With triathlon season well behind me, and having given up the notion that I'd put in even five hours a week to maintain any level of fitness in the off-season, I find myself with time. It's a glorious amount of time. There is no pressure to fit in one or two workouts a day, no packing of clothes, no heaps of extra laundry and only a minor lump of guilt to deal with and a daily gut pinching to measure the growth of the bulge. With all this extra time, I could be getting so much done, but it's the opposite. My productivity lessens exponentially to the amount of time I have. What I have been doing is reading, finishing the weekend New York Times crossword puzzles and walking the dog.