1:38:05

Yeah, who knows what that time is supposed to mean.

I mean, last year's duathlon time seemed pretty meaningless because I didn't have much to compare it to and now that I do have another duathlon to compare it to, it still seems pretty useless.

The distances were slightly different and OH BY THE WAY the courses were like night and friggen THE MOON or something.

Um, Mermaid Series people - publish a fucking elevation chart, you asses.

Yeah - I could try to get below the fold before launching into my tirade, but that would be so unFinny of me, why bother - I say.

This is on the way out to the ride. I had no idea. Which is why I'm smiling and not flipping the bird.

People, there were some not-messing-around steeps on the bike course. Like - for most people, it was Get Off Your Bike And Hike time. Particularly since the race organizers were all, "Oh yeah, lots of people ride mountain bikes and cruisers for the bike course!" and everything.

Which - not nice.

Though, the super low gears you get on a mountain bike would have been nice for the...um...climbs reminiscent of mountains we hit twice on the 12 mile loop.

To say that I had not geared down properly for the first climb would be an understatement. And to say that I nearly crapped my chamois when we had to, on the return, travel DOWN this Everest-like incline on a grade that taxed my brakes beyond their comfort zone would again be a liberal use of the words HOLY SHIT.

There were some wide eyeballs coming down that hill, to put it plainly. Shit was steep.

And, oh, what's up with the friggen SURPRISE beach portion on both the start and finish legs of the run?

Not. In. The. Race. Materials.

Dirty pool, people. I just hosed a pair of running shoes, thankyouverymuch, because now they're irretrievably filled with sand and annoyance.

But, despite all the bitching I just laid out for you right there - I had fun. I had fun and I ran strong and I biked well enough and Bubba found me on nearly every leg of the race and then he took a video which is weird to watch because it looks like I'm just AOK except that I know that I was cursing a thousand fiery deaths upon the crotch who decided that a beach finish would be a good idea for the duathlon course while slogging through the loose sand presented by the Capitola beach.

But, all is forgiven when the Finishers' breakfast is laid out beautifully by Capitola Whole Foods, complete with tablecloths, floral centerpieces, Good Belly and pancakes and an ocean view.

Who doesn't love freshly baked banana bread and some yogurt thing with a smiley face? Communists and assholes, that's who.

Meanwhile, after my WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT BEACH FINISH PLUS HILLS ON THE BIKE COURSEing, I finished 9th in my age group and 45th overall.

That's right. T1 is still full of bikes. SCORE.

Not too shabby for a girl who never did any official training and did the bike course on a yet to be named orange spicy roadbike.

Forgive me, friends, I just can't commit. I've tried out all your suggestions, and some not perfect ones presented by Bubba and some super not perfect ones suggested by yours truly and nothing's sticking.

Well, one always comes up, but Bubba is so Meh on it that I have a hard time being all, "Yep! That's the one!" because I guess it's not.

Her true name is out there. I guess we'll just have to keep guessing. And I'll keep trying them on her for size. And since I've now outfitted us for dark winter rides to work (got a sweet muther of a headlight and some not sexy clear glasses and some SUPER sexy arm warmers), I'll have more chances to find her a fitting name.

Keep trying, I know you can do it. Because I just can't keep calling her The Roadbike or The Cannondale because that is so lame and boring. Particularly when I can freely and easily call Tulip, Tulip and everyone immediately knows who I'm talking about.

She's the cutest. Though had I tried to ride the bike course with her, I'd be calling her FUCK YOU STAY IN THAT DITCH right now because whoa.

I'm still scarred from the bike course, I guess. Though Bubba thinks that with some proper hill training I can finish in the top 3. Or, as he put it so boldly - "Baby! You could WIN!" - which is adorable.

Thanks, Coach.

Adorable and delusional - this is how I like my mens.

We'll see how next year's duathlon goes. I imagine the finish time will be similarly meaningless, but perhaps I'll ride [Roadbike's New Awesomely Fitting Name] to glory.

Go on - keep trying with those names. And I'll keep trying to win a race. Hey - at least one of these things is possible to achieve.