Me [modeling a skirt in a store fitting room]: Do I look like a whore in this skirt?
(I need/want a new skirt to replace my ankle-length, sits-on-my-natural-waist skirt I got in college)
Craig: Mishele, you're in a knee length jean skirt.
Me: So no?
Craig: Sigh.
Monday, July 30, 2007
Friday, July 27, 2007
Put your hands where I can see them—hanging on the wrong side of the law
Around 1 AM this morning Craig and I got the last load of stuff from our old apartment. Included in the last load, of course, were the odds and ends that refused to be packed—our welcome mat, the odd picture, canvas grocery bags, and kitties. Our cats do not like stuff slowly disappearing from their home, but even more than that they loathe riding in the car. Within seconds of starting the engine I was listening to a chorus of meows and whimpers while surrounded by weird crap from our apartment. In all this commotion, I forgot to turn on my headlights while I was in the brightly lit parking garage; fortunately, Craig had my back and said something to me as I pulled out onto the street. I turned them on, cruised up to a red light, and turned right onto an empty San Felipe.
Seconds later there’s a cop car behind me with his lights on. What could I possibly have done wrong already? Did I seem drunk? Is it illegal to drive with two cats? Did I have a tail light out? My mind flashed to a time my mom got a ticket for driving without her lights on, which was silly--she’d turned out of a parking lot and 10 yards later was pulled over on a road so bright that headlights wouldn’t have made a difference. But I was only without my lights through a private driveway--isn’t that okay?
I pulled over (and in true kitty fashion, the cats meowed even louder at having stopped) and started freaking out. Before this I’d been pulled over 3 times: once for no reason by some meanie who made me start crying after he left, once for running a red light by a nice guy who let me go because I seemed really scared and he thought that was funny, and once for speeding by some dude just doing his job... I guess. I’m 1 for 3 with nice cops. The thing is, I don’t need a cop to be nice and let me off the hook for breaking the law; when I run red lights, I should be ticketed. When I speed, I guess I should be ticketed as well (I’m not a huge fan of speed limits, especially since I don’t drive very fast-- my truck is incapable of it). All I want from a cop-MisheleK interaction is some bleeping respect. I am not used to being treated like trash in my everyday life; for the most part folks are nice to me at the gas station and the bank, at work and at the gym. I’m a human. Others are humans. It all works out nicely. That is what I want from a police officer--basic human dignity. I realize I can’t have it because life is what it is, but a girl can dream.
So I pulled over and dude comes over to my open window. “What’d I do wrong?” I asked.
“Well, if you want to be really nit-picky, you didn’t come to a complete stop at that red light. You should have stopped all the way instead of just rolling through.”
I was slightly annoyed since I was as close to being stopped as you can be without completely stopping--and the road was a ghost town. Still, I brightened since the odds of a cop ticketing for something he refers to as “nit-picky” were in my favor.
There were howling cats in the background. “You moving?” he asks, flashing his torch through my cab.
“Yup.”
“Well, I pulled you over because you pulled out of the garage without your lights on--” (frick!) “--and there have been a series of car thefts in the area. Would you mind showing me your license and proof of insurance?”
Would I mind? Would I mind? Heck no I don’t mind! Thanks for asking! Whew! My shaky hands flew to get the documents. As I handed them over I asked him if I looked suspicious. He shrugged.
After checking my stuff he let me go and I called back to him that I’d be sure to stop at that corner from now on (especially since I’m never going back to it). I drove on to catch up with Craig, who’d waited for me, and thought of how crazy it was he asked if I would mind giving him proof I wasn’t stealing my own car.
Now I'm batting .500... and I’ll take it.
Seconds later there’s a cop car behind me with his lights on. What could I possibly have done wrong already? Did I seem drunk? Is it illegal to drive with two cats? Did I have a tail light out? My mind flashed to a time my mom got a ticket for driving without her lights on, which was silly--she’d turned out of a parking lot and 10 yards later was pulled over on a road so bright that headlights wouldn’t have made a difference. But I was only without my lights through a private driveway--isn’t that okay?
I pulled over (and in true kitty fashion, the cats meowed even louder at having stopped) and started freaking out. Before this I’d been pulled over 3 times: once for no reason by some meanie who made me start crying after he left, once for running a red light by a nice guy who let me go because I seemed really scared and he thought that was funny, and once for speeding by some dude just doing his job... I guess. I’m 1 for 3 with nice cops. The thing is, I don’t need a cop to be nice and let me off the hook for breaking the law; when I run red lights, I should be ticketed. When I speed, I guess I should be ticketed as well (I’m not a huge fan of speed limits, especially since I don’t drive very fast-- my truck is incapable of it). All I want from a cop-MisheleK interaction is some bleeping respect. I am not used to being treated like trash in my everyday life; for the most part folks are nice to me at the gas station and the bank, at work and at the gym. I’m a human. Others are humans. It all works out nicely. That is what I want from a police officer--basic human dignity. I realize I can’t have it because life is what it is, but a girl can dream.
