Shot in the Arm

This morning, I may have hit my low point in Ironman training.  I couldn't get out of bed in time for my Tuesday morning ride.  It was supposed to rain, which provided the perfect excuse to sleep in a little longer. Plus, last night's massage had left me in a rather tranquil mental state as well. Still, I needed to cram in a nearly two-hour ride before work.  This required me to ride on the trainer. I can't decide which is worse: Swimming endless laps in a pool, running on a hilly trail on a hot day by yourself without enough hydration, or riding for more than an hour on a bike trainer.

When you do all three in the span of a few days, it can cause you to go a little batty.  The sweat was literally forming little pools on my floor.  Shredded tire peeled away by the trainer floating in the salty water.  Finally, I had to pry the drenched technical shirt off my back just to feel like a normal human being again.  It was just one of those "What the hell am I doing to myself?!" kind of moments.  Which, as you've seen lately, I've had more and more of lately.

And instead of basking in the accomplishment of completing the workout, all I could think about was tonight's swim and how much I didn't want to attend.  I was so over it!  And yet I have a month and a half to go still.

Fortunately, I remembered my Muse mantra in the car on the way home from work, an hour before the swim.

They will not force us!

They will not control us!

We will be victorious!

The song, Uprising, totally picked me up.  I remembered that this is all a choice. Sometimes, a tough choice.  But a choice nonetheless.

I arrived to the pool reinvigorated.  Ready to swim.  Despite the crisp evening chill and scant raindrops.  The swim was a fairly intense one, with three sets of alternating 500s, 400s and 500s and a timed 100 to conclude the workout.  If my mental state had been worse, there's no way I would have matched my 100 PR time of 1:22.  Even Coach Gerardo commented that I had a breakthrough in my stroke, lifting my  left arm higher out of the water and gliding through the stroke longer.  He's confident I can lower my 100 time further if I continue to hone my technique.

And to think this workout almost didn't happen.

Every day I have to find a new way to motivate myself right now.  Today it was music.  Who knows what it will be tomorrow.

45 days and counting.

Ray to the Rescue

I haven't done a lot of cycling where the temperature matches and exceeds my cadence...when I'm pedaling flat or downhill. But that's what happened when LA Tri Clubber Cheryl pointed out that her computer watch indicated 104 degrees around 11:30 a.m. this morning on our approximately 60-mile ride from Agoura to Newbury Park and back.

Picture having a blow-driver blast you with hot air for 3.5 hours.  That's how our ride felt.  Shade was definitely our friend today during every rest stop -- which there were more of than usual.

Fortunately, we had none other than our dog-bark impersonating, recently USAT-certified coach, Ray, saving the day.  He drove a badly needed sag vehicle all over the Conejo Valley, keeping us hydrated with drinks paid for from his own pocket and entertained, as always.  Of course, Ray being the nice guy that he is, wouldn't even accept the contributions cup we offered him in return for going so far out of his way. On top of all that, Ray even found time to shoot some video of us in our various forms of agony or glory, depending on the time of day and the level of fluid in our water bottles. (You'll have to be Ray's buddy on Facebook to see them though!)

I fared well on the ride, especially since I had my road bike to everyone else's tri bikes.  I started to cramp around the last mile of the ride, using my elbows to power my legs up a final climb so I wouldn't over-exert with my hamstrings and quads.  I made it back to basecamp off Agoura Road and Las Virgenes without incident.

Perhaps the best part about today's ride is that I can finally put to bed my bonk-fest with Christina last month riding the Colnago.  Clearly that was a fluke.  We rode longer today, in much hotter conditions, and still managed some decent climbing.

Following the ride and a much-needed refueling session with the Fortius gang, I drew a cold bath at home and soaked with Epsom salt after icing my legs with frozen vegetable bags.  Then, it was nap time for nearly 1.5 hours.

Now that's what I recall a nice recovery.  My legs feel fairly fresh and I have no dehydration-related headache to report.  Which is good, because tomorrow morning Ray will be leading us on a 12-14 mile run through the Bulldog trail at Malibu Creek State Park -- near where the TV show M.A.S.H. was filmed many years ago.

There are days when I'm torn between being thrilled at having the opportunity to train to peak physical condition, and wondering what the hell I'm doing to myself.  Do you ever feel the same way? Seriously, it's Labor Day Weekend.  I should be sleeping in, lounging around at the beach, and sipping cocktails watching the sunset.  Instead, I'm getting up at 6, on the road or trail by 7 and training into the heat of the day.

