Kevin's Race Report

LET ME FIRST SAY THAT MY GOAL HERE WAS TO ABSOLUTELY CRUSH MY TEAMMATES. I DID NOT CARE IF THEY EVEN FINISHED UPRIGHT. I WANTED TO BEAT THEM, AND BEAT THEM BAD. KEVIN.

[BTW, the above was not written by Kevin. Chuck is going to miss the "administrator's edit" function]

OK, I am going to be the first to write post race simply because I have no pictures. That's right. None. Why you ask? Well, as my teammates can now clearly attest, sometimes Kev's head is squarely up his ass. But I digress. Here's my story...

Packed up and shipped out Friday for a pleasant flight. Tasha, Annette, Max and myself were all on this flight together. Sitting still for 4 hours plus sucks, but in anticipation of what we were in for, it was worth it. Landed in Oakland and a short cab ride later, we arrived at the Argonaut Hotel near the Fisherman's Warf and just a stroll down from the start on race day. Nicely planned, Chuck. The rooms were nice and having brought my own air mattress since there were 3 of us, I hit the floor. Chuck, I did notice the look of disappointment on your face when I said I'd rather sleep on the floor than with you. I'm sorry if your feelings were hurt. I thought it would take away from the race weekend experience if we woke up all spooning and cuddled up together ala Steve Martin and John Candy in "Planes, Trains and Automobiles".

"Where's your other hand?"
"In between two pillows, why?"
"Those AREN'T PILLOWS!"

Flat out, San Francisco is beautiful. The hills, the scenery, the colors, the water, beaches, bridges, Alcatraz... all really cool. I took it all in. So much so that at the end of the first day I was falling alsleep with my double Sambuka in front of me around 9:30. Glad I could provide you with the entertainment, team.

So exactly when did my head get lodged assward you ask? Well, #1, I forgot my camera at home. While I remember it every other moment, like taking the kids to the park, or family get togethers, do I remember to bring it on the once in a lifetime race/trip? of course not. Screw up #2... The Borat suit was to be shipped directly to the hotel, which it was, only to be sent back the same day by the hotel since my name was not on the guest registry. The room was in Chuck's name, and rather that hold onto a small package that would take up minimal space for a freakin day, they sent it back. So... no pictures of Kev in the promised Borat suit, though I will make up for it here in Chicago. Seeing as how the race coincided with San Francisco's Gay Pride weekend, I was not terribly diappointed that this mishap caused a rescheduling. Screw up #3... Tasha thoughtfully bought horns for everyone in the spirit of good fun. While i tended to everyone else's bike with the tools I brought from home, I totally forgot my Elmo horm and name plate to mount onto my bike. My appologies, Tasha. It was not intentional. Thus, on race day when Annette and Heather signaled to me on the bike course with thier hysterical sounding horns, and smiling at me much like the special ed kids do when being let outside to play on a warm, sunny day... I had nothing. Nothing but a smile and a wave and a breathy, "Woooho! Way to go!" Paultry, at best. Screw up #4. Kevin needs to look at the race course map before the race and know how many loops of whatever to ACTUALLY do. I missed a loop on the bike, resulting in a fantastic race to end with a DNF. Had I actually done that final loop I would have placed around 7th in my class. Not too shabby. Regardless of results, it was a great day with a spectacular view.

But back to the race start.

Hearded down the street in neoprene is always a good time. All 700 of us boarded the 2 ferry's that would take us to the start line after a good 1/2 mile walk, which got us nice and sweaty and provided a fantastic base for the chaffing that would come as a result. The racers on the ferry were a fun combination of seasoned vets and those who looked like they were about to hurl based on the looks on some faces. There was one guy near me who started to have a panick attack. I gently punched him in the gut, told him not to be such a big pussy, and to suck it up or I would call his mommy. No, not really... Actually everyone was really really cool and very encouraging of one another... so panick boy got back pats and shoulder rubs from racers around him, and he settled down quickly. I later saw him on the water and he was doing fine.

