Training For an Ironman

I guess I knew what I was getting into when I registered for Ironman Cozumel last November.

I knew there would be long days, and there have been many. I knew there would be hard days. Days that I would barely be able to walk when my feet hit the floor in the morning.  I knew there would be mornings when I would just want to hit that 5am snooze button and sleep until noon.
 As I sit here, two weeks away from leaving to go to Cozumel, I realize I have survived the long days, pushed through the hard days and the pain and woken up every morning to not dread the day, but seize it.
I've learned to look at every day as another opportunity to get just a little bit faster on the bike, run just a little bit further (or is it farther? Does anyone really even know?) or work on my swim stroke so I can be just that little bit more efficient.

 I knew I would neglect my friends, my social life, my chores and pretty much everything else. I knew all this and made the decision to do it anyway. Tex doesn't get walked as often and for that I feel unbearable guilt.  I have the most patient and understanding girlfriend any man could ever ask for. She's been nothing but positive and supportive these past few months, and for that I am eternally grateful (it's almost December, baby!)

It's funny how solitary trialthon is. Just you and your bike, or running shoes or a lake or pool for hours on end. Sure, sometimes I train with other people, but for the most part, I'm alone, doing what I set out to do. Funny thing is that I really couldn't even tell you what the heck I think about when training. I think I mostly just picture myself in Cozumel, on the course, and that's what keeps me going. I think about what it will be like to cross that finish line and honestly, just the thought of it almost chokes me up.

I've spent months striving towards a goal that is almost here.

Shit...it's almost here....

Am I ready for this race? Hell, I don't know. I think I'm as ready as I'm going to get. Am I afraid of this race? Damn straight I am. Am I afraid I won't be able to finish this race? Not for a second.

I think the thing I'm most afraid of is that I'm not going to know what to do with all my free time when it's over.

I am Not an Asian Tourist

Back in the day, I was almost a rock star.

Okay, I was never even close to being a rock star. But I liked the idea of being one, so I got a bass guitar when I was 15.
It was a super cheap POS from Montgomery Ward that my Mom -even though we were broke- bought for me. God how I loved that guitar (and my Mom for buying it for me.)
Not only was it super cool with all the chicks that I was a bass player, but it gave me something to do (although it didn't keep me out of trouble by any stretch of the imagination.)
I would play that thing for hours on end. Before school, after school and any chance I could get. I can't even count the number of times I woke up in the middle of the night with it laying next to me in bed and just started playing until I fell asleep again.
I am blessed enough to have a good ear and never needed to take lessons. I could just listen to songs and know how to play em, which is more than a lot of people can say.

So anyway, I got damn good at the bass, started playing in bands and did the whole band thing for years until I got tired of it.

Unlike when Mom used to say "Don't sit so close to the TV, you'll ruin your eyes", her telling me to "turn that damn music down before you go deaf" was actually pretty spot on, as I really did ruin my ears.

So if sometime you're talking to me, and I'm just kind of standing there with a glazed look in my eyes, nodding my head, smiling and saying "yeah." like an Asian tourist, it's not because I agree with you or think what you said is funny. It's because I was in a rock band in the 80's and can't hear a damn word you're saying.

  I sold my bass a few years ago and hadn't played it for probably a year or two before that. I still strum my old acoustic guitar every once in a while, and maybe -if you're lucky- I'll sing you a song sometime, but for the most part, outside of a million great memories and a bad case of tinnitus, that rock star dream is far behind me, and I'm okay with that.


I'm sorry, what was that?

Oh the Beautiful Splendor of Vienna

I don't know if you've ever been to Vienna, but I haven't. I hear it's nice there. It's known for its mild summers, beautiful architecture and even more beautiful women.
I think it may have been stormed or something once, but I'm not really sure about that.

Why this silly talk about Vienna you ask? Well hang on a second and I'll tell you!

Yesterday, as I sat in my wonderfully decorated "zen like" cube at work, I decided I needed a snack, so I borrowed a dollar from my totally awesome cube neighbor Sheryl -not to be mistaken for Cube Girl- and strolled to the breakroom to hit up the vending machine. Whilst staring at all the delicious treats from which to choose: Doritos, Fritos, salty nuts, Twix bars etc., I thought "these will not do the trick, I need something really delicious. Something exotic that reminds me of my childhood." So I strolled to the other vending machine and decided to take the leap and get the Vienna Sausages.
We recently switched vendors, and for some reason, the new vendors thought it a good idea to put vienna sausages in one of the machines, and for the past month or so, there have been 5 cans of them that nobody has been brave (or stupid) enough to buy.

