Tag Archives: humor

The Go Figure Diet

Posted on May 16, 2012 | Leave a comment

Here’s my diet plan…

(You won’t buy it.)

It will have a beautiful, visually appealing yet trendy cover and you will open it to crisp, clean pages of recycled paper…

Page 1:

You are gaining weight because your food intake to activity output ratio is out of whack.

You cannot eat for 3 hours per day and do little to no activity and think you are going to look like this chick:

Hell, I work out 6 days per week and I don’t look that chick.  She is a freak of nature.

That’s  the other thing, getting thin is a consequence of something else; making it your goal will stress you out and puts too much negative focus on yourself.

That would give most people the sads and you should be doing things that give you the not sads.

Making weight-loss a goal is stressful and stress just keeps fat where it is…so that just sort of sucks all around.

If you are an emotional eater like me, that right there could be the trifecta of bullshitzu.  Don’t do it!

Get healthy and the weight will come off…if that is your concern.

You can’t keep taking in and not putting out.  It all has to go somewhere and that place is likely your ass.

That’s where it is on me.

I laid off the working out and freaked out that I gained 5 pounds.

(Herrrrr Derrrrr!)

No shit!

I was oddly surprised that walking from my house to the garage and from the garage to my office building and back, plus 2 bathroom breaks per day, were not giving me 6-pack abs.

(WTF kind of shit is that?)

I did kick the scale to the curb (for the most part) and no longer weigh myself daily, but the toughest part about “dieting” seems to be the common sense part.

First, no dieting.  Diets are stupid.

Second, you have to DO something.  It is that way with life and your body and work and relationships, yada, yada, yada.

If you put nothing into nothing you get…

…6-pack abs!

No.

You get jiggly hips and a larger ass.

Maybe you get some boobies if you are lucky.  (I am not.)

Frankly, you have to figure out if you want to be thinner or healthier and go from there.

If you simply want to be thinner, we are not on the same page but all I can say is…eat less (and better)/workout more.

(Don’t do some stupid shit like not eat or only eat packets of ketchup and a Tic-Tac and call it a “meal” because if you do, you need more than a diet plan; you need a doctor for your head.)

That is the end of the diet plan.

I was 187lbs in 1995 and went from a size 16 to a size 10 in less than 6 months.

I did not follow a diet plan.

I did the following:

  1. watched what I ate (meaning fat grams, not crazy shit like salads and rice patties. I did not exceed 10 grams of fat per day. Yes, it can be done without eating like a rabbit.);
  2. ate 5 meals a day (big meal was lunch and the rest were small);
  3. stopped eating fried food (I had an addiction to Buffalo wings with blue cheese. I still do but now use the sauce and grill shrimp and mushrooms instead and serve on spinach leaves. I also now loathe blue cheese.);
  4. stopped eating portions the size of my head (see photo below);
  5. walked around my parking lot at lunch (you use what you have.)

As many times as I have told the story, I have never had one person try to do it yet I still lot a lot of requests for “help” or “advice” or “tips”.

I assume this is because what I did is free, did not come in a cute and marketable package (other than ME!), and did not happen in 10-14 days.

Yes, sometimes common sense takes a little longer than that quick fix that cost you some money and still has you upset at your body.

Go figure.

The End.

*Disclaimer: This blog is not intended to dispense any medical or nutritional advice.  The views expressed are solely my opinion and based on my personal experience.  Nothing expressed contradicts what is generally accepted as common knowledge other than to those in a suspended state of denial.  That said, I rise to the challenge that should you attempt to follow my personal “diet” plan and get fatter, I will buy you whatever diet plan you choose so long as you provide accurate documentation that you indeed followed the plan and did not drink pitchers of beer and stuff Double Quarter-Pounders with Cheese into your face 5 times per day and called that “common sense” and watching what you ate because your eyes were open.  That said, I would welcome a photo of anyone eating one of those awful things with their eyes open because I do not believe a normal person can look at that shit and still eat it.  Scratch that.  I do not want to encourage any assclowns to take their lives into their hands just to send me a photo that will gross me right the hell out.

I still follow the plan stated above, but I now eat lettuce-free salads and also routinely workout because it keeps me sane, makes me feel good, and because I am socially awkward it provides  me an environment to do weird shit with other freaks.   I do not walk around my work parking lot because it is quite small; I do however regularly run around the athletic track a block away at an embarrassingly slow pace which has been trumped by my race-pace skipping badassness.

If you are short on workout time, I highly encourage skipping…

(Actual skipping, not the the “don’t workout” type of skipping.)

…I also highly encourage the wearing of protective head-gear while skipping if you are cursed with my grace and balance.

Everyone has their own thing, but what I have done for the past 17 years has given me a pretty decent “Go Figure”…and I can dig it.

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The Look Out

Posted on May 15, 2012 | Leave a comment

A perception, an image, a campaign can only last so long before it is either falls into obscurity or the cracks/holes/tarnish to the shiny image begin to appear.

At that point, one can either revamp their campaign/image/public perception or quietly move in another direction.

We all have our images.

I have my public persona, which does not necessarily mesh with my private persona.

Every now and then (typically semi-annually), someone attempts to confuse/exploit the two personas for their own personal gain.

(I remain confused on the alleged gain, so maybe just for amusement…?)

It is generally amusing as those who spend time with me are aware of the two personas and I am confident and comforted by the solidity of those in my personal life.

Without exploiting anyone else, I feel now is a good time for me to point out that just as someone’s  image is their own, so is yours and if you spend your energy focusing on their image, you may forget to polish yours.

(This is not a you specific, but a general “you”; it applies to all people including me.)

Each person will do what they will and decide what they may, but at some point people will recall the energy you spent spreading lies and rumors while the parties about whom you spoke remained silent.

