Procrastinating 101: For Those With Short Attention Spans, a Little Book on Procrastination

Having dawdled through the last volume selected for Procrastinating 101--Diana DeLonzor's Never Be Late Again:  7 Cures for the Punctually Challenged--today we begin to make our way through The Procrastinator's Digest:  A Concise Guide to Solving the Procrastination Puzzle, by Timothy Pychyl, Ph.D.

The good news is that Dr. Pychyl's book is intentionally short (though not that short--the image here is hyperbole).  As Pychyl says, in answer to the question he imagines his readers pondering--"Why is the book so short?"--

Too often, we start books, read the first chapter or two, and never pick it up again (although we intend to finish it!).  Among procrastinators, this is a terrible risk.  In fact, procrastination is defined by this intention-action gap.  I do not want to contribute to this, so I have written a short book.  [emphasis mine]

While it may be that Dr. Pychyl ran out of sabbatical before he could complete a longer book, I, for one, appreciate his brevity.  I embrace his rationale.  And I am looking forward to his ten short chapters, punctuated with mantras, comics, and practical advice.

The first of these begins with a definition we have seen before--

Procrastination is the voluntary delay of an intended action despite the knowledge that this delay may harm the individual in terms of the task performance or even just how the individual feels about the task or him- or herself.  Procrastination is a needless voluntary delay.

The definition underscores the chapter's mantra, and main point:  "All procrastination is delay, but not all delay is procrastination."

Personally, I am still trying to untangle this assertion as it applies to my own life, and task-challenges.  My formerly Catholic guilty self is prone to accepting blame for the type of delay Dr. Pychyl would let me off the hook for, while at the same time my lazy task-avoidant self tends to overuse excuses.  And then there are those I've met who complicate things by holding me responsible for life circumstances that promote delay--rather like the charge that individuals with cancer are culpable for the personality flaws that invited their disease.  In this vein is the "trainer" who accused me of having adopted one of my children in order to avoid completing my dissertation.

At the heart of the type of delay that is procrastination, says Pychyl, is "our own reluctance to act . . . when it is in our best interest to act."  Conquering procrastination, he asserts, relies on coming to "understand this reluctance," and implementing strategies to change what has become a habit of procrastinating.

In this first chapter, his "initial strategy for change" is to begin to distinguish delay from procrastination in our own lives.  As what he labels a "thought experiment," Dr. Pychyl advises listing "those tasks, projects, activites or 'things'" that we think we are procrastinating, and noting in writing--without overthinking--the thoughts and feelings we associate with each.

This seems useful, and do-able to me.  

My preliminary take:
 

Some Stuff I May Be Procrastinating About

Task, project, goal, activity	Feelings, thoughts about this task/goal
Working on my novel	Want uninterrupted work time Does the world need another half-baked story? Am I a good enough writer to do this project? Fear; frustration
Tackling the basement	Feeling overwhelmed Afraid to see how bad it is Not enough light, since the lighting project has not been completed
Researching/implementing Living Trust	One more complicated item to add to my already too-long list Afraid of the complexity, and the emotions stemming from step-family issues
Meditating	Too many other things to do Don’t have time Circumstances not conducive Difficulty settling down; distractions
Making travel arrangements	Worried about spending the money Too difficult to sort out all the scheduling issues Don’t like leaving my work and family
Making medical appointments	Worried about spending the money Afraid I’ll find out something bad Fear of having my blood pressure taken Difficulty squeezing appointments into my schedule

And now I'm supposed to look for patterns.  Hmmm. . . . Does it look like there's some fear at work here?

Done for the Week: Crossing the Finish Line

Back from my day at the races.  But not back to earth.  Not yet.  And not for a while, if I can help it.

Here's the story of what I got done last week: 

