All posts by stacy

Water-Logged

Where's Walrus? I'm fierce and fearless in my pink swim cap.

We’ve been through this before, but it bears repeating: There is no black line on the bottom of the ocean… nor is there one on the bottom of Tempe Town Lake. Most importantly, there isn’t a push-off wall every 25 meters to give my arms a little breather.

There is merely a series of buoys that I have to circumnavigate, swimming shrink-wrapped in a steel-belted radial and dodging a chorus line of heels and hands. Under water, you can’t see them, but you can feel them – in the champagne remnants of their efforts and the thud of their heels hitting your forehead, or worse, when their hands come up from behind, across your heels and hands, like a giant squid pulling you down to the 14-foot depths of a man-made lake.

Continue reading Water-Logged

Lake Water

The Placid and Frigid Waters of Rattlesnake Cove

After my open-water adventures in the post-tsunami Pacific went so swimmingly, I decided to enroll in a local, lake-swim clinic to get ready for my forthcoming triathlon. It was being held at Bartlett Lake – not too far from my house – and it was free, which has a special appeal since apparently triathlon is a sport that involves a fetish for investing heavily in precious technology.

Continue reading Lake Water

Open Water

Good morning, Malibu
51 degrees in the tsunami aftermath: Great day for an ocean swim!

I stood on a cliff overlooking the Pacific Ocean. Inside, the blow-dried, TV talking-heads on L.A.’s news leader blared breathless accounts of a pending tsunami, destined to swamp the Southland at any moment. To their unconcealed disappointment the Breaking News Event didn’t happen: Outside, it wasn’t different than any other sunny Southern California morning. Waves crashed on the rocks. Seagulls squawked overhead. Sunlight warmed the horizon. Tomorrow I would be swimming in that ocean, in the aftermath of a tsunami thousands of miles away.

In February, I agreed to be the swimmer for my friend Kristi’s triathlon team. 1500 meters in Tempe Town Lake. I have never claimed to be a fast swimmer – but I am a strong swimmer. I can cross great distances without tiring, probably because I’m so slow. Wanting to be a good partner to Kristi’s significant fitness, I signed up for an ocean swim lesson, taught by Brett Sanson of Zuma Surf and Swim Training. He has more than 20 years experience as a swim instructor and lifeguard on Zuma Beach in Malibu.

Brett is that good: He taught me how to swim in the Pacific Ocean.

Continue reading Open Water

Feel My Wrath, Teenage Wasteland!

I need a paintball gun (with ammo) so I can hurt, but not permanently disfigure, a kid – not a little kid being an adorable knucklehead, mind you… a teenager.

A pimply faced 14-year-old teenager whose only life goals right now are scoring porn to relieve his carnal urges (it’ll fall off if you keep doing that!) … and wreaking havoc  on other people’s property.

On our morning run, the husband and I witnessed this habitual onanist loitering on a curb with his equally sinful comrades as they waited for a bus to take them to a school that my taxpayer dollars fund (and I will never use). As we were jogging along, our nation’s future swaggered out into the middle of our peaceful suburban street and deposited a Dr. Pepper can on the yellow lines.

“DUDE, DON’T LITTER! PICK IT UP! I SAW YOU PUT THAT CAN IN THE STREET AND IT’S GONNA GET ALL OVER SOMEONE’S CAR!”

“IT’S NOT FULL,” he whined (like he’d just been busted by his Mom in the bathroom, “I wasn’t doing anything.”)

“DOESN’T MATTER – YOU’RE STILL A LITTERBUG. PICK IT UP!”

He made some motions toward the can and made some faces toward me – accompanied by some one-fingered salutes and some choice words referring to me as a “bat-shit crazy old lady.” It is a badge I now wear with honor as I approach my 40th birthday – though I can’t say if said knuckle-dragger actually did pick up the can because we still had 20 minutes to go and were already running late and there were three of them and just two of us, though I can say that my MOST EPIC REVENGE FANTASY EVER did fuel the second half of my run… until I got side stitches and slowed down. 

Read on… unless you believe “What about the children?” is a reasonable thing to ask of any politician…

Continue reading Feel My Wrath, Teenage Wasteland!

Krewe of Helios-Arizona IX, 03.05.11

Yes, you’re still our friends… and no, you didn’t offend us when you threw up in the gumbo pot… and honestly, you didn’t get blacklisted when you sparked our first-ever police visit for your awesome (illegal) parking job… and it’s OK, really, our friend the paramedic didn’t mind resuscitating you after you licked the hottest substance known to mankind – and hey, at least you didn’t have to go to the emergency room.

So, no, don’t worry: you didn’t miss THE NINTH ANNUAL KREWE OF HELIOS-ARIZONA MARDI GRAS PARADE AND PARTY.

Mardi Gras is late this year – Fat Tuesday is March 8 – which means our annual parade of Louisiana goodness and gluttony rolls at 4 PM on Saturday, March 5, 2011.

Continue reading Krewe of Helios-Arizona IX, 03.05.11