My space time continuum in pictures

Just so you know that I haven't been TOTALLY moping around, Mighty M and I finished watching every single (23!!) episode of this.

Which redeemed television viewing for me.

Since I was cut off part way through this, and have yet to be able to return to the storyline.


(Which made it very difficult to avoid spoilers all last winter!)

But now we have this to save my Mondays.

And this in my Netflix queue.

And with the addition of a bunch of this,

I will likely need this,

to get me out of my favorite chair.

(But the real nonesense is set to begin, because I just discovered THIS and THIS. OH MY!)

Null

It's always a bad sign when I start a post and don't know the title.

It usually means I don't know where this train is going. And I don't.

I have to admit, that I've been in a bit of a bummer space recently. I blame it on Ironman, but it also could be because of other things going on in my life, too. But Ironblame seems more convenient. And less messy, since the other objects of my analysis are living and breathing and tend to dislike being part of the, well, analysis.

Here's the thing.

Ever since I came back from Wisconsin, I've been -- well, to be honest -- depressed. Not in a clinical, should-we-be-concerned, kind of way. But I have most certainly been less fun to be around and have been a grump for days on end. At first, I figured it was disappointment for the sickness in the race and having to pull. But it continued on, and started to infect how I was thinking about other things in my life. I've lost my sense of humor and joyfullness. Everything is a serious conversation with serious emotional implications. And the typically generous and supportive Mighty M has no more patience left for it. Home is tense. I am tense. Life feels tense.

And I'm not usually like this. I'm typically a silver lining, booming laughter kind of gal. Bright side of everything. Not so much nowadays.

I'm trying to whittle it down to what is "really" going on (what is that about us? that we too often prefer the convenient explanation? even when it solves little?) and two straight days of time in bed nursing a head cold have helped.

Or not.

Sometimes you can spend too much time in your own head.

But I think that this may be one of the few down sides to my Ironman experience. For so long, I've been planning for something that has dictated my time and resources, so much so that I am now left wondering what to do with myself. Not in a practical, time-management kind of way, but in a more important way.

Where do I find my hope?

So much about endeavoring to try something new like an Ironman, and the activities around it, was about finding something inspirational to look forward to, something that I could always turn my attention to and find some element of the unknown and exciting. It defined me, as well as my time and energies. I absorbed elements of the process, and felt the hope. I lived the hope. I looked forward with anticipation, I planned with glee, and I always felt a sense of the next exciting step.

And now, I find, it is hard to recreate that in normal life.

And, my inability to recreate that feeling has come to distort my normal life.

I have a great job, but one that has its bad points and can wear on the less resilient if you're not careful. I have a great relationship, but one that falls victim to my need for the "next step" in a disarming and sometimes dangerous way. I have a healthy and happy lifestyle, but I am dreading my 34th birthday next month in a startlingly stereotypical way.

I have so very much that I love, yet I've been recently bogged down with what seems to be missing. My attention and my energies have been held captive by this negative space.

And I think what I lack in the process is my next big thing. Something to hang a hat of hope on. Something to look forward to, even on days when I'm reminded of the negatives. Perhaps especially on those days.

I need some inspiration. I'm not sure yet where I will find it, but I clearly need some. Because my perspective is distorted right now and, as much as I can intellectually make the distinction, I need something to navigate my emotional life towards the future. Positively. With hope.

Keyword Analy...huh?

Two orders of business today.

FIRST.

Somebody recently visited my little bloggy corner of the world following a search for ...

....


(ready for it?)


....


.... "why guys are self conscious about their privates"


Ummm. I'm assuming they didn't find the answer here. Cause I'm still trying to figure out why guys can't make the bed. I'm nowhere near answering the more (ahem) probing question posed above.

Good luck on that one.

And, SECONDLY,

Everyone can begin typing again. I've now read up on everying going on in the tri-blogger community. I feel, in a way, as if I've reached the end of the internet.

: : as you were : :

STOP TYPING

Seriously, folks!

FOR THE LOVE OF ALL THAT IS GOOD AND HOLY IN THE WORLD, WILL YOU

PLEASE STOP WRITING SO MUCH ON YOUR BLOGS!

I can't keep up. Ever since I came back from Wisconsin, I don't think I have once gotten my Reader down to less than a hundred posts unread. Now, the Reader just chuckles and puts the vague "1000+" number up there, which might as well say "you'll need to quit your job or get fired to get through all of these."

