Race Day!

This weekend I completed my first triathlon: a 1300 yard swim (downstream), 12 mile bike ride and 3.1 mile run. I did great in the swim and was the second woman out of the water in my heat. I actually ran to the transition site like a real triathlete. I pulled my wet suit off like a pro. This is cake! Then came the bike. Mountain bikes with knobby tires are not known for speed. Mountain bikes with 37-year-old novices are really not known for speed. I could gain on people on the hills but when it came to the downhill portion I was blown out of the water (so to speak). Then back to the transition area. The bike rack was full. A kindly gentleman who already finished his race took my bike for me and hung it up (yes - cheating slightly but hey I was hardly in the front of pack). Finally the run. I actually passed four people on the run. Four really really slow people but four people nonetheless. Of course a thirteen-year-old blew by me. Because of course they do that to you, to mortify you - your age is written in big black permanent marker on your calf. My age is still there today - after a shower and a trip to the pool with the kids. Three seven. I might as well have the word “dork” penciled in next to it and other things like “weekend warrior” and “holy cats am I sore today!”

At any rate I finished the race and under two hours to boot. Then hubbie and I went to look at road bikes. Because in my next race I want to have a road bike. Yes you heard me. My next race. When? Where? I do not know. I may be getting older but I’m not going down without a fight. This exercise has done me a world of good. My heart is loving it. Now if I can just find two-grand worth of change in the couch cushions...

Its 2:30 in the afternoon. I am tired. We went to a four-year-old birthday. We washed two of three dogs. Now I want to clean the kitchen, scrub the floors, wash down the chairs and tables and scour the pots and pans. I moved three chairs to the living room, cleaned them then saw my computer. I sat down and that was it. Fatigue. Always so much to do. So many self-made obligations. Planter beds to build. Things to write. Rooms to clean. Shots to get. Note to self - go get your allergy shots - today! Oh yes and go to the bank. But what do I really want to do? Nap. A nap would be wonderful. It would be perfection. But now I'm getting up. I'm going to gather my banking, stop for an iced latte and get my "pokes" over with. Then maybe I'll tackle the kitchen or the yard. Or, maybe, just maybe, I'll sit down for real and simply do nothing.

Danger, Danger

She’s over on the side of the house. The side next to the empty lot where the tall grasses grow. She wants to plant a vegetable garden. She’s already built one raised bed. But before it can be put into place she needs to pull weeds. She’s not technically pulling - she’s hoeing: goring the weeds at their roots and mercilessly ripping them from their homes. The hoe is working wonders. For the past week she had been picking the weeds by hand, one-by-one. Only weeds multiply, like a herd of rabbits; for every weed plucked three grow. Today she’s cleared nearly half the side yard. I’m nearly as smart as other primates, she thinks, me use tools.

But the hoe wasn’t entirely her idea. She had help. You see a cougar was spotted in the neighborhood sprightly chasing a deer through a neighbor’s yard. The hoe, therefore, serves two purposes - weeding and protection. Because, of course, it is dusk. As the world sinks into darkness and the wind whisks cool air over the junipers the temperature becomes once again bearable. A time to weed and a time to hunt. She has the cougar to thank for the hoe.

She is wary as she demolishes the undergrowth. She glances at the tall grasses dancing in the distance. Is it just the breeze? It occurs to her she has on the wrong outfit. Sweats with the word Juicy across the ass might be more appropriate. One tasty steak, right here, bending over for your perusal. Probably not quite the purpose of the pants but not really so far off mark.

And the little dog. The one barking in the driveway. He should have hors d’oeuvre branded on his side. A nice little start to the meal. Goes well with a fine chianti.

There is a cat in the empty lot. She can’t be seen but her whereabouts are easily determined by echolocation. A pair of blue jays flank her every move screaming four letter twitters in her direction. The cat seeks shelter with the woman and the two of them are dive bombed by the birds.

The cat, now safe, plops herself next to the empty lot for a bath. Hmmm, the woman thinks, Emmie didn’t get the memo. No one told her about the cougar; she could predator and prey. The cat glances casually at the birds and continues her grooming.

The woman begins to think of all the possible dangers: lightening, an errant car, a freak accident involving a hoe and a carotid artery. There are many many ways to die. It’d be nice not to know, to be unaware, to plop down in front of fear and take a bath. Because chances are nothing will happen. The worry would be for naught. And then one would be well-groomed and ready for the next adventure.

The woman surveys her plot of land. More than half the weeds are gone. I’ll take the danger, decides the woman, because without the danger I wouldn’t have grabbed the hoe. And without the hoe I'd still have weeds. And besides, if not for danger what would there be to blog about? Yes, everything is just as it should be. Just as it is.

Falling down on the blog

Hello blog. How are you? I'm sorry I've not been around. I've been busy. We took a little vacation. And the kids are out of school.

We also have swim lessons Monday thru Thursday. We spend a good three hours at the pool. Then we come home and complain about how bored we are. So so bored. There is absolutely and totally nothing to do. We are tired and grumpy and hungry and no we don't want to eat anything in the house and no we don't want to clean our rooms and no we DO NOT WANT TO READ A BOOK!

And then, of course, there is the little matter of employment. We remain employed. We should not complain. We are lucky to have jobs. Many others are not so fortunate. We should be effervescent - Hi Ho, Hi Ho! And yet it is difficult to feel perky when the alarm starts blaring on a holiday morning. Yes, yes. Woe is me. And yes I see that. Of course I know what it is. A tiny violin. Yes, I get it. Ha, ha. Such wit. Really you astound me.

Oh and though I've also been negligent in recording it, I'm still training for a triathlon. It takes place two weeks from today. Will I be ready? I sure hope so. I need to put on my wet suit and jump in the river. I'll have to swim around the teenie boppers floating on their rafts; string bikinis struggling to cover their adolescent flesh. Hopefully these lacksidazical youth won't bludgen me thinking Nessie has come to America.

So, dear blog, you've been ignored as has flickr. I am an equal opportunity ignorer. Don't take it personally. I'll be back soon. I promise.

All my love, Me