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.

Why the hell do I even do this?

Today, on my way home from work as I sat on the side of the bike trail for five minutes retching and dry heaving because I inhaled a bug, I (obviously) was thinking about how much it sucked.

Then I got to thinking about all the shitty stuff that’s happened to me over the years while on a bicycle.

Inhaled bugs, dozens of bee stings, gnats in the eyes or pasted to my sweaty arms. Crashes and rashes, sores and boils, broken bones, bad sunburns, failed snot rockets that don’t make it all the way out and come back and hit you in the eye…

I could go on, but I think you get the idea.

I swear, I’ve crashed so damn many times on my mountain bike that I doubt there’s a square mile in the greater Sacramento area that doesn’t have some kind of DNA sample I’ve left behind.

Cycling, for the most part, is miserable. Sure, there are days when it’s warm and pretty out and the birds are singing, flowers are blooming, kittens are prancing and all that happy crap, but for the most part, it’s usually a suffer-fest and I often question why I do it. I like to go fast and to go fast, I have to push myself. When I push myself, my heart, lungs and legs hate me, but I do it anyway.

I’d like to say I have some cool, deep “zen” reason for why I put myself through this stupid activity that I know I complain about a hell of a lot more that I rave about, but I don’t think I do.

Why do I do it?

 I do it because I can and I’m going to keep doing it until I can’t anymore.

 I do it because the human body is an amazing machine and no matter how hard I push it, bend it or break it. It always comes back better than it was before and says “Thank you. Let’s do it again.”

Peace.

What kind of cheap bastard am I?

                  

Anyone who knows me knows I’m just about the cheapest bastard out there. I’m always looking to save a buck or haggle a good deal any day of the week.

I go to garage sales looking for great deals, I buy second hand a lot of the time, hell I even drive to Costco and put up with the “Costco people” just so I can save a few bucks on broccoli, pork chops and spring salad mix.

I’m thinking of this because today has been a day of highs and lows for me in the little world of cheap which I live.

I’ve wanted this particular Garmin GPS heart rate monitor/speedometer/dishwasher watch for some time now, but the damn thing is $399, so I’ve put off getting one. I mean, what the hell kind of person drops that kind of dough on a friggin’watch?

Apparently a person like me.

I went to REI. I walked up to the watch case. I knew what I wanted. I asked the guy to look at it and damn near had an anxiety attack thinking about how I might throw up on the the cashier when he asked me to swipe my card. But I knew I wanted it and I bit the bullet and bought it. It hurt, but I have it and I’m more that elated about it.

No, I don’t “need” this watch, but I think I deserve it. I work hard and well…um…well, I really wanted it.

Anyway…

Jump ahead 30 minutes.

On the way home from REI with my ridiculously expensive new toy, I spy a garage sale and of course, I stop and start rummaging for more crap I don’t need and, low and behold, I see the most beautiful cookie sheet I’ve ever seen. It was like a ray of sun from God was shining on it and angels were singing.

I have one cookie sheet. It’s probably 15 years old, I don’t know where I got it. It’s warped and I’ve probably eaten about 40% of the non-stick surface, because it’s not there anymore.

Anyway, as I’m harboring my excitement, I calmly ask the lady “how much for the cookie sheet?” She replies “$2.00.”

After wincing and playing that poor little me card that ALWAYS works, I say in my sweetest, most suave voice “will you take a dollar for it?”

She said no and wouldn’t budge.

Now the whole mindfuck here is that I wouldn’t pay TWO DOLLARS for that cookie sheet. I told her "sorry, but I have to walk away" and did just that. I walked away from what could have quite possibly been the best deal on a cookie sheet I’ll ever see. Who knows when this is going to come back and bite me in the ass. My guess is the next time I want to make cookies or pigs in a blanket. 

I can only imagine what that woman was thinking.

It was borderline embarrassing to not be willing to pay that extra dollar, but for some reason, I just couldn't do it!

What kind of cheap bastard am I?  Hell I don’t know.

I’m training now and I guess I need a $400 watch more than I need cookies and pigs in a blanket.

Peace.

Every morning I wake up on a diet

Yesterday I saw a commercial for a new reality show about eating disorders and one of the clips they show is a woman that says “Every day I wake up on a diet, and every night I go to bed a failure.”

Man, did those words hit home.

For the past year or so, every day I would wake up and say “I’m going to drink more water. I’m going to eat a healthy lunch. I’m going to make a healthy dinner” and every single day, all that talk would go out the window and I’d eat 4000-5000 calories and hate myself because of it.

It’s no wonder that last year I trained my ass off for an Ironman and only lost about 10 lbs. Thank God I'm at least motivated enough to ride and run. Otherwise I'd be 400 lbs.

Anyway, those days are gone.

After a wetter than usual winter, I have extra lbs and a serious lack of fitness staring me in the face, and with 5 months until my next Ironman, there is NO WAY I’ll be able to post a better time than I did last year if I don’t get off my ass and do something.

So here I am, doing something.

I have committed to changing my eating habits. No, I’m not going on a diet. I’m just eating like I’m supposed to be eating. Like I know I’m supposed to be eating.

 I’m eating whole foods. Natural, beautiful colorful foods and I have to say, I feel better than I have in years.

On top of my regular cycling and running, I’m incorporating daily workouts to focus on other muscle group to enhance my overall well being.

This is going to be a long, hard road for me, but the time is now and as an old hag once told me “Every day counts.”

The sun is finally out, the weather is perfect and I have no excuses. I’ve set my goals and I’m responsible for achieving them. And I will.

I’ll probably be blogging more and more about my workouts, meals and all around training. I will not be posting progress pics, because who the hell wants to see that anyway?

It’ll probably be boring, but you’ll read it and you’ll like it if you know what’s good for you!

Peace!