I'll start with an obvious one: MARGARITAS ARE NOT CARBO-LOADING!!!! And damn you Tim for making me think they were. Seriously, if I had just gone home after the first bar, I would have been fine on Saturday morning for Iron Mountain. That said, I had a nifty new adventure trying to clip into a moving road bike with tequila shakes and trucks roaring by on highway 67.I was seriously debating canning the bottom half of the ride until...whoops...I was halfway down the hill into Lakeside. God, I'm an idiot. Of course, by the top of the climb back, all I wanted was another beer, so I had gone full circle. Which brings me to lesson number two.
ALWAYS BRING SHOES TO IRON MOUNTAIN. Even if you can't run because your physical therapist has explained to you that running is, for you, something akin to Eve's Apple, or a new Ferrari behind a showroom window. That is to say pretty and shiny and you want it but you know that if you grab it there will alarms and sirens and suffering, possibly at the hands of uniformed men with nightsticks and aviator sunglasses. But I digress. The reason I learned this lesson is that I was silly enough to volunteer to walk up the hill (rather than run of course, that would have been stupid) in my flip-flops. Yes, you read that right, but I'll repeat it anyway, in my flip-flops. Plantar fasciitis, I spit on you, right up until the moment you cripple me.
Which brings me to the TNT finale party. Hours and hours of silliness in the sun with food and loads of perfectly street-legal "juice." How could you go wrong? Oh, did I mention plantar fasciitis, and walking in the sand for 6 hours? At least I bought those high end flip-flops. And by the way, Allison, the picture is already framed. You'll have to take my word for that of course, but it is. Now to begin counting the days until Lavaman '09 when I'll get to see all these people again...oh, wait, I don't think it'll take that long because now I'm at lesson number 3.
HERE WE GO SPINNING ROUND AND ROUND AND ROUND. Yes, my bizarre quest to play outside that began a couple of years ago with Vavi volleyball and veered (perfectly rationally) into triathlon, has returned to Vavi volleyball. I'll have more to say about that after Wildflower is over and we start playing, but it'll be fun to add another even to the four we all already practice. That's right. Four. Swim. Bike. Run. Drink, er, recover. And now Volleyball. Fifth event. Fantastic.
Jane, get me off this crazy thing. What? Where's my popsicle stick? I have to go around again? Damn it all! (A little Lavaman humor. If you're confused, do the race.)
Hasta luego, kiddies.