Despite my earlier post, I managed to actually finish the second workout of the day on my trainer which was no small feat, mind you. So while we (and by we I mean me) are talking about training, let's have a discussion about the single most important aspect of this race:
What should my nickname be?
Larry has Bullet, Nathaniel has The Blur. Now I need one. Why? Because it will be my alter ego - by day, I am an unassuming psychologist who works in the child welfare system, but in the wee hours of the morning or deepness of the night, I am this maniacal psycho spinning, running and stroking away towards some other-worldly greatness called Ironman. When I am in training mode, I answer to nothing but this nickname. When you scream for me on the course, it will be this name. And most importantly, it will be immortalized on the Curb Crew tee-shirts for years to come.
So here are some possible suggestions. From Larry, we have "Muscles McGoo." Okay, okay, laugh at the irony, I get it. but your laughs only motivate me more down the long, bumpy miles of Sheridan Road. HA. Right back at you.
So here is my thought: I like Muscles McGoo, because I can see it now: Day breaks on the shores of Tempe Town Lake/Sludge Pond, the sun peeking over the horizon, sprinkling its rays onto the shoulders of 1500+ IM wannabes. Laughs, cries, hugs and prayers fill the morning air, but SUDDENLY, there is a hush over the crowd. The throngs of people part, and there she appears. Who is she? The question reverberates through the onlookers. "That's Muscles McGoo," whispers a little 7-year-old girl, a pair of TYR goggles around her neck, an autographed photo of me in her tiny hands. "Muscles McGoo," the crowd murmurs as word spreads. Muscles (me) enters the water, a resounding applause breaks the trace. Said girl runs to the banks, cheering her little 7-year-old heart out and jumping up and down with my picture - "Go Muscles!" (cue tiny tear drop).
Now here is option two from Joe: TP McGoo. As in Total Package. Seriously. No, really.
I also like Total Package, which may be a dark horse in the running here, since most people who don't know me personally have never seen what I look like or know that much about me personally. And truth be told, I may not be much to look at now, but I'm drinking milk (just kidding - remember that commericial, it was great) But really, this whole experience is kind transforming the old cottage cheese thighs/jelly quads something fierce, and I bet come April, I might actually be a TP. Or at least that's what I asked Santa for, so let's see if the fat man can actually deliver for once (don't think I forgot about Barbie, old man, oh no - the mind's like a steel trap-I got you're number and I'll be knock-knock-knockin on heaven's door if I don't get those Buns of Steel I been asking for).
So talk amongst yourselves, let me know what you think, and give me some feedback or new ideas for the big name. And I will work on posting some pictures in the near future, once I figure out how. Cause frankly, it's a Christmas miracle that I can even turn the computer ON sometimes.