So I pulled over and dude comes over to my open window. “What’d I do wrong?” I asked.
“Well, if you want to be really nit-picky, you didn’t come to a complete stop at that red light. You should have stopped all the way instead of just rolling through.”
I was slightly annoyed since I was as close to being stopped as you can be without completely stopping--and the road was a ghost town. Still, I brightened since the odds of a cop ticketing for something he refers to as “nit-picky” were in my favor.
There were howling cats in the background. “You moving?” he asks, flashing his torch through my cab.
“Yup.”
“Well, I pulled you over because you pulled out of the garage without your lights on--” (frick!) “--and there have been a series of car thefts in the area. Would you mind showing me your license and proof of insurance?”
Would I mind? Would I mind? Heck no I don’t mind! Thanks for asking! Whew! My shaky hands flew to get the documents. As I handed them over I asked him if I looked suspicious. He shrugged.
After checking my stuff he let me go and I called back to him that I’d be sure to stop at that corner from now on (especially since I’m never going back to it). I drove on to catch up with Craig, who’d waited for me, and thought of how crazy it was he asked if I would mind giving him proof I wasn’t stealing my own car.
Now I'm batting .500... and I’ll take it.
Wednesday, July 25, 2007
Du it, man: Webster Duathlon #3 Race Review
This was my first duathlon: a 2 mile run, 12 mile flat bike, and a 2 mile run. I won the entry back in February and have been looking forward to this race ever since. I've also been mentally preparing to get my butt handed to me; duathlons aren't as popular as tris, but the folks who do them are way faster. After racing I decided that duathlon folks are simply tougher-- even the sprint du's are not for the faint of heart.
Anyway, Craig came with me to this race. He's not a fan of idiotic tri cheering and I'm not a fan of someone coming along with me who doesn't race, so it was his first non-IM race. I thought he'd like it better because du's are supposed to be different-- most folks don't bring a cheering squad and the races are pretty small. We showed up about an hour before the start, got my packet, put my bike in transition, and just hung out. I thought there seemed to be more people than I'd expected, and there were; this was the biggest du of the series with 160 folks coming out. Crap! How was I supposed to place in my age group if more people showed up?!
After a .5 mile jog warmup and some stretching I headed to the line. Dude in charge told us about the course-- out-and-back run, two loop bike, and out-and-back run-- then just said "go" and started us off. It doesn’t get more low-key than that I guess!
Run 1: My goal was to run 8:30-8:45 miles. Starting out going fast is hard! Swimming is a way easier way to start a race. I was ready to start walking within 3 minutes, but naturally didn't. A few folks passed me on the way out, but for the most part it appeared I started in the right part of the pack. I also saw a few HRTCers (naturally ahead of me), so that was nice. At the turnaround I grabbed some water and went to pass some guy about my age. He refused to let me pass him, so I was forced to run with him the entire mile back to T1. Men-- such jerks! Anyway, I soon forgot him when I got to T1-- I've never been so happy to get on the bike!
Run 1 time: 16:41 (8:21 pace)
Run 1 pic: Do I look happy?
T1: My transitions were more about fashion: T1 was headband to bike helmet, and T2 would be bike helmet to hat. It's important to look your best at every opportunity. Anyway, I grabbed another water and walked to my bike. I was spent after the run and needed a rest. Still, I owned T1 because I switched my pedals (a nice lend from a friend also racing) to cages so I could wear my running shoes the whole time; I was in and out in 0:37. Woo!
The bike: two loops of fun. My goal was again 19 mph pace. On the way out we had a tailwind, and the way back was naturally a headwind. I passed a surprising number of people, so that was cool. I also got passed by a few, maybe about 5-- some who'd passed me on the run and would again pass me on the second run, but whose transitions were slow on account of the shoe issue. Suckers! Anyway, the bike was pretty, you know, bike-like. The only problem was my tummy was bothering me a lot so I couldn't eat or drink anything after about 15 minutes. My stomach has been going haywire recently (it's where I store my stress-- lots of room around there!), so I don't want to blame it on my new Accelerade nutrition plan. Maybe I had too much Accelerade before the race? Perhaps my race breakfast is incompatible with it? Anything is possible. The thing is I've never had Accelerade except for post-workout recovery/hydration until this race; more experimentation is definitely needed. That's about it for the bike except that I kept going back and forth with some stupid 14 year old kid. He was annoying the crap out of me because the first time I passed him he was drafting off his dad. Then 3 minutes later he and his dad completely blew by me-- what the crap? I caught the kid again on the second loop, and near the end he passed me... and then kept looking behind him to see where I was, swerving into the middle of the lane. I was annoyed and didn't want to get passed on the bike by some chump kid, so I surged on the street before T2 to beat him. A note to all you 14 year olds out there: don’t f*ck with me. (See? Edited for children!)
