<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9669164</id><updated>2012-02-18T20:35:44.478-08:00</updated><category term='qui'/><category term='Live your passion'/><category term='turkey al cold rain'/><category term='Rant'/><category term='lyp'/><title type='text'>Pedal power!</title><subtitle type='html'>Training thoughts, ideas, observations on the road of life to pedaling in circles really, really fast.</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jentriplett.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9669164/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jentriplett.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><link rel='next' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9669164/posts/default?start-index=101&amp;max-results=100'/><author><name>JT</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18026901815568787055</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='29' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-ZWkqn6HoSjc/Te8EVkgLGcI/AAAAAAAABYY/RCAX0W2WWbk/s220/jt.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>1591</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9669164.post-250513088433279603</id><published>2012-02-17T20:19:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2012-02-17T20:21:06.459-08:00</updated><title type='text'>I love Colorado.</title><content type='html'>The mountains are calling to me again - urging me to explore and play in them. Each day I wake up in the shadow of Pikes Peak and smile inwardly and outwardly, its beauty striking. I absolutely love it here.&amp;nbsp; I've created a perfect balance of outward expression and inward reflection and the days pass with amazing harmony and clarity. To have this gift, to know how much I'm living in the present, embracing life as it happens, is so fulfilling.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It took ten years. Ten years of talking about moving to the mountains, being pulled and lured by its beauty, and now I have arrived. I am living life exactly how I want to be living it - simply, harmoniously, and with so much love. I am surrounded by beauty that reflects my soul and makes me feel so connected. I ride through its peaks and valleys and observe all that is going on around me. I am excited by all of the opportunities and experiences to live and still need to be pinched daily as a reminder that this isn't a dream. This is real.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;May you all find that place and live there. I found it in Colorado.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9669164-250513088433279603?l=jentriplett.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jentriplett.blogspot.com/feeds/250513088433279603/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9669164&amp;postID=250513088433279603' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9669164/posts/default/250513088433279603'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9669164/posts/default/250513088433279603'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jentriplett.blogspot.com/2012/02/i-love-colorado.html' title='I love Colorado.'/><author><name>Jennifer Triplett</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/102478281216127385889</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//lh6.googleusercontent.com/-769wQl2SR3s/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAAAks/Bygkya7neNw/s512-c/photo.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9669164.post-2852646553840462608</id><published>2012-02-14T19:17:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2012-02-14T19:17:17.976-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Bike Love</title><content type='html'>The sun shone brightly today. It lifted my spirits after a week of clouds and snow, and hours upon hours of trainer time in the basement. I did a little rearranging, a little planning and those lactic threshold repeats were completed outside on the shallow side of Gold Camp, in the bright warm sun. As I climbed, my smile spread, or at least on the inside it did. To the outside world, it was certainly a grimace. The deer along side the road my fan club, my computer showing my target power numbers and my mind willing my body to do it. Synchronicity. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If I can't spend the day with my sweetie, then spending on the bike is a nice alternative. And spending it outdoors, breathing fresh air, soaking in the views during my recovery between sets - ahhhhhh. The new bike is pretty sweet.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Things are busy right now. I'm working a random schedule at the Market, fitting in my three workouts a day, walking the dogs, getting some writing and reading done and staying busy as the days tick by. After a few short weeks at the Market they asked if I would be interested in a more serious role with the company... more details on that to come shortly.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hopefully tomorrow the sun will poke out and I'll get some more quality time outdoors on the bike. I hope your day was full of love, like mine was. And with that, I leave you with some Moonli love.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-zeGD15iQ2wg/TzsjbzDzV5I/AAAAAAAAAtE/zJxI_8LTg6c/s1600/moonli" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-zeGD15iQ2wg/TzsjbzDzV5I/AAAAAAAAAtE/zJxI_8LTg6c/s320/moonli" width="180" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9669164-2852646553840462608?l=jentriplett.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jentriplett.blogspot.com/feeds/2852646553840462608/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9669164&amp;postID=2852646553840462608' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9669164/posts/default/2852646553840462608'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9669164/posts/default/2852646553840462608'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jentriplett.blogspot.com/2012/02/bike-love.html' title='Bike Love'/><author><name>Jennifer Triplett</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/102478281216127385889</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//lh6.googleusercontent.com/-769wQl2SR3s/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAAAks/Bygkya7neNw/s512-c/photo.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-zeGD15iQ2wg/TzsjbzDzV5I/AAAAAAAAAtE/zJxI_8LTg6c/s72-c/moonli' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9669164.post-4894677735291216287</id><published>2012-02-11T07:10:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2012-02-11T07:10:22.591-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Winter promises.</title><content type='html'>&lt;br /&gt;Winter's shawl wrapped tight as snow drifts through the air, landing with determination.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It is 9 degrees outside.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Finally, this is winter in Colorado. This is why leaves fall earlier than normal, color gone from the landscape and animals hibernating. This is why I have an enormous puffy coat collecting dust in the closet until today.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is why man created the trainer. Four hours of fun.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We need this snow - to fill our reservoirs, to feed the land, to get me back to my grout project. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9669164-4894677735291216287?l=jentriplett.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jentriplett.blogspot.com/feeds/4894677735291216287/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9669164&amp;postID=4894677735291216287' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9669164/posts/default/4894677735291216287'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9669164/posts/default/4894677735291216287'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jentriplett.blogspot.com/2012/02/winter-promises.html' title='Winter promises.'/><author><name>Jennifer Triplett</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/102478281216127385889</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//lh6.googleusercontent.com/-769wQl2SR3s/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAAAks/Bygkya7neNw/s512-c/photo.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9669164.post-175716209935191227</id><published>2012-02-09T06:55:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2012-02-09T07:12:48.136-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Miss Fix It</title><content type='html'>Signs it's about time to get back on the bike:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. You actually start those nagging house projects.&lt;br /&gt;2. You buy power tools to do said house projects.&lt;br /&gt;3. You walk outside, oblivious to the cold, and yearn to be outside longer. &lt;br /&gt;4. Try as you may to NOT eat like you were while riding 15+ hours a week on the bike you still are.... uh oh.&lt;br /&gt;5. You're starting to enjoy the time off.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yesterday I tackled the grout replacement project in our upstairs bathroom. A few longer showers than normal, a couple of calls to the plumber to pinpoint our leak and I find myself in Bob Villa mode visiting Home Depot to fix it and fix it right. When grout dries out (something that happens to all grout, and it seems to be accelerated in dry Colorado), it needs to be replaced, pronto. Ignore it and that water build up behind the walls will make things worse.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Finding guidance online and confident it was an easy remedy, I headed to the Depot to buy grout and sealant. Two employees were mulling around in the tile section and I got to drill them on what to do and the best way to fix it. Turns out my initial scraping it with a small screwdriver was only going to make it worse. Unless you remove ALL the old grout from between the tiles, it's just going to crack and dry again. Liken the process to tartar build up on your teeth. If you don't remove it all then the new tartar will build up on the old and cause problems: cavities. Or in this cause: water damage. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A couple of hand tools will do the job, but after explaining to fellas the size of the area (which really isn't that big), they recommended a Dremel. And not just any Dremel, the MULTI MAX. With versatility and a grout removing option, it's a homeowners dream tool. And it would cut my workload into less than half. $99 for the tool, $30 for a grout attachment and I was walking out the door confident I could do this myself. I admit, buying a power tool made me feel manly. Tim Allen would be proud. Arf, arf, arf. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I get home, ready to tackle the grout and what do I discover? I need more tools. Like a power cord, mask, gloves and the right adapter. I bought the 1/8 one, and my tiles are much closer together - 1/16". And my premixed grout is off in color. Come on, if I'm going to do this right then it's going to look professional. Ha!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-KqddQZAhTNY/TzPiPH5vW1I/AAAAAAAAArU/DZamJmTGW_o/s1600/dremel.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="180" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-KqddQZAhTNY/TzPiPH5vW1I/AAAAAAAAArU/DZamJmTGW_o/s320/dremel.jpg" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Dremel is loud. Put it in a ceramic tiled bathroom with acoustics that reflect my next day job singing voice and it is wicked loud. Ear plugs are certainly in order. Makiah and Moonli curious at first by what I was doing have retreated to the back bedroom downstairs, the furthest point from where I'm working.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I get about 30 minutes in and have to head to an appointment. And back to the Depot - turns out I need that grout removing hand tool after all for the right angle seams and caulking. But hey, at least I started! I hope to be regrouting before the weekend.... and before I get back on the bike. We all know once that happens then my spare time is gobbled up by lounging on the couch.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Got any experience with grout and tiles and want to share your tips? Please do!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9669164-175716209935191227?l=jentriplett.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jentriplett.blogspot.com/feeds/175716209935191227/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9669164&amp;postID=175716209935191227' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9669164/posts/default/175716209935191227'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9669164/posts/default/175716209935191227'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jentriplett.blogspot.com/2012/02/miss-fix-it.html' title='Miss Fix It'/><author><name>Jennifer Triplett</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/102478281216127385889</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//lh6.googleusercontent.com/-769wQl2SR3s/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAAAks/Bygkya7neNw/s512-c/photo.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-KqddQZAhTNY/TzPiPH5vW1I/AAAAAAAAArU/DZamJmTGW_o/s72-c/dremel.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9669164.post-5342862274008423506</id><published>2012-02-07T06:01:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2012-02-07T06:01:35.411-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Gut instincts.</title><content type='html'>I recently came across a website titled, "Advanced Riskology."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The author, Tyler, is from Portland, Oregon, 26 years old and a writer, adventurer and risk taker. He has thousands of hits a day on his website and comments galore as he talks about stepping outside of your comfort zone and doing something that is "risky."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He created a list that contains things on it that collectively less than 1% of the world do. Things like skydiving (check!), scuba diving the Great Barrier Reef, flying an airplane (check), steer a ship (check), sell a business for $1,000,000, raise $250,000 for charity, found a non-profit (contradicts the other sale, no?) and on and on. If you want to check out the full list - &lt;a href="http://www.advancedriskology.com/1-percent-club/"&gt;go here.&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's funny reading the comments and how critical people are of other people's dreams and desires. Sometimes the comments are supportive and others point out the why you shouldn't do this - you should do that. Unfortunately, if you are willing to put your dreams out there then there's always going to be someone who will tell you can't do something.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why is that?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I digress.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I posed Tyler a question in the comments. I asked if your intuition, hunch, dreams or whatever you want to label them point you in the direction of doing a so called risk, then is it really a risk? Or is it more about trusting yourself? And trusting yourself, to me, seems like the biggest risk of all.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Have you ever been faced with a situation and your gut immediately points you in a direction, only to be bombarded with rational thought and reason into another direction? How often do you follow that gut instinct? How many times have you made that rational decision, only to discover later that your initial hunch was spot on, then kicked yourself for not listening to yourself? How many times do you have to learn this lesson before you start listening to your gut?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"The greatest risk of all is the one not taken."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Personally, I've been listening to my gut more and more lately and it's opening up doors I never knew were closed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Side note - it's been a LONG rest week. I'm starting to get antsy to get back on the bike (a good sign!). Can you tell by the subjects I bring up? Yeah, thought so.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9669164-5342862274008423506?l=jentriplett.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jentriplett.blogspot.com/feeds/5342862274008423506/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9669164&amp;postID=5342862274008423506' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9669164/posts/default/5342862274008423506'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9669164/posts/default/5342862274008423506'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jentriplett.blogspot.com/2012/02/gut-instincts.html' title='Gut instincts.'/><author><name>Jennifer Triplett</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/102478281216127385889</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//lh6.googleusercontent.com/-769wQl2SR3s/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAAAks/Bygkya7neNw/s512-c/photo.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9669164.post-585481745112488383</id><published>2012-02-06T20:06:00.002-08:00</published><updated>2012-02-06T20:06:50.178-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Spoiler alert</title><content type='html'>Oh boy, big things are happening again. A surge of energy, of possibilities... doors opening and dreams followed.....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Stay tuned!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9669164-585481745112488383?l=jentriplett.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jentriplett.blogspot.com/feeds/585481745112488383/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9669164&amp;postID=585481745112488383' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9669164/posts/default/585481745112488383'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9669164/posts/default/585481745112488383'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jentriplett.blogspot.com/2012/02/spoiler-alert.html' title='Spoiler alert'/><author><name>Jennifer Triplett</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/102478281216127385889</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//lh6.googleusercontent.com/-769wQl2SR3s/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAAAks/Bygkya7neNw/s512-c/photo.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9669164.post-1152760634711477442</id><published>2012-02-05T16:39:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2012-02-05T16:39:14.275-08:00</updated><title type='text'>My Secret...</title><content type='html'>Every now and then my body and mind craves mountain time. Being surrounded by peaks larger than life, with their unique weather systems and unmatched beauty brings a sense of calmness in my life. It grounds me in ways that some may not understand but others totally get. I could spend hours, if not days upon lifetimes staring out at their vistas. Spending time outdoors leaves me refreshed, clear headed and ready to tackle where ever my journey may take me next.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today's drive to Keystone gave me 2.5 hours of uninterrupted listening of several podcasts.&amp;nbsp; I'm inquisitive about metaphysics, the unanswered questions in life, the big picture thinking and how to manifest your own destiny. I've always been, even as a kid. But lately I can't get enough on the subject. I'm whizzing through books, spending hours reading on the web, writing a ton and really doing some exploration on the subject. And I'm not the only one - weeding through the iTunes library of "intuitive" topics was a little overwhelming. But I immediately found some gems and they sparked fantastic trains of thought, affirmations and even "hey, that's exactly what I do!" comments. Funny, they just kind of came to me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you haven't heard about this guy, you have now. Dr. John DeMartini. He has inspired millions of people as a healer and was dyslexic as a child and now has authored hundreds of books. "You're the master of your destiny, the captain of your ship."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sound familiar?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;http://topics.myfoxboston.com/m/34547411/living-a-fulfilling-and-purposeful-life.htm&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oprah's on it too: http://youtu.be/KYFIN6Csr0k&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;http://youtu.be/NPPGDfuk8aE&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9669164-1152760634711477442?l=jentriplett.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jentriplett.blogspot.com/feeds/1152760634711477442/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9669164&amp;postID=1152760634711477442' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9669164/posts/default/1152760634711477442'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9669164/posts/default/1152760634711477442'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jentriplett.blogspot.com/2012/02/my-secret.html' title='My Secret...'/><author><name>Jennifer Triplett</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/102478281216127385889</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//lh6.googleusercontent.com/-769wQl2SR3s/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAAAks/Bygkya7neNw/s512-c/photo.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9669164.post-1944612539647347159</id><published>2012-02-04T17:43:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2012-02-04T17:43:00.829-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Just because</title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;When Great Trees Fall&lt;br /&gt;Maya Angelou&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;When great trees fall,&lt;br /&gt;rocks on distant hills shudder,&lt;br /&gt;lions hunker down&lt;br /&gt;in tall grasses,&lt;br /&gt;and even elephants&lt;br /&gt;lumber after safety.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When great trees fall&lt;br /&gt;in forests,&lt;br /&gt;small things recoil into silence,&lt;br /&gt;their senses&lt;br /&gt;eroded beyond fear.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When great souls die,&lt;br /&gt;the air around us becomes&lt;br /&gt;light, rare, sterile.&lt;br /&gt;We breathe, briefly.&lt;br /&gt;Our eyes, briefly,&lt;br /&gt;see with&lt;br /&gt;a hurtful clarity.&lt;br /&gt;Our memory, suddenly sharpened,&lt;br /&gt;examines,&lt;br /&gt;gnaws on kind words&lt;br /&gt;unsaid,&lt;br /&gt;promised walks&lt;br /&gt;never taken.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Great souls die and&lt;br /&gt;our reality, bound to&lt;br /&gt;them, takes leave of us.&lt;br /&gt;Our souls,&lt;br /&gt;dependent upon their&lt;br /&gt;nurture,&lt;br /&gt;now shrink, wizened.&lt;br /&gt;Our minds, formed&lt;br /&gt;and informed by their&lt;br /&gt;radiance,&lt;br /&gt;fall away.&lt;br /&gt;We are not so much maddened&lt;br /&gt;as reduced to the unutterable ignorance&lt;br /&gt;of dark, cold&lt;br /&gt;caves.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And when great souls die,&lt;br /&gt;after a period peace blooms,&lt;br /&gt;slowly and always&lt;br /&gt;irregularly.&amp;nbsp; Spaces fill&lt;br /&gt;with a kind of&lt;br /&gt;soothing electric vibration.&lt;br /&gt;Our senses, restored, never&lt;br /&gt;to be the same, whisper to us.&lt;br /&gt;They existed.&amp;nbsp; They existed.&lt;br /&gt;We can be.&amp;nbsp; Be and be&lt;br /&gt;better.&amp;nbsp; For they existed.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9669164-1944612539647347159?l=jentriplett.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jentriplett.blogspot.com/feeds/1944612539647347159/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9669164&amp;postID=1944612539647347159' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9669164/posts/default/1944612539647347159'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9669164/posts/default/1944612539647347159'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jentriplett.blogspot.com/2012/02/just-because.html' title='Just because'/><author><name>Jennifer Triplett</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/102478281216127385889</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//lh6.googleusercontent.com/-769wQl2SR3s/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAAAks/Bygkya7neNw/s512-c/photo.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9669164.post-2494556369324695170</id><published>2012-01-31T20:30:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2012-01-31T20:30:35.117-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Never a dull moment.</title><content type='html'>Okay, I think I posted that last entry 8 hours too soon. Sure, my tired legs are still tired. But my mind is whirling with possibilities and hope - something that came at just the right time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sorry that last post had the "poor me" tone. Those who really know me, know that's not the norm. I was born with an optimistic disposition and when I get the "poor mes" its because I'm either a) tired or b) hungry or c) both. So, with proper nutrition, hydration and a couple of key conversations during the day - unexpectedly my reset button was pressed.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt; I started working a couple of weeks ago at Garden of the Gods Gourmet. I emailed their website on a whim and said that I loved food, they loved food, so hey, we should do something about it. You can imagine my surprise when I got a phone call a few days later for an interview. Turns out they're looking for someone part time, to work in a variety of positions. They called me back within the next week and I hit the ground running.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I started running catering gigs all over the city - learning quickly and by doing. It's amazing how much you learn when you have to stack several platters of food on one cart, light Sterno, wear gloves, polishing stainless steel, setting things up, coordinating with chefs, grabbing proper utensils, not running red lights (even if that means a whole van load of leftovers comes hurling at you since you decided to brake suddenly), where things go and where they don't, when the cookies are fresh,&amp;nbsp; remembering silverware, etc. and the millions of other details that still make my head spin. Oh, and don't be late! If you're late for a delivery then a certain substance may hit the fan. And no, I'm not talking about the spilled leftovers in the back of the van.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is the start of the third week and I am cooked. Sunday night's community dinner nearly put me in bed for two days straight. But tonight, while being trained for a new retail position in the Market - something amazing happened. I met someone who has passion, a grand vision, big dreams, who thinks positively and has a kind soul. And guess what? She owns the business. The more we talked, the more we realized that we're in each others lives for a reason. She needs good people and someone to help with web content. I need a paycheck and a place I believe in. The food here is amazing, no joke. Remember that post about &lt;a href="http://jentriplett.blogspot.com/2011/10/bottling-it-up.html"&gt;bottling it up?&lt;/a&gt; Little did I know that I'd be describing where I now work. And though we're in the beginning phases of discussing what I can do to help - I think there's potential for an awesome partnership to happen. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Life in the fast lane. A chance encounter with a boy that lead to love, a recovery ride leading to buying a home, now a random email may lead to a fulfilling and rewarding career. Holy cow. Be open to possibilities and chance encounters and take risks. You never know where they might lead.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9669164-2494556369324695170?l=jentriplett.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jentriplett.blogspot.com/feeds/2494556369324695170/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9669164&amp;postID=2494556369324695170' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9669164/posts/default/2494556369324695170'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9669164/posts/default/2494556369324695170'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jentriplett.blogspot.com/2012/01/never-dull-moment.html' title='Never a dull moment.'/><author><name>Jennifer Triplett</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/102478281216127385889</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//lh6.googleusercontent.com/-769wQl2SR3s/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAAAks/Bygkya7neNw/s512-c/photo.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9669164.post-566254710320712050</id><published>2012-01-31T13:07:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2012-01-31T13:08:02.436-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Don't quit your day job.</title><content type='html'>I think I liked being unemployed better. I mean really, I love being the master of my own schedule and the master of my own body. And right now I'm neither, or at least it feels that way.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On Sunday night I worked at my first catering gig. One hundred and fifty guests attended and only 5 wait staff. We hustled, we bustled, we didn't get to rest the entire shift. You show up and hit the ground running. Someone (me) had the brilliant idea of riding 3 hours hard with the boys beforehand - thinking I could handle it. Sure I pipped them during the sprints and even made it up with the second group on the big ass hill in the academy but that extra little umph had my legs screaming by nights end. I will never take for granted being able to lay down on my couch for hours on end after a three hour ride. Running around like a chicken with its head cut off left me sore, hungover, and feeling like a train hit me, backed up and then then hit me again.&amp;nbsp; Ouchie!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And there's nothing like getting the promise of that first paycheck, in its clean, white envelope with my name printed on the front confirming employment. They never discussed payment or wages - so your guess was as good as mine what that dollar figure was going to be. Ready for the shocker? $9 an hour. Last time I checked I had a college education and management level experience. But I took this job for its flexibility, to allow me to train and be able to leave town at will. And this is Colorado Springs. So sacrifices must be made. The belt can tighten this time of year anyway. And some income coming in is better than nothing, right?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Time to buy some lotto tickets.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9669164-566254710320712050?l=jentriplett.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jentriplett.blogspot.com/feeds/566254710320712050/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9669164&amp;postID=566254710320712050' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9669164/posts/default/566254710320712050'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9669164/posts/default/566254710320712050'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jentriplett.blogspot.com/2012/01/dont-quit-your-day-job.html' title='Don&apos;t quit your day job.'/><author><name>Jennifer Triplett</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/102478281216127385889</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//lh6.googleusercontent.com/-769wQl2SR3s/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAAAks/Bygkya7neNw/s512-c/photo.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9669164.post-8070194999359913590</id><published>2012-01-23T17:29:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2012-01-23T17:29:09.448-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Mental fortitude</title><content type='html'>During the first hundred steps of the Incline, Makiah and Moonli bound by us. Happy to be outside and off leash, their smiles unmistakeable. We can talk at first, the effort nor the altitude taking its toll. Plus the first section is mellow, only a 35 degree pitch. The steeper sections are to come. We know it, the dogs know it, but that doesn't keep them from running ahead, sniffing scents and chasing chipmunks. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Two guys pass us, despite our steady unrelenting pace. We in turn pass a few people and as the pitch steepens, my inner demons surface.&amp;nbsp; Makiah is panting, the big steps for us giant leaps for her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That's when the discipline comes out: the grit, the determination to continue even with heavy breathing and throbbing legs. I visualize climbing in a hilly road race, feel the pain to keep pressure on the pedals, continue on despite my body telling my brain to stop. This time there are no power meters to distract me - nothing to impede my upward progression. Nothing to track forward movement, kilojoules burnt, numbers to examine and trends to plot. The only promise this hike has is a great view at the top. Oh, and the priceless practice of mental fortitude. &amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As a lifelong athlete, it's easy to take for granted a higher tolerance for pain. Training in zones where discomfort becomes the norm and extreme fatigue a steady companion, day in and day out. But at some point you adapt to that discomfort, it becomes easy just by repetitive visitation. In a way you plateau, getting used to pain. And it makes it hard to push beyond comfortable pain. But you must. This is what can separate you from winning or losing: who can withstand pain longer on a given day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm sure this sounds insane to some - why would you willingly put yourself in pain? For me, it's for the love of sport. The love of triumph, to overcome obstacles both physical and mental. To see what your body and mind can endure and survive. It is a satisfaction and journey that calls to me constantly. It's the feeling of being alive when I get to the top of the Incline, take a deep breath and soaking in the view. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And it's the promise of the Taste of Jerusalem Cafe's kick ass hummus in Manitou after hiking down the Barr trail....&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9669164-8070194999359913590?l=jentriplett.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jentriplett.blogspot.com/feeds/8070194999359913590/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9669164&amp;postID=8070194999359913590' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9669164/posts/default/8070194999359913590'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9669164/posts/default/8070194999359913590'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jentriplett.blogspot.com/2012/01/mental-fortitude.html' title='Mental fortitude'/><author><name>Jennifer Triplett</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/102478281216127385889</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//lh6.googleusercontent.com/-769wQl2SR3s/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAAAks/Bygkya7neNw/s512-c/photo.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9669164.post-7031057881038577763</id><published>2012-01-23T08:00:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2012-01-23T08:00:28.429-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Simple life.</title><content type='html'>Where did the week go? Or for that matter, where has January gone?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Time flies when you're busy. And when you're boyfriend returns home from travels afar. I love having him here and spend as much time together as possible, just being. He leaves in a week for another three week bout of world cups and training - Spain, London, Argentina... the life of Riley, no? All that to say, somethings get put off. Or rather, re-prioritized. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And let's be honest: I'm really good at letting distractions do their job of distracting. But even though it might be a week before I post something here, I constantly think about it. About things I observe, the funny encounters experienced, the questions it makes me ask, the things I can't quite put my finger on and the moments of extreme clarity. They're still happening, they're always happening. The world keeps spinning. