I am in Austin, Texas--the Boulder of the Lone Star State--ostensibly on "firm" business and fulfilling my continuing education requirement as a board certified law dweeb. But the highlight of my days here is immersing myself in the active, multisport weirdness. I'm groovin' to the vibe dude.
Yesterday was an early morning run with Carrie from Tri to be Funny and her running posse. Then, in the evening, I bicycle commuted to an indoor cycling class at T3, Carrie's triathlon training group. It was over an hour of high cadence trainer work in a warehouse with only a big ass fan to cool us.
How much would you pay? But don't answer yet, because this morning, we had the ultimate Austin, multisport morning. We donned our wet suits and swam open water at 65 degree Barton Springs, followed by breakfast, again outdoors, at Austin Java.
We both entered the water and stroked powerfully in the pre dawn light. The cool, crisp water flowed over our taut muscles. Our hearts and bodies warmed to the task of being fully alive, together, here in the water. Lungs filled with air as we rotated rhythmically toward the sky--breathing in, breathing out, in . . . out. . . . in . . . out . . . faster and more powerfully, until we reached the end of the springs where she looked meaningfully to me, and we glanced at Desiree Ficker on the deck. I thought for a moment her eyes glistened with a tear.
OK, so that last bit is kind of an exaggeration . . . . in the sense that it is completely false. We actually just saw Fish starting her workout as we were finishing ours. That said, if I have an impossibly unattainable imaginary life about Fish and Des, I have a potentially attainable imaginary life about coming to this community. I am aching to live in a place where it is "normal" to see training groups going hard every morning, where I can walk to Whole Foods, bike to work, run around Town Lake, and swim in 65 degree open water every morning of the week. This instead of a place where I have to drive to Kroger, commute 30 miles before dawn in a car to work in order not to die on my bicycle, run through liquid smog-filled air, and drive 45 minutes to swim in open water the temperature of human piss.
Not that I'm bitter or cranky.
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Just came back from lunch and getting my bike tweaked at Jack and Adams Bicycles. The valet at the hotel, while helping me get my bike out of the trunk, actually recognized it as a tri bike, and engaged in knowledgable small talk about the merits and drawbacks of carbon fiber as a material for building bicycle frames.