The swim was relaxed and I don't think we could have asked for a better day to do it. Ever mindful of sharks and other large things in the water, I was made a bit more nervous by the fact that you can really only see about 6 feet around you. That water is dirty. My heightened senses played a nice trick on me as at one point in the race I swam into a large clear pastic trash bag and just about crapped my wetsuit. "Holy... WTF is that!?" Phew... "just" a trash bag. In the the middle of the bay...

Transition 1 was smooth, and the 2.5 mile run to transition 2 seemed longer probably because it was straight and flat. The hills on the bike were killer, just killer. 3-5 mph going up. 40 mph coming down. It was in a fast decent on the backside downhill that I caught a large group and got flagged into transition with them. Its my fault for not knowing to do 3 loops, but a sign would have helped, too. Oh well.

The run was awesome. I would have liked to do that as a walk only becuase there were so many great sights. Golden Gate Bridge, the mountains, Alcatraz, Devils Island, The Bay, the trees, the homes in the hills, the beach, some naked guy on the beach (I did not see but seems most of the girls did), the cliffs we ran along. Awesome. Turned out to be a trail run, which made me miss Xterra this year, but overall an awesome experience. The sand ladder was tough, but not devastating. I finished the run strong, tapering up into a quick 6 miles and finishing strong. Wish I had just done that last loop on the bike.

Thanks to my team for making this a really fun and positive experience. We enjoyed many many laughs together, and I learned two very very important things. #1 - The proper term for that place in the male brain where lustful thoughts are kept for "later" is called the 'spank bank". Thank you MTV for that. Also a very big thanks to Dr. Chris - Heather's husband - who explained #2 - the orthopedic reasoning behind my love of women in high heels. Apparently, to adjust for positioning, the lower lumar region is jutted back thus forcing women to "throw thier ass out there". This was very helpful. Thank you again Dr. Chris. And thank you also to the many family and friends who thought of me and wished me well in the bay and barraged my cell phone with calls and text messages. It felt great to have your love and support.

This experience was a blast. I would do this again in a heartbeat. Most of all, I would encourage anyone reading this to get out to SF and try this. Maybe one day you'll be able to tell your kids and grandkids you "escpaed the Rock" too.

and we're off ...

2 days, 4 hours, 20 minutes, 20 seconds til the gun

Here I Come to Save the Day!

Or at least to save you, gentle reader, eagerly and breathlessly anticipating these last days of worry and preparation in a fun-to-read blog format........from being subjected to an endless dialogue between Abbott and Costello here, debating time zones and seconds and minutes and so on. Who cares? Death by frigid Bay water will be here soon enough - no sense asking for whom the bell tolls, or whatever you two clowns are doing. I say that with affection, of course.

Anyway, where were we? Oh yes, the life and times of Schleprock.






June 2nd – Tri-Shark


Suffice it to say that I suck less. I think this is what people actually say to me – “Hey Tasha, you sure sucked less this time around, huh?” I’m okay with that. I do have to give full credit to Precious though – the difference between dealing with D-POD and a lighter bike that ACTUALLY SHIFTS (this still amazes me, as you can tell), is astonishing. Based on this, I’ve decided to incorporate similar principles into the rest of my training plan, so I’ve started swimming with a car tire around my neck, and running while dragging rebar behind me. On race days, I’ll fly like the wind. In the meantime, D-POD sits in my garage, untouched. Sulking. Brooding. Scheming. I can sense it.

Friday, June 8th

Today I head out to do Tomato SeedlingTransport to a friend who has a B&B with her husband in southern Wisconsin – I figure I’ll get a bike ride in at the same time. Of course, the wind picks up as soon as I set out – this seems to be a recurring theme. After many turns and going far more miles than I was instructed, I realized that I somehow must have missed the “Miracle Hot Springs” or whatever the heck they’re called. Maybe it was an artesian well. Maybe this is my problem – I forget what I’m looking for. At least on the way back to their place, I have a marker: a huge turbine windmill that can be seen for miles around. I’ve been warned about the hills going back since they’re all uphill, but I zip up them pretty easily. Hey, could I possibly be getting in shape? No. The answer to that would be no.