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I also landed a job last week at Garden of the Gods Gourmet. It's a catering gig that has a flexible schedule and is probably the best job a full time training (and not sponsored) cyclist could have. Everyday I walk into work the aromas immediately make my mouth water. The chefs are passionate and you can smell it first, then taste it if you're lucky. The place buzzes every morning of people creating what they do best and I get to deliver it to happy customers.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm also walking dogs. Two Border Collies named Jake and Cooper. Jake's ten years old, and Cooper an eight month puppy.&amp;nbsp; Two jobs, two dogs at home, a house to keep, a book to write, training to complete, a man to love and Mario Kart Wii to play... my simple life just got a little less simple. Would I trade it? Not for anything. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I almost forgot! We're going to Melbourne in March!!!! Formula One kicks off the season there and I'm going to do some late summer crits around the city. All those far away destinations build up some serious air miles and so this one's on United.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9669164-7031057881038577763?l=jentriplett.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jentriplett.blogspot.com/feeds/7031057881038577763/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9669164&amp;postID=7031057881038577763' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9669164/posts/default/7031057881038577763'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9669164/posts/default/7031057881038577763'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jentriplett.blogspot.com/2012/01/simple-life.html' title='Simple life.'/><author><name>Jennifer Triplett</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/102478281216127385889</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//lh6.googleusercontent.com/-769wQl2SR3s/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAAAks/Bygkya7neNw/s512-c/photo.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9669164.post-1799055032097402803</id><published>2012-01-16T15:14:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2012-01-16T15:14:43.235-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The Escape Artists</title><content type='html'>I ducked into the locker room to grab my book for a post-weight spin at the gym and noticed my phone blinking. Shirley, my neighbor had left a message saying she just saw the humane society picking up a furry gray dog that might be Makiah, but she can't be sure.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Uh oh.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I thought I latched the gate but maybe Houdini got out of the yard. I figured I might as well complete my workout, if the little pooch is in the pound then at least I know she's safe. Besides, I only had 15 minutes left on the stationary bike.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I kept playing it over in my head, certain I had closed the gate. But with the wind out in full force today, it very well could be blown open. Nah, it must be some other poor dog.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nevertheless, as I raced home, I noticed a Humane Society truck parked a couple of blocks up the street. I pulled in the driveway, opened the back door, whistled and knew immediately something was wrong. But what's worse- Moonli escaped too. I grabbed their leashes and took off in a sprint down the block, hopeful the officer had my kids, I mean dogs.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He asked me to describe them and confirmed that yes, he's got them in the back. Someone saw them out and about and called on Moonli first. Apparently big black dogs get a lot of attention. He was found a 1/2 block down the street and Makiah in the driveway. The kicker though - it's going to cost me $95 to make bail. Had I not caught the officer before heading down to the slammer, it would have been double.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Moonli, the ever goofy dog, was happy to see me and not alarmed at all that he was in dog jail. Makiah on the other hand was panting and shaking like a leaf. Those little stinkers. I'm not sure but I think they were a little freaked out because I went into a cleaning frenzy this morning since Benjamin gets home tonight. Maybe they thought I had left them or something and they wanted to come with me? Regardless, they saw the gate open and figured they'd come looking for me. Instead I got to post bail.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9669164-1799055032097402803?l=jentriplett.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jentriplett.blogspot.com/feeds/1799055032097402803/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9669164&amp;postID=1799055032097402803' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9669164/posts/default/1799055032097402803'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9669164/posts/default/1799055032097402803'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jentriplett.blogspot.com/2012/01/escape-artists.html' title='The Escape Artists'/><author><name>Jennifer Triplett</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/102478281216127385889</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//lh6.googleusercontent.com/-769wQl2SR3s/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAAAks/Bygkya7neNw/s512-c/photo.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9669164.post-1133497306171145301</id><published>2012-01-14T16:16:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2012-01-14T16:16:30.082-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Winter Training</title><content type='html'>The road narrows and pitches up a few degrees. I downshift, spinning a faster cadence. The guys are 50 yards ahead, yet I'm neither gaining or losing ground. A light changes to red and I let out an audible sigh of relief. They can't shake me that easy. I feel like yelling, "hey guys, wait for me!" like a little sister would. But I don't want them to let up, I want to struggle. I want feel how hard I'll need to work to stay with the lead group, physically and mentally.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The light changes and they take off. I suck the wheel in front of me and we hit another kicker. I glance down - 400 watts. Shit, I shouldn't have glanced down. Why did I look? Knowing I can't sustain that power output, the rubber band snaps. It snaps so hard it recoils.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I look around and I'm alone. I glance down - 153 watts. Sweat drips down my check and my legs feel like they weigh 400 pounds a piece. I make a bargain with myself to make it a little further next week. I focus on the positives - positioning practice, setting up for the sprint, breathing through my nose when I can hear some people wheezing. Maybe I should tape my SRM next week so I don't see the wattage?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I could turn toward home at this point but don't. I continue up toward the zoo, unsure of my route and thankfully run into a fellow cyclist. He's on a bright green Jake the Snake cross bike, knobby tires and out for an afternoon spin while his wife watches the kids. He points me in the right direction. I try hanging onto his wheel, trying pushing through the pain radiating from my legs but I can't. I'm cooked. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He hollers, "You'll know you're there when you see the giraffe!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I keep climbing and pass mansion upon mansion. The road is quiet and I love this part of town, the Broadmoor area. It sits adjacent to Cheyenne Mountain: with jutting rocks, tall pines and clean, crisp air. If it weren't for the leg throb, I'd pinch myself again to see if this was real. A smile spreads across my face once I reach the summit and I head for home. I bid my time. I'm getting stronger every week. It's January, it's sunny and 56 degrees outside and tomorrow brings the promise of another kick ass group ride.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9669164-1133497306171145301?l=jentriplett.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jentriplett.blogspot.com/feeds/1133497306171145301/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9669164&amp;postID=1133497306171145301' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9669164/posts/default/1133497306171145301'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9669164/posts/default/1133497306171145301'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jentriplett.blogspot.com/2012/01/winter-training.html' title='Winter Training'/><author><name>Jennifer Triplett</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/102478281216127385889</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//lh6.googleusercontent.com/-769wQl2SR3s/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAAAks/Bygkya7neNw/s512-c/photo.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9669164.post-2420398491171645610</id><published>2012-01-12T07:28:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2012-01-12T07:28:33.794-08:00</updated><title type='text'>You didn't bargain for this one....</title><content type='html'>The more I share my story, the more I want to share my story. Why is it when you tell someone died, the majority of people lower their eyes, muttering, "I'm so sorry that happened to you."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Death. It happens to everyone. No one is immune. Every single person that you love is eventually going to die. So why is it such a taboo subject? Why do most people not want to talk about it or acknowledge it? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; During the first steps of grief I sought comfort through reading. I thought just maybe someone was bold enough to talk about the subject head on. That someone made sense of it all and I could relate to that and hold onto the notion that I too would make it through. But the more I read, the more I couldn't relate. Time slowly ticked by.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ryan didn't die from terminal illness. He didn't die of old age. He died living his passion. He died doing the thing he loved most. May we all be that lucky.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The closest I've come to finding something I can relate to is fiction. But I'm not making this story up. Ryan existed as did his love for rock climbing and above all, living life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So rather than having a bench made and placed in the soggy Northwest forest, which although is a nice gesture, is something that doesn't feel right, I'm going to tell you a story. His story, our story and the amazing life lessons I've encountered along the way. It's what keeps me writing a fuels the fire in my belly to strong to ignore. We can all be the master of our destiny and choose the life we want to live.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9669164-2420398491171645610?l=jentriplett.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jentriplett.blogspot.com/feeds/2420398491171645610/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9669164&amp;postID=2420398491171645610' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9669164/posts/default/2420398491171645610'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9669164/posts/default/2420398491171645610'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jentriplett.blogspot.com/2012/01/you-didnt-bargain-for-this-one.html' title='You didn&apos;t bargain for this one....'/><author><name>Jennifer Triplett</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/102478281216127385889</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//lh6.googleusercontent.com/-769wQl2SR3s/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAAAks/Bygkya7neNw/s512-c/photo.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9669164.post-5775966955389065939</id><published>2012-01-09T02:13:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2012-01-09T02:13:37.319-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Things that go bump in the night.</title><content type='html'>Something woke me up in the middle of the night. I'm not sure if it was a grumbling tummy, Moonli having digestive issues or strange noises in the house. It could also be that I stirred up some emotions earlier tonight that haven't surfaced in a while, leaving me gasping a little bit for air.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It is challenging telling new people your story. Moving to a new town guarantees that you'll get to tell your story, a lot. You want them to know you, to know your truth and why you think you're here and now. And I feel comfortable telling most people on the surface my history, the cards I was dealt and the amazing life I choose to live now. But every now and then things get a little deeper, the scab gets peeled back a little bit, exposing vulnerability. Exposing the grief that normally lies dormant but is always there.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So rather than lay awake, willing myself to fall asleep, ignoring how I process things even if it's in the middle of the night - I grabbed a piece of bread to quiet my tummy and grabbed my laptop. I cried, I listened to Alexi Murdoch and whistled for Makiah to come upstairs. She's falling more and more in love with Moonli. She used to always sleep in the bedroom with me. But since King Tut got a new plush dog bed, he spends his time downstairs, and she practically curls up with him. I can't blame her. But tonight I needed her close so I could hear her familiar sounds. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Ab1zQA8hjU8/Twq9rTIjPuI/AAAAAAAAAlI/M5QnBRhbP_Q/s1600/moonli.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="180" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Ab1zQA8hjU8/Twq9rTIjPuI/AAAAAAAAAlI/M5QnBRhbP_Q/s320/moonli.jpg" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;Sigh.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9669164-5775966955389065939?l=jentriplett.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jentriplett.blogspot.com/feeds/5775966955389065939/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9669164&amp;postID=5775966955389065939' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9669164/posts/default/5775966955389065939'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9669164/posts/default/5775966955389065939'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jentriplett.blogspot.com/2012/01/things-that-go-bump-in-night.html' title='Things that go bump in the night.'/><author><name>Jennifer Triplett</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/102478281216127385889</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//lh6.googleusercontent.com/-769wQl2SR3s/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAAAks/Bygkya7neNw/s512-c/photo.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Ab1zQA8hjU8/Twq9rTIjPuI/AAAAAAAAAlI/M5QnBRhbP_Q/s72-c/moonli.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9669164.post-993181966866875497</id><published>2012-01-04T16:42:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2012-01-04T16:42:11.391-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Go get it.</title><content type='html'>My old neighbor Shawn from Seattle came and visited me today. His brother had kid-let numero uno up in Fort Collins so he took the day today to head down to Colorado Springs to visit. Not one to sit idle, especially on such a warm Colorado winter day, I dragged him up the Incline. It gains 2,000 feet in a mile. It’s a stair master on a mountain.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Shawn warned me he was out of shape and that since he started working on wind turbines he’s had little cardio. That and he’s picked up smoking again. And been doing his fair share of drinking. No matter though, as I was determined to get his butt up in the mountains and help him realize that there are amazing places to live in this world that promote better health. That being in Seattle though comfortable, is actually sucking the soul out of him. Those grey sky’s suck the very life out of you and from being here in the winter, being infinitely happy with a big old dose of sunshine every day, I’m happy to say that I made the move.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was good to see him. Even if he couldn’t talk for more than half the hike. He was winded and we took our time by stopping every now and then. Makiah even made the trek and we thought she was going to be his handicap. Turns out she is in better shape than most at 108 years old! Although her low clearance proved to me once again that I must shave her come summer. And I’m thankful to have moved out of the mountains in Manitou and more into the city, or at least further away from the red dirt.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It’s been five months since I first moved here and we talked about some of the goals we had both set for ourselves back then. Public speaking, writing, getting into the media aspect of communications, becoming a life coach. All things that I still think about and know would be kick ass if I pursued them. It also helped me realize that I do have a big impact on those around me. That some of my notions and ideas are not just blowing smoke up people’s asses. I’m actively pursuing them and making the life I dream of. I’m taking action and doing the thing that I say I’m going to do. That I’m not waiting for life to pass me by but rather grabbing life by the horns and hanging on for the ride of my life. You should try it sometime. Amazing things happen when you do.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Following your heart and being true to yourself takes guts. It takes passion. It takes trust and it takes determination. Not to mention patience, perseverance, and focus. It takes resolve, discipline and sheer grit at times. It takes looking something comfortable in the eye and telling yourself that you’re not happy settling. That you want something better. That you know it’s out there and you’re not going to give up until you get it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Funny how this timing coincides now with the everyone’s annual list of new years resolutions. For me, resolutions never go away. They are there throughout the entire year. But they are different then most. They have nothing to do with changing myself, not to lose weight, eating healthy, becoming a vegan or try a new thing. No, they are way more complicated then that. My resolutions are to continue following my heart, being patient, and trusting myself. Something that must be there every day. Something that is there every day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The mind is a powerful thing. Challenge yourself and set goals. Dream big and write them down. Take steps to strive towards them. Don’t give up. Go get it. It’s yours for the taking.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;PS My book due date is coming FAST!!!! Nothing like a deadline to whip me into shape. Mario Kart Wii must wait…&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;PPS MAD props to Kari Studley for winning a National title at cross nationals! You GO GIRL!!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9669164-993181966866875497?l=jentriplett.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jentriplett.blogspot.com/feeds/993181966866875497/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9669164&amp;postID=993181966866875497' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9669164/posts/default/993181966866875497'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9669164/posts/default/993181966866875497'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jentriplett.blogspot.com/2012/01/go-get-it.html' title='Go get it.'/><author><name>Jennifer Triplett</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/102478281216127385889</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//lh6.googleusercontent.com/-769wQl2SR3s/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAAAks/Bygkya7neNw/s512-c/photo.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9669164.post-3318873032557560923</id><published>2012-01-03T20:40:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2012-01-03T20:40:51.265-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Passed out on the couch, again.</title><content type='html'>It's 9:30 and I feel like I've been up way too long. I'm starting to realize that I fall asleep at 8:30 every night. So what if it is in front of the TV, spooned up and sawing logs while Lost is playing on the Tivo? I guess I need the sleep. Especially with the bulk of winter training in full swing. It's all about the recovery - and that's best done laying horizontally.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The tsunami of boxes is on its way out. Only a few more to empty and we can say we're officially moved in. This house is amazing. The dogs love it. Makiah proved you can teach an old dog new tricks as she, for the first time in her life, now uses a dog door. No more whining to be let out. Now if I could just figure out how she could feed herself......&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Happy New Year by the way!&amp;nbsp;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9669164-3318873032557560923?l=jentriplett.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jentriplett.blogspot.com/feeds/3318873032557560923/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9669164&amp;postID=3318873032557560923' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9669164/posts/default/3318873032557560923'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9669164/posts/default/3318873032557560923'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jentriplett.blogspot.com/2012/01/passed-out-on-couch-again.html' title='Passed out on the couch, again.'/><author><name>Jennifer Triplett</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/102478281216127385889</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//lh6.googleusercontent.com/-769wQl2SR3s/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAAAks/Bygkya7neNw/s512-c/photo.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9669164.post-3895024485723850992</id><published>2011-12-29T17:43:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2011-12-30T07:13:08.632-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The throb routine.</title><content type='html'>The throb is back. That steady, dull leg ache that remains throughout the day and into the night. Once I lay down to go to bed, they really start barking at me and it puts a smile on my face. Why a smile instead of a grimace? Because I know that the throb means I did my work for the day. I battled the inner demons, put on the spandex and got out for a ride.&amp;nbsp; Three and a half hours later, lunch and then into the gym for some lifting and dinner - and I was out cold by 8:30. I tried to watch Lost, I really tried. But my eyes were just too heavy and the couch was just too comfy...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Admittedly, it is hard to get back out there. It's hard to get back into the routine of riding when it's cold and windy. It's hard to get back in the swing of things after moving, the holidays, the steady interruptions. And it's hard to get back after such a relaxing Christmas. Benjamin and I headed up to Beaver Creek and although they only have a 18" snow base, we skied as many turns as possible in a short amount of time. We also spent a lot of time on the couch playing Mario Kart Wii. Somebody was a good girl this Christmas and got a video game or two. Yes, we are big kids.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was almost 60 degrees outside today. Perfect riding weather. Except the mountain bike trails were filled with snow slog slush. The kind that requires big power output, determination, balance and down right grit. Sometimes I'd bog down, make a bbbbbbaaaaaaapppppp, bbbbbaaaaaapppppp, bbbbbbbbbbaaaaaaaaaapppppppp noise and power through. Other times I'd dab the foot down in 8" of snow that left my feet cold and wet by the end of the ride. Was it worth it? Absolutely. For the throb is back, again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Time to fall asleep to another episode of Lost...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9669164-3895024485723850992?l=jentriplett.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jentriplett.blogspot.com/feeds/3895024485723850992/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9669164&amp;postID=3895024485723850992' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9669164/posts/default/3895024485723850992'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9669164/posts/default/3895024485723850992'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jentriplett.blogspot.com/2011/12/throb-routine.html' title='The throb routine.'/><author><name>Jennifer Triplett</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/102478281216127385889</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//lh6.googleusercontent.com/-769wQl2SR3s/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAAAks/Bygkya7neNw/s512-c/photo.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9669164.post-7973339710852972684</id><published>2011-12-22T14:56:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2011-12-22T14:56:54.294-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Pikes Peak</title><content type='html'>It's been snowing off and on all day today, a perfect way to bring in the winter solstice. I love how the snow blankets everything in a quiet stillness. As we start to get to know this house, its 106 years of character and charm, we notice how quiet it is. There's no freeway noise from highway 24, like on Lovers Lane. It stands strong and sturdy, not built on stilts like the old house. No rascals breaking an entry into the pantry (yet!). It is so incredibly warm - so inviting. We even caught Moonli howling in his sleep last night while eating dinner. And Makiah is using the dog door! Just goes to show you can teach an old dog new tricks.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm sitting in my new periwinkle office with boxes everywhere and a faint smell of baby diapers. The previous owners bought this house 10 years ago and completely rennovated it and remodeled the kitchen. Then they had 4 children. The dragonflies on the walls means those little ones slept in this room - and it's no wonder the room has such good energy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On a clear day and in the winter, you can see the surrounding mountains when you look out the window to the South. Yep, it's still snowing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Our new kitchen is nothing short of amazing. The only hick up is that my big plates won't fit in the dishwasher. That's it though! It is a dream. Last night we toasted our first meal and know this home will bring years and years of happiness.&amp;nbsp; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have so much to be thankful for right now. This is a winter solstice I will never forget. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9669164-7973339710852972684?l=jentriplett.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jentriplett.blogspot.com/feeds/7973339710852972684/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9669164&amp;postID=7973339710852972684' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9669164/posts/default/7973339710852972684'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9669164/posts/default/7973339710852972684'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jentriplett.blogspot.com/2011/12/pikes-peak.html' title='Pikes Peak'/><author><name>Jennifer Triplett</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/102478281216127385889</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//lh6.googleusercontent.com/-769wQl2SR3s/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAAAks/Bygkya7neNw/s512-c/photo.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9669164.post-262420853759747906</id><published>2011-12-19T11:49:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-12-19T11:49:26.246-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Updates coming soon, I promise!</title><content type='html'>Just put the keys to the new house on my key chain this morning!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Benjamin and I start moving tomorrow and are super duper excited but also swamped, leaving zero time for blog updates. But they are coming, I promise! Along with photos.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you would have told me a year ago I'd be moving from Lovers Lane to Old Colorado City I would have thought you were insane. Yet it's really happening. Wow.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So much to celebrate! Winter solstice, 30 years of debt, amazing new neighborhood, a kitchen that puts my old one in Seattle to shame, 2012 just around the corner, a happy home - yeah, I'm pretty lucky.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9669164-262420853759747906?l=jentriplett.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jentriplett.blogspot.com/feeds/262420853759747906/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9669164&amp;postID=262420853759747906' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9669164/posts/default/262420853759747906'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9669164/posts/default/262420853759747906'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jentriplett.blogspot.com/2011/12/updates-coming-soon-i-promise.html' title='Updates coming soon, I promise!'/><author><name>Jennifer Triplett</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/102478281216127385889</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//lh6.googleusercontent.com/-769wQl2SR3s/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAAAks/Bygkya7neNw/s512-c/photo.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9669164.post-333046248229134246</id><published>2011-12-12T08:18:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-12-12T08:21:59.071-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Life is long.</title><content type='html'>Group rides rule.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As a true Seattle native, I never understood what the hype was all about. For the past seven years, my weekend group ride existence was composed entirely of team rides. We'd meet at said designated point donned with buddy fenders (to keep the rain spray at a minimum) and do the same routes week in, week out. Occasionally we might have a guest rider join us, but only after the group was first asked if so and so could join.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You'd pass other team rides out on the road, all in matching kits. Not once do I recall a giant group of people with various kits riding together, especially around the south end of Lake Washington. Oh wait, yes I do! The Seattle to Portland ride and the Chilly Hilly. Apparently cross contaminating kits may result in labeling riders as clubers, not racers. And there will be none of that. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The only ride close to a group ride that goes on in the rest of the country is David Richter's Rocket ride. But even still, if the weather is that crappy out the ride is canceled and the battle of who can hang on the longest resumes the next weekend. And seeing someone show up to the Rocket Ride in a non-recognizable team kit means only one thing: stir clear of the Fred. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had to move half way across the country to really understand why group rides rule.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Don't get me wrong, I love riding with teammates. But we know each others strengths and weaknesses a little too well. You can't exactly apply team tactics to your own team. You can't test your strengths against other competitors and judge fitness levels. Sure you bond with your teammates and I absolutely believe in team rides but group rides are different. They are open to everyone. They add a couple layers of mystery to the ride. Similar to racing, you need to be able to figure out on a whim who is riding strong right now, whose wheel to be on, who is a dark horse that will pull you up to the break.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Group rides provide not only a killer workout sprinting for the top of hills, street signs and other random macho marks through out the ride, but you also gain a sense of camaraderie of belonging to a pack. You latch onto a group of people who like you are out to get a good workout equipped with spandex, power bars, sheer grit and two wheels. The fact that you go beyond your normal comfort zone and into the red multiple times is without a doubt. You suffer, you breath hard, you occasionally win a sprint, you go cross eyed. And yes, often times the pros come out to play. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here in the Springs there are two options for group rides, one on Saturday and one on Sunday. They both leave at 10am from the Starbucks on the corner of Tejon and Bijou and are open to anyone who shows up. The difference between the two rides is simple: flat vs. hilly. Saturday's ride goes into Kansas. (You know - the Kansas that runs directly east of the front range?) The relatively flat, slightly rolling terrain and wind provide their own set of challenges. Sunday's ride does a loop through the Air Force Academy and then through the west hills of the front range.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This week was my first time making the Sunday ride and it provided everything I needed: lung bleeding, foaming mouth, determination check, sprint points, etc. Except today I got an extra bonus: I received affirmation that what I'm doing is right on. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On the return trip from the Academy, I rode next to Todd. Unassuming as Todd was in his black tights, wind jacket, steel frame and larger than average cyclist body type, his handling was pretty remarkable. I could tell he had been riding a while. Turns out he was a racer in the 70's and 80's. He followed his heart which was set on riding in the outdoors, not with his nose stuck in law books at Stanford. He quit law school to race his bike. I liked him immediately.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Life is too short!" &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"On the contrary, at 22 I thought quite the opposite. Life is too long! I want to be doing something I love because I have a really long life to live. Call me a forever optimist but that's the world as I see it."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Todd had a great perspective. It was refreshing and inspiring. And it proved to me two things: one, group rides rule. And two, life is long. If you're not following your heart and doing the things you enjoy then it's time to start. Quit your law school and race a bike. Follow your dreams and push your limits. And make sure what ever it is that you're doing puts a big fat grin on your face and make those smile lines permanent. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9669164-333046248229134246?l=jentriplett.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jentriplett.blogspot.com/feeds/333046248229134246/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9669164&amp;postID=333046248229134246' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9669164/posts/default/333046248229134246'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9669164/posts/default/333046248229134246'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jentriplett.blogspot.com/2011/12/life-is-long.html' title='Life is long.'/><author><name>Jennifer Triplett</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/102478281216127385889</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//lh6.googleusercontent.com/-769wQl2SR3s/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAAAks/Bygkya7neNw/s512-c/photo.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9669164.post-8734164946672613644</id><published>2011-12-08T15:45:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2011-12-08T16:08:38.889-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Sometimes feeling blue is okay.</title><content type='html'>Today was a cold, blue day. I didn't wake up that way, in fact, far from it. But as I got out on my mountain bike and soared through the cold, crisp air, I could feel the blues arriving. Trying to prevent them from settling on my consciousness, I rode and rode. Up and up I went, through cold canyons and icy deserted trails. Slipping here and there in deep sand, breathing heavy and trying to ride away from them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But the harder I rode, the deeper the blues sank. Every song I listened to ushered in memories.