What is WRONG with you people?

 So one of my triathlete friends asks “Hey, anyone want to meet Saturday morning for a swim and then out for a bike ride to Folsom/El Dorado Hills, etc??

My response “Can’t, I have a tri on Sunday and it’ll kick my butt”

Another response “Can’t I have a 17 mile run Friday, but I may be able to make the swim Saturday.”

Another response “Can’t, I’m running 17 miles Friday, but will be swimming Saturday afternoon. And I’m doing a bike/run brick Sunday.”

My response “Well I’ll be free after my race on Sunday, so I can do your bike/run brick with you.”

Yes, I’m doing an Ironman in just less than two months and yes, I’m putting in the miles, but I’ll be damned if this isn’t one of the most ridiculous conversations I’ve ever heard.

What kind of maniacs do this and call it fun? I remember when “fun” was many beers on a Friday, parties on Saturday and sleeping in between being drunk. Fun was dodge ball and swing sets. Fun was hanging out at the river and doing nothing all day

I guess in my older, wiser (yeah right) years, my definition of fun has changed.

Don’t get me wrong. I love going to bed early, waking up earlier than the guy that works at the AM/PM Mini Market and spending all weekend working out and then barely being able to walk up the stairs to the office on Mondays, but it just sounds so much more ridiculous to hear other people talk about doing the same stuff.

It seems a good lot of my friends are off their rockers and it looks like I’m one of em too, although I don’t feel like it.

Peace!

What are the Odds?

So, on my never ending quest to find awful things to eat and later regret, I spotted a White Castle right down the street from my hotel here in Louisville.

Being a California native, it kinda goes without saying that I’ve never had White Castle. Kinda like how Louisvillians have probably never had Taco Bell.

Since I’d just eaten at the Ironman pre-race dinner thing, I wrestled with the decision to go for at least three minutes and of course, my primal need to eat all things crap won. I mean heck, they made a friggin’ movie about it and the Beastie Boys sang about it, so it can’t be that bad, right?

So I head out to make the four block hike to this hip burger joint and about a block away I realize I forgot my wallet, so I turn around and head back. I thought “Maybe this is a sign and I shouldn’t be getting White Castle. The Gods are telling me something, yadda yadda…”

Yeah, screw that, I was just so excited to get these stupid burgers that I’m lucky I remembered my pants, never mind my wallet.

So I get my wallet, head back out the door.

Here where it gets cool.

I‘m crossing the street a couple blocks away and I hear someone yell my name. The first thing I thought was “Who the hell is yelling my name, I don’t know anyone here.”

It turns out I left my sunglasses on the table at the Ironman dinner and the guy who was sitting next to me grabbed them and just happened to be driving down the same street I was crossing at the exact same moment.

He holds my glasses out the window and hands them to me. I thank him, we both freak out for a second and then say our "later dudes."

Had I not forgotten my wallet or had I taken that “sign from the Gods” and decided not to go, I wouldn’t have my Oakleys (that I’ve had for 5 years) nor would I have a jolly ol’ belly full of delicious sliders.

I like when cool stuff happens.

Peace.

Pay it Forward

I’ve always been a believer in karma. Some people say it’s bull, but I figure I’ll take whatever I can get, ya know?

I try to do the right thing as often as I can. Whether it's something as simple as holding a door for someone, letting someone have the parking space I was waiting for or asking a cyclist I see stranded on the side of the road if they have everything they need.

It's the little things that add up. Kinda like that coin jar you toss your spare change into at the end of the day. It may not seem like much, but after a while, it builds up and is worth a lot more than you thought.

I live a pretty blessed life and I think a lot of that has to do with the fact that I like to think I have a good balance of karma in my cosmic karma account (if only my bank account was as full)

Today, about 30 miles into what was supposed to be a 60-65 mile ride, I was standing up and riding up a slight inline in the road when I heard a fairly loud “ping” and my front wheel went all wonky on me.

My first thought was “Shit, I broke a spoke, I hope I can get a new one ordered before Ironman Louisville" (which is in two weeks.) Then I though "I'm really glad that didn't happen 5 minutes ago when I was doing 35 mph down that hill."

