Ready, Get Set......WAIT

I have been a little behind on the updates, but some big things have happened.

1) I am on emergency leave from work
2) My mother-in-law, Julie, is back in town
3) The double-pumper breast pump is assembled and fully functional
4) Andrea, Julie, and I have competed the safety video on "The Baby Carrier" Sling
5) The house is immaculate
6) Andrea keeps cleaning . . . . . walking, taking baths, and doing funny Yoga dances.
7) Repeat number six, and add doing laundry incessantly.

The only thing left is the baby's arrival. So what is he waiting on?

We are so blessed to have everything in place. She is dilated and has had contractions, just not consistent enough to go to the hospital yet. It is a weird position to be in. I don't think I have been this still, but restless for a long time. If you've been married, this feeling is a lot like those moments before your own wedding ceremony begins; you realize a huge change in your life is about to occur, and it just sort of happens, but the replay and realization take a while to sink in.

Another similar weird feeling was at Airborne school while I was in the Army. After two long hot weeks, I was finally the number-one guy on the plane in-line to jump; the jumpmaster looked me in the eye, took a step forward and pointed at me and said the infamous words: "Stand.in.the.Door." I was 19-years old, standing in the open door of a C-130, 1300 feet above the hot, sandy grass along the Georgia-Alabama line. It didn't make sense, but I was there, and it was something I always wanted to do.
I can still remember rocking back and forth in the turbulence, looking straight ahead, then looking down at trees while my hands clasped the riveted exterior of the airplane's door frame. I had one foot forward, toes just inches over the edge of the floorboard; deafening sounds of rushing hot air, turbine engines, and grinding propellers. After what seemed like a minute, the green light illuminated followed by "GO!!!" from the jumpmaster, and the confirming kick on my butt (aka the "Kiwi" ejection) . I jumped. As my body fell and flew backwards, my feet rotated upward, and I could see the horizon while looking over my toes. I was horizontal to the ground, but looking up. And through the maelstrom, I annunciated my counts "One Thousand . . . Two Thousand. . . ." and finished with a "check canopy"; suddenly, it was quiet. My chute spun around, and I was hanging quietly and peacefully 1000 feet above the ground. I saw the C-130 flying away quietly dropping the rest of my fellow soldiers. It was an amazing sight.
After the initial rush, it was time to prepare for the landing. Phew, the chute had opened, I just needed to land without breaking my legs. I looked to the horizon, and squeezed my feet and knees together as HARD as I could and waited, and waited, and waited. Don't look down! Finally. As I felt the impact of the hard Alabama clay, I leaned with the drift, tilted my pelvis, and rotated my trunk away from the fall. Once I stopped rolling, I instantly hit the disconnect on my parachute harness, and just laid there shaking uncontrollably. One jump down, four to go.

Having our first baby and going to Hawaii to race the Ironman. Both are real exciting. We are so fortunate to have the opportunity.

With regards to training: In between Andrea's contractions, I have managed a few runs, some weight lifting and swimming too. It hasn't been really training - It has been more quelling my anxiety and helping pass the time until we go to the hospital - hopefully tonight.

Thanks for reading.

KonaSpeed.