master charge

I knew we were in for a treat when our motel had a "Master Charge" sign hanging below it, rather than the more commonly known "MasterCard." I'm not sure that anything, including that sign, had changed since 1979.

Let me introduce you to all the amazing features of the Parish Motel in Burley, Idaho.

You need to call someone? Sorry this phone will only get you to the front desk.

Towels come with complimentary holes and stains. See Kris's fingers poking through? Also note the pretty decor.

However, for 50 bucks a night (and nothing else available), it was worth it. We were minutes away from the start of our race. Ah spandex... now that's why everyone wants to do a triathlon, right?

In the end I didn't need knee pads but would have liked some miracle surge of energy halfway through my run. It didn't come. The last three miles of that run were painful.



When reading the official rules and regulations for my upcoming race, I was relieved to read this: No form of locomotion other than running, walking or crawling is allowed.

Anyone have knee pads?



Today I ran over a snake... on my bike. I was riding down the canyon and there were people on my left so I couldn't swerve. It was just a little garter snake and I clipped it below its head. I actually felt bad for the ugly thing. It was just trying to sun itself on a lazy Saturday morning and was not likely the same snake that caused my 2004 spectacular rollerbladding crash. That accident left me with scars on my knees and elbows and road rash that lasted weeks. I tried to save that snake by swerving and ended up in a bloody heap next to the path. Thankfully I did not repeat my mistake today. Sorry snake, your death was caused by your 8th cousin once removed. That's what they call "almost payback."


"how to" manual

{This is how to make a horrible situation even more horrible}

Last year I began swimming once a week for workouts and triathlon training. After many frustrating moments in the change room, I settled for the most flattering of the unflattering swimsuits. Sport suits are not made to look good, they are made for utility. The black TYR suit had been working quite well until I noticed this Saturday that it has become sheer in some sections. This was likely due to my breaking one (or both) of the two cardinal rules in swimwear: washing it in the washer or leaving it out in the sun. In any event, I had to replace it as I wasn't about to show more of myself than was already necessary.

I went to a local sport store that sells a variety of equipment and apparel. I was frustrated at the thought of trying on suits yet again. It is probably my least favourite activity, next to shoe shopping (I have exceptionally narrow feet, so I usually leave stores angry or close to tears). The change rooms in this particular store are located in the very centre. The doors are always locked and it usually takes a solid five minutes to locate someone to unlock it for you. I had tried on numerous suits and was torn between two. The mirror in my change room was smudged and I wanted to get a better look. My cell phone rang and it was a friend requesting a favour. I continued talking to her as I exited the room to look in the mirror in the main area. Somewhere between holding the door open and talking to my friend, I lost control and the door slammed shut. There I was... in the middle of a sports store, in an awful one piece swimsuit, with no salesperson in site. The door went from floor to ceiling so there was no way I could crawl under. I poked my head out to the left and saw no one. I poked my head out to the right and saw no one. I attempted to act confident but was shrinking inside. I took several steps around the store and finally saw two male workers talking to each other. I politely asked one of them to open the door that I had locked myself out of. I re-entered my change room feeling completely mortified.

So if you don't think that swimsuit shopping is that bad, try locking yourself out of your change room. It will make it one of your worst shopping expeditions ever.


(sort of) obscene public acts

Lately my blogging has consisted of lazy list-making but it's so damn hot that I can't think straight. I've lost most of my will to live, lying listless on my bed, hoping food will just appear. It never does nor does some angel to wipe the sweat off my brow. When I do venture out in to the fiery furnace, I see all sorts of things that horrify and disgust me. So, in my starving, over-heated state, I present yet another list.

*One that never fails to make me shudder is barefoot in bathrooms. Several fearless fools appear each week in the gym locker room. The floor has got to be teaming with bacteria. Is it so hard to bring cheap flip flops to shower in? Even at the airport screening area, I bring socks (if I'm wearing sandals) because the thought of my skin touching the ground makes me want to vomit.

*Ladies, really, look in the mirror and take a long, honest look at the thong riding up over your jeans. It's grotesque. Perhaps there are a number of men who find it "hot" but spare the rest of us.

*Short shorts that show too much leg, short shirts that show too much jelly belly, low cut shirts that show too much boobage. Do some people lack mirrors or common sense? C'mon, like 2% of the population actually have the bodies to pull off exorbitant displays of flesh.

*Scratching. Men are the typical culprits in this department, although I have seen the occasional woman. Sure, down low may be itchy but show some discretion. It makes me uncomfortable so don't do it three feet away while facing me or during therapy when you're sitting on my couch.

Yes, I could write more but now that the air conditioner is kicking in, I suddenly feel happy.


happy belated america day

I'm beginning to join the melting pot of America by giving you "Things to do on the fourth of July"

1. Run for freedom. It only requires a 5 or 10k commitment. I chose to be more patriotic and run the 10k.

2. Do some fire blowing. The only cost is a mouthful of powdered sugar (a.k.a icing sugar).

3. Spend as much time as possible with a friend that is moving.

4. Watch "Rocket Chick" bike up and down the street with loads of fireworks strapped to her head and back.

5. Watch kids light fireworks, ride their bikes around them and wonder how in the world they don't catch on fire.


you know it's hot when...

Your deodorant melts.

I got ready at the gym today, put my personal effects in my car and went to work. When I came home, I unpacked and thought I would "freshen up." Unfortunately my deodorant had turned in to liquid. Time to hit the supermarket.


o canada...

I have spent the last four of five years in the USA on Canada Day. Today's "Canadian holiday" was particularly amusing to me, as I sat in a Utah chapel singing all the patriotic American hymns in preparation for the 4th of July. I have chosen to live away from my homeland and I have no current regrets. That being said, I miss my country. I love my wonderful Canada.

A few things that make me happy about home:

Beautiful Banff and seeing the Rockies outside my window.

I love the Calgary Flames. I love hockey. I love that people back home love hockey.

Friends, and especially this particular travelling companion.

It always gives me warm fuzzies to see the majority of my family. The kids say the most hilarious things.

At home I can say washroom without anyone cocking their head and giving me a confused look. It is completely normal to say that someone "phoned" or to share your "marks" on your exam. I could bust up my arm, go the hospital and not have any concern if my insurance will cover it fully.

O Canada, my home and native land...

In my heart you'll never go bland.