Pee Like Boy

Raise your hand if you've ever had to drop your drawers in the great outdoors.

O.K., just what I thought. That's everyone.

Learning to cop a squat is part of growing up being a girl. Then again, some girls can pee like a boy (one of my daughters has this mastered and so does my friend Tara). The rest of us who have tried, however, end up with wet legs, and worse, wet socks. But now, the ability to pee like a boy is within reach thanks to the all new "Go Girl" device.

I first saw the Go Girl at a bike expo, but I didn't know what it was for. What I saw was a hot pink funnel. And I thought about all the utensils in my kitchen and realized, "I don't have a funnel. Are they giving away pink funnels? How clever!" And imagined myself concocting some fabulous recipe using my hot pink funnel. That vision disappeared in an imaginary puff of powdered sugar when I was schooled in it's real use. And not cooking school, mind you. In not so many words I learned the hot pink funnel was a prosthetic penis of sorts.

Still. Clever.

But since I was at a bike expo I thought they were for peeing while on the bike, something I tried. Once. Not at all worth whatever time I saved. I had applied strips of Power Bar to my top tube to eat on the go. After relieving myself however, that soggy snack wasn't so appealing. Plus my bike shoes stank for weeks. Would a Go Girl device improve that calamity? Can you imagine pulling down your bike shorts and grabbing the hot pink funnel from your bike jersey? Taking one hand off the handlebars to steady the Go Girl to your nether region? No. OK, not something you would use on the bike or in the kitchen.

Still I was intrigued. I asked for one because I believed this could have purpose for the fit mama. When my Go Girl device arrived, like my last product review, I waited for the right moment--the necessary moment--to give it a try.

The time came while at the track one morning. The bathrooms were locked.

I had been in this predicament before and there's a handy set of bushes along the chain-link fence. If you're wearing traditional running shorts (not compression, bike-type shorts) you don't need to pull the shorts down over your bum. Just pull the crotch over to the side and go. You can pull flowers with the other hand and no one will ever know you're peeing.

But how can you be discreet with a hot pink funnel attached to your front parts? I let the opportunity pass. Maybe it wasn't the perfect "go-to" device for the female athlete. Still, I knew it had a purpose. I just hadn't happened upon it yet.

Later that week I took the kids strawberry picking. As soon as we arrived, so did my bladder. Nothing but a stinky port-a-potty available to me and my 4-year-old. Finally the moment had come and I tore open the Go Girl package with delight. I was even more delighted when I discovered the Go Girl comes packaged with some toilet paper, too. No need to air dry! And just as I hoped, using a port-a-potty isn't all that bad when you can pee like a boy.

Next up the 4-year-old. (Disclaimer: I'm sure the company doesn't condone sharing the Go Girl, but I figured sharing the Go Girl was less offensive than sitting my 4-year-old on the nasty toilet seat). We encountered a major problem. Small child wasn't tall enough. The Go Girl points down. She could not point this prosthetic penis up to form a urine arc into the potty. We abandoned the port-a-potty and took the hot pink Go Girl around back. She got to pee like a boy into the weeds instead. Fun stuff.

And that's where I found its real value. I can squat. Don't mind squatting. And as I learned traveling last week, I can squat over a toilet and hold a baby at the same time. As a fit mama, not only should I be able to do this, but I take just a tiny bit of pride in being able to do this. Plus, my legs get taxed so it counts as a legitimate squat. Multitasking at its best.

But small children aren't so proficient at squatting. Legs get splashed. Shoes get wet. The Go Girl saved the day. So, while I may not take it along on long runs, I'll definitely keep it in the car for road trips and I'd definitely want one on a camping trip (who wants to risk squatting in poison ivy?).

In my last product review/give away attempt I sent the same product I used. This time, I'm happy to announce, we won't be sharing. One lucky wiener--I mean winner--will get her very own Go Girl (sent directly from the manufacturer so you won't have to worry). When do you think a Go Girl would come in handy? Let me know and be entered to win!

Gone Too Soon

This wasn't the post I intended to write for the week, but darn it if death doesn't trump product review every time.

