You know what else is insane? This training. I rode for 4.75 hours today (almost 66 miles) and then got off the bike for a 20-minute transition run. Which means I worked out for more than five hours. In one day. And yet that is less than a third of the time it will likely take me to complete Ironman. Dear god, what the hell have I gotten myself into?
Random thoughts from today's "experience" (which started with hills in Discovery Park, then an out and back to Redmond and then the usual giant climb home):
What was up with the smiling strangers? Either I looked awesome (and yes, Muppet is pretty damn sexy), or there was Hammer Gel all over my face. I think it was the latter.
Can I put hot dogs in my bike special needs bag at IMAZ? Because about three hours into this ride, I couldn't stop thinking about sausage. (OK, I know what that sounds like. But I'm being serious here.) My stomach started growling, and no matter how much Hammer Gel I
|Can I record this on Training Peaks?|
All joking aside, I probably should figure out what to do about the insane mid-ride hunger. My pre-ride breakfast clearly wasn't enough, and gels don't replace real food.
I like my bike so much better than any boy I have ever met in my whole entire life. I just wish I could win the lottery so I could get Muppet a new saddle (my butt constantly hurts) and a fancy wheelset. Because as a wonderful, solid, loyal life partner, she deserves everything.
|Look at that hot piece of ass.|
Riding in aero is much more comfortable than not riding in aero. And I can't believe I'm actually at a place where I can say that.
My neighbors must think I'm crazy. They see me take my bike out early in the morning, come back some time in the afternoon and then immediately leave the house again to go for a run. I'm also pretty sure they hate the sound of the bike trainer and curse me for riding it at 6 a.m.
I love my tri kit and think it's the most adorable thing ever, but I feel like a total douchebag when I'm running around the neighborhood in a full kit with a matching logo hat and There Is No Race. It's just me all by myself, running around like an idiot in an obnoxious spandex outfit while people are walking their dogs and weeding their gardens and releasing their children. (That's what parenting is, right? You release your children in a public space and let them run around until they pass out? Oh wait. Clearly this is why I have cats.)
I tried to take a picture of my kit so you could see just how adorable it is and also just how ridiculous it is to be wearing this around the neighborhood. And then a fat, lazy cat photobombed me. Which brings me to my final random thought for the day: Cats hate triathlon.