Well, I finally got ON the podium in expert. Not in the grass next to it, but ON it. 2nd place behind A.J., I’ll take that. Some haters may argue that there was a low turnout, but I still beat out alot of fast guys in my class, and others as well. When I compare my past finishes and times to this past race, it is clear that I have made improvements over the rest of the feild. Not sure what it was; I mean I am really confused by it. It can only be one of two things: Mona Vie, or I am well rested. Maybe it is a combo of all the hard work I put in earlier in the season, with alot of rest lately. (by rest, I mean 3 hard 1.25 hour rides a week, with an occasional group ride thrown in and 3-5 gym visits per week) I have had no time to ride on most recent weekends. Hmmm, maybe everyone is just getting slower. Whatever, I gots my medal and I made all the boys stand around and wait for me to collect my paycheck baby!
Tomorrow marks the second anniversary of the now infamous “lips on my belly” comment. Here’s how the story goes…. So we are at cuz’s little sister’s b-day party. This is the fist time London and myself had been on a date in awhile. It was also the first time we honestly realized we were getting to be a part of the older crowd. London and I got there first which in recent years in itself has become an anomaly. We go to the bar and I start working on my favorite drink. London looks great because we’ve dressed in our best, hippest, going out clothes. We’re feeling right. Then the pretty people show up. An assortment of Abecrombie and Fitch models, all pre-med, show up like they’ve just spilled out of a limo and walked the red carpet. We fight through the imaginary paparazzi to our hibachi table. London and I sit on the edge. All is going well and I’m behaving for the most part. Introductions, kikoman flipping an egg in his hat, a few drinks and everybody is feeling right. By the time dude is making an onion volcano, everybody is loose and we are starting to fit in, sort of. Then the conversation shifts to everybody going out. I think the birthday girl wants to dance. I puff my chest out proclaiming I can dance. Birthday girl laughs. Inner-redneck man appears and does his best E.F. Hutton. The table talk and laughter came to a screeching halt as I say “shit I can dance, I can do all the dances. I’ll jump up on this table and dance. I’ll do it with lips on my belly.” They all looked perplexed. Mark looked at me like he was mortified, like he was actually embarrassed. Like he was saying WTF and meant it. I wanted to explain but thought better of it as London whispered something about being embarrassed. A few seconds later, that felt like forever, Mark finally broke the deafening silence by erupting with laughter. Not because what I said was funny, but because all of their friends found out I was freak in less than a dinner.