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Some days it's best to let those feelings fly. It's best to let them come in waves. It's best not to deny them and just to acknowledge them, to feel them. To let them come and then go. And if they decide to stay for a little while, invite them in, find out what they want and then ask them to leave.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I came across this old post from another online journal and thought I'd share it. It definitely goes along with the blues....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;I will say that after some time has passed, and several moons have circumnavigated the earth, you start to forget that you are swimming. Or at least you start to take treading water for granted.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;i&gt;The frequency of the sobbing subsides, your emotions become more even and steady and time starts to heal your open wound a little bit more.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;i&gt;And just when you think, hey, I’ve got the hang of this – something will whisk you back. I know that drudging up my journals, going back through them and putting those feelings up is a sure fire way to wade through that sorrow again. But I’m also doing it as a way to accept they happened. That I’m recognizing the strength I’ve gained from going through them and that rather then ignoring them or filing them away, I’m putting them out there to chalk up to experience.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;i&gt;Sometimes feeling blue is okay.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9669164-8734164946672613644?l=jentriplett.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jentriplett.blogspot.com/feeds/8734164946672613644/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9669164&amp;postID=8734164946672613644' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9669164/posts/default/8734164946672613644'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9669164/posts/default/8734164946672613644'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jentriplett.blogspot.com/2011/12/sometimes-feeling-blue-is-okay.html' title='Sometimes feeling blue is okay.'/><author><name>Jennifer Triplett</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/102478281216127385889</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//lh6.googleusercontent.com/-769wQl2SR3s/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAAAks/Bygkya7neNw/s512-c/photo.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9669164.post-3234458521871556456</id><published>2011-12-04T21:13:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2011-12-04T21:24:46.384-08:00</updated><title type='text'>All is right in the world.</title><content type='html'>Today was incredible. I mean seriously. I got 8 hours of solid sleep last night. I woke up for an hour, read my book and then fell asleep for another 2 hours. Then I got to go mountain biking instead of riding the trainer for three hours. Shawnee and Joey were game to join me despite the 20 degree high forecast. We avoided any snow showers or crazy blowing wind and I got home just before the snow did hit.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then I went back to their house for some chicken, lime and tortilla soup followed by tree decorating with their two year old, Eve. And I am happy to report I am in Eve's inner circle. How do I know? She called for me from the toilet to help her. I am so in.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wait, wait. It gets better! (How can it possibly, right?)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I stopped by King Soopers on the way home to buy some mint M&amp;amp;M's only to discover Cadbury has a Christmas version of their Easter milk chocolate mini-eggs. Do you know what this means? I don't have to wait till Easter to eat my favorite candy in the whole wide world!!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I scored a 111 point word on Words with Friends! Somebody stop me!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My friend Laura sent me a picture of my old VW bus, Maggie decorated for the holidays. I heart Maggie.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;AND THEN! I read a post on Facebook tonight that my friends Ben and Danielle were reunited with their dog Pepe, who has been missing since July! Truly a miracle. Check out my profile page for the remarkable full story in Danielle's words.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And the real topper? The icing on the cake?!?! The cherry topper on my ice cream sundae?!?!?!?!? Benjamin gets home tonight after being gone for three weeks!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just hope I'm not all cracked out on chocolate mini-eggs when his flight gets in. ;)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9669164-3234458521871556456?l=jentriplett.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jentriplett.blogspot.com/feeds/3234458521871556456/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9669164&amp;postID=3234458521871556456' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9669164/posts/default/3234458521871556456'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9669164/posts/default/3234458521871556456'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jentriplett.blogspot.com/2011/12/all-is-right-in-world.html' title='All is right in the world.'/><author><name>Jennifer Triplett</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/102478281216127385889</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//lh6.googleusercontent.com/-769wQl2SR3s/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAAAks/Bygkya7neNw/s512-c/photo.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9669164.post-3446683465490621332</id><published>2011-12-03T06:40:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2011-12-03T06:45:37.227-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Snow cooler anyone?</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-6WyfpL0bRxs/Tto1C4tT8jI/AAAAAAAAAbE/rIJIvrjNChA/s1600/beercooler.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="232" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-6WyfpL0bRxs/Tto1C4tT8jI/AAAAAAAAAbE/rIJIvrjNChA/s320/beercooler.jpg" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's snowing!!! And not just a little, a lot! I was trying to think of what people do with snow if they don't ski and came across this photo.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ingenious. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9669164-3446683465490621332?l=jentriplett.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jentriplett.blogspot.com/feeds/3446683465490621332/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9669164&amp;postID=3446683465490621332' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9669164/posts/default/3446683465490621332'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9669164/posts/default/3446683465490621332'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jentriplett.blogspot.com/2011/12/snow-cooler-anyone.html' title='Snow cooler anyone?'/><author><name>Jennifer Triplett</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/102478281216127385889</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//lh6.googleusercontent.com/-769wQl2SR3s/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAAAks/Bygkya7neNw/s512-c/photo.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-6WyfpL0bRxs/Tto1C4tT8jI/AAAAAAAAAbE/rIJIvrjNChA/s72-c/beercooler.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9669164.post-6050658786470968036</id><published>2011-12-02T16:39:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2011-12-05T15:51:21.871-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The Art of Happiness</title><content type='html'>1. Live your passion. 2. Dare to dream. 3. Write your dreams down and post them somewhere you can see it everyday. 4. Tell your dreams to a friend. 5. Surround yourself with positive people. 6. Get outside. 7. Listen to what others have to say. 8. Send letters to your grandparents. 9. Tell your parents you love them. 10. Eat whole foods. 11. Climb a mountain. 12. Ski downhill. 13. Challenge yourself by trying something new. 14. Go somewhere new on vacation. 15. Watch Muppet movies. 16. Have potlucks with friends. 17. Ride bikes. 18. Laugh often, especially at yourself. 19. Do something adventurous every week. 20. Bake cookies. 21. Play ping pong. 22. Read books. 23. Cook! 24. Play with dogs. 25. Be creative. 26. Be scientific. 27. Drink water. 28. Sleep well. 29. Go see plays. 30. Eat desert first. 31. Brush your teeth. 32. Go skinny dipping. 33. Giggle. 34. Get into flow. 35. Forgive quickly and often. 36. Become an expert. 37. Go to Hawaii and stick your toes in the sand and swim in the Pacific Ocean. 38. Love fearlessly. 39. Send friends birthday cards. 40.&amp;nbsp; Be kind. 41. Open doors for others. 42. Smile. 43. Let those in your life know how much you love them. 44. Suck on chocolate. 45. Listen to jazz. 46. Share your story. 47. Exercise frequently. 48. Live life to the fullest. 49. Be optimistic. 50. Express gratitude. 51. Smile at strangers. 52. Ride your bike! 53. Listen to music and sing out loud. 54. Walk or run or ride in the rain. 55. Give and share. 56. read JT's Blog! 57. Color "out side" of the lines or  doodle. 58. Just say  "doodle" repeatedly. 59.&lt;br /&gt;Watch birds. 60. Read a frivolous book under a tree with a drink that contains an umbrella. 61. Share your "signature dance"  move as frequently as possible.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What would you add?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9669164-6050658786470968036?l=jentriplett.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jentriplett.blogspot.com/feeds/6050658786470968036/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9669164&amp;postID=6050658786470968036' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9669164/posts/default/6050658786470968036'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9669164/posts/default/6050658786470968036'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jentriplett.blogspot.com/2011/12/art-of-happiness.html' title='The Art of Happiness'/><author><name>Jennifer Triplett</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/102478281216127385889</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//lh6.googleusercontent.com/-769wQl2SR3s/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAAAks/Bygkya7neNw/s512-c/photo.jpg'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9669164.post-6904947863920814057</id><published>2011-12-01T07:47:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2011-12-01T07:49:56.558-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Todays motivation courtesy of that white fluffy stuff falling from the sky.</title><content type='html'>It started slowly at first. A few flakes here, a few flakes there.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As they start to come down with regular frequency, I snuggled deeper into bed, pulling the blanket up to my chin. My hand would creep out from this warm cocoon to turn the page every 60 seconds or so.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Makiah heard me rustle, attempted to get me out of bed to feed her. This is our morning ritual. She starts pawing the side of the bed at 6am, like a child crying in the morning for comfort. Thankfully she’s a dog and sort of listens when I tell her to go lie down. I turn on my iPad and start reading – blog posts, random entries from strangers and friends, morning news. When I tire of short entries, I turn on my kindle and start turning pages. Every half hour Makiah gets up and scratches at the side of the bed, ever hopeful that I’ll get up right then and feed her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But not this morning. Like the snow, I’m starting slowly at first.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For with the snow comes riding the trainer. And today’s scheduled 3 hour can be put off until I’m good and ready. More like good and motivated. Trainer rides. A sure sign winter is here. A true test of dedication, determination and stamina. I used to be able to count on two hands the number of trainer rides I did in Seattle in the past 7 years. Regardless of how wet or cold it was outside, I’d always gear up. I’d always brave the inclement weather, always be the lone wolf out hunting watts and heart rate zones. Unless of course it was icy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Since I prefer keeping my fingers and toes, I happily opt to ride the trainer, despite its boring nature. Three hour endurance rides. Those are barely fun when you have to do them outside, let alone perched in one spot, strapped down to a torture device. But my affliction is slightly different this year – Benjamin set up a Tacx system for me. Similar to a CompuTrainer, it simulates real riding. I’ve already logged time on the Amstel Gold race course, San Sebastian and Milan-San Remo. And it makes 3 hours of endurance riding possible. Dare I say I’m starting to enjoy them?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The snow is starting to fall faster, whitening out views of Pikes Peak and Red Mountain. I make a mental note to make some butternut squash soup. Maybe I should go grab some boxes out of storage to start packing. Maybe I’ll have my biggest day of writing yet – nailing down three chapters in one day. How many chores can I do before I succumb to my inevitable three hour crucifixion?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And then I pull out a mantra from memory: A champion is made a day at a time.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9669164-6904947863920814057?l=jentriplett.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jentriplett.blogspot.com/feeds/6904947863920814057/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9669164&amp;postID=6904947863920814057' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9669164/posts/default/6904947863920814057'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9669164/posts/default/6904947863920814057'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jentriplett.blogspot.com/2011/12/todays-motivation-courtesy-of-that.html' title='Todays motivation courtesy of that white fluffy stuff falling from the sky.'/><author><name>Jennifer Triplett</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/102478281216127385889</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//lh6.googleusercontent.com/-769wQl2SR3s/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAAAks/Bygkya7neNw/s512-c/photo.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9669164.post-3840422254449075127</id><published>2011-12-01T05:41:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-12-01T05:41:44.759-08:00</updated><title type='text'>7 Foods So Unsafe Even Farmers Won't Eat Them - Planet Green</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://planetgreen.discovery.com/food-health/foods-unsafe-doctors-eat.html"&gt;7 Foods So Unsafe Even Farmers Won't Eat Them - Planet Green&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9669164-3840422254449075127?l=jentriplett.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jentriplett.blogspot.com/feeds/3840422254449075127/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9669164&amp;postID=3840422254449075127' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9669164/posts/default/3840422254449075127'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9669164/posts/default/3840422254449075127'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jentriplett.blogspot.com/2011/12/7-foods-so-unsafe-even-farmers-wont-eat.html' title='7 Foods So Unsafe Even Farmers Won&apos;t Eat Them - Planet Green'/><author><name>Jennifer Triplett</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/102478281216127385889</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//lh6.googleusercontent.com/-769wQl2SR3s/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAAAks/Bygkya7neNw/s512-c/photo.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9669164.post-1518287827586490517</id><published>2011-11-29T14:46:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2011-11-29T14:55:47.230-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Dare to dream.</title><content type='html'>As I age, my purpose on this planet becomes more and more clear. As I discover who I really am, what makes me happy, what I love to do, what I feel passionate about, what makes me tick - I start to realize those dreams I had as a little kid are coming true.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It can be hard to admit what those dreams are.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(Cue Monster music....) What if someone thinks they're silly? Who cares! What if I can't make them come true? Won't you always wonder if you don't at least try? Am I afraid of failure or success for that matter? Wouldn't you rather risk happiness then be stuck unhappy for the rest of your life? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size: xx-small;"&gt;I'm about to do something crazy.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm going to share with all of you my &lt;span style="font-size: large;"&gt;childhood dreams&lt;/span&gt;. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Drum roll, please........&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I dream of being a professional athlete.&lt;br /&gt;I dream of being a motivational speaker.&lt;br /&gt;I dream of being a writer.&lt;br /&gt;I dream of helping others admit their dreams and go for them with gusto.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There. I said it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you don't admit your dreams, if you don't take a risk and go for it - then you'll never know if they can become a reality. So, what are your dreams?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9669164-1518287827586490517?l=jentriplett.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jentriplett.blogspot.com/feeds/1518287827586490517/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9669164&amp;postID=1518287827586490517' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9669164/posts/default/1518287827586490517'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9669164/posts/default/1518287827586490517'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jentriplett.blogspot.com/2011/11/dare-to-dream.html' title='Dare to dream.'/><author><name>Jennifer Triplett</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/102478281216127385889</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//lh6.googleusercontent.com/-769wQl2SR3s/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAAAks/Bygkya7neNw/s512-c/photo.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9669164.post-5286584211496489429</id><published>2011-11-28T10:35:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2011-11-28T10:53:20.274-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Tsunami Flash Flood.</title><content type='html'>I couldn't walk down the street fast enough. Tears were coming, and they were building quickly. I didn't want to run into anyone, didn't want anyone to see me. I tried thinking of things that would make me immediately happy - riding, sunshine, Colorado.... anything to not feel the depths of grief coming at me in tsunami proportions.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But they still hit.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I haven't been in my old house in three months. Not since I packed up the uHaul and headed east. I thought I had said goodbye to my old attachments. Thought that the furniture I left in the house wouldn't weigh me down. Thought that having my sister live there with her things inside the house would make everything okay. Thought that dealing with Ryan's clothing in August and separating myself from constant daily reminders would make things easier. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But it didn't.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I walked right into this one. On a whim last night a friend mentioned she's building a massive climbing wall for her husband and children to enjoy. Thinking of the thousands of holds that fill my basement where Ryan poured hours of blood sweet and tears into his passion, I wanted someone else to use what he had left behind. She showed up this morning and as we took down two dozen jugs and wooden holds, my protective wall started coming down.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've dealt with a lot of shit since he passed. A lot of shit. But that doesn't mean that you're over dealing with stuff. It doesn't mean that feelings and emotions won't resurface. It doesn't mean that your immune to tears, immune to feeling loss. It is always there. It just visits with less frequency.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After she left, I couldn't get out of the house fast enough. I know I'll need to come back. I know I need to deal with what remnants I left behind. I know that if I really want to close that chapter in my life, then I'll need to get rid of as much as possible. And it's not going to be easy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sigh.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And to think, this morning as I was driving back to my mom's from the gym I felt so incredible. So happy that I did the right thing by moving. So excited about what's to come and the possibilities that lie before me. And I still am - I just got sucked into a flash flood of emotions.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9669164-5286584211496489429?l=jentriplett.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jentriplett.blogspot.com/feeds/5286584211496489429/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9669164&amp;postID=5286584211496489429' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9669164/posts/default/5286584211496489429'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9669164/posts/default/5286584211496489429'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jentriplett.blogspot.com/2011/11/tsunami-flash-flood.html' title='Tsunami Flash Flood.'/><author><name>Jennifer Triplett</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/102478281216127385889</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//lh6.googleusercontent.com/-769wQl2SR3s/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAAAks/Bygkya7neNw/s512-c/photo.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9669164.post-374093252023093819</id><published>2011-11-27T06:51:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2011-11-28T10:56:17.388-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Boo!</title><content type='html'>I spun down Gap Road,&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;heading south on wet pavement. The horses and cows &amp;nbsp;sometimes jump in fright as the sounds of my bike were carried down wind. I assume that not many cyclist roam these parts, or at least not lately. I play a game with each one, hoping I'd spook them and then regret that I had, pedaling toward the next innocent bystander. One time I scared a flock of 50 sheep and watched as they moved like the wind away from me. When I ran out of livestock, I started counting electrical poles. I neglected to bring music today and found my mind wandering.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Winter &amp;nbsp;is well on her way, despite some trees having most of their leaves still attached and just now starting to change colors. Oregon sure is green. And wet. It's been a while since I've brought a bike down to these parts and roaming the quiet country roads is the therapy I was hoping for.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Three plus hour rides whirl by and not a single route repeated and only a handful of trucks zooming by.I roll through the hills and bank right, heading toward the wide open and often windy Willamette valley. These were my stomping grounds as a kid. Except my road rides were from our house in south Eugene to the river and back. A far cry from the open country roads I play on today. The land is so fertile here. It is no wonder my brother calls it home, its natural beauty easy on the eyes and sweet on the soul.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I look down valley toward Eugene and see Spencer Butte, the biggest mountain we had around growing up. Its summit is probably 700 feet. I smile, knowing I require bigger mountains and now I have them. In fact, my new Spencer Butte has been super sized with Pikes Peak measuring in around 14,400 feet. I also realize this mountain fixation has been with me since I was a child.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today we head back up to Seattle, where i'll spend my last couple of days here hanging with friends and figuring out what loose ends to attack on another trip. My sister loves living in my old house and I am happy for her. But it's time for me to deal with things since I left in such haste, such a whirlwind of packing and sorting. It was so worth it. I love where I call home now and I love who I can call home with.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9669164-374093252023093819?l=jentriplett.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jentriplett.blogspot.com/feeds/374093252023093819/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9669164&amp;postID=374093252023093819' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9669164/posts/default/374093252023093819'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9669164/posts/default/374093252023093819'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jentriplett.blogspot.com/2011/11/boo.html' title='Boo!'/><author><name>Jennifer Triplett</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/102478281216127385889</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//lh6.googleusercontent.com/-769wQl2SR3s/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAAAks/Bygkya7neNw/s512-c/photo.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9669164.post-5211719166528142041</id><published>2011-11-23T20:49:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2011-11-28T10:57:20.389-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Family.</title><content type='html'>We walked into a spotless house. George and Jaimie had put everything away, vacuumed, and thought of every detail - not a small task with two kids and an army of toys. I have a hard time keeping my own house clean when it's just me so I can only imagine what it is like for them. Even with toys scattered about and things out of place, their house is so welcoming, so warm. I love it. I love them. Family.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My sister and I made the five hour car trek south early this morning from Seattle to Brownsville, Oregon. A stop here and there, three naps later and only one ten mile stretch of bumper to bumper traffic in the pouring rain saw us entering Linn County, the grass seed capital of the world.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; Oh, Brownsville. A town of 1,500, where the movie, "Stand By Me" was filmed and where the town mayor was once arrested for her husband growing pot, employing the local high school students to distribute and within 1/4 mile of school grounds. Dave Letterman caught wind of that story, aired it on national television and this sleepy little town added a little more to its claim to fame. My big brother was one of the arresting officers and has his own stories to share.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But normally it's so quiet here you can hear the crickets chirp and count a sky full of billions of stars.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tonight I sleep in Coleman's room, with a ceiling decorated with model airplanes and gadgets and gizmos covering the floor. He's nine now and growing so fast, as kids always do. We giggle and laugh as I tell him stories about bears and raccoons in Colorado and his eyes widen and a smirk spreads from check to check when I tell him my only weapon to fight them off is a plunger.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Oh, Jenny!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's good to be here. There's so much to be thankful for. I'm savoring each moment, each story shared and getting soaked in the rain. I knew a month of no rain would eventually catch up...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9669164-5211719166528142041?l=jentriplett.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jentriplett.blogspot.com/feeds/5211719166528142041/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9669164&amp;postID=5211719166528142041' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9669164/posts/default/5211719166528142041'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9669164/posts/default/5211719166528142041'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jentriplett.blogspot.com/2011/11/family.html' title='Family.'/><author><name>Jennifer Triplett</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/102478281216127385889</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//lh6.googleusercontent.com/-769wQl2SR3s/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAAAks/Bygkya7neNw/s512-c/photo.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9669164.post-4330383558317270117</id><published>2011-11-20T07:30:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2011-11-20T07:43:54.823-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Bona fide bad ass.</title><content type='html'>I reconnected with a friend from another lifetime last night. A world filled with jabs and upper cuts, of pink gloves and sparring matches. Fancy footwork, jumping rope, and exhaling with each punch. Two minute rounds and broken noses. Titles, national championships, world's.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was so good to see her. We talked non-stop for three hours. Ten years of catching up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh boxing, my first serious athlete pursuit. I miss parts of it, that goes without question. I don't miss the head trauma and injuries. But being that kind of all body fit definitely has its allure. And a lot of the mental fortitude crosses over into competitive cycling.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ten years.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My head is still spinning from all of the stories we shared. Of all the things we've experienced that shape us into the strong women we are today. She's still heavily involved in the boxing scene. In fact, getting female boxers into the 2012 Olympics is in large part due to her unrelenting efforts. Talk about a bad ass.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The night flew by.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She moved to the Springs at the end of August and I am stoked to have an old friend in the area. Someone who shares an old love and understands the boxing world. Think track cycling is a small niche? Try women's boxing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And yes, I'm grabbing my wraps and gloves when I come home this week for Thanksgiving....&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9669164-4330383558317270117?l=jentriplett.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jentriplett.blogspot.com/feeds/4330383558317270117/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9669164&amp;postID=4330383558317270117' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9669164/posts/default/4330383558317270117'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9669164/posts/default/4330383558317270117'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jentriplett.blogspot.com/2011/11/bona-fide-bad-ass.html' title='Bona fide bad ass.'/><author><name>Jennifer Triplett</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/102478281216127385889</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//lh6.googleusercontent.com/-769wQl2SR3s/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAAAks/Bygkya7neNw/s512-c/photo.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9669164.post-4648682749490374192</id><published>2011-11-17T15:07:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2011-11-17T15:24:51.843-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Monsters</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Xq1SwdxuYOQ/TsWXbqMrKmI/AAAAAAAAAUY/L8GO8T3Y_eE/s1600/Monster-1.72dpi.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Xq1SwdxuYOQ/TsWXbqMrKmI/AAAAAAAAAUY/L8GO8T3Y_eE/s320/Monster-1.72dpi.jpg" width="250" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;They lie hidden beneath the bed.&lt;br /&gt;They lurk behind a closed cabinet, waiting.&lt;br /&gt;They spring up on you when you least expect it and grab hold so tight it feels like they may never release their grip.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We all have them. The little monsters of self doubt. The demons of self destruction. The wizards that freeze you to inaction.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why do they hold such power over us?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And why is it the closer you get to a goal, especially big ones, the monsters rear up louder than before? Testing your strength and will to accomplish what you set out to do. Do you listen to them? Do you heed what they say? Or do you take what they say and make it work for you? Do you go somewhere that summons more strength so you can stare those monsters straight in the eye and let them know they hold no power over you?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My personal monsters flared up the other day. The one's that insist I get a serious job. That insist I stop doing what I love and am passionate about all in the name of conventional "happiness." And in the moment when those voices are loudest, they're hard to ignore. But after the simple passage of time, they die down. I regain my strength. I visit powerful places in my head and exorcise what ever may be left.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am doing what I love. I am living in this moment and I am happy deep down in my bones.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What are your monsters? And how do you fight them?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9669164-4648682749490374192?l=jentriplett.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jentriplett.blogspot.com/feeds/4648682749490374192/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9669164&amp;postID=4648682749490374192' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9669164/posts/default/4648682749490374192'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9669164/posts/default/4648682749490374192'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jentriplett.blogspot.com/2011/11/monsters.html' title='Monsters'/><author><name>Jennifer Triplett</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/102478281216127385889</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//lh6.googleusercontent.com/-769wQl2SR3s/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAAAks/Bygkya7neNw/s512-c/photo.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Xq1SwdxuYOQ/TsWXbqMrKmI/AAAAAAAAAUY/L8GO8T3Y_eE/s72-c/Monster-1.72dpi.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9669164.post-6133955972282936577</id><published>2011-11-17T06:24:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2011-11-17T07:00:14.663-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Differences</title><content type='html'>I don't mean to rub this in but it hasn't rained here in over a month. Unless you count the snow. Each morning I wake up to brilliant blue skies and a UV level no lower than 3. Yep, that big old dose of Vitamin D does make a difference. Usually I'm singing the blues this time of year - praying for an escape to sunnier locales. Not the case this year.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Granted it is COLD in the mornings. Last night temps dipped to 11 degrees. Moonli crawled between the sheets and refused to get out. It was like waking a dinosaur. He was so sound asleep, snoring up a storm and I couldn't stand it any more. The puppy is LOUD! This morning he gave me a look of "why'd you kick me out? I thought we had something special?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The sheets went straight into the washing machine. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Makiah is stoked on her long fur coat. It's stained with red rock but she's warm and happy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've been going to 24 Hour Fitness twice a week for several weeks now. And every time I'm in there, no matter what time - it is packed. This is one fit city! I got spoiled at Sound Mind and Body when I was one of twelve people in the entire facility. Now I'm one of 50-75. And surrounded by muscles upon muscles. It's inspiring.