It’s hard enough for millions of people to drag themselves out of bed and head to the gym for 30 minutes of half-ass elliptical machine cardio while flipping through a magazine, let alone have the mental drive and determination to train for a race, whether it be a 5K, a marathon, or an Ironman. Team Hoyt goes one step further — Dick Hoyt has worked twice as hard as virtually anyone you know. He’s swam 2.4 miles while towing his son. He’s hauled about 350 total lbs up steep hills on a bike. He’s run the Boston Marathon over 26 times, and his finish time pushing another human being in a wheelchair is still way better than what most of you will ever hope to run in your lifetime.

Can you imagine what Dick Hoyt’s race time would be if he were a team of one? The man is nearly 70 years old, and he’s FAST. He and his son are faster than I am and probably will ever be. I can only imagine what his full potential is when he’s not towing or pushing his son. But Dick is so unselfish and so committed to racing as a team that we’ll probably never know what his marathon time would be if he ran by himself, or what the Ironman clock would read as he crossed the finish line solo. And I bet he wouldn’t have it any other way.

Team Hoyt’s unselfishness and commitment to themselves as athletes and to others with disabilities should light that fire under your ass. You have no excuse. If you’re overweight and bemoan the fact that everyone else seems to lose lbs except you, you have no excuse. If you’ve been planning on running your first 5K but have been putting it off, you have no excuse. If you’re striving to hit a PR for your next 70.3 race but are watching TV and eating jellybeans instead of swimming, you have no excuse. Know why? Because Team Hoyt has plenty of built-in excuses, and they don’t let that drag them down. They overcome their disadvantages, sign up for those races, and kick the asses of most able-bodied, young, healthy people racing among them.

So what’s your excuse? You don’t have one. Get off your ass and work towards achieving your goal, and when you do, thank Team Hoyt for inspiring you to believe in yourself and prove to yourself that you’re strong and determined.

Once we were both on the mend Jason and I were all “Time to get serious, yo.” I was all geared up to go to Tuesday’s evening track practice and make my triumphant return (cue the trumpets). Jason went in the morning and gave me the following feedback:

• It was freakin’ cold
• It was really freakin’ cold
• A stretch of the track was covered in ice, making running quite treacherous
• Seriously, it was cold. Jason had to borrow tiny Tracy’s gloves so his fingers wouldn’t freeze off. I’m pretty sure the gloves are now stretched beyond repair.

I had miserable expectations for the evening track, but I didn’t have a chance to experience how cold and icy it was going to be–the extremely low temperatures prompted Teresa to cancel track. (Postpone the trumpets.)

Attempt #2 at our Triumphant Return was on Thursday. Jason and I signed up for an early morning interval cycling class and dry land swim conditioning. We set our alarm for 6 am and got everything ready the night before. At 5:40 am we were both awakened to the loudest fricking clap of thunder imaginable. We both sprang out of bed and uttered a simultaneous “Whoa.” He got up and looked out the window but saw nothing. We figured it was going to start raining and would probably freeze and make the roads slick. After climbing back into bed we heard another huge clap of thunder and anticipated the sound of falling rain next…but instead it was silent. Hmm…

A minute later my phone vibrated. It was Teresa texting me to say that it was snowing like crazy over in West Seattle so she was canceling classes. I said, “That’s weird, how is it snowing in West Seattle but not here?” Jason’s response: “Holy crap!” I looked out the window and saw blurs of white. In the 5 minutes between our first glimpse out the window and checking my phone, it had started snowing buckets. It was as if the sky farted and started pooping out snow.

We got a crapload of snow on Thursday and couldn’t work out because the Y closed and because we couldn’t run anywhere without rolling an ankle or slipping and cracking our heads open (which I’ll fully admit is something I’m prone to doing even when the weather is perfect). Aside from a trip to the grocery store, Jason and I were pretty much snowed in. Of course, having a snow day in Seattle is a built-in excuse to not work at the office, so my coworkers canceled work and all stayed home. I happily did the same.

On Friday morning my neighborhood was quiet and blanketed in snow:

The streets were empty save for two buses abandoned on Madison. The office was canceled again, so I stayed home and totally rocked the fireplace/hot chocolate/pajama pants/slippers combo. In fact, I got so comfy that I forgot to get off my ass and exercise. Silly me…

Jason and I planned on going for a run on Saturday but had afternoon plans to to see Gonzaga play UConn at the Battle in Seattle. We assured ourselves that “after the game is over we’ll go for a run.” Our optimism for both Gonzaga and for exercising lasted until the end of overtime when both the Zags lost and we were greeted with more snow flurries upon exiting Key Arena. A gruelingly slow hour later, we were finally home, our plans to run crushed under several inches of snow. The Y was closed, so we couldn’t swim or do an indoor workout, either. We managed to drown our sorrows with Mexican food and a few bottles of wine. “Tomorrow we’ll work out…”

Well, Sunday came. Once again the workout weather was…less than favorable.

The bush next to our front porch:

The steps leading up to our garage:

This is about as far as I can get my patio door to open:

Our bamboo is smothered under the weight of the snow:

And yes, it’s still snowing:

Jason and I trudged to Safeway to get stuff for dinner. We decided that a prime rib roast sounded nice and wintry, so we bought one, prepped it, and popped it in the oven. Since we both felt like fat, lethargic turds, we pulled our bikes out and decided to do an indoor ride. Triumphant return successful!

Er, kinda. The cooking roast heated up the entire downstairs, and my whole ride was choked with hot, roasted meat smell. I ended up feeling queasy and stopped after 30 minutes. The fact that I hadn’t worked out in two weeks didn’t help with my stamina, either. My triumphant return was pretty craptastic, but at least 30 minutes is better than yet another evening sitting on my ass, right? (The roast was fantastic, by the way. Way to reward your triumphant return with delicious meat and red wine, Rebecca!)

Okay, tomorrow snow be damned — I’m going to strap some tennis rackets to my feet and walk over to the Y for some swimming and weight lifting. If they’re closed (again) I’ll force myself to do another indoor ride (minus cooked beef stench) and will do sit ups and strength training until my limbs feel like noodles. I will push it to the limit (lim-mit!) and get back on track, damn it.

Or maybe I’ll open some more wine, prop up my feet, and queue up a movie…could go either way. (Who am I kidding, I know which way it’ll go…)