This Ironman stuff sure feels nuts sometimes.

76 days and counting.

Learning to Run

I never expected running to be the part of my triathlon training that needs the most work. But according to Coach Gerardo, it's the toughest of the three tri-disciplines to master.  We're aided by equipment on the bike and the water in the pool.  But on the track, road or trail, it's just our bodies and the ground.  Apparently, a lot can go wrong in between the two, as I learned tonight in a special one-on-one coached workout at Van Nuys Sherman Oaks park.

In my hour workout that more closely resembled a learning-by-doing tutorial, I learned so much it's still hard to organize my thoughts three hours later.  For starters, my body is working against itself in my current stride.  I need to lean forward by 7 percent at the ankles.  Don't ask me how exactly to ensure it's not 8 or 9 percent.  Doing so will help instigate proper momentum, which can be further accentuated by propelling my arms in a Nordic-track like motion.  But not just any Nordic-track motion.  My elbows must retain a 90-degree angle and remain at the mid-chest level while my hands should be soft enough to cradle a rolled piece of paper.  My gaze should remain 35-feet in front of me, though currently I find myself staring down to ensure I'm leaning forward.  And when I'm not thinking about all that, my hamstrings should be firing my legs so I'm kicking high on the back stride before powering forward to land on my feet at the widest part of the shoe -- as opposed to the heel where I currently strike.  Oh yeah, when my brain is juggling all that, I need to tighten my abs for more power on the arm strides.

I feel like I ran an 800 just from typing that last paragraph!

However, all the minor adjustments and major helpings of patience started to pay off by the end of the tutorial.  Gerardo asked me to mimic his stride without thinking about it, and when I did it felt absolutely effortless.  I won't go as far as to say I was gliding, but I certainly was striding forward at a relaxed yet faster pace.  Then, I ran an 800 with these same principles in mind and Gerardo said I looked like a different runner from just 60 minutes prior.

I felt like one too.

I have sheets of paper with checklists and drills to incorporate for future workouts.  I may need to even buy a pair of track shoes to help my feet strike the ground properly.  Especially since my stability-structured shoes and podiatrist-prescribed orthotics create extra padding that makes proper foot-striking more difficult.  But I'm hooked on this idea of a more efficient stride.  Like perhaps it's the vaunted red pill that will take me down the rabbit hole into the world of Boston Marathons and US/World championship-qualifying times.

Hey, a guy can dream, right?

Dreams.  Isn't that what all this is about on some level?  Being able to feel like an elite athlete training for peak performance?  Instead of the guy reading about it on ESPN.com?  To have a coach monitor every stride to fine-tune the seemingly smallest detail that could lead to a personal-best finish?  Even if that moment is just that, a fleeting instance of glory at a local race on any given Saturday or Sunday?

Why should the pros have all the fun?

It's what moves me in the morning when it's hard to get out of bed.  And tomorrow, when I'm stumbling towards the shower at 6 to wake up and prepare for a two-hour morning brick, I'll lean forward about 7 percent to see if I can get there a little more efficiently.

95 days and counting.

Monday: Second Best to an Off Day

Triathlon training is the uncommon cure to a common case of "The Mondays." You know The Mondays...the slightly annoying, slightly depressing malaise that sets in after a blissful weekend.  In our case, in the world of the obsessed triathlete, it often consists of a Half Ironman divided over Saturday and and Sunday.  For those less fortunate, it's an emotional hangover or perhaps even a physical one.

But my Mondays are now the second-best thing to a day off in Ironman training.  Today, I spun on my trainer for 45 minutes while catching up on Mad Men.  I'm enjoying this season so far, incidentally.  It's grittier and shaping up to be a little nastier.  And subtly, I think the directors have made a very nice switch from the idyllic nature of the late 50s to the more pressure-filled world of the early 60s.  Camelot clearly has burst.

But that's not what I enjoyed most.  It was the fact that I my coaching itinerary was to stay in heart-rate zone 1 while maintaining a healthy cadence.  This yielded fresher legs, a healthy coating of sweat and the feeling that while I probably didn't gain anything from the workout physically, I still felt relaxed and ready to take on the day.  That's plenty.

The second part of my workout called for either a strength session or yoga.  Not wanting to over-exert myself, I opted for yoga.  Suddenly, Monday evening felt like Sunday evening.  I dare say that while I worked a full day today, it still feels like a three-day weekend.  How often can one say that after still completing nearly two hours of training?

