Buck farty nine

This weekend is my women's sprint triathlon in Wisconsin. I am nervous and excited (more excited than nervous, thankfully). I am sure I can do this, and look forward to a good feeling of triumph and pride as I cross the finish line. Actually, I'm hoping that I like it so much that I'll want to do more (aren't you glad you started this, Stef?!).

I leave Friday afternoon with two fun women, and we'll meet the other two in our party up there (they are coming from Ann Arbor, MI). It's an estrogen-filled weekend with support and encouragement and all that other good girly stuff. I'm looking forward to three days of being just Amy: sprint triathlete, and not Amy: mother, wife, daughter, sister, aunt, cousin, hostess, workerbee, etc. With M traveling so much lately, I need some time to focus on me and my own well-being instead of everyone else's.

Stef, good pookie that she is, sent me a list of race-day items that I need to be sure to pack. The one thing that popped out at me was "crappy flip-flops that you'd be okay with not getting back." While I own no fewer than about six pairs of flip-flops, I like them all and would not be okay with not getting them back. Some cousins recommended Old Navy for cheap flip-flops yesterday at lunch, so on the way home M swung by the one in Crestwood and I ran in. Holy crap. The store had a wall of cheap flip-flops in different colors. So I found a green pair in my size (wasn't hard...they had more green than any other color...I guess green isn't popular) and took them up to the register.

I now own a pair of shoes that cost me $1.49, plus tax. I actually paid cash for them. I never use cash for anything. Can't tell you the last time I paid with anything other than a credit card. Of course, I can't tell you the last time I paid $1.49 for anything, either.

So off I'll go Friday with my expensive Trek bike, my expensive Asics running shoes, my nice workout clothes and sports bras, and my buck-farty-nine flip-flops. I can't wait!