Two entries back, I mentioned that triathlon thing. Almost a month later, I'm officially registered and faithfully training. The registration is non-refundable, but I'm still not convinced the training thing won't fall apart at any moment. There's this weekend in Baltimore, a trip to DC, June weddings, beach holidays, a mountain bike that's killing my shoulder and shortening my rides, a girl at the pool I'd like to punch... so many things to make me so close to sleeping in and chalking it up. But then there's the food. So much food.
I'm eating a lot. I mean, a lot. At 7:30 this morning I had a bowl of oatmeal with peanut butter, milk and brown sugar (don't knock it until you've tried it). An hour after my swim, I'm famished so I down a fried egg, toast, juice. And now it's after 12 and in another hour I'll be hunting around for lunch. Actually, I'm a little hungry now.
Other than hungry, I feel good. I'm working out nine times a week in six days. My muscles are fatigued in a good way, not in a sit-at-a-desk-and-hate-your-job way. This means that halfway up a flight of subway steps, my thighs burn. I try to leave ten minutes early and stroll to my destinations, take the bus whenever I can. By 11 o'clock at night, I fall into a stupor of sleep and don't remember a thing until the next morning. I'm almost through a jar of tiger balm. The fabric of my bathing suit is quickly disintegratring. My face is doing the same. My shoulder hurts. I need a new bike. Who wants to train with me?
