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I am a bad person

So I am in D.C. for work (which is so weird since my hotel is near Capitol Hill and last night was the night of the skinny repeal and I think if I see John McCain, I'd like to fist-bump him, which is something I never thought I'd want in my whole life), and I did a terrible thing this evening and forgot a paper bag of leftovers on the Metro.

And my heart broke when I realized it because the food was from my very favorite restaurant in the history of ever.

But perhaps more importantly in this day and age: God, I hope no one thinks it's a suspicious package and reports it and then the whole train system gets shut down and it will all be my fault because I dashed out the door and abandoned a carton of rice and stir-fried yellow beans.

Seriously, this dish is amazing, and I can't find it anywhere else.


just like goldilocks

When I left my apartment, I also left this behind.

No more taking an elevator downstairs to my very own lap pool that I hardly ever had to share with anyone. (Although when I did have to share, it was annoying because the pool was so narrow it would turn into a washing machine whenever you tried to split the lane. Also sometimes people would have parties and hang out on the deck and drink beer and look fabulous, and then I'd show up in a stupid swim cap and goggles and feel like the biggest dork in the world.)

Anyway, now I am on the hunt for a new pool. I'm trying to swim in as many different places as possible. Ideally, I want a pool that's close to either home or work, has convenient lap swim times and isn't crowded. (While I don't mind splitting a lane, circle-swimming stresses me out.)

I recently did a trial membership at the YMCA on Blaisdell.

The location is great -- close enough to work for me to squeeze in a swim on my lunch break. The pool usually has three or four lanes for lap swimming, and the second-floor women's locker room is adults-only, super quiet, clean and private. However, the water temperature is really warm. And while my lunchtime swims were nice and only required splitting a lane, I made the mistake of trying to swim on a Friday after work (because I thought everyone would be at happy hour), and the pool was so packed with screaming children who kept crossing into the lap swim lanes that the lifeguards had to interfere. And then on top of that, I had to circle swim. Ugh.

This week I'm checking out L.A. Fitness in Richfield.

I arrived at 6 a.m. today, and there was only one other person in the whole pool. I had my own lane for my entire workout. Good water temp, clean water and a well-maintained pool. I like the locker room too -- nothing fancy, but still comfortable, and the showers are a good size. And I was able to stop at home on the way to work, drop off my swim gear and grab something to eat. (Confession: I may or may not have had a frozen burrito for breakfast.)

I have to swim again tomorrow, and I'll probably try this pool.

Just kidding.

Although 4300 yards in that might be pretty entertaining.

congrats to me for not dying

Every Sunday night I think, Holy shit, I somehow survived another week of training.

Post-long run feels.

And this week was a big one -- 17 hours. And my race isn't until September. Which means this insanity is only going to get better. During previous Ironman training cycles, I never went over 16 hours. Coach Liz is pushing me into all new territory. It's scary, but it's pretty amazing because I'm doing things I never thought I'd do, and the more I do them, the more normal they seem.

Sort of like pooping in a port-a-potty -- at first you're freaked out, but then it becomes no big deal.

This is our driveway, btw. Outdoor pooping available any time.

home ownership and stuff

Because I want to see how many things I can possibly take on while training for Ironman, we bought a 92-year-old house, started remodeling it and moved in right when construction began.

I strategically placed this box so the mister would find it.

We're currently living in the basement with three cats, five bikes (and there are two more bikes in the garage, which also had a tree fall on it recently -- don't worry, the bikes are fine, but we did lose electricity for about 24 hours) and a shit-ton of boxes. It smells like a mix of cat poop and sweat, with a hint of dog from the pooch that lived here before us.

Thank god for homeowners' insurance.

There's a giant dumpster and a port-a-potty in the driveway. The upstairs has gaping holes in the floors where the radiators used to be, and there is a random toilet in what will one day, someday, be the guest room. People I've never seen before come in and out of the house, and one time I came home to a shirtless man with a shop vac.

I feel like everything is a massive cat death trap. Unfortunately, the cats feel like everything is a grand adventure and keep trying to sneak upstairs. The other day I nearly had a heart attack looking for Mouse. Turned out she had somehow gotten into the boiler room (that's right -- this house is so old we have a boiler room) and climbed up into a hole in the ceiling, next to a pipe that has been specially wrapped because it might have asbestos in it. (Yes -- asbestos!)

Dear god, I hope we all survive the next few months. (Also, I never should've read House of Leaves right before moving because now I suspect our house is trying to swallow us.)