I think I've hit it. I'm five+ weeks with a back injury, slowly but surely getting better, but still not quite right. Started a full-time job two weeks ago. Had three consecutive workouts--a run, swim and bike ride--where people who shouldn't have kicked my butt. Like the hairy, wheezing man in Central Park walking up the hills and shuffling down them. He kicked my butt. A cold has wrapped itself around my throat, chest and vocal chords and is holding on tight. It may be time for a break.
Except for the cold, I'd be thrilled if the race were this weekend. My mouth is watering for a full week of no workouts, a good night's rest, a night to hang out with friends where it's not contingent on them running or biking with me. Yet, despite all my complaints and feeling unworthy of 90% of the working out in the park, I feel like I'm in damn good shape. I'm even close to losing the spare tire around my middle. A spare tire that's been there since puberty. Wouldn't that be something.
Looking at the calendar, I've got about 2 weeks left. 14 more days of training, 3 days of taper and the race. And then you'll be free of hearing my incessant complaints and I can blog about all the other exciting aspects of my life. (Did I mention that I'm starting a business? That we found a space?) I guess I should have done a better job of touting the positive sides of triathlon training. Maybe I could have recruited someone to train with me for the next one. Trust me, there are some fun things about training. Or maybe it's not fun at all, but the self-satisfaction, the definition in your muscles, the gap in the waist of your jeans, the sheer accomplishment of all those hours in the pool, on the bike, in your running sneakers. That's where it's at.
