I DO that

Have you been over to Infosack.com to read Heather's blog yet?  If you haven't, go now.  Her observations about parenting are funny and insightful.

Heather's youngest, Baby Dino (like all toddlers and infants) gets on a new kick every now and then where a particular phrase or group of expressions dominate each interaction with those around her.  Her latest has been stuck in my head for weeks: (sometimes out of nowhere), she will screw her face up into a wacky grin - complete with mischievous dimple - and announce boldly: "I do that!"

What, exactly, does she do?

No one yet knows.

If you ask her that question, the response will likely be: "I do it."  (Note:  the inflection, speed of delivery, and emphasis change every time (I DO that; *I* do that, I do THAT!!, IDOIT, Idothat, etc), but also note that she will never tell you what "that" is.)

Kids aren't for me, but they kick ass.  They really love life just like it is.  They don't have pre-formed notions.  They don't stress, they don't put on airs, and they don't sweat the petty things (although they do sometimes pet the sweaty things.  That's what soap and antibacterial gel are made for.)

So my focus right now is the bike, and next weekend is my first road race.  (Yes, that sound you just heard was me crapping my pants.  I am so not sure I'm ready, but the only way to start is to, well, start.)  This past week, I rode over 130 miles.  One of those rides was with the Seminole Cyclists (they do, in fact, build stronger riders - I'm proof).  When the president figured out that there was no "A" group,  he called for the "B" riders.  If you've known me long enough, you know I am definitely a "B" rider - nothing more. 

Well, unfortunately for MAJ, he didn't call for "B" riders, he called for "B PLUS" riders.

What difference does that little "+" add, you ask?  Several miles per hour.

So here I was, tooling along thinking, man these people are hauling ass; they must be sprinting.  I can't wait until they calm it back down to a "B" pace. 

Instead, they just kept getting faster. 

Between miles 10 and 15, they left me in the dust.  So, I did what I always do when left alone: hit the drops/aerobars and did work.  The other "B" group caught me on the last 3 or 4 miles of the 35+ mile ride. I'm not gonna lie: I had to work hard, and I was pooped around mile 30.  But what got me through the tough part of that ride, alone in the wind, was the sound of Baby Dino's voice in my head saying: I do it. 

Yeah, I did it.

Let's just put it this way: that 10-15 miles with them brought my average speed for the whole 48 miles, including my solo warmup/cooldown ride to and from the ride, up almost 2 miles per hour.

My kilometer swim in the middle of that ride was pretty challenging.  My legs were a little torched.  That which doesn't kill me can only make me stronger, right?

So I told Heather the next day how the ride crushed me, and about how I kept thinking I do that as I rode along alone, and I told her how nervous I am about the Spring Fling this weekend.  (I have a motto for every race, so I've decided that I do it is my official motto this weekend.)  I explained to Heather that road races are not like triathlons or marathons; you don't get a medal just for finishing, people can be tough, the courses can be tough, and EVERYONE sucks at it to begin with.

Her response was just about as awesome as her kid's: you just keep being awesome and those mean bitches can eat your dust.

I laughed, and then I thought to myself, "I do that."