Done for the Week:  Aug. 15-21, 2011

1. Completed Week 15 of 15-week triathlon training program, resting for race; ran twice; biked once; swam twice
2. Worked out and meditated several times with my training partner
3. Attended second Open Water Swim class
4. Swam across the lake--sort of 
5. Rented new, larger, more life-sustaining wetsuit (unlike the one I own, this one permits breathing, which I've come to appreciate--the hard way!)
6. Continued working on pre-race anxiety, mental training, pre-race nutrition and hydration
7. Packed to leave town for the race
8. Picked up race packet; bought stuff at the expo 
9. Shared pre-race dinner with my husband and training partner
10. Did gear check with my training partner
11. Finished the race!!!  Beat even my stretch goal
12. Celebrated with my training partner and friend, who also finished with strength and grace
13. Attended triathlon camp reunion, post-race
14. Helped youngest son prepare for first long-distance flight on his own
15. Finished No Death, No Fear:  Comforting Wisdom for Life, by Thich Nhat Hanh
16. Continued to work my two part-time jobs 
17. Provided technical assistance to nonprofit organization
18. Meditated four times
19. Published 1 blog post
20. Continued reading Elizabeth George's In Pursuit of the Proper Sinner aloud with my husband
21. Continued work on current clients' projects
22. Attended Issues Night
23. Attended Jobs Prayer Vigil
24. Paid the monthly bills
25. Accomplished major cleaning/decluttering/rearrangement of main work room
26. Did laundry

Last week's focus goal was to "finish my training using the less-is-more and self-nurturing approach appropriate to the final days before the race."  Did that. 

Tuesday evening's pre-race swim across the lake proved even more of a hurdle than I had anticipated.  Last Monday I wrote about this planned workout that "I intend to get to the other side by any means necessary."  And by Tuesday night, I had delivered on that prediction.  The "means necessary" turned out to include yelling "Help!" in the middle of the lake when my extra small wetsuit and this year's two additional pounds combined in a way that was literally breathtaking.  After the motor boat came to my rescue, and I had regained my breath, but not my cool, I transversed about a third of the race distance using a "noodle."  Thus I joined the ranks of what my partner referred to as the "noodle girls."  A humbling, and scary experience overall.

Subsequent race preparation made room for learning all I could about how wetsuits can restrict breathing and contribute to panic attacks in the open water swim portion of a triathlon.  This led to re-thinking my sausage casing of a wetsuit, and deciding to rent one a size larger.  I also crammed in a short session in the pool on Friday trying out the borrowed suit.  The result?  I could breathe on race day, and made it all the way across the lake , without stopping to rest, or switching from freestyle.    Spent my way out a dilemma, but it was soooo worth it.

Last week's most important accomplishment--hands down--was finishing the triathlon.  Once again, I surprised myself by doing better than I expected.  I took 4:44 off the swim; 1:03 off T1 (the time spent shedding the wetsuit; getting on shoes, socks, helmet, Camelbak, and sunglasses; and, unfortunately discovering I had forgotten to unlock my bike before the race); 1:06 off T2 (bike to run); and 2:22 off last year's run time.  I added 1:18 to my bike time, but race officials had added 1.5 miles to the course this year.  My pace was just shy of 2 mph faster.  My net gain put me at 2:00:35--36 seconds over my "dream" goal of breaking 2 hours, nearly 2-1/2 minutes under my stretch goal of 2:03:00, and 4-1/2 minutes under the 2:05:00 I thought I would do.

Needless to say, I am ecstatic!  In my second tri, I moved from the back of the back of the pack, to a position near the middle--and in the top third of my age group. 

For today, I'm resting on my . . . ahem, laurels.  

My goal for the week:  come down gently, and as little as possible, from Cloud 9-3/4.

On the Road Again. . . with Trepidation

Is there truly a word for everything?  I  have recently discovered the word hodophobia, which means fear of travel.  The word derives from the Greek  "hodos" for path, and "phobos" for fear.  Some restrict its use to fear of road travel, and use the broader term agoraphobia to describe a general reluctance to be away from home.  But whatever we call it--I've got it.


There are some adventures in my past, though they pale next to those of my globe-trotting husband.  I wasn't always afraid to leave home without--well, pretty much everything I own.  But as life became more stressful in general, and I hunkered down to raise some high-maintenance kids, a nascent fear of flying grew into a general reluctance to go outside my increasingly narrow comfort zone.


I didn't indulge this fear--much.  For a couple of years post-Katrina, I practically commuted to New Orleans to help care for my frail father.  And my white-knuckle flying gradually took on some color, and was even, eventually, enjoyable.  The plane trips and the airport time, despite the TSA hassles and the blaring alert levels, became a corridor of solitude in a season of ceaseless demands from one generation or the other.  But the beleaguered part of me was no longer eager to attempt new or distant itineraries.  


This is not how I want to see myself, shivering in my shoes.  Nor do I want my world to be as small as it has become.  


