Ok, so my first early season tri has come and gone and I have served notice to all the gelatinous wannabes that they're gonna need to up their game and drop some lbs. I won my age group! I guess the trip to South America is starting to pay off. The second girl (let's just call her "the loser") came over to congratulate me. I grabbed her bloated little hand and shook it hard. When every muscle fiber is as finely tuned as mine are you're bound to squeeze some goobersmoochers hand a bit hard as they try and suck up to you. You see I realize how important it is for the lesser-abled "athletes" to be be seen with me. They get off on it. Now I know some of you are wondering to yourselves, "Trigal, why didn't you win overall??" What gives? Two words: Training race Mongo. I use these small races to mark my prey and let them feel good about getting off the couch only for me to crush their pathetic asses later on in the season.
You see, I would've won but not only was it not part of my plan I also had a bit of a mechanical that slowed me down. I was on the second loop of the 13 mile bike course when some newbie just crashes into me and knocks me flying into a hedge. Luckily she fell also. She claimed that it was wrong for me to pass her on the right. I said "whatev" and accidentally spilled half my Gatorade on her while I stepped over her to get back on the bike. She said I wasn't nice and I told her that she had "better not start to cry because she looked a little dehydrated". Ok, I didn't really say that but I rode away not believing that this twit had the nerve to mouth off to me when it was clear that she knocked me off the bike!! I had time to make up now. I was blowing everyone away on the bike now!! It must've been the adrenaline kicking in but I've never seen speeds like this before, I thought. I finished the bike (with almost a course record for my age group this year). Now for the run. I only needed to maintain my position to keep my first place so I ran in the zone and didn't let anyone pass me.
As I crossed the finish line I saw my ever faithful Supersoulmate B waiting for me with a dry shirt and my jacket. "You won baby!!" I heard him say as I finished strong, showing the crowd that I had plenty left in the tank. I grabbed my shirt and told him "I'm not finished yet" and I went back to do a little cooldown run and cheer on the slow people. Just as I was finishing up my cooldown I saw the bike crasher coming in. She looked pathetic. Arms flailing, Gatorade all over her face and hair, knees all out of sorts and this ridiculous smile on face. Her friends were all there cheering for her like it was the friggin' special olympics. Anyways, I had to get out of there. I didn't waste my time with getting my award....I had a 50 miler to do after lunch.
Friday, April 4, 2008
Monday, March 24, 2008
Trigal's Back ALLRIGHT!
So here's some info for you losers.
As many of you I disappeared from the scene for a bit. Schooling wannabe and elite triathletes needs to be done on the roads, not on a blog...get a life jackasses. Things have been awesome with me. Supersoulmate B and I are closer than ever and life is exactly what I want it to be...well actually sometimes too much. I'll explain.
You see to be a true elite athlete you have to be like a championship racehorse. By that I mean you need to come from good genes. No, fatty, go back to the couch. Seeing what your parents looked like in your scrapbook before they killed themselves just after your birth won't help. They were fat and lazy and guess what? You're bigger than they were. You see, in my absence I was spending sometime in South America getting myself, well, enhanced! You see I found that while everyone telling me how awesome I am that I needed to push through and rise to the top of my game.
I sought out the services of Dr. F located deep in the mountains just outside a small fishing village near Bogota where he's set up an oasis/training/"therapy" facility. Just getting off the plane and taking the modest little taxi up to his compound I could feel my massive heart pounding within my chest. I was excited to see what the doctor could do for me, although he'd probably try and clone me if given the chance I'm sure. Once I arrived I called Supersoulmate B to tell him how much I loved him. He was so busy working on the apartment that he didn't want to stop painting it to run off on another crazy adventure with me.So, long story short, Dr. F was checking out my genetic makeup to see how I measured up when compared to other world class athletes. He mentioned that I might want to consider some "therapy" as I seemed to have acquired some inferior genes from my father. Of course. It would never be my mother, she was too strong and perfect for him anyways (and I take after her obviously). So sometimes you have to disappear to come back stronger, faster...you know? Oh that's right...you don't.
