the Monarchs rule

Our basic cable is too basic for ESPN2, so we had to go to "The Grad" to watch the WNBA championship game tonight. Sacramento pulled it off. I'm not a huge basketball fan, but I am a Sacramento Monarchs fan, especially since Utah lost the Starzz to somewhere more deserving, like Texas. I wanted to believe that Salt Lake City was sufficiently cosmopolitan and evolved to sustain a major pro women's sports team--considering that women have been able to vote in Utah since 1870--but as is often the case, two steps forward, three steps back. Just as well though; once I went to a Monarchs vs Starzz game with Celia and her brother Peter (both raised in Sacramento), and I accidentally cheered for the wrong team a few times. Was lucky not to have to walk home afterwards. The demise of the Starzz has possibly helped promote domestic tranquility.

Women have many more opportunities to participate and compete in athletic events these days. In some endurance events (such as ultramarathons) women are highly competitive with, and potentially superior to, their similarly-trained male counterparts. Nobody seems to talk about the fact that it's 2005 and the Tour de France is still all boys all the time, though. Not that I want to sign up for it, but some Katherine Switzer of the cycling world probably does. (If you've never heard of K Switzer click the link to learn about her and the 1967 Boston Marathon.) Since it's been so long since un vrai français actually won the Tour anyway, la gloire du pays doesn't stand to lose much from letting women enter.

As for my training update...fit in an 800-yd swim workout this morning that I found on the internet. Portions of it allegedly involved an object known as a "pull buoy." I believe this to be an object resembling an overgrown styrofoam peanut, which I have oft seen lying at the edge of the pool but never observed in use. Once I attempted to use it I realized that I may need some additional instructions. I tried holding it between my ankles one lap, and between my knees for another lap, so that I could practice with just arms. Both of these laps felt more like a burlap sack race than a swimming practice.

Less than two weeks before the Tri.

I lapsed this evening in my resolve against all things deep-fried. However, I find that if I drink coca-cola with the spicy fries there is less of a grease hangover. Feeling mostly fine.