In the dark hours of tomorrow morning, I am leaving for a city I haven't spent time in for over a decade.  The woman I was supposed to be traveling with was summoned ahead yesterday.  I am left with a complicated set of instructions for getting from the airport to my eventual destination, which include one light rail transfer and a forty-minute walk.  I'm thinking cab.  I feel like I will be hurtling myself headlong out of a hot air balloon.  And I imagine every one of my fellow travelers as totally confident, unfazed by uncertainty and the tyranny of the old brain--the bold and the beautiful.  I know better.  Really I do.  


The occasion of this trip is the Ntosake Training offered by the Gamaliel Foundation "for women who are serious about being and acting more powerfully."   Ntosake is a South African word meaning, “she who walks with Lions; she who carries her own things.” Over the course of three short days, our focus will be  

to understand our own history, allies, relationships, obstacles, and motivation and how these relate to building our power and public life.

I am attending Track 2, "for women in significant leadership positions in their organizations and/or communities."  


So if I'm already a significant leader, and I'm going to be walking with lions and carrying my own things (which reminds me--I need to finish this post and get to packing!), I'd better just get over this cowering thing.  I should eighty-six the image I hold of myself as flotsam to be tossed about by the vagaries of various modes of transportation, dashed on the rocks of the unexpected.


For this mission, I plan to channel The Fourth Little Pig--the title character in a book I used to read to my children, all the while listening in to its wisdom.  Pig Four, as we refer to her in our family, ultimately coaxes her three hapless, traumatized brothers out of hiding.  In the wake of their terrorizing by the Big Bad Wolf, they had sequestered themselves together in the house of bricks where the wolf had met his end.  They had determined that the world was way too scary a place to inhabit.  But Pig Four didn't rest until she had lured them hence with promises of picnics, canoe trips and fudge.  And of course, this being a children's story, they all lived happily, and audaciously ever after.


And so tomorrow, once more, into the breach, errr, jetway.  

On Backing Down, Pulling Out, and Other Failures of Nerve

I'm beginning to see that chickening out, at least in some arenas, may be a behavior I can no longer afford.  


My mother blames our Irish genes for our fearful world view.  My therapist notes the many stressors in my life, past and present.  Sociologists might point out the effects of status inconsistency on a woman raised in a period of dormant feminism who has aspired to typically male professional positions.  But whatever the cause, I have spent too much of my life cowering.


I can remember as a child following a long line of nervy kids up the ladder to the high dive platform.  And slithering past others on my way back down, having balked at the moment of truth.  As an adult, I have been known to back down freeway entrance ramps that I had mistakenly entered, rather than face the terror of expressway driving.  I have cancelled trips and turned down jobs, always for good reason, but often a part of me has breathed a huge sigh of relief at not having to face those unknowns.


Of course, completing a triathlon was a big countermove.  As was my brother-in-law's skirmish with skydiving.  I should say, however, that I don't intend to take on all challenges to my knocking knees, just for the sake of vanquishing fear.  Nor do I expect to become fearless.  And just for the record, don't look for me to be tumbling out of the sky any time soon, with or without parachute.


But I do need to keep up the campaign, to, as Eleanor Roosevelt so wisely instructed, "[d]o one thing every day that scares [me]."  Or, I would add, that seems hard, for whatever reason.  That should be relatively easy to achieve at this point, since I am in a particularly fearful and easily overwhelmed state just now.  So today I will spend two hours working on my novel (yikes!), and sign up for a 5K race in three weeks (eek!).   A two-fer, to make up for previous laxity.


And tomorrow?  One more as yet undetermined small step for Mary, one giant leap for chicken-kind. . . 

Vacation Reruns, Part 5

This is the last post picked by my husband to rerun while I'm on vacation.  We return tomorrow.


His intro:

How could I not end with this beginning. You can do anything. 

THURSDAY, AUGUST 26, 2010

Now What?

Part of a group of 10 young Nepalese women who scaled Mt. Everest in 2008

Finishing the triathlon I first dreamed of entering 11 months ago brings me once again to the challenge of coming down from a personal Mt. Everest.  My intention is to handle this descent with more grace and aplomb than I have previously mustered on such occasions.