Well Trigal is back on the scene and my competitive edge is sharper and deadlier than ever. Who wants to play? You're gonna need some help to handle all this.Losers, don't expect me to post at the rate that I did in the past with the Olympics coming up...I'll be training and killing.
As many of you I disappeared from the scene for a bit. Schooling wannabe and elite triathletes needs to be done on the roads, not on a blog...get a life jackasses. Things have been awesome with me. Supersoulmate B and I are closer than ever and life is exactly what I want it to be...well actually sometimes too much. I'll explain.
You see to be a true elite athlete you have to be like a championship racehorse. By that I mean you need to come from good genes. No, fatty, go back to the couch. Seeing what your parents looked like in your scrapbook before they killed themselves just after your birth won't help. They were fat and lazy and guess what? You're bigger than they were. You see, in my absence I was spending sometime in South America getting myself, well, enhanced! You see I found that while everyone telling me how awesome I am that I needed to push through and rise to the top of my game.
I sought out the services of Dr. F located deep in the mountains just outside a small fishing village near Bogota where he's set up an oasis/training/"therapy" facility. Just getting off the plane and taking the modest little taxi up to his compound I could feel my massive heart pounding within my chest. I was excited to see what the doctor could do for me, although he'd probably try and clone me if given the chance I'm sure. Once I arrived I called Supersoulmate B to tell him how much I loved him. He was so busy working on the apartment that he didn't want to stop painting it to run off on another crazy adventure with me.So, long story short, Dr. F was checking out my genetic makeup to see how I measured up when compared to other world class athletes. He mentioned that I might want to consider some "therapy" as I seemed to have acquired some inferior genes from my father. Of course. It would never be my mother, she was too strong and perfect for him anyways (and I take after her obviously). So sometimes you have to disappear to come back stronger, faster...you know? Oh that's right...you don't.
Well Trigal is back on the scene and my competitive edge is sharper and deadlier than ever. Who wants to play? You're gonna need some help to handle all this.Losers, don't expect me to post at the rate that I did in the past with the Olympics coming up...I'll be training and killing.
Saturday, June 9, 2007
Back to the Grindstone
Just because I won my Half Ironman last week is no excuse for me to rest on my laurels. So today I went out for a ride on 9W. 9W can be a grind, but the fun part of riding there is that all the reindeer come out to play - bike teams, cycling clubs, triathletes, recumbent riders, and even a few decent mountain bikers all enjoy the wide shoulders and rolling hills. I like to ride up from Brooklyn as a warm-up (why sit on a train when you can exercise?) so I can really push the big ring once I hit the Jersey pavement.
Today I arrived about 9, just in time to see a few other triathlon "teams" (as if such a concept would really work in an individual sport!) gathering to ride. I gave the TriLife and Terrier Tri fools my best cold stare and took off quick so they'd see that they'd better not mess with me. I knew they were all jealous of my sick bike and awesome new outfit (I decided to show off my new trikini - why save it just for racing?).
On my way home I got passed by a few guys on a bike team going about 25 mph in a "paceline." I don't like getting passed, so I jumped on the back. I stayed in aero to make sure I could exert the least amount of energy possible. We were cruising down 9W - WEEEE! Passing all the bento-box carrying, yellow jersey wearing "roadies." When I had had enough of taking it easy I decided to kick things up a notch and make these guys chase me. I stealthily pulled out from behind without saying a word when the shoulder narrowed. HA! That sure scared them. The guy in front of me called out "Whoah!" I thought roadies were supposed to have good bike handling skills. Staying in aero I powered up to the front and gave the leader my best intimidating stare. I thought I heard him say "Let her go!" to his friends. Usually men can't handle being beaten by a woman, but it seemed like I finally met a few guys who had the egos to admit they were no match for TRIGAL.
