meet the news goals: same as the old goals

Just seconds ago, my 2011 triathlon season came to an end.  I did not cross a physical finish line.  In fact, this came three weeks sooner than I had planned and budgeted for.  Yet, it came to an end nonetheless and came to an end the way it should, with joy for what I have accomplished, reflection upon the things I have yet to achieve, and excitement for what is next.

Here is how we got here, exactly.

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Three weeks ago I put together one of the best bike run combos of my training period.  Recovered with a decent run the next day.  Commented to my wife later that night that I felt better than I have ever felt.

A week later I couldn't walk.

In a way, its funny (but mostly just infuriating) how vulnerable we can be when we feel the strongest.  I did not do enough of some basic precautionary things that I [ EVERYONE!!! ] should do when preparing for such a massive event.  More stretching, more resting, more, um, core-ing?   My body fooled my mind.  And in turn my mind screwed my body.

I blame my mind.  I didn't let myself relax, enjoy the process, and be proud of the things I did / have done / was doing.  And so.  My mind and body were completely out of sync.

Thus the giant knot of nerves sitting somewhere in my right ass.  When life sets out to teach you a lesson, irony is it's best tool.

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By many measurements, I've had a ridiculously great year.  I am extremely sad about how this one ended.  But I have a lot to look forward too.

I have a newly learned love for yoga.  A reinvigorated passion for swimming, and swimming well.  I am committed to getting rid of one full day of biking/running/swimming in my training plans in the future for a day of yoga, stretching, core and mind health.  I won my first age group, then did it again.  I knocked 30 mins off my half-iron time -- and had enough in my training to knock another 15.  I've lost another 10 lbs.

My goal when I started the endurance event lifestyle was to lose weight and have fun.  The weight is gone.  Time to bring back the fun. If that means hot yoga and green tea, then judge me all you want.  I'll be too motherfuckin' zen to notice. Bitches*.

*That may or may not be how zen works.  I still got a lot of shit to learn.

scared for america

What has me scared for america?

Debt ceiling debate?
10% unemployment?

Two (seemingly) endless wars we now refuse to pay for?

No. It's this -- https://pastaboat.com/

Every time you ask me, "Shaun, what do you think of genital mutilation?" Every single time I am going to answer, "That is horrible and terrible and should be banned. ALWAYS."

But, if you can't make fucking pasta, that should be grounds for society placing restrictions on you to procreate. Period. End game.

I am totally fine if the recent turmoil in Ingerland is because people just found out that the pasta boat exists.

"What?!? Pasta boat? The fuckall is dat? You 'ere dat Nigel, feckin pasta boat!? Feckin' yanks. Let's burn it all!"

In related news -- triathlon, HOW DEAD WILL IT MAKE YOU!?!

The Hunt

Listen Old Running Man from Staten Island. Don't try and resist the unstoppable running force that is, The Chappie. He will conquer you! The Chappie has been training for this moment his whole damn life.

While you are chowing down on Weetabix; I'm training.

Poppin' your FloMax; I'm training.

Watchin' the Matlock. I'm training.

Okay old man, joke is SO over. Don't f with me. Like the cold hands of death I am gaining on you every second.

You remember that day back in 1943, there was that french girl you never had the balls to kiss?

Yeah, buddy, I'm here to tell you the I kissed her! Oh yes, even though she is well over 80 now, I kissed her. Just to make to make you sweat.

Oh, yeah, nice head band. Real nice. Is that to make up for all the sweat that you got pouring down your head as I come closer to my goal: Your destruction, and humiliation?

Are those blue blockers? No? They look like blue blockers to me. I can't tell exactly from back here as I am, currently, behind you.

But not for long Old Man cause I am LOCKED in.

I see you have a little fight left in you Old Man. You been using the extra strength bengay?

How does it feel to be chased down by someone young enough to be younger than your oldest child, but proabably older than your grandchildren, if you have any. Hmmm? How does that feel?

And how does it feel to know that I SUCK at long division Old Man? That's right. Can't do it. Don't know how to change a $20 bill either.

Oh, and in my day we didn't walk ten miles through snow cause we had Snow Days motha fucka. That's right, snow days. You know what I did on my snow days? Train to whoop your ass.

Boy. I really thought I would have caught you by now.

You are not a man, you are like some bionic running zombie. You aren't close to death you are the undead.

You know what? Whatever! I was just, like, pacing myself for a more important race, you know? Don't want some old fart ruining my game.

Oh shit, is that a cramp? I think that's a cramp. Jesus that hurts.

Well, at least my girlfriend whooped your ass. How does it feel to be beat by a little girl pops? Huh?

How ... does ... that feel?