Iron Weekend

I swam everybody out of the pool this afternoon.

Those of you who know me and my swimming might find that statement odd. But rest assured, there has been no jump in performance and I'm not on performance enhancing drugs (although it would be nice to be suspected at least once in a while).

I swam everybody out of the pool only in the sense that the length of my workout and my ponderous pace ensured that everyone who was there when I arrived had long since gone by the time that I finished.

You see, this is peak ironman training, and this was an Iron Weekend--a weekend where one approximates distances of an Ironman race over a multi-day period.

Right now, it is 90+ degrees outside and a million percent Houston humidity, but I am inside shivering and wearing a sweatshirt after a prodigious ice bath concocted with 40 pounds of ice. (So much is required because the tap in the master bath runs 80+ degrees because of the sun on the side of the house this time of year.)

Other odd behaviors this weekend included consuming an entire box of mac and cheese last night (along with four hot dogs mixed in) and still feeling hungry, consuming more "Boost" in two mornings than a rest home full of geriatrics, and falling asleep -- in a sub 50 degree ice bath.

So, uhm, yeah . . . Mrs. Greyhound is still out of town.

These strange behaviors were prompted by stranger still activities such as 101 miles on the bike in humidity that would drown a tropical fish, 18 miles running this morning through Houston air that smelled like a fish kill, and 4000 yards straight swimming.

I'm not iron ready yet . . . but I can see it from here.



Whiskey? Chocolates? You better believe it.