Tagged: Twenty-Five Random Things About Me

Rules: Once you've been tagged, you are supposed to write a note with 25 random things, facts, habits, or goals about you. At the end, choose 25 people to be tagged. You have to tag the person who tagged you. If I tagged you, it's because I want to know more about you.

1. I generally like being tagged. It gives me a topic on which to write, even if it's random.
2. I've been playing with Fit Day, the online food diary, and it's starting to become addictive.
   
3. I'm wondering what the heck I need to eat to get enough potassium. Sersly? How many bananas? Do I look like a chimp to you? Don't answer that.
   
4. I find it amusing that Fit Day includes "sexual activity" among the things you can do to burn calories, above and beyond your general lifestyle activities.
5. I'm convinced that men who would chart this as an excuse to eat wildly exaggerate the frequency, vigor, and especially the D-U-R-A-T-I-O-N of their "activities." And they probably drive Corvettes or Hummers.
   
6. I am generally quiet and withdrawn in real life, especially with people I do not know well. I'm shy, and would be much more comfortable addressing a joint session of Congress on 15 minutes' notice than suffering through a cocktail party with 15 strangers. This has caused people who meet me for the first time to think I'm aloof and arrogant.
7. This impression also struck Mrs. Greyhound the first time we met. She thought I hated her. We were married two years later, some 20 years ago. The fact that a 5'8" blond flute hottie married me demonstrates that, at least for one brief shining moment, I had game.
   
8. I showed so little emotion as a child, my classmates--my friends--called me "Mr. Spock."
9. I used to be a professional French Horn player in a symphony orchestra.
   
10. I started taking horn lessons at age 10.
11. If you had to ride a school bus with a French Horn, you'd be shy and keep to yourself too.
12. I have played my horn on the stages of Symphony Hall in Chicago, The Academy of Music in Philadelphia, Carnegie Hall in New York, as well as in Norway, Sweden and Denmark.
    
13. The jocks on the bus have not.
14. I'm a recovering band geek. Yeah, I know it's hard to tell.
15. My daughter, although she plays the flute, does not want to participate in marching band when she gets to High School. She's high fashion, and can't abide the thought of wearing a feather on her head.
16. I'm a good test taker. Really good. No, sersly. Really, really good. I always considered it a contest--not with my class mates--but with the professor. I wanted to freak them out by finishing an hour early and getting a score that they'd have to disregard in computing the curve. The year after taking the board certification exam, they asked me to help write and grade it.
    
17. Other nicknames that have followed me through life, including into my law firm, are "The Brain," and "The Professor." Can't imagine why.
    
18. After feeling like I might die during my first half marathon, I thought I'd never NEVER be able to finish a marathon.
19. I've now done seven marathons. Still not screaming fast, the first being about 5:05 and the fastest being 3:49:21. Two of those came after the wee little 2.4 mile swim and 112 mile bike warm up. Slow or not, I am an Ironman.
    
20. The jocks on the bus are not. (Yeah, we had issues.)
    
21. Pre-triathlon and when I was in school, part of the reason I did not participate in sports was mortal fear of the locker room and all that nekkidness. Post-Ironman I have gone to a nude beach.
22. It was fun. No, it was AWESOME.
    
23. No pictures were taken. None.
    
24. I have never done a race that I was completely satisfied with. As much as it hurts at the time, I always wind up feeling like a bit of a wuss and question whether I truly pushed myself.
25. Even though I respect and enjoy the tag, I know some people don't like being the taggee, so I seldom tag back. If you like being tagged, you're it.
    

Power Control

The hearts of Men are easily corrupted. And the Ring of Power has a will of its own.

But something happened then the Ring did not intend . . . It was picked up by the most unlikely creature imaginable . . . A Hobbit . . . Bilbo Baggins of the Shire.

For the time will soon come when Hobbits will shape the fortunes of all.

I Even Overtrained My Dog

This is Gumbo, the Wonder Dog. In the absence of a training schedule for me, I've been trying to teach Gumbo and her litter mate Cocoa how to walk with good doggy manners. Every night, when it gets cool enough to avoid CERTAIN DEATH, I put on my shoes, a visor, grab the leashes, and brave 15 minutes of absolutely spasmodic, brainless behavior as the dogs get hooked up and start the walk. The last 15 or so minutes of the walk, they're pretty good, and the initial "break in" period has been getting shorter and shorter. Good, right?

Well, Monday, after the walk, the dogs and I did our customary "chill," reading and just laying around. (I read. They do not. Yet.) Then it was time for bed. But when Gumbo, the Wonder Dog, got up and walked to the kennel, she had a limp that had not been there during the walk. Tuesday and Wednesday it got worse, so I took her to the vet. She has an itty bitty fracture in one of the toes on her right paw.

I know what Taconite Boy is thinking, so I'll just say it. I think I overtrained my dog.

