recent conversations

I can give you all kinds of excuses for not writing.

For example: It's only January, and I've already spent 12 days living out of a suitcase -- which, if you consider today's date and do the math, is 43 percent of 2015 thus far. (You may want to double-check that number, though. Remember, I was an English major.)

My cats apparently really hate my schedule; they pooped in my bathrobe, which I did not discover until I tried to wear said bathrobe, and two turds came tumbling out. The cats also enjoy knocking the kitchen trash can over and spreading garbage all over the floor. And they seem to be using the contents of the litterbox for an avant-garde art project on the walls, water heater and wine refrigerator.

Look out, Damien Hirst.

During a recent trip to Walla Walla, I found myself explaining what a typical day is like for me: "I travel a lot. I train. And when I'm home, I spend a ridiculous amount of time cleaning up poop."

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What's shocking: When you review your planned workouts for the week and it suddenly hits you that you have a 70.3 coming up in less than three months. (Someone please remind me again why I signed up for New Orleans. Oh wait, I remember now: Sazeracs, fried food and that dive bar with the French doors and the woman who calls me "love.")

It's tough easing back into training. The travel doesn't help. But I do my best. Track last night, pool this morning. And apparently a double trainer ride tomorrow:

Me: "Do I really have two bike workouts in one day?"

Coach Mark: "Yep."

Me: "Sweet. More hot dogs."

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And finally, I ordered a (gluten-free, duh) pizza. And it took a very long time to arrive.

Cheap bastards.

And finally:

NOT RYAN GOSLING.

  

Seriously.

dinner theater

Hello from Eastern Washington, where I am hosting a wine writer for the week. Our dinner tonight was an adventure. Let's just say I can now cross "Watch extraordinarily drunk woman puke on the table at a nice restaurant" off of my life list. (I also saw her try to sleep on the table after barfing on it. And get dragged out of the restaurant by the two guys who were with her. And get followed to the car by a server carrying a trash can and her purse. And this all happened before 8 p.m.)

At least the food was nice.

Scallop!

Wagyu!

Gluten-free warm melty brownie thing!

You know you're a professional when watching someone hurl no longer affects your appetite.

keep on keeping on

You may correctly assume that since I am writing this post, I did not get lost in the shit room and die of starvation.

Instead, I tackled that beast.

Right???

It's far from done, but at least it looks like an actual room now. My plan is to get rid of that desk (which I've had since college), add another bookshelf, mount a TV on the wall and turn the whole thing into the most epic trainer room ever.

Which will be perfect, since riding outside right now is dumb. Last Tuesday, lured by the sunshine, I took Muppet out in 36-degree temperatures. About 10 minutes in, I was convinced I was going to lose my thumbs and end up one of those sad stories you see on Weather.com. Because even though I was wearing full gloves, the cold and pain was searing. I had to stop at a bike shop and buy two pairs of gloves (one of which was wool) and layer them. (And when I pulled my old gloves off to put the new ones on, my fingers were purple.)

And I was still so cold after the ride that I had to take a hot yoga class. (Haven't been to yoga in probably about two years. My balance was terrible.)

Anyway, here are some treasures I found while cleaning the shit room:

For the record: I don't even own a toaster.

Yes, that second one does say "Sex."

Still my favorite distance!

Other recent adventures included a walk on the beach on a very blustery day ...

(Isn't my Thermoball jacket cute? Thanks, The North Face!)

... celebrating Thai and Josh's gorgeous baby boy ...

Future Ironman!

(I cannot wait to meet him. I also can't stop buying adorable, small-human-sized outfits for him.)

... and of course, ringing in the New Year. 

Here's to 2015. Let's dream, let's travel, let's keep looking forward.

Onward!

holidays

My goal for the holidays: To clean my apartment so it looks like a real grown-ass adult lives here. However, I am currently doing everything in my power to avoid cleaning. Like repeatedly checking work e-mail, even though it's a holiday week and no one is e-mailing me. (Come on, guys. Can't you at least send me a cat video?) And sipping my green smoothie like it's a 2001 Sauternes instead of spinach. And making a baked potato and actually waiting for the oven to completely pre-heat before putting the potato in. Also, it's sunny in Seattle right now, and that's such a rare thing, so really I should be outside hiking around somewhere instead of cleaning.

And honestly, can you blame me for procrastinating?

Welcome to the vortex.

I refer to this as the shit room. It's where I throw random crap on the floor and shut the door so I don't have to deal with it anymore. It's quite possible there's an ex-boyfriend in there somewhere.

Too bad my 3-year-old nephew lives in Sacramento. He asked Santa for a real vacuum this Christmas.

So very Asian.

Hey, kid. You can come to Seattle any time you want. Your aunt has a lot of, um, activities planned for you.

Anyway, some other highlights from Christmas, which I spent in Sacramento with my family:

The gift that keeps giving.

Christmas Eve sausage party!

The theme was Meat, Lots of It.

See previous caption.

After all that, I had to get a workout in. And swimming in the California sunshine in a completely uncrowded pool is just so awful.

Happy holidays from my pig sty to yours. 

heart and courage

Those times when you listen to '90s R&B on the trainer and start singing "I'll Make Love to You" to the cat and then realize what you're doing and thank god you live alone.

Anyway, I have exciting news: Coeur Sports -- which makes triathlon, cycling and running clothing for women -- has chosen me to be a brand ambassador for 2015.

Sorry. I don't know how to make it bigger. TWSS.

I guess they saw my Ironman finish time and realized they'd have gotten 16-plus hours of advertising if I had been wearing their gear. Ha.

In all seriousness, though: I applied to be part of Team Coeur because I love my sport, because I strongly believe there's something powerful and healing about movement, because I find a metaphor in triathlon, in the act of enduring multiple scenarios, of moving forward, from one discipline to the next, dealing with whatever gets thrown your way.

"Heart and courage," as the Coeur motto goes.

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I went back to California this past weekend for Friend Christmas. Conversation ranged from why neck tattoos are a terrible life choice to all of the different options for birthing positions. (Remember, as I mentioned previously, Thai is very pregnant. And for some bizarre reason, Arvan knows a lot about midwifery.) We also talked about impossibility and how people spend so much time telling themselves they can't do something: "There's no way I can" or "That's just crazy talk" or "I'd totally fail."

I wonder: If you took all those no moments and used them instead to let yourself dream big, bold, downright scary dreams, what would happen?

Quite possibly the most epic game of Cards Against Humanity ever:

OK, maybe that's not the best example. But I think maybe you catch my drift.

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Speaking of the holidays, 2015 is right around the corner. And even though New Year's Eve is kind of a stressful experience marked by ridiculous pressure to have The Most Amazing Night Ever when the reality is the best nights are the ones that aren't planned, I am so grateful for the new start. It's been a roller coaster of a year, with a lot of really tough spots, and I'm eager for something a bit more cheerful.

This is what's on my Christmas wish list:

That's right: Hope, good company and a bit of bourbon. Because I did, after all, just register for Ironman Louisville.