A Space Toddyssey Guide to Less Than Marginally Effective Endurance Athlete Encouragement Vol. 2

More gold has been mined from my less than marginally effective brain along with suggestions from my dear reader.

A Space Toddyssey Guide to Less Than Marginally Effective
Endurance Athlete Encouragement - Vol. 2

• You're almost there. (This should have been at the top of Vol. 1, but was so obvious I overlooked it.)
• I am rebooking us on a later flight, do you want window or aisle?
• Should I just tell the babysitter to spend the night?
• Remember the "Little Engine That Could!"
• You're doing great for someone your size.
• That looks so easy.
• I am soooo drunk.
• My legs are tired from standing around, I'll catch you at the finish.
• Did you see that double amputee? No...wait...she was has ahead of you.* (Something very similar was said by my father to my sister as she was running a half-marathon.)
• Have you seen Gary? (That one is for MS.)
• Atta boy! Uh, I mean...girl.(and conversely) Atta girl! Uh, I mean...boy.
• Lookin' sweaty!
• What's that smell? Oh, it's you. That's OK, I'm not offended.

*I know there are some double amputees that are very fast and would probably kick my ass - I meant no disrespect. Only to my sister.

A Space Toddyssey Guide to Less Than Marginally Effective Endurance Athlete Encouragement

What can I say? I have a gift. Charisa was kind enough to point it out so I feel I must share it with the world. Following is a list of less than encouraging platitudes to help those endurance athlete friends of ours "go forward." I know people will be so demotivated by these statements that we will be seeing them prominently tattooed so they will never forget the words that befuddled and depressed them during their toughest times. That, or I will be permanently banned from spectating at any Ironman events for fear of someone doing me bodily harm.

Without further ado, I present to you:

A Space Toddyssey Guide to Less Than Marginally Effective Endurance Athlete Encouragement

• Glad to see you up and about.
• Looks like you're still working hard.
• What took you so long?
• You got here waaaay quicker than I thought you would.
• Enjoy yourself, you're not done yet.
• Lookin' OK.
• Those shorts are flattering, just not with that top.
• Are you going to be OK?
• Just keep breathing.
• Can you take a picture of me and this cute guy I met?
• Like my grandma always said, "it doesn't matter how you feel, only how you look" - oh wait, that doesn't bode well for you.
• Don't celebrate yet. A lot can happen between now and the finish line.
• You're getting some good color.
• You really have some stick-to-it-iveness, don't you?
• Do you need me to contact anyone for you?
• You going to be much longer?
• Tortoise and the hare, buddy! Tortoise and the hare.
• Did you remember to set the Tivo?
• Keep smiling! Or grimacing. Your choice.
• Everything's going to be OK.
• I am so going to Twitter about the look on your face.
• I think you may have a little something on your shirt...not there...nope... more to the left...there it is...you got it.
• Whoa! Dude!

Consider this Volume 1.

Not Encouraging

CS just reminded me of some funny "encouragement" we doled out at IronMoo. And when I say, "encouragement" I mean it in the most "un-encouraging" sense.

Standing on State Street bleary-eyed from staring into the night looking for Gary, as people who had been racing for over 13 hours came shuffling by, I chose to trot out this gem:

"You're heading in the right direction!"

WTF!? What kind of asshole says that? Apparently this kind of asshole. One guy wanted to hit me with a chair (I could tell in his eyes) and I think a woman tried to spit on me, but lucky for me she was so exhausted she may have just kind of drooled on herself.

Not to be left out, after ridiculing me for my most un-encouraging "encouragement", MS, upon making eye contact with an obviously female participant - not to be confused with Gary - ran with her a couple of steps and produced from her mouth the most inspiring words a person could ever want to hear to propel them to that finish line after lo those many miles of work:

"Love It!"

Really?! "Love it!" "Love it?!" "love it" That's all ya got? At least my "encouragement" was somewhat informative. "Love it" raises too many questions in someone's already fuel and electrolyte depleted mind.

Love what? You love my shoes, my racing kit? What? Are you ordering me to "love it" and if so what is "it?" The pain I am feeling? The all-knowing power of the universe? What? What "IT"!? At which point their weakened minds, having been pushed too far would give up and say, "Fuck it, I must stop running so I can figure out what 'it' is." Then MS was hunted down for answers and retribution, but by this time she had discovered that the woman in a swim cap was actually Gary and having left to run along with him and pledge her undying solidarity and swearing to never let another woman love Gary if she couldn't be the only one in his life, the hunters missed their prey.

