Perhaps it was the tri-gods punishing me for making fun of the suburbs in the previous post (sorry if I offended anyone by my sweeping generalizations - again, sometimes it's hard for me to totally convey humor, assuming I have some), or maybe just for my periodic complaining of the weather/training/whatever. Or maybe this is the gods creating another hurdle in my quest to be an Ironman to make me mentally stronger. I don't know - you decide.
Remember when I posted about finally finding a bike and the bike shop ordering it and me getting it in two weeks? Yeah, well that was over four weeks ago, and I never heard from the store. So, two weeks AFTER I should have already had it, I called them yesterday, only to find out that they never actually ordered it, and no one ever called me to let me know. Nope. Never ordered it. And the best - no apology, no responsibility taken.
So I kept my composure, hung up the phone and internally raged. WTF? Seriously. How do you run a business like this? Oh, and this was one in a serious of mess-ups with this shop, but that's another post. No more.
So not all is lost, right? Wrong. Went to the local bike shop where my first Felt road bike is from (the one I have been training on with the clip on aerobars - yeah - totally pimp) and turns out Felt is not shipping out another load until MAY. As in, after my race. So I asked about the Cervelo. Next shipment? June 18th. Translation? No bike for the Ironman. I have no bike for the Ironman. It might be hard to get those 112 miles in on my mountain bike.
This bike store (the second one) is going to do a national search to locate it at other dealers, but it is not likely they will find it, given the size (50cm). I emailed Felt directly, but am not hopeful.
So my road bike with clip-on aero bars is becoming the front runner for my highly anticipated first showing. Figures. I am about as scrappy as they come anyway, so its fitting that my bike (which by the way, is not even mine - I bought it from my sister who stopped racing right after she bought it to have a baby - she used it once) is basically put together with duct tape, a wing and a prayer. Fantastic. This is the equivalent of bring my 2001 Hyundai to the Daytona 500. That's the hotness right there.
So sarcasm aside (it might be hard, but I'll try - oops, lost already), I am obviously upset, frustrated, you name it. Following this disaster, I went to physical therapy, and literally sobbed in the office, in turn horrifying my already socially-anxious doctor into a near coma from his discomfort. And now I am just angry.
So if anyone knows a dealer that can get me a 50cm Felt S22 (see, and it's not even the higher end model - I'm a simple girl, with simple tastes) you will win my life-long gratitude, and maybe even a bit of servitude - we can see what can be arranged. Otherwise, feel free to wave at me on April 15 - I'll be the girl hunched over my fake aero bars, chanting voodoo witch curses on Mission Bay Multiport.