The Kindness of Strangers

I swam this morning in the pool with Duane at the 24 hour pool.  We did a warm up, followed by five 200's with negative splits, followed by five 150's with negative splits, followed by five 50's with negative splits, but that isn't what I am writing about.  I am writing about the lady in lane one that was seemingly overcome with rage when we entered her space and moved her cheese.  See, here's the deal; we all pay the same 25 bucks a month or whatever it is to the 24 hour adult day care corporate money laundering scheme.  For that overpriced purchase, I get the privilege of using the facilities, just like everybody else.  Some of the machines at 24 hour are single use machines, like the stairmaster.  If the psycho neurotic pussycat in lane one was on the stairmaster, I wouldn't have asked to share it.  Or, if there were already six people swimming in lane one, I wouldn't have asked to share it.  But since she was alone and the other lanes were busy too, we jumped in with her and politely asked her if we could share the lane.  She snarled like a panther about to garrote an antelope on the African Savanna.  I think she said something like "I do NOT want to share this lane" or whatever it was, I wasn't listening closely since I was staring at the fire coming out her left nostril.  Honestly, she sort of scared me so I said "Thank You" and followed Duane, who had already grabbed a chunk of the pool in her majesty's lane.  She moved to another lane as we weren't 'her kind of people'.

When I was growing up, I had a dog that bit my cousin. That dog was a great dog, and I loved her dearly.   She was a protector, a companion, a best friend.  One day, the dog bit my cousin.  Five stitches later, my cousin was fine. So my Mom had my Dad shoot the dog in the head with a 7mm semi-automatic Browning.  My Mom told me when I came home from school that the dog had to go live on a farm.  I was ten.  I didn't figure it out for like six or eight years that the dog may have gone on to live on a farm, but the farm was only a farm in the spiritual sense.  Anyway, that dog was a great dog and I loved her, but she had that one small bad habit.  The lady in the pool this morning had no redeeming value.  It begs the question:  What would my Mom have told my Dad to do?

So an hour and a half later, we go to Starbucks for some overpriced hot water in a cup and who should be there?  The Wicked Witch of the West.  Go figure.  She was ahead of us in line.  I wanted to ask if it was ok if I went in front of her in line, just to see if the right nostril could spew fire like the left one, but I was afraid she had a gun.  Some days are like that.

I just got back from a week in Phoenix.  I was working so its not a big deal, since I was inside all day, every day but it snowed while I was there.  In Phoenix.  Snow.

A big "congrats" to Nurse Joanie.

Venture Capital

I met a guy who has something to do with venture capital. When I met him, we were in a loud room full of overdressed loud talkers, so I couldn't really understand everything he said, but it doesn't matter much for this story. As far as I know, he is a scam artist or steals little kids milk money, but it really doesn't matter. It is just that I thought of a business idea about 20 minutes ago and I was wondering where I was going to get the 500 grand to get my business off the ground. He is the only venture capitalist I know. Well, I only know his first name so the chances of getting a quick half mil out of him are not great. I can't get fifty cents out of my best friends. Tightwads.

Anyway, I was at the gym working out on the stair climber. I suffered there for twenty minutes, spraying sweat over the girl who was looking in her makeup mirror two rows in front of me on the treadmill, then I went home, then I thought of an idea. Its this; go around the country to every health club in America, hook up a generator to every spin bike, tread mill and stair climber, then wire them all into a big battery in my garage. I can then sell the energy to the power company. So the math is pretty good, if I can get the scam artist guy to front the cost of the generators and the wire.

Anyway, that stair climber is a monster. I do not like it, Sam I Am. I am working out about six hours a week right now. Maybe seven. I need to push that up to nine or ten pretty soon. If I add the stair climber to my routine, I will maybe cut back to three hours.

How much chocolate should I incorporate into my diet?

Join the Training Revolution

I am drinking coffee out of an Ironman branded coffee mug while I type this. I should get up and go run, but the coffee is pretty good and 'Law and Order' is on, so maybe I will just wait a bit and see what happens. Every time I drink out of my Ironman cup, I feel just a little closer to being ready for IM AZ. I am doing a lot of research on this topic, drinking coffee out of the cup, putting my feet up, storing gylocogen for future Ironman event use. I have read all the Ironman training books and I swear, the coffee cup training tip isn't in any of them. I share this with all my readers in the hope that someday, sanity and scientific methods are used in training, instead of fairy tales.  Running sucks and I think it does more damage than good.  The right coffee cup, used judiciously, can get you to Kona.

I look at it like Copernicus looked at the solar system. Every training expert claims that you need to run or swim or whatever to get ready for Ironman. I say no.  The earth is not the center of the solar system!  Running makes your knees hurt!  Am I the only one who sees the truth?  Get yourself a proper Ironman cup and drink your way to fitness. You don't need to run yourself to death to train for Ironman, you just need an Ironman coffee cup. Join the revolution!

I ran thursday morning. I was going to run four miles, but due to events beyond my control, I ended up running about five. I was running and as usual I got hot, so I took my sweatshirt off and left it on a rock by the side of the trail, planning on picking it up on the way back. My four mile training route isn't a loop, it's an out and back thing, so on the way back, I was hurting and I forgot to pick up my sweatshirt.  I ran past it. I was half way home before I remembered my sweatshirt.  I had to go back.  See!  It just proves my point.  If I had gone the coffee cup route, I wouldn't have forgotten the sweatshirt.  It all fits.  Copernicus and I see further, where others are blind.

So later that afternoon, my training buddies decide they want to swim. I didn't want to go because I know what happens when I run before I swim. I cramp. Everybody cramps when they swim after they run. It just happens. But I want to support my training buddies so I go swim. Big mistake. I am 15 minutes into an hour workout and my cramps start. My second toe on my right foot is the canary in the crampy coal mine. When it fires, I know the rest of my leg muscles are going to run straight to cramptown any minute. Sure enough, I lock up like a bank vault below the waist. I can barely get to the end of the 25 yard pool without crying like a school girl. I tried to elicit some sympathy from my training partners, explaining how bad my cramps are, they tell me to suck it up. My hands are under water so I flip them off. My middle finger isn't cramped yet so that is really the only thing I can do. It's a defense mechanism.