CS wisely chose to keep her mouth shut and just clapped her hands and made unoffensive whooping sounds while she looked at us two yahoos and sadly shook her head in embarrassment for us.

Ugh! I caved!

I caved and am now on Facebook. Feel free to harass me via any media you choose - this blog, Facebook, Twitter. I am still setting up my profile so bear with me, but feel free to friend me. Or not.

Hini and the Airplane

In 11 days I will be running a marathon. Over the coming weekend I will be sealed in an aluminum infection cylinder for four hours after which I will be deposited into a tightly packed mass of virus incubating, germ-bags gathered together for a wedding in St. Louis, Mizzura. The wedding is a second wedding for one of A's college friends (it seems strange that it's already time for second weddings.) Now, if I come down with any illness - like H1N1 (a friend in F's class calls it "the Hini flu") I will be seriously irritated. I am not a big fan of air travel anyway (or second weddings for that matter - kidding) and this would absolutely put me over the edge.

Basically, I am right where I should be in my taper - edgy, achy, paranoid and prone to radical mood swings - this could be a very good race.

If I don't get sick.

"Toodeloo, Mutha F***aaa!"

NO! I am not quitting my blog - although I am sure there are some out there who wish I would (sorry mom & A) that is what I said to long runs after my 15 miler today. I usually do my long runs on Saturday's "wit my bitches," but with A training for the 10 miler and both kids having games fairly early on Saturday mornings, I wanted to avoid any conflicts and it was just easier to run today. Tomorrow I will do an easy 6 or 7 miles with "the ladies" to kick off taper.

I have to say that I really hate this time in training. Not taper - those last couple of workouts that just feel like hell. I know they kind of are supposed to, but I still hate it. Needless to say, my run today felt like hell, but actually was pretty good - splits were consistent and quick and legs weren't too tired until I stopped at home.

Two weeks from Sunday and the truth will be revealed. Pray for good marathon weather.

The Dentist

I don't like the dentist. Don't get me wrong - my dentist is a nice guy. We have some friends who are dentists and they, too, are nice people, but dentists are a confluence of two things I dislike with the intensity of a white hot sun.

(The following will allow you all to look into my psyche and make judgements about my mental health, probably my masculinity and maybe even my sexual orientation. Judge away, assholes.)

I hate squeaky stuff.

Balloons - they should be banned from my house and completely eliminated from the face of the earth.

Balloon animals - there should be an international law forbidding the creation of these horrific monstrosities. For two reasons - the aforementioned squeakiness issue but add to that the fact they are most often created by clowns (which I also intensely dislike) and you have a perfect combination of satanism recruiting tools aimed at our most vulnerable and simple-minded population - children and adults who like clowns.

Green beans - they have to be cooked just right or they squeak on my teeth when I eat them. Butter or olive oil doesn't help. But they can't just have the shit boiled out of them because then they turn all mushy and get that awful gray-green color and all their nutrients (if there are any) are left in the water and I am not about to drink boiled green bean water. My mother-in-law has figured out how to prepare green beans that preserves color and nutrients and prevents squeak. A has also taken to preparing beans this way, but I think it is more time consuming so when we don't have time for the long-version green bean preparation method we use the steam-in-a-bag microwave green bean preparation method and those beans come out squeaky, so I pass.

My father-in-law cutting anything on a plate - there is no cure for this. First of all the guy is damn near deaf, so he can't hear what he is doing. Second of all, even if he could hear and I told him it bothered me he wouldn't care. Yeah, so, when my father-in-law cuts anything on a plate - especially salad - he doesn't just hold the fork in one place and draw the knife along side, he moves the knife and the fork in opposite directions. I am sure in his mind he has determined that this is the most efficient way of cutting food (he was a quality control engineer) but drawing the fork across the plate makes such an irritating screeching sound I have to stop eating because I get this metallic taste in my mouth like I am sucking on an old penny or drinking from one of the water pumps around the lakes here and then I get a migraine and have to go lay down. At least that is what I say happens so I can hide until the dishes are cleared and washed and then I don't have to do anything.

