Friday, July 08, 2005
eye of the tiger
Well, I'm reaching the end of Week 2 of my triathlon training, and let me tell you...its been underwhelming. I guess I should have seen this coming, really. When I arrived in PA, I already knew that I wouldn't have a pool at my disposal (or a frickin car, for that matter).
But I do have my old trusty 10 speed, sitting there in my parent's garage, looking as if it had been waiting patiently all this time for me to come back and ride it poorly (as I had for so many years). Actually, it looked pretty dusty and very "early 90s"...you know, the whole turquoise and purple paint splatter thing. But anyway, I hopped on and I swear, my knees were up to my ears -- I've clearly had some sort of growth spurt. The seat and handlebars needed adjusted, and being the handy dandy gal I am, I dug around until I found a big crescent wrench (or monkey wrench? the point is that it was a WRENCH of either the baked good or primate kind)
At first I tried to loosen the seat and bars by bashing them with wrench over and over. Eventually I tossed the wrench and starting using my teeth. But then my jaw locked up and I knew I had to stop. So I took five to regroup and pop a Mentos. Suddenly, I had a brilliant idea: use the wrench head to twist off the bolts!! Of course!
So I went to it, (Remembering of course, lefty loosey, righty tighty) toiling over the bolts for several minutes only to discovery my turquoise-laquered handle bars were completely immobile. The only thing I could adjust was my seat, which could go from slightly above my handlebars to towering above them. I know I know, real bike riders have their seats and bars at practically the same height. But guess what? I'm not Lance Armstrong. I'm Penny Prissypants and I need to have my bike seat BELOW my handlebars. And the handlebars have to have streamers. And a bell, possibly.
Sooo, where was I? I've completely derailed my train of thought here. I'm starting to think scotch is not my friend, it's seriously messing with my attention span. I think what I'm driving at here is that I'm a complete wuss and also a total non-athlete, and this training is going to kick my sorry cracker ass. I can't bike, I can't swim....and lately even my running has been piss poor.
Here in PA, during the summer, if you don't get up and running before 7:30AM, you will die of heat stroke. However, if you wait until about 8-9PM when the sun sets and it finally cools off...it immediately begins to rain. And if your lucky it will also hail like it did today. PLUS if you're a moron like me, you'll go running at 8PM, after you've had 6 meals, 2 diet pepsi's and laid on your stomach for an hour right after dinner while playing Scrabble. Five minutes into your run you will get a side-stitch and just as you begin to wonder WHY this keeps happening, the skies open a second time and you are drenched. Once again, God's wacky sense of humor has foiled you.
So anyway, triathlon training is all about LEARNING (and pain...and painful learning...and learning painfully) and I think the lessons I've learned today are 1) Don't use your teeth on aluminum bike framing 2) Your mother can use the word "whores" when playing scrabble with your 9 year old brother, but YOU can't use the word "hobag" 3) Get your lazy ass out of bed and run in THE MORNING before you've eaten anything, dammit.
But I do have my old trusty 10 speed, sitting there in my parent's garage, looking as if it had been waiting patiently all this time for me to come back and ride it poorly (as I had for so many years). Actually, it looked pretty dusty and very "early 90s"...you know, the whole turquoise and purple paint splatter thing. But anyway, I hopped on and I swear, my knees were up to my ears -- I've clearly had some sort of growth spurt. The seat and handlebars needed adjusted, and being the handy dandy gal I am, I dug around until I found a big crescent wrench (or monkey wrench? the point is that it was a WRENCH of either the baked good or primate kind)
At first I tried to loosen the seat and bars by bashing them with wrench over and over. Eventually I tossed the wrench and starting using my teeth. But then my jaw locked up and I knew I had to stop. So I took five to regroup and pop a Mentos. Suddenly, I had a brilliant idea: use the wrench head to twist off the bolts!! Of course!
So I went to it, (Remembering of course, lefty loosey, righty tighty) toiling over the bolts for several minutes only to discovery my turquoise-laquered handle bars were completely immobile. The only thing I could adjust was my seat, which could go from slightly above my handlebars to towering above them. I know I know, real bike riders have their seats and bars at practically the same height. But guess what? I'm not Lance Armstrong. I'm Penny Prissypants and I need to have my bike seat BELOW my handlebars. And the handlebars have to have streamers. And a bell, possibly.
Sooo, where was I? I've completely derailed my train of thought here. I'm starting to think scotch is not my friend, it's seriously messing with my attention span. I think what I'm driving at here is that I'm a complete wuss and also a total non-athlete, and this training is going to kick my sorry cracker ass. I can't bike, I can't swim....and lately even my running has been piss poor.
Here in PA, during the summer, if you don't get up and running before 7:30AM, you will die of heat stroke. However, if you wait until about 8-9PM when the sun sets and it finally cools off...it immediately begins to rain. And if your lucky it will also hail like it did today. PLUS if you're a moron like me, you'll go running at 8PM, after you've had 6 meals, 2 diet pepsi's and laid on your stomach for an hour right after dinner while playing Scrabble. Five minutes into your run you will get a side-stitch and just as you begin to wonder WHY this keeps happening, the skies open a second time and you are drenched. Once again, God's wacky sense of humor has foiled you.
So anyway, triathlon training is all about LEARNING (and pain...and painful learning...and learning painfully) and I think the lessons I've learned today are 1) Don't use your teeth on aluminum bike framing 2) Your mother can use the word "whores" when playing scrabble with your 9 year old brother, but YOU can't use the word "hobag" 3) Get your lazy ass out of bed and run in THE MORNING before you've eaten anything, dammit.
# posted by yellow_mustard_girl : 8:05 PM