Bike pace: 18.6 mph Better than the week before, especially since I wasn't in cycling shoes/clips. Woo!
Bike pic: Nice pedals newbie!
T2: I took off my helmet and put on a hat. Nice, huh? :) Out in 0:27.
Run 2: My goal was +20 sec of run 1 pace, so 8:50-9:05 pace. Oof! Can I walk this? Of course the second run was worse than the first. I saw Lisa, cage pedal lender, at the half mile point and she told me they had cold towels at the turnaround. Booya! My goal at this point in the race was to come in under 1:15 (I came out of T2 at 56:xx) and pass three people. By the turnaround I'd caught two, but I ran a 9:14 mile. Crap! I had to get going to make my goal! After a towel and yet another water (don't judge-- it's hot here) I busted my hiney as much as I could to get in by 1:14:something, passing a third guy in the process. My last mile was 8:57, enough to get me in at 1:14:41, 1:14:38 watch time. Celebration!
Run 2 time: 18:11 (9:06 pace)
Run 2 pic: I'm about 400m from finishing, so I eeked out a solitary smile. Courageous I know.
Afterward there were breakfast tacos, beer, soda, and bananas-- a decent spread! I could only handle water a banana, and a diet Coke. Craig and I hung around with some club members, waiting for results. Normally, there's one girl in my age group at these races. She runs sub-7 minute miles both times (or close to it) and bikes at 20+ mph. Of course I had no chance of winning my age group while she was breathing, but 2nd of 2 was good enough for me-- that was my plan. Well, we were in for a huge surprise when results were posted: there were 6 girls in my age group. Dammit!
And at the top of that list: MisheleK. I won my age group and there were actually other girls in it! Sweet! I won a pint glass and a 700 tube, which I gave to Lisa (who came in second in her AG) since I ride 650s and her gracious pedals lend shaved some serious time.
I will definitely start doing dus-- I like tough stuff, and I really want to get better at these. The atmosphere is also a little more my style, so that's cool. I realize now that +20 seconds for the second run is very unrealistic; still, I want to get my run 1 time down a little faster. Maybe a longer warmup would help? I'll try that next time. And that nutrition issue I need to get ironed out before my last tri of the year: River Cities next weekend.
One other slightly related thing I've noticed in my past two races-- there are "real" triathletes at sprints, perhaps more real than ironmen. They're the folks who race, year in and year out, train every week, each season. It's not that one IM they've done that defines them because they're more than that after a decade of races and, perhaps more importantly, gallons of post-race beers. They don't get their panties in a twist over tri technology, and they don't buy a new bike every other year. They're there to race, to live the life. I want to be like that. But it's not going long that can do it-- it's local races, olys and sprints and HIMs, ties to a real racing community instead of a faceless racing giant running faraway events. The truth is that it's excruciating to go fast for any length of time-- I think it's harder than going steady for an IM. I want to do more sprints next year, even with Louisville looming, because they test your mettle in ways a day-long race simply cannot. They make you real. Besides, I know I've got the mental hardware to go long-- but can I go hard? I'm starting to wonder. And I'm going to find out.
Anyway, Craig came with me to this race. He's not a fan of idiotic tri cheering and I'm not a fan of someone coming along with me who doesn't race, so it was his first non-IM race. I thought he'd like it better because du's are supposed to be different-- most folks don't bring a cheering squad and the races are pretty small. We showed up about an hour before the start, got my packet, put my bike in transition, and just hung out. I thought there seemed to be more people than I'd expected, and there were; this was the biggest du of the series with 160 folks coming out. Crap! How was I supposed to place in my age group if more people showed up?!
After a .5 mile jog warmup and some stretching I headed to the line. Dude in charge told us about the course-- out-and-back run, two loop bike, and out-and-back run-- then just said "go" and started us off. It doesn’t get more low-key than that I guess!
Run 1: My goal was to run 8:30-8:45 miles. Starting out going fast is hard! Swimming is a way easier way to start a race. I was ready to start walking within 3 minutes, but naturally didn't. A few folks passed me on the way out, but for the most part it appeared I started in the right part of the pack. I also saw a few HRTCers (naturally ahead of me), so that was nice. At the turnaround I grabbed some water and went to pass some guy about my age. He refused to let me pass him, so I was forced to run with him the entire mile back to T1. Men-- such jerks! Anyway, I soon forgot him when I got to T1-- I've never been so happy to get on the bike!
Run 1 time: 16:41 (8:21 pace)
Run 1 pic: Do I look happy?
T1: My transitions were more about fashion: T1 was headband to bike helmet, and T2 would be bike helmet to hat. It's important to look your best at every opportunity. Anyway, I grabbed another water and walked to my bike. I was spent after the run and needed a rest. Still, I owned T1 because I switched my pedals (a nice lend from a friend also racing) to cages so I could wear my running shoes the whole time; I was in and out in 0:37. Woo!
