Tuesday, July 03, 2007

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.

4 comments:

Marie said...

how about your kitties?

the Dread Pirate Rackham said...

oh, thanks for finally telling the story!

Um, Ow!

Hrm. I'll be on the lookout for your new avatar. Avatars build on a theme. the trouble with "DUDE I AM FREAKING OUT" is that it conjures up immediate images of dope smoking hippies. I don't do dope smoking hippies, I'm sure you don't either. This will not suffice as an avatar.

The shoes are cool, now that I get it!

George Schweitzer said...

Dude...you're one tough motha.

Jane said...

Eeww, I never noticed that they were bloody sneakers...wow, that's hardcore. Maybe a pic of your calves and feet and non-bloody shoes?