The dentist's drill - the drill itself makes a high pitched whine that my brain interprets as a squeak and then he applies it to my tooth which makes a squeak until it bites into the enamel and then it just sucks. I even hate it when the hygienst polishes my teeth because that damn thing is like listening to my father in law cut his salad while I eat poorly cooked green beans.

Needles!

I really hate needles. Sewing needles. Knitting needles. Pine needles. A needle in a haystack. (Yep, I even hate that cliche.) So there I am, strapped into the dentist's chair (OK not strapped in, but it feels like it) and there he is trying to remain anonymous with his mask on like some sort of soft spoken executioner and he is coming at me with the biggest syringe of novocaine. I mean my god, really, it takes that much?

He then proceeds to hammer this needle the size of a train spike into my gumline. I am ripping the cover off the armrest, stomping my foot and squeezing my eyes shut so tight I can see stars. When he was done injecting my mouth he calmly says, "Everything OK? You had a look of pain on you face." Duh, jackhole! You just stuck the Golden Spike in my lower jaw line.

Yes, he gave me lidocaine to numb the injection site but I am very sensitive. And the fact that it's a needle just makes it hurt to think about it.

Anyway, got my filling and was on my way. My mouth stayed numb for like four hours. I hate that, too.

The Unknown

I am fearing it now - "The Unknown." What is "unknown," you ask? Whether or not I can run the Twin Cities Marathon at the pace I want to. The problem is, I have had nothing to test my training with, other than training runs.

When I figured my training plan I based it on a 1:33 half-marathon I ran in the spring. In case you don't want to go back to that post, I basically started out too fast and figured, "what the hell, let's see how long I can hold this pace," and I held it pretty much the whole distance.

The thing is, the pace that I have been training for and actually training above (faster than) on tempo runs seems so daunting to me only because I have never tried to run that pace for over three hours.

So here is why I can run this pace.

When I ran that half-marathon in the spring I was training for a marathon but at a considerably slower pace than I am now (I was preparing to pace MS & LF in the Minneapolis Marathon.)

I finished a successful and fast triathlon season this summer and rolled right into this marathon training, so I am more fit than I would have been in the spring.

No illness or injuries up to this point, no missed training.

I have been running fast. Faster than I have in the past.

The only reason I can't run this pace is that I am having a hard time getting my head around the fact that I actually can do it. And that it might hurt doing it.

Here is the dumbest part of this - I am having doubts while I am in the middle of hard training and right before taper. This is the worst time to be evaluating anything regarding race day.

I will just have to trust in my training and continue to work the plan for now. Race day will come soon enough and all questions will be answered then. Any encouragement is appreciated.

Multiple Post Thursday

There will be multiple posts today. All of them should be pretty short.

Steve In a Speedo got video of the last person to make the bike cutoff at Ironman Wisconsin last weekend. I helped that person across the line and into transition. It was the most heart wrenching and inspiring moment of the weekend for me.

Check out his post here. (I am in the black shirt and red hat.)

Annism

A: "E has some really tough words on her spelling list."

Me: "Boy, I'll say. Adjudicate?! Rhombus?!"

A: "Let's pray she gets the easy words from now on."

A: "Is it wrong to advise your fourth grader to 'throw'

her spelling test?"

Me: "Uh, probably."

This might be why my children have no competitive drive.

Eliseism

E: "Did you get the thing fixed?"

Me: "What thing?"

E: "You know, that water thing?"

Me: "You mean the sink?"

E: "Yeah, that's the thing."

That girl of mine certainly has a wonderful command of the English language.

IronMOO 2009

Saturday Night

We left Minneapolis at about 2 in the afternoon. I took it upon myself to kick-start the weekend by screaming at my wife on the phone, "TURN ON YOUR FRICKING PHONE AND TURN THE RINGER VOLUME UP! JEEZE!" She wished me good luck by hanging up on me. CLICK!

(I did call back later and apologize for being a "dick" - which, admittedly I was. She soothed her wounds by going on a pub crawl with a bunch of parents from our kids' Catholic school. Obviously my insults didn't cause her to reorder her priorities. I am so ineffectual.)

At some point in the ride CS told us that high fructose corn syrup is mostly mercury. It became a running joke. "I'll have that with a side of ketchup and extra mercury." Maybe it was only funny to us.

