| There was an executive board meeting at my office last Friday. Around lunchtime, one of the meeting attendees came out of the conference room and walked the 50 feet it takes to get to my office door. He asked me to ask the receptionist (who sits 200 feet down the hall) to bring the group some forks. This man works in our office. He knows the kitchen where the forks are kept is located 40 feet from the conference room. Instead of getting them himself, he preferred to walk further to get to my door to ask me to ask somebody else to come from even farther away to bring him forks. My surprise was plastered on my face as I echoed, “Forks?” The man looked annoyed. “Forks. You know. Eating utensils?” He pantomimed eating. Apparently I give off the impression of being a moron. “They’re in the kitchen,” I replied pointedly. “Here, I’ll get them for you.” “Just have the receptionist do it,” he answered and then disappeared back into the conference room. I brought him the forks myself and struggled deeply to not lick each one first. |
Delegation
Because I’ve already spent the past 24 hours talking about this bug.
Yesterday, at an hour early
I arrived at Amy’s, feeling surly.
My Posse friends weren’t even near
When, look, behold, what’s standing here?
So green, so cute, so freaking bright
Standing on my car, this sight!
A bug of some exotic flavor
Upon my car bestowed his favor.
I was filled with joy and so delighted
Surely he had just alighted.
No passenger just clinging lightly
Would survive me taking turns so tightly.
He stood there cleaning his antennae
Crap, words that rhyme with this aren’t many.
I snapped pictures; he seemed so chill
Despite a camera up in his grill.
After photos, I went inside
For all I know, he baked and died.
But later on last night his kin
Chose my outdoor dinner to drop in.
And led to the sharing of this story
About a green bug and all his glory.
But now I think I’ll take a breath
This horse is officially beat to death.
Victory can be yours, for only $59.95/month!
When I first started biking, I was determined to keep it light and fun, nothing too competitive or serious. A few months later, I decided that I was actually going to go to the Olympics. Always keeping it real, that’s me.
After a few months of training myself and struggling to pull together a decent workout plan based on a number of different training approaches/philosophies, I was directed to Alison Dunlap to get personal coaching from a true expert who had done everything I was hoping to do. I’ve been working with her since the beginning of 2008 and she has given me some real gems of insight, including:
“When you do it right, it’s easy. When you do it wrong, it’s not.”
“Try not to eat so much cheese.”
“The rides that make you win races are the ones where the weather sucks, you feel terrible, and you hate your bike.”
“One or two cookies is fine, but twenty?”
“Spin to win!”
All kidding aside, having a coach has made all the difference in the world with my riding. I have an experienced pro telling me when I need to work hard and when I need to rest, things I would otherwise struggle to manage on my own. It also helps to know I have a training plan for each day; there’s no ambiguity, no “I don’t feel like riding today”, no letting myself off the hook. Sure, I miss a ride on essential occasions and I’ll rearrange training rides if life requires it, but since I pay somebody to tell me what to do, I try to actually do it.
The training works. I’m a much stronger, more disciplined rider than I would ever have been without a coach guiding me. Alison has trained me from a Cat 3 mountain biker and a new cross racer to a Cat 1 mountain biker and a Cat 2 cross racer in just over two years, after I’d only been on a bike for six months.
My point is that coaching is the key to improving your riding, even if your goals are slightly more normal (stay in shape, kick that guy’s ass at your local race). Since Alison has helped me so much, I want people to know that (a) as a coach, she rocks, and (b) if you’re not into paying a lot for full coaching, she offers basic plans for $60 a month that will give you everything you need to get better. You can learn more about it here. No, I don’t get anything for referring you (she would probably blush if I mentioned that I’m blogging about her) – I just want people to know that Alison is an awesome, affordable option for a coach.
Just don’t sign up if you’re racing in my class.
Til Death Do Us Part
I got married this past Tuesday.
We’re looking to give the Duggar family a run for their money. Nineteen kids? Pshaw. I plan to birth them in flocks, litters, herds.
Just kidding. We’re on our honeymoon and while Bobby gets ready, I’m watching television. We watch all of our shows on the Internet, so television is a weird thing to enjoy on special occasions. Right now I’m watching these freaks on TLC who have nineteen children. Dude. Nineteen children. You’re not a human at that point; you’re a factory trying to populate a small country.
But back to the marriage thing. I’m excited, to say the least. I still can’t get used to the idea that I married the guy I fell for over ten years ago. I keep thinking about random moments from a decade ago – when I got my first car and took Bobby for a ride in it, when I worked on the tattoo on Bobby’s arm – and then thinking that I married that same guy. So weird. So exciting.
I know this one will stick. It has to, anyway. My dad gave me away during the ceremony and I had to assure him that this time there were no refunds. And also, I’m changing my name and that’s kind of a pain in the butt. I don’t want to have to change it back. And finally, I can’t imagine my life without my wonderful husband.
I’m a lucky, lucky girl.
Love you too, Pops.
“So am I going to walk you down the aisle? Or should you have someone else do it, so that maybe this time it will stick? You’re like a farm animal…I give you away but you keep coming back.”
Lies! All Lies!
Five reasons I am currently VERY tired:
1. We fell asleep lying upside down on the bed with the lights on shortly after midnight. Sometime between 1-2am, Bobby turned off the lights. At 3:11am, Bobby woke me up to tell me to turn around so we could actually use the pillows and covers.
