Rainy ride and recent movies

I've found that the week post-triathlon, each time, has been a bit of a downer. The other day I resolved to kick off the latter half of the week with what would hopefully be a restorative bike ride at sun-up. So off I went on my first ride since Sunday's hilly atrocity. It was a lovely morning, and the sky was brightening with the ascending sun, and I passed my old boss's house and she was out on her driveway with her dog, so we waved.

Not 5 seconds later, I noticed some water on the sidewalk ahead, which is not unusual due to sprinklers, but then I noticed sprinkles all over the lake, and I thought to myself, "Wow, they must have gotten a bigger sprinkler!" Then I realized that it was pouring down rain. Whoa! It was kind of shocking at first because I couldn't really see, but I said, "Self, eyelids are the original windshield wipers. You can make this work!" So I just started blinking rapidly and somehow kept most of the water out of my eyes. I had to slow down, obviously, but what was I going to do, pull over and just stand there holding my bike in the rain? Soon I was soaked to the skin, my shoes filled up with water, and I could feel the dirt splashing up on my seat, shorts, shirt, and even helmet from the back tire. It was kind of crazy.

I could not help but laugh; there were a ton of runners out, and everyone seemed sort of amused, shrugging at each other and smiling as we passed. The best part was how the ducks climbed out of the woodwork to take over the rapidly filling puddles, splashing and ducking their entire heads in the water and pulling them out and shaking them off and then nosediving right back in. It was a total Disney movie. The sun was still shining, so everything was kind of shiny and sparkly and lovely. Eventually I made it home, sloshing inside and realizing the entire back of my body and clothing was caked in sandy wet black dirt. Good times!

Misc.: Sometimes I make little notes to myself about things and can't remember their origin. Like, I just found one that says "Mr. Blue Sky. ELO." I really, really like this song! But where did first hear it, and what made me look it up? No memory of this whatsoever. (A little later...) I remember now! I was reading one of the trailer tournament posts at Low Resolution and heard it in the trailer for Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind. Great movie, great song.

And now a quick recap of movies I've seen recently:

Funny People

I always enjoy seeing movies with my little brother because he laughs big and he laughs often, which makes me laugh, too. Overall, this movie is kind of strange. It's funny and depressing. I liked all of the actors, but I wasn't crazy about the characters. Leslie Mann was really good, and Eric Bana was so funny I might have been kind of in shock. It's way too long, but it's got good parts. Wow, I am a terrible movie reviewer!

500 Days of Summer

Mostly, I liked it. I liked the music, and the actors were totally winning. I was a little annoyed by the aglow in the sunshine shots, you know what I mean? But I thought the end was very true to life. And the Hall and Oates dancing scene was perfection to me.

Julie and Julia

I understand that Julie was supposed to be living a blah life, but I will never understand why they had to de-glamourize Amy Adams to such an absurd degree in this role. I guess they had to try extra hard to dim her natural radiance (I am serious), but it was so overboard that I just wanted to shake Julie by the shoulders and say, "How can you expect to be happy with hair and clothes like that?" That said, clearly Meryl Streep was beyond amazing and so delightful that the movie made me feel a little floaty. It was a fun one to see with my mom, who LOVED IT. I caught some Julia Child reruns on PBS later that week, and she really was so astonishing to watch. "And now I shall give my chicken a BUTTER MASSAGE!" I thought Meryl Streep might be playing her over the top, but it turns out that's how she really was. A movie all about Julia would have probably been better, but I understand why they set it up the way that they did and that Julie's side of the story was the whole impetus for the film, that her blog was a brilliant idea, and that the actual real-life Julie is probably a lot less dishwatery than the film version. Overall: thumbs up.

17 Again

I thought the Efron factor would be enough to make this a good movie. I was very wrong. There is nothing good about this movie. Zac was so fantastic as Link in Hairspray, but everything about Hairspray was so glorious and perfect that perhaps I overestimated his personal greatness. To beat a dead horse, I still think he'd make a better Ren McCormack than Chace Crawford.

I Love You, Man

I have loved Jason Segel since he was Nick Andopolis (scroll to 2:50), and Paul Rudd can do no wrong as far as I'm concerned. I liked this movie, but I didn't love it. Rashida Jones is a very natural and likable actress. The guys were very funny. Anything featuring J.K. Simmons gets a good grade from me, usually, and I also really like Andy Samberg. My affection for the movie deepened greatly when watching the special features, which were hilarious and totally worth watching. Without those, this movie mainly made me want to watch Forgetting Sarah Marshall so I could see Paul Rudd as Kunu and Jason Segel as Peepyopee.

The Class

Well. This movie is way better than any of those others. It is in a (pardon me) class by itself. Every moment is brutally and beautifully authentic, every actor is pitch perfect, from the adults to the children, it is like watching a documentary, it is like watching real life, and I loved it. The behind the scenes features about the backstory and creation of the film were fascinating. I cannot stop thinking about this movie. It is something special.