Tuesday, the 12th – Biking the Bavarian Route

Out in Huntley, I head to the one stretch of hilly road to do my usual hill repeats. Boring as it may seem, I don’t mind this particular stretch of road, because there’s always something new and fascinating to ponder. A patch of yellow buttercups, whether or not the psycho shortcutting commuters will actually pay attention to the “blind hills” signs, the different levels of suckage involved in biking, whereby I put headwinds in the middle and false flats at the top. And then shortly past the llama farm, there’s what I think of as the abandoned Bavarian ghost Village. It’s a huge stretch of land, clearly unused for years, that still has various little buildings on it, though fewer than last year when I was riding out here. In surveying the decay, I like to ponder what might have caused this stalwart Bavarian clan to pick up and leave behind the little community that they carved out of the harsh Illinois prairie – perhaps the cheese was not to their liking, when compared to that of their homeland?

On the other hand, the place does look like it might have once been a kiddie amusement park of sorts, and I suppose with a big stretch of the imagination, the Bavarian chalets and chateaus could have been structures for mini-golf. As perhaps could be the windmills. Shrug. I guess we’ll never know.

Codicil: After doing some research (naturally, my faithful readers think), I discovered that indeed, sometimes truth is stranger than fiction. Behold, the truth behind the Bavarian Village, aka “Shireland.” http://shireland.tripod.com/index.htm

Quoted from a website about the man himself, who made his fortune in spray-paint can technology:

“Shireland opened on May 28, 1988. The park was 111 acres, included a 68,000 square foot circus tent and four 10,000 square foot exhibit tents. Smrt maintained that Shireland was a "completely original family adventure that will include a zoo, a circus and a county fair all wrapped into one". Smrt said that Shireland never attempted to compete with Great America, with its "high speed, gravity-defying rides". Instead, it was supposed to deliver a message of good conquering evil. He is quoted as saying "Some children today aren't allowed to enjoy their childhood without violence, drugs and other 'dragons' infringing on their dreams". With its musical show "Of Dragons and Dreams", Shireland attempted to deliver a positive message to kids.”

Sometimes......even I can’t make this stuff up.

While this mecca of enjoyment was only open one full season, that halcyon year of 1988, what’s great is that instead of selling his parcel of land to greedy developers, Smrt just picked up and left town, and left it all there. For the last SIXTEEN YEARS. Thomas Smrt, wherever you are, and even though your last name could use a few more vowels – I salute you.

The other great things about the Bavarian Route is that there are built-in snacks. No, you cretins, not the Slurpees at the gas station/convenience mart somewhere past the last hill. I’m talking about berries from all the wonderful mulberry trees along the road. In my usual fashion, I tell myself I can stop to pick some berries after every out and back. Which I do. Best. Berries. Ever. Though I almost sense the jealousy emanating from the cars that come whizzing by on occasion, using this road as their shortcut, as they see me with my bike at my side as I take a leisurely berry break on a nice sunny day. Rough life, I know.

It occurs to me that I wish I could gather some extra berries for my mom, and I sadly think how nice it would be if my bike had a little basket, for just such occasions. What a waste......hmm......

15 minutes later I’m happily on my way, with my precious cargo of mulberries safely stowed away in my Bento box, full to the brim.

Next up: the write-up you’ve all been waiting for, i.e. the HHH, aka the “What kind of damn crazy fools are you people anyway?” ride.

... however ...

Yes, that's right. My bad. I actually now remember setting it for 7 am PST/9 CST as a normal start time guess. While the time change makes the countdown end at 7 am PST, I must note that we are actually supposed to be at transition by 630 am PST, meaning that while you have countdown PLUS 1:45 til race start, you have countdown MINUS 0:30 until we have to be there.

Those things called time zones...

I'd like to thank Chuck for scaring the masses and letting them think they have 15 less minutes to prepare for their adventure this Sunday. It has occurred to me that the countdown is based on Central Time, whereas the race being out in San Fran is most likely on Pacific Time.