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't wear nearly as much dark clothing as I used to. When I throw on dark jeans, a black shirt and dark sweater I feel out of place. Bring on the color!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My cycling clothing has to be modified. Instead of being dialed for the wet and cold, now I need to dial in clothing for the seriously sub-Arctic temps experienced here on the front range. I can tell you this right now - riding outside after dark is not really an option. I prefer to keep my fingers and toes attached to my body. But I have a secret weapon.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But there are days, several of them, where the daytime temps reach the upper 50's. Combine that with sun and well you've got one happy girl.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9669164-6133955972282936577?l=jentriplett.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jentriplett.blogspot.com/feeds/6133955972282936577/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9669164&amp;postID=6133955972282936577' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9669164/posts/default/6133955972282936577'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9669164/posts/default/6133955972282936577'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jentriplett.blogspot.com/2011/11/differences.html' title='Differences'/><author><name>Jennifer Triplett</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/102478281216127385889</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//lh6.googleusercontent.com/-769wQl2SR3s/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAAAks/Bygkya7neNw/s512-c/photo.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9669164.post-1940473147451201426</id><published>2011-11-14T14:10:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2011-11-14T14:24:38.227-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Musings</title><content type='html'>Teenagers occupy the couches next to me while two women chat it up in the window booth at Marika's coffee house in Manitou. Pearl Jam plays over the stereo and if it were raining outside, I'd swear I was in Seattle. Except I'm not. The air is brisk and smells of wood burning stoves. The wind cuts through my wool layers and I've been stoking the pellet stove every night for the past two weeks.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I picked this seat so I could observe what's going on around me- to soak in the happenings of this little community. I should have gone with the caffeinated version of my drink as I can barely keep up with the whirl of conversations going on around me. It's giving me energy though and for that I'm thankful.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The sun set over the mountains as I walked here - it's 3:15 and already starting to get dark. Being at the base of a fourteener provides multiple reminders a day of who's boss. Yet I couldn't shake this undeniable feeling - the pinch me, I must be dreaming feeling. I've written about living in Colorado for ten years and to have it become a reality still seems like a fantasy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now, if I can just figure out some sort of work situation, I think I'll be in business.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9669164-1940473147451201426?l=jentriplett.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jentriplett.blogspot.com/feeds/1940473147451201426/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9669164&amp;postID=1940473147451201426' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9669164/posts/default/1940473147451201426'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9669164/posts/default/1940473147451201426'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jentriplett.blogspot.com/2011/11/musings.html' title='Musings'/><author><name>Jennifer Triplett</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/102478281216127385889</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//lh6.googleusercontent.com/-769wQl2SR3s/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAAAks/Bygkya7neNw/s512-c/photo.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9669164.post-1658779131691198530</id><published>2011-11-13T13:47:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2011-11-13T14:05:24.107-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Jiggidy jo jammin- JIVES!</title><content type='html'>I promised myself that I'd get out in the community more - and Jives is the perfect spot to start. It's located in the new neighborhood we'll be moving to next month and right across the street from the library. They have an open mic night every Wednesday and as soon as I polish one of my short stories, I might find enough courage to tell it in front of an audience.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Big, comfy winged back chairs, the kind you'd find in a study, the Carpenters playing over the stereo, soon to be new neighbors going about their lives. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wait, hold the phone, you're moving next month?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yep, you heard that right. Less than a week ago I was on an innocent recovery ride, cruising through Garden of the Gods, down Pikes Peak and saw it - a perfect house for sale. Tons of curb appeal, a fenced back yard, garage (let's be honest - read: bike corral)... it peaked my curiosity. I grabbed a flier, stuffed it in my jersey pocket and forgot about it for a couple of hours. Later that night I showed it to Benjamin.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"That's nice."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The following day I called the relator, scheduled a 11:15 appointment to see it. On a whim, Benjamin decided to join me. Things just fell into place. The interior matches the exterior. Built in 1904, the house retained a lot of its original character - crown moldings, hardwood floors, funky door knobs and thresholds. Except it's been completely updated. Gas stove, stainless steel appliances, granite counter tops, honey-comb tiled bathroom with Kohler fixtures, breakfast nook, lots of storage, more storage, a full basement.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We. Fell. In. Love.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Less than a hour later, I called the relator back and started to get mortgage broker numbers. Two hours later after a pre approval, we put an offer down on the house. Later that night the seller had another offer. Because of our timing, we were given priority and the following morning we found out the seller accepted it! And we've been over the moon ever since.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9669164-1658779131691198530?l=jentriplett.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jentriplett.blogspot.com/feeds/1658779131691198530/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9669164&amp;postID=1658779131691198530' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9669164/posts/default/1658779131691198530'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9669164/posts/default/1658779131691198530'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jentriplett.blogspot.com/2011/11/jiggidy-jo-jammin-jives.html' title='Jiggidy jo jammin- JIVES!'/><author><name>Jennifer Triplett</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/102478281216127385889</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//lh6.googleusercontent.com/-769wQl2SR3s/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAAAks/Bygkya7neNw/s512-c/photo.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9669164.post-2222552638419248608</id><published>2011-11-09T09:17:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-11-09T09:17:36.446-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Catch up</title><content type='html'>The book is coming along. I've been busy working on it for the past few weeks along with training and with the change of daylight savings it feels like the days are whizzing by. I suppose they always do, especially once Halloween has come and gone and the holidays on its tail.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The intro came to me today like a light bulb being illuminated. It is so powerful.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;More to come - life is whirling right now!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9669164-2222552638419248608?l=jentriplett.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jentriplett.blogspot.com/feeds/2222552638419248608/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9669164&amp;postID=2222552638419248608' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9669164/posts/default/2222552638419248608'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9669164/posts/default/2222552638419248608'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jentriplett.blogspot.com/2011/11/catch-up.html' title='Catch up'/><author><name>Jennifer Triplett</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/102478281216127385889</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//lh6.googleusercontent.com/-769wQl2SR3s/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAAAks/Bygkya7neNw/s512-c/photo.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9669164.post-8561073046873636812</id><published>2011-11-04T12:12:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2011-11-04T12:16:32.631-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Back in the swing</title><content type='html'>Oh, October. I miss you already. Your non-commitment, your lack of discipline, your easy demeanor. But it's November now and it's time to regularly move my body and get it ready for a long season ahead. Hello prescribed workouts!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Suddenly my laundry and appetite has doubled. My free time is spent recovering. My meals are planned around my workouts and I am back into the swing of hydration and walking as little as possible.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It feels good to be back on the straight and aero. I mean narrow.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9669164-8561073046873636812?l=jentriplett.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jentriplett.blogspot.com/feeds/8561073046873636812/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9669164&amp;postID=8561073046873636812' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9669164/posts/default/8561073046873636812'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9669164/posts/default/8561073046873636812'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jentriplett.blogspot.com/2011/11/back-in-swing.html' title='Back in the swing'/><author><name>Jennifer Triplett</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/102478281216127385889</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//lh6.googleusercontent.com/-769wQl2SR3s/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAAAks/Bygkya7neNw/s512-c/photo.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9669164.post-6563395831090970705</id><published>2011-11-03T07:15:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2011-11-03T07:16:44.484-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Left field.</title><content type='html'>I had a rough night last night.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It sneaked up on me without warning.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But in retrospect, I know why it came. Why it still makes me tear up this morning. Why it paralyzes me. Why I have puffy eyes that aren’t suitable in public.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When you miss someone so much and you don’t give it time and space it will force you to recognize it. Some turn to booze, some turn to drugs, some turn to self inflicted pain. Some just cry.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just cried.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It’s a new day today. And I’m summoning all my strength to find the beauty in it and not be sad.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9669164-6563395831090970705?l=jentriplett.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jentriplett.blogspot.com/feeds/6563395831090970705/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9669164&amp;postID=6563395831090970705' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9669164/posts/default/6563395831090970705'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9669164/posts/default/6563395831090970705'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jentriplett.blogspot.com/2011/11/left-field.html' title='Left field.'/><author><name>Jennifer Triplett</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/102478281216127385889</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//lh6.googleusercontent.com/-769wQl2SR3s/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAAAks/Bygkya7neNw/s512-c/photo.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9669164.post-3846823474036268412</id><published>2011-10-31T09:24:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-10-31T09:36:44.077-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Emma Crawford Coffin Race</title><content type='html'>&lt;table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-t0Y4hZtTYZ0/Tq67hKLyXWI/AAAAAAAAAPA/xKgHHttT1TE/s1600/11+-+3" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-t0Y4hZtTYZ0/Tq67hKLyXWI/AAAAAAAAAPA/xKgHHttT1TE/s320/11+-+3" width="180" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"&gt;The two pooches are still adjusting to one another.&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On Friday morning, I woke up to sunny blue skies (are you picking up on the recurring theme?) and a mission - to hike up Red Mountain. Why Red Mountain?&amp;nbsp; Legend has it Emma Crawford, a 19 year old in the 1890s, died of Tuberculosis was buried up at the top of the mountain. She had moved to Manitou Springs with her family as it was believed the clean mountain air and the natural water springs would cure her fatal disease. She survived a year in the mountains and met a railroad engineer who worked at Pikes Peak Cog Railroad. The two fell in love and were going to marry, except Emma passed away. Her dying wish was to be buried at the top of Red Mountain and her lover completed her request.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-a8eUy7zLoYw/Tq67gzfQy1I/AAAAAAAAAO4/sJW0AtrrgL0/s1600/11+-+2" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-a8eUy7zLoYw/Tq67gzfQy1I/AAAAAAAAAO4/sJW0AtrrgL0/s320/11+-+2" width="180" /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td style="text-align: center;"&gt;Her coffin was carried from town and hoisted up the steep trail and buried at the top of the mountain. Who knows her motivation, or her lovers for that matter, of why she would want to be buried up there since the top of red mountain is granular granite and somewhat unstable. Not to mention the serious burden of carrying a coffin to the summit of a mountain. Sometime later, after a serious storm, Emma's coffin was exposed and washed down the mountain. Her remains were found by two children playing in the creek below. They identified her and then reburied her in an unmarked grave in the local cemetery some years later.&amp;nbsp; &lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"&gt;Red Mountain&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="180" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-19vL--nYHRc/Tq64sLbhJrI/AAAAAAAAAOE/-GegvZX8bU8/s320/11+-+8" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"&gt;From the summit of Red Mountain&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;It became crystal clear why someone would want to be buried on the summit of Red Mountain. The 360 degree view is breathtaking. With Pikes Peak keeping an eye on the town below, it seems like a perfect spot to spend eternity. But something about this mountain must be cursed. Not only did Emma's coffin wash down from the top, but a dance hall that was constructed as a tourist attraction, similar to the Incline, lasted less than two years. Both dogs were acting a little strange at the top too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="clear: right; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-i8nnLkN3IQ0/Tq64r6XbgYI/AAAAAAAAAN4/1KBK9jAv0yo/s1600/11+-+7" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-i8nnLkN3IQ0/Tq64r6XbgYI/AAAAAAAAAN4/1KBK9jAv0yo/s320/11+-+7" width="180" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"&gt;The only sign of something amiss, other than an abandoned foundation, was this dead tree - keeping a strange guard near the top. &lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;tbody&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-CKyb9CKjY_k/Tq64rBlPU_I/AAAAAAAAANo/chz5QwMg2vI/s1600/11+-+5" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="180" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-CKyb9CKjY_k/Tq64rBlPU_I/AAAAAAAAANo/chz5QwMg2vI/s320/11+-+5" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;tr&gt;&lt;td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"&gt;Trees of this color are somewhat of an anomaly here.&amp;nbsp; &lt;/td&gt;&lt;/tr&gt;&lt;/tbody&gt;&lt;/table&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In honor of Emma Crawford and her unusual story, the city of Manitou Springs created a coffin race through the heart of town. (Just a small example of this towns flair.) Now in its 17th year, hundreds of people line the streets and watch as 50 teams race down Main, attempting to deliver their "Emma" to the line first. Of course the race is governed by a set of rules and competitors are not only judged by speed, but also by costume. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-_lbhepVLkDM/Tq64p6bJRCI/AAAAAAAAANU/W-k6zVJfwDU/s1600/11+-+2" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="180" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-_lbhepVLkDM/Tq64p6bJRCI/AAAAAAAAANU/W-k6zVJfwDU/s320/11+-+2" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-q1q0dkLNp_M/Tq64qLWfngI/AAAAAAAAANg/xfL1NrA7eGg/s1600/11+-+3" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="180" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-q1q0dkLNp_M/Tq64qLWfngI/AAAAAAAAANg/xfL1NrA7eGg/s320/11+-+3" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;It was hard to see what exactly was happening with so many people there, but the people watching was just as enjoyable as the race itself! Yes, that's a coffin on a drag car chassis. Klassy. My question is - does this guy only drive it during Halloween? Or does he break it out on all special occasions?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-RYtYD8Z4azQ/Tq64psc5YJI/AAAAAAAAANQ/bi1qBfFtyZk/s1600/11+-+1" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="180" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-RYtYD8Z4azQ/Tq64psc5YJI/AAAAAAAAANQ/bi1qBfFtyZk/s320/11+-+1" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Rushing at us at the speed of light, blurred by their flash of white and black polka dots, is the Dalmatian team with a bone coffin. Original, for sure! But the local fire department ruled the competition. I'm sure Emma would be proud. What a legacy, eh? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-VfXA6GMSRKY/Tq7J5c4qG2I/AAAAAAAAAPU/aQvc2eAPPXI/s1600/11+-+1" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="180" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-VfXA6GMSRKY/Tq7J5c4qG2I/AAAAAAAAAPU/aQvc2eAPPXI/s320/11+-+1" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;Oh, Manitou. I embrace you and all your weirdness. Well, almost all....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9669164-3846823474036268412?l=jentriplett.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jentriplett.blogspot.com/feeds/3846823474036268412/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9669164&amp;postID=3846823474036268412' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9669164/posts/default/3846823474036268412'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9669164/posts/default/3846823474036268412'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jentriplett.blogspot.com/2011/10/emma-crawford-coffin-race.html' title='Emma Crawford Coffin Race'/><author><name>Jennifer Triplett</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/102478281216127385889</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//lh6.googleusercontent.com/-769wQl2SR3s/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAAAks/Bygkya7neNw/s512-c/photo.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-t0Y4hZtTYZ0/Tq67hKLyXWI/AAAAAAAAAPA/xKgHHttT1TE/s72-c/11+-+3' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9669164.post-8623307214478243965</id><published>2011-10-28T10:20:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-10-28T11:37:52.031-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Clearing After the Storm.</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-YLD4GFudh5s/TqroPxaW3II/AAAAAAAAANA/_RK7usMhNHs/s1600/2011-10-27_10-02-00_464.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 181px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-YLD4GFudh5s/TqroPxaW3II/AAAAAAAAANA/_RK7usMhNHs/s320/2011-10-27_10-02-00_464.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5668598438658759810" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;On Thursday morning, we woke up to blue bird sky and the first serious dusting of snow. It weighed down the tree branches that normally block views of Pikes Peak from the bedroom window. On the right you'll notice a railroad grade that cuts through the mountain - that's the infamous "Incline."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-3iDDxFhHGrE/Tqrn5IpfAaI/AAAAAAAAAM0/Cxk-cp193oQ/s1600/2011-10-27_12-56-06_348.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 181px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-3iDDxFhHGrE/Tqrn5IpfAaI/AAAAAAAAAM0/Cxk-cp193oQ/s320/2011-10-27_12-56-06_348.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5668598049759232418" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;It is only a 20 minute walk through the heart of Manitou to get to the start of the Incline. Moonli came with me and stopped to smell the scents throughout the shopping district.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-cYtk3s0m__c/TqrnbaDic5I/AAAAAAAAAMo/3j7Fl_x-Wz4/s1600/2011-10-27_13-10-16_792.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 181px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-cYtk3s0m__c/TqrnbaDic5I/AAAAAAAAAMo/3j7Fl_x-Wz4/s320/2011-10-27_13-10-16_792.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5668597539035837330" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;The trail starts at the beginning of the Pikes Peak Cog Railway. It's an old abandoned tourist attraction that gains 2,000 feet in 3/4 of a mile. It's a butt burner.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-e0f89H_AM8w/TqrnP6P6h6I/AAAAAAAAAMc/wVMeQ-WXZ6U/s1600/2011-10-27_13-14-46_26.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 181px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-e0f89H_AM8w/TqrnP6P6h6I/AAAAAAAAAMc/wVMeQ-WXZ6U/s320/2011-10-27_13-14-46_26.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5668597341519251362" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;The views were stunning and Moonli had a ball for the first 1/4 mile.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-m7DDONtQu4g/Tqrmvp9yLFI/AAAAAAAAAMQ/3iZKGZwbkh0/s1600/2011-10-27_13-15-39_421.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 181px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-m7DDONtQu4g/Tqrmvp9yLFI/AAAAAAAAAMQ/3iZKGZwbkh0/s320/2011-10-27_13-15-39_421.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5668596787392425042" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;The sun is trying its best to melt the fresh snow down the hill.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-k_gYLigiJlM/Tqrmg9zUuEI/AAAAAAAAAME/mq-Ql-AqUCk/s1600/2011-10-27_13-24-58_396.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 181px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-k_gYLigiJlM/Tqrmg9zUuEI/AAAAAAAAAME/mq-Ql-AqUCk/s320/2011-10-27_13-24-58_396.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5668596535019223106" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;This pooch sure likes bounding down the trail!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-KT27x5ryagc/TqrmMcQfDdI/AAAAAAAAAL4/WqEPWagkIFY/s1600/2011-10-27_13-48-55_454.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 181px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-KT27x5ryagc/TqrmMcQfDdI/AAAAAAAAAL4/WqEPWagkIFY/s320/2011-10-27_13-48-55_454.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5668596182417346002" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Kind of icy in spots - but nothing the Yaktracks couldn't handle!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-6mmTZS9FIGk/Tqrl2REKKqI/AAAAAAAAALs/ISgrPYHjdaY/s1600/2011-10-27_13-31-25_203.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 181px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-6mmTZS9FIGk/Tqrl2REKKqI/AAAAAAAAALs/ISgrPYHjdaY/s320/2011-10-27_13-31-25_203.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5668595801455733410" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-LdY5IlCIkVI/TqrlmfqEwyI/AAAAAAAAALg/glET9J4SdFs/s1600/2011-10-27_13-57-55_678.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-LdY5IlCIkVI/TqrlmfqEwyI/AAAAAAAAALg/glET9J4SdFs/s320/2011-10-27_13-57-55_678.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5668595530494952226" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;The views from the top are always stunning. It's also the perfect spot to catch your breath.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-z5cxrgIdUHw/TqrlRfvmpFI/AAAAAAAAALU/ja6B3eldhWc/s1600/2011-10-27_14-04-43_195.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 181px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-z5cxrgIdUHw/TqrlRfvmpFI/AAAAAAAAALU/ja6B3eldhWc/s320/2011-10-27_14-04-43_195.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5668595169740891218" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Porcupine covered snow drift.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-AfqXjA0Crv0/Tqrk9cIVXLI/AAAAAAAAALI/cVbETBMxGDE/s1600/2011-10-27_14-11-38_333.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 181px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-AfqXjA0Crv0/Tqrk9cIVXLI/AAAAAAAAALI/cVbETBMxGDE/s320/2011-10-27_14-11-38_333.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5668594825173490866" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-MaJFDX-blDI/TqrkvnYl4NI/AAAAAAAAAK8/O_AwEpszar0/s1600/2011-10-27_14-44-12_742.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 181px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-MaJFDX-blDI/TqrkvnYl4NI/AAAAAAAAAK8/O_AwEpszar0/s320/2011-10-27_14-44-12_742.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5668594587676303570" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Some people choose to hike back down the incline the same way they came up. But I prefer the Barr Trail, a 4 mile meandering mellow route. You can see Red Rocks in the distance.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Qcz0tVNTyZg/TqrkfkrDDII/AAAAAAAAAKw/bobo8G0cGq0/s1600/2011-10-27_15-01-59_376.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 181px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Qcz0tVNTyZg/TqrkfkrDDII/AAAAAAAAAKw/bobo8G0cGq0/s320/2011-10-27_15-01-59_376.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5668594312070499458" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Moonli was a little tuckered out after our hiking excursion. On tap for today: a summit of Red Mountain, which is perfectly timed with the 17th annual Emma Crawford's Coffin Races...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9669164-8623307214478243965?l=jentriplett.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jentriplett.blogspot.com/feeds/8623307214478243965/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9669164&amp;postID=8623307214478243965' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9669164/posts/default/8623307214478243965'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9669164/posts/default/8623307214478243965'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jentriplett.blogspot.com/2011/10/clearing-after-storm.html' title='The Clearing After the Storm.'/><author><name>Jennifer Triplett</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/102478281216127385889</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//lh6.googleusercontent.com/-769wQl2SR3s/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAAAks/Bygkya7neNw/s512-c/photo.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-YLD4GFudh5s/TqroPxaW3II/AAAAAAAAANA/_RK7usMhNHs/s72-c/2011-10-27_10-02-00_464.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9669164.post-4113678354109959608</id><published>2011-10-26T07:43:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-10-26T08:23:38.200-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Introducing: Moonli.</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-2YoUYGKkrb0/Tqgcydf40nI/AAAAAAAAAJk/LpoejBGL4m4/s1600/2011-10-23_16-00-21_571.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-2YoUYGKkrb0/Tqgcydf40nI/AAAAAAAAAJk/LpoejBGL4m4/s320/2011-10-23_16-00-21_571.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5667811784283181682" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I flew home late on Friday night from O'ahu. I got in around midnight to squeals from Makiah and a warm, happy home. On Saturday morning, I headed up to Denver to meet with the Pro Design Women's Cycling team for their annual meeting and ride. To say I was a little hung over from jet lag is an understatement. On Sunday morning, still groggy and still on Honolulu time, Benjamin mused over getting his dog, Moonli. His mom has been graciously watching him for the last year as he traveled 40 out of 52 weeks. I've heard so much about this dog dog dog and how much he misses him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Wait till you meet Moonli, Makiah! He snores, he runs into things, he uses the dog door! He gets cold easy, he's a big guy."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We had talked about getting him in December over the holidays. Don't get me wrong - Benjamin and Makiah get along great. But she's a girl dog and dainty. So when he asked if I would be game to make the drive to Indiana to pick him up, driving over 2200 miles and 30+ hours straight in the car, I agreed without hesitation. &lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-O87KNphKAVc/Tqgd25q5rjI/AAAAAAAAAKU/mLcBYW_CVUU/s1600/2011-10-24_08-35-02_647.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 181px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-O87KNphKAVc/Tqgd25q5rjI/AAAAAAAAAKU/mLcBYW_CVUU/s320/2011-10-24_08-35-02_647.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5667812960076672562" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We arrived near Indianapolis around 7am Monday morning. Moonli could barely contain himself. He was so excited! Makiah seemed to understand and accept Moonli, even though he was at least double her size, half her age and triple her energy. But they really didn't have a choice - for we had to get right back in the car and drive 17 hours back to Colorado. They got to share Moonli's dog bed and Makiah's back seat. &lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-EXNAEAJ9gdA/TqgeYhYSwTI/AAAAAAAAAKg/D_IlGUJezaE/s1600/2011-10-24_11-43-39_111-1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-EXNAEAJ9gdA/TqgeYhYSwTI/AAAAAAAAAKg/D_IlGUJezaE/s320/2011-10-24_11-43-39_111-1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5667813537671725362" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;She only squeaked once when he accidentally sat on her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-ECaoajXB7xA/Tqgdg0y1MzI/AAAAAAAAAKI/hUHhuXIQuHo/s1600/2011-10-24_12-07-58_554.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 181px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-ECaoajXB7xA/Tqgdg0y1MzI/AAAAAAAAAKI/hUHhuXIQuHo/s320/2011-10-24_12-07-58_554.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5667812580810634034" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As the day wore on and the drive continued (Indiana, Illinois, Missouri, Kansas....) they got closer and closer to one another. Not once did they complain. Thank goodness!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-fNrCMrg3Diw/TqgdBdnjQ5I/AAAAAAAAAJw/FQEulsABYCU/s1600/2011-10-24_12-56-36_88.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 181px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-fNrCMrg3Diw/TqgdBdnjQ5I/AAAAAAAAAJw/FQEulsABYCU/s320/2011-10-24_12-56-36_88.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5667812042013361042" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You should have heard the giggles coming from our car as we bombed through the mid-west. When we finally turned off I-70 toward Colorado Springs, I got pretty excited. Excited for the joining of four worlds, excited for the memories to share, the laughs to be had and the big dog shit to pick up. Ha!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-RzxO2l95hOU/TqgdRmgVlZI/AAAAAAAAAJ8/YaDeYI02wwo/s1600/2011-10-25_10-35-48_681.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 181px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-RzxO2l95hOU/TqgdRmgVlZI/AAAAAAAAAJ8/YaDeYI02wwo/s320/2011-10-25_10-35-48_681.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5667812319276930450" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Yes, I did let him up on the bed the following day. He left little black hairs all over the white blanket. But he likes to snuggle and he melts into back rubs. Runs in the family.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9669164-4113678354109959608?l=jentriplett.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jentriplett.blogspot.com/feeds/4113678354109959608/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9669164&amp;postID=4113678354109959608' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9669164/posts/default/4113678354109959608'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9669164/posts/default/4113678354109959608'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jentriplett.blogspot.com/2011/10/introducing-moonli.html' title='Introducing: Moonli.'/><author><name>Jennifer Triplett</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/102478281216127385889</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//lh6.googleusercontent.com/-769wQl2SR3s/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAAAks/Bygkya7neNw/s512-c/photo.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-2YoUYGKkrb0/Tqgcydf40nI/AAAAAAAAAJk/LpoejBGL4m4/s72-c/2011-10-23_16-00-21_571.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9669164.post-8689939329635844181</id><published>2011-10-25T16:51:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2011-10-25T17:29:23.076-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Bottling it up.</title><content type='html'>Picture this: you are at a new restaurant you've heard rave reviews about. Everything about the food, the service, and the atmosphere has you antsy to try it. You made a reservation a week in advance and are dressed for the occasion. As you walk into the place you notice a buzz as the smells from the kitchen start to intoxicate you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You order a drink and it is a perfect balance of sweet, sour and alcohol. It goes down easy as you peruse the menu, tickled by the descriptions and excited for new taste combinations. The menu makes it hard to decide what to order with its carefully worded descriptions, and the waiter anticipates this, pointing you in the right direction.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As the food is delivered to your table from the kitchen, you begin to melt into the tastes and can't help but notice the passion someone has put into their cooking. Everything is cooked perfectly. Everything.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The portions are just right and the mouthful of melodies dance on your tongue. Dessert seals the deal and as you take that very last bite, you smile. Your belly is not overly full but slightly bulged, and the last bite lingers on your lips. You do the happy belly dance.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The feeling stays with you on the way home, as you get ready for bed and even remains in the morning. You are still thinking about that perfect meal, telling your friends about it, and sharing it with those you love.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That feeling, that contentment, that perfect balance of being full but not over the edge is how I feel about life right now. I'm bottling this feeling up by recording it, by savoring it, by appreciating it and by sharing it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yay for following your heart, taking big risks and following your passion!