If you yourself do not understand the importance and value in being genuine, at some point the silence from those about whom you speak will be more damaging to your precious image than any words anyone could utter against you.

Look around you.

How many people have you verbally trashed to others?

A rational person would start to question the game being played by a person who yo-yos back and forth between groups of people, depending on whom they believe will most benefit them at a particular time.

A rational person would start to put the things you say (and do) together without anyone having to guide them.

Someone with cracks in their foundation might commence on repairing those cracks before the mass of untruths they carry proves to be too heavy to be supported.

Perhaps not everyone is keeping their mouth shut about your actions…

(That sort of sucks, yeah?)

Possibly, some disregard the adorably inconsistent “grapevine” for what they witness with their own eyes…

Whatever the reasons you tell yourself to justify your lies and your actions, I trust it provides you some obscene comfort that I hope to never comprehend.

I would love for you to leave me out of your mess(es); they have zero to do with me.

I separated  and removed myself from people like you long ago for this reason.

Trying to knock me down does little to detract from your own issues and just makes you look like a jerk…because oft times there were (and are) too many witnesses (aka “people with eyes whom have not received a frontal lobotomy”) to the truth.

…and too many people with the same story/experience/vision.

Unlike the interwebs and social media, in real life, you cannot filter who sees the things you do if you choose to do them publicly.

(Ex: When no one is around, I choose to lay around in my underwear and use my dog as a pillow while I read.  You would not know this if I had not typed it because I do not do this in front of people.  That is called “private”.)

Now you know.  It is now “public”.

See how that works?

(It’s easy; you try it!)

I speak from personal experience when I say that the quickest way to repair your image once you have tarnished it is to shut your mouth…

(The second easiest thing is to hire a “public relations professional” to make with the fixing/spinning of your broken image.)

I am a financially challenged individual and somewhat of a “do-it-yourselfer” type of gal, so I opt for the shutting up these days.

I assure you, you will feel better about yourself by saying less…and it takes far less energy.

Believe me, a small part of me wants to stand on a rooftop with a megaphone and blurt out the contradictions in the stories when I hear them…but a bigger part of me realizes that I am not the person(s) spreading bullshit or screwing anyone over, so therefor the issues aren’t mine…and that makes me smile instead of making that wrinkle-inducing frowny thing that I used to get a lot.

I have a pretty good view from up here in my imaginary tree-house and I can look down or I can look out.

I choose to look out.

The view is frankly beautiful when you rise above the bullshit.

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Holding My Line

Posted on May 2, 2012 | Leave a comment

Oh sweet Universe, this has been a trying week!

WOOO!

I am not going to get up on a soap box and attempt to pontificate about how one should handle matters when tossed a heap of crap, because I am me and not you.

What I can say is that while I feel anger about the actions of another/others and frustrated by their lies, negativity, and general poor choices, I realize that it was a “teachable moment” for me as well.

I wanted to contact the parties and rip them collective new assholes with a chainsaw.  Sideways.

But, I breathed for a moment and asked myself if there was anything I could or would have done differently in my prior interactions with the parties and my answer is, no.

Other than to have never associated with them in the first place, there is nothing I would change as  they have taught me a lot about myself and I can see that evolution in myself.

I mostly felt sadness atop the anger regarding their actions…but the sadness was not  for me.

(Wow!  That sounds semi-douchey, yeah?)

Alright, I will wax philosophical a bit…

I felt and still feel genuine sadness for people (all people) who are so angry at life and themselves that they project and go about their lives thrilling in wreaking havoc, spreading negativity, and being generally toxic in nature toward others….and themselves.

I will say this, as I have before, allow actions to speak louder than words, but use your ears to listen not only to what is said but the manner in which things are said.

If someone is constantly knocking down others, blaming others, or gossiping about others, don’t allow them to make their issues yours.

People do fucked up things everyday.

All people screw up everyday.

I have my own set of issues and mistakes; I don’t need to take on anyone else’s.

Everyone has their own set of ethics and codes and maybe those do not fall in line with yours.

I am no saint.  I am no angel.  I am a bitch.  I am direct.  I lack sugar-coated fairy dust.

…but I don’t covet what I do not have (aside from bikes and shoes) and I do not take what is not mine.

I am too lazy to stalk.

Too bored to gossip.

Too germophobe and OCD to want anyone’s sloppy seconds.

Too comfortable in my own skin to think my vagina is mightier than my mind.

Typically, I will ignore a lie or gossip unless it is particularly hurtful to either myself or my friends.

…and the recent item(s) is/are dripping in sad and semi-tragic/semi-amusing irony…which lightens up any sadness I feel about how people act toward each other.

I have always maintained that I will stand by my principles and regardless of how unpopular they are, my line will hold.

My line holds now.  It is as constant as the sun.  I have more faith in that than I do in image or perception…or gossip.

Actions will always speak louder than words…no matter how loud or how mean or how big the smile when the tale is told.

“How people treat you is their karma; how you react is yours. ” 
― Wayne W. Dyer

When I disturb shit, I get shit.  Some people are just on a grander scale than me with regard to shit…and I can live with that.

*bigger smile* 

Peace.

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The Hilarious Misadventures of a CX Girl in a Tri World

Posted on April 30, 2012 | 2 Comments

Well HELLLLLLO!  How’re YOU doin’?!?!

Me?  I’m good.

As a matter of fact, I am frickin’ spectacular!

Why, you ask?

Because that dog-forsaken road tri (The Steamboat Classic) is over and I can go back to being normal, TT-hating Cory.

WOO HOO!

To be clear, The Steamboat Classic was a super fun, well-organized event.  The people were super cool and oddly normal…and calm.  It was a rather cool deal.