So there you go ladies and gentleman, like that, I’ve gained you two hours, however, it’s only 1:45 after captain spoilsport decided to be a bearer of bad news.

Now that you have over 100 extra minutes, you can spend them however you’d like, be it fretting about the sharks and sea lions nibbling on your toes, suffering frostbite in the frigid arctic waters, or perhaps suffering heatstroke in anticipation of the 40,000 step sandladder…

Oh, you’re welcome!

disregard this post

we were experiencing technical difficulties

EGREGIOUS ERROR !!!

I just realized that the countdown timer is counting down to 9:00 am. Since our race is 8:45, you need to SUBTRACT 15 MINUTES from whatever the timer says. I hope this does not affect your strict training regiments or add any (additional) angst.

i'm baaaaaack.....

Hey everyone,

havent posted anything on here in a long time since summer started, works been extra busy. Just got back from Bonnaroo 2007, THE POLICE were great, glad i got to see them. Will post some pics from the trip later on.

Now back to training this week, will do lake swim tomorrow early am if anyone is interested and maybe once more during the week.

Carolyn, thats the bike i have and lets just say that THANG can fly, so good luck trying to catch up!!!!

Italian Tomato Garden - Friday joke

An old Italian man lived alone in the country. He wanted to dig his tomato garden, but it was very hard work as the ground was hard. His only son, Vincent, who used to help him, was in prison. The old man wrote a letter to his son and described his predicament.

Dear Vincent,
I am feeling pretty badly because it looks like I won't be able to plant my tomato garden this year. I'm just getting too old to be digging up a garden plot. I know if you were here my troubles would be over. I know you would be happy to dig the plot for me.
Love, Dad

A few days later he received a letter from his son.

Dear Dad,
Don't dig up that garden. That's where I buried the bodies.
Love, Vinnie

At 4 a.m. the next morning, FBI agents and local police arrived and dug up the entire area without finding any bodies. They apologized to the old man and left. That same day the old man received another letter from his son.

Dear Dad,
Go ahead and plant the tomatoes now. That's the best I could do under the circumstances.
Love you, Vinnie

Very Exciting!!!

My husband, Webber, just got his new bike!!! He is just getting into triathlons and didn't have a road bike, so this is his first road bike and he is very excited! I'm a little nervous because I think he might be faster than me now that he will be on something other than a mountain bike! For those of you that are doing Firecracker in July, you will see him there on his bike as that will be his first tri!!





Here is the beauty! An Orbea Onix! Thanks to Kevin at Get A Grip Cycles!!!!

P.S. I'm a bit jealous!!!

The Unbearable Lightness of Biking

Friday the 27th, the most Glorious Day EVER in the history of mankind

After going for a swim in the arctic Lake Michigan, I head over to Bridget and Colleen’s to check out my potential loaner bike. I’m a bit cautious, having been burned before, and having a tendency to form quick judgments that assume goodness, giving the benefit of the doubt, and then being horribly wrong. I walk into their place, and in spite of my wariness, upon first seeing the Orbea, I gasp.

“Oooooooooh.......she’s.......she’s beautiful,” I say, practically swooning. Though attempting to look demure, my new bike is clearly a force to be reckoned with: a sleek, all-black warrior goddess, ready to shred up other cyclists as she stealthily slips past, leaving them all eating dust. Ready to ride like a bat out of hell – but the good kind, not the place D-POD inhabits.

We set her up, make adjustments, and Colleen urges me to take a spin around the block. I’m grinning as I return.

“She’s perfect,” I purr, lightly petting her top tube. “There, there sweetie,” I coo, “it’s okay, I’ll have you home again soon.” Clearly it was only through some cosmic error that we were cruelly separated, as this type of instant bonding doesn’t happen at whim. Bridget joins us in the parking lot behind their building.

“So,” she begins, “I was thinking......” Bridget stops suddenly, realizing that she’s speaking to a vapor trail, since I’ve already tucked my newly named Persephone (nickname: Precious) into my car and am long gone. As if I have time to stand around and chatter all day – there’s biking to do!

