Dear Diary,
13. My weight loss continues, unbelievably. I was at 166 before MCM, and I'm at 167 now. That's 8 pounds down from September, and considering that I spent 10 days on the road, eating takeout, is not bad at all.
12. Inexplicably, Tanita fancypants scale says I gained a percentage of bodyfat. Because it is stupid, and hates me. It says I am 33% fat. Yes. Thank you, Tanita, for telling me that one third of my body is pure lard.
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| Going.... |
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| No. |
11. HAVING SAID THAT...I started my new training plan last week, and ran EVERY SINGLE MILES IN IT. BOOYAH!!!
10. I'm still trying to work out Ironman training. The last time i did an Ironman I was a teacher. I left work at 3:00--the kids left at 2:25 and they made us stay for another 30 minutes, i don't know why...maybe so we wouldn't embarass them by passing the kids as we sprinted for our cars. It also meant I was free June and July for full training.
9. By the way, I love candy corns, did I mention? I savor them; it’s impossible for me to eat a candy corn all at once. When given a handful of them I nibble off all the tips on all of them, and then the middles, saving the yellow bottom butts for last, because that’s the best-tasting part. DON’TLOOKATMEINTHATTONEOFVOICE you know it’s true.
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| No, no, no. |
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| ...going... |
8. I estimate that one serving (19 pieces) takes about 15 minutes of running to burn off. It’s totally worth it, IMHO.
7. FURTHERMORE. It’s also true that they taste better when they belong to someone else. I never buy candy corns; I’m satisfied to dip into the giant bowl they keep this time of year on the executive meeting table. Am *I* an executive? No. But that’s beside the point. Purloined candy corns are always better.
6. Now, being a purist, I do not eat oddly flavored candy corns. I also do not eat things that claim to be candy corn-flavored. I do not burn candy-corn candles.I will, however, tolerate mellow-cream pumpkins. They taste just like the yellow butts on candy corns. I can barely tolerate wrongly-colored ones, but as as they are properly flavored, I can close my eyes.
That's really all i have to say about candy corns.
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| ...gone. |
5. For the life of me I cannot figure out how to edit my blogger template on my ipad. If I could, I would change my upcoming races: Honolulu Marathon, The Dual trail marathon in Wichita Falls, Texas; possibly Three Days of Syllamo, Sharkfest 2014, Big Basin run, and Ironman Boulder.
4. Boulder, by the way, is a full Ironman. There seems to be a plethora of races where they say, YOU ARE AN IRONMAN and they're only half irons. This one is a full. I don't know why that should matter to me; but it does. The way I figure is, if the sun isn't sinking or set when I finish, I didn't do a full, the end.
3. My last one was five years ago. And yes, I still hate cycling. Much. I tolerate it in triathlon because I figure that it's the bridge between two things i love: swimming and jogging. The bike is my weakness, and it's not like Boulder is flat, right? God, I hate cycling. I hate feeling like people are trying to kill me. I hate evertime I've wiped out. I hated every time I got a flat and my race was over. I hate my ass hurting and my back and neck and shoulders gettng stiff.
2. DreadPirate and others have said to me, at times, if you did it more often you'd like it more. I challenge them to pick something they truly, truly despise and use that same logic. By that rule:
- If you ate (food you hate) more often, you'd start liking it.
- If you had your tooth filled more often, you'd look forward to it.
- If you practiced stubbing your toe on the metal frame of your bed every night, why, it would hurt less and you'd be smiling, instead of swearing.
But, so, you can't do a triathlon with having a sore ass, right? I've learned a lot from endurance sports, namely, i may not be able to make something easier or more pleasant, but maybe I can make it hurt a little less.
1. So when. I signed up for this last summer i was all, "hell, it's thirteen months away!"
Then it was less than a year away.
Now it's less than nine months away.
Oh, shit...
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