Miss Pettigrew Lives for a Day:

This is a movie I just keep re-watching over and over again. Thanks to Kymm for passing along this (spoilery) review, which wonderfully captures the greatness of the film and describes perfectly the joy and love it causes to surge through one's heart. (The clip to one of my favorite scenes is broken in the review, so try this one, if interested ... it's not super quality, but it's the only clip I could find.) Love, love, love. I could not love this movie more. It is pure magic.)

Triathlon report

About 2 months ago, I did the swimming leg (350 meters) of a triathlon relay team and was hooked. About four weeks later, I did another triathlon, the whole thing that time, all three legs (250 meter swim, 10 mile bike, 2 mile run). I'd only had a bike for about a week and a half. I just kind of threw myself into the whole thing. Luckily, I was able to kind of phase myself in by starting with a relay and then with a triathlon with relatively short distances.

About four more weeks went by, and it was time for the latest event (350 meter swim, 12 mile bike, 2 mile run). While not following any specific training schedule, I tried to either swim, bike, or run almost every day. This has been surprisingly enjoyable.

And now to recap the day!

I set my alarm for 5, but Zuko helpfully woke me up long before that. I ate a piece of toast with peanut butter on it and just kind of lolled around. Eventually I got dressed and loaded my bike onto my cursed trunk rack and headed out to the site. It was still dusk, and there was already a long line for chips. I set up my transition area and headed to the line, where I stood in the wet grass with Tevas on my feet, which were immediately swarmed with fire ants. The welts started swelling immediately, as they do, and I told myself not to scratch them and that I would be worried about far worse soon enough. Not the greatest start to the experience, but whatever! Be tough, I told myself, over and over and over. I got my chip and my number written on my arms and legs with a big black marker by a volunteer, and eventually it was time to line up by the pool.

I learned during the last two triathlons that it is dumb to put your cap and goggles on until right before you get into the pool because it's a very long wait and those things are tight. I self-seeded myself with the 8:30 swimmers and waited and waited and waited. People, this is possibly the least fun part of the day. It's exciting to huddle there, sort of, in your suits as the super fast swimmers begin, but eventually it just gets boring. I stood on the bleachers to watch for a little while and finally it was my turn to hop in. There was no dilly-dallying, as you step on the mat to activate your chip and plunge right in. I found myself passing folks fairly easily which made me feel strong. I knew that the swimming leg would be my best and that I like swimming more than the other two events so I vowed to enjoy it. And I did! I didn't even hesitate to pass people out of fear of being rude or whatever, which I was a little more worried about my first two times around. I did have to switch to breast stroke at some point because I got very tuckered out doing freestyle, but luckily that was my best stroke as a child and there are some things the body just doesn't forget. So I finished and slipped on the little ladder on the way out but the volunteer dudes just grabbed my arms and hauled me out, at which point I tore off my goggles so I could see and my swim cap so my brain could breathe again and took off in bare feet for transition. The volunteers were super cheery, as usual, which helps. (I did the swim in 7:43, an improvement of about 2 minutes over my time in my first triathlon 2 months ago, which is exciting for me! I think if I really worked on sprinting during training instead of just swimming at a semi-leisurely and steady pace I could improve even more.)

T1 (or Transition 1, the time between swimming and biking) is typically the longest, and I ended up taking almost 3 minutes to semi-dry my feet off with a grass-covered towel, put my shoes and socks on, get very tangled up in my shirt as I tried to pull it over a still very wet top half of me, put my helmet on, and grab my wee packet of goo and shove it in my cleavage, a tip I learned from a fellow racer at our pre-race pasta dinner the previous evening (my only experience with goo was during the half-marathon, and I felt it definitely helped me through those last couple of miles), run my bike to the mounting line, hop on, and go.

(Sidebar: the weekend before the race, I went with a group of fellow racers on a practice ride on the race route, where I'd never ridden before. It was way more difficult than my other rides for these reasons: (1) way more windy (2) no shade (3) super fast cars and trucks whizzing by in a terrifying manner and (4) no stopping or slowing down for curves, thus nonstop pedaling the entire time. It took me a solid 60 minutes to finish the training ride, and I was not exactly tickled pink about doing it all over again during the triathlon.)

