Tour de Flunk

Oh, boo. Lance Armstrong is a bust. You know, there's something to be said about shopping within your price range, haha. Physically, Lance Armstrong was way outta my league: a three-time Iron Man (the full one!), running the Seattle Marathon in November just because a friend wants company, etc. Physically: way out of my league.

I thought he was looking for a "project," and what a fine project I am, I must say. But, it turns out, maybe too much of a project for him. Part of this may have to do with my own merchandising: I told you, I will not upsell my abilities. I'd hate to get caught in a lie. So there were a couple comments - we saw a woman riding a bike on the waterfront who was very obviously wobbly and not in great control...he asked me if I was better than that. Maybe I should have been more indignant, haha. I said of course I was, but later he did ask something again about control of the bike. I was like, "Umm, what would I have problems controlling? Do you mean am I falling down or something?" He asked another time if I was prepared to run the 10/28 half marathon in Snohomish...well, I haven't been running but I am working out like a monster, and I will do it and I will finish it one way or another...on my hands and knees if I have to. Anyway, I think he was just having some nagging little doubts about my fitness level. Which, I must say, is an awesome EARLY fitness level. I am completely and utterly badass for where I have come from. I have a long ways to go to be able to just wing it and do a full marathon just to keep a friend company, haha.

Thass me.

But it really all unraveled with Lance Armstrong because of The Horror. We ended up going out on Friday night - really, he couldn't get enough of me at that point. I am quite intoxicating. He called Friday and said his daughter's football game (she's a cheerleader) was early, and would I be able to go out afterward? I said sure. We really enjoyed each other's company and there was such fun chemistry, and we made out like high school kids in his truck (um, I actually did that in high school, haha, it was a bit deja vu). And once he got his hands on The Horror, the temperature dropped like 20 degrees. Deep sigh. I had explained, somewhat, that I have plastic surgery planned. I didn't talk about weight loss or weight loss surgery, just that I needed some plastic surgery to fix a problem I was unhappy about.

Anyway. I think the general perception is that I am pretty small, and could maybe stand to lose some weight around the middle. You don't know, unless you see for yourself, the monstrosity I'm packing under my clothes. It really, really, really sucks. Come hell or high water, I am going to figure out a way to have that tummy tuck done next year. It is so damaging for me to look at that wreck, and honestly, between Lance Armstrong's and Greg's reactions to it, I'm keeping myself under lock and key for awhile.

Lance Armstrong called me Saturday, but there was a huge chill in the air compared to how much he had contacted me over the course of the week. On Sunday morning, he texted that something had come up with his daughter and he couldn't make it, sorry. Boo. I knew that was coming - I had gone out with a friend on Saturday night and said I needed to decide which bike club ride I was doing the next morning, because I was sure I wouldn't be riding with Lance Armstrong.

It's sour grapes to say that there was another couple issues that were of concern to me. I confirmed on Friday that he is an alcoholic, thirteen years sober. I have two good friends who have strongly urged me to not date alcoholics unless I plan on quitting drinking entirely. I do not plan on quitting drinking. Lance Armstrong wouldn't go into a bar on Friday: this makes sense, duh. I like to go into bars. Also, he wore a nicotine patch: he hasn't had a cigarette in over seven months, but he wears a patch when he wants a cigarette. Between all this and the exercise, the extreme, extreme exercise, do you see a pattern? Major addictive personality. I can't decide if, as another majorly addictive personality, I would be well-suited or horribly-suited with another one like me. Heck, we could sit around and do P90X and slap nicotine patches all over each other. ;) But the alcoholic thing: I really have to think about this one because although I am not a big drinker, I do drink and I do enjoy it. It is part of my social repertoire.

Okay, bye bye Lance Armstrong. And I've taken my online profile down for awhile. The very NATURE of online dating is rejection: you're meeting quickly to see if there's a match. Yes/No for you, Yes/No for him. Yesterday, I threw a complete and utter SHIT FIT about Lance and my stupid, horrible, exhausting life. It's been brewing, believe me. :) I told you, this time of year is very hard for me for some reason. I just want someone to enjoy and spend my kid-free time with, there are people EVERYWHERE in relationships, and between my three kids and my wrecked body, I'm a total man-leper. Kim reminded me two things, because she loves me:

- I could have a man, too. I have dated several men who would have happily been with me. Retired Navy is the most recent example. He adored me and hell, he probably would have paid for my plastic surgery. On paper, that man was fan-freaking-tastic. But he wasn't right for me, and I knew it. I want to be with someone, but obviously, it is not within me to settle. This is a good thing.

- With my post-WLS body, I may be having trouble finding a relationship, but it's a door that wasn't even open to me before surgery and the weight loss. I tried. I could not, and did not, generate any genuine interest from men when I was 263 pounds. Heck, even a YEAR ago, I wasn't generating this kind of interest. Now I am getting to touch Iron Men. :) Me likey.

Well, I am proud of myself, because yesterday I did get my butt on that bike and go join a Cascade Bike Club ride, my very first group ride. And because I am a weird mix of outgoing and terribly shy, I was as nervous as heck to go. But I did it anyway, because it was something I wanted to do. And I had a wonderful time! It was a 19 mile ride on a flat trail. I'm delighted to say that the pace was WAY TOO SLOW for me! The leader told me I should bump up a couple of levels in my ride difficulty next time. So take that, Lance Armstrong.

I don't need you, Superman...I've got it all under control myself.

This weekend, then, I did a 30-mile ride on Saturday, alone, and the 19-mile ride with Cascade on Sunday. SUPER STAR!! The 30-mile ride was my longest to date. I did learn one hard lesson, though. With my post-WLS tummy, sometimes I genuinely forget to eat. And on Saturday morning, I was really rushing - trying to get in a long ride before my son's football game at 12:30. So I scrambled out the door, never taking a bite of food. At the 15-mile turn-around point for my ride, I felt great. At 22-miles, I noticed that I was feeling very spacey. Uhh, *very* spacey. I knew I needed to find a stopping point pretty darn quickly. And then this man came up behind me and started talking LOUDLY, he was riding closely and saying that we both had the same black stripes up our backs (it was wet outside). He was basically trying to pick me up, I think, but I was really running on fumes. I darn near ran my bike off the trail and I remember wanting him to SHUT UP. I was out of it. :) Fortunately there was a Jack in the Box right there, and fortunately I was smart enough to bring cash (but not smart enough to bring snacks). I had to stop for lunch in the middle of my ride and get my head about me again. I missed the first half of my son's football game. :(

Lesson learned. Lots of lessons learned this weekend, actually. :)