congrats to me for not dying

Every Sunday night I think, Holy shit, I somehow survived another week of training.

Post-long run feels.

And this week was a big one -- 17 hours. And my race isn't until September. Which means this insanity is only going to get better. During previous Ironman training cycles, I never went over 16 hours. Coach Liz is pushing me into all new territory. It's scary, but it's pretty amazing because I'm doing things I never thought I'd do, and the more I do them, the more normal they seem.

Sort of like pooping in a port-a-potty -- at first you're freaked out, but then it becomes no big deal.

This is our driveway, btw. Outdoor pooping available any time.