What's In A Name?

Some pretty weird stuff, apparently.

I've got the Ragnar Relay coming up in a few weeks. This is a 24+ hour relay race where your team, consisting of 12 runners split between two vans, runs 202 miles from point A to point B. Each runner covers three legs of the race. Basically, Runner 1 starts things off and van 1 drives ahead to the exchange point where Runner 1 hops in the van and Runner 2 hops out and starts running. The van drives to the next exchange point and picks up Runner 2/drops off Runner 3 and so on. Once Runners 1-6 have covered their legs, Van 2 starts rotating through Runners 7-12, while Van 1 gets to take a break. Once Runner 12 is finished with his/her leg, Van 1 and Runner 1 pick up where Runner 12 left off and it starts all over again. And then one more time for good measure.

My team starts at 8:30 am on a Friday morning and we anticipate finishing up sometime on Saturday afternoon. We run in the mountains. We run through the night. My three legs combined equal about 14.5 miles. It is going to be AWESOME.

So! The other day I was reading through the race info and noticed they had a list of the (over 300) teams that are racing. And my goodness, people were hilariously creative. My favorites:

Team Shake Weight
Bounding Moosen
Cotton Headed Ninny Muggins
Your Mom Goes to College
Off Like A Prom Dress
We Officially Have A Team Name
12 Man Wolf Pack
Victorious Secret
I Just Felt Like Running
What The Hill

Fun!

PS - We had swim practice last night. Outside. It was 34 degrees. Whimper.

I Really Need To Get Back Into Yoga

if only for the calming effect it has on my life.

I said some version of this to myself - out loud - in my empty car - as I drove to my first of three commitments after work today. I could literally feel the crushing weight of everything I have to do in the next four weeks sitting on my sternum. Yoga really would help but there's NO TIME, PEOPLE.

This is my calendar from this week. In addition to these commitments, I have done four loads of laundry, cleaned the kitchen, guest room and master suite, gone grocery shopping, worked on artwork for an upcoming album, counseled a couple of my TNT participants, gathered items for my current fundraiser and slept a little bit. A very little bit.

C'mon, February 15th.

"We Can Rebuild Her. We Have The Technology.

We can make her better than she was. Better...stronger...faster."

Or, you know, pretty much the same.

2011 started off ok in my book - I finally got my bike back! Two months post-accident, some semblance of The Firebolt is back in my possession. She looks a little different thanks to her brand-spanking-new frame and bar tape, but she's essentially the same old gal.

Without the kicky red accents, I feel like the Firebolt moniker just doesn't fit anymore. Hence, I would like to introduce you to The Firebolt, reincarnated: introducing... The Freeze Ray.(I know it's a blurry picture in front of a bunch of crap, but I'm never home during daylight hours and my camera sucks.)

I definitely need to replace that red water bottle cage one of these days. Or maybe I'll keep it for the memories. But for now, hey! I have my bike back!

Is It Just Me, Or...

uh...

Christmas balls FTW.

Fourteen Actors Acting

Acting their asses off.

This is so seriously awesome.

James Franco can come here to me. Even with that mustache, which is saying something.
Matt Damon is angry. And needs a haircut.
Michael Douglas made me so sad. Cancer is horrible.
Vincent Cassel is so spry. He makes it look effortless.

For real, you guys. Go watch it.

And here's a little behind the scenes article.

Sunday Was A Rough Day

A rough day, indeed.

I'm swamped with work and freelance stuff right now, but wanted to quickly share a couple sage bits of wisdom with you, my fine readers. I'll elaborate soon, but for now...

In the grand tradition of discovering how one might become categorized as a redneck, I give you the following identifiers:

1. You actually sunburn your neck while spending time outdoors at the tailgating portion of a professional sporting event.

2. You are cited for trespassing at said sporting event.

And by you I, of course, mean me.

Oh, there's a story there.

*Snort*

You've really got to watch out for the crazy eyes.

from Toothpaste for Dinner