Monday, Memorial Day

The girls and I head out to Huntley for a long bike ride and then to barbecue at my mom’s. When we meet up out there, Bridget asks me if I’ve had a chance to ride Persephone, and I giggle. “Which day?” I ask. A historical note: during our ride, this is the first time ever that I’ve ever actually been asked to slow down while on a bike. The mind reels.

After our ride, I carefully place Precious away from everyone else’s bikes, safe from sudden movements and ham-handed oafish attempts by Other People to “check her out.” Hmph. As if. It’s when I’m putting the customary covering of bubble wrap around her that Bridget first starts to look a little worried. What, as if everyone doesn’t do this? Please. What kind of cretin doesn’t protect their own bike from wayward elements? I explain this to Bridget, whose brow is now starting to look permanently furrowed; I’m not sure why. Suddenly, Annette decides to check out my beautiful new bike, and starts walking over to her.

“Be careful!” I bark. “Don’t jostle my Precious; she’s not made of steel, you know.” Hmm, there goes Bridget with the brow thing again.

“Oh,” I continue, “I mean BRIDGET’S Precious, of course,” and smile disarmingly, breezily, reassuringly.

“Umm,” stammers Bridget, “that is....well....I...I might need a spare bike after all for.....for......the Beater Bike Classic – yeah, that’s it.....” she blurts out, with a crevice so deep across her forehead that you could probably find the Yeti in there.

Damn. Clearly I need to work on my falsely reassuring grin.

“I swear, anytime you want your bike back....” I trail off, with a chipper smile plastered on my face, speaking in what’s meant to be an encouraging manner so that Bridget can fill in the blanks with some appropriate kind of pablum, and so that I don’t have to speak the truth: good luck someday prying Precious from my cold dead fingers.

Later, we’re loading up the cars to head back into the city, and Annette winds up lurking dangerously close to Precious, apparently in some misguided attempt to help secure her to the car.

“Hullo!” I shriek. “Huzza.....What...wha.....” (I am practically speechless, sputtering)... “you were dangerously close to grabbing her stem with callous indifference! Please, a bit of care!” I say, wide-eyed and aghast. I finish on a slightly menacing, cautionary note, “You don’t want there to be repercussions, do you?”

Annette takes it all in stride, with that nonchalant, happy-go-lucky “g’day mate” South African attitude of hers, but Bridget looks a wee bit pale.

“Umm, Bridget, do you think you might be coming down with something?” I inquire, concerned. Poor dear should probably see a doctor – that nervous tic in her eye has really just come out of nowhere.

9 days, 23 hours, 10 minutes

ugh

Still Life With Tasha

Post-Galena.....

Sunday, the 22nd

Needless to say, I do not go biking today. D-POD has been sequestered in a corner, as far away from the other bikes as possible. Is it possible for a bicycle to brood and scheme? Oh yes.

Tuesday the 25th

I decide it’s time to hit the frigid waters of Lake Michigan, breathing issues and coughing-up-blood notwithstanding, so I set off to join Colleen’s CrazyFriendLinda, who swims on a regular basis off Promontory Point, near the U of C. I’ve also switched back to my original wheel on D-POD, and am certain that this’ll bring things back to “normal” – in the loose sense of the word where that damn bike is concerned. Luckily Bridget the Wonderful is going to loan me her Orbea, which is currently in transit from Connecticut. In the meantime, there is training to be done, so D-POD it is.

I get to the Point at 6:10AM, a bit late but figuring that since they’re starting at 6, surely they’ll still be swimming. Only to see Linda and her friend out of the water and toweling off. Apparently at this point in the year, their swim consists of a brief 25 yard jaunt. I guess when you don’t wear wetsuits (read: are totally insane), that makes sense. Okay, so much for the swim – but I can still go for a bike ride along the south part of the lake path. Ha, so there! No one puts Baby in the corner!