Earlier feats that have involved elements of fatigue, let-down, the need to rest without resting too long on one's laurels, a sudden shift in a rather stringent routine, and the question of  what new focus might arise, have included giving birth; completing a stint as a special ed para working one-on-one with a severely autistic child; finishing grueling semesters as a graduate student; turning in my master's thesis; passing doctoral prelims; coming to the end of semesters teaching college; helping care for my father through a long terminal illness; transporting my frail elderly parents back to their Louisiana home after Katrina brought them to live with me; and ending a number of demanding temporary jobs.  In each instance, I recall the inability to relax, to remember what I did for fun before being sucked into the vortex of this latest absorption.  


(Incidentally, my wetsuit model was Xterra's Vortex 3--an upgrade when the Volt I'd ordered was on back order.  And I experienced wearing this rubber deathgrip, especially at first, as though I'd been "sucked into" it.)


This time, in my latest venture, I tried to balance my effort throughout with yoga and meditation and mindful self-care, along with continued interest in other parts of my life.  It remains to be seen what the aftermath of the triathlon will bring.  But I suspect that, despite the unaccustomed high of the last few days--after a long difficult onslaught of challenging life events and circumstances, I am not used any longer to success, and to elation--I am going to have an easier time "coming down."  


For one thing, I don't intend to abandon the exercise that has become an important part of my life.  As the post-race soreness and tiredness recede, I am slowly resuming physical activity.  And I mean to adopt, and keep to, an "off-season" training routine that will maintain a base of the endurance and strength I worked so hard for.  


For another, I am enjoying a new calm, which I imagine is a product of having faced some pretty intense fears.  Other things that have intimidated me now seem more doable.  The lesson is fresh that "doing the thing I think I cannot do" brings amazing benefits.  And there are a lot more "things I think I cannot do" where that one came from.

For starters, there is the novel I started this summer, and put on the back burner in order to concentrate on the triathlon.  The feeling that "If I can do this, I can do anything" is waiting to be harnessed.  

Done for the Week: My Heart's Desire

A big week.  One I have been building toward for the last few months.  The road has been long, and twisting, and--like the bike portion of the triathlon, had a pretty steep hill toward the end.  But I reached the goal I have been working to believe in since last fall.  The rest of the stuff on this list is pretty much gravy.


Done List--Week of Aug. 16-22

1. Finished Week 14 of revised 14-week Sprint Triathlon training plan--0 weeks to go!
2. Attended last Open Water Swim Clinic
3. Completed gear assembly and preparation
4. Finished Sprint Triathlon
5. Finished Twenty Love Poems and a Song of Despair, by Pablo Neruda
6. Continued significant support to transitioning nonprofit organization
7. Attended fund-raiser for same
8. Worked my two part-time jobs
9. Published 5 blog posts
10. Meditated 4 times
11. Wrote 5 Gratitude Journal entries
12. Wrote 3 Morning Pages
13. Continued cleaning campaign
14. Attended 1 yoga class
15. Went out with my husband for Happy Hour; continued reading aloud Elizabeth George's In the Presence of the Enemy; saw Eat, Pray, Love together in my post-race stupor
16. Called my Mom
17. Paid some overdue health bills

So, did I mention I finished the triathlon?  You may recall that preparing for and completing the triathlon has been my focus goal for the last several weeks--thus highlighted in green above.  And because finishing the race is also my most important accomplishment of the last week, item #4 on the list above also appears in red, with apologies for the Christmasy colors in conjunction with the fireworks graphic, resulting in a bit of a holiday discord.

Before the triathlon, on Saturday, I wrote the following list of goals for the race:

Making it to the first swim platform

Enjoying some part of each segment

Finishing

Being good to myself

Positive self-talk

Noticing the beautiful day

Feeling good about and for all the participants

Giving myself credit for the effort

Managing my fear compassionately

My life doesn't usually go this way--at least not of late--but I graced with reaching all of them--and with exceeding them beyond my wildest dreams.  That is not to say that I set any land speed records.  In fact, I came in 1351st in a field of 1500, 17th of 25 in my age group.  But I had expected the 1/2 mile swim, 12 mile bike, and 3 mile run to take me around 2 hours and 45 minutes, including "transitions,"--the periods between the swim and the bike, and the bike and the run.  My "stretch" goal was to finish under 2-1/2 hours.  My actual time was 2:08!

The biggest surprise was the swim.  I had been dreading the open water swim ever since learning how many triathletes experience panic attacks during the swim.  I am a veteran of panic attacks, and try assiduously to avoid them, and, as I learned to say as a Catholic child, "the occasion of. . ." not sin, but panic attacks.  I had decided to rely on a swim angel, provided in this beginner-friendly race venue, specifically for women who are nervous about the open water.  So when my wave entered the water, I was paired with a woman who pledged to see me across the lake--along with another nervous swimmer.  Two nail-biters to each angel.