Arriving in Madison at about 6 we checked into our hotel and then headed to the Start/Finish/Transition area to make sure we knew where we were going the next morning.

We found a sushi restaurant on State Street and ate until we about burst.

CS & MS waiting for sushi.

One order down.

Gelato after sushi - an international evening.

We were going to have a very early morning so we headed back to the hotel and decided to watch a movie.

"The Hangover" was just what the weekend needed. I highly recommend this picture. It is ridiculous, but so funny. We trotted out lines for the rest of the weekend. I can only imagine the irritation of the people in rooms around us at our hysterical laughter as they were trying to get some sleep before brutalizing themselves for 12 to 15 hours the next day.

Sunday

4 AM came very quickly. We figured we would be out of the room by 4:30 and downtown in plenty of time for our 5 AM shift helping people place their run special-needs bags. I decided to make coffee for everyone in the room. First attempt - PERFECTION! I nice hot cup of DECAF coffee. Damn it! No one wants decaf at 4:15 AM. Second attempt - ripped the coffee pouch in half. FAIL! Third and last attempt - pouch in the maker, water in the maker, cup under the maker, coffee all over the place and none in the cup. This is exactly the reason I never make coffee at home. I am a rétard!

Luckily, Starbuck's opened at 4 AM right in front of our first volunteer location. It is surprising how few people are in Starbuck's at 4:30 AM on a Sunday morning. But even more surprising is how quickly a line will form and snake out a Starbuck's front door and down a block at 5:00 AM on a Sunday morning. Our timing was perfect!

Volunteer Shift One

This shift went great. The athletes were very nice, relatively calm and so excited. The other volunteers were a lot of fun and we made some quick friends and shared a lot of laughs.

Bags.

More bags.

Done.

Volunteer Shift Two

Bike transition and catching might be the best volunteer job in my opinion (and having never done anything else, that means very little.) First of all, I got a great workout. We spent the first two hours of our shift doing striders back and forth on the top level of a parking ramp in 80 degree, sunny weather. We would get the bikes handed to us up a four step staircase and then we would run them to the appropriate rack. It was hot, sweaty, funny work as the volunteers tried not to lose their minds in the heat.

It must be pointed out that rubber gloves were provided. (Do you know what people do on their bike seats over five to eight hours? I did not want to get "The Hiv.") Water, Gatorade, subs and pizza were also provided. When I couldn't take it anymore I took a break, went to the rest room and washed my hands and came back to eat a sandwich. My hands were really pruney and weird, but clean. Then I spied another volunteer eating pizza with his gloves still on! (Did I mention that people do disgusting things while on their bikes? And "The Hiv?") I almost threw up.

Watching people come in after hours on the bike was absolutely inspiring. All the different ages and body types that were actually doing this thing was amazing. I developed a new respect for this race and for the people participating. When it was getting close to the cut-off it was so much fun. Seeing people driving to the line and so excited to have made it. Then there were the people who I suspect did not really want to make it, but did none the less. I think they wanted an excuse to stop. Finally, there were those who missed the cut. It was absolutely heart wrenching to see them get the bad news. I genuinely felt bad for them.

Dinner

After our shift we headed back to the hotel. We ran into Steve in a Speedo and his wife on the way back to the car. They are both super nice and were volunteering as well, but neither are doing the race next year - Steve seemed very adamant about that fact.

After well earned showers we headed back downtown to eat on State Street and cheer on the runners. By the time we got down there a lot of the restaurants were closed or stopped serving food. What is it with Madison and food!?

We found a place with sidewalk dining, open tables and burgers. We all wanted burgers. I had a fantastic "Breakfast Burger" with a fried egg, bacon and cheese. It went down fast and easy.

The Gary Project

MS "knew" one person doing the race this year. "Knew" because apparently this guy is the friend of a friend who she made eye contact with across a park at sometime the week before the race. She knew the guy's first name, Gary, but nothing else about him - no last name, no bib number, nothing. She had to text her friend - Gary's friend - and get his bib number. (I still don't know the guy's last name, but I remember that fricking bib number - #877.)

After watching the swim start and the first pros come out of the water we headed to the "bike-out" to watch everyone descend "The Helix." While waiting, MS kept asking CS to check Gary's progress on her iPhone. (Which I referred to as her "Apple phone" all weekend just to be annoying - I was quite successful at accomplishing this goal.)

