Stepping away from my hate of all things poop related, I must take a moment to give a HUGE HUGE Congrats to Larry, who has a ridiculously good 1/2 iron race this past weekend.
First off, he placed second in his age group and 20th overall. WTF? Seriously, though. He did. The only thing I ever placed second in was a donut eating contest with my sister and she out-ate me by a glazed. Bitch.
Second, the morning weather at the start was something stupid, like 38 degrees. Again - WTF? The only thing that should be done in that type of weather involves hot chocolate, a fire, and some sex-making. All indoors, of course.
Third, not only did he not even want to go to the race to begin with, but he actually overslept and woke up only to my 6:10AM good luck phone call. The race was 30 minutes away from his hotel and started at 7. You do the math. He called me back at 6:30 wondering if he should even try to make it - betcha he's glad he did.
Fourth, and most importantly, Larry completed this race without the stellar aide of his unwavering race sherpa (read: me) who, I may add, had never missed a race in the last three/four years. You bet my ass is out there, sunburning, and luggin' his bags around, taking pictures, shreeching his name so loud that he turns to nearby racers and asks, "Whose that Larry guy? He must be so embarrassed," dragging him back to the car post-race and stealing his post-race cookies while he sleeps in the car on the way home. Hey, it's a small fee to pay for my services. But alas, this weekend my schedule did not allow, so onward he went alone.
Larry is training for his third Ironman, and with each one he is getting super strong. A little part of him wants to see if he can ultimately qualify for Hawaii, and I fully believe that he can. I am very proud of my little triathlon pal and best friend. He effing rocks.