Because so many of you have been right there on the edge of your collective seats just WAITING to hear all the hilarious details of a tri-hater gone tri, here I am to spill the awesomeness.

What is awesome?

I am!

Hahaha!

You know why?

Because I did that shiznit in under 2 hours (1:58:49) when it was guessed I would do it under 2.5 hours and I knew that the girl who won my age category last year was at 1:54…or at least that is the number I had in my head.

But wait…that is not the actual awesome part.  There are a few…and they are ALL very funny (and rather amazing!)

Here we go…

First, this was my first time in a 50 meter pool.

Yeah…I actually refused to warm up in it and for the first few minutes, I wouldn’t even look at it.

(That sounds like an AWESOME start to a tri, yeah?)

So then we all had to line up based on our projected swim times and there was not a sign for “Swims Like a Rock”, which coincidentally is the true meaning of my name, if you did not know that.

So, I had to line up in a 14-15 minute section or stand alone in the 18 minute section…and even that seemed pretty fast for me.

I met some really funny ladies while we chatted about how slow we all are and one said to me (I think because I had on the most awesome Black Sheep Cartel tri suit ever), “I am not going in front of you.  I bet you act like you are slow and are really fast.  You are freaking me out.”

I literally cracked up.

“Ummm, no.  I promise you that when I say that I do not train on the swim and that my only hope is to not die and not walk the swim, I am not being humble.  If I could use Disney Princess floaties on my arms, I would.”

I told her that I would likely backstroke the entire swim.  She looked at me as if I had 3 heads.  I get that a lot, actually.

Sadly, she did not buy that and made me go in front of her.

We stood on the pool deck forever/an HOUR (whichever comes first) while the swimmers took off one by one in 20 second intervals, so we all got to know each other pretty well.

I think I bonded a bit more with Chris, who is a mtb’er and it was her first tri as well.

She had been training hard on the swim and I was pulling for her.  I decided to make her my rabbit.

She went off just before me and while it would have been cool to use her to pace me, 25 meters into the first lap, I freaked out and had to flip over to backstroke.

Chris/rabbit who…?

No worries, I thought.  I will alternate.

Yeah…no.

I backstroked.

Every lap.

In a serpentine swim.

Stephanie, the lady who doubted my swimming “prowess”, caught me at the wall with 3 laps to go and I let her pass..but then caught her…while still doing the backstroke.

That part felt good actually and I relaxed.

Plus, my lungs were not as shot as they would have been if I had you know…actually free-styled.

SCORE!

Hey, I was told not to waste my energy on the swim and I didn’t; just time.

We start laughing as we climbed out of the pool with an “I told you so!” and we were off to T1.

Here is where I lost an extra 2 minutes.

My crap was laid out nicely and I got it on wicked quick, but I chatted with some people, looked at Karl’s bike computer in amazement because he was already done with the ride, screwed around with my Strava, and then did a cx bike mount and off I rode.

I knew that Chris/rabbit was out there somewhere, but where???

I also knew that I had to DO something on the bike because I am allegedly a bike racer.

While true, I am not a road racer or a TT’er, I still pedal regularly (allegedly) and  this should (SHOULD) be the easy part for me.

I had on that goofy TT helmet (which I secretly love and always have because it is pretty), and got out of the saddle to chase on to someone…anyone.

In my mind, I am dead last in the swim (it turns out that was correct) and I needed to make up some time.

Now, if you have ever read any of my previous blogs from back when I did race the skinny tires, you know that weird things happen to me when I have a number pinned/strapped to my person and I get on George, the road bike.

I freak out.

I stop breathing like a human.

I spazz;  I cry;  I vomit; I get in a fetal position on the front lawns of strangers…

I hate road racing OHHHHHH so much.

Some would argue that I hate it because I am bad at it and I would argue the opposite.  I am bad at LOTS of things and bad at all stuff which involves a “Start” and a “Finish”, but nothing freaks me out like racing my bike on the road.

OK, so you will be impressed to know that none of that ewwwwey stuff happened yesterday.

I simply breathed like a human being while not riding as if I was on a Sunday stroll in the park with the purse pooch and actually did some passing of people.

It was nice….and new for me.

Now, I will not pretend that I was as fast as my lady roadie friends who shred the legs of mortals, but I ended up second on the bike leg and old George was naked as a jay bird of any TT’ing components.

No aero bars; no wicked rims.

I just rode in the “praying mantis” position taught by my teammate Gina Poertner…and it worked.  I felt very calm and relaxed…and grateful.

Chris (my rabbit) was the 3rd person of 8 that I passed and I knew I had to keep moving so that I could make up the time lost in the swim.

She cheered me on as I rode and I was really happy to have met her.

The bike course had some pretty cute hills and this worked out for me.  Had it been a straight, flat course I would be sitting in a corner and pouting.

But, it wasn’t and so I am not.

(YAY, HILLS!)

I rode back into transition feeling really good.

Karl was on his transition mat and done with his race.  We chatted while I figured out what I was (and was not) taking on the run.

(Another 2 minutes lost.  GRRRRR!)

Now, I always run with my phone because it has my Strava and I like to see the miles.

Also, for some reason if I fell apart on the run, I would have tunes and games on my phone to amuse me (in case I have to await an ambulance or other rescue vehicle).

Karl said, “It’s not likely anyone is going to call you,” and laughed.

So very funny, that one.  F*cker.

True…but had I known what he could (and yet did not) tell me about how unmarked the run course was, I would have taken the phone.

As he did not (and I like to blame him for shit that really makes no difference), I left without my Strava/phone.

Booooooo!

When I started the run, I felt wonky.

I got a sharp side stitch and tried to work it out by jamming my fingers under by ribs.