Then I thought “Shit, I’m 30 miles out in the middle of nowhere and I’m f**ked!”

It turned out that my hub broke and while I’m a pretty good mechanic and can usually fix most stuff that happens on the road, but this was a case of “dead bike walkin” and that was that.

Anyhoo…so I call my friend Tammie, she agrees to come get me and I tell the gals I’m riding with (yes, I was riding with four women today. Don’t be j) to go ahead and take off and finish the ride and I would just walk a couple hundred yards down the road to some shade and wait.

As it turns out, I couldn’t push my bike because the front wheel was too out of true, so tossed it on my shoulder and started walking.

It had to have been the most pathetic sight, but for some reason, I felt kind cool. Not sure why…

Suddenly I hear a guy yelling asking if I’m okay and if I need a ride. He was a big, burley bearded guy in a pickup truck that upon first glance, looked a bit shady. He asked where I was going and I said that I’d be happy to just get a lift to the nearest town.

He asked where I came from and I told him I was parked in Davis, but a friend was going to come get me in a while. He dropped his tailgate and said “toss it in there, I’ll give you a lift.”

He said he had to go to the jeweler to drop off a watch to be fixed, but if I wanted to hang out, he’d give me a ride to Davis afterward.

I think his name was Dan. He’s a high school chemistry teacher, was in Vietnam, had an old man that was in WWII, loves his wife (although she nags a lot) and is a Harley rider and has been stranded on more than one occasion.

I didn’t get in the miles on the bike I wanted to today, and I’m a bit bummed about my wheel situation, but I met a super cool guy, had some great conversation and ended up feeling all warm and fuzzy after a day that should have left me cursing the Gods.

 Dan had no reason to do what he did other than he was a believer in karma and I couldn't be more thankful for that.

Sometimes stuff just rings true.

Peace.

Oh sweet, sweet slumber.

I don’t know about you, but I love my naps. I’ll take one damn near any chance I get.

Saturday and Sunday are a given. Neither would be their respective day without a nap tossed right in the middle of them. If I get off early during the week, you can bet your ass I’ll be snoozing within an hour of getting home if I don’t have anything else to do. I’m actually in a bit of a post-nap haze as I type this.

I have this one coworker that tells me she hates naps. That they’re stupid and a waste of time, yet she often tells me about the latest episode of the New Jersey Housewives she just watched. This I just can’t understand. Sure, maybe if you’re little kid and are excited about the beautiful splendor that is our world, I could see how a nap would be unappealing, but hey, kids are dumb, we all know that.

Ever watch a baby? They can just sit and play with their toes or a set of keys for hours. They don’t know any better.

Me though? In my old age, I’ve come to realize that while I do enjoy this beautiful world in all of its glorious splendor, I also LOVE to sleep.

I love that confused state you’re in after a particularly long nap when you don’t know what time it is, where you are or what happened. It’s a thing of beauty.

Then you get to get up, stretch and have a cup of coffee. It’s like starting your day off all over again and of course, this works for me because I’m a morning person, so why not get in as many mornings as you can?

My friend Tammie calls me a baby whenever I talk about my naps and maybe I am, but at least I’m not so dumb that I play with my keys for hours.

Where’s my coffee?

Peace!

Hot diggity dog!

I like the the 4^th of July. It’s a day to celebrate our independence, potato and macaroni salads, watermelon, obnoxious ghetto people and their families cramming the parks and beaches with their gross kids and also, being American.

Did I mention hot dogs?

Yeah, hot dogs are about as American as you can get. So in celebration of this glorious and often misunderstood food group, I bought an 8 pack Nathan’s dogs, an 8 pack of buns and I’m going to do my best to eat them all.

Yeah, I know, you’re thinking “Dude, they had the huge Nathan’s hot dog eating contest today and Yakamuri Nakamura ate 47 hot dogs in 10 minutes.”

Well, I’m a pretty good eater and can hold my own with damn near any layman at a buffet, but I am by no means a professional eater and those guys are in a league of their own, so drop it.

Why the Nathan’s you ask? Okay, it’s not really in celebration of the eating contests that went on around the country today. It’s because they’re hands down, the best hot dogs in the world.