"The Helix"

"Is Gary out yet?" "I know you guys are hungry, do you mind if we just see Gary go out on the bike course?" "What's Gary's status?"

Finally, Gary's status announced he was out of the water. "Now - what does Gary look like?"

"Well, Gary is wearing black with yellow printing on it." Uh huh, thanks for the details - we did know Gary's bib number, but really, I am no good with numbers.

After getting vertigo watching people spin down "The Helix" MS announced - nay, screamed - "There he is! There's Gary!" "Go Gary!" I looked in the direction she was gesticulating toward to see #877, AKA Gary, in a black kit with an orange design on it. Not yellow writing. Jeeze! Who is this guy?

Gary

Good! Gary is on his way so now we can be on ours. I was so damn hungry I was about ready to start gnawing on my left arm.

We walked down State Street to find some place to eat breakfast. I wanted an omelette and/or pancakes as did MS & CS. We walked for awhile and couldn't find anything open so we stopped into a coffee shop and asked a customer if they knew of a place we could get some pancakes. "No, I think you need to get out of downtown Madison to find those. Yeah, you'll find that kind of thing in the suburbs." Really!? Downtown Madison, Wisconsin does not offer breakfast anywhere? College students never eat breakfast on the weekend? OK - they probably don't, but I KNOW they eat brunch. Preferably with bloody-marys. Right?

We had CS use her "Apple phone" to google "Madison Wisconsin Pancakes." That "local" may have been right as very little showed up and none of it was in walking distance from where we were. Since CS had her phone out MS asked for an update on Gary. Nope, he hadn't crossed the first bike checkpoint. At which point the battery died on the "Apple phone." CS and I met eyes and I know we both silently thanked God that we wouldn't have to track Gary any more.

We did find a place that served pancakes, but when we got there, they, in fact, did not serve pancakes, but they had a variety of breakfast sandwiches. And French Toast Sticks. I think I may have mentioned my ravenous hunger so I ordered a truck load of food. Disappointed! It was by no means awful but it was far from awe inspiring. The French Toast Sticks were at least hot, but then most things come out of a microwave hot, right?

"Mmmm."

"Damn! Don't bite your own fingers."

Our next volunteer shift didn't start for about four hours so we went back to the hotel to charge the "Apple phone," use the "facilities" and figure out where we were going to watch some of the bike course and hopefully meet Tasha.

With some juice in the "Apple phone" we hopped in the car and headed to Cross Plains. I plugged in the destination on my GPS and CS plugged it in on her phone. You would think that between the two we would get there without getting lost, right? Ah, you don't know me very well now do you? I am such a directional rétard that I am surprised I don't get lost backing out of the garage. So we got a little lost. Not much, but really, we had two fricking GPS guides. Just sad.

We finally found the course. Hey, Gary is on the bike course. Let's see what Gary's status is? CS looked up Gary's status - a-gain. Then we started doing math. I was told there would be no math required! MS and CS started to try to figure out if we might be able to see him at this point on the course. CS was a math minor in college so she got recruited to do all the number crunching on the trip. I think we may have missed him or he wouldn't be by for more than an hour (I really wasn't paying attention) so no Gary sighting.

However, I did get to meet Tasha. She was dressed in a red wool blazer with many sparkles and a flowey skirt-type thing. She had slushies. And Cokes. And was walking with the Queen of Spades - or at least someone dressed like a playing card of the same suit. She was very nice and funny. Hopefully, when I am in Chicago we can get together for coffee (she lives near my bro-in-law) and talk a little more.

After watching for a short while, we headed back to downtown for our next volunteer shift at the "bike-in." But first, let's check on Gary. Nope, not passed the next bike checkpoint.

After running bikes in transition for two and a half hours, MS made the jump to grabbing bikes at the dismount. CS and I quickly followed. MS had kept checking the racks in transition so she knew Gary had not arrived yet. Then suddenly, there Gary was!

