Said no one training for one, ever. The chafing. Oh my lord, the chafing.
But the eating! All of the eating is glorious! And a bit exhausting.
I suppose I’ve been pretty quiet around here for the simple fact that life has been rather monotonous in its form of kids/eat/train/eat/work/train/eat/work etc… How’s that for riveting reading? Told you… all glamour, all the time.
Sidebar: did I shower today?
I’m starting to get anxious for this start line. It’s been 8 years since my last Ironman and – not unlike childbirth – I’ve kind of blocked out how hard getting ready for this thing is. I’ve been unceremoniously reminded of that fact, however, in a few of my last key workouts. Not to mention, my deep, deep desire for sleep. Case in point:
Last week, I was lying on the floor as the kids were watching a movie (apparently, it was too trying for me to heave myself onto the couch). I’m yawning and stretching, wondering aloud when the movie will end so we can call it a night.
Anja turns to me and in her 5 year old wisdom says: “Mama, it’s ok. You got to bed, we’ll tuck ourselves in.”
I suppose I needed that reminder to put on my big girl pants.
I’ve set a lofty goal for myself, one I fully intend to achieve, even if it means going way to the back of the hurt locker to get there: a Kona slot.
Doesn’t that just mean the post-race beer will taste that much better?
3 weeks to go…
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