And I would ride 1,000 miles...

Relatively recent life highlights:

* A few weeks ago I entered a doubles tennis tournament with my team teacher, Paul. We won second place, the prize for which was a trophy with a gold painted guy serving and a placard that says "A Doubles Finalist." So hurray for us - we were finalists! There were three teams in the tournament.

* I finally hit 1,000 miles on my bike. This was, as you may recall, one of my unmet goals before moving from Redwood City. I was at around 940 or so miles at that point, which shows you how much I've ridden my bike since I moved down to Huntington Beach. I hit the 1,000 mile mark with, well, Mark, as we made our way through city after city on PCH riding north from San Diego. When I saw the 999 change to 1000, I raised one hand in the air and yelled, "One thousand miles!!!" and then promptly went back to huffing and puffing again. A few miles later, my out-of-shape legs resisting my brain's attempt to make them move in a pedal-like fashion, I fell off my bike. The cause? Hitting Mark's bike from behind because I overestimated his take-off speed from a signal, thus making Mark and my mom the only two people I've rear-ended (on the road).