My mother used to say that there was nothing she wouldn't do for any of us. And that when I had kids of my own, I would understand. This weekend was one of those moments she was talking about. We signed the kiddiewinks up for a ski team at Alpine Meadows. They will work with the same coach every weekend between now and the middle of April. The boy is pretty solid on his ski's and what he lacks in form he makes up for with desire. The girl, though a little more tentative, has the better form of the two. They are in different groups to suit each kids style at this point. It's a lot to get them moving in the right direction, slogging their equipment up to the hill, getting them booted and bundled up. But they both loved it and can't wait for more. That's pretty satisfying.

I got to make a few runs myself. At one point I found myself going up the chair with a member of the Jamaican Ski Team. They have chosen Alpine Meadows as their "home" hill for training this year. So I'm sitting there and about a million things are rattling through my brain on what to ask this guy. (I kept coming back time after time to wanting to know if he knew the Jamaican/Wendy joke. You know...There's this guy who is in a fantastic relationship with this girl named Wendy. Everything is great except for the fact that Wendy is a little insecure. So she convinces her boyfriend to tattoo her name to his penis. And so he does but when he is flaccid, all it says is W-Y. So one day our hero is in the bathroom and this large black man comes in and the boyfriend can't help himself and has a peek at the feller's penis to...well...you know...see if it's true about what they say. To his horror, he sees that the man has a W-Y on his penis as well. Naturally the boyfriend is upset fearing that Wendy has been cheating on him with this guy. So while they're washing their hands at the sink, the boyfriend turns to the fellow and says, "I'm sorry, but I couldn't help but notice that you have a W-Y tattooed to your penis. By any chance does that say Wendy?" The large black man, while suppressing a throaty belly chuckle replied, "no, no, no mon, it don't say Wendy...It say 'Welcome to Jamaica mon, and have a nice day!'" But then I thought about what the wifeage might say if I asked him that and I just asked him about his training and stuff. I know, big yawn. Anyway, hope you are well.

Johnny GoFast

So I'm sitting there doing my post lunch thing, knocking out the Sudoku and moving onto the crossword when I hear like what seems to be the umpteenth flush from the stall next door. And then another flush followed in rapid succession by two more flushes. It was at that point that I knew concentrating on the Thursday crossword (which at this point in the week becomes very difficult for this less than crammed full of brain cells crossworder) was futile. So I started keeping a tick sheet on the number of flushes. I was getting alarmed when he was approaching ten very quickly. When I started keeping score, I figured that he only had about ten more flushes in him (for comparison purposes--I only flush once at work because the pressure is really good and knocks down even the most stubborn of craps), but it was immediately apparent that he was going to sail right by the over/under.

I know that we are lucky to live here in California. By the grace of (insert the deity of your choice here) and the rain that we get, we walk a very narrow precipice in this fragile environment. We literally sit with our ass over the cliff and because of a lack of attention to infrastructure regarding our water supply, we are one significant drought away from disaster. I lived here during the 70's and remember the damage that was caused when the skies failed to produce. It's only a matter of time before it happens again.

So when I see someone wasting water, leaving the faucet running, over sprinklering, cannonballing all the water out of the pool, etc. it kind of makes my skin crawl. So almost involuntarily, after the tick sheet reached 20 flushes in a matter of minutes, I finally uttered a, "oh come on. What the hell is going on over there?" And then silence quickly followed by another flush to which I responded, "seriously?"

"Are you talking to me," a gruff voice returned. I was now picturing somebody very big who ate spicy big food for lunch.

"Are you okay over there? Do you need me to get help for you," I responded trying to backtrack from my complete and total breach of bathroom etiquette. I normally avoid confrontations as if it's HIV or something.

And to my horror he shot back, "why don't you mind your own fu@#ing business!" And then he fired off three flushes in random succession but the second one didn't fire on account of the fact that the toilet didn't have time to recharge.

With courage I don't usually summon I said, "you're wasting a lot of water and that affects me." And then I called him an enviro-terrorist (but I think that is usually reserved for someone that does harm or damage to somebody they perceive as being dangerous to the environment). At the time I thought it was pretty clever. I got no response from the terrorist.

But now I had some concerns. My business was finished but I really didn't want to meet this guy out by the sinks so I waited for him to finish and leave. I also noodled through the fact that he might bust down my door and with me sitting there with my pants at my ankles, well, I didn't really like that option all that much. But I stayed put and continued with my tick sheet. I counted more than 40 flushes at 6 gpf's. That's what it says on the toilet so I'm assuming that it means 6 gallons per flush. That's 240 gallons of water down the sewer. That's like three big hot water heaters full of water. Crap all mighty! Anyway, disturbing to say the least. Hope you are well and a little more environmentally conscious than my bathroom mate this afternoon.

