I participated in the eating of a full, three-week old pig at a Culver City restaurant last night. Though I'm not sure what was more disturbing: Eating the different parts of the intact beast or how tired I was by 10 p.m. after a beer and a glass of wine.
This sport saps the life out of me sometimes. There are certain moments where my body just seems to shut down and go into the equivalent of "hibernation" mode on a computer. Like right in the middle of a dinner. This sucks, because it's not like I go out all often with my training schedule. When I do, expect to be able to stay awake and rally.
By the time I got home at midnight, the last thing I could think about doing was blogging. Though I did consider it, staring at my laptop, which peered back at me with its single battery light blinking back at me.
I felt guilty for not writing. I felt guilty for not being able to quite keep up with my friends at the dinner.
Triathlon makes me physically healthier, but sometimes with a sacrifice that's too great to make. And yet with another month of peak training, this is what I must get used to: Rise, train, race to work, work, race to train, train, quality time with Stephanie, blog, sleep.
Where's the room for friends? Where's the room for socializing?
The kicker is that today's an off-day from training. And instead of going out tonight, all I can think about is a quiet night at home. Just me and the DVR.
I ask my body to do a lot. Right now, my body is asking for return favors. Rest.
51 days and counting.