5 minutes later – okay, so apparently D-POD took the wheel changing thing as license to become totally fucked up and unleash his fury on the world – or maybe just on me. He now not only doesn’t shift properly, but also shifts at whim. On HIS schedule. When HE feels like it. This would be great if I had an intuitive, happy bike which sensed when I needed to shift and did it for me....but no, D-POD is nothing like that, and will shift into a silly gear when I’m busting ass to make it through a light. Bastard. I decide to head home, and when I’m making my way back, stuck in traffic, I realize this sad fact: today I spent more time commuting to my workout than I did actually working out.

Thursday, the 26th

The end is near. D-POD’s end, that is. Tomorrow I’ll get to check out Bridget’s lovely Orbea, which can only be an improvement. But because I need to get a ride in, I decide to take D-POD for his swan song ride out in the flatlands of Huntley. After all, if I don’t have to shift, how bad can things get?

Later

So the winds have rapidly picked up, and they’re talking about 45-50 mpg gusts today, with a high wind advisory. Out here in the prairie, the effect is exponential, to the extent that when trucks go past me in the opposite direction, the force essentially stops the bike dead in its tracks. But on the bright side, I headed out into a strong headwind, so on my way back I should get the tailwind, yes?

Clearly, I misunderestimated D-POD and his evil powers and ability to harness weather phenomena. Because I do not in fact get a tailwind on my way back. In fact, D-POD is obviously sensing that he’s going to be put out to pasture, and is struggling mightily against his fate. An epic battle rages, as he refuses to go down without a fight.

Now, I now that I’m known for occasionally MSUing. Making Shit Up. But as God is my witness, I tell you the truth when I say that as I was finishing my ride and going down one road at about -10 mph due to the fierce headwind, I saw the right-hand turn up ahead and breathed a sigh of relief, because it would be impossible to go from one headwind into another after a turn. So one would think. And so one would think wrong, because lo, I turn right......again into the wind. How can this be? I come to the only sane conclusion: D-POD is possessed and is trying to marshal the forces of nature against me. I get about a mile from the end of my ride, and with one simple shift, D-POD drops a chain. Of course. One last attempt to kill me. This bike is beyond bike shop help; it needs an exorcism.

So, umm, would anyone care to buy a used road bike?

to be continued.....

shin splints!!!!

to sum it up, they suck! here we are about a week and a half away from the race and my shin splints are completely flared up and very painful! i've been icing and doing all the stuff that i'm supposed to do to get rid of these things, but they are rather annoying. keep your fingers crossed that they aren't too painful for the race otherwise you may see me hobbling across the finish, oh wait no you are going to see be hobble across the finish regardless!

i hope everyone else's training is going well! looking forward to SF!

a warning

Watch out sharks! I'm gonna gitchya! Aren't you scared by my fierce & aggressive hat & face?! I may make goofy/dorky faces, but at least I don't cause debacles like BrownieGate (just other sorts of more benign debacles).

pre-race BBQ

buffalo v. lion v. crocodile

this is truly amazing video

LINK

Taking the plunge

In preparation for this:

Over Memorial day I went to the friendly neighborhood pool, which, unlike the pool at the gym that I go to, has a deep end.

I decided to follow the step in method for water entry:
“STEP-IN METHOD:The step-in method is the most frequently used, and is best used from a stable platform or vessel. The divers should simply take a large step out from the platform, keeping legs in an open stride. They should try to enter the water with a slightly forward tilt of the upper body so that the force of entry will not cause the cylinder to hit the back of the head.”

Three things I found out the hard way:
1) Hold your goggles
2) Hold your nose closed
3) Don’t look down


I’m cool calm and collected, put my goggles on and ‘step into the water’, I was looking down at the time.
As I hit the water, it comes rushing up my nose – not a comfortable feeling. I touch the bottom of the pool, it’s pretty deep, and start swimming up. My goggles have created a death-grip on my face – I think because I was looking down, I struggle to take them off while spluttering to the surface. And all I can think about it – stoopid me…. What was I thinking.

Fortunately it’s early in the season, so there weren't that many people in the pool.
I guess someone has to provide the laughs for the lifeguards, though I’m sure there must have been something else going on at the time, ‘cause he couldn’t have been laughing that hard at me :)

I’ll just have to keep practicing…

BRING IT ON!

