Erika Csomor's Blog

Excuse me for another story from Miss Coco’s childhood, who was not Miss Coco that time, yet.

We made a sweet picture on the Sunday afternoon promenade: me the half naked girl ( summer -time I refused to wear any top or shoes-no orthotics required so far) take her little brother for a walkabout in the baby carriage. The baby had, of course, proper outfit; a white baby-grow, summer hat and even a sun-umbrella.

Almost everyone stopped to admire the little one, only to look at him and screaming with horror. It was Ball, my puppy dog (never had any bro or sis), a cute Hungarian shepherd dog (named Puli) with long black hair…

He got named Ball not because his skill with balls, but….well, no, he had no any eating disorder. Not fat, let’s say he was “round”.

He did not really mind our show up-only made some disapproval look when I put him on the diapers- as far as him tummy was full.

He was my baby.

Many years later, I was already big girl and went for a training run of 10 miles on a Sunday afternoon. He wanted to come for sure.

I knew he was not in top shape, his only trainings were chasing the cats and the postman. But he really, really wanted to come and I thought: “well, I can give him a chance and a day off for the post man”

So we went. He started out too fast, of course. On the single file trail he ran right front of me shaking his ass. I told him to be reasonable and ordered him back, but he kept passing me only to trip me up. About half way he did not come back anymore. I looked back and saw him jogging and stumbling on his own tongue…it was hot and he got sun stroke within his long black coat.

I dragged him down to the small river, made him drink and pushed him in.

It was a slow home run. We stopped at every while and he laid down in my shade, we arrived home carrying him in my arms.

I would like to say we both learn from the lesson but….he still refused to let me shave him, still emptied his plate, he was training only by chasing the cats and postmen.

Well, he stayed a true age-grouper. It was all right, not every dog should have to be like a greyhound.

I learnt the lessons: always hydrate well, no black coat required, no taking out unfit mates for training.

Ball lived happily ever after, like 16 years long, but I still feeling guilty: I was the Master (Mattress) I should have to know it better…

I am on my road to Kona.

The first station was IM 70.3 triathlon California.

My battle started before the race with some nasty viruses sweeping through California. (This was the prize for that stolen kiss from Brad?!)

I wanted to pull myself together for the race day, so I went for any traditional remediation.

Hungarians are using “palinka” (it is a strong spirit) for almost everything, to kill the viruses.

After the short “shots”, I drank the hot lemon tea with vitamins. Then- as I figured out -for sore and inflammated throat some icing would be great. With great suffer I pushed down some Rocky Road ice creams as well….

On the race morning-despite the controversy remediation- I felt ok, but not ready to emerge into the cold water.

My start was kind of “getwetforhalfanhourandheadoutsoakedwetinthechillymorningwindonthebike”…

On the first 10 minutes of the bike I felt already natural remediation will not help me out after the race. On the first climb I dried up, then I was listening to the wind whistle in my ears…after few minutes I realized it is not the speed but my lungs. My legs had some memories from last year how to tear up those hills, only this time my chasing was not successful: this time, they did not wait for me… L I was tracking 7 strong girls- riding in groups- alone, keeping the 4 minutes that I got in the swim. Actually I was racing all the way alone in no man’s land. Same with the run: I had good legs only not getting closer to the leaders. Luckily I picked up some victims. Usually I could do the math: Take your position after T2, divide by two, and voila: you get your finisher position….So I ended up being 4^th, 3 and half minutes from the winner Mirinda Carfrae. Not that bad, but good for nothing….

This year, like every year after the Olympics, is seeing a great invasion: hordes of talented and speedy ITU athletes are shifting for the longer distances. We, the old ones are supposed to show the exit door for them, but some pushy ones still made the entry…L

There was a hell of “after party” : million devils lit a fire in my body. This time I went for the antibiotics, only kept the Rocky Road as a side medication with no side effect so far…

2009 is my Rocky Road to Kona. I hit on 19…