Plus, I haven't commented for crap. Tea? Turtle? Kicked arse on BIG races this past weekend. Have I commented yet?

NO

For all of the fantastic multi-post race reports floating out there about IMWI, have I posted ONE SINGLE SUPPORTIVE COMMENT.

Nope.

Why? Because I'm a bad blogger who will undoubtedly GET FIRED from her amazing job if y'all don't stop writing posts.

Seriously.

Enough already.

I love my job.

Stop. Typing.

Live the life you have imagined...

I'm here.

Don't worry.

And I am well.

Don't worry.

I know that I've been pretty quiet. I have been collecting my thoughts and emotions on Wisconsin and trying to pull a common thread together for a post (or, in typical Able fashion, three or four posts!).

I've found it to be hard to find the right thread to pull...there are so many different pieces and parcels of the experience. Focusing on one seems to paint only a partial picture. And maybe that's the key for now, to be content with an unfinished painting. Allow for more growth. Leave space for more life. But it's a challenge to not want to gather lonely tendrils of thought and make some sense of conclusion from the pattern.

But I've missed talking with everyone in the mean time, so I'm back to report. Not on my Ironman story, but on my post-Ironman story.

Because that's how it goes, yes? We all move forward and onward. And I am moving forward like usual -- with brash resolve and eyes full of hopeful ambition.

We wouldn't have it any other way, would we?

So, The Plan.

First, The Plan was going to have an iron distance jammed right into two weekends after Wisconsin. No, seriously. I was being tempted by an elf and still had images of glory on my brain. But finances would not allow. And my reasons were a tad tweaked. I wanted to redeem myself with a distance -- to just get through -- rather than put together a good race. Coming off of a couple weeks of taper, practically a week in the car, and nearly three weeks since my last solid run, another iron distance would have likely resulted in injury. Or disappointment. And I have no room for either right now. Emotional plate is full, thankyouverymuch.

The next thought was another triathlon -- maybe a half? There was one I could do locally that was flat and fast and tempting. Definitely a PR in the making after the West Virginia hills. And definitely a chance to have fun in a wetsuit and on the bike to close the season. But I had something else that was catching my attention and this weekend sealed it for me.

But what IS your next goal?

To that, I say Yo.

Bring on the Philadelphia Marathon, baby!! This has been on my schedule for the whole year, but this weekend I was out on the course for the Ovarian Cancer walk and was reminded how much I love Philly and love running there. And now I can finally focus on putting together a solid basis for an injury free marathon in the city of brotherly love this year. Last year mile 16 cracked me like the proverbial walnut, specifically at my left knee. But not this year.

This year I have a solid year of fitness under my belt. I have a ton of wisdom I've soaked up from other bloggers and hundreds of dollars worth of magazines, carefully paged through on Sunday nights. This year I know about how to execute hill repeats (form not speed) and how to spin up your strides (be the Kenyan). This year I will not miss a single long run and I will make sure to focus on quality rather than quantity. This year I will actually use the pacing charts when going out for a session, rather than relying on my old speeds of "slow" and "stopped." This year the Garmin will be my BFF, as well as stretching and (gasp) core work three times a week.

THIS YEAR...I have a lot more understanding of the training that goes behind training for a marathon.

And this year I have a partner in crime, so long as we can keep his knees together in one piece! And there's always the motivation that my favorite nugget -- Mighty M's niece and Adam's first born -- will be out there spectating. I'm seeing visions of pom poms and toothy grins. Put that and a Fall full of great local running events and the slow and beautiful creep towards changing leaves and crisp long runs ... well, it's a no brainer.

I'm running the Philly Marathon.

Love, Lil'Sis

Below is a guest blog from my sister. She was there every step of my day on Sunday, as well as every step of my journey to get to Wisconsin. She asked that I share this note with everyone and I must oblige since she knows where I live. I only hope that everyone has someone in their own lives who is this special to them. And if you do, please squeeze them extra tight tonight or surprise them with a call. It is so very, very important.

Enjoy... .

________________

It is true that we never see ourselves the way that others do so I thought it was important for me to pen a small “guest column” to give everyone a different side of Jayme’s story. Over the past year or so I have been coming to this website to drink in the thoughts and feelings of my sister as she sets out on a journey that many people never meet. Some would say the journey began a few months ago with the first swim, others might say it all started the day she signed up for the race, and still others might say that it started with the first whisper of the idea that this could be a possibility. But it started well before that- well before all of that. I can say with complete certainly that us Murray girls have never been easy to understand -- easy to look at -- but never easy to understand. :) We have a heart that beats just like everyone else but what drives those beats are unique to us. Our emotional journeys and family tragedies have require a level of self-reflection and introspection that most people go a whole lifetime without.

