I Should be A-Shane-d of Myself!

My friend Ceci and I are taking a Triathlon class in prospect park two days a week, to prepare for the NYC Tri on July 22nd. The NYC Tri is an Olympic distance, which means that we have to swim in the Hudson River 1 mile (yuck}, bike 28 miles, and run 6 miles. All of these distances alone are not that daunting, but when you pair them up into one big event, it's a whole different ball game...

I did one other tri in my life, and it was half the distance, and I could not have predicted how much my legs were going to lock up after doing the bike ride...I couldn't for the life of me get my legs to work, and thus crawled the 3.1 miles to the finish line. I looked kinda stupid shimmying across the route on my stomach, but what can you do? ha.

At any rate, we're taking this class, and we have the HUGEST crush on our coach, Shane.

Shane is milk chocolatey delicious, with a body the likes of which I've never seen before. He shows up to class in all sorts of crazy spandex and we all just stare at him with our jaws dropped to the ground, goons that we are.

Inevitably, after every class, Ceci and I spend the walk home discussing Shane, and his hotness.

"Did you see the bulge in his shorts?" I ask.

"Honey, I GAVE him that bulge" she retorted. Yea, we can dream, can't we?

Shane is great incentive to try harder, because who the hell wants to look retarded in front of the hot guy? So we bust our asses in each and every class, and try to look dainty and gorgeous in the process (not doing so well with that, but a girl can try...}

Today, Shane had us doing hill repeats, which basically meant doing an entire loop of the park, and once we got to the top of the big hill at the end, we had to turn around, run down it, and do it again. Three times.

I'm not the best runner on earth, but even someone with a lot of miles under their belt will tell you that hill repeats suck dirty ass. And more.

We started out at a really good pace, and as we approached the mile markers, I realized I was flying. One of the girls was calling out times, and it seemed we had done a sub 9 minute mile. Go us!

As someone who had been on a HUGE running hiatus, and had started out the year doing 12 minute miles (and had just quit smoking} and needed to walk in between, doing sub 9's was fucking OUT OF CONTROL for the likes of me. I was pretty impressed with myself!

I finished the first hill, and went on to the second, all the while trying to not look sweaty, red-faced and all around disgusting for Shane, who was waiting at the top of the hill.

By hill repeat three, I wanted to die. Fuck the 9 minute miles. I might just die, right here on this stupid hill, and in front of the hot coach no less, and my picture would be in the NY post as the idiot who died from running too fast. But then I realized that I just wanted to be done...so I booked it. I could see Shane waving me on. "Come on! You can do it!" he yelled.

I was feeling really phlegmy, so I coughed a bit, daintily, like a lady...and then I threw all caution to the wind.

I hocked a loogie right at Shane's feet.

I couldn't HELp it.

Bad timing, but eh, a girl's gotta do what a girl's gotta do.