I'm headed out tonight for my first triathlon of the year. It's a two-day event, so honestly I have a hard time calling it a "triathlon". The swim is tonight, in a pool. Then tomorrow the bike and run will weave through downtown Boise. So it's more like a swim meet followed by a duathlon. But whatever, it's given me a good motivator for my training this spring.
In related news, as Brian and I were turning in our registration paperwork the other night we noticed the "Clydesdale" category on the flyer. You see, some racing events offer a category separate from the age/sex divisions that the, shall we say, heavier-set participants can compete in. Those competitors are commonly called Clydesdales. Don't ask me why. I'm not so sure someone who is slightly larger than the "average athlete" would appreciate being compared to a horse with big feet.
Anyway, while scanning the flyer, Brian casually mentions, "hey, the female Clydesdales are 150 pounds or higher - how much do you weigh?"
I tried to ignore the twinkle in Brian's eye and the smirk on his face. He full-well knew that I was coming off a rough weekend of no training and indulgent eating. I could think of a few choice names for Brian right then.
Truth is, I am very tall - about 5'-10.5" (that half-inch is important). I am also height-weight proportionate, if not on the slim side. And fit. Most charts show that my "ideal" weight should actually be over 150 pounds. Yet on most days I am about 5 pounds under that. Most days, that is, except the night before we registered when I hopped on the scale right before bed to evaluate the damage from our weekend.
That night, I officially became a Clydesdale.
And Brian continually makes horsey sounds at me.