The woman who shared my angel got into trouble early on.  As she struggled, becoming more and more panicky, I treaded water, and even reversed course, to stay with her and our angel.  Part of the time, I was providing moral support to my fellow triathlete.  Finally, as the minutes ticked by and I made no progress across the lake, which was my only access to the rest of the race, I decided to swim on my own.  I learned later that the other woman was eventually transported out of the water by boat, and could not complete the race.  I was the lucky one.  I made it to the other side of the lake, even with the lost time, in less time than I had been able to swim the distance in a pool.  I stopped at none of the six platforms, though I did nearly swim into one.

I am sore and tired today, but crossing that finish line was everything I had imagined it to be when I first thought of trying to do it--one year ago, when watching my daughter complete her first triathlon.  There are few things in my life that have been as satisfying as doing that race.  And so I'll wear the numbers that were body-marked on my arms until they wear off, and the medal that all finishers receive until I'm ready to take it off.  

Next week's focus goal?  Figure out how to use the energy from this achievement.

Done for the Week: Clearing Another Hurdle

Another difficult week.  But things are beginning to turn around.  I have now had two nights of reasonable sleep, after two weeks of insomnia resulting from the same medication adjustments that brought me a prolonged bout of über anxiety.  And trust me, everything looks better on sleep.  I surprised myself putting together this list of what got done last week, given where my head was at, and where it wasn't!

Done List--Week of Aug. 2-8

1. Finished Week 12 of revised 14-week Sprint Triathlon training plan--2 weeks to go!
2. Began Open Water Swim Clinic
3. Attended triathlon prep camp
4. Made final adjustments to gear, supplies
5. Finished Noah's Compass, by Anne Tyler
6. Struggled with intense anxiety due to medication change--prevailed, with my family's support
7. Saw my doctor about blood pressure
8. Continued significant support to transitioning nonprofit organization
9. Worked my two part-time jobs
10. Published 5 blog posts
11. Meditated 4 times
12. Wrote 3 Gratitude Journal entries
13. Wrote 1 Morning Page
14. Continued cleaning campaign
15. Continued mini yoga practice 
16. Attended 2 yoga classes
17. Got new screen door--with doggie door--installed
18. Continued reading Elizabeth George's In the Presence of the Enemy aloud with my husband
19. Got two decent nights of sleep, after battling insomnia for two weeks

In green above are accomplishments related to last week's focus goal and my current obsession, preparing for the triathlon in two weeks.  The race, sponsored by Danskin with proceeds going to the Breast Cancer Research Foundation, has this motto:  "The Woman who starts the Race is not the same Woman who finishes the Race." I want that transformation.  I am learning, though, that we meet our best and our worst selves on the journey there.  My most potent demons are fear and the self-limitation it "inspires," obsessive tendencies, being relaxation-challenged, and an unrealistic desire to excel.  My better, more functional qualities that are serving me well are determination, compassion for myself and all the other women who are scared to death but will show up anyway, and a growing courage to match the fear.  I am also pretty dogged and resourceful when it comes to problem-solving.  My focus goal for the next two weeks will remain the completion of this "Outward Bound"-type venture.  

In red, and related to tri preparation, as well as to sanity and survival, is my week's most important achievement--getting two decent nights of sleep.  About mid-week, this began to seem like the impossible dream, as each night saw me waking after a couple of hours of sleep to hours of struggle.  As I padded to the bathroom, to the kitchen, and back to my makeshift bed where I wouldn't disturb my husband and my dog with my night wars, I despaired of sleeping normally in time to recover for the race.  On Saturday morning, I "rose" at 5 a.m. (having been awake since midnight) and left for the prep camp, where I would bike for 12 mi., do an open water swim, and bike the 5K running course--all on 3 hours of sleep, on top of a major sleep deficit from nearly two weeks of killer insomnia.  The good news is, I slept 6 hours that night, after a 2 hour nap on returning from the camp.  And last night, I slept a much-needed 8 hours.  I'm hopeful that this is a corner turned.

