grab a shovel and start digging
i seriously wanted to high tail it to florida in a diaper by the end of friday. i started out wanting nothing more than my bed, but the week from hell apparently wasnt through with being up my ass just yet. but hey at least we got free breakfast tacos. tacos ease the pain a little. especially when they are thrown at you first thing in the morning.
thursday night i was thinking the week of stabilizing-my-sanity-through-tacos was all worth it - for our big company party. there were moments where i was very disorientated and not just because the cosmos were going straight to my head. but because there were some strange goings-on at the cheese table. i had to check with the people around me to make sure i wasnt in heaven because every time i looked to my left the cheese was freshened. i dont know where it kept coming from or where it went to but i liked feeling like it would never end. my mind was at ease.
true story: one of my coworkers didnt recognize me until he was reminded "cheese girl" then he asked where id been all night and it was pretty funny that i got to say "the cheese table" and mean it.
never felt cooler in my life, basically.
anyway, Grupo Fantasma played our party. im afraid now im going to have to challenge Prince to a serious game of rock-paper-scissors to win weeky possession of this fantastic group. you should have seen everyone getting down with them bad selves.
peter even invited his friend lucy baines johnson to get crunk with us. stephen talked to her but forgot to ask for sandwiches. but thats okay because melissa has a plan. melissas plan is to just put on her swimsuit and goggles and go up to the 12th floor like "What?" because how could they not let her swim on the roof if she came up ready to go?
"failproof" is the word youre looking for.
which is technically two words but this is my blog so i do what i want here.
our open house was also good because holly was there and wanted to hump everything. first it was our large format printer and then it was a KUT employee. hank kept trying to scare Paint Chips with his dirty dancing. but thats just hank "too-far" benzenberg. sometimes he likes to get fat on fridays and other times he loses his butt flies. mostly though, he just sticks to grinding on Paint Chips.
anyway there were tequila shots. then i got a new stalker. then i missed sushi at midnight. then i told the bedtime story "the legend of the donut man" and we went home to let visions of beer bottles dance in our heads.
so thats that and somewhere in between all of it, from the preparation all the way through to the aftermath, i managed to find time to run up and down a hill over and over and over while being yelled at. cadyn refers to this as "torture". i refer to it as "therapy".
one of the techniques of coaching that ive picked up on in this program is this "lying method" theyre using. like its running out of style. like when coach adam says our workouts should be "different" and "fun" what he really means is "grab a shovel and start digging". because thats what you do in hell - you dig. (we figured that out at work the other day.)
anyway saturday early a.m. i had the megaphone to look forward to and "what a treat" it was. no digging though. just a brick workout. run-bike-run-bike-run-noodlelegs-pancakes-collapse-nap.
some people discovered the meaning of the word "tailwind", a concept ive always loved. adam drove alongside me on my bike to commend my cadence, which was awesome, hoo-ya. and to remind me to focus on pulling up with my heel to conserve quad energy for the run. right about then i was thanking god for his third best invention, clips. (first best invention being the stapler, second being the elevator.)
then it was onward home to the pancakes-collapsing-nap-twitching and mumbling heaven portion of the morning. because thats what something within me is screaming between the sheets during those post-torture comatose moments - heaven. even though theres no cheese table in sight.
NAPS. the word just rolls off my tongue now.
i need more hours in the day to squeeze in the daily recommended hours of sleep. and heck a chance to take the trash out would be nice too. Currently i "function" on what feels like daily minutes of sleep. which is why my cats are pawing at the pantry door. but hey at least i havent had abraham lincoln and his pet beaver stage an intervention on me yet.
have you ever been watching that abraham lincoln and beaver sleeping aid commercial and thought "man if i really do have a dream with abraham lincoln and a beaver now its going to be weird on SO many more levels"?
sorry, this is why i use the term "function" lightly.
okay id love to keep yapping but I think i should go sleep instead of staying up to complain about not getting sleep. gotta have enough energy to make it through the "treats" they have planned for us tomorrow.