Well until yesterday that is.

First off, I have to say that I seem to remember really liking them when I was a kid. Hanging out with friends with the vienna sausages flowing like wine. Building forts out of armchairs, couch pillows and blankets and eating Vienna sausages. Sitting on the roof of the house on the Fourth of July to watch fireworks and eating Vienna sausages...wait, I think I dreamed that one.

Anyway, so I buy the damn sausages, grab a plate, fork and knife and go back to my cube to relish in this childhood treat that most likely will even be better now that I'm older and have a wiser pallette.

Yeah, not the case.

Apparently I was born without taste buds and they didn't come in until middle school. Maybe my mom's bad cooking had something to do with my ability to stomach these things. I don't know, but I do know that I took one bite of this atrocity and almost screamed. Not with delight, but horror. I was expecting a hot doggy/spam-ish taste and was hit more with  rat-poison overtones with an ass flavored finish  I can't imagine how something so horrible and vile can still be manufactured in this country (wait, they're from Vienna, nevermind)

I honestly don't know if what I wrote above about Vienna being known for its mild summers and beautiful women is true or not. I really don't know much about it. What I do know is that I will forever associate these demon dogs with it, and for that reason, will never be a tourist there.

Needless to say, I didn't eat them all. I barely ate half of one. I tried to see if anyone in the office wanted them, but all I got were strange looks, so I just left them on some guy's desk.

Next time I'm sticking with the tried and true, made in America, Red Vines.

Blah blah blah...

As I sit here thinking about what I should blog about, I can honestly say, I have no good ideas or brilliant thoughts, which is weird, because I'm usually chock full of em (well, full of something)

I've been in a bit of a funk as of late. As I try to figure out why, I'm hard pressed to fund an answer.
My job is great.
I'm good looking (albeit a bit chubby)
I have an amazing group of friends.
I'm dating a fantastic gal that seems to get me.(sorry ladies)
I have roof over my head and a warm bed to sleep in.

So what the hell do I have to be in a funk about?

In an attempt to get to the bottom of this situation, I will make a list..

1) My dog died.

Well I guess that's about it.

*sigh*

Deep Thoughts....kinda.

I was thinking the other day. I don't remember exactly what I was thinking about, but I'm sure it was something I thought was interesting.

Or maybe not.

I've never been accused of being a "big thinker." I just kinda am who I am and think about what, I suppose, I'm supposed to think about (like if it's okay to use suppose and supposed twice in a row like that)
I don't think about big things like the meaning of life, what happens when we die or how those foamy soap dispensers work. I mean, its regular damn soap in the bottle and then it comes out foamy!
Whatever, I guess that's the kind of crap I figure I'll find out when I die. Or not...who knows?

On occasion I've been called shallow, but I prefer to think of myself as simple. It doesn't take much to entertain me. Give me some aluminum foil and a band-aid (or a blog) and I can have fun for literally minutes on end.

Obviously there is a place for big thinkers in the world. I mean, somebody had to think of a way to get a guy on the moon, right? Who would have invented the Slinky, the garden hose or 12 sided dice? In a world full of thinkers like me, we'd be playing Dungeons and Dragons with rocks and peeing on our lawns wondering why they weren't growing.

Sometimes I think about what I'm going to write in my blog, but then usually determine that it's pretty stupid. Which is kind of sad if you look at the crap I actually have written here.

I think about things like who the hell decided that the number 2 would be spelled T W O. This makes no sense to me and I even had a minor panic attack at the grocery store once when I was writing a check for $200, because"T W O Hundred" didn't look right. T O O? No. T O? That's not right. T W O? That just can't be right!!!
"Twhoa" is how it should be pronounced. Someone should change the spelling to "Tew." Who do I write a letter to regarding the changing of the spelling of a number?

Sometimes people who are not great thinkers are mistaken for dumb, which I think is silly, as many great thinkers could also be called dumb. I guess it all depends on what you consider smarts. I heard that Albert Einstein once left the house without his pants. Now that's pretty stupid.
Me? I may not be the smartest guy, but at least I've never forgotten my pants (well, not by accident.)