As I begin another week of this quest, I want to acknowledge my family's patience and support, and thank my husband for the flowers and the meals, my grandson for the laughs and the hugs, my daughter for her triathlon example in the face of her own health challenges,  my dog for his unceasing affection (even if it is a little wet at times), my sons for the love and their distracting demands, my sister for her encouragement and her humor, my meditation "homies" for their steadiness, and my friends for their faith.  If this sounds like an Oscar acceptance speech, consider that I don't expect to stand on any podiums when all is said and done.  In fact, I learned a new term this week--DFL, which stands for "dead f...ing last," as in "Do you know what we call the person who finishes DFL? A triathlete."  So I am renewing my original goal of finishing the race--my race--in the time it takes me.  And being humble and proud enough to live with that.

Done for the Week: Still Training After All These Weeks

Last week was a trying one, mainly because of the time spent on anxiety.  For anyone who hasn't had that particular thrill, it amounts to a lot of time feeling lousy.  In between minor out-of-the-blue terror attacks (terror, not terrorist),  I exercised, ate small frequent meals, failed at sleeping, and worked at not biting the heads off the people I love and live with.  Not my most productive period.  But if I am to believe some of those writing about my time of life, this experience can be seen as an opportunity to "finally, really grow up," to "awaken to my life's purpose," and to "let everything become my teacher."


Despite the lofty promises of its outcome, I can't say I'm really enjoying this course.  However, I did manage to get the following done last week:


Done List--Week of July 26-Aug. 1

1.  Finished Week 11 of revised 14-week Sprint Triathlon training plan--3 weeks to go!
2.  Continued assembling tri gear
3.  Finished The Comforts of a Muddy Saturday, by Alexander McCall Smith; Sabbath:  Finding Rest, Renewal, and Delight in Our Busy   Lives,  by Wayne Muller; When We Were Romans, by Matthew Kneale
4.  Spent time dealing with effects of medication change--extra resting  
5.  Continued my two part-time paying jobs
6.  Published 5 blog posts
7.  Meditated 5 times
8.  Wrote 5 Gratitude Journal entries
9.  Wrote 5 Morning Pages
10.  Continued cleaning campaign
11.  Continued mini yoga practice 
12.  Attended 1 yoga class
13.  Took my husband away for his birthday weekend; read, slept, biked, relaxed, walked; continued    reading aloud Elizabeth George's Deception on His Mind                                   

In red above is last week's most important accomplishment, something I've been putting off for far too long.  Unfortunately, my anxiety came along for the ride, but I did manage to leave my teenagers without the obsessive worrying I have experienced, and all too often for good reason, in the past.  A watershed event of our late parenthood.  And something to be repeated soon.

Last week's focus goal, and my focus goal for the next three weeks, was/is to continue training and preparing mentally for the triathlon, in three weeks.   On Sunday, I arrived home from our weekend away to find that my Size XS wetsuit had arrived--but not at my house.  UPS had delivered it to a neighbor, and I had received his King Size something-or-other.  We made the trade, so now I am ready to join a group of tremulous initiates at my first open water swim clinic on Tuesday evening.  (I don't know where my neighbor will be with his package.)  I am trying out "gels," which are little foil packets of quick energy food--something like an astronaut might relish, I imagine--and have tested my new "hydration system"--a Camelback water bottle held in a mesh sack suspended by a strap across my front, which allows me to drink while biking, without falling off.  

My times are holding fairly steady, around the tortoise mark, but my endurance is still increasing.  On Saturday, I will receive instruction in setting up for transitions (T1 from swim to bike, and T2 from bike to run) at an all-day triathlon prep camp.  I am awaking at night with visions of lining up with my wave at the race start, and refusing to get into the water.  I train, and rest, and talk about the tri.  I am enjoying the process less, and starting to feel the shortening countdown.  

Striving to reach this goal is like nothing I've ever done before.  The biggest thing to work on at this point is my head.  I am trying to come up with visualizations (one I encountered is thinking of fear as a balloon that you've held tied to your wrist since childhood, and of letting it go, blowing it away as you breathe through the events, up and away like those balloons I've seen released at funerals. . . . Oops!  Skip that last part.).  And mantras.  My daughter suggested modeling Stuart Smalley's affirmations (performed by SNL's now U.S. Senator Al Franken)--"I'm good enough, I'm smart enough, and, doggonit, people like me."  But that's just silly.  I came up with "I'm strong enough, I've trained enough, and gosh darnit, people like me."


But enough about the tri.  I'm late for a training run.