We aren\’t triathletes you know…

About Us

Now, at first glance of this blog, you may think that we're simply machines, (incredible ones, mind you), superhuman even. But actually, we're real life, breathing humans, just like you! Here you can find the person behind the muscles.

Let me start off by telling you a story that takes place in the beautiful city of Santa Barbara, CA during the summer of 2001. Linsey, Christel, Stef, and myself took a train to UCSB for a week long field hockey camp… it all started on that train ride… things I'm not able to talk about, but drama happened.

In SB, we were housed in an apartment-like dorm for 7 days. The four of us were roomed with one of our close friends from high school, but on the first day we ate her Gushers and she asked to move out. …maybe she wasn't as close as we thought. She was replaced by a fourteen year old girl named Lily, renamed Lil' Lil by the four of us.

During these 7 days, we were taught by some the best hockey players in the world, played 9 hours a day, and finished up by eating 4 plates of delicious dining hall food. I'm serious when I say delicious. I almost forgot to mention the mustard smuggling… I don't really know what sparked this desire to take cups of mustard back to our dorms; perhaps it was the hunger pains of not being in that wonderful cafeteria. So we ate mustard plain and loved it… what's it to ya?

The first day we decided that our living room needed a little bit of flair, so used chewed gum to stick toilet paper to the walls. On the toilet paper were lyrics to Spongebob Squarepants' theme song.  It did its justice… smell of vegan farts and sweaty shin guards added the extra kick to our humble abode.

We spent the week playing all hours of the day; learning techniques that would make us shine back in our hometown, meeting new people, but most of all, spending the evenings with each other laughing until our stomachs were sore. Only one lil baby bead of blood was shed the whole trip and it was on my shin. A picture of it will be up soon… promise.  What am I doing?
Back to the mustard…. it was all over our floor by checkout and somehow we got away with the stains. During one of these evening mustard binges, we spilled yellow mustard all over the carpet. Not knowing our lil roommate was home, we began to yell at her, "clean up your effing mustard stains before we pound your face in Lil Lil!" Then she came wandering out of her room…. "Are you guys talking to me?" She knew we were kidding around, thank God. Thank God she accepted such wild behavior from us.  This didn't happen just one evening… in fact, it happened all but one evening that was spent outside doing Michael Jackson karaoke.

While this mustard was being slopped around the house, I had a deck of cards with baseball players on them. During down time, we would play "Hunka or Dunka," in which we would sift through the cards and vote on which one of them was good looking, a hunk, or which ones we would dunk. Then we voted on the top four "dunkas" and taped them to our field hockey sticks for good luck.

During the train ride home, the crazy Asian concession stand vendor would get on the intercom every 15 mins and shoot bits of trivia at us; the winner would get a free Krispy Kream donut. Sometimes he would even get on the intercom and just breathe. Sometimes he’d shout, “no more donuts!” And a few minutes later, “just kidding.” Great train ride!

The weekend in SB is one of the best memories I have, and for it to contain the three other girls I'm spending a month with riding our bikes means so much more to me.

Many of us have played competitive sports at some point in our lives, and we know what emotions are released during the game we play to love. We go into that game fired up, chanting with our teammates, all hands in. Over the course of the game, we get frustrated, eager, upset, and sometimes we come off the field crying. Other times we come off with a proud feeling of playing well. Whatever the feeling may be, we, as players, feel such a large spectrum of feelings. After the game, we are able to discuss the game and the feelings with our teammates and coach. Once we pack up, we leave the disappointment that we may have felt with our teammates, the frustration within, and all the negative aspects on the field. We are able to come away with a light heart and enjoy the bus ride home or the hotel room that we share. And we are able to mess around, run and hide from security, fart in each other faces, discuss periods, lead dance parties, pretend to be lizards, sneak an empty case of beer into our hotel room (great role models for everyone who thought we were serious), play 10 fingers, pee in flower pots, and eat all the crap we wouldn't allow before a game.

The reason I tell this story is to give you some sort of insight into our mentality. This trip is going to be a huge challenge for us. Some of us may cry, some may bleed a baby bead of blood… but I know that most of all, we are going to have fun. We aren't crazy cyclists, nor do we want to become them (only the hot legs part). We are riding for ourselves and our community. Cause we got the powa!




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