Death came to my my beloved 97-year-old grandfather on Friday. Most grandfathers are, as their title implies, grand. But Victor Hearon Douglass was extraordinary. He really knew how to live. And for him, living meant moving on an upward trajectory. Maybe that "live ethic" was a product of the times. He came of age during the Depression and was a member of the legendary Civilian Conservation Corps. He helped build highways, bridges and national parks, and with that experience he built the structure most important to me: his home on Floyd Way, where he raised his family. Those are a few of the tangible legacies he left. The intangible include getting his pilot's license, getting his college degree at 79, then his master's degree at 82. He loved English literature, especially poetry and was always reciting Wordsworth, Blake and Browning... "Grow old along with me! The best is yet to be..." He said his goal was always to be on an upward bound direction; trying to take advantage of opportunities for improvement. One of my favorite stories--oh, and there are so many I wish I could share--came just four years ago. And you'll love this one with me, I'm sure: he fell off his bike. At 93 years old, he just wanted to see if he could still ride. Short story is, he couldn't. He ended up in the hospital and his children were not happy with him (gotta love that payback) but I couldn't blame him for trying and a part of me was glad he did.

If Chris Hipp had lived to be 97, I'm certain he would have gotten on his bike for a ride at that ripe old age. Sadly, Chris died last week too. But he was only 47. I knew Chris from when we both lived in Dallas. He was a hardcore cyclist. I didn't know him very well--I don't think too many did by his design--but he was part of the runner/cyclist/triathlete kingdom that ruled White Rock Lake. And, for the last 15 years he was in a relationship with one of the nicest women I've ever had the pleasure of knowing, a woman I'd consider one of my triathlon mentors. Chris was a character--his intensity on the bike resulted in the most road rash I've ever seen on one human being. He was notorious for mixing it up: other cyclists, cars, small animals--he even got in a punching match with a motorist. I loved that he was defending all of us who ride. Share the road! Chris, was still racing and doing quite well up to his death. He combined talent with passion and fearlessness. Like my granddad, Chris excelled diversely. I knew he was a computer nerd, but evidently he was the kind of computer nerd that the New York Times takes note of. He, too, lived his life in an upward bound direction and leaves legacies, both tangible and intangible.

I believe you can have a good death so long as you meet two criteria: A good life, which you can have even when it's short, and a grand exit. When I first learned of Chris' death I half expected to hear he had been in an accident. But no. He was on his bike, yes, but he collapsed and died, perhaps from an aneurysm. But anyone who knew him would say that being on his bike would be the way he'd want to ride to that "great finish line in the sky." As for my granddad, he died at home with the dignity he so deserved, surrounded by his family, the people he considered his biggest contribution in life. These deaths couldn't have been scripted any better.

Sure, all this dying makes me sad, but it also makes me take note of how I'm living, the contributions I'm making, the legacies I'm leaving. When great people go, you can't help but do some self-evaluation. Which brings me to something I heard about the passing of Walter Conkrite from Diane Sawyer, which sums up how I'm feeling: "You miss these people who stand above the horizon a little and remind you where to look."

Kids Read: Lance in France

Last week I had the Tour de France on. I wasn't paying much attention as I picked up toys and cleaned up breakfast, but those things are made less mundane to the sound of Phil Ligget's voice. The girls were buzzing about looking for the next thing to do so I thought I'd quiz them about bike racing before they asked me to change the channel to a cartoon.

"Who wears the yellow jersey?" I asked, starting with the easiest question.

The right answer, of course, is "the guy who is winning" or "the leader." But right away my girls piped up, "Lance in France!"

Lance was not wearing the yellow jersey (and still isn't as of this posting), but this would have been the right answer had I been quizzing them about one of their favorite books.

I found the children's book, "Lance in France" in the bargain bin at a nearby grocery store this spring. Serendipity! We've been reading it regularly ever since.

As you know, I enjoy finding children's books about sports, fitness or those that encourage activity in one way or another. So I was pleased to find this for our fit kids library. You may not be able to add it to yours so easily--I'm told it's out of print--but keep searching, I'm a testament that it's out there.

