I had to drag Stephanie out of the apartment, after she'd plied herself with much coffee and cigarettes, and a few winghes, (Steph is my foolproof translater, without whom we'd be buggered), and off we pedal to go show off our babies.
I forgot to mention, that when we applied for this marathon, the race I ACTUALLY wanted to enter was booked up (the Japanese - keener than group of trainspotters), so we were forced to join the somewhat easier "treasure hunt". Which still involved quite a bit of cycling don't get me wrong. It just meant you could choose HOW MUCH cycling you wanted do. Like you pick the points closer to the starting point or futher away. Needless to say, our little cluster was a tad closer to the finishing point than that of the other mums and dads. And I literally mean mum's and dad's - there were kids in this flippin race. Shameful. But it was pissing it down. You would have been as relieved as we were that we didn't have to go off on the 50km track!
We did quite well actually. Perhaps this was somehow influenced by Japanese speaking Steph (who has got a BEAST of a bike, beauty, i should probably call her, and was impressing the japanese with all her brake and slide manouvres! ), and we also had a member of staff on our team who was helping us read the Kanji! (the Treasure Hunt was completely in Kanji - you try completing it by yourself with no member of staff!).
I got a bit excited during the ride (it was Merida's first big challenge after all, we were both excited), and i was honking my brand new horn all the way round the track. My friend Emily decided to help solve my problem regarding the death trap that is the Japanese pavements for cyclists (we're not allowed to use the roads. way. ) by buying me a super loud horn to replace my pissy bell that didn't even make a pigeon move. Sadly, this horn is so effective I was almost too afraid to use it for quite a while, for fear of giving one of the grannies a heart attack. Then, one time i did use it, I got such a look of indignency from one of the old grandads, like, how dare I use such a horn and not a sweet little tinkling bell to make you aware of my presence, and he refused to move. Just carried on walking in the middle of the path. Thanks, grandad.
Anyway, it got full and proper use this Sunday. We were the first to finish! (like i said, we had chosen a little cluster closest to the finishing point), and we definitely got points for that. And you know what points make? Prizes!!! Alright! We got a little bag each of random fish paste. Mmmm. Mmmm. And, to top it all off, they were so pleased with themselves about their little Marathon becoming "international" (with the presence of me, Steph and Becky) that they dragged me up on stage to have a little "chat" with me and give me another bag of fish paste and a box of bean paste. (i tell you, the Japanese know how to do treats. seriously.) Of course, i didn't have a clue what they were saying, but fortunately Steph appeared behind me to assist in translating. It was the usual, Do I like Fugu? (that poisonous little blowfish). Do I like Shimonoseki? What do I do? The fugu is obviously a very important question. As the little bags of fish paste were FUGU fish paste. Fortunately for them, me and Fugu are in love, and at the moment are very happy together.
It does worry me that this relationship may be the death of me, too much of a good think in Fugu terms is seriously increasing my chances of death by fish. Only a few people die a year, but my Fugu is faithful, he loves me very much and wouldn't want to see any harm come to me. Fingers crossed eh? Apparently all i have to do is start complaining of a strange feeling in my lower back after eating it, and I will be surrounded by very concerned Japanese fearing for me life.... hi hi hi!
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