Pickles and Wieners
I’ve noticed something as of late – weekends seem to be ever shrinking (in duration, that is). There is never enough time, and this weekend was no different. I’m told this happens when one gets older: time goes by faster (our asses get wider, too. Coincidence? I think not).
Our friends Kevin and Lauren were in town because Lauren was competing in a girls-only triathlon. I didn’t know this before, but a triathlon involves running, swimming and biking – all in the same day, all back to back. No ice cream break, no napping under a tree, no kick-off brunch with a few mimosas. No, none of that. Just a giant burst of physical activity bright and early in the morning. I get the distinctive impression that some people actually enjoy it, but even thinking about it brings on that shooting pain under my ribs that makes it hard to breathe. But Lauren is super fit and looks like she belongs among the athletic crowd. The likes of me should stick to being a spectator, which is where I belong (even more so if there are snacks).
The event was taking place at Sandy Hook, a skinny protrusion of land off the Jersey Shore, the site of a coast guard outpost and home to some wacky WWI and cold war relics like old cannons and really big machine-gun-thingies. Since none of us had much of a clue as to where this place was, or what was there, we went to check out the lay of the land the day before the competition, so that Lauren could get oriented….. and that is how we accidentally stumbled upon the Clothing Optional beach. There were actual naked dudes there, in 60-degree weather, strutting their stuff. There were not many women, perhaps because women don’t long to go naked when it’s cold and cloudy, or perhaps because that area was more of a guy locale. Don’t really know, but regardless, it was fascinating because it was also, uh, odd – who knew….
Sunday, the day of the triathlon, we stayed at home. The event started at 7 am, which meant getting up at like 4 am to be there in time. So, in honor of all the women exerting themselves, we conserved energy by sleeping late, something I hadn’t done in months. We spent the day in such a lazy fashion we missed the Pickle Festival at the Lower East Side. Lauren did well in the triathlon, finishing among the top of her group – which is way cool.
So it is now Monday. Weekend is over. Back to work. Didn’t get to do everything we wanted to do. There were drinks to be head, friends to laugh with, and triathlons to be competed in, but somehow, the time never seems enough, because we constantly think of what we could do, or wanted to do, or should do. And of course, the pile of laundry continues to grow, and the oil in the car still awaits a change. But really, is that what weekends are for?
Our friends Kevin and Lauren were in town because Lauren was competing in a girls-only triathlon. I didn’t know this before, but a triathlon involves running, swimming and biking – all in the same day, all back to back. No ice cream break, no napping under a tree, no kick-off brunch with a few mimosas. No, none of that. Just a giant burst of physical activity bright and early in the morning. I get the distinctive impression that some people actually enjoy it, but even thinking about it brings on that shooting pain under my ribs that makes it hard to breathe. But Lauren is super fit and looks like she belongs among the athletic crowd. The likes of me should stick to being a spectator, which is where I belong (even more so if there are snacks).
The event was taking place at Sandy Hook, a skinny protrusion of land off the Jersey Shore, the site of a coast guard outpost and home to some wacky WWI and cold war relics like old cannons and really big machine-gun-thingies. Since none of us had much of a clue as to where this place was, or what was there, we went to check out the lay of the land the day before the competition, so that Lauren could get oriented….. and that is how we accidentally stumbled upon the Clothing Optional beach. There were actual naked dudes there, in 60-degree weather, strutting their stuff. There were not many women, perhaps because women don’t long to go naked when it’s cold and cloudy, or perhaps because that area was more of a guy locale. Don’t really know, but regardless, it was fascinating because it was also, uh, odd – who knew….
Sunday, the day of the triathlon, we stayed at home. The event started at 7 am, which meant getting up at like 4 am to be there in time. So, in honor of all the women exerting themselves, we conserved energy by sleeping late, something I hadn’t done in months. We spent the day in such a lazy fashion we missed the Pickle Festival at the Lower East Side. Lauren did well in the triathlon, finishing among the top of her group – which is way cool.
So it is now Monday. Weekend is over. Back to work. Didn’t get to do everything we wanted to do. There were drinks to be head, friends to laugh with, and triathlons to be competed in, but somehow, the time never seems enough, because we constantly think of what we could do, or wanted to do, or should do. And of course, the pile of laundry continues to grow, and the oil in the car still awaits a change. But really, is that what weekends are for?
Labels: friends
posted by Fe at 11:41 PM
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