It's finally training time! The mind-numbing creature called the off season, in which I had to be more dormant than I ever wanted due to my post marathon IT band issues, has finally ended. Whew!
I was supposed to have a grand kick off yesterday, but - I just couldn't wait... Remember that pre-Christmas feeling when you were a kid and are magnetically drawn to the closet where your Christmas presents are hidden? Well, that was me...
So I've been going full speed since Friday and I feel it in every muscle in my body. Oh I love that good pain feeling.
I met with swim coach Lisa yesterday (speaking of, man what an exhausting day. I got off the overnight shift at 0700, then home to gather my swim stuff and off to Atlanta (2 1/2 hour drive) to meet Lisa. She tortured me for 45 minutes, then I drove back to Birmingham and forced a 2 hour nap. I then had a 25 mile bike ride to accomplish before being back at work at 19:00. Awesome!).
Anyway, Lisa said about the funniest thing I've heard lately - "We probably only need about 2 more sessions before your stroke will be solid!" I laughed out loud... I think she was trying hard to make me feel better about panting like a dog after just a half hour of drilling... It didn't work!
I need a motivating goal for the swim. Yea, finishing the IM swim course works, but I need an intermediary. Something specific for which I can aim... I'm thinking 1 mile, 30 minutes, April 1.
Yea, I know, this is probably what a 12 year old girl can do after a 2 month layoff. But this would be infinitely faster than my 5th slowest time (overall, not in my age group) at the Music City Tri last fall. Never again will I be embarrassed like that...
There, it is said. On April 1st I will swim 1 mile in under 30 minutes. Man, that feels good to say...
So I'm going to wrap this up with some reactionary thoughts that exploded in me a few days back. It's funny how emotions play with us - toss, tumble, torture, titillate, and take us eventually to either a peak or a valley where we are left to find meaning of it all...
and now she's givin' me a little piece of her sickness...
it's 3 am and i can't sleep. you see, there's this girl...
it's always about a girl ain't it?
except this ain't just a girl, this is a
maserati ferragamo prada
with blow like ernest and
drive like cmc.
and this girl, who thinks she should be just any girl,
certainly not my girl -
circumstances are a bitch eh?
she reaches out just like i told her she anytime could
except the 1 time she did i was a supersizeme shit
i wasn't there - couldn't be -
the victim of digital fiasco.
i wanted to be but i just wasn't.
and now i am here and she's not -
she never really was -
and it is effing with me in a sleepless night kind of way.