As a family of academics and intellectuals most of our “milestones” has been educational in nature…so you can imagine our surprise when Jayme announced that she was going to train for an IronMan. I will be honest -- I was not sure what she was talking about so in my academic way I went to the computer to do research on what exactly the IronMan is…and then I saw this: 2.4 Swim, 112 Bike, 26.2 Run. Ummmm -- what? I was shocked -- why would anyone want to do this thing! I just could not wrap my head around it -- didn’t Jayme know that she didn’t need to kill herself to prove that she was strong. For the past few years Jayme has been proving that she is a strong woman with a will of iron every day. I am not sure how much Jayme has said about the events that lead up to her starting this blog but perhaps a little background would help. My sister was/is an alcoholic -- trust me this is nothing new in a family that wears it tolerance like a badge of honor. I never really thought of my sister this way but looking back I see that Jayme had the same tendencies of most alcoholics -- BUT there is one thing that distinguishes her, at least in my mind, from others with this disease -- it was the manner in which she got help. Like everything in her life -- my sister chose to do things on her terms. She stood up and was honest not only with herself but with all of those around her about her illness. Think about this for a second. How often are we really truly honest with ourselves and others about our demons? If you say you always are…well then you are probably not being honest with yourself right there. It was Jayme who said she had a problem, Jayme who decided when and where to seek help, Jayme who set the terms while the rest of us fumbled around trying to think of something helpful to say. Jayme stood up one day decided to come out of the shadows and into the light on her own two feet and by her own volition.

I wanted to tell everyone how proud I was of what she had done. I wanted to shout from the rooftops that I had the strongest sister alive. But the nature of alcoholism does not lend itself to that. Had my sister beat cancer I would be able to join a race/walk and put a pink ribbon on my car that said survivor. But there are no walks for recovering alcoholics, no ribbons, no tee-shirts, or signature colors. I was never really sure whether my sister was aware that what she had done was truly amazing. As I sat in family group at the recovery center I heard the tales of other families who had begged, screamed, dragged their love one out of the darkness and were fighting to keep them in the light. Everyone but me -- my sister came willing. I don’t think Jayme knew then that her accomplishment was rare. In one of my sister’s first posting she wrote the following: “But it’s also part of the continuum of a larger picture – of a flawed adult with stubborn good intentions, much she feels she needs to repair and honor…” I never thought of my sister as a “flawed adult” any more so then the rest of us. In some way I think that it was her feeling that she had been weak or let us down with her illness in a way she needed to repair -- but she had not -- far from it -- she had proven that her strength and ironclad will were no match for something that rips families apart and destroys lives. I have always, and will always, focus on her amazing recovery and her bravery. I stand in awe of her -- beyond that of a big sister -- but as a person, a woman, and a friend.

I guess I should not have been surprised when Jayme decided to top off her recovery with the hardest physical race a person could enter. Most people would think that the struggle with sobriety would be enough -- but Jayme is not one of those people. She trained and trained and trained -- when it was cold outside and her bed was warm -- she went to the YMCA and swam. When her body first past a point it had never reached before -- she kept going. When her legs cramped and her knees bled and her lungs screamed -- she kept training. With each day and each step she left behind a life that was killing her and slowly but surely a belief in herself was reborn. We have all commented on this site that the IronMan is more about the journey then the destination and in her heart I know that Jayme knows this to be true.

On Sunday I went to the IronMan store and I purchased a t-shirt that says “IronFan” and I plan to wear it with pride…not because it symbolizes a race that many enter and only a very few ever complete -- but because of the journey it has taken to get there…a journey that was much longer and much harder than 140.6 miles. In the way of the Wizard of Oz -- through all of the thousand of miles that Jayme has biked, the laps and laps of water she has swum, and all of the road that she has tread beneath her feet -- we went all the way to Wisconsin to find something I already knew…my sister is truly an IronMan.

I can’t thank Jayme’s blogging family and the people who check this site regularly enough for all of their support of my sister. Thank you.

Broccoli first

Ever since I was a kid, I've eaten my dinners in reverse order.  Least favorite to most loved.  Thus, broccoli was always a first course for me.

