So, we’re at the beach.
|This is the beach, yo.|
It’s lovely. My Guy and I are having a combo celebration covering both our anniversary and my birthday. We like to multitask.
I decided that instead of being depressed about turning the big 4-oh, I would be thankful. So many people don’t get this privilege. And, as My Guy and I discussed, we are rich as helllllll. We are happy and healthy and engaged in pursuits that challenge us and bring us joy. We are surrounded by healthy, loving, amazing friends and family. We have the 2 best dogs in the universe. (OK, we have 1 great dog and 1 jerkface dog, but I will fight anyone who says they are less than amazing.)
Life is good.
And so, I decided I wanted to celebrate 40 with feats of strength. I wanted to push myself and prove that I am capable of much more than I realize. My Guy, the jock, was more than willing. And so, my sweet husband created The Lazy Triathlon.
Instead of swim/bike/run, The Lazy Triathlon would include kayaking, riding tourist bikes, and walking on the beach. It all sounded pretty sweet.
First up? Walking on the beach. This is pretty much in my top 5 things to do ever, so easy peasy. One morning, we walked to the end of the beach. 10,000 barefoot steps before 11 a.m.? Don’t mind if I do!
We decided to tackle the kayaking and biking back-to-back. First up? Kayaking. So peaceful and amazing. I cannot stress enough the value of a) an athletic husband; and b) a 2-seater kayak. I sat in the front and paddled away, feeling like a total badass. However, if we’re honest? My Guy did the heavy lifting here. But we floated past mangroves and watched fish and birds and were totally 1 with nature, bitches.
For those keeping track, I wore my water shoes for the kayaking. Best $11.99 Target purchase ever, because even though I’ve worn them exactly twice in 8 years, just owning them makes me feel like I might be an athletic person.
After the kayaking, I felt the need for a snack. Also, it was hot. Damn hot. And my shorts were wet from the kayak. I left my shorts to dry on the dash of the rental car and walked into the snack bar wearing my swimsuit. Again, like a real, live athletic person.
The snack bar did not have snacks so much as it had a fryer. I selected french fries to fuel my biking adventure. They truly seemed like the best choice, as the other options all involved meat in casings. I was being an athlete by choosing fries.
Let’s overlook the fact that most truly athletic ventures do not include the term “snack bar.”
By the time I consumed those bad boy fries, my shorts were dry. I changed into my tennis shoes and realized it was approximately 700 degrees out. No problem – I was wearing a hat, and donning my third footwear choice for this third stage of The Lazy Triathlon.
My Guy and I rented 1-gear bikes. These were bikes that would even make The Golden Girls scoff. But they were our bikes, and off we went.
Full sun. Belly full o’ french fries. Using muscles that last saw action during the Reagan administration. Good times.
Well, good times until I realized that fries are salty and I was dehydrated. And in full sun.
About that time, an older couple passed us on bikes. “I thought we were the only crazy ones,” the man exclaimed. The woman, with teased hair of a color not found in nature, smiled gamely, but I could see it in her eyes. She was not having fun. She was indoorsy.
I briefly considered grabbing the woman and suggesting that we sit in the shade while the menfolk biked around like damned fools. But then I remembered my desire for kicking ass and taking names via feats of strength. We pedaled on.
To his credit, My Guy fully acknowledged how hot and miserable the entire experience was. His conversation ranged from “We can stop anytime” to “Tredge, tredge, tredge” to “I really doubt we’ll actually die out here.” And when I told him to shut up? He just laughed.
We biked and biked and biked. And then realized later that we had biked a little beyond the actual endpoint of the official trail. We were champions!
To be honest, the trail was paved and flat. But this was my second time on a bike in 20 years. And the air was like lava, if lava were, you know, air.
But we did it. We completed The Lazy Triathlon. And I didn’t even die. I thought I was going to throw up, but I avoided that, too. It was a win all around.
|Me, after completing The Lazy Triathlon. I love my husband so much that I cropped him out of this photo because we both look completely insane. Look at those eyes. Those aren’t the eyes of a sane person.|
We’ve joked about getting a “TRI” sticker for the my car, but I think it’s a bad idea. After all, then people will want to talk to me about my tri experience, and then they’ll learn that The Lazy Triathlon was about 2,586% better than their tri, and then they’ll just feel bad. And who needs that?
I guess this is the grace that comes with age.