everyone loves a good package

I came home from a work trip to New York (yes, the insane amount of travel continues) to find a package full of this:

My Team Coeur kit!

Of course, I immediately put these goodies to use. Because if I'm going to eat hot dogs wrapped in pancakes for post-run dinner (don't judge -- I've been traveling too much to go to the grocery store), I might as well do it with heart and courage. 

Also, the hat matches my bathrobe. And yes, that's the poop bathrobe.

And in case you are wondering, the kit is very good for carrying large ginger cats like they are infants. No chafing, and the top does not ride up. 

No angry kitty!

In all seriousness, though: I'm beyond stoked to be part of Team Coeur. And I can't wait to represent in New Orleans. The race becomes more and more real each day -- in fact, I had a brick workout today, and I have one again Saturday and another Sunday. And Coach Mark is pushing me in the pool -- lots of emphasis on sprinting and hard efforts. I still feel like a crazy person for having signed up for a 70.3 so early in the season, but a little insanity keeps life interesting.

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."

*

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."

*

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.