Blue canary in the outlet by the light switch..

It's crazy how many times I get called crazy in one day. A paddling event had a billion people at the Outrigger Sunday, where we set up transition for the long double-brick. At each of our transitions someone rolled up and asked if we were crazy. No, we're just training for Kona.

Part way through the middle hour-long run of the 6 hour workout it hit me: I'm really Kona training. After months of thinking it wouldn't happen. I'm running, at a good pace, off the bike, and I feel like me. The old me. Katherine was having a tough moment and probably wanted to hit me with a branch because I was grinning ear to ear. Don't worry about her, she later came around and dropped my ass on the second run. She was probably just sick of the babbling.

It occurs to me that the crazy-callers have a point. A lot of bizarre stuff goes through my little brain during a long ride.

I speed up for these things. They're all over Oahu lately. (They don't say anything about Kentucky though.) It's almost as if I think there's a really small, judgmental cop hiding inside. 

I go through a month's worth of emotions. There is dread, anticipation, weariness, the I love my life this is so fun part, then utter depression where I don't want to go on, talking myself through something much too hard for me, another dose of I love my life this is so fun and sometimes some panic. I need a six-hour dose of whatever they're giving Britney these days.

I get really, really annoying songs stuck in my head. They are usually songs I haven't heard since high school. Click play so that I can spread the misery I experienced on today's ride to you. Come on, do it:

I take off my helmet and throw it on the side of the road at least once per long ride. Then I slow down, go back, shake the bee out of it, squish the little bastard that tried to kill me, and put it back on. Somehow they know that I am allergic. I am a bee magnet.

It's all a bit crazy, this Ironman training stuff. We were wondering today as we stood in the ocean when it was all over if maybe we were actually doing brain damage by raising our core temperatures for hours on end. Lord knows I get dumber and dumber as the ride goes on..

Transition:

I've been trying to sell this dumb minivan for months. No one wants to buy the big gas-guzzling eyesore, even though I'm an incredible saleswoman: It sucks, I hate it, please buy it so I don't have to look at it every day. Just call me The Closer. Every once in a while the Violet Beauregarde of the vehicle world serves a purpose worthy of taking it out.  It is the trannyvan. No, it doesn't dress up like a girl.

In other news.. call me if you want to buy an awesome 2006 Nissan Quest.