The Universe Must Hate Me

I think I have done something terrible, well actually horrible. Last night, while I was talking with my sister in Taiwan, I was also chatting on and off with a friend. Now this friend is a pretty talented and funny guy who also is also dedicated to his life as an amateur triathlete. While chatting with him, he sent a link to a triathlon on July 11, 2009 and told me to do it (I am paraphrasing here). I laughed out loud at the thought, because I have been pretty adamant about not running again (see the Bear Creek Trail story—though this is more of an excuse than a reason these days). I have really no desire to get up at the crack-o-dawn at cock-a-doddle-do hour and swim in freakin cold H2O, bike 14 miles, and then run 3.X miles in what I can only imagine would take me three hours.

ANYHOW, the point was I laughed out loud at the suggestion, and my sister heard me. I told her why I laughed, at which point she proceeded to not only try to talk me into doing it, but telling me I should. After laughing back and forth about it and telling her there was pretty much no way I would be doing it, she wouldn’t give up.

So, I proposed a deal. Without looking at the calendar I told her that if it was on a Saturday and not a Sunday, I would do it. NOW, I knew this was a very very safe deal to make since pretty much every event of this type is held on Sundays. The chance of it being a Saturday event was like .0000000000000001% of .00000000000001%.

You can guess, without looking, what day of the week July 11, 2009 is…Yup, a Saturday.