And, as I'm sorting through my thoughts on my first Ironman experience, I keep finding myself getting caught up on the bad bits.  You know, things like barfing in the water and grinding up Old Sauk Pass on a couple of Clif Bloks and a prayer.  It's all emphatically disappointing and, frankly, it's getting in the way.  The bad bits, that is.  And you know what?  This weekend I toed the line to an Ironman with good people and family watching and had a BLAST, despite all the tribulations.

So, in an effort to clear the air, I have to purge a little post about what happened, so I can get on to the long list of good things that warrant much more of my thought and attention.

Broccoli first, please.

Bad Bit #1: Not finishing the race.  Yeah...that's a pretty big bit.  I have HUGE amounts of disappointment flowing through my body about how my Sunday ended and how far afield that ending was from what I planned and trained for.  But I have to trust my decisions and my own instincts and know that the story still remains valuable, even with a different ending.  I can tell you how progressively worse it has been to awake each morning since and remember this reality anew.  But life will go on, even without melodrama, and I will have excellent memories to share and hold.

Bad Bit #2: My propensity for barfing.  I'm going to use the word barfing, because there just isn't a graceful way to talk about this.  It's gross.  And indelicate.  But it was my reality for much of the day and the major reason for me pulling out of the race after 57 miles on the bike.  Yup, 57 miles.  But more on that later.  Let's just say simply that my stomach had a very different plan for the day and it didn't involve any of the nutrition that I had carefully scoped out, tested, retested, and trusted for these past months.  Am I bitter?  Absolutely.  Do I feel better now? Yup.  And oddly, feeling better now only makes it worse.  I want THIS healthy body back on THAT course.  I want a do-over in the most pronounced way.  I want to drive the 20 hours back to Madison this very moment and start where we left off.  But such is not life.

Bad Bit #3: What does this mean?  I have a list of possibilities, but it bows heavily on the negative and somewhat destructive side.  I've had five states worth of conversations with Mighty M about what this means and how it reflects on me, what I could have done to prevent it and what I can do to avoid it in the future, and how I will use this experience.  Will I focus on the "failure" to cross the finish line?  Will I use it as a learning experience?  An indication of a limit?  How will I describe how I feel about it?  How, in fact, will I feel about it?  Right now I'm a little numb and tired, emotionally.  I'm slowly pulling out the bits and pieces of my feelings and looking at them closely.  I tend towards brutal honesty and harsh criticism, but this is tempered by M's soft touch and forgiving perspective.  Somewhere in the middle I will find the right words.  For now, though, I am still figuring out what this will mean to me, now and in the future.

So there they are, my bits...my broccoli.  

I didn't finish my first Ironman.  I got wickedly sick and I couldn't make up the difference on sheer will.  And now I'm unsure what this means.

Thank you!

Well, Mighty M and I just (literally) walked into the front door, a little worse for wear but with many stories to share about the weekend.

First, though, a million thank you's to Adam, who did an amazing job keeping everyone up to date on my progress during the day. While I wish I could have stayed out there for longer, it was just fantastic to know that Adam was keeping everyone up to date as to the festivities of the day.  Adam, you're the greatest.  Seriously!

And a million other thanks are in order -- to my incredible family who had a blast all weekend, to my fantastic inlaws who supported me in abstentia with phone calls and words of support, and the astounding blogger community who I had the opportunity to meet and share stories with before the big day.  

So many thank you's.

And then there is a race report to compose, as well as myself to pull together.  I'm resolved that I made the right decision on Sunday, but I'm still wading through disappointment.  It's hard to want something so very much and find it so close at hand, but know it just wasn't meant to be.  There are many emotions to process and a story to tell, which I will very soon.  For now, we must go retrieve the second car at the airport and come home to hot soup, a rainy afternoon, and hopefully some rest.

But until I can share the details, please know that I had the most amazing time of my life this weekend and wouldn't have traded it for the world.

More soon.  For now, you have my love.

An Amazing Race

Hi everyone. Sorry it took awhile to get this out. I talked to Jayme a little while ago and she had to stop racing for the day. What we didn't know while she was swimming and biking all those miles was that she was also getting sick to her stomach. Unfortunately, this persisted during the swim and the first 56 miles of the bike course. Yeah that's right, she tossed her cookies while swimming in the middle of a lake with a couple thousand people and then decided to bike 56 miles while continuing to hurl.