MS pushed a couple of other volunteers out of the way causing a 75-year-grandmother to completely tear her ACL and an overweight guy to curl into a fetal position and cower, crying in terror until Medical came to carry him away. She then hurdled a participant who had fallen down and screamed an obscenity laced tirade at two other athletes as she sprinted toward Gary. Grabbing his handle bars she lifted him off his bike and carried him across the timing mat on her shoulders all the while yelling encouraging platitudes, inquiring about his feelings and generally being a certifiable maniac. CS swears she saw MS mop his sweaty brow, massage his feet and help him change into fresh shorts, but I don't believe that last part. (We saw him in the same shorts on the run.)

At the end of our shift we packed up and went back to the hotel shower. We would be back downtown for dinner on State Street to watch and cheer people as they ran by and to check out the finish line. Oh, and to hopefully see Gary (read with sarcastic emphasis.)

Sitting at dinner on a sidewalk table MS again implored CS to check the "Apple phone" (annoying, isn't it?) to see how long we would have to wait to see Gary. CS, being the math minor in college does some quick figuring (actually it wasn't so quick and I am pretty sure she made reference to Pi, cosine and asked the waitress for a number between 1 and 75) and comes up with a completely inaccurate estimated time of arrival - "He should be here any minute now." Oh, how MS's face lit up with excitement. CS and I are starting to get worried at this point and we are exchanging panicked glances. MS is now referring to Gary as her lover, making up stories about trips they took together to France and the Bahamas, talking about how he is going to dedicate his Ironman win to her and generally losing her mind over Gary. CS and I play into her neuroses. Hell, we got nothing better to do, right?

After being kicked out of our table because the restaurant closed at 9:30 PM and Gary still had not "arrived." We got on the street and started cheering for all the runners still coming in. We made friends with a Chicago cop who was standing across from us waiting to cheer on someone he also barely knew. Actually, as definitions of "knowing someone" goes, these guys were blood brothers. He knew the guy's last name, occupation - a fellow Chicago cop - and where he lived - more than we had going for our IF (Imaginary Friend), Gary.

We became fast friends with this cop, too. Hey, if nothing else, we are friendly. He explained that he was cheering for this guy because "cops just don't get the whole endurance sport thing. Cops are all about bustin' guys, handcuffs and tazers." "Pretty much describes my wife," I said, "Minus the tazers."

An hour after Gary was supposed to "arrive any minute" ("Ooops, I forgot to account for the moon phase," CS says) I am peering into the darkness and I see "them." Those three magical numbers - #877. Halle-fucking-lujah!

(This next part is not made up, I swear!) I yell, "Hey, there he is! There's Gary!" MS looks down the road to where I am pointing and yells at me, "That's not Gary! That's a woman wearing a swim cap!" WTF!

No! It is, in fact Gary! MS suddenly realizes this and starts running with him. Yelling. "How are you feeling!?" ("Like Shit!") "Well, you look great! Is there anything I can do for you!? ("Don't get me disqualified!") "All right, it's all you from here!"

MS comes back to report Gary has proposed to her and she is now carrying his baby and they will be married just past the finish line "any minute now."

(This part is also true.) When MS gets back, our cop friend looks at her and says, "I don't know that guy, but he looked like he had absolutely no idea who you were." At this point MS snapped back to reality and made the startling realization that we have been chasing a guy who she absolutely does not know and who has no idea who she is other than some psycho who keeps haunting his nightmare. Good times.

(Yes! Gary was mentioned that many times - and about ten times more - during the weekend. And Yes! Every time Gary was mentioned I saw the linked image. He even became a verb - "Don't pull a Gary" = don't obsessively look for, track, cheer for and over-enthusiastically pursue a triathlete you know by first name only.)

Monday

After a good night's sleep we were up at 5:30 to get in line to register for IMWI 2010. By the time we arrived at about 6:15, coffee in hand, the lines were crazy long. And registration didn't start until 9:00!

The line in front of us.

The line behind us.

There was more friend making. And then the line started moving. We were getting in early.

I am pleased to report that I am shitting in my pants and we have successfully registered for Ironman Wisconsin 2010.

CS double checks her confirmation number.

MS signs on the line.

Let the lunacy begin!

What's Going on Wednesday

As I am sure you have all been wondering, what is going on with me? So this Wednesday I will tell you. (Thus the title of my post.)

OK, admittedly that first sentence was just ridiculous. Hopefully it's not an indication of how the rest of this post will go.

Hunting Season

The kids are back in school, so summer is officially over. With that being said, hunting season is now upon us. Or at least me. Which season you ask? Job hunting season.