So the biking leg began, and it wasn't awful. I took comfort in the fact that I'd actually bought a little bag with a spare tube, tools, air can, etc. and attached it to my seat in case I got a flat – there would be volunteers to assist with such things, but only if you had your own gear and tools for it. I knew I would feel like a major chump if I got a flat but had nothing to change it with. So this eased my mind. A few bikes broke down not long into the route, and all I felt I could do was holler "you all right?" and if the answer was affirmative, keep going. What in the hell was I going to do to help, seriously? There were scores of volunteers, and reports after the race indicated they'd been able to help. One biker on a sensational road bike had to pull over because she dropped her water bottle, previously one of my great fears. Not that I was glad to see these difficulties, but it did make feel like less of a spaz, you know? So I rode and rode and rode and reached the dreaded 180-degree turn around point, at which I slowed to a near stop all the while yelling to the traffic building up at my rear, "Sorry people behind me, sorry people behind me, sorry people behind me!" It didn't take me all that long in actuality, but in my mind I was holding up the entire race. But made it through that, phew. Then I ran over the dead coil of a rather giant snake, which was both (1) bumpy and (2) kind of gross! Sometimes I would find myself starting to daydream and not pedaling as fast as I could, and I'd say, "Self, this ain't a joyride, this is a race!" I said this to myself many, many times. At 10 miles, I squirted some delicious, snotty goo into my mouth and told myself it was a melted caramel. Somehow this made it more palatable. It got all over my hand so I just started licking my filthy hand. It made me feel kind of nasty and tough, but in a good way! Finally it was 12 miles …a quick glance at my watch showed me I'd done it about six minutes faster than I had in my training ride, which thrilled me to no end, frankly, even though it's by no means a "fast" time. Time to dismount. Holy hell!

(Sidebar word to the wise: If you are training for a triathlon, please try to get in some workouts where you run after biking. This has been the most difficult part of the races for me by far. Even if you don't have to run very far, there is something strange that happens to your legs after you dismount your bike, and that something is that they stop working. At least momentarily. I let out a very loud "JESUS," when I hopped off my bike to run it into the transition area. I heard laughter from the crowd of volunteers – not a mean-spirited laughter, but a supportive laughter of those who knew all too well what I was feeling. It is very uncomfortable and unpleasant. The only times I have ever run after biking are the two triathlons I've done, and that is just kind of stupid of me. Getting out the gate on the run faster and better would have improved my not only my run time but my run experience, so I am going to have to really plug this practice if you are training.)

T2 was under a minute because all you have to do is get your bike to the rack and rip your helmet off and make your way to the running starting point … it would have been faster had my legs been fully functional, but whatever!

I took a cup of water and a cup of power ade immediately upon setting out on the run, which I think was a mistake, because I immediately got a raging side cramp. I started jogging slowly but it was so painful that I had to walk for probably a ½-mile. Bummer, but oh well. You can only do what you can do … there are some pains that you can push through and some you can't. I walked as fast as I could and the cramp subsided somewhat but not all the way. I decided to just jog anyway and that it was a bearable pain at this point. About one mile in, I saw a dear old childhood friend who was volunteering with his young son, and instead of handing me an ice-cold sponge, he basically showered me with a handful of them, which was AWESOME and felt better than pretty much anything has ever felt in my life. Thanks, childhood friend!

This revitalized me and I felt pretty strong, if slow, for the rest of the run. Eventually I caught up to one of my racing pals and we ran the last quarter mile or so in together, which was nice. She gave me a sip of her power ade. "I've said 'f*ck' like a hundred times," she said. "I might vomit, I mean it, " I said. I praised her for doing this while breastfeeding. We panted along and finished strong. My running time was not stellar (two 12-minute miles), but I still feel good about it because basically I refuse to feel bad about anything at all!

I hoped I would finish in 1:30, but honestly I considered this an unreachable goal knowing how slowly I would probably run, but I swam and biked a little faster than I thought I would, so I finished in 1:29:53! I saw 1:30:00 on my watch as I stopped for them to take my chip off after crossing the finish line and knew I'd made it under my goal time. I felt fantastic as they slipped the medal around my neck and promptly dumped a bottle of water over my head, an action I would repeat more than once in the next hour and a half or so that we stood around baking in the sun watching the awards ceremony and waiting for a raffle drawing for a new road bike. It was majorly, majorly hot, I cannot lie. But that was okay, because we were tough beyotches!

Here's what I have loved about these triathlons so far. Since they have all been all-women triathlons, some of what I have loved has been women-specific. Okay, here goes, and I've said some of this before so bear with me if I'm repeating myself. It is so awesome to be surrounded by hundreds of women from their early teens to their late sixties at every possible level of athleticism imaginable who are there to achieve whatever their goals are. I love seeing the beautiful bodies of every possible shape and size and fitness level. I love that so many dozens of people come out to volunteer to make it all run smoothly and hand out drinks and sponges and keep cars from running us over and show us which way to turn and tell us we are looking good and that we are almost done and that we will make it. To me, that is just a fundamentally kind thing to do, and I would like to volunteer at some point.

The thing about the word "triathlete" is that it contains the word "athlete." I have never been an athlete, and I still have a hard time thinking of myself this way. Surely no one that knows me would ever apply this word to me. I am many things, maybe, but not "athletic." But with every event, I am starting to be able to feel it a little bit more. This has been really good for me this spring and summer. It has felt like just what I needed.

We've got our fourth and final triathlon of the series in a few weeks a few hours away … this one has a little longer distances in every leg, and there's an open water swim in a lake. To get there, we have to wake up and leave literally in the middle of the night. We will get filthy and be delirious, and I honestly cannot wait.

