If you remember last year, my Martini Twin and I did our first tri together – it was great, except for the part where I didn’t know how to swim and freaked out.
Totally and completely freaked out.
Which, having never really swam before, was a completely understandable thing to do. But I was determined to finish – in all my years of running and racing, I’ve yet to DNF. I’ve walked, crawled and cried over a few finish lines, but I’ve always finished. That may not necessarily be a good thing, but as long as my legs are in tack, it’s a record I aim to keep.
I’d be damned if I was going to let a small thing like not know how to swim keep me from having fun at my next tri. So, in January of this year, in preparation for that next tri, I started taking swimming lessons, 3 times a week. And, Internet People, believe it or not I learned how to swim. Nothing record breaking, but I got to where I wasn’t constantly choking on water. I actually got to a point where I even ENJOYED going to swim. Take that evil water! It’s the small miracles in life that make my world go round.
So last Saturday, the Chef and I loaded up the bikes, all the gear and Cherry Berry and headed to Oklahoma for my second tri – the Lighthouse Sprint Tri. We drove for three hours with Cherry Berry loving us, without restraint, every mile of the way. The drive was just as annoying as the gif –>.
We arrived. We picked up packets. We planned. We modeled our cute new outfits. We had a fantastic dinner that night with the husbands – at a restaurant that apparently was run by some secret underground vampire clan. Really. Then we had more fun.
See. Girl fun. Boy fun. We do look good in vampire red!
Who do you want to party with? Horny red vampire girls or smiley cycling boys?
I rest my case.
We got up the next morning and headed to the start line. I felt great, having prepared for six months for the 500-yard swim so I felt pretty confident. In fact, oozing with confidence one might say.
Where’s Waldo?
But the strangest thing happened as I jumped in the water – I forgot how to swim – completely and totally. AGAIN. It was as if I had never touched water in my entire life.
I’m not exactly sure what happened, except I panicked. And I couldn’t breathe because there was all this water – and people touching me and splashing me. If there is one thing I’ve learned in my 40 years, it is that breathing is better than not breathing and if you splash me I will hit you. So I pulled over to the side, hung onto the rope and let everyone pass me – I was the last person out of the water. My time was actually almost a minute slower this year with six months of swimming lessons than it was last year when I didn’t know how to do more than dog paddle.
Dead last is humbling, to say the least.
I have no clue what happened. But, I blame gas. I blame everything on gas these days – and rightly so, I might add. Gas sucks.
Anyhoo, the bike went fine. I was slow and tired, but I made it fun.
The run went fine – except for the fact that at the last minute I decided to wear the concrete blocks I refer to as Nike Frees after training in the Vibrams for the last month. I can’t believe it, but I love the Vibrams – even if they are dorkier than dorky looking.
My personal advice to you: never wear these with a cocktail dress – stick with stilettos.
Whatever the case – Martini Tri Twins were the cutest on the course! Of course!
The husbands were the best photographers on the course and best of all was the Rombauer they had waiting for us at the finish line!
I had fun – so much fun – despite my intense fear of not breathing, and having all my hail damage enhanced with wet, shiny, skintight spanky pants.Will I do another tri? Probably. Will I freak out in the water? Probably.
Whatcha gonna do? Have fun I reckon.
(Please note Chef’s triangle is hogging the photo.)
My friends are fun. I miss fun in my life. Gas has taken away my fun, and I need some back. I need a little more of me back, for myself and my family.
Cherry Berry had fun too, but she wasn’t very Cherry on the ride home after spending time with her equally as spastic friend, Daisy.
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