(aka "hunting bears in the woods with sticks")
which has WHAT to do with triathloning i dunno. im just trusting in coach adams spiel about how everything we're doing serves a purpose.
thursday night i was thinking the week of stabilizing-my-sanity-through-tacos was all worth it - for our big company party. there were moments where i was very disorientated and not just because the cosmos were going straight to my head. but because there were some strange goings-on at the cheese table. i had to check with the people around me to make sure i wasnt in heaven because every time i looked to my left the cheese was freshened. i dont know where it kept coming from or where it went to but i liked feeling like it would never end. my mind was at ease.
true story: one of my coworkers didnt recognize me until he was reminded "cheese girl" then he asked where id been all night and it was pretty funny that i got to say "the cheese table" and mean it.
never felt cooler in my life, basically.
anyway, Grupo Fantasma played our party. im afraid now im going to have to challenge Prince to a serious game of rock-paper-scissors to win weeky possession of this fantastic group. you should have seen everyone getting down with them bad selves.
peter even invited his friend lucy baines johnson to get crunk with us. stephen talked to her but forgot to ask for sandwiches. but thats okay because melissa has a plan. melissas plan is to just put on her swimsuit and goggles and go up to the 12th floor like "What?" because how could they not let her swim on the roof if she came up ready to go?
"failproof" is the word youre looking for.
which is technically two words but this is my blog so i do what i want here.
our open house was also good because holly was there and wanted to hump everything. first it was our large format printer and then it was a KUT employee. hank kept trying to scare Paint Chips with his dirty dancing. but thats just hank "too-far" benzenberg. sometimes he likes to get fat on fridays and other times he loses his butt flies. mostly though, he just sticks to grinding on Paint Chips.
anyway there were tequila shots. then i got a new stalker. then i missed sushi at midnight. then i told the bedtime story "the legend of the donut man" and we went home to let visions of beer bottles dance in our heads.
so thats that and somewhere in between all of it, from the preparation all the way through to the aftermath, i managed to find time to run up and down a hill over and over and over while being yelled at. cadyn refers to this as "torture". i refer to it as "therapy".
one of the techniques of coaching that ive picked up on in this program is this "lying method" theyre using. like its running out of style. like when coach adam says our workouts should be "different" and "fun" what he really means is "grab a shovel and start digging". because thats what you do in hell - you dig. (we figured that out at work the other day.)
anyway saturday early a.m. i had the megaphone to look forward to and "what a treat" it was. no digging though. just a brick workout. run-bike-run-bike-run-noodlelegs-pancakes-collapse-nap.
some people discovered the meaning of the word "tailwind", a concept ive always loved. adam drove alongside me on my bike to commend my cadence, which was awesome, hoo-ya. and to remind me to focus on pulling up with my heel to conserve quad energy for the run. right about then i was thanking god for his third best invention, clips. (first best invention being the stapler, second being the elevator.)
then it was onward home to the pancakes-collapsing-nap-twitching and mumbling heaven portion of the morning. because thats what something within me is screaming between the sheets during those post-torture comatose moments - heaven. even though theres no cheese table in sight.
NAPS. the word just rolls off my tongue now.
i need more hours in the day to squeeze in the daily recommended hours of sleep. and heck a chance to take the trash out would be nice too. Currently i "function" on what feels like daily minutes of sleep. which is why my cats are pawing at the pantry door. but hey at least i havent had abraham lincoln and his pet beaver stage an intervention on me yet.
have you ever been watching that abraham lincoln and beaver sleeping aid commercial and thought "man if i really do have a dream with abraham lincoln and a beaver now its going to be weird on SO many more levels"?
sorry, this is why i use the term "function" lightly.
okay id love to keep yapping but I think i should go sleep instead of staying up to complain about not getting sleep. gotta have enough energy to make it through the "treats" they have planned for us tomorrow.
(aka "hunting bears in the woods with sticks")
which has WHAT to do with triathloning i dunno. im just trusting in coach adams spiel about how everything we're doing serves a purpose.