Today I arrived about 9, just in time to see a few other triathlon "teams" (as if such a concept would really work in an individual sport!) gathering to ride. I gave the TriLife and Terrier Tri fools my best cold stare and took off quick so they'd see that they'd better not mess with me. I knew they were all jealous of my sick bike and awesome new outfit (I decided to show off my new trikini - why save it just for racing?).
On my way home I got passed by a few guys on a bike team going about 25 mph in a "paceline." I don't like getting passed, so I jumped on the back. I stayed in aero to make sure I could exert the least amount of energy possible. We were cruising down 9W - WEEEE! Passing all the bento-box carrying, yellow jersey wearing "roadies." When I had had enough of taking it easy I decided to kick things up a notch and make these guys chase me. I stealthily pulled out from behind without saying a word when the shoulder narrowed. HA! That sure scared them. The guy in front of me called out "Whoah!" I thought roadies were supposed to have good bike handling skills. Staying in aero I powered up to the front and gave the leader my best intimidating stare. I thought I heard him say "Let her go!" to his friends. Usually men can't handle being beaten by a woman, but it seemed like I finally met a few guys who had the egos to admit they were no match for TRIGAL.
Friday, June 8, 2007
Bad Attitude
Last night as I was doing my typical 3 hour Thursday night ride in the park, I chatted with a local aspiring triathlete and had the opportunity to give her some advice, which I'll share with you now.
This girl, we'll call her Missy, had to leave the park at 8 to have dinner. I tried to convince her to keep riding until sunset, since the more hours you can get on the bike the better, and Missy certainly needs it! (Normally I would be too fast for Missy, but I was on a recovery lap between intervals and she was going hard, so our paces matched). But Missy "had" to leave, because her significant other was expecting to go out to dinner at 8:30. It's our "date-iversary," Missy explained - they'd been seeing each other for 8 months.
Look, it's that kind of attitude that separates the E.V.O.O. from the vinegar. I'm like freshly pressed bright green olive oil - fragrant, high quality, and expensive - because I don't let my romantic life interfere with my training. But Missy, with the mindset of "make time for my relationship" is like old stinky wine. I have found a companion who exists to support ME. Missy will always be an age-grouper if she continues with the talk of "leave the park for dinner because my S.O. is waiting for me."
You gotta live for yourself. Your S.O. certainly isn't going to do it for you!
This girl, we'll call her Missy, had to leave the park at 8 to have dinner. I tried to convince her to keep riding until sunset, since the more hours you can get on the bike the better, and Missy certainly needs it! (Normally I would be too fast for Missy, but I was on a recovery lap between intervals and she was going hard, so our paces matched). But Missy "had" to leave, because her significant other was expecting to go out to dinner at 8:30. It's our "date-iversary," Missy explained - they'd been seeing each other for 8 months.
Look, it's that kind of attitude that separates the E.V.O.O. from the vinegar. I'm like freshly pressed bright green olive oil - fragrant, high quality, and expensive - because I don't let my romantic life interfere with my training. But Missy, with the mindset of "make time for my relationship" is like old stinky wine. I have found a companion who exists to support ME. Missy will always be an age-grouper if she continues with the talk of "leave the park for dinner because my S.O. is waiting for me."
You gotta live for yourself. Your S.O. certainly isn't going to do it for you!
Wednesday, June 6, 2007
Wednesday Warrior
Introducing a new feature here on my blog... The Wednesday Warrior! This award goes to an inspirational athlete, someone we can all admire. Today's award goes to (drum roll please)...
Joey Chestnut! Of California. Mr. Chestnut recently broke the world record held by Nippon phenom Takeru Kobayashi. Kobayashi dominated the IFOCE for years. He was the Lance Armstrong of his field. And yet before he could retire with his winning streak intact, this American upstart comes along and slaughters his record. Way to go Mr. Chestnut!
Stay tuned. Mr. Chestnut and Kobayashi will have a showdown on July 4th at Coney Island. It promises to be the battle of the 21st Century. Too bad Eric "Badlands" Booker has retired from the sport, or this could have been a banner year for the United States.