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9669164-8689939329635844181?l=jentriplett.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jentriplett.blogspot.com/feeds/8689939329635844181/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9669164&amp;postID=8689939329635844181' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9669164/posts/default/8689939329635844181'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9669164/posts/default/8689939329635844181'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jentriplett.blogspot.com/2011/10/bottling-it-up.html' title='Bottling it up.'/><author><name>Jennifer Triplett</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/102478281216127385889</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//lh6.googleusercontent.com/-769wQl2SR3s/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAAAks/Bygkya7neNw/s512-c/photo.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9669164.post-3223554403055249773</id><published>2011-10-19T09:30:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-10-19T09:31:24.783-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Staying connected.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;Anything is possible. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I use google reader to keep up with blogs of friends and inspirational people. It keeps all of my reading in one spot and came with a recommended reader section too. I only just discovered this feature, and I love it. It exposes me to a bunch of different blogs, ways of thinking, information, news and ways of looking at life. Recipes, travel, cycling, climbing, world news, Tosh.0.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I love it.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I mean, how else would you find out about the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle fad going on right now? Or read about the woman who discovered her second born child had down syndrome? It's inspiring and humbling and there's a place to share the stories that define us, strengthen us and earmark us for the challenges to come. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;For as much as I like to write, I also love to read. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;There's something about reading about other people's triumphs, failures and routines that makes me feel connected.  I am connected to the 100 year old man who just completed his 8th marathon, shattering age category records and completing it in 8 hours. I am connected to the woman who takes fabulous photographs of her children, appreciates her friends and the millions of small things that make up her day. I am connected to the thousands of other widows out in the world, trying to make sense of the card they were dealt. I am connected to families dealing with dementia, addictions, and disease.  I love the accompanying belly laughs, tears and AHA! moments.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;And I love stumbling over and over again on the simple fact that anything is possible. And it's nice knowing you are connected to it all.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9669164-3223554403055249773?l=jentriplett.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jentriplett.blogspot.com/feeds/3223554403055249773/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9669164&amp;postID=3223554403055249773' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9669164/posts/default/3223554403055249773'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9669164/posts/default/3223554403055249773'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jentriplett.blogspot.com/2011/10/staying-connected.html' title='Staying connected.'/><author><name>Jennifer Triplett</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/102478281216127385889</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//lh6.googleusercontent.com/-769wQl2SR3s/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAAAks/Bygkya7neNw/s512-c/photo.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9669164.post-141233742228832389</id><published>2011-10-18T13:01:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-10-18T13:02:09.962-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Crazy for cocoa puffs</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;I'm all hopped up on Liliha Bakery world famous cream puff pastries sitting at a Starbucks in Manoa valley, waiting for my mom and grandmother to be transported from Queen's hospital to Manoa Cottages. This is the day we've all been waiting for and here's hoping it goes smoothly as possible.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;We've been trying to get Gam out of the house she's lived in the past sixty years for several years now and it's been far from easy. In all honesty, she's been kept at home as long as possible by hiring outside help but she's managed to fire them all. She even fired her yard man when he raised his prices. Her reasoning? She'll buy her own lawn mower and do it herself! Can you imagine seeing a 95 year old woman pushing a lawn mower? Stranger things have happened, I'm sure.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;There are times when she accepts she needs help and can no longer live at home alone and others when she absolutely refuses to cooperate, saying everyone is after her money. And it's hard, if not impossible to predict which one you're going to get. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Oh boy, the sweetness of the cocoa puff has worn off and the reality is settling in. Let's hope things go well....&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9669164-141233742228832389?l=jentriplett.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jentriplett.blogspot.com/feeds/141233742228832389/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9669164&amp;postID=141233742228832389' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9669164/posts/default/141233742228832389'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9669164/posts/default/141233742228832389'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jentriplett.blogspot.com/2011/10/crazy-for-cocoa-puffs.html' title='Crazy for cocoa puffs'/><author><name>Jennifer Triplett</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/102478281216127385889</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//lh6.googleusercontent.com/-769wQl2SR3s/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAAAks/Bygkya7neNw/s512-c/photo.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9669164.post-6134837396911940931</id><published>2011-10-15T09:18:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2011-10-15T10:04:44.648-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Close to home.</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: rgba(26, 26, 26, 0.296875); -webkit-composition-fill-color: rgba(175, 192, 227, 0.230469); -webkit-composition-frame-color: rgba(77, 128, 180, 0.230469); "&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div&gt;With the world spinning madly on and bills need to be paid, mouths fed, peace to keep, daily routines to keep, just to scratch the surface, it's easy to ignore the long list of degenerative diseases that affect so many people until it hits close to home. 48 million adults from the Baby Boomer generation are reaching their later years and the chances of you knowing someone is increasing with each passing day. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;But in our mad world, is there space for the elderly? Do we take the time to make contact with them, reach out and make a difference in their lives? Or is being old and the accompanying challenges shunned and pushed into a corner? Do we become too busy to call our grandparents and parents?  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;My grandmother has outlived the majority of her generation. She certainly outlived her 5 brothers and 5 sisters. She's outlived her friends, my other grandparents and even some of her grandchildren. Up until 2 weeks ago, she was living on her own in the house where she raised her children and grandkids, with familiar noises and sights reminding her where she is and slowing the stages of dementia.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; But then she fell.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; Thankfully she had her LifeLine on her and she was able to call for help. It saved her life. Thank you LifeLine.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; It began slowly at first, this degenerative disease. Throughout my childhood, she would always mix up our names. Cappy, Kui, oh Jennifer! Since their were 5 Georges within our family, the guys had it easy. But when she started to forget them altogether, it was hard to deny that something serious was going on. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;It begins to progress, this degenerative disease, manifesting in daily tasks. Where did I put my keys? Someone must have stollen them. They stop caring about what they look like, how they dress, and their hygene. Complicated tasks, such as taking a shower or making food become too big of an overwhelming burden. It becomes frustrating. Their mood is altered and swings greatly. Anger mounts.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; The sweetest old lady on the block suddenly starts screaming and raging, only when asked why, she doesn't remember. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;It starts progressing faster, this degenerative disease. Her memory has serious lapses. How did I get in this hospital? Have I been here a while? When am I going home? Patiently, I answer her questions for the 50th time, only to repeat them a moment later. She smiles sweetly, "you have great teeth!"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; Then the aid delivers her next meal and she cringes, crying out loud about it. "I'm not hungry," she automatically responds. But what she meant to say is, "this is overwhelming." With so many choices on a plate, it's hard to swallow what to do. I carefully put some food in her mouth, she cries, and then chews. It takes her a while to swallow but I am patient. I know that I'm not ready to let her go yet. I'm not ready for this disease to take a firm footing in our lives. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I read that in the final stages she won't remember who I am or who she is. She won't be able to function on her own, won't be able to lift her hands to eat, let alone play rummy. She'll stop communicating, either unable to formulate words or say them. And eventually her throat will close up and she'll be unable to get any food down.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; Yesterday she didn't remember who I was. Thankfully, she remembered my mom. And it took us a better part of an hour, but she ate her dinner. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;It is hard to see someone who you've known all you life and who you love so much deteriorate slowly right before your eyes. It is hard to face this degenerative disease in the face as it unfolds. But I'd much rather face it than push it into a corner.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9669164-6134837396911940931?l=jentriplett.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jentriplett.blogspot.com/feeds/6134837396911940931/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9669164&amp;postID=6134837396911940931' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9669164/posts/default/6134837396911940931'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9669164/posts/default/6134837396911940931'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jentriplett.blogspot.com/2011/10/close-to-home.html' title='Close to home.'/><author><name>Jennifer Triplett</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/102478281216127385889</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//lh6.googleusercontent.com/-769wQl2SR3s/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAAAks/Bygkya7neNw/s512-c/photo.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9669164.post-6708387844699243262</id><published>2011-10-14T11:33:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2011-10-14T11:33:19.104-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Small comforts</title><content type='html'>I woke up in the middle of the night to the pounding rain. It was trying to come in the windows and doors, trying to soak everything in the house. I smile at the sound of its familiarity. Nu'uanu sits in a tropical rain forest and even Seattle's rain torrents can't hold a candle to these incessant downpours.Even with a wake up, I smile. Being at my grandmother's house on O'ahu is like being swaddled in a blankie. I know the creaks, moans and smells of this house like none other. I am happy to be here, despite the ups and downs of Gam's moods. One day she's in a great mood, smiling, cracking jokes and laughing and even eating her meals without too much protest. But the next a complete refusal to cooperate, bossing, not eating and sour puss. Yet she still insists on talking about sex. Oh, Gam! We played cards yesterday, on one of her better days. Dementia may have taken parts of her memory away but she is still a card shark. The cards are well worn, bent length wise so her gnarled hands can easily grasp them. She has to use her left hand as her right one is clumsy, riddled with arthritis. We play rummy, like we always do, and she sticks me with two aces in my hand when she goes out.She doesn't remember my name today. But she does tell the aides that the secret to staying young is to like men. She says it defiantly, trying to get a raise out of them, hoping that if she says just the right thing they might spring her from this joint so she can go home.But she can't go home. The sad truth is that a 95 year old woman is incapable of taking care of herself. Trying to do so is what got her into this pickle in the first place.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9669164-6708387844699243262?l=jentriplett.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jentriplett.blogspot.com/feeds/6708387844699243262/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9669164&amp;postID=6708387844699243262' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9669164/posts/default/6708387844699243262'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9669164/posts/default/6708387844699243262'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jentriplett.blogspot.com/2011/10/small-comforts.html' title='Small comforts'/><author><name>Jennifer Triplett</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/102478281216127385889</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//lh6.googleusercontent.com/-769wQl2SR3s/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAAAks/Bygkya7neNw/s512-c/photo.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9669164.post-4772804981881526011</id><published>2011-10-10T16:44:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-10-10T17:22:49.464-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Mindset Change.</title><content type='html'>Fat-tober* has now become Fit-tober.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why Fat-tober* in the first place? Because Nationals are done and gone and this is usually the best time of the year to take a month off from a grueling cycling workout schedule. It's an opportunity to press the reset button, both in mind and body. It's time to relax diligent eating habits, frantic heart rate monitoring, geek-ed out speed-o downloads, and planning your life around workouts, etc. Just think of how much time I won't be spending on doing laundry! (2x a day cycling chamois adds up, yo!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Instead, you should kick up your feet, sip some beer, and bake buckeyes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wait a minute!  When it is so hard to drop those extra pounds during the regular season, why not keep them off in the off season?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hence, Fit-tober.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm so one dimensional with cycling. It's the only exercise I do during the season. Sure I may throw some dumb bells around on occasion, but getting outside and doing other things I love is easily shrugged off. What about hiking? Climbing? Trail running? Yoga? Skiing? Ah, skiing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now is the time to dive back into those other sports I enjoy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, without further adieu, I deem October a month of trying something different to get my heart rate up. I will avoid the mixing bowl, baking sheets, etc. and instead break out the climbing shoes, running shorts and fanny pack. My tires will deflate in the bike room and I'll dust off my other gear that has been sitting there since last October. Oh, and maybe I'll wax my skis. Keystone is scheduled to open November 4! And it was snowing on Vail Pass last night on my drive home.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Something tells me I may be missing in the point.....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;(The real problem behind binge eating cookies and sweets is that I can't  stop from eating them. Especially if they're in the house. I have zero  will power. Zero. That batch of amazing &lt;a href="http://ladystiles.blogspot.com/2011/10/carrot-cake-sandwich-cookies-with-cream.html"&gt;Carrot Cake Cookies&lt;/a&gt; were gone in one day. ONE DAY! Thanks Michelle, for making it a small batch. Yikes! Oh, and the &lt;a href="http://jentriplett.blogspot.com/2010/11/buttermilk-chocolate-cake.html"&gt;Buttermilk Chocolate Cake?&lt;/a&gt; Gone in four days. A WHOLE CAKE!!!)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;*The term Fat-tober was first uttered from the lips of Beth Newell after her double National title wins in the Omnium and Points race.  Fit-tober is alllllll me.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9669164-4772804981881526011?l=jentriplett.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jentriplett.blogspot.com/feeds/4772804981881526011/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9669164&amp;postID=4772804981881526011' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9669164/posts/default/4772804981881526011'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9669164/posts/default/4772804981881526011'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jentriplett.blogspot.com/2011/10/mindset-change.html' title='Mindset Change.'/><author><name>Jennifer Triplett</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/102478281216127385889</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//lh6.googleusercontent.com/-769wQl2SR3s/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAAAks/Bygkya7neNw/s512-c/photo.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9669164.post-1003875098017489497</id><published>2011-10-10T11:17:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-10-10T11:30:17.180-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Home, or at least for a day.</title><content type='html'>I feel drunk today.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thankfully it's from a lack of oxygen of driving from sea level to 6500 feet in a day. I left LA at 8am yesterday and drove straight through, getting home just past midnight. 1,073 miles total, three and a half tanks of gas. No wonder I feel like a train wreck. I'm home for a couple of days before taking off again, this time to visit with my 95 years young grandmother.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I talked to her yesterday on the phone and she sounded little and far away. Getting some one-on-one time with her is priceless. Of course the first question she asked me, "how's your love life?" I told her I'd fill her in on all the juicy details once I get there.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was great getting some sun and warmth this past week after Nationals in the concrete jungle. To top it all off, on Saturday we went to Six Flags at Magic Mountain. They had a ride called X2 that we waited 90 minutes for and scared me senseless. Actually, I couldn't stop screaming in fright the entire time. And the photo afterward was priceless. Thank goodness they're like a million dollars to purchase so the evidence will be forgotten and discarded. I'm still laughing at how petrified I was on that ride - and I can't wait to do it again!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9669164-1003875098017489497?l=jentriplett.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jentriplett.blogspot.com/feeds/1003875098017489497/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9669164&amp;postID=1003875098017489497' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9669164/posts/default/1003875098017489497'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9669164/posts/default/1003875098017489497'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jentriplett.blogspot.com/2011/10/home-or-at-least-for-day.html' title='Home, or at least for a day.'/><author><name>Jennifer Triplett</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/102478281216127385889</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//lh6.googleusercontent.com/-769wQl2SR3s/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAAAks/Bygkya7neNw/s512-c/photo.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9669164.post-4681509406875783565</id><published>2011-10-05T10:45:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-10-05T10:55:04.569-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Rain Day</title><content type='html'>I'm on my second cup of java for the morning and I'm blaming the steady drizzle outside for that one. As I drove down the Pacific Coast Highway (PCH) this morning on my way to a coffee shop, I thought to myself how little I miss the rain. I mean, it's only been a month and a half and at this point it's safe to say I only want to see rain in the form of snow. Bring on the fresh powder!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know, I know. Colorado has already softened me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Speaking of the cold months ahead, I've heard a couple of people getting stoked about winter.... seven weeks until opening day at Beaver Creek, Keystone is rumored to open in a month, mountains are being dusted with white stuff and my giddy factor has increased substantially in the past few days. I've also received two separate heli-tour trips in the Canadian Rockies in the last two days. I LOVE SKIING!!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I also think that's a sign that I should take some time off the bike.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm itching for some mountain time..... I suppose I'll have to get my fix in the form of MAGIC MOUNTAIN. Yep, world class roller coasters here I come!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now, how about that third cup of joe....&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9669164-4681509406875783565?l=jentriplett.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jentriplett.blogspot.com/feeds/4681509406875783565/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9669164&amp;postID=4681509406875783565' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9669164/posts/default/4681509406875783565'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9669164/posts/default/4681509406875783565'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jentriplett.blogspot.com/2011/10/rain-day.html' title='Rain Day'/><author><name>Jennifer Triplett</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/102478281216127385889</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//lh6.googleusercontent.com/-769wQl2SR3s/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAAAks/Bygkya7neNw/s512-c/photo.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9669164.post-5750413399797809612</id><published>2011-10-04T11:47:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2011-10-04T12:14:43.881-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Gratitude</title><content type='html'>I'd like to thank the following people who contributed to my successes this past week....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To all the athletes who have helped pushed me throughout the years....Thank you for providing hard core competition and never easing up. For pushing boundaries, giving it everything and then laughing about our close calls and competitive spirits. For ripping each others legs off in the name of sport and balancing it with humbleness. Don't worry - I'll keep pushing you too!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Laura Todd - for helping my realize just how strong my spirit and passion is, to follow my intuition and guts and become the person I want to be. You are the master of your own destiny - and sometimes you need a little nudge as a reminder.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jeff Pyatt - for believing in track cycling and garnering support for Northwest athletes. Your constant support both as a leader and friend has been the back bone of what I do - thank you!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My mom - for helping my dreams come true and telling me I'm nuts in a loving kind of way. I couldn't do this without you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Marymoor Velodrome Association - for providing a steady platform for racing throughout the past six years since I joined the community. This organization does great work and I'm proud to say I am part of it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Broadmark Capital Cycling Team - for providing a means to race my bike and rip my own legs off. Thank you to all of the sponsors and contributors both on the bike and off to make this team what it is today. I am very fortunate to be a part of this team.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Benjamin Sharp - for being the best coach an athlete could ask for and for being a rock in my foundation. I can't say enough - and I will gladly bake you chocolate cakes for life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And to my friends and family who have sent me encouragement throughout the years by either watching me race, sending emails, texts or cards and expressing kudos - your support means the world to me. Thank you for believing in me and nudging me when needed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh - and to my readers - thanks for reading!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9669164-5750413399797809612?l=jentriplett.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jentriplett.blogspot.com/feeds/5750413399797809612/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9669164&amp;postID=5750413399797809612' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9669164/posts/default/5750413399797809612'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9669164/posts/default/5750413399797809612'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jentriplett.blogspot.com/2011/10/gratitude.html' title='Gratitude'/><author><name>Jennifer Triplett</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/102478281216127385889</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//lh6.googleusercontent.com/-769wQl2SR3s/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAAAks/Bygkya7neNw/s512-c/photo.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9669164.post-4662924720199592034</id><published>2011-10-02T21:43:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-10-02T21:56:54.909-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Winning second.</title><content type='html'>It all came down to the last sprint of the last race. A 2011 Women's Madison national title laid in the balance. Val and I timed our exchange perfectly, putting me for the final sprint with 1.5 laps to go.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I thought I had it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I gave it everything I had left.  I sprinted my legs off and came up inches short, if that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I knew immediately. There was no question if I had won or lost. I had lost. The titled slipped through my fingers. And the next opportunity? 365 days from now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hung my head low, like a dog being sent to the dog house. Replaying over and over those precious final seconds in my head. Did I give it everything? Yes. Did I hesitate? No. Was I tired? Absolutely, but that didn't prevent me from giving it absolutely everything I had left.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But today, that wasn't good enough.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you think of the greatest sporting moments, when it comes down to the wire - when there's only one winner and a loser, well that one will go down in my personal memory banks to fuel my fire in the season to come, in the long preparation to build up for next year.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In all honesty, I wonder if things were different. What if we had won it? Would I walk away from track racing? Now I'm hungrier for it than ever before. To have something so close be so close you can smell it, taste it, feel it......&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Those moments are why I love sport. For all the times you fail, for all the times it stings from being so close.... those are the moments that make amazing individuals. Winning is the easy part. Losing takes more strength.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9669164-4662924720199592034?l=jentriplett.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jentriplett.blogspot.com/feeds/4662924720199592034/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9669164&amp;postID=4662924720199592034' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9669164/posts/default/4662924720199592034'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9669164/posts/default/4662924720199592034'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jentriplett.blogspot.com/2011/10/winning-second.html' title='Winning second.'/><author><name>Jennifer Triplett</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/102478281216127385889</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//lh6.googleusercontent.com/-769wQl2SR3s/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAAAks/Bygkya7neNw/s512-c/photo.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9669164.post-1223147052134168189</id><published>2011-09-30T15:19:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-09-30T15:43:53.749-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Howdy!</title><content type='html'>A quick check in between track sessions at the ADT Event Center in Carson, California.....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today is day three in a row of double track sessions: one in the morning, one at night. The past two days have been filled with omnium racing and I've already calculated 163 race laps already, with 12 left for today in the Gold Medal final for team pursuit and 200 for the points and Madison races. This does not include the warmups or cool downs. Good thing I like racing my bike!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The omnium was a bit disappointing with a mid-race relegation putting me down an automatic 10 points and killing my chance at a National title. But thankfully there were only 10 women competing, otherwise I could have been down up to 24 places. If that sounds confusing, it is. The bottom line - I still ended up fourth, which is pretty remarkable if you ask me. And yes, I learned a lot.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Talk about a range of emotions that you go through when racing. The ups, the downs - it all comes down to who can hold it together for the longest. And the winner - Beth Newell did a remarkable job! I'm so proud of her and Michael, they are a great team.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tonight we face off to Sarah Hammer, Jennie Reed and Dotsie Bausch in the team pursuit. They rolled a 3:29 in qualifiers to our 3:46. There's a reason they're one of the best teams in the world.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9669164-1223147052134168189?l=jentriplett.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jentriplett.blogspot.com/feeds/1223147052134168189/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9669164&amp;postID=1223147052134168189' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9669164/posts/default/1223147052134168189'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9669164/posts/default/1223147052134168189'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jentriplett.blogspot.com/2011/09/howdy.html' title='Howdy!'/><author><name>Jennifer Triplett</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/102478281216127385889</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//lh6.googleusercontent.com/-769wQl2SR3s/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAAAks/Bygkya7neNw/s512-c/photo.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9669164.post-9168398840832131961</id><published>2011-09-27T17:31:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-09-27T17:32:27.732-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Chilling.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;It's the day before the big show begins. Relaxing on the couch feels like a chore, but you know time with the feet up is time well spent. Surfing the tv helps pass the time, but the racing remains on the brain. How could it not? We've all waited a full year for this. And now it's here.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;My mental state, as well as physical, is relaxed and confident. I am ready to race and enjoy the lessons it brings with it. I'm not worried if my preparation was enough, if so and so registered or not, of how I will be compared to anyone else. I am living in this moment, right here, right now. I am ready. I am fit. I trust myself and my coach in my preparation for this event and I am ready to throw down.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Content. Confident. Cool.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Come check it out if you're in the la area at the home depot center. The racing is going to be phenomenal.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9669164-9168398840832131961?l=jentriplett.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jentriplett.blogspot.com/feeds/9168398840832131961/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9669164&amp;postID=9168398840832131961' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9669164/posts/default/9168398840832131961'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9669164/posts/default/9168398840832131961'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jentriplett.blogspot.com/2011/09/chilling.html' title='Chilling.'/><author><name>Jennifer Triplett</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/102478281216127385889</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//lh6.googleusercontent.com/-769wQl2SR3s/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAAAks/Bygkya7neNw/s512-c/photo.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9669164.post-3356868712591265690</id><published>2011-09-24T21:54:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-09-24T21:55:51.134-07:00</updated><title type='text'>City of angels.</title><content type='html'>I headed out to Los Angeles a few days early, caravanning the 17.5 hours from colorado to la with Cari to hit up a local tune up race on the velodrome today and get a little track time before the big event this coming week. It was time well spent as I was able to dial in my saddle position, gearing and dust off those racing cobwebs. I was pleasantly surprised by my leg speed and engine and know that I have what it takes, more so than any other year before.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's nice to be back to the west coast with its salt air, humidity, and mild climate. But it's actually sunnier in Colorado then here! Come on sun, burn off that "marine  layer" aka smog!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Makiah made the trip with me and she provides a welcome calm amongst racing stress. Not to mention a guard dog. Ha! You read her prowess against the raccoon invasion, right?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've got an easy day tomorrow and a relocation from the lovely Extended Stay to Long Beach and then some openers to prep for wednesday's omnium marathon. Bring it!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I trust. I'm fit. I'm confident. Let's do this!