I pulled over and did some Vinyasa to work it out and calm me.

So this is where the other amazing part of my race comes in (because the bike part was not amazing; only abnormal for me).

Each time I would start to run, this knifing pain would slice me.

As I ran past the hospital, I looked at it and wondered if it was challenging me.

It seemed as if that asshole hospital was calling my name on the wind and playing  Jedi mind tricks with me.

Well, I out Jedi’d the little bastard because I ran on…but not very far.  Just far enough that I would have to go backwards to get to it and you don’t go backwards on the race course.  So there you go.

I could not get my running right and so like any other crazy person would do (especially one who knows that not many people are behind them in a race), I started talking to myself.

I mean, I was sort of letting myself have it…talking myself out of being mind-fucked and lame.

I was shocked that I was struggling with the run because that is the one thing I have actually been doing lately.

It was “killing” me not to know how far I had gone.  I do really well with making my runs into little victories.  When I do not know my distance, I sort of fall apart like the true baby that I am.

Little victories, people.  Little victories.

I need goals (and victories), and running for the sake of running is just stupid…unless of course we are discussing machete-chasing incidents which rarely if ever happen.

When I say I was struggling, I mean I was struggling like I did on my very first attempt at running when I was a wee lass.

I would run a block and then would switch to that geriatric mall walker bullshit you see early in the mornings if you find yourself in need of retail therapy.

Then I started calling myself a mall-walking lame ass and that made me feel really, REALLY old.  And lame.  But mostly old.

So then, I pulled out a move that would not only save me physically, it would save me mentally.

This move is so ninja it didn’t even know it was ninja.

Ready…?

Are you sure?

Because once I tell you my secret to finishing my run at an 8:54 pace, you cannot un-know this information and you will want to bow down to my awesome ninjaness.

It will change the way you look at me and if you don’t smile, you are either dead inside or so up your own triathlete-ass that you forgot how to have a little fun.

Ready…?

I skipped.

I skipped my run.

Not, “stopped doing it and ended my race and therefor not finishing”.

I mean, I skipped like a four-year old child with a puppy and an ice cream cone on a sunny day.

Not only that, but as Chris/rabbit (who was behind me) would tell me later, I skipped my happy ass a block off the course and did a little extra.

BAM!

She kept calling out to me, but I was in my ninja zen mode and could not hear a thing.

Now, of course when I took the last two turns I started running like Forest Gump, but frankly, felt a lot better…and still have my toenails and knees in tact.

I crossed the line and was so happy to have a sweet man there to bend down and kiss my feet…

Oh…wait…nope…he was just taking off my timing chip.

Dammit.

Oh well; he gave me a fist bump and I was done and there were still people out there so I knew I was not DFL, so that was good.  For me.

Now, at this point I was pretty sure in my mind that the ”run” took me 90 minutes to match my physical age of 90, because why would I not think that?

There were hills, I was delirious and talking to myself….and skipping.

(OK, even Betty White doesn’t skip and she is saucy, but you get it.)

I met up with Cristel and Karl, showered, and headed over to a super yummy brunch and award ceremony.

(Yes, I ate the award ceremony.)

*shakes head*

It is after all this that I saw the results.

Holy crapcakes!

My actual time is 1:58:49.

I did it!  I am under 2 hours and nothing else matters about the whole event in that moment except that I am not dead, I did not quit, and I am under 2 hours…

…until Karl sent me the splits and I saw my run time.

*gives mind-blown gesture*

8:54 pace.  3rd place in the run…skipping and geriatric mall-walking.

2nd on the bike and 3rd in the run…in a field of more than 3…and 6th place in my category.

(GO ME!!!)

We are off to see the Wizard indeed!

While all of this makes me happy, I am a realist to know I cannot pull that skipping nonsense in the XTERRA, but for today, I am wickedly ecstatic.

…and I think Anna is smiling too.

I have taken a lot of heat in the past 24 hours for doing this triathlon and all I can say is that I brought to it the cx spirit of fun and bad-assery that would make my dirty pink teammates proud.

Plus, Michelle called me “one of those mean cx girls”, so I knocked her lights out and took her trophy.

The end.

Bring on the dirt!

*Note: No Michelles in the hurt in the writing of this blog or the racing of this event.

All photo credit goes to Yvette Liebesman and Brent Newman.

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With the Paws of a Polar Bear

Posted on April 24, 2012 | Leave a comment

Alrighty…so remember yesterday when I claimed to be “semi-sane and semi-rational”?

Yeah.  Right.

So, I did some rethinking of the Steamboat Classic Triathlon on which I was bailing and came up with some decently valid reasons not to skip it.

Actually, the reasons to not skip it are significantly stronger than the reasons to skip it.

Reason to skip #1: I have not been swimming.

(OH MY GAWD!  I hate the swim so, so, SOOOOO much!  My dog is better at the structured swim than I am.)

You have heard this from me before, yes?

Meh.  That is an excuse.  So what that I haven’t swam much.  I suck at the structured swim no matter how much I practice so that is a lame-assed reason.

The swim is only a 450 meter serpentine, so I really have zero excuses here.  If anything, the swim is easier because I don’t have to count.

(Hey, I only learned how to pedal and spit without wrecking last year, so I need to pace myself with the multitasking business.  Sometimes when I am focused on laps, I forget to breathe…which could make for a bad day in the water, yeah?)

Reason to skip #2:  I have had a very emotional 2 weeks with all that has gone on with Anna and her subsequent passing and I feel emotionally and physically drained.

PSHHHHH!  I need to get the feck over that nonsense and get back out there.  I actually felt Anna shake her head at me when I decided against the tri yesterday.

Not to mention, I have actually been running, so I at least have that covered.