The meat of my 18.5-hour training week begins tomorrow.  I've got a coached track session with Gerardo to improve my stride and a coached swim workout.  Somewhere in between I've got a big day in the office.

In other words, Tuesdays are the new Mondays in the world of the Ironmadman.

96 days and counting.

Discreet Progress

The Fortius-coached track workouts are starting to show dividends.  But in a way I wouldn't quite expect. After this morning's LA Tri Club "Chicken of the Sea" swim, I took off on a two-hour run where the goal was to negative split on an out-and-back course.  I managed to do so by seven minutes while maintaining a steady pace throughout the 12 miles from Marina del Rey to Playa del Rey and back.  My success didn't necessarily come from overdoing it on the latter part of the run.  Instead, I was able to cover a little more ground on the first half while at a slightly lower heart-rate than usual.  This seems to be where the weekly track workouts have started to pay off, though I would have expected to see an increase in speed rather than a decrease in heart rate-per-mile run.

Richard and Ann joined me this morning and both noted that I seemed to be moving at a more efficient, relaxed pace.  My arms were doing more work and propelling me forward while I wasn't exerting as much energy in the lower heart-rates to maintain a 9:00 pace.  This was encouraging news, and I wouldn't have noticed it had it not been for them.  That's one of the many perks of training with friends. I wouldn't be quite so lucky for the entire run as the couple had a different training schedule and turned back at the 45-minute mark.  That left me 1:15 to remain mentally occupied sans music.

To counter the solo Sunday doldrums, I chose to run a different route, past the bridge at Ballona Creek and onto the beach path in Playa.  At this point, I'll do just about anything to keep my brain occupied and not feeling like I'm on a mental hamster wheel where every training weekend starts to feel the same.

I suppose it's these very mental games in practice that allow me to persevere on race day -- when I need to coax myself forward instead of pausing for breaks.

The tempo part of my run started off great with a few sub 8:30 miles but once again I hit a wall just after the 10th mile where my pace dropped, my heart rate rose and my legs tightened.  I walked up the few (small) hills on the return trip to the marina.

Overall, the lesson I learned today was that progress doesn't always come from the expected or obvious source.  Sometimes it takes others to point it out to you.  Other times, the Garmin watch data can indicate momentum that might otherwise get missed.

Still, progress is progress, and I'm not complaining.

97 days and counting.

Why Coached Swim Workouts Rule

Been a busy few days!  No blog yesterday due to a Fortius post-swim beer and pizza night at Blue Dog Grill in Sherman Oaks.  It was well-deserved too, with a new PR in the 100 (1:26) and being totally gassed after anchoring a 4 x 50 sprint relay at the end of the workout.  I wanted to write, but just didn't have the energy after all the food, booze and trash-talking dished out among my Fortius team buddies.  So I saved last night's entry for tonight. I'm still caked in dried sweat and salt following the LA Tri Club Griffith Park Wednesday brick workout.  But I know if I don't blog now and wait until after a hot shower, it just may not happen at all.

There's certainly lots I could write about from the past two days.  Whether Tempe Town Lake will be filled in time for the Arizona Ironman, for example. Or, how I'm recovering from my bicycle bonk on Sunday.  Or, the secret guilt I've been harboring lately about balancing work, home and training.

Instead, I'm going to address a question Coach Gerardo had for me last night at the bar.  He asked how I thought coached swim workouts make me better.

I hadn't really considered it before.  Perhaps it's because I've taken it for granted, since I've swam with an instructor's supervision for more than a year now.  The more I think about it though, the more I realize how much of a difference a coached workout can make.

For me, it comes down to four key benefits:

-- Breaks up the monotony. Before I started attending SCAC and Fortius Coaching swim workouts, I'd trudge to the pool on my own, count laps, trudge out of the water, and think I had put in a good workout.  I dreaded every pool training session, and I saw little improvement.  By having a coached workout, there's always the excitement of wondering what the coach has in store for you. It changes with every workout, and by breaking up the hour with drills, time-trials and sprints, every workout feels unique enough to stay fresh.

-- Pushes you out of a comfort zone. When training on my own in the water, it's easy to rationalize just about anything.  Distance. Duration.  Decreasing sets.  Decreased effort. Especially effort.  If I didn't feel like going hard -- for whatever reason -- I could make up an excuse.  In a coached workout, dogging a workout wastes your financial investment and your precious time.  More important, if you respond well to direction like I do, then it's easier to "let" someone else push you through a hard workout.  Sure, it's fun to whine and light-heartedly complain about it (like I do), but the satisfaction that comes with responding to and rising above someone else's challenge makes a coached workout a more special experience than a solo effort.