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9669164-3356868712591265690?l=jentriplett.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jentriplett.blogspot.com/feeds/3356868712591265690/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9669164&amp;postID=3356868712591265690' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9669164/posts/default/3356868712591265690'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9669164/posts/default/3356868712591265690'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jentriplett.blogspot.com/2011/09/city-of-angels.html' title='City of angels.'/><author><name>Jennifer Triplett</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/102478281216127385889</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//lh6.googleusercontent.com/-769wQl2SR3s/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAAAks/Bygkya7neNw/s512-c/photo.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9669164.post-3199149764713749596</id><published>2011-09-21T08:05:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-09-21T08:32:50.300-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Picture story</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-56pXzXEbem0/Tnn9gVhSZuI/AAAAAAAAAIY/YbXRqiYdVvY/s1600/home.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 181px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-56pXzXEbem0/Tnn9gVhSZuI/AAAAAAAAAIY/YbXRqiYdVvY/s320/home.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5654829539114772194" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Greetings from sunny ColoRADo! Thought I would share some photos of the new digs and the surrounding area. This is the new house, which is directly across from Memorial park. We don't have immediate neighbors but the bears and raccoons have done an excellent job welcoming us.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-6q1wLdy9JAo/Tnn-LCEpJUI/AAAAAAAAAIw/WyAwf9lu2iA/s1600/munchin.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 181px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-6q1wLdy9JAo/Tnn-LCEpJUI/AAAAAAAAAIw/WyAwf9lu2iA/s320/munchin.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5654830272628729154" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yes, the munchkin made the journey. She's happy at the new digs and can't wipe that grin off her face. She's not much of a guard dog though. When we had a coon invasion she didn't even bark, or whimper for that matter. She had good reason to be petrified!&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-txh3AS08Yxo/Tnn9vvgpTKI/AAAAAAAAAIg/mmNLw4tQTug/s1600/house2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 181px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-txh3AS08Yxo/Tnn9vvgpTKI/AAAAAAAAAIg/mmNLw4tQTug/s320/house2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5654829803789438114" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Note the stairs. I calculated an additional 25 feet of elevation to get to the front door, on top of the 6,450 Manitou sits at. Talk about some high altitude training! Moving in was rough. Three days straight with approximately 8,000,000,000,000 trips up and down. And yes, the bikes have to come up and down the stairs. Oh joy!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-_MNydAGp_4c/Tnn_Aw05C1I/AAAAAAAAAJQ/i-vRY5-BtXo/s1600/section16.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 181px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-_MNydAGp_4c/Tnn_Aw05C1I/AAAAAAAAAJQ/i-vRY5-BtXo/s320/section16.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5654831195712195410" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;But when you have this out the back door? Totally worth it. This is Section 16, a 20 minute single track trail from the abode.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-KrLA4NE6P-Y/Tnn-xj5ucwI/AAAAAAAAAJI/DOFv94YP1DU/s1600/garden.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 181px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-KrLA4NE6P-Y/Tnn-xj5ucwI/AAAAAAAAAJI/DOFv94YP1DU/s320/garden.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5654830934544773890" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yep, affirmed again. The Garden of the Gods park is a 5 minute ride from the house.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-W0AgOG5_X8I/Tnn-XBeNSMI/AAAAAAAAAI4/Zxpm3Gr-t9w/s1600/pikespeak.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 181px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-W0AgOG5_X8I/Tnn-XBeNSMI/AAAAAAAAAI4/Zxpm3Gr-t9w/s320/pikespeak.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5654830478625949890" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Oh, wait. What is that? Pikes Peak you say? In your back yard? Yep. 14,110 feet to the sky and about 3 miles to the summit as a crow flies. I plan on conquering the sleeping giant soon.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-FqrMcSyKebY/Tnn_TGLHSEI/AAAAAAAAAJY/PR9iqb7b5vw/s1600/snowonpikes.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 181px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-FqrMcSyKebY/Tnn_TGLHSEI/AAAAAAAAAJY/PR9iqb7b5vw/s320/snowonpikes.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5654831510680193090" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The mountain got its first snow of the season last week and fall is starting to show her colors. This is the spot where I feel like someone needs to pinch me, every time I ride by. Which is every day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-kGwMdx_GnqY/Tnn-hjfPBtI/AAAAAAAAAJA/Wo0ZLdeF5Hc/s1600/newbbq.jpg"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-eDa4jA2hKYk/Tnn993spLgI/AAAAAAAAAIo/LSdbfRaBl8w/s1600/fluffy.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 181px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-eDa4jA2hKYk/Tnn993spLgI/AAAAAAAAAIo/LSdbfRaBl8w/s320/fluffy.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5654830046505414146" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Even Makiah needs to nap from having new surroundings to play in. Man, she's a fur ball!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9669164-3199149764713749596?l=jentriplett.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jentriplett.blogspot.com/feeds/3199149764713749596/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9669164&amp;postID=3199149764713749596' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9669164/posts/default/3199149764713749596'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9669164/posts/default/3199149764713749596'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jentriplett.blogspot.com/2011/09/picture-story.html' title='Picture story'/><author><name>Jennifer Triplett</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/102478281216127385889</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//lh6.googleusercontent.com/-769wQl2SR3s/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAAAks/Bygkya7neNw/s512-c/photo.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-56pXzXEbem0/Tnn9gVhSZuI/AAAAAAAAAIY/YbXRqiYdVvY/s72-c/home.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9669164.post-8328676258778057053</id><published>2011-09-20T18:48:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-09-20T18:50:46.718-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I am committed.</title><content type='html'>The hardest step was making the move to Colorado.  To pack up my things from 10 years of living a life in a Seattle craftsman house and put it all in a U-Haul truck. Going through the objects in my life was a journey in itself. I had to put some things to rest, honor others and down size, a lot.  But I had committed to it and there was no turning back.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've always dreamed of writing a book. And being someone who is keen on following her dreams, I am taking the time to do so now. I am committed to it - giving myself a due date of February 14, 2012 and allowing myself the time to give it everything I've got. It is a self-discovery process and I hope that by sharing my life experiences it will inspire those who read it to follow their hearts and dreams and also know that there is potential in finding love, life and laughter again after losing someone dear to you. You are the master of your destiny.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, dear readers, I hope you are doing exactly what you want to be doing at this very moment. And that you commit to live each day to the fullest.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(PS - Writing outside is RAD. Thanks Laura for the suggestion.)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9669164-8328676258778057053?l=jentriplett.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jentriplett.blogspot.com/feeds/8328676258778057053/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9669164&amp;postID=8328676258778057053' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9669164/posts/default/8328676258778057053'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9669164/posts/default/8328676258778057053'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jentriplett.blogspot.com/2011/09/i-am-committed.html' title='I am committed.'/><author><name>Jennifer Triplett</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/102478281216127385889</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//lh6.googleusercontent.com/-769wQl2SR3s/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAAAks/Bygkya7neNw/s512-c/photo.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9669164.post-4953196744462644351</id><published>2011-09-20T07:57:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-09-20T08:08:24.779-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Rainbow jersey wearing heroine: Judith Ardnt.</title><content type='html'>When I first started racing 8 years ago, Judith Ardnt was having an amazing season. She got silver and bronze that year in the road world championships and sported a super hero cape for women's cycling. Of all the female cyclists competing at the time, she stood out to me due to her calm demeanor, fierce competitive spirit and professionalism.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Not only is she an amazing athlete, but she has continued plugging away at the sport's top tier of racing, through the ups and downs of life and results. I've  kept an eye on her throughout her career and today she road a perfect time trial, winning gold at the Road World Championships in Copenhagen, Denmark.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wow. A well deserved journey and rainbow jersey. Congrats Judith!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9669164-4953196744462644351?l=jentriplett.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jentriplett.blogspot.com/feeds/4953196744462644351/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9669164&amp;postID=4953196744462644351' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9669164/posts/default/4953196744462644351'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9669164/posts/default/4953196744462644351'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jentriplett.blogspot.com/2011/09/rainbow-jersey-wearing-heroine-judith.html' title='Rainbow jersey wearing heroine: Judith Ardnt.'/><author><name>Jennifer Triplett</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/102478281216127385889</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//lh6.googleusercontent.com/-769wQl2SR3s/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAAAks/Bygkya7neNw/s512-c/photo.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9669164.post-4025247385451401677</id><published>2011-09-19T20:18:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2011-09-19T20:25:11.525-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Joey are you okay? Joey are you okay? Are you okay Joey?</title><content type='html'>You've been hit by, you've been hit by a smooth criminal!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;iframe src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/bEGAIYKTZ9w" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="315" width="560"&gt;&lt;/iframe&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Can't get that song or the flip out of my head....&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9669164-4025247385451401677?l=jentriplett.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jentriplett.blogspot.com/feeds/4025247385451401677/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9669164&amp;postID=4025247385451401677' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9669164/posts/default/4025247385451401677'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9669164/posts/default/4025247385451401677'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jentriplett.blogspot.com/2011/09/joey-are-you-okay-joey-are-you-okay-are.html' title='Joey are you okay? Joey are you okay? Are you okay Joey?'/><author><name>Jennifer Triplett</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/102478281216127385889</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//lh6.googleusercontent.com/-769wQl2SR3s/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAAAks/Bygkya7neNw/s512-c/photo.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://img.youtube.com/vi/bEGAIYKTZ9w/default.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9669164.post-5084859053580691546</id><published>2011-09-15T15:56:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-09-15T16:19:22.233-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I be Manitoid.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;I've been inducted into the weirdness that is Manitou. &lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Try as I may, avoiding the bizarre happenings in this little corner of the world was absolutely impossible. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I should have seen the signs - the Wizard shops, the trinket stores, the arcade with nickel games, even rumors of a coffin race that runs through the middle of town. But Adam's Mountain Cafe threw me off with its orgasmic organic foods and the easy access to trail upon endless trail. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;It rained hard last night. So hard it brought down mounds of red rock, staining Lovers Lane and causing a morning closure of our street. We woke up to down right chilly temps - in the mid-forties with no sign of warming up. A quick check on the webcam for Pikes Peak and yep, there's snow up there.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I had to turn the heat on even with layer upon layer of wool. I drank a second cup of coffee, broke out the slow cooker, bought squash that was on sale, and baked banana bread. All in vain attempt to delay the inevitable goodbye to summer. She may return and kiss our checks soon - her overnight departure a shock to the system, for sure.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;As the clouds lifted, slightly, Makiah and I both needed a walk. On our stroll up the lane to the post office, we stopped to chat with two people looking intently up a tree 500 yards from the house. Perched in the tree, soundly slumbering, was a mama bear and her two cubs. We snapped photos and the couple asked me if I was a Manitoid - and my response, "only for the past three weeks!" Apparently Ray, who gave me his purple "Satellite System Repairs" business card enjoys chasing bears in his free time.  He had kind of a crazy look in his eye - and told me the bears around here don't hibernate until late November, depending on the season.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 179px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-0EniMGEJDQg/TnKHyOoBxwI/AAAAAAAAAH4/n5Sfj708DV4/s320/2011-09-15_16-13-16_304.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5652729779292587778" /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I met myself a bonafide Manitou bear scarer. Or as his card says: Duckman.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Hmmm.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;And I thought I had seen it all yesterday with five Segways cruising through the Garden of the Gods. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Something tells me this is just the beginning.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9669164-5084859053580691546?l=jentriplett.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jentriplett.blogspot.com/feeds/5084859053580691546/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9669164&amp;postID=5084859053580691546' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9669164/posts/default/5084859053580691546'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9669164/posts/default/5084859053580691546'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jentriplett.blogspot.com/2011/09/i-be-manitoid.html' title='I be Manitoid.'/><author><name>Jennifer Triplett</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/102478281216127385889</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//lh6.googleusercontent.com/-769wQl2SR3s/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAAAks/Bygkya7neNw/s512-c/photo.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-0EniMGEJDQg/TnKHyOoBxwI/AAAAAAAAAH4/n5Sfj708DV4/s72-c/2011-09-15_16-13-16_304.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9669164.post-672712756370002053</id><published>2011-09-13T14:25:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2011-09-13T14:32:48.418-07:00</updated><title type='text'>It rains in paradise, too!</title><content type='html'>Dodging thundershowers but not escaping wet pavement, this morning I smiled realizing I haven't pedaling in the rain since June. That's got to be a record. Spoiled. Rotten.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The sun slips out between the showers - making colors pop and drying the porch. I look up out the window in my office, peaking West towards Pike Peak in hopes clear skies are to come for the second ride of the day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;An even bigger smile spreads as I think about now tacky trails beckoning me in the surrounding hills.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Those early morning pain cave intervals are quickly becoming a distant memory....&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9669164-672712756370002053?l=jentriplett.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jentriplett.blogspot.com/feeds/672712756370002053/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9669164&amp;postID=672712756370002053' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9669164/posts/default/672712756370002053'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9669164/posts/default/672712756370002053'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jentriplett.blogspot.com/2011/09/it-rains-in-paradise-too.html' title='It rains in paradise, too!'/><author><name>Jennifer Triplett</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/102478281216127385889</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//lh6.googleusercontent.com/-769wQl2SR3s/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAAAks/Bygkya7neNw/s512-c/photo.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9669164.post-8581978756181780610</id><published>2011-09-12T18:05:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-09-12T18:13:20.129-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Getting settled</title><content type='html'>With the last of the boxes gone from the front porch, I think it's safe to say we're settled. Makiah has a perma-grin and bounce in her strut that's nothing other than happiness. Come to think of it, so do I.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The tan lines are deepening, the hair getting blonder and the lungs adapting to the 6,500 feet of elevation. The days are shortening, ever so slightly, and I'm ready for the flip side of summer knowing that I'll have more Vitamin D than Miami. Yes, you heard that right. More sun than Miami. (Not as warm, but those are minor details.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Reading through an old journal from 2001 revealed my desire to live in the Colorado Rockies back then. It only took me ten years to make it happen! But better late than never. ;)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9669164-8581978756181780610?l=jentriplett.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jentriplett.blogspot.com/feeds/8581978756181780610/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9669164&amp;postID=8581978756181780610' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9669164/posts/default/8581978756181780610'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9669164/posts/default/8581978756181780610'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jentriplett.blogspot.com/2011/09/getting-settled.html' title='Getting settled'/><author><name>Jennifer Triplett</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/102478281216127385889</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//lh6.googleusercontent.com/-769wQl2SR3s/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAAAks/Bygkya7neNw/s512-c/photo.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9669164.post-392065556495731492</id><published>2011-09-11T06:37:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-09-11T07:30:38.847-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Jones Downhill</title><content type='html'>Thinking of yesterday puts a smile on my face.  It was a lazy but early morning, starting with breakfast at Adam's Mountain Cafe. We got there close to opening so the world famous cinnamon rolls were available and they did not disappoint. Mmmmm. Whole wheat cinnamon rolls with honey icing, which practically makes them guilt free! It didn't matter though - we had our work cut out for us that day, with a 5+ hour mountain bike ride on tap.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We loaded the car up and hit the trail right at noon. Let the 12 miles of climbing begin! We both rocked our hard tail 29ers (I finally chopped 2" off the handle bars and it no longer feels like I'm maneuvering a low flying aircraft). Opting out of adding on an additional 1.5 hours of riding from the house and roughly 1,500 feet of climbing, we started at the Gold Camp parking lot at around 6,500 feet. From there the route climbs over 12 miles to roughly 10,400 feet, where the air is cool and thin. At that elevation, it's important not to put yourself in the red zone where recovery is non-existent.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The first part of the climb is a hiker/cyclist/equestrian only trail that links to a red neck/biker/gun shooting crowd. As we were plugging away at the first section, Chris Carmichael came bombing downhill. Up, up, and up we climbed. At the half way point, we came upon a lookout where we felt silly in our spandex/camel back outfits compared to the gun rack welding, muddy jeep driving "YEEHAW!" screaming crowd. Shortly there after, we saw two guys pulled off on the side of road, having target practice at various bottles aimed toward the road. Sweet. I was very thankful to see two Forest Service patrol cars cruising the area.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-r3Yx13xDGUA/TmzFH4hWnYI/AAAAAAAAAHw/eKnIK3I-hdE/s1600/2011-09-10_13-32-42_272.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 181px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-r3Yx13xDGUA/TmzFH4hWnYI/AAAAAAAAAHw/eKnIK3I-hdE/s320/2011-09-10_13-32-42_272.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5651108371665165698" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We kept climbing. Two and a half hours later, we found our trailhead - 701. Just as we got to the top, three dirt bike riders from Pennsylvania crested and were friendly enough - but also a reminder that we were going to be sharing this single track with bikers as well.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-d1nifwoyoXs/TmzE3lCQv9I/AAAAAAAAAHo/39WdX6BLnzc/s1600/2011-09-10_14-46-06_652.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 181px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-d1nifwoyoXs/TmzE3lCQv9I/AAAAAAAAAHo/39WdX6BLnzc/s320/2011-09-10_14-46-06_652.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5651108091556577234" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'll put this out there right now: this single track downhill is TOTALLY worth every single minute of uphill climbing, &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;at altitude!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The trail was a little technical for me in some rocky sections but as the day wore on and I got sick and tired hiking my bike, I grew some heuvos and clipped in, rolling over the majority of features. That's actually when the real fun began - when I didn't give a shit anymore about whether I crashed or put a foot down and just went for it. Suddenly I was clearing stuff I would have hesitated on before and hooping and hollering about it. Thankfully the boy waited for me at certain points throughout the ride - and at one point was starting to get worried only to see me pop out with a big smile on my face with satisfaction of NOT un-clipping. YAHOO! He had been waiting about 15 minutes. Ha!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After 2 hours of single track, we came out onto High Road and decided to continue climbing up to the parking lot. And who did we see coming down High Road at the exact same time? The guys on dirt bikes from Pennsylvania. We all did a double take. Nice!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We were both blown by the time we got back to the car. A quick stop at the store on the way home for hamburger fixings and beer and we were in bed, sawing logs by 9pm. I think that's the trick to living in this area: play so hard during the day that you have to got to bed by 9pm. Done.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yep, I still have that pinch me feeling.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9669164-392065556495731492?l=jentriplett.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jentriplett.blogspot.com/feeds/392065556495731492/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9669164&amp;postID=392065556495731492' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9669164/posts/default/392065556495731492'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9669164/posts/default/392065556495731492'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jentriplett.blogspot.com/2011/09/jones-downhill.html' title='Jones Downhill'/><author><name>Jennifer Triplett</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/102478281216127385889</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//lh6.googleusercontent.com/-769wQl2SR3s/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAAAks/Bygkya7neNw/s512-c/photo.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-r3Yx13xDGUA/TmzFH4hWnYI/AAAAAAAAAHw/eKnIK3I-hdE/s72-c/2011-09-10_13-32-42_272.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9669164.post-9166968542682295579</id><published>2011-09-09T12:43:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-09-09T12:50:40.214-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>As a kid growing up, I remember my grandfather would routinely go on 50 mile bike rides. At the time they seemed like an impossible distance. He would come home, sweaty and salty from roaming the Eugene hillsides and sit down at the kitchen table in black spandex shorts, wife beater undershirt and start inhaling anything within reach. I still remember the way he smelled.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It took a while, and unfortunately my grandfather passed a couple of years ago, but I too share his passion of long road rides, coming home too tired to shower before cramming in as many left overs as possible.  I thought about what I was going to eat the last twenty minutes of my ride, willing myself to go faster so I could get that much closer to eating.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As I go back for my second helping of mushroom risotto, I think of you, Bope. And toast the next big spoonful of goodness to you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Long live long road rides!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9669164-9166968542682295579?l=jentriplett.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jentriplett.blogspot.com/feeds/9166968542682295579/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9669164&amp;postID=9166968542682295579' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9669164/posts/default/9166968542682295579'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9669164/posts/default/9166968542682295579'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jentriplett.blogspot.com/2011/09/as-kid-growing-up-i-remember-my.html' title=''/><author><name>Jennifer Triplett</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/102478281216127385889</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//lh6.googleusercontent.com/-769wQl2SR3s/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAAAks/Bygkya7neNw/s512-c/photo.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9669164.post-6996327848036174888</id><published>2011-09-08T14:53:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-09-08T14:56:42.296-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>The book is coming along.... and it has been hilarious to relive my boxing days. Wow, it really was my first love in sport. It's crazy to think that the majority of the women who I boxed with are all now professionals and have continued killing it in the sport. That's ten years of getting knocked upside the head!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I miss it. :)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9669164-6996327848036174888?l=jentriplett.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jentriplett.blogspot.com/feeds/6996327848036174888/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9669164&amp;postID=6996327848036174888' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9669164/posts/default/6996327848036174888'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9669164/posts/default/6996327848036174888'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jentriplett.blogspot.com/2011/09/book-is-coming-along.html' title=''/><author><name>Jennifer Triplett</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/102478281216127385889</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//lh6.googleusercontent.com/-769wQl2SR3s/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAAAks/Bygkya7neNw/s512-c/photo.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9669164.post-1441103433669948199</id><published>2011-09-07T11:20:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-09-07T11:30:44.988-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-hDqV0E8CWnk/Tme3zgMfKXI/AAAAAAAAAHQ/xh3W55M1spc/s1600/siurana%2Bryan.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-hDqV0E8CWnk/Tme3zgMfKXI/AAAAAAAAAHQ/xh3W55M1spc/s320/siurana%2Bryan.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5649686353003096434" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-XHnVaVHZPzs/Tme3X3oUa7I/AAAAAAAAAHI/m5njT4KUT6c/s1600/ryans%2Bflash%2Bpump.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-XHnVaVHZPzs/Tme3X3oUa7I/AAAAAAAAAHI/m5njT4KUT6c/s320/ryans%2Bflash%2Bpump.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5649685878257511346" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Three years.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The time has flown by, and at other times come to a complete stand still.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It seems like I found out just yesterday, yet ions ago.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And I get teary eyed and sad at times but know it's better to have known love then not at all.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9669164-1441103433669948199?l=jentriplett.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jentriplett.blogspot.com/feeds/1441103433669948199/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9669164&amp;postID=1441103433669948199' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9669164/posts/default/1441103433669948199'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9669164/posts/default/1441103433669948199'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jentriplett.blogspot.com/2011/09/three-years.html' title=''/><author><name>Jennifer Triplett</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/102478281216127385889</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//lh6.googleusercontent.com/-769wQl2SR3s/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAAAks/Bygkya7neNw/s512-c/photo.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-hDqV0E8CWnk/Tme3zgMfKXI/AAAAAAAAAHQ/xh3W55M1spc/s72-c/siurana%2Bryan.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9669164.post-8114979573913213226</id><published>2011-09-06T13:31:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-09-06T13:48:29.890-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Pedaling out those demons.</title><content type='html'>There's nothing flat about where I moved. Manitou is literally in the foothills of Pikes Peak. To start any ride, I head down Lovers Lane through Old Colorado City and the options start from there. Do I: a)ride through Garden of the Gods (hilly), b)head over to Gold Camp (big hill), c)ride into town via Colorado and head east (flat but exposed and usually windy)?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today's ride contained the first two options and I'm blown. Throw in multiple world champs, pan am champs, world record holders and Wheeler and well, you've got yourself a world class group ride. Too bad not many of them are competitive with one another. Ha! It was a queen of the mountain competition up anything resembling a hill.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At the top of Gold Camp is a 3k dirt section that's a little dicey at times on the road bike. You definitely have to navigate around any deep gravel sections and today my navigator skills failed me - I took a big slide on the bike eating serious dirt and banging my right wrist. Dope! Nothing like a little bruised ego to keep you in check.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The prep for Elite Track nationals is in full swing and I'm looking forward to the venture West at the end of the month. The track here is fast and the community has been really welcoming and inviting. I got rid of the last box in the living room and our space is starting to look habitable. Things are starting to come together, that's for sure.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9669164-8114979573913213226?l=jentriplett.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jentriplett.blogspot.com/feeds/8114979573913213226/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9669164&amp;postID=8114979573913213226' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9669164/posts/default/8114979573913213226'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9669164/posts/default/8114979573913213226'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jentriplett.blogspot.com/2011/09/pedaling-out-those-demons.html' title='Pedaling out those demons.'/><author><name>Jennifer Triplett</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/102478281216127385889</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//lh6.googleusercontent.com/-769wQl2SR3s/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAAAks/Bygkya7neNw/s512-c/photo.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9669164.post-1432056780365541294</id><published>2011-09-04T19:34:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-09-04T19:37:47.316-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Breaker two niner</title><content type='html'>Rad weekend filled with track racing, followed by more track racing, followed by three hours of fat tire action on the 29er with the boy. HUGE, big smiles were had. And the best part? Along with those smiles came a realization that I am right where I should be, enjoying this moment and living it to the fullest.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;YES!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9669164-1432056780365541294?l=jentriplett.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jentriplett.blogspot.com/feeds/1432056780365541294/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9669164&amp;postID=1432056780365541294' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9669164/posts/default/1432056780365541294'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9669164/posts/default/1432056780365541294'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jentriplett.blogspot.com/2011/09/breaker-two-niner.html' title='Breaker two niner'/><author><name>Jennifer Triplett</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/102478281216127385889</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//lh6.googleusercontent.com/-769wQl2SR3s/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAAAks/Bygkya7neNw/s512-c/photo.