The bike: two loops of fun. My goal was again 19 mph pace. On the way out we had a tailwind, and the way back was naturally a headwind. I passed a surprising number of people, so that was cool. I also got passed by a few, maybe about 5-- some who'd passed me on the run and would again pass me on the second run, but whose transitions were slow on account of the shoe issue. Suckers! Anyway, the bike was pretty, you know, bike-like. The only problem was my tummy was bothering me a lot so I couldn't eat or drink anything after about 15 minutes. My stomach has been going haywire recently (it's where I store my stress-- lots of room around there!), so I don't want to blame it on my new Accelerade nutrition plan. Maybe I had too much Accelerade before the race? Perhaps my race breakfast is incompatible with it? Anything is possible. The thing is I've never had Accelerade except for post-workout recovery/hydration until this race; more experimentation is definitely needed. That's about it for the bike except that I kept going back and forth with some stupid 14 year old kid. He was annoying the crap out of me because the first time I passed him he was drafting off his dad. Then 3 minutes later he and his dad completely blew by me-- what the crap? I caught the kid again on the second loop, and near the end he passed me... and then kept looking behind him to see where I was, swerving into the middle of the lane. I was annoyed and didn't want to get passed on the bike by some chump kid, so I surged on the street before T2 to beat him. A note to all you 14 year olds out there: don’t f*ck with me. (See? Edited for children!)
Bike pace: 18.6 mph Better than the week before, especially since I wasn't in cycling shoes/clips. Woo!
Bike pic: Nice pedals newbie!
T2: I took off my helmet and put on a hat. Nice, huh? :) Out in 0:27.
Run 2: My goal was +20 sec of run 1 pace, so 8:50-9:05 pace. Oof! Can I walk this? Of course the second run was worse than the first. I saw Lisa, cage pedal lender, at the half mile point and she told me they had cold towels at the turnaround. Booya! My goal at this point in the race was to come in under 1:15 (I came out of T2 at 56:xx) and pass three people. By the turnaround I'd caught two, but I ran a 9:14 mile. Crap! I had to get going to make my goal! After a towel and yet another water (don't judge-- it's hot here) I busted my hiney as much as I could to get in by 1:14:something, passing a third guy in the process. My last mile was 8:57, enough to get me in at 1:14:41, 1:14:38 watch time. Celebration!
Run 2 time: 18:11 (9:06 pace)
Run 2 pic: I'm about 400m from finishing, so I eeked out a solitary smile. Courageous I know.
Afterward there were breakfast tacos, beer, soda, and bananas-- a decent spread! I could only handle water a banana, and a diet Coke. Craig and I hung around with some club members, waiting for results. Normally, there's one girl in my age group at these races. She runs sub-7 minute miles both times (or close to it) and bikes at 20+ mph. Of course I had no chance of winning my age group while she was breathing, but 2nd of 2 was good enough for me-- that was my plan. Well, we were in for a huge surprise when results were posted: there were 6 girls in my age group. Dammit!
And at the top of that list: MisheleK. I won my age group and there were actually other girls in it! Sweet! I won a pint glass and a 700 tube, which I gave to Lisa (who came in second in her AG) since I ride 650s and her gracious pedals lend shaved some serious time.
I will definitely start doing dus-- I like tough stuff, and I really want to get better at these. The atmosphere is also a little more my style, so that's cool. I realize now that +20 seconds for the second run is very unrealistic; still, I want to get my run 1 time down a little faster. Maybe a longer warmup would help? I'll try that next time. And that nutrition issue I need to get ironed out before my last tri of the year: River Cities next weekend.
One other slightly related thing I've noticed in my past two races-- there are "real" triathletes at sprints, perhaps more real than ironmen. They're the folks who race, year in and year out, train every week, each season. It's not that one IM they've done that defines them because they're more than that after a decade of races and, perhaps more importantly, gallons of post-race beers. They don't get their panties in a twist over tri technology, and they don't buy a new bike every other year. They're there to race, to live the life. I want to be like that. But it's not going long that can do it-- it's local races, olys and sprints and HIMs, ties to a real racing community instead of a faceless racing giant running faraway events. The truth is that it's excruciating to go fast for any length of time-- I think it's harder than going steady for an IM. I want to do more sprints next year, even with Louisville looming, because they test your mettle in ways a day-long race simply cannot. They make you real. Besides, I know I've got the mental hardware to go long-- but can I go hard? I'm starting to wonder. And I'm going to find out.
Tuesday, July 24, 2007
I had three beers!: Jeff and Brede's Intergalactic Tri Race Review
This is two weeks old. My bad. Anyway, J&B's is a sprint run by my tri club: 300m pool swim, 12 mile flat (and fast?) bike, and a 3 mile run. Last year I volunteered--fun, but I wanted to get in there and give it a go this year. It's a sprint, so the race report should be slim...
