Try tri again. At least that’s what I’m telling myself. About a year ago (shit, have I really been talking about yarn and pretending to be funny on the internets for a whole year? I guess I missed that. Well, whatever, happy belated birthday, blog. Make a wish for more readers and a million dollars.) I was talking about training for my first triathlon ever. And I might have mentioned that I sucked at swimming. Well, what I failed to mention (mostly because instead of the five readers I have now, I had one and he pretty much knew everything that was going on, so I didn’t have to blog about it) was that I never did the tri. Yup, I was the idiot that got bursitis (tendonitis of the shoulder) 2 weeks before I was supposed to swim, bike, run and somehow not die while accomplishing those things. Also, the trip to
hell India a month before the big event didn’t help with the training either. And I know that’s not a good excuse, but there you have it. So I applied for a medical rollover, went to physical therapy and now that I have gotten over my sad mopey self, I am trying again. There’s a lesson involving horses and saddles.
So I went to the pool last night with my friend, M. She’s going to deny it, but she’s pretty much a bad ass dolphin-human hybrid with amazing hair. (I know that sounds an awful lot like a mermaid, but I assure you that it is not. A mermaid is a fish-human hybrid…completely different) I got into the pool and went for it. I swam to one end without dying. So far, so good. I swam back to the other end. Still no dying. I’m slow as shit and I’m pretty sure that I look like a timid, gimpy fish, but I didn’t die and that’s what I’m focusing on. I was focusing so much on not dying that I didn’t keep track of my laps. I’m estimating that I completed 6 laps based on how many times I stood at the shallow end of the pool contemplating injecting my arms with steroids while simultaneously making out with Michael Phelps in the hopes that it would help bring me closer to my Olympic dreams. I came to the conclusion that I don’t know where I would find steroids, let alone how I would get Michael to make out with me. Finally, I felt as though if I swam one more lap, I would definitely vomit in the pool, which would alert the other dolphin-human hybrids that there is a noob in their midst that is intent on destroying the magic of their sparkly clean pool water. This of course would lead to an all out assault of butterfly strokes to my face. I think I got out of the pool just in time before permanent damage set it. Even still, today most of my body has lost its will to live and is refusing to do what I tell it to do. It’s going to be slow, but it’s progress, right?
While I’m getting back on the triathlon horse, I’m also getting back on another horse (which is really funny if you think about it….kind of like double piggy backs, but with horses. Wait, stop thinking about it, because I just did and it’s kind of gross and sad. Not funny.) with sock knitting. Remember these? Last weekend, I decided that it was time to try knitting them again. I’m doing things a little differently this time, though. First, I’m using metal needles. Fuck bamboo. Those things can’t withstand the extreme force of my ass. Secondly, I’m knitting two at a time…on one circular needle…because I’m crazy. Also, because when I finish my sock, I will have finished my socks. It’s going to be slow, but it’s progress. I know I already said that up there, but I’m saying it again. To reiterate the parallels of knitting and swimming and horses. You know, let’s just forget the horses.