Please Don’t Talk to Me When You’re Naked

Please Don’t Talk to Me When You’re Naked
Despite blogging candidly about my crotch and readily peeing myself in public, I’m actually a somewhat modest person, especially when it comes to nudity. In high school P.E. I would marvel at the girls who’d casually stroll around the locker room buck naked while I awkwardly tried to shimmy my clothes on from under a poncho-sized shirt I’d stolen from one of my older brothers. Don’t get me wrong, I have nothing against nudity; I just prefer to keep my shit covered up to everyone who’s not my doctor or my boyfriend because the general public doesn’t need to see my...
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Dear Linsey Corbin

Dear Linsey Corbin
I’m back from racing Ironman Honu 70.3. My race recap will be up soon, but first I wanted to clear something up with Linsey Corbin, the female professional triathlete who won Honu and set a female course record because she’s all fast and bad-ass and and dominates the sport in a way us mere mortals can only dream about. First, a brief explanation.┬áRooming with Teresa often means I inadvertently run into professional triathletes because Teresa’s a pro and rubs pointy, athletically vascular elbows with the sport’s elites and I’m often tagging along like a schmuck. In Costa...
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Crotchfest 2012: “This Sport is Stupid and Gross” Edition

Crotchfest 2012: “This Sport is Stupid and Gross” Edition
Warning: This post is disgusting. You probably shouldn’t read it. I wrote it because while this whole ordeal was gross and embarrassing and contains more information than you would ever want to know about my nether region, it’s still kind of funny and interesting. And there’s some science involved, so maybe you could learn something. Something gross, but hey, it’s better than nothing, right? So I went to the Coeur d’Alene training camp, did a fever and cold-induced 80 mile bike ride, and came home with a Fergie-approved lovely lady lump in my nethers. It hurt like a mofo...
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Stop Trying to Make Flip Turns Happen, Teresa

I’ve been forcing myself to go to the group swims held every other weekend in an effort to improve my swim splits this coming season from “abysmal” to “passably mediocre.” I went to the first one on dead legs thanks to two hours of workouts beforehand, then missed the second group swim because I was running on empty and needed a rest day. The third class was this past weekend, and as always, I dreaded it because it involved me getting into a pool and using horrible form to propel myself through chilly chlorinated water. For this particular swim class, however, Teresa...
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Mediocre Athlete of the Week: This High Jumper

Mediocre Athlete of the Week: This High Jumper
My brother was a high jumper in high school, and he was quite good. He also excelled at hurdles — at 6’2″, he and my other brother were not cursed with the dreaded Stumpy Asian Legs Syndrome that afflicts me to this day. The same track coach who coached my brother attempted to coax me to try out for track, figuring I could bring the same skills over to the girls team, but after seeing me nearly kill myself on the low hurdles, he realized that some talents do not extend to all family members. I think this girl also had an older brother who excelled in a sport that she was ultimately...
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