Day One

Today is day one.

Nope. Not day one of the new administration getting to work.

It is day one of Trigreyhound 4.0, a version that the developers say will be better, faster, and more powerful. But there's nothing like "day one" of a new project to make you feel like you've got your work cut out for you. Your desired result is "here" . . . . and you . . . . . are waaaaaaaaay . . . . . . . .





over . . . . .








. . . . wait for it . . .







here.


Athletic? Funny? Intelligent? Not. So. Much.

Like today--the first day back in the pool. It didn't feel as foreign as the first day of grown up swim lessons four years ago, but I sure didn't start out feeling fishlike. Skinny chick pace girl even haunted the swim because everything still hurt so much. But, I committed to an hour in the water, and an hour is what I did. Then, I ingored the sweet, smokey smell of bacon, and instead of the breakfast tacos I so wanted to consume, I opted for two cups of Trigreyhound's Miracle Museli (TM). (Go ahead, ask for the recipe). There will be no skimping on nutrition this time.

At least on day one.

There are all kinds of new things I'll be rolling out over the next couple of weeks to help make that journey. And I hope to be blogging all the way through to entertain you as well as myself. In the mean time, time will tell whether version 4.0 will have the hip design and ease of use of a Mac, or whether it runs like a pirated Vista knock-off. We'll know on November 29, the day of the Big Dance, Ironman Cozumel. As painful as that last marathon was, my next marathon will include a weeeee bit of a warmup act.

Sleeping Superstar

Nine hours. That was my goal, and I made it.

Not my Ironman goal. Gawd no. That kind of time will never happen without the aid of a motor launch and an internal combustion engine.

Not my HIM goal. Even I can go a bit quicker than that.

It was my sleep goal. I slept nine hourse in a row last night. Nine hours on the Tempurpedic including lazy dozing this morning. I even went to sleep earlier than Superpounce, who is only nine. Yay me.

I may have had a bit of an overtraining habit in the past. Um, yeah. Just a bit. Henceforth, I will continue hard training, but in training I am a mere pauper. I am going to make myself the king of recovery. I will never be the fastest nor the strongest, but when it comes to resting and absorbing training, all others shall be pretenders to my throne, mere usurpers.

I will fuel properly after training. I will hit my vitamins. I will ice bath after the key run/bike sessions. I will nap on the weekends. I will make sleep an olympic event. I will rule recoveryland.

Actually, I'd be very interested to hear from experienced Iron athletes out there what you do to ensure and enhance recovery. Put your collective wisdom in the comments.

Heaven.On.Earth.

The clouds started to roll in during the last portion of the bike in my bike/run brick. Wind kicked up as well. Temperature alternated between subtropical swelter and the cool that was still mostly hidden behind the front.

The rain started just as I went out on the run. not the hot misting rain we usually get on summer afternoons. That type of rain only makes things hotter, stickier and more miserable. These were heavy cold drops that promised relief.

Rank after rank of black clouds marched across the sky, never quite living up to it's full potential, until this afternoon, when everything in the house had come to a stop. Thuder pealed and it rained hard for two hours--during which time I was drugged by the leftover endorphins and the lullaby of water pouring down off the house.

I slept.

During the dayling.

For two hours.

Heaven.On.Earth.

Limits

I borrowed this from another blogger, but it's such a great picture I couldn't resist. It also sums up my feelings of late.

I did not feel like I'd been destroyed by my 150 mile ride--at least that's what I thought. I ran a couple of snappy workouts this week, but I felt sleepy all the time. Now, even after a nice casual ride with MisheleK, a quadruple-iron training partner, I ache walking down stairs. Time to taper?? Um, yeah.

It would seem we all have our limits.

Another type of limit was reached on Friday night. I arrived home after a decent swim to find both women in the dog pound upstairs watching a movie.

Actually watching a miniseries--the BBC version of Pride and Prejudice.

Now, I may wear a bow tie to work, and I may shave places that most men don't, but darn it, I'm a man, and I have limits. To quote that great philosopher, Popeye, "that's alls I can stands, and I can't stands no more."

Rather than risk atrophy to my "package" or having it confiscated altogether, I elected to leave them to their chick flick. I did what any self-respecting man's man would do.

I went to sleep by nine.