Today was a tough day. We had a killer paddling practice, then an intense circuit, followed by a fast and furious drive home to a funeral.
"We need to RUN out of here at noon" G mouthed at me across the circuit room.
"Yeah, I know"... I was bumming because that meant no hang time with my bethrothed, who is leaving on a lengthy-for-my-lovestruck-heart trip, but you do what you have to do.
We finished the circuit, said our hurried goodbyes (left our teammates to clean up the circuit equipment), and booked it from the gym. We'd made our plan on the way up... G would drive to the border while I changed into funeral-appropriate attire; and then I would drive from the border while G changed.
First, we ate. My egg salad stunk up the car before i even unscrewed the container. Our stomachs growled audibly. I smashed it between the two slices of bread and took a bite that I think demolished at least half the entire sandwich. Oh it was goooood!
"Holy shit, you INHALED that sandwich!" I'm not sure if G was impressed with me or sickened.
"Dude!! I was HUNGRY!"
Sandwich. Apple. Ghirardelli mint chocolate square. Heaven.
Now, to get out of my nasty, stinky, wet workout clothes and into something a little more civilized. I reached around the back of my seat, into my gym bag, and pulled out my bra and underpants. Off came my jacket, under which I was completely naked, and approached the challenge of a) hooking my bra behind my back (tough when every muscle is screaming in objection) and b) positioning myself in such a way as to not "show my wares" to passing cars.
We started passing a car on the left. I ducked down. Still couldn't hook the damn thing. Passed another, ducked again. Still no luck hooking (haha i know what you're thinking) and G starts chortling.
"See that SUV in front of us? I think the driver is a bit distracted. I think he's looking in his rear view mirror a LOT." Good for him. Hopefully he doesn't plow into the guard rail. Meanwhile, still can't hook stupid bra.
"Screw this. I'm doing it the old fashioned way." I take the thing off, flip it around and upside down, hook it in front, shift it back, shove my arms through the straps and adjust. Fait accomplis! Hoo-freakin-ray! I sit up, relieved as all heck and stretch out the cramp in my neck.
Too bad the bra's color is exactly the same shade as my still-otherwise-naked upper half. I quickly realize why the drivers of the cars we're passing are doing double takes at us. But I can't do much about it because G is making me laugh so hard that my aching abs can't take the pain anymore. We start going through role-plays of coming up to the border checkpoint.
"Hi sir. Yes we were at dragonboat practice."
"Why is your passenger naked?"
"Because she can't get her arms behind her back."
We collapse in fits of giggles. And on it goes... you get the idea.
I get the shirt on, then it's time for the lower half. Off come the lycra tights, on go the undies. Then the pants. No mean feat for a giant in a short-person's car. Even with the seat pushed all the way back and reclined. Try it sometime.
It's been such an endeavor I decided to attack makeup next, and leave my feet for last.
"Don't pull any bullshit now," I warn G, who is prone to slamming on the brakes at the most inconvenient-for-me times just to amuse herself.
"Don't worry, I won't do anything when you are doing your eyes. But lipstick, well, no guarantees there."
What's that word she taught me? ah yes.. "chocheta!"
I manage to make myself look presentable, mouth included, just as we get to the border. Ok, time for my feet. There are two lanes open. We get in the left lane, and advance. G decides to do the whiplash thing. I could seriously smack her. Why am I thinking about it, I ask myself, and punch her in the arm. She's not phased at all. Were she not driving I might have considered a throat punch. But as it was...
I put my right foot on the dash, hike up my pant leg, and pull on a knee sock (I'm gonna be wearing tall boots). What does my traveling idiot do? Gestures to the guy in the car next to us, points to my leg and starts mouthing "sexxxxxy leg!" ARGH!! I punch her again. She of course, is trying not to pee herself with laughter. What's that saying about laughing at your own jokes??? :)
We get up to the checkpoint, I look great and she looks like sweaty crap, we make small talk with the guard and are waved on through. We pull over and Part 2 of the Changing Game begins.
I have to move the driver's seat back, a LOT. G gets into the passenger seat and comments how spacious it is. "It's like an entire bedroom. Wow, you're big." She's trying to get her underpants on now.. and I collapse in fits of giggles as I envision this car being on an episode of CSI where they fingerprint the car and discover two different butt imprints on the passenger seat.
2 minutes later: "How come you, a giant, were able to change so quickly, and I can't?" Envision: G's ass is in the windshield, her head up by the sun roof, and she's trying desperately to adjust her clothes on her increasingly sweaty-from-the-stress-of-it body. I of course decide this is the perfect time to slam on the brakes of this zippy little Cadillac. Hot damn!
Blah blah blah... fast forward.... and get in a sober mood. Because we are pulling into the parking lot of a little church, parking the car, and making our way inside to say goodbye to a friend.
This friend was a member of our mother organization, the one where we started this whole paddling adventure. D was one who had made a deep impression on us - a kind, generous, giving soul who ALWAYS asked us how our training was going and was TRULY interested in the answer. I remember him getting on my boat and not wanting to get off. When I first started coaching and steering, he and his wife were always there, paddling their hearts out. When I challenged the crews to start training for the insane-sounding 20K race... he was always one of the first to show up with a huge smile on his face. (Did I mention this man was nearing 70 at the time?) He did double practices, helped out with the boats, always up for whatever needed doing and ALWAYS ALWAYS had a good word and a smile. Until I read his obituary this week I had no idea just how incredible this man truly was. And then today, hearing so many stories at his memorial service.. well, I cried for the loss. Because the story is tragic. D and his wife were traveling from VT to ME to visit family. Just a few miles from their destination, D succumbed to fatigue, nodded off, was awakened when his car hit the rumble strip, over-corrected, and crashed. His injuries would be fatal, while his wife would survive. Dear mother help me understand this one. Though the story is tragic, the lesson is magic. D's legacy is this: love deeply; give selflessly; talk to strangers; take a gazillion photographs; give blood; connect with your community and; wear silly hats.
R.I.P. D - you will be very very missed.
