I am a triathlete

One race completed counts for the title right?

Ok Good.

199 ready to race

By the numbers:

1- Swim – You can do anything you put your mind and effort into.

2- Bike – Strangers are kind – especially in the running/biking/tri community.

3- Run – Be proud of yourself.

I likely will have a great deal more to say and feel regarding my first triathlon experience but it has been an incredibly overwhelming weekend of firsts and I just simply don’t have all the words right now.

Here is what I do know…

Any haters on this amazing group of athletes that I’m now so proud to BE IN, can suck my big left stinky-vibramed toe.

(2) Triathlete for a Cure

Jen is a cancer survivor and triathlete (who won her age group on Sunday) racing in 50 states before her 50th birthday to raise funds for ovarian cancer research. Ladies, go for info, continue to get tested and be aware. Everyone, every little bit helps so please if you have $5 or more, a tweet or FB post to spare, donate to this worthy cause.

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Blue Haired Freak

I come home and my sister says “You just couldn’t resist could you?”

Nope.

Blue Highlighted Hippie Chick is back. Under the deft hands of my new favorite solo-business woman, I once again have purpley-blue peekabolites. 

Intentional enjoyment accomplished.

Going blue

Hair Dye

I’d say it is a social experiment. I’d say it is a quarter-life crisis. I’d say it is just a phase. It is probably all three plus a healthy dose of joie de vivre.

It is a celebration that it is my head and my choice what to put there. I otherwise have long, straight, brown boring locks. I’d rather spice it up a little. Why in earth’s blue orbit not?!

I don’t have a corporate job to worry about. I’m not interested impressing anyone who would be put off by it. And damn it, the touches of blue make me smile when I look in the mirror. 

It is fun bordering on effing awesome (like arms full of tattoos but with less permanence). What IS effing awesome is that I can do it – be in the persona of the blue haired freak — until it stops being fun. Then I can do something else.

My first time [Read more…]

How Your Genius is a Bad Wingman

...take a break...it's Tuesday!I like to observe bar behavior. I find endless amusement from the corner of whatever local I find myself. I’ve witnessed much in the way of the mating dance both towards and apart from me.

We need to stop trying to throw game, start enjoying more and be our own best selves.

My new puttypeep friend The Gutsy Geek and I have had some exchanges of late on dating advice and tips. The “neg” is a post in and of itself – I hate that behavior and will expound another time on the greater whys.

Suffice for now, “the neg” is indicative of what is wrong with having a dating or pickup agenda: it is a blatant tactic.

Tactics to connive your way into accomplishing an arbitrary agenda have no place in dating. Tactics have no place anywhere interpersonal relationships are concerned.

What is the difference then between tips and tactics? I’m glad you asked my dear reader.

Let us enter the realm of advice.

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Enjoying the weight of too much

(or: My Attempt to Write a Post Under 1000 words)

I will try to be short because I am short on time. I’m sure you are too.

July 4th "Stream Construction Kit"There have been many jobs in my life where there are not enough minutes in the hours to complete what I need get done but rarely have I felt that when not working for someone else. I find myself now in that blissful state.

Yes, it is frustrating and overwhelming and fatiguing. It is also invigorating, motivating and satisfying.

I have entirely too much to do

How much better than the alternative is that? Instead of sitting around, listless and dull, we can have 20 projects to work passionately on. Ok, doing taxes maybe not so much on the gets-my-fires-stoked scale but they all can’t all be soul a’light experiences.

The project due date, the 46 open browser tabs, the writing deadline, the huddle, stack of books, chat, email, artistic project, self imposed deadline in an hour — make that 54 minutes– all of them vying for attention in the crowded stage of our minds.

The cacophony is grand.

Too many is better than not enough.

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Respecting Our Limits

On Sunday I loaded up my bike and braced myself for a cold, wet, misery-inducing 45miles.

Nelly Nero Grunge BW Action

The “Ride for Rick” was a long-scheduled charity event for a local cyclist battling cancer. He sadly lost his fight and passed away last week. The ride and fundraiser BBQ, was more somber but still held to raise funds for his outstanding medical expenses and show southern community support for his widow and daughter.

I thought the least I could do was brave a little weather and show up.

I expected (hoped) that maybe the ride would be canceled. I was planning my gym workout as I pulled into the lot. A clutch of men in rain-gear, already astride their steeds, dispelled my dry daydreams.

Ok. Let’s do this.

After barely 5miles I wasn’t at all sure I could. I was desperately wishing that I had been one of the smarter ones that chose the shorter 26mile route, stayed warm at home, or waited til later in the day…

I wanted to be anywhere, doing anything rather than pumping with rivulets of water running down my glasses from above, getting sprayed in the face by the wheel in front of me, losing feeling in my pruning toes, muscles aching with effort after too much at the gym the night before and in all attempting to keep pace with the only others doing the long route —  three much stronger men.

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