The swim-- I seeded myself at around a 4:42. I was nervous because I've all but given up swimming this summer, especially because my last pool swim I caught two people, and I didn't want to be getting caught in this race since it sucketh. I needn't have worried though: apparently everyone lied on their swims because I did a very painful 4:59 (probably a 4:49 if you just include the swim and not climbing out and getting across the mat). No one caught me and I caught no one. Yesss!
And here is the best race pic ever. Oooh, and here's the second best ever. Who takes pictures of people while they're getting out of the pool??
Transition-- sucked because I thought I had to move my stuff to the other side of the rack to avoid a penalty. Everyone knows that you have to have your transition towel on the side of your bike touching the ground. But did you know that you have to have the down side of your bike on the same side as the rack number? Me neither! In fact, I don't think anyone really knew that til the head official said something before the race and after transition was closed. However, he also said it is the passing rider's responsibility to get out of the draft zone, which isn't true once you've overtaken someone; it's the slow guy's job to get behind the fast guy. I hope that official learns the freaking rules before he does another race.
The bike-- an out and back. As soon as I hopped on my bike it started raining. Awesome! It poured the entire time, and I had trouble getting any speed between getting pelted by raindrops and being wary of the puddles in the road. I got passed by my new friend Rick (who won his age group and destroyed me on the swim) and a girl in my age group. More on her later. Anyway, I averaged 18.3 mph, not great but not too bad I guess. I really wanted to get 19 mph, but maybe another time.
T2-- fine. I got socks on this time since the cuts on my feet from my last sockless sprint took about a month to heal-- ow!
The run-- really bleeping hurt. It was my slowest sprint run, which could have been because we ran on "grass" (read: swamp) for about a mile of the course. Not too awesome, especially since I was wearing my new and incredibly heavy shoes. Which were ruined by the end of the day. I ran 8:59 minute miles despite my faithful running speedwork every Tuesday. Crap!
Afterward I hung out with K and her tri man (who also won his age group) and hit the kegs as hard as I could. I got in three whole beers! Never mind it was over almost three hours and well before 11:00 am-- I'm a drinking champion! Eventually the weather also cleared up, but not til long after I finished. I felt bad for all the newbies, who started later in the swim on account of their slower seed times, because they were out in the worst of the weather. What kind of first timer experience is that? Anyway, I came in 4th of 27 in my age group; that girl in my age group that passed me on the bike (I tried in vain to reel her in on the run... no dice) was a really fast and accomplished triathlete, and I have no business racing with her. Still, she only came in 3rd-- could I be moving up the food chain?
Three other things about the post race party: K came up to congratulate me on my 3rd place finish. I thought this was suspect since two girls had passed me on the bike and I started 46th, so chances were good that someone was 25-29 ahead of me. Turns out she read the results wrong and I came in fourth, much like I did to my friend on the 4th of July. What goes around comes around!
I also met Jane at the race. She came up to introduce herself and said she read my blog. I danced around like a schoolgirl who needed to tinkle-- 'cause that's how I roll. Smooth, like butter.
Afterward I went to get my stuff from transition and head home. I noticed that everything I owned was not only already mildewing but smelled like actual crap. Turns out that of all the mud on the course, I managed to find the pile of dog poop to step in. Disgusting.
All in all a great race. And a longer report than intended... sorry!
The swim-- I seeded myself at around a 4:42. I was nervous because I've all but given up swimming this summer, especially because my last pool swim I caught two people, and I didn't want to be getting caught in this race since it sucketh. I needn't have worried though: apparently everyone lied on their swims because I did a very painful 4:59 (probably a 4:49 if you just include the swim and not climbing out and getting across the mat). No one caught me and I caught no one. Yesss!
And here is the best race pic ever. Oooh, and here's the second best ever. Who takes pictures of people while they're getting out of the pool??
Transition-- sucked because I thought I had to move my stuff to the other side of the rack to avoid a penalty. Everyone knows that you have to have your transition towel on the side of your bike touching the ground. But did you know that you have to have the down side of your bike on the same side as the rack number? Me neither! In fact, I don't think anyone really knew that til the head official said something before the race and after transition was closed. However, he also said it is the passing rider's responsibility to get out of the draft zone, which isn't true once you've overtaken someone; it's the slow guy's job to get behind the fast guy. I hope that official learns the freaking rules before he does another race.
The bike-- an out and back. As soon as I hopped on my bike it started raining. Awesome! It poured the entire time, and I had trouble getting any speed between getting pelted by raindrops and being wary of the puddles in the road. I got passed by my new friend Rick (who won his age group and destroyed me on the swim) and a girl in my age group. More on her later. Anyway, I averaged 18.3 mph, not great but not too bad I guess. I really wanted to get 19 mph, but maybe another time.
T2-- fine. I got socks on this time since the cuts on my feet from my last sockless sprint took about a month to heal-- ow!
