I find it ironic that despite our brilliant idea to share a blog in order to save time, we have both yet to find the time to post even a sentence. SO...here I go…. FIRST POST!!
I just received confirmation for my USAT pro card today so I have no choice but to race in the elite division this year. This decision has filled me with just enough fear and apprehension to motivate me for hours upon hours on the dreadmill and Computrainer in my garage. (Yes, I live in relatively sunny Northern California, but my daytime job does not provide for 1.5 hour rides or 50 minute bread and butter runs at 3pm when the sun still shines and the evil ankle-rolling pine cones are still visible.) So, I slog away to thunderstruck and an odd assortment of techno in the garage.
The point of all of this is to illustrate that I have no time in my life to do the important things...like shop for food. Between working full-time, training full-time, going to pilates and ART, pretending to clean and organize our house, and hanging with my very fabulous husband-sherpa Matt, I have discovered that I have no time to drive 10 minutes to WF or Traders for food. I have further ascertained that the failure to g-shop only leads to marital irritability. I have also learned that I cannot perform on Black Cherry Cliff Bloks, stale oatmeal, and the rogue carton of yogurt in my fridge alone.
I have been complaining to Purse (Lindsey...a story for another day) about this conundrum for months now and she keeps telling me to check out Costco. COSTCO? The big box store where you can only buy toilet paper in groups of 2 billion? The store where there are more hormones raging in the chicken than those in a 17-year old boy? The store where all those "unhealthy" people go to buy cases of snickers and donuts?? Clearly, I am too good for Costco.
Purse knew this about me and being the friend that she is, guilted me into going there by actually buying me a membership and sending it to me in a mug that says “Slut.” I had no excuses. To not go would mean I was spitting upon our friendship, and I really need my virtual training partner. So, during a particularly stressful week in which Matt was forced to eat the last remaining ancient Soy Pup and where we were planning a party for many people, we embarked upon our virgin trip to Costco.
Upon entering the store, we were immediately flagged down by some woman in a red vest for not having the proper documentation. We sat in line at the membership service desk while someone was demanding a refund for a faulty diaper, and then finally we were able to fill out our paperwork. In addition to this paperwork, team Costco required that we take a picture for our new membership cards. Now, I had just finished a Paulo-special z4 run so my Costco membership card will be forever emblazoned with what looks like my mug shot...black hooded sweatshirt and all. Awesome.
FINALLY, we became full-fledged members of Costco and were ushered through the pearly gates into a paradise of cheap flat screens, books half price, 50-packs of razor blades, and a trillion aisles of food. Wanting to prove Purse wrong, I headed for the frozen aisles in search of some stuff that I deemed worthy to eat. I am here to report, however, that Purse was indeed correct. This place rocks! I can buy 200 organic chicken breasts that are already cut and ready to eat! I can buy bulk bags of spinach that promise not to rot! I even found a bag of frozen berries that will last me through race season. This place also has organic produce for cheap. Furthermore, Costco’s lack of plastic bags at checkout could be evidence of some green thinking.
Matt and I left Costco with the car filled with good stuff and now we plan to live happily ever after on already cooked chicken, spinach, almonds, and apples. I can now look forward to milestone achievements in training, due to my access to adequate and fast fuel.
I just received confirmation for my USAT pro card today so I have no choice but to race in the elite division this year. This decision has filled me with just enough fear and apprehension to motivate me for hours upon hours on the dreadmill and Computrainer in my garage. (Yes, I live in relatively sunny Northern California, but my daytime job does not provide for 1.5 hour rides or 50 minute bread and butter runs at 3pm when the sun still shines and the evil ankle-rolling pine cones are still visible.) So, I slog away to thunderstruck and an odd assortment of techno in the garage.
The point of all of this is to illustrate that I have no time in my life to do the important things...like shop for food. Between working full-time, training full-time, going to pilates and ART, pretending to clean and organize our house, and hanging with my very fabulous husband-sherpa Matt, I have discovered that I have no time to drive 10 minutes to WF or Traders for food. I have further ascertained that the failure to g-shop only leads to marital irritability. I have also learned that I cannot perform on Black Cherry Cliff Bloks, stale oatmeal, and the rogue carton of yogurt in my fridge alone.
I have been complaining to Purse (Lindsey...a story for another day) about this conundrum for months now and she keeps telling me to check out Costco. COSTCO? The big box store where you can only buy toilet paper in groups of 2 billion? The store where there are more hormones raging in the chicken than those in a 17-year old boy? The store where all those "unhealthy" people go to buy cases of snickers and donuts?? Clearly, I am too good for Costco.
Purse knew this about me and being the friend that she is, guilted me into going there by actually buying me a membership and sending it to me in a mug that says “Slut.” I had no excuses. To not go would mean I was spitting upon our friendship, and I really need my virtual training partner. So, during a particularly stressful week in which Matt was forced to eat the last remaining ancient Soy Pup and where we were planning a party for many people, we embarked upon our virgin trip to Costco.
Upon entering the store, we were immediately flagged down by some woman in a red vest for not having the proper documentation. We sat in line at the membership service desk while someone was demanding a refund for a faulty diaper, and then finally we were able to fill out our paperwork. In addition to this paperwork, team Costco required that we take a picture for our new membership cards. Now, I had just finished a Paulo-special z4 run so my Costco membership card will be forever emblazoned with what looks like my mug shot...black hooded sweatshirt and all. Awesome.
FINALLY, we became full-fledged members of Costco and were ushered through the pearly gates into a paradise of cheap flat screens, books half price, 50-packs of razor blades, and a trillion aisles of food. Wanting to prove Purse wrong, I headed for the frozen aisles in search of some stuff that I deemed worthy to eat. I am here to report, however, that Purse was indeed correct. This place rocks! I can buy 200 organic chicken breasts that are already cut and ready to eat! I can buy bulk bags of spinach that promise not to rot! I even found a bag of frozen berries that will last me through race season. This place also has organic produce for cheap. Furthermore, Costco’s lack of plastic bags at checkout could be evidence of some green thinking.
Matt and I left Costco with the car filled with good stuff and now we plan to live happily ever after on already cooked chicken, spinach, almonds, and apples. I can now look forward to milestone achievements in training, due to my access to adequate and fast fuel.
