Happy birthday to me! Yup, after roughly 364 days of anticipation, I turned 28 today and celebrated as only I do. Mainly, by being incredibly, monumentally and epically stupid.
How? Well, er, I kind of signed up for a triathlon today. Yeah. My 200+ pound self thought it was a good idea to huff-and-puff my way through a half-mile swim, 12 mile bike ride, and 3.2 mile run. On, wait for it, July 12.
If any of you are all athletic (or can read a calendar), you know that July 12 is really, really freaking soon. Which means I should have started training, oh, I don't know ... two months ago. Ooops.
I spent a decade growing up as a competitive swimmer (ah, back in the skinny-and-in-shape days of yore) and can pound out a 12 mile bike ride no problem right now. So I'm not worried _ too much, anyway _ about those legs. It's the run that has me absolutely, positively scared shitless. See... I don't run. Like, ever. Not even if I'm being chased. I'm fairly sure if someone tried to attack me on the street and my options were to run away or sit down and take a breather, I'd park my butt on a bench and be all, "excuse me, can I help you with something??"
You think I exaggerate, but it's true. In high school, at the pinnacle of my in-shape-and-athletic-days, I thought it'd be better to be the goalie on the field hockey team than to have to spend hours of practice every day running up, down and around the field. I was perfectly content to strap on 20 pounds of sweaty, heavy gear and let girls in kilts hurl hard balls at me than to have to spend 90 minutes a day running and doing sprints and drills.
So as part two of my present to myself, I bought myself these cool-ass kicks.
Now, before you go roll your eyes at the fact that I bought pink and white sneakers ("How obvious, Noodles...") you should know I went to a real, honest-to-goodness running store and got fitted by a very nice runner type who determined these were best for my weird feet.
And after my friend Tina convinced me that it would be a good idea to do this, I also put in an order for a tri-suit. Which, by the way, are possibly the most hideous things on the planet, aside from those crazy "modesty swimsuits" the Duggars wear on TV.
Please note, this model looks significantly better in this get-up than I ever will.
And finally, because I am a huge nerd who believes in research, research, research, I'm FINALLY reading the book I picked up a few years ago when I first got this crazy idea in my head.
It's actually great. Jayne is funny and snarky and I feel certain we would get along splendidly while shopping for god knows what together before getting martinis.
So, yes. That was my birthday. Well, there was that, and the fabulous and lovely gifts, calls, messages, cards, voicemails, text messages and other loveliness that my friends and family showered on me. Even the mutt got in on the act, but letting me sleep in until 8 a.m. All in all, pretty splendid.
So, let's just hope that this triathlon doesn't kill me so I can survive another 364 days to bask in birthday love next year.