I picture you in the sun

It's now the end of the last day in June. How did we get here? Half the year gone, just like that.

Today dawned at 5:39 a.m. for me when the garbage trucks made their thunderous, window-rattling roll in front of my house. I was reluctant to get up, but I did. I lounged around for a little while, ate a half a banana, and decided to go on a bike ride since I was up anyway. I rode for 7.3 miles, and everything was so still, the water and the air. It was less atrociously hot than usual because of last night's rain. Still muggy and extremely warm, but tolerable. I enjoyed my music and the morning light and the cute dogs being walked and the way people get up earlier and earlier in the summer to exercise just so they can actually do it outside and not fall over and die. I celebrated all of the people out there jogging and biking and walking and thought, "Look at all of us, taking care of ourselves on this summer morning!" I might have been a little delirious. I thought about probably my favorite moment of any bike ride so far, one last weekend when a woman approached me running, recognized my triathlon shirt, and called out the name, greeting me, one triathlete to another, a runner and a biker. It made me feel kind of awesome. I felt like I was in a club of awesomeness. I love that this club is all women.

The day continued with no tears! I made another mixture of fruit and yogurt and added some cereal to the mix and it was delish. I drank my slushy homemade granita. I ate lunch with a girlfriend, a veggie burger and hummus and fries, and bounced her baby on my lap. There were more conversations as the day and afternoon went on and some more tears. But it was okay. My mom says that tears are words you can't say, and I think that is true, but sometimes you have to try to say the words. So I tried. I had a most excellent visit with my mom that was supposed to be just a brief suitcase pick-up and ended up lasting several hours. My mom is a very wise and understanding woman in case I haven't mentioned this one billion times already.

The quote for today is from, as are many things worth knowing in this life, The Sound of Music: "Well, you cry a little. Then you wait for the sun to come out. It always does."

Randomosity

Today's entry will be a string of random thoughts.

It turns out that I have some complex feelings about Michael Jackson. At first when he died, I was immediately annoyed that everything was super positive about him with nary a mention of the fact that he was bananas and possibly did some unspeakable things to small children. But then I started watching clips and remembering. Remembering how much I once loved him, the posters on my bedroom walls, my lapel pin with his face on it, how he predated any other celebrity crush I ever had in later years, the way I adored him before my age even hit the double digits, the whole thing. It's hard for me to articulate my feelings about this so I'll leave it to Linda & Sars, who both said it better than I could.

Apologies to those who have already heard me rant about this: I do not think Chace Crawford is a good enough actor to play Ren McCormack in the Footloose remake, and I wish Zac Efron were going to play him as originally planned. Because I actually think Zac Efron is very talented! Shut up. I also think that Julianne Hough in the Lori Singer role (Ariel) is an abomination. She's supposed to be dark and damaged, and I highly doubt that Hough has that in her. Lori Singer was hardcore. It sort of bothered me when I was very young that she was not your typical teen beauty type like Cindi Mancini in Can't Buy Me Love, but as I've grown up, I realize that she was pretty much perfect for this role. Like, if my dad were super strict and my life were that legitimately dreary and hard, maybe I wouldn't eat either. (Not trying to diss her skinniness, I'm just saying.) Footloose is not all feel-good dancey dancey lighthearted goodness by any stretch. I mean, Ariel's brother died. The reverend is genuinely conflicted. There are some long and sort of boring for children scenes dealing with this, particularly the one set in church and the talks between the reverend and his wife. Bricks are thrown through windows. Books are burned. Ariel's boyfriend beats her up. I'm saying, it's got some heaviness interspersed between chicken races on tractors and Ren teaching Willard how to dance. And the director of the remake directed High School Musical. The more I think about the remake the more annoyed I get, frankly.

I've now made these two weekends in a row. I first made them several summers ago for B.'s birthday, and I've been thinking of them ever since. These past two batches, I've had some trouble dislodging them from the muffin pan without breaking the edges, so they look kind of ugly, but they still taste great. (I use sugar cookie dough instead of peanut butter cookie dough because they are already plenty peanut buttery.)

This was a weekend of nonstop chick-flickery. First: He's Just Not That Into You. Despite my enjoyment of Justin Long in anything he does, this is just not a very good movie. For many reasons. I lack the energy today to get as worked up about this movie as I'd like to, so let me just tell you that I don't recommend it. Second: Confessions of a Shopaholic. I rented this movie solely because of Isla Fisher and Hugh Dancy, and it did not disappoint. I find them both infinitely charming, and this movie is totally cute and entertaining. Third: Marley and Me. Bawled my eyes out at the end, not just cried quiet civilized tears but bawled. I can't say it was a great movie, but Marley sure was cute and reminded me so much of Zuko, that stupid, wild, destructive maniac of a dog I can't help but love.

