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commence freakout

My plan was to go to bed early since I have to be at work at 4:45 a.m. tomorrow. (Yes, this is another project that involves a camera crew. Only this time I spend my day standing in a hot, dusty field, wearing a walkie-talkie and directing foot traffic. But it will be worth it in the end. And wearing a walkie-talkie is kind of cool. Trust me.)

Anyway, so I was about to go to bed. And then I checked my e-mail and saw this:


Let me just briefly list the reasons I am freaking out right now:

  1. Race day is less than two weeks away.
  2. I haven't done a single brick workout.
  3. In fact, I haven't run in three weeks. (Don't ask. Talking about not running makes me want to start crying.)
  4. Nor have I biked more than eight miles. (And when I did that, I rear-ended my friend at a stoplight in front of a lot of people and it was embarrassing.) And just for the record: Spin class doesn't count.
  5. I'm easily swimming the half-mile distance (and getting faster each time I do it), but I haven't done it in open water. With people kicking me in the face. And a whole wave of male triathletes threatening to swim over me if I don't get out of the way fast enough.
  6. I've developed a new (and ridiculous) fear: What if someone barfs during the swim and I swim into it? With my mouth open?
  7. Also, the triathlon participant letter included three pages of rules. If my brain hasn't already exploded from worrying about all of the above, trying to decipher exactly what it is I'm supposed to do on race morning (not to mention pack -- dear god, triathlons involve clothing changes!) is definitely going to make my mind spin.

Seriously: What was I thinking when I signed up for this?


And the whole time I thought the reason was an unstoppable river of poo flowing beneath the city.

what happened?

First, there was travel: The annual national sales meeting, which meant long days of presentations and workshops, followed by long nights of this:

However, I did get to introduce my co-workers to a real bowl of ramen.

Apparently, the kotteri miso from Kahoo is exactly what you need to cure a hangover.

Then there was Chicago, where I met this guy.

He's very serious.

I also ate a really good Scotch egg from Jam, drank Slovenian wine for the first time, fell headfirst into a heaping plate of buttery black truffle pasta and discovered the Southside (Oxley gin, mint, lemon and egg white -- yum).

Then: The triathlon. That’s right. You heard me. For some completely insane reason, I signed up for the Ukiah tri, which means I have about three weeks left to train. (Thank god, I finally just recently bought a bike. Isn’t she pretty?)

I feel like I spend every spare second swimming, obsessing over biking (note that I am not actually biking, since the bike is so recent that I don't even own a helmet yet, so I haven't actually ridden) or doing Pilates.

In other words, basically doing everything except running. In fact, I can't run right now.

Which brings me to the next issue: Injury. The rec fem thing has morphed into tendonitis, which has resulted in frustration, anger and tearful, mid-Pilates emotional breakdowns.

And I might have to defer New York because at this point, it looks like I'm only going to have 10 weeks left to prepare. And that's assuming I don't re-injure myself.

Putting on my brave face now.

the pre-race report

I know I am dragging out this race report, but I am still pretty surprised I finished SF. Some less-than-stellar decisions were made before I reached the start line.

Case in point: Bowling. On Friday -- the very first day my hip and rec fem actually felt better and I wasn't pain every time I stood up -- I thought it would be a good idea to hurl a 9-pound ball at a bunch of pins. (Don't laugh. I'm small. Nine is all I can handle.)

As you can see by my absolutely hideous form, this was a poor, poor choice. I aggravated my hip all over again. The worst part? My high score of the night was 52. So not worth the pain.

And then there was the night before the race. Neveia and I were sharing a hotel room, and we ended up having one of those heart-to-heart, god-I-have-the-best-friends-in-the-whole-world conversations. And before we knew it, it was after midnight. And our start time was 6:02 a.m. Oops. I think I got maybe three hours of sleep max before the race.

Thank god I had the sense to make some good choices too. First, there was the KT tape. I taped my hip flexor myself, and then a physical therapist at the expo taped my knee.

And then of course, I had to channel some cat power.

Because nothing says "tough" like a fat housecat tattoo.

and so we meet again, sf

So I ran SF after all. It was tough. I almost ended it with a DNF -- in fact, I was thisclose to dropping out at Mile 7.

Instead, I finished strong and knocked almost seven minutes off of my time from last year.

I'm too tired (and sore -- so unbelievably sore) to write a full report tonight (and go into detail about the near-DNF), but let's just say when it comes to a headstrong, stubborn girl vs. physical pain, the girl wins.

Especially when she's wrapped in a shitload of KT tape.