The run-- really bleeping hurt. It was my slowest sprint run, which could have been because we ran on "grass" (read: swamp) for about a mile of the course. Not too awesome, especially since I was wearing my new and incredibly heavy shoes. Which were ruined by the end of the day. I ran 8:59 minute miles despite my faithful running speedwork every Tuesday. Crap!
Afterward I hung out with K and her tri man (who also won his age group) and hit the kegs as hard as I could. I got in three whole beers! Never mind it was over almost three hours and well before 11:00 am-- I'm a drinking champion! Eventually the weather also cleared up, but not til long after I finished. I felt bad for all the newbies, who started later in the swim on account of their slower seed times, because they were out in the worst of the weather. What kind of first timer experience is that? Anyway, I came in 4th of 27 in my age group; that girl in my age group that passed me on the bike (I tried in vain to reel her in on the run... no dice) was a really fast and accomplished triathlete, and I have no business racing with her. Still, she only came in 3rd-- could I be moving up the food chain?
Three other things about the post race party: K came up to congratulate me on my 3rd place finish. I thought this was suspect since two girls had passed me on the bike and I started 46th, so chances were good that someone was 25-29 ahead of me. Turns out she read the results wrong and I came in fourth, much like I did to my friend on the 4th of July. What goes around comes around!
I also met Jane at the race. She came up to introduce herself and said she read my blog. I danced around like a schoolgirl who needed to tinkle-- 'cause that's how I roll. Smooth, like butter.
Afterward I went to get my stuff from transition and head home. I noticed that everything I owned was not only already mildewing but smelled like actual crap. Turns out that of all the mud on the course, I managed to find the pile of dog poop to step in. Disgusting.
All in all a great race. And a longer report than intended... sorry!
Friday, July 13, 2007
I'm selling any children I have when they're 12
especially if they're girls. But, I'm willing to buy them back at 17... if there's a discount involved.
Last weekend I was the coordinator for the swim portion of a kids triathlon, and kids from 6 to 13 come out for the race. I have to admit I'm a little afraid of kids because they bite. And poop. And puke. And fall over. But I was at the race in the pool area last year, and no one seemed to make too much of a fuss-- I could handle these kids. My real race concern was starting the kids; it's hard to tell from my obnoxiously dry humor, but I have the weeniest pipsqueaky voice in town-- just think mouse with laryngitis. My voice is actually a main point of conflict with Craig because he can never hear me when I talk on the phone (his phone sucks!!) or in France (must not speak too loud or they'll know we're American and we don't know French!). We may end up divorced because he can't hear me, or he may end up smothered with a pillow because his lack of hearing me is pretty frustrating.
But anyway.
The race went well, and even my itty bitty voice could be heard by the 8 year olds. Everyone listened, (okay, most kids listened. Good enough for me!), and the volunteer mothers commented on how "nice girl" I seemed. Ha! I was just about to say that I liked kids when I came across the 12 year old girls wave.
These were not children before me. They were pre-adolescent witches. Gone were the bright-eyed questions like "Can we hit people?" from the 9 year old boys. Gone were the 7 year olds' tears because the water was too cold. And most sadly, gone were the 10 year olds' requests for someone to swim the course for them. 12 year old girls were different beasts. Let me just say it was a long six minutes before I set them off. I still shudder thinking about it.
That's all. Just wanted to share. I have a newfound respect for myself because I was on time (in Katy by 4:45 thankyouverymuch) and for parents for not eating their young at some point. If your club does one, you should definitely volunteer at a kids race. They're so small and cute-- so long as they're not crying or puking at you.
Just something to think about.
Last weekend I was the coordinator for the swim portion of a kids triathlon, and kids from 6 to 13 come out for the race. I have to admit I'm a little afraid of kids because they bite. And poop. And puke. And fall over. But I was at the race in the pool area last year, and no one seemed to make too much of a fuss-- I could handle these kids. My real race concern was starting the kids; it's hard to tell from my obnoxiously dry humor, but I have the weeniest pipsqueaky voice in town-- just think mouse with laryngitis. My voice is actually a main point of conflict with Craig because he can never hear me when I talk on the phone (his phone sucks!!) or in France (must not speak too loud or they'll know we're American and we don't know French!). We may end up divorced because he can't hear me, or he may end up smothered with a pillow because his lack of hearing me is pretty frustrating.
But anyway.
The race went well, and even my itty bitty voice could be heard by the 8 year olds. Everyone listened, (okay, most kids listened. Good enough for me!), and the volunteer mothers commented on how "nice girl" I seemed. Ha! I was just about to say that I liked kids when I came across the 12 year old girls wave.
These were not children before me. They were pre-adolescent witches. Gone were the bright-eyed questions like "Can we hit people?" from the 9 year old boys. Gone were the 7 year olds' tears because the water was too cold. And most sadly, gone were the 10 year olds' requests for someone to swim the course for them. 12 year old girls were different beasts. Let me just say it was a long six minutes before I set them off. I still shudder thinking about it.
