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Going short or long?!

I wonder if anyone wonder- where Miss Coco disappeared, imagine a little cirrus cloud up in the blue sky, that is me now: going nowhere, worrying of nothing, just hanging out with a permanent sheepish grin on my face.

I spent two shorty camps in Tunesia and Croatia with my Hungarian kids (my Hungarian team), where my only goal was surviving them. I mean the kids.

Oh well, in those two years that I spent traveling and training along with Team TBB those cute little kids grew up. Physically…

The transformation like a storm left behind messy heads and testosterone driven body all equipped with the obligatory 6 packs…

10 minutes before we start the running session they knock on my door, they stand on my doormat all in underwear and sporting a worry look on their face (FAKE!): “Mom, what we should have to wear- long or short?!”

When Erika going mad on the front, they know exactly how to get me unfocused, a slight but way too long touch or comment on my butt and I am completely losing concentration.

It is all about diversion and I am easy to get diverted.

On the latest days I finally beat up one of them.

It happened right after swimming, when I was the last to leave the pool (the only one who never cheats down the cool down). We had hot showers all along the wall, only one less than we are. They tend to sit under the hot shower for hours and not being polite to offer it and I do NOT share so…..well, there were two of us and one empty shower. Just a quick glance at each-others and we started sprinting to get it first!

All of our boys are a light built climbers except one ( this one) who actually should have to be removed and sent to being rugby player.

He is quick. And mean. He could win it easy but he went for sure: he cut my way alongside the slippery pool deck and wanted to push me back into the water. I had my towel with me so I was determined not to get wet, I pulled the emergency break only to landing and sliding on my butt, slightly straining my ankle. At this point he tried to grab me-only to landing on my top. I got so mad thinking of the idea to get injured and spoil this season that hissing like a Furia, I started to beat him up, first with bare hands (left hook, straight right) only to realize it is hurt, so I continued with the slipper and the paddles he dropped.

(Geee….the kids are showering with their tools because we swam in salty water, they are so caring about their toys, so charming)

Ok, I only stopped because I ran out of hissing (air) and tryed to contain my prestige.

Honestly, I never hit anyone since the kindergarten.

Time has come when the little cirrus cloud gets a bit stormy…

Next day, we swam next to each other -owning the whole pool. The task was few times 200 meters drills, side touching (high elbow). I was happy like a puppy dog to be able to swim with them, when at the wall in the break one boy from the furthest side surfaced like a submarine and shyly whispered into my ears: “Erika, you are supposed to touch your side!”-then the submarine went back into his lane. Oh well, the coach never correct my doings, knowing Erika has her Team TBB ways, like hamstring tearing big gears and swimming with straight arms. The little fellow was only convinced I did not hear the instruction, so discretely he corrected me out. He paid attention to my VERY touchy feelings not liking being corrected front of others. Charming….

We closed the camp with a season opening road cycling race.

My goal was working on the anaerobic zone, pushing over the threshold, what was just what happened on the 1km climb in every lap. I maximized my heart rate at 174 RPM, what is the first time in two years I could pump my huge diesel heart over 170….

Acid was pouring even from my ears. I got dropped from the front elite male group at 60 km/h in a corner….soloing between two huge groups alone for a while. I was told it is not a TT riding, then the coach pulled next to me and encouraged to bridge over the gap alone and join to the front group….. sweet advise. I did not take it, but I waited for the second grupetto with the second placed girl and finishing the ride in aerobic zone for a nice change, then on the last hill we sprinted for the winning. No more mistake this time!

Well, small wind for this little cirrus cloud, all happy, shaping nicely to be one day no less than a hurrican called Coco..

May the wind blow from your back side and dry up your sweet sweats…

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