things to do in Tempe when you're not racing

I was there. Yes I was. This picture doesn't really prove it, but it does show how relaxed and nice my fellow team-mates were just before they raced. Or at least, what they look like when they sit down for a meal.

That's my team and their spouses. That's me, between the twins on the right.

We didn't see you because we were at the other italian restaurant in town. Bummer! Celebrity meet-up didn't happen!

SOMA...in a word, it was exhausting. And hot.

I got up at 3:45 a.m. to go to the transition area. I was as quiet as could be, so as not to wake the fellow athletes sharing my room. I was supposed to be doing bodymarking with a bunch of ASU men's gymnastics team guys - I found them in the fetal position at the transition area (apparently they didn't bother to get sleep the night before), along with a bunch of runner bitches.

Runner Bitches - it's my new Term du Jour. You like? These are the women I sometimes love to hate. They're tall and slim, they have their perfect hair thrown up into a ponytail, they wear a visor and a perfect coordinated runner outfit. And probably a pearl necklace. And they have nice teeth. They're usually bossy. They're probably fast too. It's like Runner Sorority Club. Yes, that sounds nicer than the B word and still gets the point across... Still.

I am suspicious of runners who look too good. This is not because I think they lack talent, or are poseurs, but because they might look better than me when they are kicking my ass. The bossy thing is just the icing on the cake. Besides, who likes hanging out with people who have their noses in the air?!

I have no idea who the runner bitches were affiliated with, but I think Nytro might have a thing or two to say about them. Misty said something about a chick I suspect is also a Runner Bitch. They weren't all bitches, just some of them...

Anyway. Transition area was contaminated with runner bitches, poor ASU gymnasts trying to sleep and then the athletes started trickling in. I did as I was instructed by the Head Runner Bitch and started roaming the area asking nicely if the six athletes I saw needed marked.

And then, magically, the place was suddenly full. It went from one or two nervous bodies to ALL 1800 OF YOU. Instantly. I had a queue about 15 deep of athletes waiting for numbers. I had no time to match faces, ask questions, it was just mark mark mark. And be nice. And encouraging.

And maybe flirt a little.

Here's what I love about triathletes...They like to play Guess My Age. As I'm kneeling at one guy's feet asking, nicely "Age?" he says, "guess." I'm thinking tan, firm, hairless, this is the leg of a person in his 30's. "Um, 12?" I offer. "Oh, aren't you sweet? No honey, I'm 55!"

Holy crap.

And some of you guys? Man - you had a lot of real estate to write on. Miles and miles of warm, tanned muscle. Ahh, yes. A very cush job indeed.

So. Blingy bikes, frazzled nerves, and NO FUCKING COFFEE. I about fired my coach when he didn't bring me coffee.

He made it up and bought me a cup later.

The swim looked looong. I mean long. Oh man. I felt like heaving just watching you get in.

I watched about 2/3 of the swimmers come into transition. Some of you guys take waaay too long in transition - what are you doing? Changing clothes? Get out there already! Grab your bike and START RUNNING! You should have seen the pros - in and out. Fast.

It was at this point things get a little blurry - I'd been up for long enough that breakfast had started to wear off, my perkiness was tapped. I did get to see a number of you on what I thought was the world's most confusing bike course, and you all looked very fast. Right on!

Then I got food.

After that, I was good.

I went to stand under the bridge at the running lap point and cheer pretty much everybody on into their second loop of running. You all looked really good on your first lap, and less fresh on your second.

Yes, that was about the stupidest aid station ever. So many cheerleaders, so few brains.

I can tell that I'm getting better at this sport because I could spot the leader from about a quarter mile away, even though he was running with a kajillion other runners (on their first lap). And the second place guy (a long way behind the first place finisher). And the first and second women. After watching so many people you can just tell who is that strong.

I watched the second place finisher come back after crossing the finish line. He came back to stand the bridge with his suit half off, carrying an entire box of pizza all to himself. I couldn't decide if he was really lonely, or just didn't care. Probably both. I mean, he was that good, but he was there all by himself. No family, no friends.

Then I started to get woozy again. I had to go and steal pizza to watch everyone else I was with come in.

Then I got to listen to you all talk about your race. It's amazing what racing does - everyone sounded completely high, chattering like monkeys and I felt like I was ready for a nap.

You all did really well and I'm proud of you!

Here's one place where the whole thing fell down: No t-shirts for volunteers! Even without the obvious marking I had people running up to me at the VERY BITTER END asking for bodymarking. Maybe I just look like that kind of girl. So I had to ask for schwag. I had to ask nicely, but I got me a SOMA visor. Maybe now I can be a runner bitch...