-- Competition as motivator. If you're anything like me -- and if you're reading this I'm guessing you are -- sharing lanes with people at or above your skill level makes a difference in a workout.  When you swim alone, you can isolate yourself in the water and ignore the surroundings.  When you're part of a group, and there's five lanes that represent a swim speed hierarchy, it's a lot harder to avoid the reality that a coached workout may be your only ticket to improvement.  For me, I crave and dread that competition.  On one hand, I love to know how I stack up to my friends.  On the other hand, I hate when I'm keeping them from a faster lap time because they're behind me and can't quite pass in the lane at that moment.  Maybe it's better to say competition as catalyst, fear as motivator.

-- Peer pressure. 6 a.m. is early by anybody's standards.  It's flat-out awful in the winter when you're practically naked jumping into a semi-heated pool.  But when there are 10 other people doing the same thing, sharing the same experience and making the best of it, well, it's not so bad.  The coached swim workout is a bonding ritual. It's those quiet mornings in the pool when everyone in attendance could be asleep that bring individuals closer together.  It's also one of the reasons I get misty eyed at the finish chute during triathlon races.  Those are the moments I recall.  The quiet, gentle water being ripped by hungry athletes trying improve themselves.  The eerie light in the pool shining brightly reminding you that the sun hasn't risen yet -- but you and your teammates have been up for almost an hour already.  The steam that drifts to the sky if the temperature difference is big enough -- punctuated by the silhouettes of latex-hooded, goggle-wearing tri-maniacs trying not to shiver.

Those are my fondest moments of a coached workout.

Though being high-fived after hitting the coach's goals for a new time-trial PR aren't bad either.

Now I need to sign off pronto.

I've got a coached swim workout to attend at 6 tomorrow morning.

101 days and counting.

Mulholland, Piuma & Rock Store OH MY!

The shininess of progress is sometimes obscured by what appears to be failure. But if you look a little deeper, the former often outweighs the latter.

Progress sure hurts sometimes too.  I ventured out to cycle with my Fortius teammate and friend Christina this morning.  It turned into the most challenging, most painful bike ride yet -- and hopefully with he biggest payoff down the line.

First let's rewind.

My schedule called for 2.5 hours at whatever pace "the group" chose -- hills or flats.  It was supposed to be a nice follow-up to yesterday's Santa Barbara Triathlon course preview ride and run.  That went out the window though once a LA Tri Club member whom I look up to showed up with his wife and served as the ride's pace leader.

I had to know if I could keep up.  I wanted to hold Jeff's wheel without wrecking myself.  I wanted to be with the "fast" group.  Maybe it's because I still remember all those rides where I'd get dropped with the San Fernando Valley Bicycle Club.  Maybe my competitive nature got the better of me once again.

Probably a little of Column A and a little of Column B.

The short version of the story is that for 50 miles, I did keep up.  Outside of popping briefly on the El Toro grade off Highway 150 and losing the other three fastest riders, I stayed right up front.  And damn it felt good!  Even better, the five-mile run felt just as a good. I snapped off a few 8:30s and sub-8:15s while helping pace a new friend on the Tri Club.

As much fun as practicing can be, sometimes being thanked for a helping hand in training or a compliment on speed can really make all the difference between a good workout and a great one.

So with all those good vibes swirling around in my head, I didn't think twice when Christina invited me to join her for four hours of climbing in the Malibu hills.  After all, I needed to fit in the extra cycling hours I missed last week at the Vineman Full course, and we were supposed to hit 70 on the bike yesterday.

Clearly, I wasn't thinking straight.  I failed to take into account that Christina is the "Queen of the Mountains" after crushing her competition at the Amgen Breakaway Ride -- which features four climbs of the Rock Store grade.  Four!  Christina also scales these hills at least once or twice a week as part of her training for larger bike rides and at least an Ironman a year.

Christina is a badass.  And until this ride, I had no real conception of what that actually meant.

And I had no idea AT ALL what climbing Mulholland Drive, Piuma Road, Rock Store and several other hills over a 55-mile span would do to me.

On a road bike with a full carbon seat I haven't ridden in weeks.

Simply put, the ride almost broke me.  Physically, it actually did break me.  Mentally, it came as close as anything ever had in the past.  I'm talkin' LA Marathon kind of pain.