Went on a 13-mile bike ride this morning. Yesterday I rode to a bike store to get my bike outfitted with new pedals and pedal brackets (baskets? not sure what they're called) -- things to put my feet into. Not clips or anything that would require me to actually fasten my feet in or buy expensive new shoes, but just something to slip my normal sneakers into so I can pedal more efficiently. Other than actually getting both feet inside these without tipping over -- it took me several tries -- I liked this newfangled way of riding and do think it helped me go a little faster.

Today's ride also marked a milestone I've been working up to -- reaching down to grab my water bottle while pedaling. I have never braved this feat because it's really far down, practically below the seat, and takes a really long reach to grab it, which means pedaling one-handed and reaching down and grabbing it and this just seemed too herculean a task to achieve. But today I reached down and touched the bottle a few times without actually grabbing it (tip from Jessie) to practice the reach down. It got to the point that sweat was pouring from my forehead down my nose to my upper lip into my actual mouth and I was so thirsty I started tasting what can only be described as lung juice in the back of my throat and this disgusting sensation propelled me to reach down and grab the tip of the bottle between my knuckles. Triumph! I swigged with abandon and thought I'd just hold the bottle the rest of the ride and drink out of it at my leisure. But then I remembered I needed my hand for, you know, braking. So I had to reach down and return it to its holder. Which was scary in and of itself but I did it. Then I repeated the whole process twice more over the course of the ride. I am very glad I now know how to do this because it's going to be a long, hot summer and I can't ride without drinking water, hello.

The ride was fairly delightful once I got this new routine down. Nature highlight: gorgeous, delicate egret slowly walking across the water. Nature lowpoint: seeing how low the lakes are due to basically zero rainfall in weeks. Musical high points: the harmonies in Cages or Wings and the theme to The Greatest American Hero and hearing The Weepies sing about how you can't steal happiness.

Easy like Sunday morning

It's Sunday morning, and I'm sitting on my couch with a towel on my head and my cat perched on the cushion behind my neck. I'm drinking a homemade iced coffee that I put in the freezer for a while to get slushy with an orange bendy straw. Both the air conditioner and the ceiling fan are blasting. It's 88 degrees, but it could easily be 10 degrees hotter in the next few hours. It's been an unbelievably hot week for June. No rain for days, and none in the forecast.

This morning I slept in until about 8 and got dressed for my bike ride. This involves putting on my new biking shorts (expensive but worth it), a quick dry shirt, my sneakers, and my helmet. I set off for my 13-miler and sweat my face off. One day I will work up the nerve to reach down and grab my water bottle and swig from it while riding. That day was not today, however. I had to pull over about halfway through and sit on a bench and guzzle some water and then set off again. It was mostly a pleasant ride despite swallowing a mouthful of gnats and taking out a small branch with my helmet. I tried to focus on my beautiful surroundings and not on how slow I truly am. I am hoping that getting some brackets for my pedals that I can slip my feet into will help me to move a little faster. But the truth is just that my bike is kind of heavy and slow. And so am I. But I am getting better, and for the most part, I really like it.

I am re-reading The Book Thief after a recent commenter reminded me how much I loved it. It is still really wonderful.

I am feeling really lucky today to be able to prepare and enjoy a meal with my family and to celebrate my dad. I am feeling for my friends who no longer have their dads and hoping today is not too hard for them. I am feeling grateful for my very fat cat who is now pressing herself against my side and arm just because she likes to be close. I got to play with a six-month-old baby last night while his mom tucked in the other kids and, to be frank, we fell in love. We rocked in a rocking chair, and we played a hilarious game of peekaboo with a throw pillow. In fact, he found mostly everything to be hilarious -- the dumber and more ridiculous the better. It is amazing how it literally only takes a few minutes alone with a little baby or kid for the first time to stage a rootin' tootin' love fest.

(Later...)

Today a very large meal was cooked for Father's Day. I made a vegetable pasta dish with whole wheat angel hair with garlic, purple onion, zucchini, yellow squash, teeny tiny tomatoes, red and green bell pepper, and fresh basil with grated romano cheese sprinkled on top. All but the garlic and purple onion were grown either in a neighbor's garden or at a local farm, which I felt great about. My mom and I peeled shrimp and cooked them with a little olive oil and Tony Chachere's, all they needed to be perfect. We heated up a loaf of whole wheat bread baked by a lady across the river, another farmer's market purchase. The crust was super hard and chewy and the inside was squishy soft and delish. I ate a piece (or two) (or three) with real butter. I made these for dessert (with sugar cookie instead of peanut butter cookie dough), which we squished into vanilla ice cream from a local dairy. My older brother's new fiancee brought salad and warm from the oven banana bread.

It is hours later and still I am so full I feel drowsy. My eyes are drooping and my belly is round. I ate more than one person should, but I ate very happily. Over and out.

