Is "conversation" the appropriate term for a series of posts on a particular forum topic? Very well: Two Slowtwitch conversations caught my attention today: one short one in which $110 for a small-time Olympic distance triathlon was thought dubious, to which one commenter replied that the fee was "actually pretty good"; and a lengthy one about Nutella.
I talked about the price of triathlons in the early days of this blog and tried to make the point that organizers will charge whatever they want, and if they can stay in business doing so then they are de facto behaving rationally, but I no longer will pay high fees. More than $100 for an Oly? Outrageous. But the guy who thought it was "actually pretty good" was from San Luis Obispo, and that's Wildflower country, and the Oly there this year is $150. That explains his warped viewpoint. I'm looking forward to doing Blue Lake here the week before IMCDA and it's 70 bucks.
Now about Nutella. The prevailing view is that Nutella is the triathlete's crack. A little dab on a slice of apple leads to spreading it on a slice of bread and before you know it you're on the floor, a dirty spoon tossed aside, the jar pressed against your mug as you try to lick the last bits from inside the container. I suppose. But isn't it that way with a lot of things? With, like, all the things I'm not supposed to eat too much of? For instance: At Niko's behest this past Sunday we bought a box of granola at Trader Joe's. Now I checked the nutritional info and this was the lowest-sugar and lowest-fat granola in the joint. So it's not evil stuff. But except after a workout, I need to do better—a banana, a little almond milk, a plain whole-wheat piece of bread, maybe some cottage cheese. So as soon as we got the box home, practically, it was time for Niko to have his alternate week at his mother's. Leaving me with the box. All alone with the box of granola. The only shocking thing is that here it is, nearly Friday, and there's actually a little bit left. Of course, I probably won't go to bed for another half hour. And anything could happen.
So the lesson: Do not bring that shit into the house! The sack of pistachios, the box of granola, the Nutella. Because if you're going to—as I did today—swim 2,500 intense yards during lunch, and then ride 25 miles in big, hard gears after work, you're going to find yourself in hoovering mode. Your only hope? Surround yourself with good stuff.