Oh, Gross.

Some of you may recall my bitter break-up with the St. George Triathlon via this blog. It wasn't long after that post that my friend Andrea asked me to help her train for a triathlon. At the time I wasn't in the mood, but Andrea's enthusiasm was infectious. After some discussion, we decided on the Bear Lake Brawl. She thought the water would be too cold. She was right. Blah blah blah - we trained, Andrea's aunt graciously let us stay in one of her houses near the lake, Grandma agreed to watch Bridget overnight (wah!). Today was the race.

Brian was my bike tech, my coach, and the photographer. Here I am before the brawl started.

This is my left leg where the leg marker lady wrote a dirty, vicious lie. I am not, in fact, 35 years-old yet. For some reason, Gold Medal Racing decided to call me 35 because I am turning 35 this year. THIEVES! ROBBERS! What's the big deal? Nothing, really. It just means I'm in a different age group now and I've always thought I was a long way from being in the 35 to 39 group.

The first "leg" of a triathlon, for me, is this:
Stupid wetsuit.

When I saw the Olympic racers in the water... walking through the swim, I thought, "AWESOME!" I think I even said that out loud. We'd be close enough to shore to walk for some of the swim. I'd be able to stand up if my goggles got foggy! This calls for some celebratory flexing! (Me and Andrea.)
Then we got in the water. It was cold. I couldn't breathe out in the water, then I panicked and started doing the backstroke. I hope everyone who went to Bear Lake on vacation this year got some good pictures because I drank the whole lake during my 750 meters in hell. (What if I'm right? What if hell is that personalized?) In fact, I drank it before I reached the second buoy and had the rare opportunity to perform a five second puke burp for the rescuers in the boats. For some reason, they were following me very closely. Once I finally got out of the water, I staggered over to Brian so that he could strip my wetsuit off. Sounds sexy? Oh, it is!
I was the last person in my wave out of the water. Love that. I made up quite a bit of time on the bike. I actually enjoyed the bike. (No photos of that because of my lightening-fast transition from the swim to the bike. Ha.) When the run started, I thought I was going to die. My legs weren't working anymore and I had one of those stitches on my right side. Once again, I had a Primary song stuck in my head and I thought that the sooner I finished this race, the sooner I'd get to see Bridget. Just as I made that decision to run faster, I was passing a woman walking. I asked her if she could run (everyone is nice in triathlons - it's refreshing) and she said, "Yes!" We started running together and talking a little. I noticed right away that she was taller than me and after her nice walk, she was ready to run fast. Too fast. She is the only reason I didn't start walking again. Thanks, lady in the green shirt.

So even though the whole time I was doing this triathlon I thought it would never be over, it did eventually end. I finished it. The only goal, really. Shannon, Jessica, and Jenny came to cheer on Jenny's sister as well as Andrea and me. Their sign was so popular that they ended up standing there holding it for a long time. (Secretly stalk me, get your picture posted on my blog.)
After a few minutes of celebrating (fun to see Eric, Jen, and Parker there), we sped back to the lake house for our stuff (no shower - wanted to hurry and see my baby and stink up the car) and headed to LeBeau's for a raspberry malt and some hamburgers and fries. We waited in line for about ten minutes before we decided to get something in Logan. Papa Kelsey's and Henry was the place. (There was a Papa Kelsey's and Fred in Grand Junction, CO when Brian and I were missionaries there. Good times.) While Brian was ordering, I started feeling hot and woozy, so I went back outside to stand in the shade. And puke near some bushes at the side of the building. I always like to alert Brian when I've puked. Here is his face after I told him.
Puking is funny.

Oh, by the way, we visited my youngest brother, Aaron, at his apartment in Logan on the way to Bear Lake. We brought him a birthday present, did some pull-ups on the only decor in the place (a fancy pull-up bar in the doorway), and I tried to clean up before I even knew I was doing it. Aaron stopped me from clearing off his kitchen table, but he couldn't stop me from picking an empty cookie container up off the floor. Did I mention I have ants?