Swimming with shackles off

I love swimming. I love it a lot. Tonight I swam 1143 meters (1250 yards), my longest swim yet in this whole training season. It was glorious. Mostly. Things that are not glorious about swimming: the bugs, leaves, blades of glass, wads of hair, and other filthy things in the water. My gym's pool is not fundamentally disgusting; I think it's just the result of the sheer quantity of people in the pool, many of whom are small children. I try to look past the dirty bits and just breathe.

Like no other form of exercise for me, swimming allows me to totally free my mind, as En Vogue would want me to do. I just tune out the whole blur of life. I count my laps and listen to the air bubbles made when I breathe. It sounds kind of like the ocean in my ears, like I'm listening to a conch shell, because the cap fits tightly over my ears and adds to the whole drown out the rest of humanity sensation. I just go to my happy place. It's so anonymous -- with your face in the water and your hair in a cap and goggles over your eyes, it's like no one knows it's you. You're just there all alone in the water. It is such a comfortable and comforting solitude.

Today, a good friend of mine introduced me to the Martha Beck concept of "shackles on" vs. "shackles off." I am not sure who Martha Beck is, exactly, but I really like this concept upon first glance. I am going to look more into it because I am intrigued, and I like that it seems to involve gut-checking and, more importantly, gut-trusting. That is so important and so hard sometimes. Anyway, swimming = totally shackles off for me, and I am thankful for it.

It's a good thing I love it so much, otherwise peeling off my bathing suit and seeing a clump of hair that does not belong to me plastered against my bosom might send me keeling over in a dead faint. I tell myself it's all chlorinated and to calm down. Really, swimming calms me down so much intrinsically that these things do not bother me. It's like an OCD miracle.

I also had my best bike ride yet yesterday morning. 10 miles in the scorching 10 a.m. sun. I know it does not sound like the sun would be scorching at 10 a.m., but it was. I rode with a distinct lack of the fear that has plagued me on earlier rides. I was basically like, "Out of my way, joggers in the wrong lane! Coming through!" I am turning and slowing down with more skill and confidence. I am certainly no speedster, but it's so beautiful along the route, and I am starting to let it inspire me instead of worrying every minute that I am going to be colliding with certain death.

I guess that's about it for tonight. I watched In Bruges again and loved it all over again. I am enjoying Dragon Spear. I loved The Wednesday Wars and reviewed it over at Melissa's site, Kidliterate. My brain is shutting down now. Good night.

Triathlon report

Not sure my fingers have the energy to type this post, but I am willing them to. Last night my friend and I drove about 2.5 hours away to spend the night before our triathlon this morning. (Designed mostly for beginners, it was a 250m swim, 10mi bike ride, and 2mi run.) Even though we got rather lost, heading to Texas instead of the central part of the state by accident, we had an enjoyable road trip. We have basically exactly the same taste in music, so we sang until our voices hurt. We calmed ourselves in the frenzy of getting lost by listening to Hairspray. It's just soothing. "He's Corny!" Anyway, we went out for pasta and French bread in the attempt to carb it up bigtime and turned in at about 10:30. BBQ shrimp pasta is very good. So is The Wednesday Wars, which I didn't want to stop reading, but we decided it was best to turn out the lights for our 6 a.m. wake-up call. At about 1 a.m., the peaceful sound of the waterfall on my noise machine turned inexplicably to morning birdsong, which of course woke up up instantly. "WHAT THE ___?" I moaned, cursing and slapping the buttons until the waterfall came back. Somehow my friend slept through this, luckily.

We were up and out the door by 6:15 to head to our destination. We picked up our packets and got our numbers drawn on our arms and legs with big black markers and set up our bikes. Since I only did the swimming leg last time, the whole set up was new to me. I didn't even know how to hook the bike onto the little rack. Great. But I lay out my towel and shoes and helmet and all that jazz and soon it was time to head to the pool area. The 250 meter swim meant up and back in five lanes. We predicted this would cause major traffic jams -- swimming counter-intuitively on the left and passing on the right, where someone would inevitably be coming at you because she was swimming on her left -- if it sounds confusing, it was, but luckily no one had to pass me, and I was able to pass a couple of people by ending up at the wall at the same time and having them graciously tell me to go ahead. So I really enjoyed the swim other than the fact that I could feel the velcro on my ankle bracelet chip loosening with every kick and I think it caused me to kick a little less ferociously than I would have otherwise.

I lost a little time getting out of the pool because I'd left my Tevas near the pool steps. Many people left their sandals or flip-flops there because the asphalt in the parking lot where the bikes were was really really rocky and hurt to walk on gingerly -- I was afraid it would tear my feet up if hauling ass across it. I never go barefoot, even in my own home, so my feet are not exactly toughened up. Anyway, that took me a second, as did changing into padded biking shorts once I got to the transition area, but I know my nether regions, and there was no way they could survive the bike ride without padding. I pulled my bike down and realized I'd forgotten to put my shirt on, but when I reached down the bike started falling over, so I just left my shirt on the ground -- remembering that the race leader guy had said we only needed to wear our numbers for the run, not the ride -- and rode in my swimsuit and biking shorts. I "ran" with my bike to the mounting area and wobbled my way on, apologizing to the volunteers, "It's my first time." They were very encouraging.

