Triathlete Expected to Bring A Game After Week of Trials

It is said that for a woman, foreplay is everything that has happened from the last time she had sex to next time she has sex (with the same partner). Sunday, for me, will be the culmination of everything I have done since the last triathlon until the moment I enter the water. True foreplay, the kind that makes you warm, occurs right before the event. This is when you use everything that has happened to get motivated, warm, lubricated, and focused. The better the foreplay, the better the event. Just depends on what gets you off and what kind of event you are looking for. Explosive? Fun? Rough? Just enough to get dirty? Fast? Or nice and slow? Or in my case- three full events with short rests in between sustained for over three hours. If any friend of mine had told me that she was going to perform such a task I would have suggested some amount of training, at least an investment in the Khama Sutra, I mean, The Triathlon Training Bible.

For the last five weeks my closest advisory staff (one might call them close friends) have been shuddering at my busy lifestyle, warning me of the effects of overwork, and feeding me chocolate milk at an alarming rate. Though not in top form, my physical self feels as well prepared for the challange as one in my situation could pull off. Getting up pre 5:30am and running sans light is something I'm proud of in and of itself.

What I've been fighting is my psyche. I have often referred to my own mind as a pit of monkies with a full spectrum of unique personalities, goals, wants, and needs. To appease all of them takes a great deal more work and effort than any physical task has ever presented.

As I take my vitals of both body and mind I contemplate my foreplay. Dustin was right, I have done a lot of things wrong.

Body Profile:

1. Right shoulder muscles causing pain mainly in shoulder abduction and extreme flexion.

2. Back is feeling better and stronger.

3. Ankles and arches are in much less pain now that I haven't been wearing heels.

4. Alergies still bothering me.

5. 131.5 lbs.

6. Been Carbo loading for four days with a 3/1 ratio of carbs to protein.

*Crab linguine

* Smashing Pumpkin Keva Juice

* Chocolate cake and ice cream ;)

* Sweet and salty almond Odwalla bar

* Cereal

7. Last run: Wednsday

Last swim: Last Thursday

Last bike: Wednsday

8. Slight headache

9. Bike still not tuned

10. No real sprint training. Trained for endurance.

Psychological Profile (harder to quantifiably define)

1. Enough stress to keep me from getting a decent night's sleep in: 1 month

2. Peaceful/quiet feeling, but not calm.

3. Distracted

4. Unsure

5. Excited

6. Onsets of fight or flight mode for about 1 week (elevated Blood pressure and breathing rate, flushing of face, feeling of rush, generation of body heat, etc.) sometimes extreme.

7. Just took a test this morning who's score reflected my distraction. I should be making 90's.

8. Introversion

My foreplay has been sparse and disappointing. In spite, and maybe even because of this, I am still looking forward to giving it my all. I am only sad that Angela will not be joining us but look forward to spending time with Melanie.

I still feel like shit.

To I know who...

This is bad.

Part of me knows I fucked up big time. Part of me knows that if I had stayed, my heart would have exploded in my chest...no literally, I'm not sure of the last time I have felt such a rise in blood pressure. I was actually scared. It's the reason I left.

I'm not old enough for this.

I don't understand.

I don't know what faith is. I don't know that I've ever had it. The word hope means very little to me. I've never been sure of God but I wouldn't ever tell anyone not to believe. Never. I love that people believe. It makes them more human than I.

I like to "gut check" myself every once in a while...I test myself and really try hard to remain unresponsive to the pain I put myself through by watching all the Kate pictures on the screen saver on purpose.

The silence scares me more than the words.

If only I had known.

Why hide?

I'm too young to understand.

I want to.

I have always felt that by being less human, I could make myself unresponsive to all the pain, the genetics that I can't overcome, the feelings of being a woman that make me sick to my stomach. There is something really wrong with me. Before I had ever met Chris I looked around at guys...at girls...nothing. I couldn't find anyone I was attracted to...no one I felt was good looking or had a good enough personality. Not just for me...but at all. Instead of getting rid of the pain and the jealousy and the anger, I got rid of the most basic parts of being human. The part I used to love the most. The human interaction...I used to crave it.

One night a hand full of months ago we were in bed. He kissed me and for a brief fleeting moment I had felt something I'd never ever felt before. I felt human, I felt vulnerable, I felt willing, and I felt this odd sort of one-ness and peace overcome me in flowing sheets. It scared the living shit out of me. Peace? Me? And with another human? No. It couldn't be. I can't. With this peaceful feeling will come pain and hurt. With this one-ness will come jealousy and fear. The things I had cultivated out of myself were back.

