Tuesday, July 29, 2008

My Triathlon Bitches

I’m 43 years old and I hate cardio exercise. I have bad feet and have to wear hippy shoes like my mom. If you were to ask me one month ago if I’d like to do a triathlon, I would say “You are being ridiculous. Go away.”

Then my friend G sent pictures of her recent/first triathlon. Everyone looked so Athletic and happy. My favorite picture was of G crossing the finish line. She looked totally spent. One of her eyes is pointed toward her nose, her head is tilted back, and she’s looking straight at the camera with a pissed off look. I can clearly read her lips making the “sh” sound. One would only assume she was about so say “Shit!”

She sent these pictures along with an invitation to do a triathlon with her and the others in September. I have to admit, its not exactly the Thrill of Defeat that is attractive. Nor is it the hope of getting in better shape. No, nothing that predictable would ever make me run 3 miles, bike 11 miles and swim 400 yards. What’s propelling me is G’s picture at the finish line.

It’s the picture that says “Hey bitch, I did it so why the hell can’t you?” Here’s something you must know about my friend G. She’s freakishly strong. I know this because our little gang of 40-something ladies have had arm wrestling contests at our dinner parties. I’m not talking about a friendly little bit of fun either. I’m talking about teeth grinding, shoulder splitting, panty peeing arm wrestling, and she kicked everyone’s ass every time. What makes it more painful is that I was so God damned sure of myself and I think I even said something like “I’m always the strongest of all my girlfriends.” And then she kicked my ass … like I was a little girl.

So I’ve accepted the triathlon challenge and I’ll be on a team with G and some other women of varying background: school teacher, college student, nurse (thank God), investment manager, and whatever else we get to sign-up. G and I have been thinking about names for our team and I’ve suggested a bunch that will end up in the trash, because they’re trashy names I guess.

The Tammy Faye’s -- we would all wear a bunch of eye make-up and let it run down our faces.

Tri-Twats – “Rode Hard and Put Away Wet”

North Bay BFDs – We’d lie to the judges and tell them it meant Beautiful Friendly Divas instead of Big Fucking Deal, which of course is what we really are.

I’ve been running, swimming, and biking everyday since I accepted the challenge and I have to admit that when I want to give up, I just think about my two goals:

1. To finish
2. To beat G

I know we’re on the same team and I want her to win, too. But there’s something about getting my ass kicked that makes me work that much harder. And that, my dears, is how my life has always worked.

Oh yes, I’ve had my ass kicked both metaphorically and physically and I just get more determined to try harder next time. So, its “boot strap” time again. Thank you G, you’re my reason! You and that picture that says “Bitch, get off your ass and try and tri!”

1 comment:

  1. Thank you, thank you, thank you for letting me live in infamy on your blog-spot, Queenie!
    Let's not forget to mention that I WILL kick your ass in that triathlon if I have to die doing it (which I probably will). You can't just throw that gauntlet down and think that I won't pick it up. Even as I write i am injecting myself with a new version of horse steroids to assure my success!
    Love you,
    G (the worlds strongest woman - well, maybe not, but I AM stronger that Sharon!)

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