That's all. Just wanted to share. I have a newfound respect for myself because I was on time (in Katy by 4:45 thankyouverymuch) and for parents for not eating their young at some point. If your club does one, you should definitely volunteer at a kids race. They're so small and cute-- so long as they're not crying or puking at you.
Just something to think about.
Thursday, July 05, 2007
The not best 4th of July ever
Have you ever wanted to conjure your stress from an unknown force to a tangible thing, ball it up, eat it, then take a big de-stressing dump and triumphantly flush it down the toilet? What a coincidence! Me neither! But I think that's what happened this week. I woke up Tuesday feeling kind of icky, so I decided to call in. Little did I know I would actually be feeling awful by noon and yelling "Uncle" by 2, all the while whining and moaning to Craig. Poor guy. Anyway, I thought I felt better by Tuesday night, so I went to the Freedom 5k on the morning of the 4th.
I shouldn't have left the house, but I didn't see the warning signs. I was running this 5k, eating some kolaches, then meeting the girls for a 40 miler on Lucy. It was gonna be great. Instead, I ran 2.6 miles because the course was partially flooded (they're not kidding about that Texas rain, folks), unenthusiastically ate my kolaches, and went home to sleep the rest of the day away. I missed the parties and the little of the fireworks I couldn't see from my apartment (that is, if I'd watched them. I'm not crazy about fireworks). I do feel less stressed now though, even if I'm still rumbly in the tumbly. And the 2.6 miler? Perfect 8:00 miles (8:12, 7:54, 4:42 by the ol' watcheroo-- I think I could've brought home a full 5k at 8:00s, but we'll never know). I talked with another girl after the race and we decided the mile markers weren't in the right spot since I was pretty sure I took it out sub-8 and struggled in the second mile. Oh, here's a story about that girl, let's call her Judy: Judy said she was leaving before the awards ceremony, so when I saw she was 3rd in our age group, I ran over to tell her to stick around. Turns out that was the second page of results for ladies 25-29 and I'm a huge A-hole since the sheet clearly showed she was 10th. In my defense, however, places 1-7 were on a sheet very low on an adjacent column, so anyone coulda made the mistake. In fact, I KNEW there was a mistake since I was in first (really 8th), but I couldn't find that other sneaky sheet; in the future, I'll keep my mouth shut to keep my stinky foot out of it.
Anyway, boring 4th for me. Ran (also warmed up-- a good move and a lesson learned the hard way. Several times), nibbled, slept. No post-race blowing chunks, from running or beer pong. How's that for patriotic?
I shouldn't have left the house, but I didn't see the warning signs. I was running this 5k, eating some kolaches, then meeting the girls for a 40 miler on Lucy. It was gonna be great. Instead, I ran 2.6 miles because the course was partially flooded (they're not kidding about that Texas rain, folks), unenthusiastically ate my kolaches, and went home to sleep the rest of the day away. I missed the parties and the little of the fireworks I couldn't see from my apartment (that is, if I'd watched them. I'm not crazy about fireworks). I do feel less stressed now though, even if I'm still rumbly in the tumbly. And the 2.6 miler? Perfect 8:00 miles (8:12, 7:54, 4:42 by the ol' watcheroo-- I think I could've brought home a full 5k at 8:00s, but we'll never know). I talked with another girl after the race and we decided the mile markers weren't in the right spot since I was pretty sure I took it out sub-8 and struggled in the second mile. Oh, here's a story about that girl, let's call her Judy: Judy said she was leaving before the awards ceremony, so when I saw she was 3rd in our age group, I ran over to tell her to stick around. Turns out that was the second page of results for ladies 25-29 and I'm a huge A-hole since the sheet clearly showed she was 10th. In my defense, however, places 1-7 were on a sheet very low on an adjacent column, so anyone coulda made the mistake. In fact, I KNEW there was a mistake since I was in first (really 8th), but I couldn't find that other sneaky sheet; in the future, I'll keep my mouth shut to keep my stinky foot out of it.
Anyway, boring 4th for me. Ran (also warmed up-- a good move and a lesson learned the hard way. Several times), nibbled, slept. No post-race blowing chunks, from running or beer pong. How's that for patriotic?
Tuesday, July 03, 2007
Would you trade it?
Greyhound and I had an interesting ride this Saturday, complete with 5 used tubes and CO2 cartridges and about 3 hours of delay. Despite the challenges of the day it still beat getting rained out of like the rest of Houston was on Sunday. And it beat working. And it beat getting poked in the arm with bits of glass and metal. It also beat getting eaten by a shark, chased by an angry clown, and stepping in dog poop with both shoes. At the end of the day you just have to ask yourself: would you trade it for a cool glass of iced tea and a book? Would you trade it for having to work all dang weekend? Would you trade it for 10 pounds of blubber on your frame and high cholesterol?