By mile 25, at the intersection of Cornell Road and Mulholland, I had enough.  I was spent.  My cadence went from a steady 80-100 on flats and 60-70 on hills to roughly 53 on hills (even down in the 40s!) and well in the 70s on the flats.  After the Mulholland Piuma climbs and on the way to Rock Store, Christina's bike became harder and harder to spot.  Like a speck amidst the waves of heat rising from the freshly paved asphalt.

Honestly, I felt pathetic.  Hot.  Dry.  Heavy.  Hurting.

I wanted to quit.  I was about to quit.  I told Christina I wanted to quit.  I was ready to go home. The ride had beaten me. Shocked me, like a surprise left hook.  Staggered me.  Showed me I still had a lot to learn as an endurance athlete.  Just because I brought the noise on a Saturday didn't mean squat.  Back-to-back was not meant to be.

Is this what being an Ironman is really like?  Had I missed the point the entire time?  It's not about one sprint race, or a good Olympic distance time or even one Half-Ironman result.  What can you bring back-to-back?  How fast can you recover?

If those are the yardsticks, I had failed.  I knew it.  And the worst part was not having the defiant energy to swing back at those self-doubts in the cloudless Sunday sun.

Christina gave me some tough love though, coated in understanding and softness.  She coaxed me to stay, saying Rock Store would "only be 25 minutes of pain" (normally it takes me around 17-18 minutes!) and I'd be home free after that, feeling great about my accomplishment.

I couldn't argue.  I didn't even have the energy to do that!  Moreover, I didn't want to derail Christina's ride.  Or let her down.  Or quit.  Again, if I could quit now, what would happen in November if I had two flat tires, a cramp in the swim and a knot in my stomach during the run?  Worse yet, what would happen if nobody was nearby to goad me into sticking it out!?

This blog was conceived with my thought of it serving as a "big goal guide" for the kids I don't have yet.  Kids who hopefully will read this one day and if nothing else, they'll know their old man was never a quitter.  I may not have been the fastest, or kept the wheel of the best guy in the club all the time. But I show up the next day.

And I don't fucking quit.

I ventured on, accepting the pain. Realizing that once again, all my platitudes about overcoming suffering really didn't mean anything until that point.  There's discomfort (my Half Ironman), and there's suffering ... today.  Suffering occurs when there seems to be no reason to continue.  The Half-Ironman at least had a finish line.  The comfort zone in your training passed by 15 miles ago and there's easily another 20 miles still to go before returning home.  With at least four hill climbs.  The water bottles are low.  The Clif bars taste the same -- they have since last November -- and gross you out.  The Hammer gels taste like cake frosting that makes you want to barf.  And the Gu Chomps...well, there's small writing on the back of the packaging indicating you shouldn't eat more than six in a two hour period for a reason.

The ride sucked.  The ride taught.

I cracked.  And repatched.

I wilted. And am regenerating.

While tomorrow now features a rest day where one didn't exist a few hours ago, I'm feeling better already.  I learned something about myself again today.  Discomfort is a speed bump.  Pain is a choice.  The brain can propel the body forward even when it really doesn't want to -- provided there's enough fuel in the system to do so.

And sometimes, your best friends, your best teammates, are the ones who push you past your perceived breaking point to show you what lies beyond.

Thanks, Christina.

I'll be back on that course.  And I'll do better next time.

104 days and counting.

The Perils of Not Stretching

A negative side effect from my busy week has been my lack of stretching.  Really, the past two weeks have been like this. It's beginning to take its toll.

Today is my usual off-day from training.  But it feels like I worked out twice.  My right calf is tight and sore.  Probably from my swim yesterday morning when it cramped up in the middle of a relay race where I squared off against Coach Gerardo.  I couldn't fold in the middle of the 50 even though my calf was begging me to.  Now my leg is paying the price.  My left IT band and right shoulder are also achy.

I remember when my massage therapist and Fortius teammate David told me soreness tends to spiral in the body since the muscle groups spiral around bone.  I'm walking...err...shuffling proof of this right now.

Not stretching is one of those "proceed at your own risk" things.  It doesn't immediately show its effects, but collectively, a week without foam rolling produces moments like the one I'm considering now -- I don't want to get out of my chair because I'll hear all the cracks and creaks in my body.

Don't remind me, Father Time!

Yes, I'm "only" 36, but days like today make me feel a little older.  And not quite as spry.  I miss the days of rapid recovery.  Like when I was in eighth grade and would play sports all summer long, day after day after day.  I'd say rinse, wash, repeat, but back then it really was just repeat, repeat, repeat!

