|Red is the color of shame. And also a lot of wine.|
... to this.
It's been great -- I really don't feel like myself unless I'm training -- but absolutely exhausting. I spent a good portion of my weekend on the bike. On Saturday there were hill repeats (which, by the way, are my least favorite activity ever, except for maybe spending all afternoon barfing in an airport) ...
|Pain never looked so pretty.|
... followed by a swim. Then yesterday brought a 2.5-hour ride with a transition run.
|Don't worry. This wasn't a permanent fashion choice.|
As a result, I've had such horrible post-workout brain fog that on Saturday when I finished the ride, I packed my bike, left my Garmin on the roof of my car and drove off. Thankfully, I realized what I had done and went back, and by some miracle, a random cyclist found my watch on the side of the road ("The sun was shining right on it!" he said) and gave it back to me.
And since I'm apparently too dumb to learn from my mistakes (insert dating joke here), after yesterday's workout, I went to the tri store to buy Skratch and a new cassette (went from 12-25 to 11-28 because have I mentioned how much I hate hills and dear god, please bring on the cheater gear), got work done on my bike, packed it in the car and drove off. Two hours later, the woman from the tri store called to tell me I had left the Skratch and my old cassette in the parking lot.