2. Kobe started pacing and grunting around 5am and did not take my attempts to ignore him seriously. He switched to growling softly and endlessly until I relented, got up, and took him and Scout outside. Commence gastrointestinal distress episode THREE MILLION. DOG! Why can you not digest your kibble!
3. Sometime around 6:30am, a piece of shit car parked in the spot directly outside our window and started blasting the best of Hispanic radio. This went on until Bobby peered out window and saw the driver leave the car, silencing the music.
4. This was short-lived. The music began again, followed by the enthusiastic DJ shouting god knows what with far too much enthusiasm. Apparently the driver was back and was reclining in his seat. I lost my mind; it was 6:58am on a Saturday. I put on sweats, stormed outside, and banged on his passenger window. He got out and stared at me. I explained that it was 7am on a Saturday, he was parked outside of people’s bedroom windows, and his music was too loud. He stared at me and got right back in his car without a word.
ANGER. ANGER. FURY.
I yanked open the door and snapped, “You could try being less rude,” and then slammed the door and walked away. A moment of silence and then MUSIC MUSIC MUSIC.
KILL. KILL. KILL.
I opened the door again – he had the decency to look startled, although not nearly afraid enough for my taste – and I snarled, “The alternative is that I call the police.”
Clearly the language barrier was not an issue; the music did not come back on. Instead, he drove away and I mentally congratulated myself for handling this situation better than the last one, in which I may or may not have called the neighborhood tow truck driver a “fucking douchebag” and possibly spit into the open door of his truck.
5. Sleep was no longer an option. We got up for the day so that I could write a post about how the local Chinese restaurant told us a dirty, dirty lie:
Adventures in Domesticity
I offered to bring a vegetable dish to my parents’ house for Easter dinner, but because my weekend has been really busy with riding and work obligations, I asked Bobby to handle making the dish. He fussed, telling me he didn’t know how to cook and didn’t have any interest in learning. I pointed out that even a monkey can follow the directions in a simple recipe, that it wasn’t solely my job to prepare the food, and that he needed to redeem himself after the Let’s Bring Cheesy Mac From A Box To A Wedding incident.
This morning, I gave him some suggestions for easy dishes he could prepare, but evidently he has changed his tune overnight because he shot down my suggestions, saying:
“I want to make something that people will try and be like, ‘Bobby, you made this?’ I want them to put me up on their shoulders and laud me for making the most amazing thing ever.”
He then went on to insist on making something complicated, using what he calls the “trial by fire” method. I hope that doesn’t mean he plans to burn the kitchen to the ground.
Also, I would like to point out that this is the same guy who looked at me kneading Irish soda bread on the countertop a few weeks ago, sighed heavily, and remarked, “Sometimes you undertake projects that stress me out.”
Ten disgusting things you (but never I) may have done in the name of cycling:
1. Blew a snot rocket mid-ride.
2. Blew a snot rocket mid-ride and hit your jersey/shorts/shoe.
3. Spit while riding fast and had it land on your shoulder/splash across your cheek.
4. Pushed your helmet against your head to make all of the sweat pour out.
5. Eaten a fuzzy, sticky Clif Block found in your jersey pocket.
6. Drank the mud splashed across the mouth of a waterbottle.
7. Used a glove as a sweat mop or Kleenex.
8. Picked bugs/dirt out of your teeth after a ride.
9. Smelled something rank and realized it was your gloves or helmet.
10. Peed in the woods and sprinkled your shoes.
Updates that probably warrant their own posts.
1. I am getting married in several months.
2. Evidently, I have anxiety regarding racing that has phobia-like qualities.
3. Despite several recent bouts of nice weather, I cannot bring myself to stop using the trainer for all rides.
4. The mice are still alive. They run on their wheel for approximately 75% of each day. The wheel squeaks loudly 100% of the time that it is in use. I am down to 0.01% of my original desire to own mice.
5. I am leaving my current job this Friday and starting a new one on Monday.
6. For the first time in my life as a dog owner, I wished fiercely that I would come home to a pile of poop on the floor today. No luck.
7. These are my new favorite shoes: http://boutique.vanillabicycles.com/product/the-pit-boot
Happy (It’s) Valentine’s Day
I am tired of people complaining about Valentine’s Day being a commercial holiday invented by Hallmark to make people spend money. Not celebrating Valentine’s Day because you want to ’stick it to the man’ or you want to prove that your loved one loves you ALL 365 days of the year is stupid.
There are only a handful of holidays that people actually celebrate by changing their daily routines and behaving differently. On the 4th of July, Americans fly the flag, have barbecues, and set off explosives. On Halloween, people dress up, find ways to scare themselves, and give/collect candy. On New Year’s Eve, people celebrate the beginning of a new year by getting festively drunk with their friends. And so on. But these “special” days make up only a tiny fraction of an otherwise completely normal year where you get up and live each day ordinarily.
Today is Valentine’s Day – it has a name and a theme and associated colors – and if you aren’t too busy being against this day, it’s a chance to break from your normal, boring routine. You don’t have to buy flowers and chocolate and jewelry. You don’t have to go on a fancy date or even have a significant other. It’s a day about love and surely there is somebody you love, be it your wife, your kid, your best friend, your mom, or even just yourself. Valentine’s Day is a chance to pay a little more attention to that love, even if you do it every other day of the year as well.
It’s your call. If you’d rather pretend today is meaningless and stupid, go for it. Personally, I like days that are supposed to be a little more significant than all of the others on the calendar. I don’t want to shortchange myself a holiday because I’m busy trying to prove that today is just as ordinary as all the others.