Rotten Apple

Of all the things that can't handle Ironman, I did not think my computer would be one of them.

I spent 3 days reporting from IMAZ, working on a kick ass multimedia project that I would then use to wow the editors of Outside Magazine who would then pick me as their kick ass online intern, only to have my computer decide it was too much to handle and blow up.

When I woke up this morning, all it would give me was the spool of death. No Final Cut awesomeness. No dragging in of rad photos from Ironman. No copying of rad video clips. Just a rainbow-colored spool of death. It should be a spinning skull and crossbones, not a rainbow. That's just rubbing it in, Mac people.

The Mac geniuses erased my entire hard drive. It was the only way, they said.

The cold I got from staying up for several days straight to report IMAZ came in handy--when my eyes welled up with tears, I had an excuse other than being really, really attached to the virtual world of me that I'd built up on my hard drive over the past 4.5 years.

So now my computer works, but it's like it has Alzheimer's. It looks the same, but it's completely lost its personality. It's like looking at a cold, hard piece of silver metal instead of a reflection of the last 4 years of my life.

It looks like it did in 2005.

Photos- gone. Music-gone. Every file from this quarter of school- gone. Most of the programs I use- gone. Some of it is backed up, but not all.

I have finals in a week.

If I didn't have to complete this quarter with this computer, I would bunny hop on it with all 4 of my bikes until it became a pile of computer mush that I would then feed to a metal grinder. Then I would scatter its computer ashes somewhere computers hate to be. Like in water. Deep, cold water.

But for now, my rotten Apple is letting me write this blog. So for that, I must be thankful.

It is Thanksgiving, after all.

I am also thankful that all of the photos and video from IMAZ still live on a backup hard drive and tapes, respectively.

It's strange to become so attached to a machine. I saw my computer as something with a unique personality--as a reflection of me. I suppose this is a weird thing only the generations that grew up with computers experience.

So thank you, rotten Apple, for dying today so I'd realize that I am not the sum of my virtual components.

But I'd still like them back. Just 'cuz.

How to Go from Ironman to Sad, Squishy Psychomaniac in One Week

No previous depressive experience required.

How is it possible to go from this feeling:

(Yea! I finished! I rock! And yes, that is the TriathleteDiva jersey, now available at TriathlonLAB!)

To this feeling:

(Ahhhhhhh!)

in only one week? (With a 2 year build up.)

By studying these simple steps, perhaps you'll be able to avoid any/all of them altogether to maintain the unflappable emotional levels of a happy-pill addict.

Or, perhaps, if you're like a certain someone around here, you'll follow them exactly because you enjoy life in all of its extremes. Even if the lows bring on an unending need for chocolate and a subsequent ballooning tummy squish.

1. Sign up for an Ironman. Spend one year training. Feel ripped.

2. Get engaged. Become obsessed with wedding TV programming.

3. Complete 1st Ironman. Feel like most bodacious person on planet.

4. Buy wedding dress. Attend many subsequent fittings. Feel like princess.

5. Sign up for Ironman #2. Begin plan to cut previous IM time to shreds.

6. Get married. Feel like most bodacious person on planet.

7. Go on honeymoon. Feel like only and hottest woman on planet.

8. Return to fabulous gifts with a glow.

9. Compete in Ironman #2. Revel in new PR. Feel like most bodacious person on planet.

10. Flatline one week later.

Why flatline? This is not an inevitable reaction to the end of 2 years dominated by monumental goals involving loads of planning and selfishness. However, final ginormous goal completion leaves a gaping void in the future called the “unknown” that has been proven to cause anxiety, which cannot currently be blasted away with training, as the recent Ironman’s body is broken, so it has chosen the next-best anxiety-busting remedy, as proven by the ancient Aztecs: chocolate. In all of its glorious forms.

And when said Ironman comes to think of it, becoming a chocolate connoisseur is not really a bad side goal for training downtime. Another Ironman will pop up soon, again becoming a shield for any unpleasantness thrown her way in the year leading up to it.

Maybe Ironman is my happy pill.

For more on post-Ironman depression, a condition that actually exists and that this Ironman did not, in fact, make up, even though she realizes she makes up a lot of things, go to this article at Ironman.com. And for an article on post Ironman blues by pro triathlete, Jason Shortis, go here.

