Apollo: Greek God of the sun

"What are you going to do about the balloon portion?" Kitima said clearly and loudly at three in the morning.

"Wha?" I mumbled and probably spittled.

"What are you going to do about the balloon portion?"

"What in the hell are you talking about?"

Kitima's somniloquy was concerned about how I would handle the balloon portion of the triathlon.

"Go back to bed."

"But you need to fix the rubber part," she said and then she was out.

If she had an anxiety dream she'll have to explain herself...her blog is here: http://train-thisironman.blogspot.com/

I got out on the LVT today on my cross bike for a short bit. It was again in the mid 40's but the sun was out and it was one of those fall days that people like to call "crisp". After a few minutes I realized I'd put on my balaclava but failed to put on my helmet.

Oh my god. What will happen? Will I suffer a devastating brain injury? What will people say and do? Will people point, mouths aghast? Will I be admonished by a parent? Oh sweet baby Jesus what shall become of me! Should I stop and walk my bike? This is worse than smoking!

After a few seconds I regained my sanity and continued on, cursing the pussification of our society. That got me thinking about, "when I was a kid." Then of course I remembered my bike: The Ross Apollo Racer. Yes, you should give the title its due reverence and capitalize each word. Mine was a yellow one-speed with a two-tiered banana seat in order that your passenger could see over your head. I didn't own a helmet until I was in my late 20's. Took my bike over some sweet jumps, off a diving board, down snowy hills, over snowbank ramps, you name it and wiped out often and hard. It taught you quickly how to fall and more importantly how to land. Damn I miss that bike.

A short ode to Apollo both bike and God: Tis Apollo comes leading/His choir; the Nine/The leader is fairest/But all are divine.

After a short ride and some bikes of days gone by reminiscing (could someone please cue that "Memories" song...you know, "of the way we were" song...forget it if you can but it is in your craw now) I transitioned into a short run.

Down the path I could see a horse approaching. I love horses; don't have much to say about the entitled people in the saddle though. A fiftyish woman of silver curly hair looked down and said, "Wowwwww, you look just like Spider Man," and continued on without acknowledging my light and airy "Good morning."

Spiderman? What the...?

I looked down though and got it. I had black tights on, a tight black top, a black skull cap, black gloves and black Oakleys on. I was upset at the lack of a witty response on my part and doubly upset when I realized that it is the off season from serious training and the tight black top wasn't supposed to be tight. Frick!