this is what insanity looks like

While you spent your Sunday watching football, eating nachos and drinking adult beverages with all of your best friends, I rode my bike and ran for almost eight hours. Eight hours. 

Sometimes I think this whole Ironman thing is really dumb.

Other dumb things I think about while I'm swimming, biking and/or running for hours and hours and hours:

• At least when there is a Seahawks game, I have the entire trail to myself.
• The real swimmers definitely take me seriously because I'm wearing an awesome metallic tiger print bathing suit right now.
• Peanut butter Hammer Gel is the best flavor ever. I could eat a tub of this stuff.
• Hey, squirrel. I dare you to dart in front of my bike. Remember, I stuffed your cousin and put her on my bookshelf.
• This is lap 17. Lap 17. Don't forget. Lap 17. What do I want to eat after this? Why is that guy doing the butterfly? How do you learn to do the butterfly? Shit, what lap is this?
• Is it possible for your head to literally shrink or expand from ride to ride? Because my helmet never feels like it fits the same way it did last time I got on the bike.
• I hope I don't look like I'm in pain. 
• Running in pouring rain is refreshing, swear to god. Now please don't let me get splashed by a bus.
• I don't know how people deal with significant others who are training for Ironman. Because if I were dating me, I'd call me a crazy bitch and file for divorce.
• Peanut butter Hammer gel again?! Why did I buy so much of it? Montana Huckleberry is so much better.
• It's amazing how you never truly forget all of the words to every song in "Beauty and the Beast." 
• Why isn't my heartrate monitor reading my heartrate? Am I dead?!
• Are we there yet?

Highlights from this weekend's insanity:

At Mile 14.5 of my long run, the heavens burst.

Fuel for the bike. (Dead serious.)

Ran to the paper crane statue at Peace Park.

Post-brick, wanting to eat the entire Greek Festival.

I'm at the point where I'm really, really tired. And there are so many water bottles all over my apartment, which happens to smell like a combination of giant cat turd and huge pile of sweaty laundry. And I can't stop eating. And I practically faceplant at 8:30 every night. And I actually did the thing I swore I'd never do this weekend and wore leggings as pants because the thought of wearing real pants made my body hurt and I went out to lunch like that and I was late to lunch because I had to do bike stuff first so I had to apologize for both my tardiness and my lack of pants.

Thirty-four days.