I had a ball park frank at a BBQ the other day and I could barely choke it down (I did though.) It was mushy and had no flavor. It didn’t have that *pop* like a Nathan’s.

My love of the Nathan’s dog is a double edged sword though and is actually a quite painful topic for me to talk (or write) about, as it was my ex-girlfriend –God rest her soul- that turned me on to them. So every time I take a bite of a Nathan’s I’m taking a bite of my past, and that’s a tough mouthful to swallow.

I just got ketchup (or catsup) on my keyboard, shit! Now it’s going to smell like a disgusting 7 year old kid! What the hell is the difference between ketchup and catsup anyway? It’s like baloney and bologna. And why do kids always smell like ketchup/catsup? Who knows these things?I WANT TO TALK TO THEM!

Anyway, this is silly and it’s keeping me away from my dogs, so have a nice 4^th, enjoy your evening and the fireworks.

Peace and God bless America!

Highs and Lows

This morning I woke up from a dream with such heartache I thought I had to still be sleeping.

It’s been just over a year since Dewey was laid to rest and I have to say, I still struggle with his loss every day and am still brought to tears more often than I care to admit.

Last night I dreamt Dewey was still with me. We were running around and playing. I pet him as he was lying in the sun and I was (we were) happy.

Beyond happy, actually.

The joy that was in my heart as I slept is impossible to describe, although I know many of you that have -or have lost- pets can identify with it. However, the emptiness that closed in on me upon my waking with the realization that he is still gone was as unsettling as it was overwhelming.

While I miss Dewey with all my heart every day and would give almost anything to have him here with me again, the memories I have will always be there and for that I’m thankful.

If I could wake up with the heartbreak I woke with today everyday every day for the rest of my life, I would, because that would mean that every night I would dream about the joy and love that he brought into my life, and I wouldn’t trade that for the world.

Today I’ll give Tex some extra treats and hug him a little tighter.

Miss you Dewman.

I’m not a very good attention whore

Last weekend I bought a pretty loud pair of shoes. Okay, they’re not so much loud as they are completely obnoxious. To quote my buddy “Dude, it looks like you stepped in unicorn poop.”

Yeah, I bought them partially because (I think) they look awesome, but mainly because they’re a great shoe. I love walking/running/sleeping in them (they glow in the dark, okay!)

So today I went to Costco in my unicorn poop shoes and no less than 6 people commented on how awesome my shoes were.

The DirectTV guy actually asked if he could take a picture of them, so I literally stood there posing for two minutes so he could get a good picture (I wonder if there is now a picture of my shoes and cankles on some guy’s Facebook page)

At one point, as Tammie and I were in line waiting to get our $2 slices of pizza, there was a crowd of four people, standing there, staring at my shoes and talking about them. Even the homeless guy behind me said he was going to get a pair (although he wanted the high top hiking/mountain, and presumably urine-proof version)

Now I’m all for being the attention whore. Let’s face it, I’m covered in tattoos, I own two pink bikes and I’m ridiculously good looking, it kinda goes without saying, but it was almost embarrassing just standing there, answering questions about the most ridiculous shoes ever made and I almost didn’t like it.

It reminded me of how, when I was 19, I super-glued a Big Gulp cup to the roof of my car and went ripping around town.

There’s nothing funnier than someone ON THE FREEWAY trying to flag you down and tell you that you left your drink on your roof.

People would honk and yell and point at my roof and I would just play stupid, like I didn’t know what they were talking about and they would just look at me like I was an idiot (the joke was in them)

After about two days of people honking and yelling and getting out of their cars at stoplights to get my drink for me, it really got old fast and I had to take it off.

I like attention. I think everybody does, but I think I can only take it in small doses. I can’t imagine how celebrities deal with fame. Maybe I can write Richard Gere, or my ex-wife (lol) a letter and ask them.

I can’t return my unicorn poop shoes, and I wouldn’t anyway, I love them and they make me happy when I run in them, but I guess I’ll have to find a way to deal with the additional attention I get from wearing them.

Maybe when someone says “Oh my God, those shoes are awesome!” I’ll reply with “Oh my God, YOUR shoes are awesome!” or something witty like that.

Peace.