This weekend marked the beginning of my triathlon season with the Hyannis Sprint Triathlon. And while I should be spending this Sunday night reviewing my weaknesses and putting together a training program to get me through the longer distance races that are coming up, instead, I am reviewing what has clearly been an ongoing attack on me from all sides and all sources.
Point in fact: I am in a new age category this year. Even though my birthday is not until December (long after the tri season has ended) the rules say that I am categorized by the age I will be on December 31st. Hence, new age group. That by itself wouldn't be so bad. But now they categorize me, and worse yet, CALL me....a "master athlete." As in: "Ok, and now its time for the beginning wave for our master athletes". Really! Why do they have to be so mean? There are people in their 70's doing these races (and WOW-- good for them) but do they HAVE to lump me in with these people? It's bad enough when these freaks of nature come zooming by me on their bikes even though they started 18 minutes after I did. But to say I'm essentially in the same age category? I crossed the finish line, jumped in my jeep, and cried all the way home. Master Athlete? Stupid announcer! He's just a big....meanie.
He's probably in cahoots with mother nature. Because she clearly has it in for me, as well. Oh, she knows how much I love hot, sunny weather. But she's punishing me personally for some crime I probably didn't even commit. It's been so cold and rainy and just blah, that I haven't even taken the hard top off of the jeep. So cold and rainy and just blah that the ocean hasn't warmed up. So cold and rainy and just blah that they almost cancelled the swim portion of the race! In the end, they HAD the swim, but it was mandatory wet suit. I HATE swimming in wet suits. Yeah, they make you more buoyant and quite frankly between the extra buoyancy and the 140 other "master athletes" in my wave I could have just floated, not moving arms or legs, and gotten carried along to the end of the swim course. But I'll take less buoyancy over frigid, can't feel your arms or feet until 2 miles into the bike ride water any day. It's a personal attack upon me, I tell you. Stupid weather! Mother Nature is just...mean.
Finally, there is what at first glance is just a nice lunch between friends. A friend of mine came down here to try a restaurant that he saw featured on "Phantom Gourmet" and asked me to join him. Nice, right? But then he HAD to start telling me that he was working out a lot and had dropped some weight. (when I work out a lot, I gain weight) And he told me about a lunch he had last week that consisted of FOUR hamburgers. (If I ate four hamburgers for lunch, not only would I puke, but I'd instantly gain four pounds) And THEN...he told me about his day Saturday: made himself I giant breakfast burrito and then slept all afternoon. (If I had a giant breakfast burrito and slept all afternoon...well, you get the picture) Then it dawned on me: he was in cahoots with that triathlon announcer and mother nature! He didn't invite me to lunch to be nice, he invited me to lunch to be mean! Stupid Phantom Gourmet! I didn't forget his role in all this mean-ness, either!
Now, I'm going to spend the rest of this Sunday evening holed up by myself trying to concoct a mean-ness anti-dote. You never know who I'm going to encounter next week at work.