Brian, Brian, Brian

i have three Brian's in my life...Coach Brian, best friend Brian and creepy roommate Brian. here is my tribute to them - in all the glory of the first two and the utter ickiness of the latter :)


Sunday promised to be a day of pain. CB had emailed earlier in the week to ask if i would like him to come down from LA to coach me through my final long run of the season before my very first half ironman race. i laughed and said "like that's even a question!" of course i want him to come down and administer a serious ass whoopin - we all know i am an avid glutton for punishment and take pride in subjecting myself to physical discomfort. so we determined a meeting time and place where the torture would commence and conclude - all in a two hour time period. i invited a slew of people to partake in the misery that was sure to come but only best friend Brian, who we will refer to from here on out as BG, and Ryan took the bait and agreed to the morning's 13 miler. the plan was to meet at the cove at 11 AM and CB would ride behind us on his trusty steed, cracking the whip and calling out interval times and pace goals. OMG did it hurt. i was still feeling the effects of the previous day's malaise, coupled with the knowledge that this day was about to get a whole lot more interesting with the interval training CB had on the agenda. we started out with an easy enough warm up pace of 10 min miles, CB right beside me - keeping me steady so i didn't jack rabbit or short myself the speed needed to awaken my running legs. then it slowly started to descend from there and not in a good way - one mile at 930 min pace, recovery, one mile at 9 min pace, recovery, one mile at 830 pace - which by the way hurt like a mother effer AFTER it was done. i really didn't think it was all that difficult until CB hollered "RECOVERY" and i immediately and gratefully brought it back down to 10 min mile pace and that's when i noticed the complete exhaustion take over - "are we done yet?!" hell no i was told. this is a pyramid - a pyramid of death if you will. it was time to take it back up - one mile at 9 min pace, recovery, one mile at 930 min pace, recovery, last couple of miles at 8 min pace to end with a 640 min pace to the finish line. OUCH! holly hell - OUCH! but OUCH! in a kick ass, i just did 13 miles of intervals in the heat of the day. i dropped BG in the dust ;) (he was nice enough to run my last round of intervals with me and i still dropped him without a second thought. i'm a training bitch - i know it and its not likely to change. he knows this and is still my best friend. amazing) and i could have still kept going if i really had to. all of this led to a huge inner confidence spike that made me feel like the race ahead was totally do-able. totally in my realm of accomplishments. totally ready to kick ass and take names. totally. it was so fantastic to have CB there - pushing me, pacing me, encouraging me and telling me how good i was. if that's not a great coach, i don't know what is. let's not forget here kids that when i first started training with this random dude i had met off my blog in a very unforeseen fashion, i was clocking 10 mph average on the bike. today?! today i am at a lightning fast speed of 20.6 mph average on the bike and that's a time trial verdict in the wind tunnel of Hades out on the Strand of Coronado where the wind is sometimes so strong that it has been known to pick up unsuspecting pedestrians and fling them into the fiery pits of burning hot lava below where the land sharks feast...so my point? Brian Melekian is a bad ass son of a gun who just so happens to be the best coach around and DOES NOT charge and arm and a leg for his services - and in this sport we call tri, that's a big deal seeing as how you most definitely need all four appendages at any given moment during a race for optimum performance ;)



BG, or best friend Brian, has been hands down my rock since the demise of my two year relationship and the trauma that ultimately ensued due to it all. and by trauma i mean the crying and the screaming and the questioning and the remembering and the hating and the hurting and most of all - the pure and utter heartbreak it has caused. i'm sorry and sort of ashamed to admit that it's effects are still lingering and quite frankly i don't know when they will go away. but BG, oh how BG has been there through it all - from hugging me while i cry uncontrollably, to listening to me bitch and complain about seeing the ex and his new girlfriend (i guess she's not new anymore - nor was she ever really new since this little thing had been in development for the better part of a year unbeknownst to the two of them - i was privy and i gave warning, but alas - here i am and there they are), to letting me stay the night on the couch whenever i want without question, to letting me do laundry every weekend so i don't have to go to the dirty laundry mat by myself. he has seen me at my damn near worst - the really shitty, selfish, self centered, bratty, judgemental bitchy side of me. he knows some of my darkest secrets and the sometimes obscene thoughts that run through my mind at the most inopportune moments. he lets me be sad about my brother, frustrated about things going on at work and down right grumpy when i haven't had enough sleep and am stressed to the hilt. and you know what?! he still loves me and tells me i'm a good person. he has been my rock - my go to when the swells gets really tough and even my go to when the waters are a lot less choppy. i honestly can't say how much his friendship means to me and the fact that through it all, even at my worst, he can honestly tell me he loves me and mean it.


now onto creepy roommate Brian or creeper as i fondly refer to him in social settings. he's dirty, he's smelly, he's unsophisticated in the worst ways. he walks around in his boxer briefs with his fat belly protruding over the waistband and jiggling as if it were dancing to the disgusting song of his horrid voice. he has done many creepy things, the worst of which occurred when my mom was in town for my marathon in June. i don't want to get into it now - those of you who know me on a daily basis have heard the story, more than once i'm sure - suffice it to say the incident in question would instantly give you the heeby jeebies. all of this and he has the nerve to write me a drunk manic depressive note, giving me orders and rules to follow while "i'm living under his roof" and in that same sham of a letter he went on to say i am the best roommate he's ever had. ha. haha. hahahhaha hahahhahaha. right. that went over real well. let's just say i put him in his place and it was not in a "politically correct" manner of terms. i received an apology and all was back to normal - the dirty stinky habits of a lifeless drunk who smokes and parties on DWI charges and then spends the day playing video games to occupy his boredom with life in general. winner. i have put up with all of this shit going on 5 or so months now only to find out he is letting his deadbeat parents move into the apartment with him and i, in return must move out. are you mother effing kidding me?! when does this shit end. i am 27 damn years old. i have a degree for Christ's sake albeit its a writing degree, but a degree nonetheless from a nationally ranked University of esteem! SO HEAR THIS - I WILL BE INDEPENDENTLY RICH COME THIS TIME NEXT YEAR. I WILL BE LIVING ON MY OWN QUITE SUCCESSFULLY HAVE YOU, LIVING AND TRAINING THE WAY I DEEM WORTHY AND I WILL LOVE EVERY SINGLE, SOLITARY MOMENT OF IT, and creeper and his antics will be a distant past...oh and while we're at - so will pj and every single memory i have of him.


I WILL RISE ABOVE, I WILL ACCOMPLISH MY GOALS AND I WILL LIVE MY DREAM - all in due time. get ready kids this train is a comin' and its slowing down for no one...except for me that is ;)