Deep thoughts? Meh, who needs em? Brilliant ideas? Go right on ahead and give it all you got. I'm just going to sit here with my dog, have some dinner, blog a bit and maybe shave my legs later.
I won't sit here and ponder, or wonder about the difference between the words ponder and wonder. I won't ask why, and that's okay.

Peace!

The things we are told.

I just cracked my knuckles for about the four millionth time and it hit me: "I don't have arthritis."
For as far back as I can remember, I was always told "Don't to that, you're going to get arthritis."

My face has also never frozen in an awkward way after making a funny face and my eyes are not permanently crossed.

As I sit here typing with both hands, I realize that I never lost an arm to one of those people that drove by real close and ripped off kid's arms when they hung them out the car window.

I didn't realize until I was about 14 that thunder wasn't clouds bumping into each other.

It wasn't until I was in my mid 20's that I really thought about where the vitamins in a piece of bread are and that they're not actually in the crust.

It's funny to think about the little fibs our parents told us. Whether they were for our own safety, to get us to do what they wanted us to do, or just to shut us up because they didn't really know the answer to one of our questions.

I'm sure there are many more fibs that both my parents told my siblings and me when we were young, but I'm at a loss to think of any as I quickly write this during my lunch hour.

If you have any of these little family fibs you would like to share, please do so. I'd love to hear how much more messed up and misinformed you are then I am. =)

Dollar Tree Delicasies.

So you can probably assume by my previous food posts, I like to eat. I'll eat damn near anything and will certainly TRY anything once.

On my weekly trips to the Dollar Tree Store, I enjoy finding neat little things. You know, things like candles, socks and the occasional box of Arabian Froot Loopies cereal.
For some reason though, I am especially drawn towards the freezer section, so I buy these atrocities, always hoping they'll be delicious.

I mean really, how bad could they be, right?

Dish #1 Mexican Style Beef Enchilada & Tamale Combo

 I don't know about you, but I LOVE Mexican food. I could probably eat it every day and let me tell you, there is no shortage of taquerias in my neighborhood. But who needs a taqueria when you can get delicious foodstuffs like this for the everyday low price of $1?
This looks SO good! I can't WAIT!

 Okay, so it doesn't look quite like the picture, but hey, rarely does a McDonald's cheeseburger, and they're always delicious.

 I've decided that I really could have waited. I can't tell which is the enchilada and which is the tamale either by sight or taste. I wonder how much they pay the employees at the Banquet factory to vomit in tortillas and also, what exactly are they vomiting in them. Probably leftover Salisbury steak is my guess.
Sad to say, but the baby poop refried bean are the high point of this meal and that's not saying much.

Dish #2 Macaroni and Cheese Meal (with rich cheddar cheese sauce)

 Oh how I do love my macaroni and cheese. I actually have an amazing recipe for homemade baked mac & cheese I got from my skank of an ex girlfriend. It's pretty easy to make (and so is she), so I don't see how Banquet could have screwed this one up.

 Okay, so now I see how they could have screwed this up. I don't really even know what to say about this one other than it's apparently a good source of calcium. It's also a good source of explosive diarrhea.
I didn't even want to eat it, but I made myself play "Open the tunnel, here comes the choo choo train" and choked down a couple bites. I guess I could have doctored it up with some rat poison and wood chips or something.

Dish #3  Zesty Smothered Meat Patty Meal

 I just bought this one for the novelty. I can't imagine anyone in their right mind would actually see this and think "Mmmm....that sounds good." I know I didn't.
The presentation on the box is kinda nice though....

The freshly nuked product is not quite so yummy looking. The smell alone was enough to send Tex running for cover. As awful as everything I've tried so far has been, this is definitely the topper, man. I literally had to spit it out.
You have to wonder: Who the hell actually thought that a zesty smothered meat pattie was a good idea in the first place. I dunno, maybe the guy who owns Banquet had a Grandmother that made a really great zesty smothered meat patty or something. If so, somewhere between Grandma's kitchen and the freezer aisle, the recipe was lost. Grandma is turning in her grave.
All I can say is that if I am ever starving on a deserted island with you, a microwave and this meal, you better start runnin'.

I think next time I have the bright idea to do this, I'll just grab a hammer and hit myself with it a few times instead. I don't know what's worse, that I actually ate these damn things or that I'm sitting at home on a Friday night blogging about it.

I'm gonna go lay on the floor and regret this now.

Tums please.