Congratulations, Mr. Chestnut. You have the stomach of a champion. Intense training and preparation clearly went into your success. Jaw strength and agility like yours come along once in a lifetime. I am sending some zen warrior waves your way. Go USA!
Tuesday, June 5, 2007
First name Mr, middle name 'period', last name T!
Hey suckas! I pity the fool who is a hatah. Mostly, I pity the fool who brings so much negativity into the world (ahem, commentators, cough). Like Mr. T., I'm going to have to teach these suckas a lesson. But since I practice the ways of a zen warrior, I won't teach these fools any lessons with my fists. I will teach them a lesson with my powerful warrior legs.
Well, obviously some people need more fashion lessons. Mr. T delivers.
Hatahs, eat your hearts out WHEN I SCHOOL YOU IN MY NEXT RACE.
Well, obviously some people need more fashion lessons. Mr. T delivers.
Monday, June 4, 2007
The Victorious Warrior
Sunday I competed in a local Half Ironman. Unfortunately due to trouble finding my race wheels, we arrived at the race site only 30 minutes before the race was scheduled to start, so I didn’t have much of a chance to warm-up. This probably cost me the edge I required to win the overall race.
As I was setting up my transition area, my nemesis L. said hello. I noticed her eyes were really red and she was sneazing. “Yeah, I forgot to take my allergy pills this morning,” she explained, offering a convenient excise for why she might not beat me today. This just shows what a numbskull L. is, forgetting an essential part of her morning routine out of nerves on a big race day. Luckily, I was around to offer her my stash of “non-drowsy” pills. I had brought a couple of pills – some Claritin and some Benadryl for after the race in case I got stung by a bee. The Benadryl was just regular formula because after a race I don’t have to worry about falling asleep. I gave her one of the pink pills – I’m really not sure whether it was Benadryl or Claritin because they were in the same baggy.
“I’m sure these are non-drowsy, right? Ha ha ha.” she laughed. “Don’t worry,” I assured her, “I brought non-drowsy pills.” Hey, she had a 50-50 shot at getting non-drowsy! Better than being bleary-eyed the entire race. Anyway, I’m sure the pills helped her, as she got second in our age group.
The swim was crystal clear and placid. At the start I got behind a girl who tried to lose me and I swear even kicked me in the face. So I grabbed her foot, pulled her down, and swam over her in one swift move. That’ll teach her to be a beeyatch again!
Though L. beat me out of the swim (she wore shaded swim goggles so the sun wasn’t in her eyes for sighting – a real problem for me on the way back), but I clobbered her on the bike. As I rode by her I was a good sport and called out “Good job!” L. usually beats me on the bike, so I knew my double secret sandbike training had paid off. I also blew by a ton of men. It’s hysterical when you pass a guy on the bike. Their fragile egos just can’t handle it! So then they blow themselves up trying to keep up with me. One guy was standing up hammering away while we were going downhill!
The only problem that occurred on the bike came at the bottle exchange. I tried to grab a bottle from a volunteer while maintaining an 18 mph pace (something I’ve practiced with Supersoulmate B.) but I dropped it. So I had to ride for 56 miles on just 1 aero bottle of water. Good thing I practice deprivation training so this wasn’t a big deal for me.
Coming into T2 I expertly already had my feet out of my bike shoes while I was still riding and was able to quickly zip into my running flats. Despite some major hip and calf cramps, I held steady on the half marathon run. I am proud to say that no woman in my age group passed me on the run. Clearly the volunteers in this race were a weak spot in the race organization. At mile 4 I was pretty thirsty and grabbed a water that absolutely soured in my mouth. “This water tastes like ASS!” I yelled at the volunteer. What did that guy do to the water? Pee in it? I admit I lost a few valuable seconds scolding the volunteer and educating him on proper management of a water stand.