No, I haven't experienced what you have. No, I will never understand it. Yes, it will always hurt me to think of it. I lie to myself every single day to cover up the silence. The parts I know you are leaving out of your story to appease me. It makes me feel guilty. If you can't tell me, If I'm that kind of person, then you don't want me.

I hear every open ended pause when you stop yourself from saying something you think will make me angry. And for that I'm sorry.

And even though you meant your apology, how would I know? I'm literally batting nil. I have absolutely no clue. None.

It's ironic actually. All the things I wish I could stop in myself...I expect from him. Jealousy. No, I'm not nor will I cheat. Period. Not if no one would ever find out. Not for a million dollars. But would it be too much to ask for a little jealousy? I tried not to show mine. It was going well too. I mean, on the outside. Letting it roll off my back. I loved that about me. But I hated being me.

I can't get over the fact that I'm human. I have managed to overcome a lot of pitfalls that I've seen others fall into. I've never experience heartbreak. I've never been left. I can let go. I have to. But this leaves me ignorant.

I never know if I'm important enough. I never know if it even matters. I never know what I should be concerned over and I get confused and start getting concerned over everything. Then I get angry like a tired child who doesn't understand why they are crying. I'm tired. And I don't understand.

I suck. I love him. I love his children. I am in love. I am exhausted.

I can't change the feelings I end up having. Not for anything. Like when I went to church. It was nice but I was never convinced of what they were telling me. I can't believe what I don't. Just as I can't change my love. Because I do. I love.

I don't just hold onto bad feelings. I hold onto things like tonight, wrapping your arms around me. Like telling me how your day has gone. I would listen for hours. Like hearing the excitement in your voice when you told your daughter you got to wear the blue uniform. Like watching her cry in your arms. Like remembering how proud I was of you when you started running. Because it wasn't for me. Like taking you climbing for the first time to Datil and loving every minute of it.

But I knew you wouldn't stop me when I left. And that's okay. It's not your fault.

Wet dreams

I am in need of some serious stimulation! I'm not talking about the sweet hot buttered pelvic message I'm always talking so highly about nor polishing any buttons. Although I did watch 300 again last night.......No, I'm thinking more of a deep tissue brain massage.

I never thought I'd say this. I want to be in class. There, I said it. The whole thing makes my tummy do flips. I haven't felt this way since Valentine's Day.

And Let me just Say this about that

I put SHS into a Google Images search for the photo in the last blog. I do that for most of the pictures I use on this blog...it's really fun. I choose my favorite picture of the ones that come up. That one was, by far, my favorite. But let me just say this about that. A few years ago when I was a nude model for art classes, I decided I wanted some nude photos taken. I was in pretty good shape, but my boyfriend at the time found the whole thing disturbing and seedy and didn't want me to do it...even went to the point of "forbidding" it. So I didn't. Even though I don't regret the decision not to (because the guy I was going to have do it was a little strange), I still want them done. I want an ass picture sort of like that...albeit, my ass isn't that tight...I still think it would look nice matted on my wall and okay, not really, but in my own personal album. It would be my way of preserving my own youth. That's what it was always about.

SHS is the best!

So...this week has been somehow unusually hard on me, not because of anything anyone has said or not said to me but because sometimes, no matter what people say or think, we feel ugly...whether it be inside or out, it happens.

I usually prefer not to talk directly about specific people on this blog however for brevity I will and do so with no hesitation. When I broke up with Damon, I confirmed to myself that I was a worthwhile person. That I was pretty, that I wasn't a horrible person, even that I could attract normal & good people. It's true. It's amazing what you have to re-learn about yourself coming out of a long history of mentally abusive relationships. At this point in my life, I have stabilized (no laughing Chris), and for the most part have seriously built my confidence and self esteem quite substantially. But no matter how much confidence you have worked for there is always self doubt. It's what keeps us striving to better ourselves. But it can also be destructive. Enough said.

This morning, while waiting for the 140 San Mateo bus, an average looking guy about my age in a car stops infront of me, and a ton of people waiting for the same bus, and rolls down his window. Now, usually when this happens to me the guy is asking if I "want a ride baby" and the whole thing seems to be leading to "suck my dick bitch." And usually I was (in college) wearing something somewhat suggestive. Not this morning. My hair was wet from swimming, pulled back in a low bun, I had a red SHS midriff under a white climbing tanktop (not showing my midriff by any means), and a black pair of yoga/climbing pants, and I was standing with my backpack on, arms folded around my stomach.