7 Band-Aids for the Crappiest Day Ever

Maybe I should’ve recognized burning my forearm on the oven last night as the bad omen that it was and stayed in bed all day today. But no. I woke up this morning to my first (of many to come, I know) rejection letter to a book proposal. Less than 15 hours after I submitted the proposal. At least they didn’t keep me hanging.



Then I walked to the gym so I could get my endorphins going and start the day fresh. On the way there, I noticed a parking ticket on my car’s window shield for having my back bumper in the “red zone” of a curb. Fine? $35.

Upon receiving my paycheck at work, I realized it was 2 days short, and that yesterday’s hours weren’t registered on my e-time card. And the one-woman HR department quit today. Who’s gonna give me my cash? I still have to figure that one out.

Returning home, ready for some food and a movie with the fiancé, I get a letter from a local university to which I applied for a 2nd bachelor’s degree. They’re not accepting 2nd bachelor’s degree applicants this year, as there are too many darn people in Southern California and their budget is too tight. Make do with the useless liberal arts degree you have. Try again next year. We’ll refund your application fee.

Ok, so that last one wasn’t too bad of a blow. I applied as a back up plan to a program I’m not sure I even want to attend. And now I can’t, so that decision’s been made for me.

Finally, I figured I’d see how the giant blister on my forearm was coming along and put a new Band-Aid on it. I pulled out the box of 10 extra large bandages coachancé bought me yesterday. It looked sparse; there were only 7 Band-Aids inside.

And with that, I’ve learned my lesson: If I burn my forearm on an oven, then I should not bother to wake up the next day. Or check my email. I should live a day in total meditation. And maybe buy some concrete-colored paint.

Going to bed at 6:30pm,

TriDiva

A Meditation on Post-Race Downtime

I should get up

But I don’t want to

Why did I set

The alarm?

I should do laundry

But I don’t want to move

And that would require

Raising my arm

Oh how did I ever become

Such a lazy bum

It was an almost instantaneous transformation

One big race

Is all that it takes

To turn my mind and body into a warring nation

Maybe the stink

Of my clothes and the sink

In the kitchen will get my attention

And so for now

I shall eat and watch “House”

Until my apartment is too gross to mention.

Happy Lazy Days!

How to Beat the Post-Ironman Blues

You planned your whole life around the event--maybe even for an entire year. Then it's all over in a single day. It's easy to feel lost and uncertain after the post-IM endorphins run their course. What's your purpose now? What are you doing? WHAT DO YOU DO WITH ALL THIS FREE TIME!?

Here are some suggestions, in absolutely no order of importance:

1. Plan a wedding. If it is yours, you won't even have a second to think about what you're doing with your time. Your new purpose: to be an Ironman Newlywed. And it's going to happen in style. Of course, you can always offer to help plan a friend's wedding--complete with bike-chain sculptures and FRS cocktails.


2. Try a sport you've never done before. Surfing? Mountain biking? Rollerblading? The thought of getting back on your road bike a week after IM could make your mind (or other places) go numb, so forget about "training" and just try something new.


3. Go to the gym and do some random machine (no treadmill!) like the elliptical or those silly walking dual treadmill things so you can show off all of your finisher gear to the gym rats. Wear your new jersey, hat, socks, shorts, and bring your IM waterbottle. You are so cool right now.


4. Invent a new sports food. In those weeks after your Ironman, the thought of eating another sports drink, bar, or gel will make your stomach turn. If you're TriDiva, the thought of eating massive amounts of anything chocolate or related to chocolate will make you salivate and jump for joy. Heck, you could even bake a chocolate cake and pass it off as the new super-fuel of 2007. You just finished an Ironman. Nobody is allowed to question your post-race re-fueling methods.


5. Sign up for another Ironman. Hey, if you know you're going to do one next year, you can continue to call whatever you're doing something related to your future Ironman. You are not being a fat, chocolate-eating slob right now, you are in recovery. When you go to the gym to show off your gear, you're not becoming a gym dork, you are "cross training" or "base-building".

You can beat the post-Ironman blues. Remember, it's a common affliction, and although TriDiva is not familiar with any PIB support groups, your triathlon buddies and family are here to help you through it, just like they were there for you all through your training. And all through race day...maybe you should bake them a chocolate cake...

Happy Recovery!