Either that, or I stepped on her paw and don't remember it or she just dinged herself running like a spaz all around the yard or up and down the stairs.

Anyway, I found it kind of funny that Gumbo, who has no health insurance, got better treatment at her vet than Andra Su got from the ostensible "sports medicine" orthopedist who was seeing to the stress fracture in her foot. Gumbo's doctor took Gumbo in her lap, loved all over her, gave her a complete physical exam, checked her spine, looked carefully at her foot, performed two x-rays, prescribed some medicine, and gave her a doggy treat at the end.

I don't know, Andra Su. Instead of shaking hands, maybe you should crawl into his lap next time, roll over on your back in a submissive position, and beg for a treat. It always works for Gumbo.

Because We Can

Signs of the Apocalypse

Yes, I know. This is a triathlon blog or a writing blog or something. But I have been known to also express my appreciation of the female form. Think of me as a renaissance painter, only using digital words and lacking any artistic merit.

Anyhow, work and training have gotten in the way of regular posting, but today, I had to drop a note about signs of the upcoming apocalypse. Ursula Anders, the original "Bond Girl" from "Dr. No" is having her birthday today.

She is Seventy Freaking Two Years Old! A Bond Girl in her 70s! That would make me . . . .

**checking the math***

Never mind. I need to lie down.

Happy Birthday

The man is 68 years old today--the same age as my dad, which I find disturbing in the extreme. But, unlike my dad:

1. If you have five dollars and Chuck Norris has five dollars, Chuck Norris has more money than you.
2. There is no 'ctrl' button on Chuck Norris's computer. Chuck Norris is always in control.
3. Apple pays Chuck Norris 99 cents every time he listens to a song.
4. Chuck Norris CAN eat just one Lay's potato chip.
5. Chuck Norris CAN sneeze with his eyes open.
6. Chuck Norris is suing MySpace for taking the name of what he calls everything around you.
7. Chuck Norris destroyed the periodic table, because he only recognizes the element of surprise.
8. Chuck Norris can kill two stones with one bird.
9. When the Boogeyman goes to sleep every night, he checks his closet for Chuck Norris.
10. Chuck Norris doesn't read books. He stares them down until he gets the information he wants.
11. There is no theory of evolution. Just a list of creatures Chuck Norris has allowed to live.
12. Outer space exists because it's afraid to be on the same planet with Chuck Norris.
13. Chuck Norris does not sleep. He waits.
14. Chuck Norris is currently suing NBC, claiming Law and Order are trademarked names for his left and right legs.
15. Chuck Norris is the reason why Waldo is hiding.
16. Chuck Norris counted to infinity - twice.
17. There is no chin behind Chuck Norris’ beard. There is only another fist.
18. When Chuck Norris does a pushup, he isn’t lifting himself up, he’s pushing the Earth down.
19. Chuck Norris is so fast, he can run around the world and punch himself in the back of the head.
20. Chuck Norris’ hand is the only hand that can beat a Royal Flush.
21. Chuck Norris can lead a horse to water AND make it drink.
22. Chuck Norris doesn’t wear a watch, HE decides what time it is.
23. Chuck Norris can slam a revolving door.
24. Chuck Norris does not get frostbite. Chuck Norris bites frost
25. Remember the Soviet Union? They decided to quit after watching a DeltaForce marathon on Satellite TV.
26. Contrary to popular belief, America is not a democracy, it is a Chucktatorship.

**credit given to Chuck Norris Facts

Irony Ironies

As I begin my third season in the multisport life, there are a number of odd and sometimes ironic I've noticed. Maybe you've noticed some of these too.

1. Can't stay awake in the daytime? Can't stay asleep when you're in bed? You might be a triathlete and you're probably a bit overtrained.

2. Locker rooms? Full of ironies. Men? Not exactly designed for aesthetic appeal. Women? Aesthetic masterpieces. And yet the girly locker room has (I am told) a separate dressing room for each shower, while the men's locker room is full of random, undesired, communal nakedness.

3. More on locker rooms? Plush locker rooms with puffy white towels. And yet the former athletes can't manage to put one around the waist and privatize the junk. Why do I say former athletes? Another irony. The inverse relationship between aesthetic merit and clothing.

Translation: the higher the BMI and the more body hair on a person, the more likely it is they will be buck naked. (This rule apparently holds true in locker rooms, on beaches, wild parties . . . .)

4. I have more gym bags than days of the week, my own locker, and the best locker room in town. So why is my car turning into a locker room complete with dirty socks, discarded clothing, bike helmet, shoes, bike, swim gear . . . and yet I'm a neat freak in the gym locker room.

5. Cars? More oddities. Are you unable to carry a small child in your car? They're not allowed to sit in the front seat because of the airbag. They can't sit in the back because the seats are folded down to transport your bike.

