His Name Is Balash

His name is Persian, an ancient name, one of a king who did mighty things and took a mighty fall. He isn't like me, yet we are so alike. He is a funny, little man with eyes that capture his undaunting spirit and beauty. I look into his eyes and I see worlds forming. I want to be in those worlds with him.

When I'm not with him, I think of him. When I'm with him, I don't see anyone else. When he wants to treat me like a woman, a place inside me just melts. All the hard steele nuggets of resentment towards men and money, become pools of clear liquid. I love being treated like a woman, by a man, so real to me. When I paid for our last dinner, he begged me not to. Then he said, "This time it is OK. But don't ask to in front of my friends. And don't steal the pleasure from me."

Oh Balash. My Balash. I know you are mine. I can't believe you are mine. I can't wait for us to take our first diving trip together, I can't wait to run beside you, I am so eager to travel the planet in search of adventure with you. I can't wait to edit more of your stories and share literature with you. What a life I desire to have with you...I'll keep it my secret for now.

World Girl

Addendum To Seafair

I just bought a book called, Slow, Fat Triathlete and on the cover has woman about my size, smiling and running along the beach. I laughed so hard at the title and then bought it. The author is a riot. She has me laughing with her, and at myself. She writes that even if a person isn't slow and fat, they can have the mentality that they are. Too, true.

World Girl

Seafair Triathlon

Today was the Seafair Triathlon. I got there a little late, almost forgot my timing chip, but all in all, had a great time. The swim was longer than I remembered it, the bike was a lot shorter and the run was much better. I run with a watch now; it gives me the opportunity to be more constructive with my running. If I need a break, I can actually time it and not spend too much time walking. I would do five minutes on and if I needed it, a minute off. I wouldn't be surprised if I beat my time from last year, despite not being in as great of shape. Mentally, triathlons get easier and easier, and more and more fun. I'm so glad I got into them. Seafair is by far my favorite. Small in numbers, yet really well organized and staffed. It's funny. When I do a triathlon, I wear the same outfit throughout the event. I swim in my bike shorts, sports bra and form fitting sports tank. When I jump out of the water, I throw on my superwool socks, my running shoes, helmet, glasses and I'm off into the biking portion. When I transition into running, I just rack my bike, take off my helmet, grab some goo and go.

Last year, each time I transitioned into the next portion of the race, my legs would wobble under me, trying to get the next group of muscles coordinated and firing. This year, when I got out of the water, my feet landed firmly below me and I sprinted to my bike. Same with the run. Less time, working out the kinks in my calves and tightness in my quads. I think I'm improving, despite not having a rigorous training schedule.

I was also pleasantly surprised by how much I got hit on after the race. Triathletes in general are chatty. It is a great way to meet new people, doing something really fun. But this year, I noticed how much I was being looked at by men. One who was standing in line for a snack after the race looked me up and down, said congratulations, and would it be Ok if he removed a piece of grass from cheek. He moved in close to do it. I wonder if being a triathlete is an aphrodisiac for a certain set of men? Anyway. I enjoyed the attention.

The sun is setting tonight in a wonderful explosion of color. I'm alone, and I notice that I don't want to be. I notice I would like company, and for the company to be male and to be in love with me and for me to be in love with him. Life really is to be shared. I noticed today that a lot of the participants had someone there to cheer them on, or to help park the car, carry the gear and meet them at the finish line. I noticed I did not. I noticed that I keep people away. I didn't invite anyone, but one of my eharmony matches wanted to come see me. I didn't invite him, because I didn't want him to see me like that. Not yet. The cost of being a worrier about my looks, is that I'm alone. Damn.

World Girl