Still, not working out for the day has been a welcome relief.  Especially knowing that tomorrow I'm waking up at 5 a.m. to drive to Santa Barbara for a SB Triathlon course preview ride and run.  My buddy Frank is joining the Fortius crew and me.  I'm not looking forward to the wake-up call, but the cool, crisp air and beautiful seaside and mountain views should more than make up for it.

Now, it's off to a family barbecue.  The activity stream continues!

106 days and counting.

Cheering on Others

My track workout was indicative of how my overall day ended.  Panting.  Relieved.  Spent.  Relaxed. A renewed bout with asthma and allergies, along with not having my orthotic inserts for a week due to resizing is taking its toll on my body.  Though I pushed on through both Ray's Fortius-coached track workout and Megan's Fortius swim session.  I've been using the asthma inhaler more than usual lately, but somehow I'm finding the energy to still perform well (by my standards) and feel like I'm still growing.  Though I'm in sort of a plateau state with my running and swimming.  My 400 and 800 run splits are almost always falling at 1:27 and between 3:19-3:22.  Granted, I've only participated in three track sessions now, but I can't yet see the time decreases just yet.  That's OK though, I'm confident it will happen.

The same goes for the swim.  No matter how much I'm in the pool, my timed 100 stays consistently between 1:30-1:32.

Have I hit my progress threshold?  What will it take to make another breakthrough?  Can my body handle more?

I'm hopeful and somewhat confident the answer is no, I don't know and yes.

But starting tomorrow, we're going to put those questions on hold.  I'm driving back up to Santa Rosa, back to Vineman.  This time I'm supporting some friends and not actually racing.  I'm going to cheer on Rusty, who graciously made the drive from San Jose 10 days ago to support me.  I'm going to cheer on Caleb, an age-group pro who works in my building in Burbank.  He's really made me feel good about myself and my training.  When someone with that kind of skill and kindness tells you he reads this blog first thing every morning, it truly fuels me throughout the entire day.  I'm eager to help return the karma.  I'm going to support Bob (@RCMcoach on Twitter), who is a fellow Fortius teammate and one heck of an inspiration.  He always encourages me in my training and supports the blog as well.

I truly can't wait to be on the other side of the chute yelling as loud -- or trying to yell as loud -- as Stephanie during my events.  It will be a strange and welcome break to not have the stress of racing on my shoulders while still experiencing the drama of it all.

I'll blog intermittently when I can the next few days reporting on my experiences.

Until then, keep training and encouraging others, my friends.

114 days and counting.

Definitely Tapering

I cleaned out my sock drawer last night.  Then, I organized my cycling gear and clothing. Signs A and B that I'm in a race taper.

Even though it was hard to wake up this morning for the 6 a.m. swim, I was excited to get in the pool. I didn't perform that well once I got there, but that's besides the point.  Same with my early evening bike ride (45 minutes featuring four, 90-second race-pace intervals and an easy cool down).  Loved being there, out in the surprisingly hot sun for 7 p.m., but didn't break any land-speed records.

From what Coach Gerardo has described, this sounds like a typical taper to me.  Right down to what I'm perceiving to be a heightened sense of edginess.  I'm almost cagey.  Definitely feeling more aggressive.

Out of the few races I've actually tapered for while training with Fortius Coaching, I feel the closest to that magical place called "race ready."  This is new for me, and I think it may be because I'm actually mentally open to the experience.  Just because I'm not training much doesn't mean I'm losing my fitness right now.  Quite the opposite.  I have more energy than I know what to do with, and yet I'm doing everything I can to stay rested and refreshed. That's probably my biggest challenge.  It's almost like having an unexpected energy boost throughout the day. I'm used to having to dig into reserves, but given my light schedule -- only a 45 minute run tomorrow followed by a lengthy Thai massage until I travel to Vineman -- I'm ready to bounce out of my shoes!

And my goodness, am I eating!  Today was insane, and I just ate a slice of vegan apple pie to hold me over into the morning.  Let's see, today I ate:

-- banana (pre-swim)

-- eggs, toast, berries and orange for breakfast

-- another piece of toast (PB and raisins)

-- apple

-- chicken and steak tossed salad with baby greens for lunch

-- Balance bar

-- carton of rasberries and two tangelos

-- lamb gyro, chicken, rice, salad and pita for dinner

-- vegan apple pie

AND I COULD STILL EAT!!!!

OK, it's 10 p.m. and I have too much energy.  Gonna go clean some more drawers, or do some laundry, or wash dishes, or torment the lady.

Maybe all of the above!

130 days and counting.