Excuses, excuses

In the last 5 years of doing tris, I've always found a good excuse to avoid a swim, a run, or turn a brick into a solid bike ride (and ditch the run). I swore that with IM Moo looming in the distance (albeit far distance), my goal was to stick to the plan. To assist these efforts, I even started paying someone to reinforce the Catholic guilt that I have for missing a workout (thanks Coach K).

I was actually doing pretty well for a few months. November & December brought about the most consistent training that I've ever had. Yes, this includes swimming. (No, the snowstorm-induced pool closure doesn't count as skipping). Jan was a bit tougher due to a hip injury, but I was hanging in there and damn proud of it.

Then I discovered the best excuse ever for just...stopping altogether. This excuse came in the form of orders to Iraq. I can see myself running in 120 degrees and sandstorms. I may even be able to go to a spinning class once or twice a week. But swimming is out of the question. And I don't get back till after Moo.

Boo.

I'm sad that I won't get to share the training trials & tribulations of my good tri club friends, and even more upset about not sharing that amazing day on the 10th anniversary of 9/11 with them. I was looking forward to doing one of the toughest things I could imagine to remember that day; but maybe I will be, just not as initially imagined.

Well, after several weeks "off," several lbs on, the excuses are over. Started today with a wake-up call of a tough hike up the Manitou Springs Incline and remembered why I love working out to begin with. No more excuses. For now, anyway.

Baby germs (8)

This week I learned that vicious baby germs are no match for the finely tuned immune system that I've been working so hard to build up over the past few years.

My niece turned one this weekend, and she's so stinking cute that it's hard to put it into words, so I obviously went down to NC to see her. I have access to the YMCA when I'm out of town (it's so glorious!) so I was also going to kick it with the Raleigh Y people. It was going to be a grand weekend. And a grand weekend it was.

However, Sat night, my throat started hurting. I did what I usually do when I start to feel sick: IGNORED IT and kept doing my workouts. This works, I'd say 9 times out of 10, and that's actually a pretty decent record. But this time, by Wed morning, I felt like I had been hit by a train. I ended up at the drs worried I had caught strep, that had been floating around Raleigh. Thankfully, it was just a bug, but the dr informed me that I hadn't been in there since 2007.

Hmmm...2007. That's the first year I started doing triathlons. Coincidence? #ithinknot

A smile is a smile (7)

I found myself smiling today, 8.5 miles into a run, with another mile of serious hills to go before I could stretch, take a warm shower, and finally eat breakfast. I couldn't tell if I was sort of laughing at the ridiculousness of what I was doing - I mean, it was freezing out, my face was numb, my hips were screaming, and for the last 40 minutes I had been heading straight into a gnarly headwind. Or if I was I laughing at the insanity of what lays ahead for me this summer, when a 90 minute run will be nothing- 90 minutes will be an off week. Or could it be that I was actually enjoying myself?

Regardless, a smile is a smile and a run is a run and I did both before most people had their first cup of coffee this morning.

Everything hurts. (6)

This seems to be a recurring theme. Lesson: lots of things that seem fun at the time result in varying degress of pain and inability to move very fast later. Not that there's anything wrong with that...especially if you can sit around on Sunday afternoons.

Yesterday we did the 100 push up challenge. Not as hard as it sounds. We also, over the course of an hour, did 200 squats and 200 crunches, in addition to several other strength building exercises. This was followed by an endurance brunch, where only the strong hung on to the bitter end. We got more than our money's worth of bottomless mimosas. Ridiculousness ensued.

For the record, I'm mostly blaming Rob for my current state, and not factoring the bottomless mimosas into the equation.