I proceeded to set out on the ten mile ride and fry somewhat like bacon, but that's okay. I was passed time and again by other bikers -- my friend finished the swim after me but passed me handily on the bike -- but I never passed anyone, no shock there. I pedaled as fast as I could, but I am still a beginner and there is only so fast my bike can go, especially compared to some of the road bikes whizzing past me every two seconds as if they had wings. Next time I will bring sunglasses because I squinted the entire time. I tried to sing to myself and enjoy the scenery. Truly, it was so pastoral I felt as if I were in a watercolor painting or something. There were horses behind fences. "Hi, horses!" I called, flashing back to when my dad was teaching me how to drive on River Road and he yelled at me for getting distracted by the cows on the levee. What can I say, I find large grazing farm animals a pleasure to behold. There were silos and red barns. Sprawling farmhouses with front porches and corn fields, which of course made me start thinking about The Omnivore's Dilemma. The course was luckily totally flat. I only ended up in the wrong lane once on a turn. It was strange to try to give myself pep talks. Usually, such as in the half-marathon, I would just say to myself over and over, "You can do this, it's what you've been training for!" This time, I just said, "You can do this, it's what you've ... not trained for at all. But that's okay, you can still do it!"

Some 45+ minutes (?) later, it was time to dismount and "run" the bike back to the transition area. My legs were total noodles by this point and I seriously thought I was going to fall over. I took my time pulling off the biking shorts and pulling on running shorts (way too much changing compared to other people but I just wanted to be comfortable and not feel like I was running in a diaper) and making sure to put my damn shirt on and grab a visor because it was really sunny and there was not a tree in sight. I took off and saw that many, many people had already finished the entire triathlon. I told myself it was only two miles. Unfortunately it was two miles on legs I could no longer feel with sizzling skin on black pavement roads. Holy crap. I didn't make it very far on the run before I had to start speed walking and calm down a little bit. I ran a little more, I walked a little more. I saw my friend up ahead of me and as a volunteer cheered me on, "Lookin' good!" (doubtful), I said to her, "I am going to catch my friend" (pant pant) "if it kills me!" "You go get her," she yelled. So I took off (and by that I mean I broke into a slow jog instead of walking) and eventually caught up to her. I didn't feel bad about having walked because a lot of people were walking. A lot. And a lot of them looked really fit. It was just ... really hot. People were really hot, it was obvious. Thank goodness for the volunteer cheerleaders -- they really did help so much. I ran through to the end and promptly dumped a bottle of cold water over my head because I was so hot I felt like I might burst into flames. My friend came through shortly thereafter and our final times ended up being within less than a minute of each other. (I was a faster swimmer, she was a faster biker, and we ran probably around the same. So it was all good.)

We got our medals and stretched and ate some jambalaya and headed home, but not before stopping on our way out of town at the DQ. I wanted a banana pudding blizzard probably more than I've ever wanted anything in my life. I hadn't been to the DQ since the summer of '95 in Boulder, when I ate a blizzard every day and I'm not joking. If you see pictures of me from that summer, this will come as no surprise. I hadn't even been to a DQ since I first saw Waiting for Guffman. So it had an even deeper meaning. We enjoyed our blizzards. Every bite of vanilla wafers and bananas and ice cream tasted like Libby Mae Brown singing Teacher's Pet and like that beautiful Colorado summer.

So. That was that. My sister reminded me that she's always thought I should be a triathlete. She has said this over the years but I effectively ignored her because it seemed impossible to contemplate. Now as of today I actually am. I still can't really believe it.

One of my favorite parts of one of my favorite books, Taking Care of Terrific by Lois Lowry (who has an excellent blog), is when Cynthia looks back on organizing the bag lady root beer popsicle protest and reflects upon how good it feels to win a war, thinking it might be fun to start another one.

In that spirit, I feel like I must now look for another war. So I've registered for a slightly longer triathlon in August (350m swim, 12mi bike, and 2mi run) and am considering an even longer triathlon (500m swim, 15mi bike, 5k run) where I'd have to swim in a lake. Reports are that you come out of the lake totally brown and covered in goo. If that's not immersion therapy for a germophobe, I don't know what is. I feel good about this. I think that Cynthia, Hawk, Seth Sandroff, and Tom Terrific would be proud.

Catching up & rambling

A few more words on Chuck: I finished season one and loved every second of it. I spent way too much money for a season pass for the second season on iTunes, but it's worth it to me. I'm two episodes in, and it continues to delight. One of the miracles this show has worked in my life is that it's actually made me like the actress who played the much hated Madison on Everwood. I never would have thought this to be possible, but Chuck is just magical that way.

Last weekend was a nice one. I spent Saturday morning at a little women's retreat led by my mom, and I was so proud. She did a wonderful job. She was funny, assured, inspiring, and wise.

