Sometimes the stars align for bloggers. The very same day that I do something completely stupid that I plan to embarrass myself by sharing on the blog, I get an email with my Myrtle Beach marathon race photos. Now I have a theme for today's post without even trying!
One time I told a friend on Facebook that I don't really get embarrassed anymore. Whoever runs Karma must have seen that message, because the very next week I was pulled on stage during an assembly and forced to do some sort of African dance in front of the entire school. I was embarrassed.
But, before I get to that, I must share the exciting news that I did manage to make it through yesterday's hour long swim. It wasn't fast or done with good form by any means, but I did move back and forth across the pool continually for the entire hour, with no help from floaties or inner tubes or the like. The pool was pretty crowded, and I did kick a guy while sharing a lane, so it did sort of simulate triathlon training. I still think my idea of having Eric come to the pool and just randomly attack me and swim over me while I attempt to do laps is the best bet, though.
My training plan had 90 minutes of spinning on the schedule this morning. The YMCA has spin class at 5:45, but it's only 45 minutes long, so I got up at 4:30 to do another 45 minutes before class. I'm noticing that triathlon training means the 4am hour is about to become my friend.
Luckily, I had something exciting to get me out of bed. My new noodle hugger - a headband that the talented Emily makes and sells for super cheap prices. I'm cheap too, so I bought three and had her bring them to Myrtle Beach. I'll spend money on headbands even though I already have 400, but I'm not throwing the post office an extra $2.
|It's just that perfect.|
My bike hadn't been shifting gears correctly for a few weeks, which wasn't a huge issue on the trainer, but would be for my outside ride tomorrow. I finally got around to bringing it to the bike shop to find out the problem, really hoping it wouldn't need some expensive repair.
Eric had diagnosed it with a bent rim, so I walked in the bike shop announcing my bike had a bent rim like I knew something. The guy took it in the back and figured out the problem in approximately half a second. Turns out there was no problem, except the owner. Apparently you are supposed to clean the chain. Frequently. Buying the bike in April and cleaning the chain in February doesn't qualify.
This is why I like running. You get shoes, and then you run. No other work required.
They sold me a little contraption that attaches to the chain and then you pedal and the brushes inside clean it. Now my bike shifts gears nice and smooth like it's coated in butter.
After my first marathon, my own mother said my race pictures looked like I was a member of some sort of program where the Special Olympics helps their contestants run marathons. So based on that sort of photographic past, plus knowing how I actually felt during the marathon, I thought I was prepared for the worst.
Somewhere near mile 12, I was still with Lily, it was still early in the race, and I saw the photographer in time.
At least in this one I appear to be a somewhat normal runner.
|I look like I'm about to smack her for bringing a fanny pack.|
Lily's aunt's theory is that if you are smiling in race photos, you didn't work hard enough. I'm pretty sure she would approve of mine. Here's what I probably looked like in 99% of the race.
|In my defense, the orange barricades in the background show I was almost at the finish line.|
|Don't hate because I can run a marathon with my eyes closed.|
Do you agree with the theory that smiling photos means you didn't work hard enough?
I can usually smile easily in the first half, but after that, not so much.