I rode my bike a few times and I still remember how, so that’s good.  It’s not a road race or a crit so no one will be near my wheels…or turning into me, so there is no fear factor.

I have to run and ride on Sunday anyway, so really…I can’t even hard sell myself on this excuse.

Reason to skip #3:  I am having hot flashes like a futha mucker, I am eating my emotions, and my body is a mess!

Sweet Mary Chain.  Even I am rolling my eyes at this one.

I am having hot flashes because I took myself off the hormones last month because I didn’t like what they were doing to my emotions and now I have the flashes.  So what?

With the hormones I am a weepy mess with an increased risk of breast cancer which is no bueno for Cory.  Now I have the hot flashes, but so long as they don’t happen during an event, I will be fine.  If they happen during an event, I will need to stop for a moment to get it under control.  If it happens in the water, I will have to back-stroke the swim but since that may happen anyway, who am I kidding?  Not even myself.

I gained 3 pounds eating my emotions the past week.  Whatever.  I recognized it and will likely lose 2 by the event just by eating like a normal human instead of a wolf.  Even if I don’t lose it by Sunday, I will live….assuming that I do not fall off the toilet before then.  It’s not a runway and a third of the event is under water anyway.  I’ll just wear a low-cut sport bra to push up the girls and draw the eyes up, up, up.

(Don’t act like this is not a little bit genius or that you didn’t know I am at least mildly vain about ridiculous shit.  I am and you find that amusing.  Admit it.)

OK, so now for the reasons to race…

Reason to race #1:  I want to.

Period.

(That’s was easy, right?)

Weird, but easy.

Reason to race #2:  A friend asked me to play golf of Saturday and if I do not race, I really do not have a valid reason to skip golf other than…you know… it being golf and all that.  Ironically, the golf invite comes from a member of the M-Dot Posse and really, how much of his crazy shit does he think I am willing to do?!  I believe this golf thing to be a sick ploy on his part to get me to do the tri.

I am on to you, Ironboy.  Believe that!

*raises eyebrow wickedly*

See how much golf sucks? I am willing to drive 124 miles to swim instead of looking goofy in khakis and wearing ugly shoes.

Oy.

Reason to race #3:  My first real event is the XTERRA Scales Lake on June 23rd.  The tri this weekend is my only chance to do an outdoor event before then and I really want to practice my transitions…which I think are the only thing that I have going for me speed-wise.

It would be logical for me to do an outdoor event prior to the event I care about, right?  RIIIIIIGHT?!?!

(Just nod your head.)

Reason to race #4:  I made a commitment to myself and my friends and we are going to have a blast!  Additionally, it is going to feel really good to complete this goal with my friends, all of whom have been super awesome (and patient) to/with me while I figured this out.

Reason to race #5:  My daughter will be proud of me because she knows how nervous the swim makes me.  This is a “teachable moment” for both of us and I need to follow through with it.

Reason to race #6:  I just publicly called out my own bullshit, so now I have to race and hold myself accountable.

OK, so there you have it.  That is a taste of the zero-cat-crazy that rolls around in my head while I lie in bed staring at the ceiling fan and pondering my daily decisions.

For the record, I decided not to swim yesterday, so that was a poor choice.

(See? I am a hot mess!)

The Sass is holding me accountable tonight though, so our swim suits are packed and loaded in the velowagon and we are heading straight to the pool after work/school and getting to business (for me) and fun (for both).

She is my coach this week and is keeping me in line.  We watched the polar bears swim in a documentary on Sunday and this morning she reminded me to swim like them and not use my legs much.  (Good advice, actually!)

Yeah, yeah…if only I had paws like a polar bear…I could do lots of cool stuff!

*grin*

That kid is going to keep me young; I gotta love that!

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A Funny End to an Unfunny Story

Posted on April 20, 2012 | Leave a comment

Yesterday, Anna was laid to rest in Brooklyn, NY.

I was unable to attend and we instead created a memorial to her here in St. Louis.

I loaded up the memorial wheel and all I would need for our little ceremony into my wheel bag, strapped it around my shoulders, climbed onto my mtb bike, and started the trek to the spot with Cristel and Ruby.

This particular trail is pretty rocky and is made “fun” and funny when one has a giant wheel bag strapped to their person and that wheel bag contains not only the memorial wheel, but bags of Skittles, a martini, a martini glass, ribbon, wire, tools, and a sandwich…just in case.

It was difficult not to laugh (as Cristel and I did) while we climbed our way up.

Once to the peak, we decided on the perfect spot and did what we needed to do to make it perfect for Anna.

We secured the wheel with some light wire and arranged some rocks to help secure it and stood silently for a moment.

I grabbed the Skittles and poured some into a sealed container and placed them next to the memorial for her.

Anna loved Skittles and had wanted me to sneak her one last Friday…but we couldn’t because she was severely diabetic, was struggling health-wise (clearly) and was unable to take in solids.

I wish now that I had given her the damn Skittle.  Instead, I got her a mango iced fruit bar and told her it was a margarita.  She liked it.

Now, Anna is getting her Skittles.  Wild Berry.

I poured some Skittles into the martini glass and poured over the magic lemonade martini and stood looking at her.

Cristel and I wrapped arms and she said a beautiful prayer.

Then it was on me…

I was speechless as I stared at Anna and thought of all the things that she had been through.

All the things that she taught me.

All that she gave to us….

…which was everything she had…all the time.

I thought about a letter she had received from my grandmother when I was little and how that note had devastated Anna.

I thought about the letter I had written Anna after that…when she was moving out of the family home.

I thought about how Lisa had found both letters at Anna’s apartment when she died.

They were written in 1984.

I ended up apologizing to Anna for all of us…and thanking her for everything.

