Item 22

of my 101 in 1001:

Run a 5K in less than 9 minutes per mile

now reads:

Run a 5K in less than 9 minutes per mile 27:30

I must add, I was pushing my 45 pound son in a stroller on a WINDY day.

When I PR, I do it in style.

 

Thanks a million (...tears)

I'd like to give my thanks the 60 something old man in the white convertible who slowed down to ensure I'd hear him yell "You're STUPID" while I was crossing the street.

You were that final drop that let me cry it all out.

Cry about not being pregnant again, for the 13th month in a row of trying.

Cry about fucking every single thing up this morning at work and having my new boss ridicule & belittle me.

Cry about being settled for the first time in life and then the Gods shaking that up and telling me to move.

Cry because I've been wanting to for weeks, but all these other little cracks in the damn weren't enough to take it down...

until on an already disheartening day that began at 4am...again...you vocalized how I've been feeling about myself.

One Reason...

...I love clay:

Recycling with my feet.

On! On!

Last Friday night
8:15pm - Gathering in the glow of a side street's lamp post, about 20 folks hovered, handing around a clipboard and studying enigmatic icons on the wall. A kitchen timer was set for 13 minutes, entrusted to a guy with a pocket, then activated before two women went scurrying in opposite directions. Dressed in black, saddled with packs & headlamps, the two met up a few blocks away, squatting at every intersection to mark up the ground with chalk. They wove through the hip urban sidewalk cafes, barged past tourists, and disappeared down a Ficus-lined street.

Just beyond the coral church, they unveiled the night's first cache: a keg of beer & cups. Looking at their watches with cups in hand, they were confident in their lead and agreed to slow their pace. They nodded to the late night dog walkers, even chattering & shuffling to appear harmless. Street after street, they laid the course in chalk: real trails with encircled arrows, false trails with frowns and checks backs with encircled plus signs. They ran past haunting old Florida homes with elaborate gardens, and Spring Breakers lost in the labyrinth of side winding avenues. Up ahead, they saw a familiar face...and the second table of supplies propped in a friend's yard: oranges slices, bananas, and more beer. By their 3rd cup, they had miscalculated their lead. In the very near distance, the pounding of 40 feet could be heard. A dozen flashlights could be seen turning the corner, descending on the two like a lynch mob.

For a half mile, the women sprinted, having only enough extra energy to scream once. They clung to their rattling bags and abandoned a fallen headlamp. With hearts pounding, they looked back to notice they were alone again. In order to keep that lead in the last mile, they had to slow the others down. Squatting, one drew a triangle and instructions for the hunters to sing. A little bit down the path, the other drew a triangle and directed them to sit for 60 seconds. The commands continued, back through town, past the singles bars, past the adult kickball league, past the random Spring Breakers handing out jello shots (why, yes, thank you, I would love one!), past the sailing club and the marina.

There they stopped. They wiped the chalk off their clothes, giggled about the adventure, swayed to the cover band on waterfront patio and waited for the hounds to buy them a beer.

capitulo siguiente

En quatro mas meses, decire adios a esta ciudad. Nos moveremos al centro de Tejas.

Miami Intl Triathlon

I had a crappy race. My first really crappy race.

It wasn't even goal induced (My aim was to "Not get last in my age" and I came in 8th out of 14). I started when I sensed their disorganization at early packet pickup and it came to a head when they announced they'd pushed back start time 35 minutes. I did not enjoy myself - it's a shame, because the course was beautiful.

I race because I love the excitement in the air; because being in the presence of superior athletes inspires me to push myself harder. I like checking out other people's tricks and hearing their stories. I like sipping out of little cups of water and pretending to pump myself up to cliche classic rock. I like waking up obscenely early and accomplishing something before my husband has even walked the dog. I like hanging my shiny new medal on my three year old when I get home and trading race stats with my friends.

What I don't like is paying for the beta race version. It was the inaugural race, so there were kinks to work out, but everything just seemed to rub me the wrong way...including the $90 entrance fee.

Early packet pickup - I arrived a half hour after it was supposed to be open. Son in tow, I drove 30 minutes to get there (pushing his nap time back so I could run in and grab the packet.) The packet folks arrived an hour after me...but they didn't bring the ankle chips. "Pick that up at the Expo" they said. (uh, what's the point of early pick up if I have to go to the expo anyway?) At Friday's Expo, they were going to charge me $5 to park (thankfully I knew the parking volunteer) then expected us to walk through abandoned area with broken glass everywhere. They advertised "Kids activities like face painting and bounce house" - nothing, just broken glass on the sandy shore. They excluded instructions explaining where all the numbers, etc go. I had to ask friend. Not much of a big deal, all this, but just slightly inconvenient. I skipped the Pasta Dinner because I just had a bad feeling it wasn't going to be worth the effort.

Race Morning - They switched parking lots from expo (okay, a little confusing, since part of the expo is casing out your "Race Morning Plan"), we had to park far away and pay $5 for it (school parking lot - not even a public/private parking lot - WTF? why not just put it on my race price of a gazillion dollars?). I'm glad I got there early since I hadn't expected the extra 10 minute pitch black walk.

I get to transition area at 6:15 am (first race at 7, my race schedule for 7:32,), I'm told I have 3 minutes to set my stuff and get out. Wha? The paper said transition area closes at 6:45! I have to rush to set up everything, get out and stand around in a jagged parking lot littered with broken glass for 45 minutes in just my suit? Not happy. I begged them to let me at least go back in and get my flip flops.

So then I realize there is no water ANYWHERE in waiting area - thank god I brought my own....oh, too bad it's locked up in transition area. Man, I'm getting thirsty. Maybe I'll just go wait in line to use the restroom to take my mind off of it. A girl comes out and says there is NO toilet paper in ANY of the 10 toilets we're waiting in front of....this is at 6:30. Okay, now I'm getting angry. Maybe I'll check out the ocean, get a few strokes in away from the start/finish. "GET OUT OF THE WATER." Alright, jerks.

I didn't eat that morning because I had it all timed out. Drink coffee pre-race, swim at 7:30, have first gu right after. It's what I do. 7am they announce my race has been pushed back to 8:05am...after the hot hot Florida sun has come up. Damn, I'm thirsty now. And I'll be hungry by 8, but my SNACKS ARE LOCKED UP IN TRANSITION AREA!!!!!!!

I'm done with the race before I even started. I was so dizzy and angry that I couldn't focus. Yes, I did better than expected, but I aimed way low. About as low as the Race Director.

Blogwise, this is what's on my mind....

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