I found a position that sounded interesting at a "major" corporation in town. I contacted a couple of people that I know who work in the company and networked a contact with the head of the department.

This could be a sweet job. According to the job description - minimal supervision, proofreading, writing, directing internal communications.

So I send over my resume to my friend. She sends it off to the department head and then I wait. Later in the evening I get another email from my friend. She very nicely points out that I might want to take a look at my resume. Seems I have a - wait for it...

Typo! I am applying for a PROOFREADING job and I have a typo in my resume. Not buried in the minutiae of my education or something - in the THIRD FRICKING LINE! (I spellchecked it and everything - apparently "quaterback" is a legitimate word in Microsoft Word's world. It should have been "quarterback.")

Needless to say, I don't anticipate a call back on that one.

Job hunt #1 = FAIL!

Road Trip

This weekend I am heading to Madison, WI to volunteer at the Ironman Wisconsin triathlon. On Monday MS, CS and I will stand in line to sign up for next year's race. I think we are all excited to volunteer and anxious about actually signing up for the race next year. The mere mention of it sends my wife into a tailspin of anticipatory resentment at the perceived training load I will be taking on. I am, however, not going to SWAG (Scientific Wild Ass Guess) the training for this race (as I have for others.) I am going to hire a coach and get on a program with one of the main goals being to remain somewhat happily married before and after the race.

Brush with Fame (or Infamy)

Turns out that rumors that have been circulating around the neighborhood are true. Brett Favre's daughter is going to school at the same school as my kids. She is in the same class as our neighbor's daughter - who is a grade ahead of E. It will be interesting to see which social-climbing couple tries to become fast friends with the Favre family. It's all a little "Real Housewives of Edina" for me.

Marathon Training

I am about a month away from Twin Cities Marathon. Training has been going well. The injuries and set backs from earlier in the training cycle seem to have abated. I have two more 20+ mile long runs before taper. I have been feeling good, but I am nervous about running as fast as I have been told I can for 3+ hours. I know I shouldn't make predictions about race day while in the middle of my highest mileage & intensity training block. All indications are that I can run that fast, now I just have to believe it.

Sonofabitch!

Right now I am sitting in the coffee shop and I feel a little tickle on my shin so I reach down to scratch it and WHAM! I get stung by a fricking bee! I freak out trying to kill the thing and get it out of my pant leg. Anyone looking at me would think I was having some sort of grand mal seizure and praying that I don't start choking on my own tongue. How it made it up my pant leg is beyond me. I did get the last laugh as I summarily executed it with an overly enthusiastic, rather effeminate dance on its black and yellow thorax. Take that, MoFo!

(Oh, and you will all be happy to learn that I am, in fact, not allergic to bees so you can all continue to look forward to more moderately entertaining, mostly migraine-inducing posts. Although I suspect there is at least one person out there who would just like me to go away. Mom.)

I Am Dumb (that goes without saying)

I was all excited because I signed up for a tune-up race for the Twin Cities Marathon. I had run the City of Lakes 25K last year and was interested to see how I would do this year. I had my race plan all set for this Sunday. Then I started thinking about the fact that I had not received my race number in the mail yet. Had it come and I threw it away? I better check to make sure they didn't change how they deliver numbers.

I went to the race web site and damn if the race is NOT this Sunday. It's NEXT Sunday. The Sunday I am in Madison, WI volunteering for IMWI. WTF?! I am such a moron! So now I don't have a tune-up race and I am out $30 registration fee. I guess a DNS is better than a DNF.

Just to prove that A and I are a ditzy match made in heaven. Here is how the first step of her run yesterday morning started.

(She hit bottom - that is like 4" of wet concrete.)

Perhaps now people will understand where my children get their blonde hair. (NJ - I am not sure where they get their looks either - I give my wife full credit for that side of the equation. I take responsibility for their smart mouths and penchant for finding "toilet humor" and burps incredibly funny.)

Now I have to figure out a race-pace workout (the timing isn't good for an actual race.) I was thinking about doing a 15 mile route with no stops, but that just seems mind-numbing to me. Maybe 10 would be better. Maybe I will do that next week after the kids go to school. If anyone has any other suggestions feel free to offer them. (Legitimate suggestions preferred, but I know I will get smart-ass suggestions from D - don't let me down.)