"Did you go to Sandia?" "Yeah I did." "Cool, so did I. I just saw your shirt, that's cool. You're looking very attractive this morning." At this point, I do what I always do and ignore the compliment as if he had made an error but figure a smile will suffice. So I smile. "Usually people say thank you went they are complimented." "Thank you." "You're welcome." And the window is rolled back up.

A complete stranger, with nothing to gain, wanting exactly nothing from me tells me I'm attractive. Usually I wouldn't take this as any sort of indication of anything. But given the situation I let myself be happy for me.

Let me tell you now, this is no substitution for the compliments I get at home. And there is no shortage of them. This is mearly a statement that now I know there are other people in this world who think I'm attractive. Yeah, it's true.

The key to my success

I am notorious for losing keys. I have lost more keys than I can ever remember having in the first place. I've lost single keys, huge sets of keys, keys that weren't mine, keys I had forever, and keys I had for a day. Over the years I've gotten better- I've used different tricks to keep them safe. Anything from having "key spots"...ie only having three spots they could be, to never taking them off my backpack key ring or now-cute little key toppers.

The last time I lost a key was fairly recently-within the last few months. It was on a bullet key chain. I was standing in my parent's kitchen with it, got in the car and suddenly realized I didn't have it. I searched high and low. To this day I've not found it. That was the first time I'd ever had anything happen to me that I couldn't explain. It had disappeared into thin air.

This morning. Angela's house. 6:45am. Getting ready to head out for a nice swim before my yoga/pilates class. Everything is together. I take out my little stuff: my lobo ID, my cell phone, my key, and a granola bar. I set everything down on the couch as I open and eat my granola bar and then throw away the wrapper. I get a drink of water, get a last look at my hot self in the bathroom mirror, let the cat out, straighten up and head for the door. Pick up my little stuff....no key. I tear my backpack apart three separate times. Look in the bathroom, under the couch, on and under everything in site, in the freezer, in the sink, under the table, the refrigerator, the bathroom again, under climbing gear. Nowhere. Nowhere. I call Angela. "Is your cat known to take things outside and hide them? No? K."

We agreed that I would have to take everything with me and leave the door unlocked. Shit. I gather everything up and as I'm about to leave I think about the one thing I did that I hadn't thought of before....I threw away the wrapper. I drop everything and go to the trash. Right on top between the wrapper and some paper was my little key with it's little tooth key topper. Lotta good that did me. When I came back from class Angela had taken out the trash and had started cleaning. If I hadn't found it...it would have been lost forever. I wonder if they all go to the same place. Have little key meetings. Laugh at my misfortune of being such a gooffish.

Tri it, you'll like it!

Let's put some perspective on this "intermediate distance" triathlon that I am doing at the end of the month. This triathlon, called the Elephant Man Triathlon, is a mile swim (1600 m), 26.5 mile bike (over a 40k), and a 10k run. After calculating my times for each individual event as minimum and "totally fuck it up" values, I looked for previous times (for last year's finishers) only to find out that this is the First Annual Elephant Man Triathlon. Somehow while looking at the website I stumbled across the course/elevation maps for the race. In-fucking-tense. I encourage you to check this shit out. http://www.mannonmotion.com/emt/ So, with that said, and with the knowledge that I am one of 150 people competing it this beautiful, challanging, and unique triathlon, here are my fastest (minumum) times for my usual courses:

Swim: (based on 500m @ 7.5min)= 1600m @ 24 min.

However based on UNM pool times @ 10 per mile= 32min. has been actualized recently.
Run: (based on an up and downhill paved course)= 10k @ 50:24
Bike: (based on 12 miles @ 45 min.)= 97.5 min (1.6 hrs.)

So, in attempts to put some meaning behind these or any numbers I looked at the results from the Olympic distance Rattlesnake Triathlon (1500m swim, 40k bike, 10k run). These people are sick. The best time was around 2:15. Uh-um. No.

If I take the total of my best times and add two minutes per transition (not including the fatigue factor) that is still: 3:04. Uh-um. Yeah, well. At least I can count on not losing time being dragged around in my wetsuit.

This is the bike elevation map. That big spike happens at mile 12 and continues to mile 16.

This is the run course. I'm not even going to look. Oh, God. I gotta get some new shoes and a friggen chocolate shake.