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I can't even

Recently I wore the nightshirt my favorite aunt gave me for Christmas.

Of course I cropped my face out of this photo. Duh.

It says: "How to Sleep with a Cat." And illustrates all of the different poses.

And then I realized I will probably never have sex again in my entire life. (Please note the nightshirt is so bad that even the cat didn't want to be photographed with it.)

Also, just for good measure, today I found out I have to get a fake tooth. I went to the dentist and told him the story about the time my face battled a bathroom sink and how one of my front teeth has since become a weather barometer. He looked at X-rays and discovered a crack across my tooth and the start of an infection at the root. And he said I could get a root canal, but I would probably still end up losing the tooth anyway, so I should just go to an oral surgeon and get the whole damn thing pulled out and put an implant in.

"But other than that, everything looks fine!" he said.

Right. Because people who are "fine" sleep in the world's ugliest nightshirts and have fake teeth.

bike camp

Tonight I called my dad to tell him about my weekend, and he talked to me about his poo for 10 minutes. He told me that you can, indeed, break a plunger. And that he worries about the amount of water he wasted trying to flush the toilet when California is in a drought. And then he asked me if it's OK if he goes to the gym not to work out, but to shower there instead of at home, since he already used his water allocation for the day.

And you wonder why my brain is the way it is.

Anyway, let's talk about my weekend and how awesome my tri team's women-only bike camp was.

I packed sleeveless kits. Because the weather was just that good.

The house we stayed at sat right on the Columbia River.

And we rode around Lake Chelan.

Isn't it hideous?

I have so much love for these ladies.

Best part of triathlon = The friendships.

My friend Amy (who's next to me in the black tank top) said it best at dinner Saturday when she described the group as bright, humble, supportive and girly, but strong, tough-as-nails athletes who work hard for what they want. It's inspiring to be around these women.

It's also inspiring to see a hill and want to go up it instead of around it. And to look back on where I was at this time last year and realize how far I've come since. I rode faster, climbed better and went longer this year. (Apparently, I'm also a Daft Punk song.) True, part of this may have been the 11-28 cassette, but I'm viewing my old 12-25 as a bad relationship -- you think you have to put up with it for so long and tell yourself it will be OK if you can just try harder, but the second you ditch it, you realize there is more to life out there. (I know, right? You're welcome.)

Hooray for gearing!

Hooray for going out way too hard on Day 1!

Hooray for Day 2 and pretending like my hips aren't killing me because I went out too hard!

Hooray for attempting McNeil Canyon on Day 3 despite hips and fear!

Other bike camp highlights:

Recovery Pump boots, Doritos and Coach Mark's potato salad.

There was also a hot tub. And a fire pit. And s'mores. 

But the very, very best part:

Yes, that is a BUCKET OF FRIES. And there is nothing better in the whole entire world than finishing a good ride with good people and ordering $10 worth of salty goodness.

Don't worry. I shared. We're a team, after all.

I need a mental health day

I recently went from this ...

Red is the color of shame. And also a lot of wine.

... to this.

It's been great -- I really don't feel like myself unless I'm training -- but absolutely exhausting. I spent a good portion of my weekend on the bike. On Saturday there were hill repeats (which, by the way, are my least favorite activity ever, except for maybe spending all afternoon barfing in an airport) ...

Pain never looked so pretty.

... followed by a swim. Then yesterday brought a 2.5-hour ride with a transition run.

Don't worry. This wasn't a permanent fashion choice.

As a result, I've had such horrible post-workout brain fog that on Saturday when I finished the ride, I packed my bike, left my Garmin on the roof of my car and drove off. Thankfully, I realized what I had done and went back, and by some miracle, a random cyclist found my watch on the side of the road ("The sun was shining right on it!" he said) and gave it back to me.

And since I'm apparently too dumb to learn from my mistakes (insert dating joke here), after yesterday's workout, I went to the tri store to buy Skratch and a new cassette (went from 12-25 to 11-28 because have I mentioned how much I hate hills and dear god, please bring on the cheater gear), got work done on my bike, packed it in the car and drove off. Two hours later, the woman from the tri store called to tell me I had left the Skratch and my old cassette in the parking lot. 

Dear lord.

pull my zipper

So I got a new wetsuit.

And I spent a good portion of my evening attempting to try it on but failing miserably.

The downside of having three cats as roommates (besides cleaning up their poop and vomit all the time and chasing them with a spray bottle while yelling "No!"): There's no one to zip up your brand-new wetsuit for you. Which makes it really hard when you can't figure out if the wetsuit is too small or if you just didn't put it on right.

My lower back kind of hurts now from my unsatisfying solo zipper-pulling efforts.

(And yes, I wrote that sentence that way on purpose.)

Wait, it gets better.

This is the part where I cut off my feet and wait for the search party to find me, right?

And you wonder why I don't have my pro card.

happy easter indeed

Best Easter ever. I woke up and there was no cat puke next to the bed. And then I took Muppet for a ride outdoors in the sun. And then I met Annie for brunch and ate spicy pork sausage congee.

I may or may not have still been wearing padded shorts during this.

And then I spent time with my boss's family.

Don't worry. My boss's family consists of human beings. His mom just happens to have the most epic collection of creepy dolls I have ever seen in my entire life. In other words, she is my hero.

Also, I colored a cow.

And ate a ton of post-Easter dinner truffle fries because it makes complete sense to polish off a giant holiday meal and then immediately go out and eat more food.

Epitome of maturity.

I just hope my boss still lets me hang out with his family even after I told his 8-year-old son about how people sometimes have a growth on their arm and when they go to the doctor to get it removed, they find hair and teeth inside because -- dun dun dun ! -- it was their secret twin.

why we run

Those times when you find yourself in a big hotel room in a teeny-tiny coastal Washington town and the blackout curtains are drawn and the bed is warm and you really just want to ignore the alarm and roll over and go back to sleep, but instead you get out of bed and you run.

And after you get over the shock of thinking this guy is a real person with a staring problem ...

Quit judging me, Hamie.

... you remember exactly why it is you love running. Because without running, you would never see this ...

... or get so close to a new friend.

Clearly no one told him about the taxidermy.

You wouldn't climb a hill and find this view on one side ...

... and this view on the other.

You wouldn't discover the world's cutest trash can ...

... and find your happy place.