Support me!

While I always assumed that people who wanted to support me in my endeavors would do so by sweeping the road before any of my rides, devising routes where the wind is always at my back, assuring me that there are no pretenders to my triathlon goddess throne, and last but not least, making sure there’s at least one piece of bacon waiting for me after yet another one of my grueling workouts.........this is apparently not the case. No sirree.

Apparently, “support” these days comes in the form of donning pink and buying whatever comes down the pike under the guise of being a “support breast cancer” thing. Now, not that I think this is bad per se – sinking money into research certainly can’t hurt. Though I do wonder - if they’re getting SO much money, which I think they are, how come no one has figured out how to do chemo without having the whole hair loss thing? And have no clue if or how diet plays a role? After all, I don’t want to be deluding myself into thinking I’m eating the pink M&Ms for nothing.

Anyway – it seems every day now I’m getting an email or something about buying some pink-beribboned inanit........I mean, some useful item. So in order to help you, my gentle reader, sort through the flotsam and jetsam of pinkishness in this most important of all months, I’ll try to direct your attention appropriately when I come across something especially worthy. Like this:


Yes, the Ped-Egg. Apparently if you buy this schloc.....umm, I mean IMPORTANT MERCHANDISE, you will be supporting those of us with breast cancer. I’m not sure how, but advertisers would never lie so it must be true. According to the ad copy: “The Limited Edition Pink PedEgg™ not only removes dead skin to give you silky feet but also helps in the fight against breast cancer!”

Imagine that, silky feet AND cancer-fighting too! The mind reels! The Ped Egg and you, fighting the good fight. I am moved to tears.

In other news, I’ve informed Deanna that she is slacking in her duties by not coming up with any new insults for me to write about. After all, I realize that most of my reader(s) come here expressly for cutting-edge training advice and tips as well as to live vicariously through the Tasha-Deanna smackdown that occurs on a regular basis, whereby Deanna says rude and sarcastic things to me, and I leave her by the side of the road. It’s a beautiful thing. The best she could do was to make some cutting remark to the effect that I’d have to cut my swim sessions to 3x a year down from 5, since I can’t swim while undergoing my radiation treatments. Hmph. Deanna’s just jealous that my swim time at IMMOO last year was 1:30, and hers this year was 1:15.........yet Deanna spent about 600 hours in the pool compared to my 6. What is 15 minutes? Nothing but a faster transition time at IMMOO.

Of course, in order to attempt to top me with the whole cancer/collarbone thing, Deanna has come up with a “heart rate” problem, whereby her heart rate supposedly skyrockets on occasion while working out, as reported by her heart rate monitor. Hmm, I wonder when might be the time to tell her that I switched out the batteries in her HR monitor for some cheap Russian ones? Hey, my Tony Little Gazelle is useless without the speed-o-rama doohickey attached, okay? Is it my fault that it takes the same kind of batteries? Is it??