I felt sad and drained and filled with remorse for how my grandparents had treated her and felt pride for how Anna carried herself and didn’t speak ill of either of them.

If I am lucky enough to live to be 85, that means I still have 45 years to treat people the way Anna did, so it’s not too late for me….or any of us.

I hugged my friend tight, took a sip of the Skittles martini, sprinkled a drop on the flower petals, tossed the rest and climbed back on my bike.

We sat there for a moment taking in the view that Anna would have and exhaled.

The ride back down the hill oddly enough has both ups and downs…and bushes with razor-sharp thorns.

I happened to tango with a branch of one of these “fun” bushes as I descended and ended up with more than a few adorable thorns in my fingers, hand, and bar grip.

As soon as I pulled them out, I of course gushed blood because I am a bleeder, so that was cute.

(I promise I am going somewhere with these details…bare with me…)

There were sections of the trail that had to be walked and bikes carried due to the wetness of the trail in those spots, so I ended up a little muddy…

As we got back to the car, I said goodbye to C & R and headed out.

As soon as I got in the car, the tears came.

Pure, loud, ugly-face sobs…

Snot dripping, eye-puffing messiness.

It was a great!

I drove to the gym to get my 5K in and walked slowly to the entrance…completely unaware of how I looked.

As I checked in, this is what the attendant saw…

What a sight!

Messy, dirty, bloody lady with tear streaks and dried snot.

Awesomeness.

“Are you OK, Cory?” he said.

“Yes….I’m sorry.  We just buried my aunt today and I am a bit of a mess.”

[Long, LONNNNNNNG pause here while the look on his face registers in my brain.]

“Oh my god!  No!  I didn’t KILL her! She’s in Brooklyn, NY!  I SWEAR!  Today was her funeral and we just placed a memorial to her up on a bluff and I got my ass kicked by some thorns….”

He raised his eyebrow impressively and I started to laugh.

“I swear!” I said.

I’m still not sure he believed me…but it felt great to laugh.

I’m sure Anna laughed too.

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Kindergarten Reminders

Posted on April 10, 2012 | Leave a comment

A friend and I were discussing one of my favorite short essays while dissecting human behavior and how to treat others and live a simple life.

My friend asked me to send them the essay and in doing so, I decided to post it here because there really is never a bad time for a refresher course.

If we take a look at the world around us, it appears many have forgotten Kindergarten and how easy and happy things were back then.

While there isn’t anything in the essay about shooting random people or even shooting/stabbing/killing not-so-random people, I think it was simply presumed that even the youngest child understands that that is a “NO!” item.

It doesn’t address lying or gossiping or rumor spreading or bullying directly, but those fall under the umbrella of “playing fair”, even if you don’t think so.  They do.

The “share everything” item probably does not consider disease or spouses or flatulence or videos of your cat(s), so maybe don’t do that, but if it’s a good thing…share it.

It doesn’t address drugs and putting Drano or Liquid Plumber in your blood stream, but maybe don’t do those things either. Balance is one thing; stupid is another.

Hey, I’m no brain child and certainly no saint and if you are reading this, then you know me and you likely are no saint either because those people are a little dead and that’s just creepy.

Read on and have fun!

Peace, love, and mud,

CR

All I Really Need To Know I Learned In Kindergarten 

by Robert Fulghum

All I really need to know I learned in kindergarten.
ALL I REALLY NEED TO KNOW about how to live and what to do
and how to be I learned in kindergarten. Wisdom was not
at the top of the graduate-school mountain, but there in the
sandpile at Sunday School. These are the things I learned:

Share everything.

Play fair.

Don’t hit people.

Put things back where you found them.

Clean up your own mess.

Don’t take things that aren’t yours.

Say you’re sorry when you hurt somebody.

Wash your hands before you eat.

Flush.

Warm cookies and cold milk are good for you.

Live a balanced life – learn some and think some
and draw and paint and sing and dance and play
and work every day some.

Take a nap every afternoon.

When you go out into the world, watch out for traffic,
hold hands, and stick together.

Be aware of wonder.
Remember the little seed in the styrofoam cup:
The roots go down and the plant goes up and nobody
really knows how or why, but we are all like that.

Goldfish and hamsters and white mice and even
the little seed in the Styrofoam cup – they all die.
So do we.

And then remember the Dick-and-Jane books
and the first word you learned – the biggest
word of all – LOOK.

Everything you need to know is in there somewhere.
The Golden Rule and love and basic sanitation.
Ecology and politics and equality and sane living.

Take any of those items and extrapolate it into
sophisticated adult terms and apply it to your
family life or your work or your government or
your world and it holds true and clear and firm.
Think what a better world it would be if
all – the whole world – had cookies and milk about
three o’clock every afternoon and then lay down with
our blankies for a nap. Or if all governments
had a basic policy to always put thing back where
they found them and to clean up their own mess.

And it is still true, no matter how old you
are – when you go out into the world, it is best
to hold hands and stick together.

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A Rather Wise-Arsed Easter Bunny

Posted on April 9, 2012 | 2 Comments

Here we go.  Time for me to blurt out my feelings on Easter and that effing bunny and my semi-irrational loathing of a mostly harmless holiday.

(Lucky you!)

Every year I go through this…well…every year since becoming a parent, because frankly after 1981 I just stopped with the Easter except when I had to fake it at school.  (Because I went to Catholic school and they are down with The Stations of the Cross every Friday in Lent and they seemed to wait all year (ALL YEAR!) to tell the bloody awful story of Good Friday and Jesus, the Everloving Zombie.)

To be clear, I am not going to focus on the religious aspect of Easter at all, because Zombie Jesus and I are cool.  Frankly, Easter was a big “cross” weekend for my hippie friend, and his podium freed people’s souls while my podiums yielded 6-packs of wheat  Anheuser Busch products, thus proving that:  A) There is a Satan, and B) that my soul is worth about $6.  Awesome.

