This blog is now retired. My new site is at: Predictably Irrational.

Thursday, March 24, 2011


My conversation with Tim, my construction-workaholic-adventure-racing-triathlete husband, last night:

Me: I did my biathlon training class today.
Tim: Cool. How was it?
Me: It seemed pretty do-able. Then I got off the bike to run and when I came back to the bike, it felt like the tension was tightened.
Tim: That’s good.
Me: Then at the second run, Army Amy had me SPRINT to the finish. I mean, I was peered pressured into it. We were only supposed to run easy one way, then run faster the other way. She urged me to sprint beyond what I am capable of. I thought I was going to die.
Tim: Good for her! Shake it off! Don’t be a wimp.
Me: Um…it’s not supposed to be a SPRINT! And she made me do this TWICE. I couldn’t finish to the end the second time. And then she was like “DON’T STOP RUNNING WHEN YOU SLOW DOWN!
Tim: Damn skippy.
Me: And you know how Army Amy is…she was like, running backwards with me: “if it makes you feel any better, that’s as fast as I could go.” Well you know that’s bullshit because she was talking to me the entire time we were sprinting…Anyway, she was like “seriously, that’s all I could do…and if I went any faster? I would have puked.” Puked? Oh my god. I felt like I was going to puke once she said puke.
Tim: uh-huh
Me: I mean, I was shaking! And I felt dizzy! I thought I was going to throw up.
Tim: That’s good. That means you were working hard.
Me: And I got a headache from it.

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