Cool things

I just bought a really cool pair of bike shoes for the bike I am borrowing from Mrs. Bickerson for my Triathlon. These shoes, not only look good (I would almost say sexy in their sleekness of design), but were a good deal. And, being as cheep as I am makes them kick ass even more.

Yesterday, I put on my new bike shoes for the virgin bike tour of my newly borrowed bike. I looked good! I felt cool! I road fast! I looked like I knew what I was doing! I was so cool riding this really cool bike, really fast.

As I finished up my morning ride, I was reveling in my new-found coolness. I slowed down, pulled into the driveway and immediately fell over onto the asphalt because I was unable to get my new cool bike shoes out of their clips.

Soooooooo, not cool.

Word Problem

If a 130 pound woman was running west, at the pace of a 9 minute mile, and was pushing two children in a jogging stroller, totaling 72 pounds, and the wind was gusting at 35 miles an hour, head-on from the east, for half of the 5 mile run. How many extra calories would the runner burn-up during that run than if she wasn’t pushing the stroller and the wind weren’t blowing?

Blame it on Rio

I was cutting my toe cuticles in the gym bathroom this morning and felt really weird about it. I started thinking, should I really be clipping in the gym bathroom? Is that gross? I am pretty sure I wouldn’t like to watch someone else clipping their toes there. So, I tried to find an out-of-the-way place to get the job done. I didn’t want anyone thinking I was just clipping and leaving them lay on the floor for bare-footed, freshly showered folks to walk upon.

I found a nice little bench to sit on, in a little room that contained a scale and a few hooks. Shortly afterward, another woman came waltzing in, dropped her towel, stepped on the scale and there I was, standing face-to-face with her very stylish coochy snort.

Firstly, I felt very uncomfortable about being so close to a woman’s you know what. I started to sweat and could barely get out the “excuse me” as I ducked my head to get up and leave.

Secondly, I felt like I was in a really bad porn film, I could almost hear the music in the background, bum bumbumm boww wwwwoooowwww.

Thirdly, I knew I had to write about this and was going to title the post, “Can you feel the Brazilian heat?” However, I decided I better check to see if I was calling “it” the right thing. Well, I wasn’t. This woman did not have a Brazilian. Having a Brazilian, means you have taken it ALL off. She had something else, which I think may be called a Landing Strip or the Gucci Coochy or something like that. I’m not actually sure, it all got a bit foggy there at the end. However, what I do know for sure is that I don’t want to know how my fellow 5:00am gym-goers express themselves through their pubic hair.

I won’t be clipping there again!

Churning milk into butter

It is all coming back to me now…why I don’t run while I am breastfeeding. It isn’t that I have this enormous rack to be envious of or that I can’t find a sports bra that fits them. I have several athletic type bras that fit just fine and should be more than adequate. But when there is milk stored up in those bad boys, they turn into different creatures. They change from the old energetic little boobies I had before the birth of the thirdling, to actual breasts that have taken on a life of their own. Their weight is different. Their shape is different. They are denser. They are hotter (yeah they’re STILL hot, but I mean literally). They bounce higher and come down much much harder. They even slosh. I can’t imagine what that milk tastes like after a good hard run. Mmm mmm good!

Bags

I have discovered that after each one of my children

Bags

I have discovered that after each one of my children

Bags

I have discovered that after each one of my children

Bags

I have discovered that after each one of my children

Bags

I have discovered that after each one of my children

Bags

I have discovered that after each one of my children