Seriously, unable to replenish the nutrients leaving her system, she realized that she just couldn't continue. You have to feed the machine - and her machine wasn't open to it. Of course, in true Jayme fashion, she first pushed herself to the absolute limit. I'll let her tell you all the details when she gets back.

There are so many finish lines in her future and I'm sure the Ironman is among them. Her journey was an inspiration to so many people, including me. Her drive, determination and kindness is contagious. I'm so thankful she openly shares it.

Congratulations on your Ironman success, Jayme! See you soon and make sure Mighty M. drives the entire state of Ohio!

- Adam

Quick Update

Jayme started the second half of the bike leg at just after 1pm central time. Was on the phone with Mighty M. when they saw her and started to yell. He should be checking in again shortly.

One more ride around Jayme!

Mighty M. Checks in From Verona

To the best of my knowledge, Jayme is most likely in the second loop of the bike segment (each is 56 miles). Her dad, sister and Mighty M. were waiting to give her some serious screams of encouragement in Verona, which is about 14 miles outside of Madison and currently jammed with thousands of spectators. I haven't heard back from them yet.

Some awesome news. Her transition from swim to bike came in at 12 minutes and I think she was expecting it to take more around 20 minutes.

Conditions remain perfect. 72 degrees and light winds.

82 miles to go!

1 Hour and 44 Minutes Later ....

The live broadcast on the Ironman Wisconsin site announces "Jayme Murray from PA" as she gets out of the lake and enters the tent. Way to go Jayme!

Have a great ride!

On Your Mark, Get Set, GO JAYME!

Jayme's in the water! Talked to Mighty M. as she was on her first lap. He said it's a beautiful day in Madison. Not a cloud in the sky right now and the water is warm and not too choppy.

She expects to get out of the water around 9:40 and transition to the bike. Sounds like she had a terrific couple of days ahead of the race and was in great spirits heading into the swim. Mighty M. is going to call again shortly with more details.

- Adam

Speeding Toward Madison

Hi blogosphere. I'm honored that Jayme asked me to keep you all up to date on her progress during the IMmoo 2007. I've only known Jayme for a little over a year, but she's made quite an impression on me, my wife, our two little girls and, particularly, my brother-in-law, known in these parts as the Mighty M. I understand he's the one responsible for the flattering picture of me below.

In true Jayme spirit I will, of course, keep it real while getting you all the specific details that I can during the race.

I talked to Mighty M. this afternoon and he told me Jayme was slugging through Ohio after getting on the road around 5am. I guess air travel is just too simple a concept for someone that's going to use her god-given engine to go 140 plus miles. Thought I'd give her a quick call and see how it was going.

Ten hours into her drive, she admitted to having more than her share of caffeine. In her words she was just "getting into a grove" after some minor car trouble in the morning "freaked me out a little....well.... a lot." Filling the car up with higher octane gas than usual fixed the shuttering she felt going up some hills on the way to the local dunkin' donuts. So, both car and driver have gotten their respective fix and are cruising toward Madison.

Our conversation included everything from figuring out that the movie "Tommy Boy" was set in Sandusky, Ohio to why the rest stops were so enjoyable (they have Panera Bread cafes inside) to Jayme's utter (pun intended) amazement that there was a fair alongside route 80 complete with livestock and heavy farm equipment. She wasn't focusing on the particulars of the race yet - just enjoying the ride.

Anyway, point of this all is that she's on her way and should be in Madison tomorrow before noon. I'll do my best to post her progress on this page during the race. I have no doubt that she'll continue to achieve all she set out to accomplish and more. I also wanted to wish all those headed to Madison this weekend the best of luck!

- Adam

On the flip side

Well, the car is packed.  The bike is locked to the top, along with it's front wheel.  I have a cooler of fruit, nuts, water and crackers in the back seat and about 40 hours of books on disk in the front.  My triptix is highlighted and the tank is full.

Time to point Fancy due West and head for Wisconsin.

Time to SUIT UP and represent.  Enjoy a little fruit of the labor, as it were.  Time to test the resolve and push the limits.  Time to make my Mom proud.

Thanks to all of the raceAthlete volunteers who will travel to Wisconsin this Sunday to support those of us racing.  I already know you'll make the route more fun and feel worlds shorter.

Thanks to my family for catching awkward flights and watching the longest swim meet ever in the history of swim meets.  I couldn't toe the line without you.