6. And Irony. Why is it that the more fit you are, the more crippled you feel getting up out of a car after a long drive? Do you look forward to a six hour bike and dread a six hour drive? You swim bike and run for 13 or 14 hours and yet would rather have your teeth drilled than be in the car for that long?

If your life is this odd or ironic, you're probably a triathlete.

You like me!! You really like me!!!

I've been such a bad blogger in the last week, failing to post and leaving everyone hanging with the guessing game below. So, imagine my surprise when I received an e-mail that I had been selected as one of the top 10 blogs in Team Race Athlete.

Oh my gawd. You like me. You really like me!

Writers write, and I would probably do this whether or not anyone read it. But, you know for a fact that I'm a comment whore, and it really makes my day when someone lets me know that something I wrote was funny or inspirational or meaningful or enjoyable in some way.

It is even more of a treat to be included in the top 10 among bloggers that I love to read. Go and look at the list, subscribe to their blogs, and you won't be disappointed. And while you're there, VOTE FOR ME . . . well, actually vote for your three favorites. For real. Just being included in the number is a kick. So vote however you want.

Now, to reveal the answer to the contest. NOBODY won. Nobody got it exactly right, which is picking out the random fact that is false and the reason that it is false. Liz came the closest.

The false answer is number 6, but not for the reasons any of you assigned to it. Although it might shock some of you, I did have a date to the prom in both my junior and senior years. I don't remember their names (boo me) but they were not both taller than me. One was about my height or a little shorter and (ironically) the other played basketball on the vasity girls team, but was a guard and was way shorter than me (and cute as a bug's ear).

That is all. Hopefully I'll have some training related stuff tomorrow.

Speedo Pictures

OK, let it never be said that this blog isn't all about you, the reader. Also let it never be said that I'm not a sucker for female persuasion. By popular demand, I give you a red Speedo picture. Be forewarned: I'm not my usual 9% body fat self. It is the off season after all.

So, click here and enjoy, ladies.

I Am Mark Verstegen's B*tch

So, you're an Ironman, huh?

Well, apparently not so much. At least not all of you. That was like 2 weeks ago. Today, I feel like I've kicked my own ass.

Now, I swear on a stack of bibles that I haven't recommenced triathlon training like the Type A moron that I can be. I am REALLY taking an authentic offseason. I have, however, begun some prep and strength work "for fun."

Yeah, fun. Then why does my ass hurt so much?

Late in the day at Ironman Wisconsin, it was an effort to keep my posture and form, and I really felt the fatigue in the core muscles on the run. So, in the off season, I resolved to rock up my core by working through the "Core Performance" routines. Well, rocks must be at some point in the future, because right now it's more like wobbly, painful jello, especially on some of those one legged thingies. OY! And all the lunging! Meshugas!

After a good strength and physioball session on Monday, I got out of bed on Tuesday morning to go burn up some hills with Coach T, and it was total Booty Lock. Apparently, my ass is part of my core, because the gluteals were definitely en fuego. Who knew? I may or may not get any faster doing this, but by next summer, I'll have the best 41-year-old booty on the planet.

Sorry, ladies. There will be no "before" and "after" pics . . . .

. . . . unless you flatter me . . . of course.

Oh, and watch this space. Very soon, possibly this weekend, there will be a HUGE announcement from team Greyhound. But you'll have to wait for that.

I AM NOT A NUMBER!!

Ok, so maybe I am a number. Ironman Wisconsin numbers are up, and I'm number 1257, Greyhound, from Spring, Texas.

But notwithstanding the number, I've spen the last 24 hours wondering whether I'm a hardass or a wuss. I took Carmen to the LBS for Tri Bike Transport, but had trouble getting the pedals to loosen and come off. So, the girl at the bike shop took them off for me.

a.girl.

She had a tatoo, and undoubtedly was a rockin' biker chick, but she was still a girl.

Then, I had to change a flat this morning. (Long story). I couldn't get the lug nuts to loosen, and I wasn't about to rupture myself or shred my back changing a tire about 8 days from Ironman. So I asked for help.

The big beefy building guys also couldn't move the lug nuts with my tire tool. They had to get this huge tool to get them loosened. My tool was inadequate.

I guess size does matter. :(

But after they were loosened, the three enginees stood around and watched me change the tire. Something tells me if I had boobs, hips, and wore a skirt, I would not have been changing my own tire. One guy would have changed the tire while the others stood around oggling.

But apparently my a$$ is hard. Mistress Arlene, massage therapist to the stars, had to make a housecall last night, and she found it necessary to spend a lot . . . I mean A.LOT. of time on two very ripped masses of muscle.

Owie.

The draping became somewhat of an afterthought. I think Arlene is now almost as familiar with my untanned landscape as Mrs. Greyhound.

Almost. But not quite.

So I've got that going for me, which is good.