Chances are you probably wouldn't. You're gonna have crappy rides and miserable runs (especially in Houston), but in the end it's worth it. And if it's not, life's too short. Find something else to do. You feel me?
P.S. Saturday's melodrama was all but forgiven on Sunday. I got in my interval workout I accidentally napped through on Tuesday and destroyed that mofo in a nice cool sprinkle. After that I met the 'Hound and we tore up the waves for an hour of open water swimming in rain and, well, thunder. Don't worry--it sounded pretty distant. And we both made it out alive, always a nice perk.
Chances are you probably wouldn't. You're gonna have crappy rides and miserable runs (especially in Houston), but in the end it's worth it. And if it's not, life's too short. Find something else to do. You feel me?
P.S. Saturday's melodrama was all but forgiven on Sunday. I got in my interval workout I accidentally napped through on Tuesday and destroyed that mofo in a nice cool sprinkle. After that I met the 'Hound and we tore up the waves for an hour of open water swimming in rain and, well, thunder. Don't worry--it sounded pretty distant. And we both made it out alive, always a nice perk.
My avatar
Many moons ago the Dread Pirate asked me about my avatar. Bloody shoes? What the heck is wrong with me? While that question may have too detailed an answer for interest, I can explain the nasty pic.
My first tri ever was Outloud's Ironstar half ironman, complete with 59 miles of biking pleasure instead of the standard 56. I told the 2004 version of the race along with the 2006 one from last fall, so I won't get into it again now except to say that I forgot socks-- no dirty socks, no toe socks, no knee highs-- nothing. When I realized this in my hotel the night before the race I opted to do the run without socks instead of driving the .8 miles up the road to a Walmart to get a pair. You know how they say it's better to get 30 minutes less sleep but not be rushed during your race prep? I don't believe that.
So I set up my transition with no socks. At 10 miles into the run a pair of women who kept going back and forth with me (they were running faster than me but walking longer at the aide stations) asked me if I felt okay. Um, yes. That's why I'm even splitting my consistent yet unimpressive 10:50 miles, biatches. Then one pointed to my feet, which were wearing the bloody shoes that hadn't been bloody when I started. I seriously almost puked. See, I knew I was rubbing my feet but there weren't really hurting a lot; I had no idea that both my ankles were completely raw. I finished the race okay (choosing to ignore the gasps of children as I ran past them in the last mile as well as avoid looking down at my disgusting feet), got some medical attention for my feet and all was well.
After the race I took a picture of my impressively nasty shoes; I have to admit I was a little inspired by Schilling's pitching and bleeding through his sock in the 2004 playoffs either the night before my race or the night before that. I thought it was an appropriate visual symbol for me: a true dumbass, too lazy to miss 15 minutes of sleepy indulgence, yet tough enough to handle the distance. Slow, stubborn, dreaming of badass-ness... that's me.
But I'm thinking it's time for a new avatar, one without blood, puke, or and sort of bodily fluid if possible. Suggestions? Remember now I don't race pretty, as evidenced in every single freaking race picture ever taken of me.
My first tri ever was Outloud's Ironstar half ironman, complete with 59 miles of biking pleasure instead of the standard 56. I told the 2004 version of the race along with the 2006 one from last fall, so I won't get into it again now except to say that I forgot socks-- no dirty socks, no toe socks, no knee highs-- nothing. When I realized this in my hotel the night before the race I opted to do the run without socks instead of driving the .8 miles up the road to a Walmart to get a pair. You know how they say it's better to get 30 minutes less sleep but not be rushed during your race prep? I don't believe that.
So I set up my transition with no socks. At 10 miles into the run a pair of women who kept going back and forth with me (they were running faster than me but walking longer at the aide stations) asked me if I felt okay. Um, yes. That's why I'm even splitting my consistent yet unimpressive 10:50 miles, biatches. Then one pointed to my feet, which were wearing the bloody shoes that hadn't been bloody when I started. I seriously almost puked. See, I knew I was rubbing my feet but there weren't really hurting a lot; I had no idea that both my ankles were completely raw. I finished the race okay (choosing to ignore the gasps of children as I ran past them in the last mile as well as avoid looking down at my disgusting feet), got some medical attention for my feet and all was well.
After the race I took a picture of my impressively nasty shoes; I have to admit I was a little inspired by Schilling's pitching and bleeding through his sock in the 2004 playoffs either the night before my race or the night before that. I thought it was an appropriate visual symbol for me: a true dumbass, too lazy to miss 15 minutes of sleepy indulgence, yet tough enough to handle the distance. Slow, stubborn, dreaming of badass-ness... that's me.
But I'm thinking it's time for a new avatar, one without blood, puke, or and sort of bodily fluid if possible. Suggestions? Remember now I don't race pretty, as evidenced in every single freaking race picture ever taken of me.
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