Thanks to Mighty M's family for blogging for me while I'm "busy" and making sure I don't forget that I'm loved.  You're a source of constant strength and encouragement I rely on daily.

Thanks to the blogging community who have left funny, inspirational and downright loving comments on my ramblings for a year now.  I've come to find a rare and fantastic community with you that I value greatly.

Thanks to those who have donated their personal finances to Canine Partners for Life.  We exceed our fundraising goal and helped ensure that those who want more out of life can grab hold.

Thanks to Mighty M for everything, always.  You are my rock and I miss you already.  

____

I don't really know where all of this will end, but I remember where it started and that's enough.  See you in Wisconsin!  

Want to see what I'm doing on the 9th? Here's how...

So.

It's Sunday afternoon -- maybe morning -- and your attention has strayed from you household chores and you're looking for something to distract you from the inevitable task of mowing the lawn/running/biking/napping/training the pet pigeons.

And you think... "Hey, self. I wonder what Able is up to... ."

Which of course you will do, since you think of me every day. Right? RIGHT?

That's right. Good reader. Gooooood reader.

Well, never fear. I've gotcha all covered. With a guest blogger.

Booyah!

Meet Adam. Adam, meet the blogosphere.

See...wasn't that nice?

No, assuming Adam hasn't already decided to kill me for posting this picture online (*), he's volunteered to update the site as long as his sleep-deprived father-of-two-rambunctious- little-nuggets mind can stay awake on Sunday night.

Adam, incidentally, can feel the flavor of the tringles. I managed to talk him into the Philly Marathon this year and he actually said YES on the first try! And he's been reading the blog for long enough to know that poop is an entirely acceptable topic, cussing like a truck driver does not earn you demerits, and keeping it real is the only way to roll.

So.

Back to Sunday.

You can go here to look up my progress in real time by searching on my bib number (which is 53) after linking to "Track an Athlete."  And if you're awake and interested, I'm hoping to be crossing the finish line sometime between 10:30 and 11:59, Central Time, and you can see that LIVE here.

Otherwise, Adam is going to keep y'all updated with news from Mighty M, my Dad and Lil'Sis throughout the day until either he falls over with exhaustion or, well, I do.  Whichever comes first... ;)

Okay, guys and gals.  Soon, I'll be signing off.  But I'm looking forward to sharing all of the details with you as soon as I can, but in the mean time, you are in EXCELLENT hands!!  Thanks Adam!!

(*) Adam - you can blame Mighty M for this picture!  I was going to change it, but he said something about it being "just perfect" and snickering on his way out of the room.  So, just remember, this is All. His. Fault.

Procrastination at its best

Today, my forearms, hands and (somehow) right foot are covered with the vague smudges of bike grease that didn't come off in the first attempt of removal this morning. I didn't try very hard, mainly because I have reserved a finite amount of energy for the remaining responsibilities of my job before I literally check-out. And scrubbing my arms was not on the agenda this morning.

From whence came the grease?

Yeah, that would be from the little tutorial Mighty M held in our driveway yesterday afternoon.

Something I haven't mentioned before is that Mighty M has be on and around a bike before. He wrenched when he was younger for years and was a cat 5 (maybe 4?) racer in his prime. Sadly, he hasn't felt the draw back to the saddle since then, but he does know a thing or three about bikes.

Including the fact that yesterday I was 6 days out from an Ironman and had never changed a flat.

:: blink ::

:: blink ::

Um...yeah. EmBareassing! I know. But (in my own defense), I hadn't had the need to do so...you know, in an emergency situation. The kind on the side of the road. You know!


(Sorry, I can't jinx it by saying it out loud!)

So. School was in yesterday, with the delighted audience of my two youngest neighbors, Alison (4) and Emily (6), who were characteristically full of questions.

But I did it. Changed the front a number of times myself and then used practicing on the back tire as a way to LATHER my hands and arms with grease.

Yummy.

An interesting little fact that I learned? Yeah. Um. I've been riding on tires that are REALLY low. As in, "holy geeze, didn't you feel like you were riding through molasses?" low. And I have recently felt a little slower than I wanted to be, but I just figured it was my fat arse. Turns out is was at least partly due to my inability to notice when my tires are flat. (Like 55 psi in the back tire flat.)

Yup. I'm a moron. I get it.

But now I'm a moron who can change her own tire.

And somehow that puts me one step ahead!