Sexy in Her Sneakers

For the last two months, I have been busy dating several men – 48 to be exact.  This may seem above and beyond the call of duty for a single woman with an already hectic schedule, but I’m an overachiever and Costco was having a sale.  We go for swims at Washington & Lee’s Aquatic Center, bike in loops at Hains Point, and run around the DC monuments.  I didn’t meet them on Match, E-Harmony, or Craigslist’s Casual Encounters.  I met them in the DC Triathlon Club’s Newbie Triathlete Program. 

I bought a couple of cute one piece swimsuits to match my latex swim cap and goggles for my pool dates.  My high coverage Speedo brings all of the boys to the yard.  And the tiger print swim cap...grrrrr.  Now, if only Jimmy Choo made flippers, I would be downright bootylicious.

Though even I can have my bitchy moments, doggie-paddling is not the most efficient way to swim in open water.  In addition to my regular dates with the boys, I decided to take private swim lessons to improve my freestyle form.  A lot like my favorite running bra, my coach is very supportive.  In between smiles and claps, she threatens to throw kickboards at me when I start swimming in a vertical position again.  Back and forth is swimming; up and down is drowning.   

Of the new men in my life, Dennis may be my favorite.  He is the handsome store manager at my local bike shop.  He wooed me with a new pair of cycling shoes and pedals.  Yes, pedals with a “d” not a “t.”  (I don't want a Trinket.  Bring a girl a Diamond!)  On my first date with Dennis, I left with the equivalent of a BMW amongst bikes and a couple of thousand dollars poorer.  Now every time I see Dennis, I leave with a new saddle bag or tire repair kit, but only a hundred dollars poorer.  As our relationship grows, our love becomes more economical.  I really hope he’s not in it just for the money.

I am slowly building my cycling endurance from 16 miles to 40 miles in a training session.  My largest frustration is that cars need to learn to share the road with us cyclists.  The parked ones hurt when I’m flying down a hill out of control.  The cars in motion are much better at avoiding me.  I haven’t mastered exiting out of Dennis’ clipless pedals at sudden stops yet.  Flipping off as a human projectile is another example where vertical is bad.

Of the three sports, running is the easiest to me.  We have a history.  Yesterday, I ditched out on my scheduled cycling date with the boys at Hains Point to go back to an old love, a Half Marathon race.  It was worth it!  After six years of running, I finally placed third in an age-group category.  Unfortunately, the race officials are a surly bunch.  They would not let me take a stand on the podium with the eighty-year olds because I am only 35.  What an unfair technicality.  The rulebook didn’t say which age-group I had to belong to.

I expect it to be an 18-month courtship before I get to the man of my dreams.  But, finish an Ironman and brag for the rest of your life.

The National Half Marathon

The groundhog lied!  Here it is the beginning of Spring and I was surrounded by a bunch of runners dressed homeless chic.  Outside the privacy of your own home on laundry day, a race is the only time that it appears to be okay to wear a trash bag, bleach-stained sweatshirts, and tattered sweatpants – all for the sake of staying warm.  But when we cross that start line, clothes go flinging in all directions faster than a stripper can say “Would you like to go to the Champagne Room?”

 

So, how do you get 15,000 people to go into Southeast DC on a Saturday morning?  That’s right – you organize a race.  The National Marathon and Half Marathon start and finish at the DC Armory by RFK Stadium.  To relieve local traffic sooner, the race actually started at 7am.  Unfortunately, our friends at WMATA wouldn't open the Metro's station doors until 6am.  This gave our runners two options:  Drive or Be Late.  Fortunately, getting to the parking lot was not a big deal.  However, I definitely saw some late runners coming off of the Metro.  As if running a race 13.1 or 26.2 miles was not bad enough, these poor guys first had to race to the the start line while the rest of us were running away.  *Ouch*

  

Though I’m a DC-native, starting from this side of town almost felt like being able to run through a completely different city.  I saw parts of DC I typically never saw -  Southeast…H Street…Adams Morgan sober by daylight.  The course was also a bit hillier than I realized DC could be.  Now, I understand why we call it Columbia HEIGHTS. 

Since the course ran through areas of DC that weren’t convenient to the Metro stations, there were not as many spectators to support the runners as I have experienced in other area races.  Either that or everyone else decided it was just too cold to come out to cheer on some crazy runners who think this is the best way to spend a Saturday morning.  Lucky for me, this was my first race as a High Cloud athlete.  While proudly running in my new team gear, I was very energized by the fellow supporters of DC Tri Club and Team Z who cheered me on as I ran by. 

Well, for me and my sick running fetish, it turned out to be a GREAT way to spend a Saturday morning.  The awesome timing of year gave this grizzly bear some motivation to come out of winter hibernation.  I got to run 13.1 miles through my neighborhood city, get some Vitamin D, and shake my fist at the windy, cold winter we had.

 

With another new medal in hand, I say to you – let’s get another race season started.