning, anyway) with the Niemans, and we celebrated with brunch at Kroll’s (apparently an ND institution.) I had definitely not thought about getting to share Mother’s Day, but Jayne and Tony had a present for me! And Seth got me an insanely amazing stroller. A BOB, which comes highly recommended. It seriously has offroad tires. It wasn’t put together at the time, but I’ll fish up a picture of this monster for next week.
 

At any rate, it was a nice weekend and getting to be in ND for the 5k and Mother’s Day was really special. The trip back, however, saw awful weather in Chicago (as usual) which caused us to spend all night waiting on delayed flights and resulted in two hours of sleep for me before work Monday. It was going to be quite a week, and we scrambled to get work and laundry and packing for another weekend away done. May really is nuts!

Photo of the week is here, from a story that just came out about Seth’s work at the Mission Command Conference a couple weeks ago.
http://www.army.mil/article/125657/Mission_Command_Conference_seeks_to_inspire___/

My Birthday Week

I hate surprises. I always have, and I’m not big on birthdays or holidays either. I blame Mom and Dad, of course, and feel generally grateful for having been raised the way we were, with flex-holidays based on when people could get together, a preference for the non-Hallmark moments, and a strong overall aversion to being given things.

And then I married Seth, who loves both holidays and surprises, gives over-the-top gifts, brings home flowers on random Tuesdays, and gets more excited about Christmas than most school age children. It’s taken some adjusting. Don’t get me wrong, nobody in their right mind complains about a husband who remembers anniversaries and keeps flowers on the table. But I suffer from a serious (probably lifelong) inferiority complex where it comes to gift purchasing and making birthdays special.
 

At any rate, Seth has outdone himself again, throwing me a birthday week for the ages.

Friday night was date night, and by the time it rolled around I was exhausted. I guiltily asked if we could cancel dinner plans and order pizza, and Seth came home with not only my favorite from Ledo’s, but also one of everything in the Whole Foods pastry case. And then didn’t complain when I passed out early in front of the TV.

 

Saturday morning we slept in, had leftover cheesecake for breakfast in bed, and did our first yardwork of the year in gorgeous spring weather. We had finally gotten a new mower, and for the first time Seth mowed the yard. After last summer, with Seth confined to a wheelchair while Mom and I mowed and weeded and trimmed, it felt like a major milestone (and looked way better than when I wandered aimlessly about with the mower, creating a lawn that appeared to have been marked by alien crop circles.) I had an afternoon pedicure date with Michelle and Grace, and we headed for the quiet, sun-drenched streets of Del Ray, where we took our time shopping and catching up and being buffed and polished. Grace and I even talked Michelle into gourmet french fries for lunch. I was having the kind of lazy Saturday afternoon I usually only dreamed about.
 

And then we got back to Michelle’s, and I walked in with my arms full of purchases (including a pair of completely ridiculous but adorable pink baby shoes), and Josh jumped out from behind a pillar with somebody’s baby, and a ton of people yelled “surprise!” and I nearly had a heart attack. My first-ever surprise party.

 

It was a terrific evening. Michelle and Seth had gotten a hodgepodge of all of our friends together, and put together such a great spread (Michelle's mac & cheese and buffalo chicken and two kinds of cheesecake and Mom's tiramisu!) that I didn’t really even miss beer. A terrific time was had by all, and the absolute highlight of the evening was watching Seth and Josh (a few beers in) put together the bike and baby trailer Seth had gotten me. An epic surprise, and a hilarious vignette (complete with upside-down instructions). I am in l-o-v-e with my retro pink cruiser (turquoise rims and shimano gears?! my cup runneth over), although the trailer is a tiny bit scary.

 

My Perfect Birthday Weekend continued Sunday with a late brunch in Cleveland Park with my friend Chris followed by a homemade triathlon (Seth’s idea). We picked up the second part of my birthday present- a bike for Seth- and then knocked out a swim in Walter Reed’s chilly saltwater pool, a jog along the canal, and a six mile bike ride- on which Seth delighted in going off and leaving me on his new, much-faster dualsport ride. I had been dying to ride bikes together along the C&O since we moved here, and watching the sun set over the Potomac capped off the perfect weekend. Surprises and all.

 

My birthday week celebration apparently continues, since last night we had a blast at the rained-out Nationals game (a mandatory work event that we had decided to make the best of), and tonight Seth just called and made the unheard-of offer of taking me out for ethnic food.

 

Maybe I could get used to this birthday thing.

 

Two photos of the week: one, of our diva niece Lehua, enjoying organic juice in the back of a convertible (she seriously has the life), and the other, of us being goofy at the ballpark. The beer was Seth’s. Mostly.