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9669164.post-9095590512610712857</id><published>2011-09-02T07:27:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-09-02T07:37:09.071-07:00</updated><title type='text'>10.</title><content type='html'>It would be impossible not to cry today. My tears came early this morning as I looked out East to a sunny sky.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today would/is? have been our ten year wedding anniversary.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And in a few days marks the third year since Ryan's death.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Big sigh. Big tears.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last night I raced my first night at the 7/11 velodrome. Corner two wasn't haunted with his presence. And when I struggled from digging myself into the red, I used my own strength to finish the race.  I was frustrated at not having the strength to hold on from an early move in the point a lap - and I know better. But sometimes you have to struggle just for the sake of struggling.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Guess what? It's sunny. For the 12th morning in a row. The sun is great for drying tears.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9669164-9095590512610712857?l=jentriplett.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jentriplett.blogspot.com/feeds/9095590512610712857/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9669164&amp;postID=9095590512610712857' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9669164/posts/default/9095590512610712857'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9669164/posts/default/9095590512610712857'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jentriplett.blogspot.com/2011/09/10.html' title='10.'/><author><name>Jennifer Triplett</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/102478281216127385889</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//lh6.googleusercontent.com/-769wQl2SR3s/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAAAks/Bygkya7neNw/s512-c/photo.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9669164.post-8038264331690706425</id><published>2011-08-31T13:44:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-08-31T14:06:11.499-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Late night visitors</title><content type='html'>Three nights ago, I had a dream my car was stolen. I woke up in the middle of the night, looked out the bedroom window and after seeing my car where I left it, fell back to sleep. In retrospect, something must have woke me up - and in the morning we discovered the garbage can was over turned and its contents picked through by some sort of animal.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Gross.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then two nights ago, a LOUD bang! and there was an enormous bear (the size of a PT Cruiser!) riffling through our stinky garbage. After yelling and screaming, it sauntered up the street, garbage bag in its mouth, ready to dine on a picnic basket. Apparently Yogi hit several dining establishments in Manitou that same night.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then last night? I hear something fall off the pantry shelf at 2:30am. I go downstairs, a little spooked about the whole bear incident, only to see a bag of corn kernels had fallen from the shelf and busted open on the floor. I used the bathroom, and went back upstairs to try and fall asleep. A few minutes later, another crash sounded.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What was that?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Makiah, here girl! And she comes groggily out from the closet. Some watchdog she is!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Looking around for a weapon of some sort to confront what ever is downstairs.... and the best thing I could come up with is a toilet plunger. We turned on the lights - hollering and making as much noise as possible. And whatever had climbed into the house through the dog doors, climbed back out them. Time to close that point of entry!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Although we didn't see it - my guess is that we had a late night visit from some coons, of the raccoon variety. They left a distinct red-rock paw print on the bathroom sill downstairs.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And poor Makiah was blamed for their visit last week. I knew something was up when they got into the cranberries. Makiah's a chicken skin lover, all the way! Cranberries? Only if she was starving. Poor little dog took the rap for some pesky critters!&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-MypGr_baMcE/Tl6hdp_NzUI/AAAAAAAAAHA/IkSxjmVknkg/s1600/raccoonscaryvv.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 307px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-MypGr_baMcE/Tl6hdp_NzUI/AAAAAAAAAHA/IkSxjmVknkg/s320/raccoonscaryvv.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5647128513628458306" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9669164-8038264331690706425?l=jentriplett.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jentriplett.blogspot.com/feeds/8038264331690706425/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9669164&amp;postID=8038264331690706425' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9669164/posts/default/8038264331690706425'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9669164/posts/default/8038264331690706425'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jentriplett.blogspot.com/2011/08/late-night-visitors.html' title='Late night visitors'/><author><name>Jennifer Triplett</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/102478281216127385889</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//lh6.googleusercontent.com/-769wQl2SR3s/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAAAks/Bygkya7neNw/s512-c/photo.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-MypGr_baMcE/Tl6hdp_NzUI/AAAAAAAAAHA/IkSxjmVknkg/s72-c/raccoonscaryvv.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9669164.post-6400231062117330367</id><published>2011-08-29T13:09:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-08-29T13:15:25.607-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Affirmations</title><content type='html'>I love affirmations.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes they are blatant and super obvious.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Other times they are subtle and easy to miss.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And every once in a while they are so perfect and meaningful, they fill your heart with joy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wish I knew how to bottle this feeling up, this joy. But I know that to fully savor it, I have to live in the moment - in the here and now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And just like that - an old Built to Spill song comes on my playlist, the sun peaks out of the clouds and brightens the day. We'll see if I'm this stoked tomorrow during a field test on the bike. :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9669164-6400231062117330367?l=jentriplett.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jentriplett.blogspot.com/feeds/6400231062117330367/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9669164&amp;postID=6400231062117330367' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9669164/posts/default/6400231062117330367'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9669164/posts/default/6400231062117330367'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jentriplett.blogspot.com/2011/08/affirmations.html' title='Affirmations'/><author><name>Jennifer Triplett</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/102478281216127385889</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//lh6.googleusercontent.com/-769wQl2SR3s/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAAAks/Bygkya7neNw/s512-c/photo.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9669164.post-2737820167010701477</id><published>2011-08-27T13:32:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2011-08-27T13:40:56.569-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Pinch me.</title><content type='html'>Sun.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lots and lots of sun.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've doubled my cycling tan lines in the short week I've been here. I can't wipe this shit eating grin off my face either. Every time I ride up to Manitou, a little mountain town 20 minutes from downtown toward Pike's Peak, I have to pinch myself. Even today, after a brutal group ride where we covered 50 miles in just over two hours, both water bottles completely empty, body suffering in the altitude (Colorado Springs is at 6200 feet, Manitou at 6400), an unmistakable smile spreads from ear to ear.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My backyard is Pike's Peak. Down the street sits the Garden of the Gods. Across the street, literally, is a park where they teach outdoor yoga, every day. And everyday at 2pm like clockwork a thunder head rolls in, dumps a little bit of rain and then gets sunny again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Someone on the group ride today told me this area gets more sun than Florida. YES!!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It is perfect and exceeding my expectations. Come check it out for yourselves.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9669164-2737820167010701477?l=jentriplett.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jentriplett.blogspot.com/feeds/2737820167010701477/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9669164&amp;postID=2737820167010701477' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9669164/posts/default/2737820167010701477'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9669164/posts/default/2737820167010701477'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jentriplett.blogspot.com/2011/08/pinch-me.html' title='Pinch me.'/><author><name>Jennifer Triplett</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/102478281216127385889</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//lh6.googleusercontent.com/-769wQl2SR3s/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAAAks/Bygkya7neNw/s512-c/photo.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9669164.post-8318916898843037083</id><published>2011-08-22T06:07:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-08-22T06:08:20.641-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Taking the leap....</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;Thirty plus hours of driving and well over 1500 miles in three days and we're here. It's the first morning in the house and the sun is shining, the sky a brilliant shade of blue and birds happily chirping outside. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;This place is cooler than I thought it would be. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;The house is funky and built into a hillside. it is perfect.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Directly across the street is a park with a fountain and community garden plot. To the south and out a bedroom window I have a view of Pike's peak. Out the other bedroom window I watched the sunrise this morning. A perfect spot to write my book.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;A lump builds in my throat, tears flood my eyes at the realization of how far I've come and rebuilt my life. I am astonished and am embracing this moment. To say I am joyful and happy is an understatement.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;YAHOO!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Amazing.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9669164-8318916898843037083?l=jentriplett.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jentriplett.blogspot.com/feeds/8318916898843037083/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9669164&amp;postID=8318916898843037083' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9669164/posts/default/8318916898843037083'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9669164/posts/default/8318916898843037083'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jentriplett.blogspot.com/2011/08/taking-leap.html' title='Taking the leap....'/><author><name>Jennifer Triplett</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/102478281216127385889</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//lh6.googleusercontent.com/-769wQl2SR3s/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAAAks/Bygkya7neNw/s512-c/photo.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9669164.post-625595879999254670</id><published>2011-08-15T13:41:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-08-15T13:48:06.742-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Jiggidy Jo Jammin....</title><content type='html'>I made five batches of jam yesterday. Blueberry, raspberry, blackberry, boysenberry and mixed berry.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yum, yum, yum, yum and YUM!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had one last bonding session with my kitchen before I seriously pack things up and get ready for the wagon roll out on Friday. The past few weeks have flown by and the last few days before my departure date are zooming.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I will savor the fruits of my labor come winter. I'll be that much more thankful for taking the time, standing over the stove in the cool Seattle days of August, and putting a lot of love into that jam.  Anything worthwhile take time and a whole lot of love.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9669164-625595879999254670?l=jentriplett.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jentriplett.blogspot.com/feeds/625595879999254670/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9669164&amp;postID=625595879999254670' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9669164/posts/default/625595879999254670'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9669164/posts/default/625595879999254670'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jentriplett.blogspot.com/2011/08/jiggidy-jo-jammin.html' title='Jiggidy Jo Jammin....'/><author><name>Jennifer Triplett</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/102478281216127385889</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//lh6.googleusercontent.com/-769wQl2SR3s/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAAAks/Bygkya7neNw/s512-c/photo.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9669164.post-2317606006899706500</id><published>2011-08-15T10:34:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-08-15T11:08:31.064-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Leaping Leprechauns!</title><content type='html'>My living room has an odd assortment of boxes. I'm cheap and don't want to pay for boxes that will just get recycled. I've been sorting through the objects in my house that have been collecting all my life. I'm being brutal about getting rid of things that clutter up space. I marvel at how much money I've spent on such random stuff over the years - rain sticks, drums, kitchen gadgets, bikes, etc. And I vow to never buy anything new again... until I do.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I keep coming across hidden gems, ones long since forgotten.  Ryan's leprechaun outfit... the one he wore for Halloween when we were 20 and got so pissed drunk off a spody that he blacked out. Don't be fooled - I was hammered too and dressed up as a 350 pound lumberjack. Picture us, if you will. Ryan, in green tights, knickers, plaid sport jacket, red beard, green felt hat, elf shoes and a crooked cane. And me, plaid shirt stuffed with a pillow, size 48 pants with rainbow suspenders, black beard, lumberjack hat, doc Martin boots and quadruple Ryan's size.  At some point in the evening, some friends and I thought we should add wood chips to enhance my fake black beard and used bread crumbs. Nasty. I have pictures.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We were smart enough to walk home night in the cool fall air of Bellingham. The leaves had mostly fallen from the trees, blanketing the streets in a slick leaf carpet. Ryan wanted to make out - despite my large stature and bread crumbed beard. Feeling far from sexy, I insisted he walk on the other side of the street. And then I watched as he swung his crooked staff to knock a low hanging branch and somersaulted in the air, landing flat on his back in the middle of a pile of leaf sludge.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;THUMP.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I peed my pants.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We got back to the house, and I was still hysterically laughing. I made him strip off his wee outfit in the mudroom since he was filthy. It was then thrown in a plastic bag, where it's remained ever since. And that's what I discovered this morning.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I didn't pee my pants this time. But I sure did get a kick out of recalling that night.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9669164-2317606006899706500?l=jentriplett.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jentriplett.blogspot.com/feeds/2317606006899706500/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9669164&amp;postID=2317606006899706500' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9669164/posts/default/2317606006899706500'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9669164/posts/default/2317606006899706500'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jentriplett.blogspot.com/2011/08/leaping-lephrechauns.html' title='Leaping Leprechauns!'/><author><name>Jennifer Triplett</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/102478281216127385889</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//lh6.googleusercontent.com/-769wQl2SR3s/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAAAks/Bygkya7neNw/s512-c/photo.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9669164.post-742004228433814752</id><published>2011-08-11T19:17:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-08-11T19:26:30.905-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Jamming!</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;There's something about acoustic music that makes me want to write. Maybe it's because it puts me in a relaxed state of mind and I can let my thoughts wander from between my ears to paper.....&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I'm between raspberry jam batches as we speak. This is the first year I haven't gone out to Remlinger farms to pick the berries myself, but to say I'm slightly pressed for time is an understatement. Luckily I'll have two dozen of jars to make the journey with me to Colorado. They'll serve as a midwinter reminder of the northwests summer bounty. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;It's crazy to think I've never lived outside of washington or Oregon. But I must explore. I must see what's out there. I want to dry out my skin, hair and soul in the southwest. I want to surround myself with dozens of fourteeners, endless single track and less oxygen. It feels so right, this exploration, this grand adventure. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Life is short, and I'm making the most of it.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9669164-742004228433814752?l=jentriplett.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jentriplett.blogspot.com/feeds/742004228433814752/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9669164&amp;postID=742004228433814752' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9669164/posts/default/742004228433814752'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9669164/posts/default/742004228433814752'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jentriplett.blogspot.com/2011/08/jamming.html' title='Jamming!'/><author><name>Jennifer Triplett</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/102478281216127385889</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//lh6.googleusercontent.com/-769wQl2SR3s/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAAAks/Bygkya7neNw/s512-c/photo.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9669164.post-8239356182615550580</id><published>2011-08-09T22:36:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2011-08-09T22:40:16.052-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>We interrupt this broadcast with the following message: connecting with a friend who has been in your shoes is priceless. I repeat, priceless.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thank you, Emily, for meeting with me tonight. The sushi at Shiro's was perfect and the company fantastic.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And for the record, we shut that place down.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Word.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9669164-8239356182615550580?l=jentriplett.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jentriplett.blogspot.com/feeds/8239356182615550580/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9669164&amp;postID=8239356182615550580' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9669164/posts/default/8239356182615550580'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9669164/posts/default/8239356182615550580'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jentriplett.blogspot.com/2011/08/we-interrupt-this-broadcast-with.html' title=''/><author><name>Jennifer Triplett</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/102478281216127385889</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//lh6.googleusercontent.com/-769wQl2SR3s/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAAAks/Bygkya7neNw/s512-c/photo.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9669164.post-6257026880889412974</id><published>2011-08-08T12:48:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2011-08-08T12:56:38.037-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Poof!</title><content type='html'>I probably would have stayed in my pj's until 1pm yesterday had Heidi not shown up. I needed a lazy Sunday morning and can't remember the last time I shuffled around the house and watched a marathon of True Blood episodes. Legs propped up and blinders on to the dozens of boxes filling my living room. I recharged my batteries and it felt really good.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I chatted with a woman this morning on the phone who said if she ever had to move again she would just take a match to everything she owned. Amen, sister. Amen.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My garage sale was a small success but I wish everything would have sold. Instead random objects are gone - and a lot of goods remain. But rather than bring them back into the house to deal with, they're in my garage waiting for Salvation army to stop by and pick them up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm getting rid of all the stuff that has some how accumulated in my house. A match does sound easier.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9669164-6257026880889412974?l=jentriplett.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jentriplett.blogspot.com/feeds/6257026880889412974/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9669164&amp;postID=6257026880889412974' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9669164/posts/default/6257026880889412974'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9669164/posts/default/6257026880889412974'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jentriplett.blogspot.com/2011/08/poof.html' title='Poof!'/><author><name>Jennifer Triplett</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/102478281216127385889</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//lh6.googleusercontent.com/-769wQl2SR3s/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAAAks/Bygkya7neNw/s512-c/photo.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9669164.post-5543220211718091662</id><published>2011-08-04T12:40:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2011-08-04T12:49:29.336-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Another sign of bravery.</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-ny2MDligwOY/Tjr10klwj9I/AAAAAAAAAG4/uQehGaFk-uM/s1600/stp2003jt.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 275px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-ny2MDligwOY/Tjr10klwj9I/AAAAAAAAAG4/uQehGaFk-uM/s320/stp2003jt.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5637088167131647954" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Oh yeah, that's me. On my Novara Big Buzz, circa 2003. Seattle to Portland. Rocking the camel back, squeaky baby doll head on the handle bars, and braking for no apparent reason while sporting Smith Slider sunglasses.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We all start somewhere.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The only thing that hasn't been swapped out by team gear, a road bike and streamlined clothing is that big whopper doozy of a smile. That's remained constant. :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In 2004 I got myself a new Pink Kona that loved to pass men and bought the commemorative postcard photo of myself. And to think - I thought I was hot shit!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you send me your address I'll send you one.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9669164-5543220211718091662?l=jentriplett.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jentriplett.blogspot.com/feeds/5543220211718091662/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9669164&amp;postID=5543220211718091662' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9669164/posts/default/5543220211718091662'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9669164/posts/default/5543220211718091662'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jentriplett.blogspot.com/2011/08/another-sign-of-bravery.html' title='Another sign of bravery.'/><author><name>Jennifer Triplett</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/102478281216127385889</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//lh6.googleusercontent.com/-769wQl2SR3s/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAAAks/Bygkya7neNw/s512-c/photo.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-ny2MDligwOY/Tjr10klwj9I/AAAAAAAAAG4/uQehGaFk-uM/s72-c/stp2003jt.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9669164.post-4047270549268699767</id><published>2011-08-03T11:00:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-08-03T11:26:52.447-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I am brave.</title><content type='html'>Bravery. What does that mean to you?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Courageousness, daring deeds, acts of heroism, audaciousness, a quality of spirit that enables you to face danger or pain without showing fear.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In the past three years, I've gained a new perspective on what it means. I've been overwhelmed this past week with physically dealing with inner demons and ghosts. I'm stirring up the dust that has settled in my basement and not backing down.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It is easy to forget when things are out of sight and out of mind. Yet for some reason, when you're faced with dealing with something or not - it seems perfectly reasonable to put its judgment off until later, to delay sorting through messy emotions and feelings. We suppress things because they evoke an emotional charge - and it's much harder to deal with something that isn't positive. So naturally, we put it off. Or at least, I do.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Trophies from childhood, rock climbing gear, hockey gear, a ten year old wedding dress. Things that remind me of my past but now mean something different. Like what it's like to live life beyond losing your spouse. Like how you have a choice on how to pick up the pieces and move on.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have been given a fresh start, a new beginning. The gaping hole in my heart has been filled and expanded in other ways - ones that I wasn't expecting. And in ways that have my heart signing again. As I sort through the things in my basement, I know that I am making room for the new adventures and love in my life.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9669164-4047270549268699767?l=jentriplett.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jentriplett.blogspot.com/feeds/4047270549268699767/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9669164&amp;postID=4047270549268699767' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9669164/posts/default/4047270549268699767'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9669164/posts/default/4047270549268699767'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jentriplett.blogspot.com/2011/08/i-am-brave.html' title='I am brave.'/><author><name>Jennifer Triplett</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/102478281216127385889</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//lh6.googleusercontent.com/-769wQl2SR3s/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAAAks/Bygkya7neNw/s512-c/photo.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9669164.post-108761673744250332</id><published>2011-07-30T14:54:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2011-07-30T15:05:33.450-07:00</updated><title type='text'>BIG steps</title><content type='html'>I've lived in this house for 10 years. The gear pile Ryan and I accumulated filed half the basement. It didn't help that we both worked at REI and got a pro deal on EVERYTHING. I swear every paycheck we earned there went right back into outdoor gear.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We also held onto sports gear from our younger years. I've counted 5 pairs of skis over 198 in length, 3 tennis rackets, scores of trophies, dozens of climbing shoes, ski boots, hockey sticks, stinky boxing gloves - and my prize possession rediscovered today: CHUCK NORRIS ass kicking gloves.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Guess which item made the cut?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's wild going through this stuff. Especially Ryan's. It was from an era long before we ever met. He was so flipping talented of an athlete. Baseball, football, hockey, basketball - anything to do with sports - he mastered. He also mastered collecting cards. I have well over 5,000 of them. I can just imagine him as a little kid - organizing them in scientific fashion and pulling a fast one on some unsuspecting kid who didn't know the worth of what they held in their hands. It's sad, going through his stuff. It's an in your face reminder of how much I miss him and how big of a space he filled in my life. But I was going to have to do it sooner or later. And I'm not carting that stuff with me to Colorado.....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I also sold my motorcycle today. That was huge. It was a gift from Ryan and we used to ride them together. I put it up on Craig's List last week and it sold within 2 days. The truth is I don't ride it. And let's face, I need the cash. Following your dreams doesn't come without sacrifices.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9669164-108761673744250332?l=jentriplett.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jentriplett.blogspot.com/feeds/108761673744250332/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9669164&amp;postID=108761673744250332' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9669164/posts/default/108761673744250332'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9669164/posts/default/108761673744250332'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jentriplett.blogspot.com/2011/07/big-steps.html' title='BIG steps'/><author><name>Jennifer Triplett</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/102478281216127385889</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//lh6.googleusercontent.com/-769wQl2SR3s/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAAAks/Bygkya7neNw/s512-c/photo.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9669164.post-9201046432580020429</id><published>2011-07-28T17:34:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-07-29T08:44:48.080-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Dream Box</title><content type='html'>Months ago I read somewhere on how to make a dream box. Basically you take any shoe box or something similar in size and write "Dream Box - what is inside will be."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My original dream box was accidentally used by Jasmine, our office assistant. She had a copy toner crisis and needed a box. So she went into my office, emptied the contents and used it. I didn't realize it was gone until the shipment she sent out was returned to sender.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Hey! That's my dream box!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She looked at me wide eyed and slightly panicked.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thankfully she put its contents aside, which went unnoticed by me in my office for a week or so. So I had to find a new box. Instead of making a cut out and putting signage on the outside, I just used a plain old cardboard box. I put the contents back in it, and it has sat for months in the corner of my office.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today I rediscovered it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was just a plain box, sitting half open on the floor. I thought, what's in here? And started reading my dreams again. As I read them I realized in disbelief that most of those things have come true. Whoa.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I got goose bumps and somewhat emotional.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Inside was a poster from the Garden of the Gods, which I had collected 5 years ago on a track race bike trip with my mom. Something about that place touched me then. I remember feeling overwhelmed and giddy when visiting the Olympic Training Center. The mountains, the dry air - the Rocky Mountain high. It felt so right to be there - and I felt a strong, intuitive connection to the Springs.  And now, the big news.... I'm moving there. In two weeks.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This may come as a shock to most of you - but it's something I've been thinking about doing for quite some time now. A fresh start, a huge step, and sun. Lots and lots of sun. Oh and skiing. And mountain biking. And training altitude. And, and, and..... a Big Spoon.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I also put a note in there to have long fingernails. And after 30+ years of biting, I finally quit.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So what's next? Adding more things to my dream box.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9669164-9201046432580020429?l=jentriplett.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jentriplett.blogspot.com/feeds/9201046432580020429/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9669164&amp;postID=9201046432580020429' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9669164/posts/default/9201046432580020429'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9669164/posts/default/9201046432580020429'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jentriplett.blogspot.com/2011/07/dream-box.html' title='Dream Box'/><author><name>Jennifer Triplett</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/102478281216127385889</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//lh6.googleusercontent.com/-769wQl2SR3s/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAAAks/Bygkya7neNw/s512-c/photo.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9669164.post-1552897266561329</id><published>2011-07-27T09:17:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-07-27T09:25:37.064-07:00</updated><title type='text'>teleportation</title><content type='html'>Big things are happening right now and it's keeping me insanely busy. I will fill you all in when I get a moment.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I will note - that I was cleaning out my gear closet in the basement this morning and got stopped cold in my tracks by a forgotten bag.  Inside were Ryan's clothes from the cabin. They still smell like him. And I couldn't move. I cursed myself for holding onto them. For having to endure something that hard - and suddenly being teleport back to day I found out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes examining the things in your closet is the hardest thing you could possibly do.