Johnny GoFast

Rrrrrriiiiinnnggggg!?!

Johnny GoFast: Hello?

Wifeage: What are you doing?

JGF: Working. Well, that and writing a blog about yesterday.

Wifeage:(Kind of a sighing and groaning noise) About what now?

JGF: I'm writing about how you brought to my attention that I need to change up the routine and train harder if I want to get faster next year. How I was sitting there reflecting on a pretty good cross season and how you did a Jimmy "Superfly" Snuka on me from the third turnbuckle about how I need to work harder to get faster.

Wifeage:(More groaning and now very audible) You asked. Besides and more importantly, don't you worry about how that will make me look? You always make me look like I'm some sort of hard ass.

JGF: I think people see you as the wind beneath my wings. You make me better. That you must be incredibly patient with an incredible sense of humor to put up with me and my shenanigans. I think the women reading this can relate to you because they go through all the same gyrations with their men folk. The men can relate to you because they think all women are slightly nuts and you must be slightly-nutsier to hang out with me.

Wifeage: I think people see me as too harsh on you. And I don't like being referred to on your blog as The Wifeage. Do you know that people come up to me all the time and introduce themselves to me and then call me The Wifeage? These are people I've never met and they seem to know a great deal about me. I'm already the kids Mom...I don't need another anonymous moniker to go by.

JGF: Then Chieko it will be from now on.

Chieko: Not the point! I'm not certain I want to be in your blog at all. It doesn't have to do with how you refer to me. It has to do with how you make me seem.

JGF: Can I blog any of this, because this is really a great conversation.

Wifeage: Arrrgggghhhh!!!!

JGF: And don't give me anymore writers block. Keeping this blog going is difficult enough. If I can't share the inner workings of my mind and my relationship with you to all of my public, I might not have anything else to say.

Wifeage: Hallelujah to that. Besides, Griff hasn't posted anything in like a year.

JGF: My readers demand more.

Wifeage: You're readers need to get a life. What were you going to blog specifically?

JGF: How we were cruising across the San Mateo and more or less rhetorically I wondered aloud what I needed to do to get more competitive and how you started in on me about training more efficiently and trying a different training bloc to get more pop. Of course I'll add the part where I don't get to suck more time up for training than that that I already use. Simple, clean, I think you'd look very supportive.

Wifeage: I can only imagine. E-mail it to me first so I can review it and make sure you aren't making me out to be a battle axe...again.

JGF: Oh that's a strong idea. Maybe you can add to it. Maybe this whole blog thing can become a collaborative effort. I think we'd leave them rolling in the aisles.

Wifeage: I think they'd just leave. E-mail me the thing and I'll let you know if it's safe to post.


And so I did, and she gave it the stamp, and that's the end of the story and my Monday race report for Coyote Point and the season. Hope you are well.

Johnny GoFast with contributing edits by the Wifeage

What the hell was that yesterday? Man blew the whistle and a gun fight broke out. Speeds approaching ballistic out of seemingly everybody. And the first right hander into the sandpit of hell was like some battle scene from Nam. Luckily I snaked through the middle as guys were blowing up on the left and the right. And that was just to get me into the top 25 or so. The good news, of which there's plenty: 1) I stayed upright; 2) I had no issues with the bike; 3) The hip performed admirably and didn't complain when the brain refused to pick up the phone when the hip kept calling repeatedly about the abnormal amount of pain it was enduring; 4) The course, the weather, the family and friends that turned out to see me race was all to the good.

Was hoping for a better spot on the finish line, but can't everyone say that that doesn't win the thing? Hopefully my hip will be a little bit better next Sunday and I have a little more snap to compete. I did get to mix it up with some fast guys throughout the race. Considering that Saturday was the first cross ride I've done in the past two weeks and that I did it only to see if I could manage getting on and off the bike and do the little running required, the fact that I could go it at all on Sunday is great. Little known secret (and one of which I'm not proud of at all), I was on about 800 milligrams of Advil and had a heavy dose of caffeine coursing through my veins. At one point the wifeage even commented on my usually pre-race abnormal behaviour being more abnormal than normal. Before she had finished her sentence I blurted out, "very caffeinated!" Normally I don't result to such measures and it kind of bugs. Anyway, hope you are well.

Johnny GoFast