My gripe with Easter is now and has been since I was 8-years old, that effing freaktastic bunny.

First, yes I have researched why the hell there is the bunny and the eggs and I still scratch my head over how it has anything to do with Jesus, but whatever.  The trees at Christmas have nothing to do with him either, so I get that people are just weird.

We all know why I hate the Easter Bunny.  If you do not and you have a particularly boring life, you can read about the mess that is my mum and the Easter Bunny here.

If you do not want to read there, to sum it up, my mom started a chocolate business when I was 8 years old.  That business ruined me on milk chocolate and Easter bunnies forever because my mom’s Easter bunnies had penises.  Not just penises, but “camera ready” penises.

Fast forward to having children of my own and taking your kid to see the Easter Bunny at the mall…

Ty went exactly twice and I felt dirty.

Maybe you don’t feel like putting your kid on the lap of a rodent with an erection.  I didn’t.  The Sass has never met the Easter Bunny.

We have pointed and waved when in the mall, but otherwise no.

This year brings a certain relief to the whole thing though.  Almost as if the Easter story has been building in my 8-year old self.

Yesterday was the first time that I have ever (EVER) bought a chocolate Easter rodent for any child.

My kids always get baskets that would put the strongest ant in a coma, but never any bunnies.

I hate those effing things!

The chocolate ones; not the fuzzy little hoppers who sometimes like to commit suicide via lawnmower.

Thanks to my mom’s cute little business venture, I can’t even look at an Easter Bunny without feeling like I am going to bust out in a Tourettes-like episode and start yelling “PENISES!“

Well, The Sass likes chocolate and she gave it up for Lent, so I knew all she wanted was chocolate in that basket.

I walked into the store and there they were…in that special isle for dirty little things…the Easter Bunny isle.

Dammit.

I looked that little fugger with its beady little candy eyes and let my eyes drop to check if there was a penis.  None.  SCORE!

I picked out two bunnies in her favorite flavors and suddenly felt like I did the first time I realized I had a little ring on my bike while climbing a hill…

Hmmm…this is not that difficult.

I decided to pick a few more chocolatey bunnies for my friend’s kiddos.  I even tossed in a few obnoxious Peeps and jelly beans.

Hey!  Look at me making a basket with CHOCOLATE in it!  Woo Hoo!

I damn near skipped/tripped to the velowagon and started arranging Sass’ basket right then and there so I could act a fool when I got home.

Just then I heard a text notification on my cell and picked it up.

“Happy Easter. LOL -Mom”

I immediately got the raised eye brow/smirk combo and started laughing.

That bitch.  I was actually impressed with her ability to be such a wise ass and it made me happy that we can joke about the things that have cost me gajillions of dollars in therapy, bikes, and shoes (mostly shoes and bikes).

God love her…because she is a beautiful little mess and I am all booked up with my own issues.

The Sass giggled like a cartoon version of herself when she saw the basket and nicely eased herself into a genuine chocolate coma by 2pm.

For the first time in many, many, MANY years…I had a pretty fantastic Easter…and I hope you all did too.

*Disclaimer: This post is not to make fun of Jesus, Catholics, bunnies, or moms who make perverted chocolates.  I have never run over a real bunny with a lawnmower.  In fact, I have not used a lawnmower since circa 1986, so there you go.  While I have made my peace with the chocolate bunnies, I am still wicked freaked by those assholes in the costume in the mall but mostly because any adult in a costume who pleasures having little kids sit on their lap freaks me out and it is simply better for all parties that I am nowhere near such people.  I’m sure most are fantastic humans, but it really only takes one to fuck that shit up for everyone.  Some people hate clowns; I hate Santa and the Easter Bunny.  Let it lie.  I feel really fortunate to have made the journey I have with my mom and am even more fortunate that she found her way out of the darkness and decided to live.  While the child in me will always feel sad that I didn’t have a mom, I am happy that the mom in me is happy to have her now…and so is my daughter, who is thoroughly amused by my mom and her ranch/farm of misfit animals.

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Who Am I – Questions 21-30

Posted on April 3, 2012 | Leave a comment

It is that time again! It’s time for me to revisit The Feel Good Tribe’s 95 Questions to Help You Find Meaning and Happiness and get on with another section of the list.  This time, questions 21-30 (Just as the title states above.  Clever, huh?) 

What are you most grateful for?

My children; without them, my life would have been very different, very empty, and I likely never would have become a fighter or a survivor.  I didn’t really understand the concept of giggling until I met Tyler.  I came out of the womb 60 years old and fun was something I just didn’t “get”.  I am happy that my kids are not only the silliest, funniest, and wittiest people I know, but that they encourage me to laugh and goof off with them.  It’s really tough to top that when I look at my list.

What is worth the pain?

My children.  BELIEVE!  Ty came out in 2.5 hours without pain meds or episiotomy.  Life is also worth the pain.  There is far more good to be experienced than bad and even the pain feels fantastic…once it’s over.  (That last part is the real kicker though.)

In order of importance, how would you rank: happiness, money, love, health, fame?  

  1. Love
  2. Happiness
  3. Health
  4. Money
  5. Fame (BLEH!)

What is something you’ve always wanted, but don’t yet have?

Six-pack abs (which I must not actually want because they are not all that difficult to achieve), a debt-free home, and good hair.  I have everything else I need/want…but if you are feeling generous, I can always use more bikes; there are 2 types which would make my collection complete, so get on that, mmmkay?

The “sick” thing is something I have wanted fixed since 1999, but everyone is doing what we can and it really doesn’t bother me so much as it freaks me out some days.