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Whoa, that was a rough one.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9669164-1552897266561329?l=jentriplett.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jentriplett.blogspot.com/feeds/1552897266561329/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9669164&amp;postID=1552897266561329' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9669164/posts/default/1552897266561329'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9669164/posts/default/1552897266561329'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jentriplett.blogspot.com/2011/07/teleportation.html' title='teleportation'/><author><name>Jennifer Triplett</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/102478281216127385889</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//lh6.googleusercontent.com/-769wQl2SR3s/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAAAks/Bygkya7neNw/s512-c/photo.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9669164.post-4960053874087891748</id><published>2011-07-25T14:17:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2011-07-25T14:17:18.232-07:00</updated><title type='text'>You only live once...</title><content type='html'>&lt;iframe src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/q6gYb1X-Xa8" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="349" width="425"&gt;&lt;/iframe&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9669164-4960053874087891748?l=jentriplett.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jentriplett.blogspot.com/feeds/4960053874087891748/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9669164&amp;postID=4960053874087891748' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9669164/posts/default/4960053874087891748'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9669164/posts/default/4960053874087891748'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jentriplett.blogspot.com/2011/07/you-only-live-once.html' title='You only live once...'/><author><name>Jennifer Triplett</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/102478281216127385889</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//lh6.googleusercontent.com/-769wQl2SR3s/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAAAks/Bygkya7neNw/s512-c/photo.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://img.youtube.com/vi/q6gYb1X-Xa8/default.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9669164.post-8397857234896595416</id><published>2011-07-14T11:25:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2011-07-14T11:33:59.387-07:00</updated><title type='text'>gush...</title><content type='html'>I did an hour recovery ride this morning and it felt AMAZING. My legs spun happily along, thankful for the break and are eager to get back to some racing action. Three days off - completely. Funny how in that short of time you can rekindle your love and passion for two wheeled adventures. Being in the saddle is therapy - I spend time visualizing, exercising deep breathing, and living in the now. It's a portal to happiness.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Six years ago I made a wise decision to prioritize my access to pedaling and it has proved, many times over, to be a smart move.  Life is too short to be taken for granted and not do the things you love. Live your passion and follow your dreams.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9669164-8397857234896595416?l=jentriplett.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jentriplett.blogspot.com/feeds/8397857234896595416/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9669164&amp;postID=8397857234896595416' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9669164/posts/default/8397857234896595416'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9669164/posts/default/8397857234896595416'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jentriplett.blogspot.com/2011/07/gush.html' title='gush...'/><author><name>Jennifer Triplett</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/102478281216127385889</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//lh6.googleusercontent.com/-769wQl2SR3s/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAAAks/Bygkya7neNw/s512-c/photo.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9669164.post-2460242372667350886</id><published>2011-07-12T05:34:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-07-12T06:08:46.982-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>Wow, what a month. 18 race days in the past 30. I should be tired, and I am.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have three days off in a row - no bike, no pedaling. Just vegging out. Playing catch up on chores, mentally recharging, spa time, berry picking, jam making, walking the pooch and watching terrible Jack Black movies. And then I get to take my 29er to the dirt. Yes, please.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I take this time off seriously. I spend more time on my couch, feat up, tele on and enjoy the sheer simplicity of doing nothing. I am plugging in my rechargeable batteries and waiting for the green light to illuminate before I blast off again on another big block of training.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ballard, Bellingham, Burien.... I'm seeing a trend with "B" city named races. Derby Days was close - but it's great to humbled by a veteran pro who is one of the nicest people on the planet. Funny, Amara's photos from the event show me smiling through the finish line. And looking back it's because my head is in a great space. I love competition and being tested on my ability is certainly a highlight of racing. And sure, who doesn't want to win every race? But realistically - who can win every race? To me, knowing you gave something your full attention and effort is something to be proud of and happy about. And on that day I did just that - along with my teammates. (But you can bet I've replayed that race finish over and over in my head on how to improve it for the win - come on, I am sort of competitive!)&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-1cPnTW6pNHc/ThxG1JEGA9I/AAAAAAAAAGI/LSzt4Hoj2qk/s1600/close.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-1cPnTW6pNHc/ThxG1JEGA9I/AAAAAAAAAGI/LSzt4Hoj2qk/s320/close.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5628451513086378962" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-bcj2ID6-B3g/ThxHCUxPhPI/AAAAAAAAAGQ/XsIznxmCPuw/s1600/almost.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-bcj2ID6-B3g/ThxHCUxPhPI/AAAAAAAAAGQ/XsIznxmCPuw/s320/almost.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5628451739566834930" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9669164-2460242372667350886?l=jentriplett.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jentriplett.blogspot.com/feeds/2460242372667350886/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9669164&amp;postID=2460242372667350886' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9669164/posts/default/2460242372667350886'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9669164/posts/default/2460242372667350886'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jentriplett.blogspot.com/2011/07/wow-what-month.html' title=''/><author><name>Jennifer Triplett</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/102478281216127385889</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//lh6.googleusercontent.com/-769wQl2SR3s/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAAAks/Bygkya7neNw/s512-c/photo.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-1cPnTW6pNHc/ThxG1JEGA9I/AAAAAAAAAGI/LSzt4Hoj2qk/s72-c/close.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9669164.post-4853594300356089680</id><published>2011-07-11T12:40:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2011-07-11T12:41:47.258-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Slurpee Day</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-fkRxd1nh7eU/ThtR7Sk-8iI/AAAAAAAAAGA/-SEHk79bqzo/s1600/slurpee7.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-fkRxd1nh7eU/ThtR7Sk-8iI/AAAAAAAAAGA/-SEHk79bqzo/s320/slurpee7.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5628182238370656802" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7/11/11. A cool day as far as days are concerned. And in honor of 7-eleven... here's  snap shot Amara took of Jim Flynn and I sporting some sick jerseys in the men's Madison last Friday.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9669164-4853594300356089680?l=jentriplett.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jentriplett.blogspot.com/feeds/4853594300356089680/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9669164&amp;postID=4853594300356089680' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9669164/posts/default/4853594300356089680'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9669164/posts/default/4853594300356089680'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jentriplett.blogspot.com/2011/07/slurpee-day.html' title='Slurpee Day'/><author><name>Jennifer Triplett</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/102478281216127385889</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//lh6.googleusercontent.com/-769wQl2SR3s/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAAAks/Bygkya7neNw/s512-c/photo.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-fkRxd1nh7eU/ThtR7Sk-8iI/AAAAAAAAAGA/-SEHk79bqzo/s72-c/slurpee7.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9669164.post-859047594039522089</id><published>2011-07-07T11:22:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-07-07T11:40:02.492-07:00</updated><title type='text'>A different kind of speed.</title><content type='html'>My track bike's chain stays are pristine. I only ride it in dry conditions on the velodrome. It lacks the missing paint chunks from a chain battering the stays. My bike's pedals are fixed to the drive train so that when it's moving, so do the pedals. I pump my tires in excess of 140 psi. I have one gear.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But my, oh my - do I lust over some down hill adventures.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I watch these aerialists fly through the air with bated breath. My jaw drops observing the impossible lines these athletes take. They fly through the air sideways, landing on 35 psi fat tires, punishing dual suspension, rocking their bodies in a whirl of adrenaline, close calls and hairy descents.  They trust their line, their bike and most of all - gravity.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;iframe src="http://player.vimeo.com/video/15169514?title=0&amp;amp;byline=0&amp;amp;portrait=0" frameborder="0" height="225" width="400"&gt;&lt;/iframe&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://vimeo.com/15169514"&gt;Kona Operator - Shimano Saint&lt;/a&gt; from &lt;a href="http://vimeo.com/sweatshop"&gt;Christopher Halcrow&lt;/a&gt; on &lt;a href="http://vimeo.com/"&gt;Vimeo&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I want to try this.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9669164-859047594039522089?l=jentriplett.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jentriplett.blogspot.com/feeds/859047594039522089/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9669164&amp;postID=859047594039522089' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9669164/posts/default/859047594039522089'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9669164/posts/default/859047594039522089'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jentriplett.blogspot.com/2011/07/different-kind-of-speed.html' title='A different kind of speed.'/><author><name>Jennifer Triplett</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/102478281216127385889</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//lh6.googleusercontent.com/-769wQl2SR3s/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAAAks/Bygkya7neNw/s512-c/photo.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9669164.post-6010334019755817336</id><published>2011-07-07T10:40:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-07-07T10:41:07.408-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Dirt awaits...</title><content type='html'>&lt;iframe src="http://player.vimeo.com/video/25968841?byline=0&amp;amp;portrait=0" frameborder="0" height="225" width="400"&gt;&lt;/iframe&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://vimeo.com/25968841"&gt;Kona Magic Link Enduro Sessions&lt;/a&gt; from &lt;a href="http://vimeo.com/sweatshop"&gt;Christopher Halcrow&lt;/a&gt; on &lt;a href="http://vimeo.com"&gt;Vimeo&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9669164-6010334019755817336?l=jentriplett.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jentriplett.blogspot.com/feeds/6010334019755817336/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9669164&amp;postID=6010334019755817336' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9669164/posts/default/6010334019755817336'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9669164/posts/default/6010334019755817336'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jentriplett.blogspot.com/2011/07/dirt-awaits.html' title='Dirt awaits...'/><author><name>Jennifer Triplett</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/102478281216127385889</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//lh6.googleusercontent.com/-769wQl2SR3s/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAAAks/Bygkya7neNw/s512-c/photo.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9669164.post-2797705274049178898</id><published>2011-07-06T13:45:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-07-06T13:48:19.452-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-eUgsN_ndJSs/ThTJ9lJGN9I/AAAAAAAAAF4/UNPhV3vDAlU/s1600/7211.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 137px; height: 320px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-eUgsN_ndJSs/ThTJ9lJGN9I/AAAAAAAAAF4/UNPhV3vDAlU/s320/7211.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5626343894272063442" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I follow several blogs - and discovered the Boring Runner blog by clicking on the "next blog" button at the top of this page. He has quite a following and is constantly adding content. And since I've been traveling/racing a ton I wasn't able to catch up, until today.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The post that had me rolling is linked &lt;a href="http://www.theboringrunner.com/2011/07/runninglife-updates-and-funny-foto.html"&gt;here&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But the photo itself can stand alone, no problem.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9669164-2797705274049178898?l=jentriplett.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jentriplett.blogspot.com/feeds/2797705274049178898/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9669164&amp;postID=2797705274049178898' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9669164/posts/default/2797705274049178898'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9669164/posts/default/2797705274049178898'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jentriplett.blogspot.com/2011/07/i-follow-several-blogs-and-discovered.html' title=''/><author><name>Jennifer Triplett</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/102478281216127385889</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//lh6.googleusercontent.com/-769wQl2SR3s/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAAAks/Bygkya7neNw/s512-c/photo.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-eUgsN_ndJSs/ThTJ9lJGN9I/AAAAAAAAAF4/UNPhV3vDAlU/s72-c/7211.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9669164.post-2480451650664998921</id><published>2011-07-05T13:12:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-07-05T13:28:07.673-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Pedaling for Joy</title><content type='html'>Or should I title this one, the joy of pedaling?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Either way, every time I crank out some revolutions a big fat smile spreads across my face. I am living in the moment, intoxicated with fresh air and endorphins, soaking in experiences and views that life has to offer and Vitamin D. I find so much joy in competition - from mastering the art of cornering, collaborating efforts with teammates, feeling the flow of the group, anticipating the surges and testing the body - and demanding your competitors challenge you and visa versa.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What a weekend. I had my own personal stage race. Track on Friday and Saturday and crits on Sunday and Monday, with a plane transfer.  But my favorite part was racing with my teammates who are so savvy and bad ass. I am honored to deliver them a win yesterday. We all had big fat smiles on our faces. And I hope someone caught us doing a four way hug huddle after the race on Monday.  Summer bike racing with friends? Yes, please!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9669164-2480451650664998921?l=jentriplett.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jentriplett.blogspot.com/feeds/2480451650664998921/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9669164&amp;postID=2480451650664998921' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9669164/posts/default/2480451650664998921'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9669164/posts/default/2480451650664998921'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jentriplett.blogspot.com/2011/07/pedaling-for-joy.html' title='Pedaling for Joy'/><author><name>Jennifer Triplett</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/102478281216127385889</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//lh6.googleusercontent.com/-769wQl2SR3s/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAAAks/Bygkya7neNw/s512-c/photo.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9669164.post-1832215876989184010</id><published>2011-07-05T11:45:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-07-05T11:46:26.151-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Viva Velo!</title><content type='html'>&lt;iframe src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/Jn0FF1KwL4I" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="349" width="560"&gt;&lt;/iframe&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9669164-1832215876989184010?l=jentriplett.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jentriplett.blogspot.com/feeds/1832215876989184010/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9669164&amp;postID=1832215876989184010' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9669164/posts/default/1832215876989184010'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9669164/posts/default/1832215876989184010'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jentriplett.blogspot.com/2011/07/viva-velo.html' title='Viva Velo!'/><author><name>Jennifer Triplett</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/102478281216127385889</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//lh6.googleusercontent.com/-769wQl2SR3s/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAAAks/Bygkya7neNw/s512-c/photo.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://img.youtube.com/vi/Jn0FF1KwL4I/default.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9669164.post-7908129240038844486</id><published>2011-07-02T11:22:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-07-02T11:51:05.446-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Tapping into potential.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;I signed up for the keirin with nothing to lose. I am an endurance rider and the keirin certainly falls into the sprinting realm, if you ask me. I went into the race with no expectations or pressure. The first heat I played the patience game and was close but not close enough. I definitely felt like I had a lot more speed and umph to give. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;In the rep rounds, the top four advance into the semi-finals. I went in with a mission and accomplished it by making a move long before a lap to go and stuck it to the line. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;In the semi-finals I remember thinking, I wonder how many girls make it through to the final? And crossed the finish line in the top four, advancing to the final. I found this out after the race from tela and we both laughed because I had no clue.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Going into the final I was giddy. And relaxed and probably a little annoying. I selected position one from the grab bag of marked golf balls. The gun went off and colleen took the motor and I seeded in to fifth wheel, out of eight. The speed increased, the motor dropped us off at 28mph and all of the girls in front of me moved up track, with the exception of colleen. I didn't hesitate at all and took the pole lane. Dana attacked over the top, Colleen accelerated, I matched her speed and we drilled it. Going into corner three I thought, holy shit! I could win this! But then walker came up and over and I came around Colleen and edged closer to dana - placing me in third. Let me repeat that, THIRD! In the keirin! I think I'm more surprised then anyone!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Next up: the points race. 40 laps with a field of 27. Beth jumped at the gun, setting a wicked fast tempo for the entire race. And letting everyone know we were here to race our bikes this year. Attack after attack snapped the rubber band in my non-existent track legs. I managed a point but had zero left in the tank. I think I placed 8th or so but had a huge smile on my face. Did I mention I got third in the keirin? Ha!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Next up: miss and out and the scratch race. Time to throw down again. Then in the morning I have an early flight home and grab the pooch and my sis as we head up to Bellingham for the state crit. Good times!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9669164-7908129240038844486?l=jentriplett.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jentriplett.blogspot.com/feeds/7908129240038844486/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9669164&amp;postID=7908129240038844486' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9669164/posts/default/7908129240038844486'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9669164/posts/default/7908129240038844486'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jentriplett.blogspot.com/2011/07/tapping-into-potential.html' title='Tapping into potential.'/><author><name>Jennifer Triplett</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/102478281216127385889</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//lh6.googleusercontent.com/-769wQl2SR3s/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAAAks/Bygkya7neNw/s512-c/photo.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9669164.post-6281182522876957029</id><published>2011-07-01T08:31:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-07-01T08:51:54.220-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Good morning from sunny Caaaaaaaaalllllllliiiiiiifronia!</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;I'm sitting in Beth newels fabulous house in Oakland accompanied by a fleet of bikes in three of five rooms in the house, delicious food in the fridge, fresh brewed coffee in the French press. The excitement is building for the first of the west coast summer track camps and reconnecting with old friends. And I slept 9 hours straight. Yes!!!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;On tap for the weekend: tessarosa velodrome challenge. 25 or so ladies are signed up for the endurance events. Yours truly will be contesting the keirin, points, scratch and miss and out. This is the fifth year running of the event and it's crazy to see old footage from those races - and realize how much accumulated knowledge and muscle memory has developed since then, not to mention hair styles and bike upgrades.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Racing doesn't start until this evening so the morning roller ride is first priority, eating, lounging, sleeping, surfing, you know- the important things. I'm building up my energy for some cheetah action tonight. Focus, speed, and as Anita would say, going for the jugular.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9669164-6281182522876957029?l=jentriplett.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jentriplett.blogspot.com/feeds/6281182522876957029/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9669164&amp;postID=6281182522876957029' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9669164/posts/default/6281182522876957029'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9669164/posts/default/6281182522876957029'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jentriplett.blogspot.com/2011/07/good-morning-from-sunny.html' title='Good morning from sunny Caaaaaaaaalllllllliiiiiiifronia!'/><author><name>Jennifer Triplett</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/102478281216127385889</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//lh6.googleusercontent.com/-769wQl2SR3s/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAAAks/Bygkya7neNw/s512-c/photo.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9669164.post-5336957601207839909</id><published>2011-06-30T11:24:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-06-30T12:00:08.020-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Cheetah.</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-EksuZkmcDYs/TgzGxVdGXXI/AAAAAAAAAFw/kwgjMipdEho/s1600/cheetah_492_600x450.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-EksuZkmcDYs/TgzGxVdGXXI/AAAAAAAAAFw/kwgjMipdEho/s320/cheetah_492_600x450.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5624088585553993074" border="0" /&gt;&lt;span class="BabyNameText"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cheetah's medicine includes - speed and focus, brotherhood, elusiveness, ability to focus intently on something for a short period of time, swiftness, self-esteem, accelerating time, keenness of sight&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Different to other felines, who stalk, then swiftly jump on their prey for the kill, cheetahs, the fastest animals alive, run down their prey.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The lesson to be learned here, the inspiration, is to fulfil our goals with speed and focus. When we feel stuck, cheetah energy can help us spring into motion. If we are moving with great speed but with little direction, cheetah medicine can help us to keep our eyes on our goals, to focus, and to find the most direct way of achieving them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes we must carefully consider all aspects of a plan to reach a goal. At other times, it may be necessary to be flexible and adaptable in rehashing plans. However, sometimes the most important thing to do is to act with both speed and focus. The goal is almost reached, but continually putting something off, or lack of clarity keeps one from accomplishing it. It is at times like this that cheetah medicine is extremely valuable.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There is more wisdom to be taken from the cheetah's actions - there are those who want to accomplish their goals but who may take on too many goals at one time. Though the cheetah is able to reach speeds of up to 63miles per hour, it can only maintain this incredible speed for a short period of time. Afterward, it must rest for around 15 minutes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The cheetah period of rest teaches us that intense activity should always be followed by a time of rest, relaxation, and contemplation.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(Source: http://www.shamanicjourney.com/)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9669164-5336957601207839909?l=jentriplett.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jentriplett.blogspot.com/feeds/5336957601207839909/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9669164&amp;postID=5336957601207839909' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9669164/posts/default/5336957601207839909'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9669164/posts/default/5336957601207839909'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jentriplett.blogspot.com/2011/06/blog-post_30.html' title='The Cheetah.'/><author><name>Jennifer Triplett</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/102478281216127385889</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//lh6.googleusercontent.com/-769wQl2SR3s/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAAAks/Bygkya7neNw/s512-c/photo.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-EksuZkmcDYs/TgzGxVdGXXI/AAAAAAAAAFw/kwgjMipdEho/s72-c/cheetah_492_600x450.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9669164.post-2194102574304604075</id><published>2011-06-29T18:29:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-06-29T18:30:23.638-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Physical!</title><content type='html'>What the pint?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;iframe src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/vWz9VN40nCA" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="349" width="425"&gt;&lt;/iframe&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sorry - it just got stuck in my head and I thought some of you might appreciate that one too...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9669164-2194102574304604075?l=jentriplett.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jentriplett.blogspot.com/feeds/2194102574304604075/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9669164&amp;postID=2194102574304604075' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9669164/posts/default/2194102574304604075'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9669164/posts/default/2194102574304604075'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jentriplett.blogspot.com/2011/06/physical.html' title='Physical!'/><author><name>Jennifer Triplett</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/102478281216127385889</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//lh6.googleusercontent.com/-769wQl2SR3s/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAAAks/Bygkya7neNw/s512-c/photo.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://img.youtube.com/vi/vWz9VN40nCA/default.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9669164.post-5956549209355502601</id><published>2011-06-28T11:20:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-06-28T11:53:47.988-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Letting go</title><content type='html'>I started meditating about a month ago. I take ten minutes out of the day - using a timer on my phone to make sure I take a full time - and visualize myself standing on top of the South Early Winter spire, overlooking the snow capped mountains of the Cascades. The serenity and senses I visit each mediation help center me in so many ways. I feel the gentle breeze on my skin, the accomplishment of getting to the top of a mountain by human power. I feel content, loved, happy with my mind and body at ease.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I don't take the time things start to unravel. Little stuff starts to invade my peacefulness. The overgrown yard, things that should be put away, the bikes in the living room, the chores, etc. And as soon as I realize I've traveled down that path, I stop. I break out my phone, set my timer and I climb the spire and sit at the top - absorbing, observing, and just being.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-AOFmApj2TS8/TgoiwwymWlI/AAAAAAAAAFo/1cqohHSz0Pc/s1600/P1010245.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="float: left; margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-AOFmApj2TS8/TgoiwwymWlI/AAAAAAAAAFo/1cqohHSz0Pc/s320/P1010245.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5623345305851681362" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;A few days ago, for the first time, I had an unexpected visitor. Ryan joined me there. I know this sounds crazy, but I swear to God he was there. I felt him and heard his voice. It made me cry - but this time not from sadness and grief but from the realization how lucky I am to have someone who touched me so much. He's very much a part of me - and I take strength knowing he's there when I need him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Three years is flying by.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9669164-5956549209355502601?l=jentriplett.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jentriplett.blogspot.com/feeds/5956549209355502601/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9669164&amp;postID=5956549209355502601' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9669164/posts/default/5956549209355502601'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9669164/posts/default/5956549209355502601'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jentriplett.blogspot.com/2011/06/letting-go.html' title='Letting go'/><author><name>Jennifer Triplett</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/102478281216127385889</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//lh6.googleusercontent.com/-769wQl2SR3s/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAAAks/Bygkya7neNw/s512-c/photo.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-AOFmApj2TS8/TgoiwwymWlI/AAAAAAAAAFo/1cqohHSz0Pc/s72-c/P1010245.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9669164.post-5159976870670112029</id><published>2011-06-26T05:48:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-06-26T05:56:04.384-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>It is the last day here in Wisconsin. My bag is partially packed and a full day of travel and racing awaits. The past 2 weeks have been filled with a ton of experiences and a lot of laughter. After our morning spin, we'll get a few hours of down time before departing for Madison to race the last crit of the Tour of America's Dairyland series.  Then we'll beat feat to the airport in Milwaukee to catch our 9 pm flights. A tight squeeze as our race is at 3:30-4:30 - but we should be able to make it. Then I get to sleep in my own bed! And make peace with my little dog dog dog.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9669164-5159976870670112029?l=jentriplett.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jentriplett.blogspot.com/feeds/5159976870670112029/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9669164&amp;postID=5159976870670112029' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9669164/posts/default/5159976870670112029'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9669164/posts/default/5159976870670112029'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jentriplett.blogspot.com/2011/06/it-is-last-day-here-in-wisconsin.html' title=''/><author><name>Jennifer Triplett</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/102478281216127385889</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//lh6.googleusercontent.com/-769wQl2SR3s/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAAAks/Bygkya7neNw/s512-c/photo.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9669164.post-925230874848185077</id><published>2011-06-25T10:06:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2011-06-25T10:10:27.272-07:00</updated><title type='text'>She lives! She breathes!</title><content type='html'>I am still alive! And I'm still in Wisconsin. A total of 10 race days (with two more to come) since June 10th, is certainly taking its toll on all extra brain power.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Two more crits to go (Downer's Crit and Madison) and then I get to sleep in my own bed for four nights before packing up the track bike and racing in San Jose....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Updates to come, I promise!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/9669164-925230874848185077?l=jentriplett.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://jentriplett.blogspot.com/feeds/925230874848185077/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=9669164&amp;postID=925230874848185077' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9669164/posts/default/925230874848185077'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/9669164/posts/default/925230874848185077'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://jentriplett.blogspot.com/2011/06/she-lives-she-breathes.html' title='She lives! She breathes!'/><author><name>Jennifer Triplett</name><uri>https://profiles.google.com/102478281216127385889</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='32' src='//lh6.googleusercontent.com/-769wQl2SR3s/AAAAAAAAAAI/AAAAAAAAAks/Bygkya7neNw/s512-c/photo.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