The book is a kid-friendly guide to the Tour through the experiences of Lance Armstrong. Lance finds all kinds of adversity on the course aside from his competitors: bee stings, flat tires, and other realistic and not-so-realistic obstacles, along with episodes you may remember from Tours past: the observer who causes him to crash, the impromptu and spectacular off-road ride. The point being, he doesn't let anything stop him.

The book includes a page of biographical info about Lance and the Tour, as well as a letter from Lance. It begins, "When I was a little boy, I loved to ride my bike." So do my kids, and while they may not yet relate to his story or The Tour, that much they understand and have in common. He ends his letter with "Find out what you are good at and love to do. Go for it and never quit." Funny, that's what I tell them too, but I'm just their mom.

The greatness of the Tour is still lost on them. Saturday, when my husband came home after finishing the Life Time Triathlon--still salty, sweaty, and wearing his race singlet--he turned on the television to find out what was happening in the stage. One of our daughters asked him, "Is that the race you just did?"

The Decision

Yesterday I had a sitter for most of the day. Her role was to be my clone. The day was whacky and packed with busyness: one daughter had tennis in the morning, all three girls had their summer park program in the afternoon, and another daughter had soccer in the evening. Throw in a baby who is just starting to figure out a regular nap schedule, five loads of laundry, meals, and one grand mal tantrum that ended with a bloody nose (I have no idea if it was self-inflicted but it got her out of time out) and I could not have managed my day without help. With said help on hand I was hoping to write up a post for Mama Sweat, squeeze in a workout and recoup a little sleep via a nap. (I haven't had three hours of straight sleep in more than a week. I don't expect The Boy to sleep 12 hours like my neighbor's 4-month old--that is so annoying!--but we're working on getting back to the 6 or 7 hours we were getting last month. That is a post for another website, or an essay, or a rant for a support group...)

Whenever I have a sitter I always think I can get more done than is realistically possible. So it happened yesterday. At the end of the day I realized I had 30 minutes left where she could watch all four kids and I could escape. What to do? Sleep was out of the question. Thirty minutes couldn't do the sleep deficit justice. I hadn't blogged yet this week and while no one is holding a gun to my head to write (or dolling out wads of cash, either) I like the self-imposed structure of this ongoing dialogue. (Read: stay-at-home mommy of four needs connection with outside world). The decision wasn't all that hard. I needed the run. Sometimes exhaustion warrants crashing on the sofa. Sometimes, though, moving, fresh air, and a little solitude gives a better return on my energy level than a nap.

I'm still sleep deprived, but I got my workout in. And here's my post for the week. (I'm betting no one missed me). I'm feeling a little like I can do it all (so long as I can get a good baby sitter).

Family Fatness vs. Family Fitness

I couldn't help feel a little smug while reading today's headline in our newspaper: "More Fit than Fat: State's Kids No.1." I do believe Minnesota gets a lot of things right. Neighborhood parks are one; they are everywhere. The active, outdoor culture is another. People here have bike races and golf tournaments on frozen lakes. Still, the news just after that back-slapping headline is grim: 23 out of every 100 Minnesota kids are overweight. Yikes. That's a lot. What am I proud of? We're the best of the worst?

The article stems from a report by the nonprofit, Trust for America. I learned that in Mississippi, which ranks last for childhood obesity nearly half of children there are overweight. The other shocker: childhood obesity rates have almost tripled since 1980.

But you knew this already. So did I. Because I'm writing this blog and you're reading this blog we're already working to reverse these stats, to do our part to keep our own kids healthy. But as I was walking the dog this morning I came to realize that somehow we need to extend our reach. With numbers like that we need to be fit role models, not just for our own children, but other children too.

If you have the time, energy or inclination to do something big like organize an after school fitness program, fantastic. But I think as parents we can extend that reach as fit role models in small meaningful ways that can add up. Here are my suggestions:

--If you volunteer to read a book at your child's school, read one that encourages kids' fitness.
--When kids come over to play at your house, turn off the video games and organize a game of kickball.
--Maybe your children know how to ride a bike but the kid down the street may not. Help him learn.

How else can we inspire the young community around us to be more active?