6th May 2016
What happens when you tri?
Whilst I was out trying to tri, the Grumpster reported in that Herbert was not ready to leave for school on time this morning. Surprise….
Having just bought a new alarm clock YESTERDAY to make sure the cherub would get up in time (if the Grumpster wasn’t back from the gym and I was still out running or cycling somewhere in the city), I naively expected today to be a good day on the self-organisation front.
I should get a prize for undimmed optimism about these things in the face of constant proof to the contrary.
Herbert had left the house by the time I got back from training with the South Bank Tri Club this morning. And school haven’t called to say he’s MIA. So I believe all is well.
But I came home to find this:
It’s not a great picture, so let me explain. This is cat litter ALL over the dog bed. (There was more, but Dexter had already had one go at removing the evidence). And just to be clear, we don’t defy convention in our house: we keep cat litter in a litter tray, like the rest of the world. Not on a dog bed.
(Why we have a litter tray, I’m not sure. Lord Oscarmort, being secure in the knowledge that he is a small dog, prefers to use the sand trays conveniently provided by the golf club across the road for his toilette).
What was more perplexing, though, was how it got there. The litter tray does not live near the dog bed. It lives 2 rooms away. You have to travel from the converted garage, through the laundry into the living room to get from one to the other. And the amount of litter was not something that can be explained away by a little getting under a paw…
Some things are probably best left unanswered…
But some good things happened this morning when I tri-ed.
I’d been having a bit of a sulk and a grump yesterday. Which is totally not like me, because my name is NOT the Grumpster. Ask anyone. I’m just ADORABLE. And they will give you that answer because – oh, I insisted that I could only provide HR adorableness rather than advice – in previous employment. So ask them. They will tell you…
And it is lack of employment that caused me to sulk yesterday. Rejection hurts. And I got a rejection.
I officially allow 24 hours of sulking in cases such as these, so now I have to get over it. And over myself. When actually, I just feel like I’m over being an adult.
(Personally, I think being an adult should come with a checkbox you need to sign up to, rather than being the default setting).
But my mood lifted this morning as I pulled up outside Cowch and saw other bleary eyed (and some not bleary-eyed – some actually really wide awake and CHEERFUL: Matt) tristers and their bikes. (Trister is a new word, spellcheck, so stop changing it to twisted. Triathlon peeps are not twisted. Not en masse, anyway. As far as I know…)
I had pitched up for my very first “Funky Friday” bike ride. The lovely peeps at SBTC (all volunteers) were running a beginners group, so the newbie angst of keeping up with the speedsters was eliminated. Two groups of riders (aiming for super-fast and pretty-fast speeds) set off, whilst road etiquette and group riding form was explained to those of us who hadn’t ridden as a pack before.
At the risk of waxing way too lyrical, it’s one of the many things I love about South Bank Triathlon Club. (Secretly, I’m a bit smitten, but don’t tell anyone). They have a policy of no-one is left behind. It means you can train hard for big ambitious race goals, or you can pitch up with no experience and still be very much a part of things. They will find a way for you to join in, even if it’s simply for a coffee at Cowch.
The downside to inclusivity is that as we were cycling over The Goodwill Bridge, I couldn’t just jam on my brakes to take a photo. Which is what I wanted to do, because the early morning city was dazzling over the river.
But that is not how you behave on a group ride. Causing a domino pattern of falling riders is not good form.
Instead, I have shamelessly googled a picture resembling what I saw:
I learnt several things on the ride. Good advice from Sonya. And good advice for anyone who is ever tempted to cycle at the back with Scott: don’t. He might well take you on a diversion that adds in several hills. It was a thrill Renee had not anticipated before she struck out on her first ever on-road ride!!
Endorphins, good coffee and great company are fabulous at combatting a dose of the sulks. And it made me realise that adulting has redeeming features. Like being able to eat chocolate at any time of the day or night including before breakfast without getting in trouble with your mum…
I didn’t. (This time, anyway…)
And all of that happens when you tri…
jolly tribaby; jolly tribaby; jolly tribaby; jolly tribaby; jolly tribaby; jolly tribaby