2 weekends ago I went to Louisville with some friends to volunteer and spectate at Ironman Louisville (more on that in a minute), so I wanted some mindless stockinette stitch to work on in the car. My goal was to get past the lace part of the Rebecca skirt I had chosen to do. The night before I left, I was knitting away, watching "The Devil Wears Prada" and confident that I was going to get through the lace before I went to bed. Uh-oh. I realized I was knitting a moebius. A f*cking moebius. That damn first stitch got twisted when I joined way back in the beginning. So I ripped it out, cast on 399 stitches AGAIN, and got a migraine before heading to bed at 11pm. At 445am I'm up and out the door, knitting in hand. I was SO CAREFUL not to twist that damn first stitch again, so I knit with confidence in car that morning. On the way home the next morning (yes, it was a quick trip), I double-checked my knitting. F*cking moebius #2. Sh!t. F*ck the Rebecca skirt. I am now working on a vest for DH and a Clapotis (better late than never, huh?). Pictures will be posted later this week.
Ironman Louisville report: My friends and I caught bikes from noon to 3pm and had a blast. As the athletes reached the end of the 112-mile bike leg, they dismounted, ran/walked/limped with their bikes to the transition area, threw/gave their bikes to us, and headed off to the changing tents to get ready for their marathon. We worked the first shift, so we got the fast people's bikes. It was so cool yet a little intimidating! They are the ones running fast, throwing their bikes at you. The trick was to grab it by the handlebars and the saddle then immediately pick it up off the ground to stop the momentum. One nerd in my tri club didn't do that and ended up hitting the ground, pulling the bike on him. Goober.
After the bike catching, we headed to a spot on the run course that was right in front of where the atheletes either turned right to head out on their second loop or went straight to the finish line. (Yes, it's cruel to do that. Every Ironman I've done has a run course like that. Bastards.) We drank beer and cheered on our friends. Some of us made friends with some guys across the street who are in a tri club in Indianapolis. We've decided that our club and their club are going to go head to head in a club competition at the Memphis in May Triathlon next spring. Fun! We haven't determined the rules yet, but it's going to be a blast. We exchanged email addresses, and the trash talking has already begun.
And now for the Uber-Nerd of the Weekend Report: Mike and I took our annual trip to Chicago this past weekend. We caught a couple of Cubs games, learned how to play Beer Pong (I'm actually pretty good), and ate a lot of food (I'm going to teach a killer Spin class tonight to work off some of that Deep Dark Chocolate Fudge Cake I ate Sunday night at the Grand Lux Cafe). At the game on Sunday, I was taking a break from sitting in the hot sun by standing in some shade in the walkway behind the bleachers. All of a sudden I saw him: Derek from MTV's "Real World" and 3 seasons of "Real World/Road Rules Challenge"! I am a HUGE MTV freak, and although I don't find Derek cute, I like him. The exchange went like this:
Me: Oh my God! You're from the Real World!
Him: No, I'm from here. I was on a show called Road Rules and a couple of the Challenge seasons.
Me: Oh, I know. I know who you are, Derek.
Him: Nice to meet you. What's your name?
**Weird pause in conversation. I look at him, he looks at me. I struggle with the right words.**
Me: I'm 35 years old and I watch all of those MTV shows like I'm 12.
What?!??? WTF??? Fortunately he and his friends were really trashed, so I'm sure they forgot all about it 5 minutes after walking away from me. At least I hope so. I hope I don't see him on one of those reunion shows, answering the "Do you get recognized a lot out in public?" with "Yeah. I once ran into this woman at a Cubs game who told me that she's 35 but watches all of the shows like she's 12. What a nerd!" (Audience, show host, and fellow cast members all break into laughter. Meanwhile, a middle-aged mom who tries to be hip but really is not sits on her bed, knitting in her lap, and cries tears of embarrassment.)