Mother's Day was good. Morning mass followed by an afternoon gig of my brother's, where we ate boiled shrimp and had a merry time. After that, I went on a bike ride for the first time in at least 15 years. I borrowed my friend's bike and rode in her peaceful neighborhood with little to no traffic, which was a good plan. Only once did I end up messing up a turn and rolling inadvertently into someone's front yard. I'm still not entirely sure how to brake and turn, but I didn't fall down and rode for a solid 30 minutes, so I feel great about it!

(A few days later...) Ow. Ow, ow, ow. So cried my back for the next four days. I think leaning over the handlebars and clutching them in a death grip due to being someone nervous on the bike pulled some muscles in my back. It's finally feeling somewhat normal again after not exercising in several days. O Lord.

One night this week, I celebrated my dad's birthday with my parents. Fresh green beans with real butter, corn on the cob, whole wheat spaghetti, fresh pineapple, broccoli salad, and some kind of pounded meat cutlet-y thing. And limoncello! It was good to visit with them and celebrate the wonder that is my dad.

I've read the first section (CORN) of The Omnivore's Dilemma and a little bit of the next section (GRASS). It's a book club assignment, and I had to think long and hard about actually starting it because I feared it would make me more neurotic about food than I already am. I have to turn a blind eye to most of the things I put in my mouth because the freaked out germophobe in me can't tolerate to think about where any of it came from. I'm like, hello, little grape. Did a cow ever take a poop on you? (I know that makes no sense.) I'm not sure that's so healthy, especially when I've been trying to for the most part eat whole and natural foods this spring. That's really a movement towards eating more consciously for me, and I don't want to avoid a book that will shed light on where some of that food comes from. I have to say that the corn section has basically made me never want to think about ever touching any part of any animal fed with corn ever again. Even though last night I ate and enjoyed a giant ear of corn on the cob. Wha? It made me actually mad at corn. Like, how dare you, corn, for being so insidious and being in everything human beings eat and drink? I don't want to be mad at corn. I like corn. Especially when it's boiled with a bunch of crawfish. Which are born in ditches as far as I know. So that is obviously an acceptable grossosity to me. It's hard to decide what is acceptable and what is not.

It's a lot to process. I eat beef once in a blue moon. Hardly ever. Maybe three times a year. Including last night at my parents' house. And it was tasty, but it's just not my thing, unless it's my mom's famous roast. But I do eat dairy products and lots of them. And I eat a lot of chicken, and I eat a lot of eggs. I would really like to go cold-hard vegan, but I don't really know what that would solve for me. I don't want to start eating Boca burgers and fake-ass food like that. I know I could live without beef and chicken and possibly even shrimp though that would be hardest for me as I truly love shrimp. But I do not think I would do well without eggs and cheese.

I don't know. It's a lot to think about. I don't want to obsess about food, but I also want to. I want to know what I'm eating and really think about it and really savor what tastes good and is good for me. But I don't want drive myself crazy. I'd like there to be balance. I'm not sure how. As I was reading the corn section and contemplating the wrongness and badness of "processed" food and food pesticided and horomoned and chemicaled and antibioticed out the wazoo, I comforted myself by thinking, well, there's always Whole Foods. But then I got to the GRASS section. Which so far basically boils down to the fact that Whole Foods and everything sold under its roof is a big fat lie. And it galls me that I've never given much thought to trying to only eat produce that's in season and local hasn't been shipped from a million miles away. I want to be better about this, to do better.

I want to eat healthy things that don't harm my body or the earth. But what are those things? Seriously, what are we supposed to eat? I would really like to know.

(Still more days later ...) I can't seem to wrap this up! I bought a bike! My classmate was selling her gently used bike, a bike that looks like this. I have no idea if this is a good bike or a bad bike, but my sister and BFF tell me it is, and my classmate is nice and trustworthy, and it looks fine to me! My dad gave me his gently used helmet. I am ready to start really learning how to ride it even though I am kind of spastic and scared. This is not exactly a bike-friendly town, though some people are trying hard to make it more so.

Another weekend has gone by. So busy! Spent yesterday in French Quarter with my cousin, attending mass at the cathedral (banging gong drum in choir loft ... so crazy ... I loved it!), running through the rain to brunch at Muriel's, where we ate crawfish hash and crawfish crepes with goat cheese and drank mimosas and yum, and a couple of bars where we nursed family wounds and more mimosas and laughed and remembered. It was a drizzly but nice day. Early Saturday morning, I went biking, and it was very painful and I need some good padded biking shorts right away. Between the cars, bikers, and joggers (even at 7 a.m.) and the crippling nether region pain, I basically rode in constant fear of collision and death and permanent groin paralysis and only made it 3.6 miles. Biking is scary. But I have to learn, and I will!

I am very, very, very excited about Glee.

Meanwhile, some very sad things have happened to some of my friends, and I am thinking of them & love them very much.