I have prepared well and have two weeks left to dial it in.
Bring on race day! I have nothing else to post, so here's my new
favorite joke:

A businessman was getting ready to go on a long business trip, so he thought he'd buy his wife something to keep her occupied. He went to a sex shop & explained his situation.

The man there said, "Well, I don't know tha t I h a ve anything that will keep her occupied for so many weeks, except... the Voodoo Penis!"

The husband said "The what"? The man repeated " The Voodoo Penis" and pulled out what seemed to be an ordinary dildo. The husband laughed, and said, "It looks like a dildo!"

The man then pointed to the door and said, "Voodoo Penis, door!"; The penis rose out of its box, darted over to the door and started pounding the keyhole. The whole door shook wildly with vibrations, so much that a crack began to form down the middle. Then the man said "Voodoo Penis, return to box!" and the penis stopped & returned to the box.

The husband bought it. He took it home to his wife, And after the husband had been gone a few days, the wife remembered the Voodoo Penis. She undressed, opened the box and said "Voodoo Penis, my crotch". The penis shot to her crotch. It was absolutely incredible. After three mind shattering orgasms, she became very exhausted and decided she'd had enough. She tried to pull it out, bu t it w as stuck. Her husband had neglected to tell her how to turn it off. So she put her clothes on, got in her car and started for the hospital.

On the way, another incredibly intense orgasm made her swerve over the road. A police officer saw this and immediately pulled her over. He asked for her license, and then asked how much she'd had to drink. Gasping and twitching, the woman said "I haven't had anything to drink officer. You see, I've got this Voodoo Penis thing stuck in my crotch and it won't stop screwing me..."

The officer looked at her for a second, shook his head and replied,

"Yeah right... Voodoo Penis, my ass...!"

The rest, as they say, is history

New exhibit at the Field Museum: alternate cultures of the 90's: Pearl Jam and 90210

This is pretty funny, new words to Pearl Jam ("make me fries") ...

Video here

... and the 90210 intro, so so so cheesy (but yes, I watched it every week, right before Melrose Place). During our trip, I will adopt the "Luke Perry turn and pose while squinting" for all photos.

Video here

speaking of Melrose Place ...

Anxiously awaiting the Alternate Cultures of the 70's Exhibit, featuring the Bee Gees and the Sex Pistols, to be followed up by the 80's exhibit, featuring Culture Club and Stryper.

issues

1. With the countdown timer set for 8:00 am or so, we have now entered the sub-20-day range.

2 Just a training/angst update here, if anyone is still reading. I need a few more open water swims, then I'll be ready. I'll be ready for the run, even if I have to slowly gut it out. I am fearing the bike in a major way. All, don't be surprised if every single one of you passes me on the bike, unless, of course, some/most/all of you are in front of me getting out of the water, which is a distinct possibility. This picture reminds me of the bike leg here. please observe fit, muscular man in the lead about to die. The one saving grace, perhaps, is that this bike leg has long sustained climbs (as I recall it, being the first part of the other course) but no real hideous urban SF climbs ... I think, which I am much less suited to and which almost killed me on the other course.























3. See website for schedule. looks like registration Sat 12-3. Small window, plan accordingly.

4. Looks like swim, run1 and run2 are unchanged from when we first saw the site. See bike leg map though. It is still 13 miles BUT it is 3 laps of 4-4.5 miles or so, rather than the original plan of 2 laps of 6.5. Something to remember, don't think anyone wants to complete lap 2 and need to go to T2 but be waved back out for lap 3.

5. swim 530 am friday at the lake.

6. still concerned about rooming with Kevin. Max, please protect me.

7. allow me to gloat. here's a weight tracker for me since 9/29/06. It starts at 190 when I started tracking, but I was actually 194 or so earlier last year.

clarification

I know there was some discussion and question as to the lengths of the runs on the course, so here are the exact distances from the website:
1.5 mile swim
2.5 mile run
13 mile bike
10k run

that's not so bad, we can all handle that, right?!!!

oh and after yesterday's swim in the lake, i'm a little sore so clearly i need some more lake swims.