What was the most defining moment in your life during this past year?

Being strong enough to silently stand up and walk away regardless of public opinion or perception.  My reaction to certain events was far different and I imagine it always will be from this point forward.

What’s the number one change you need to make in your life in the next twelve months?

Making my daughter proud and instilling in her the confidence that she doesn’t have to put up with abuse or bullshit before the concept of complacency is imprinted on her soul.

What’s the number one thing you want to achieve in the next five years?

The ability and confidence to trust more people outside of my current circle of protectors.

What is the biggest motivator in your life right now?

I am.  Derrrr.  The mistakes I have made over the past year are providing quite the motivation, but I have also learned a lot about myself and others and that makes things better/easier.

What will you never do?

Say “never”.  Wait…I feel ridiculously confident that I will never:

  1. Eat monkey brains;
  2. Eat bull testicles…or any other testicles (sorry, fellas!);
  3. Shoot/smoke/pop heroin…or crack…or dog-forbid crystal meth (WTF are THOSE people doing???);
  4. Have plastic surgery on my face for cosmetic reasons (unless a dog, chimp, or other tragic accident has occurred and then HELL yes!  Bring it!)
  5. Speak in Tongues;
  6. Buy a Geo Metro;
  7. Drink black coffee;
  8. Like beer;
  9. Own a goat…or a cat.

What’s something you said you’d never do, but have since done?

So, so, SOOOOOO many things!  Here are a few:

  1. Have children;
  2. Get married;
  3. Race a bike;
  4. Run;
  5. Go to Las Vegas;
  6. Enter a triathlon;
  7. Date a red-head [waves at ex, Dre!];
  8. Date a French National citizen [waves at Dre again…];
  9. Date a red-headed French National citizen from Kansas City for fuck’s sake!  [*squeezes to Dre!*];
  10. Own a station wagon;
  11. Buy a Chrysler product;
  12. Work in construction…

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Who Am I – Questions 11-20

Posted on March 13, 2012 | Leave a comment

Alrighty, ’tis time for me to revisit The Feel Good Tribe’s 95 Questions to Help You Find Meaning and Happiness and get on with another section of the list.  

It was an interesting exercise for me.  Again, I don’t know what benefit there may be for anyone else, but if anything helps someone else, than that pleases me.

Here we go…

What is one thing right now that you are totally sure of?  Who I am.

What’s been bothering you lately?  The current limbo that is my career/life path….and…my left knee; the state of my lungs; the number of gray hairs on my head; that one ascending switchback at Greensfelder; and the guilt I feel over the Tooth Fairy.

What are you scared of?  Disappointing my daughter.

What has fear of failure stopped you from doing?  Nothing; I fail all the time with flair and humor.  I am fantastic at failing.  More people should give it a whirl.

(I know there are people thinking “crits” on this one, and maybe that is true, but maybe I really just don’t like them and maybe that has more to do with the fact that crits take a lot of dedication and training to which I am just not willing to commit.  There are things more dangerous than crits and I do those, so I still believe that I truly just do not like them.  They even stress me out even when I am not racing them…which is why I always hate the bell lap and finishing sprint.  The sound of flesh and carbon on pavement gives me the sads…even though I have myself only had road rash one time and it wasn’t so bad and was also not in a crit.  If you are my friend and tell me you are about to race a crit, watch my face/body language…I turn a shade of green/gray that is really rather adorable.  Jesus likes crits because more people pray during them.  Yes, I pray to the hippie and his dad when my friends race crits.  It has been wildly marketed that JC and his dad hang out at sporting events, so since The Universe is busy with other things, I toss these freebie pleas at the “big guy” in the hopes that he likes my friends enough to keep them safe since God and not skill keep you upright, yes?  You’re welcome.  ”Know God; Know skin. No God; No Skin.” is what I always (never) say.)

[shakes head]

What will you never give up on?  Myself, my children, and imagining where I will spend the winnings from the lottery tickets that I don’t purchase.  I will never give up on carbs, happiness, laughing, making inappropriate jokes, pushing the envelope, challenging authority, or practicing podium stands when I get out of the shower.

What do you want to remember forever?  

The smell of my children’s skin when they were babies;

The sound of their first giggles;

The moment I first looked at them;

The first time I looked at Ty, when he was born, and knew I could feel unconditional love;

The feeling that I had 20 minutes into the first cx race I ever won…and the feeling I had 5 seconds after crossing the line;

The feeling that I had the first time my mom told me she was proud of me;

The time my ex-husband wrote me a note and told me how proud he was of me as a mom;

The moment on August 12,1999 when I knew I was an adult and could handle anything;

My first chemo treatment;

My last chemo treatment;

The look in my grandpa’s eyes the first time I disappointed him;

The look in my grandpa’s eyes as he made his peace with this world;

My grandma’s soft whisper the last time she was awake;

The sound of my grandpa’s whistled tune as he glided through the door;

The first time I saw my grandpa cry;

Eating peanuts on days I went to work with him;

My great-grandma scratching my back and playing with my hair when I was little;

The day I taught myself how to push off the curb without training wheels;

The first time I went down a water slide;

The last time I went down a water slide;

The bad I have done in the world;

The good I have done in the world;

That the apple does sometimes get blown very far from the tree…and that that can be full of both positives and negatives.

What makes you feel secure?  Having a strong sense of self does this for me.   

Which activities make you lose track of time?  

Playing with my daughter, especially outside;

Riding my bike;

Laughing with friends;

Good conversations.

What’s the most difficult decision you’ve ever made?

Bringing a pregnancy to fruition;

Stopping treatment;

Walking away from people I love.

What’s the best decision you’ve ever made?

Bringing my pregnancies to fruition;

Stopping treatment;

Walking away from people I love.

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