When I blasted through the finish line and landed in Supersoulmate B’s arms, he was tearing up. “You won! You won!” He kept repeating. I was confused because I saw other women who had raced standing around at the finish wearing mylar blankets and eating bananas. Did they quit? “You won your age group!” he told me. Oh well, better that than nothing – many people would be satisfied with such a victory. It was clear that my intense training and warrior mentally have made me better and have given me the edge. Look out pros! Trigal is coming to get you!!
Upon reflection on this race, I have to say that it's nice when I can vanquish my competition without having to resort to gimmicks and cheats. I won the age group fair and square. The rest of you should do what I do. Looking out for number one and training hard is what works. Being dependant on others on race day is not what a warrior would do.
As Tarvold from Viking Quest would say “VICTORY!!!”
As I was setting up my transition area, my nemesis L. said hello. I noticed her eyes were really red and she was sneazing. “Yeah, I forgot to take my allergy pills this morning,” she explained, offering a convenient excise for why she might not beat me today. This just shows what a numbskull L. is, forgetting an essential part of her morning routine out of nerves on a big race day. Luckily, I was around to offer her my stash of “non-drowsy” pills. I had brought a couple of pills – some Claritin and some Benadryl for after the race in case I got stung by a bee. The Benadryl was just regular formula because after a race I don’t have to worry about falling asleep. I gave her one of the pink pills – I’m really not sure whether it was Benadryl or Claritin because they were in the same baggy.
“I’m sure these are non-drowsy, right? Ha ha ha.” she laughed. “Don’t worry,” I assured her, “I brought non-drowsy pills.” Hey, she had a 50-50 shot at getting non-drowsy! Better than being bleary-eyed the entire race. Anyway, I’m sure the pills helped her, as she got second in our age group.
The swim was crystal clear and placid. At the start I got behind a girl who tried to lose me and I swear even kicked me in the face. So I grabbed her foot, pulled her down, and swam over her in one swift move. That’ll teach her to be a beeyatch again!
Though L. beat me out of the swim (she wore shaded swim goggles so the sun wasn’t in her eyes for sighting – a real problem for me on the way back), but I clobbered her on the bike. As I rode by her I was a good sport and called out “Good job!” L. usually beats me on the bike, so I knew my double secret sandbike training had paid off. I also blew by a ton of men. It’s hysterical when you pass a guy on the bike. Their fragile egos just can’t handle it! So then they blow themselves up trying to keep up with me. One guy was standing up hammering away while we were going downhill!
The only problem that occurred on the bike came at the bottle exchange. I tried to grab a bottle from a volunteer while maintaining an 18 mph pace (something I’ve practiced with Supersoulmate B.) but I dropped it. So I had to ride for 56 miles on just 1 aero bottle of water. Good thing I practice deprivation training so this wasn’t a big deal for me.
Coming into T2 I expertly already had my feet out of my bike shoes while I was still riding and was able to quickly zip into my running flats. Despite some major hip and calf cramps, I held steady on the half marathon run. I am proud to say that no woman in my age group passed me on the run. Clearly the volunteers in this race were a weak spot in the race organization. At mile 4 I was pretty thirsty and grabbed a water that absolutely soured in my mouth. “This water tastes like ASS!” I yelled at the volunteer. What did that guy do to the water? Pee in it? I admit I lost a few valuable seconds scolding the volunteer and educating him on proper management of a water stand.
When I blasted through the finish line and landed in Supersoulmate B’s arms, he was tearing up. “You won! You won!” He kept repeating. I was confused because I saw other women who had raced standing around at the finish wearing mylar blankets and eating bananas. Did they quit? “You won your age group!” he told me. Oh well, better that than nothing – many people would be satisfied with such a victory. It was clear that my intense training and warrior mentally have made me better and have given me the edge. Look out pros! Trigal is coming to get you!!
Upon reflection on this race, I have to say that it's nice when I can vanquish my competition without having to resort to gimmicks and cheats. I won the age group fair and square. The rest of you should do what I do. Looking out for number one and training hard is what works. Being dependant on others on race day is not what a warrior would do.
As Tarvold from Viking Quest would say “VICTORY!!!”
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