I went to Haine's point on Saturday and did another "brick" with the D.C. Tri club. Saturday's brick (NOT ON THE SCHEDULE, I'm just sayin'!) called for a 1:15 ride and a 15 min run.
It was a beautiful perfect day. I felt good. God's in his world and all is well. What could go wrong?
Well, nothing really. The end.
I rode 1 hour and 15 minutes and covered about 15 miles to everyone else's 20. And then I ran 15 minutes, with legs made out of jello that apparently had been encased in cement.
After that there was a barbecue. With TONS of food. This is the most fun bunch of people! I even met another blogger. Go give him some bloggy love.
I was a little bummed about my bike speed, but whaddya gonna do? I didn't fall over, so that was a plus.
(Sidebar: Speaking of falling over: So I was out riding on the trail one morning last week when a colleague caught up with me. We rode together past where I usually turn off, cuz he was showing me a shortcut to work that didn't involve stairs. It did involve darting between cars that were stopped for a red light. The problem with that is that the cars are stopped in one direction, but there are other cars turning onto the road. Not only cars; there is the occasional TROLLEY. And that's how I elevated my heart rate waaaay beyond any training zone. Clipped in, riding in between cars stopped at a light, when I looked up and saw a trolley. God help me, somehow I managed to clip out, stop, and not fall over. I deserve any and all abuse you wish to heap on me.)
But not going fast on the bike is OK. It's not like June 21 is right around the corner or anything. I have plenty of time.
Sunday was supposed to be a one-hour run. Not happening. I went off the NUTRITION RESERVATION and I totally blame church, where, in a fit of insanity, I ate a donut. OK, OK: I had TWO donuts. And then? I crashed and burned. When I got home, I took a two-hour nap, thinking I'd get up and head to the Y to run on the treadmill, my new favorite toy. Not. Happening.
Once you are off sugar be very careful starting up again. It's like taking powerful drugs. Sure you feel good for about 2 minutes, and then BAM. You are so done.
Number One Daughter is back home and has got it into her head that she wants to live in a clean, and organized, house, so we spent the rest of Sunday leaving stuff by the Dumpster, where other people often come and grab it, and giving away loads of linens and clothes that don't fit anymore.
Today was a 45 minute run, which I thought I'd turn into an hour run because of yesterday's day off. I appear to be addicted to the treadmill, which is very odd because I used to detest it. But, ya know what? I go faster on it, so I figure (hope? pray?) that my "speed" will translate to the open road.
So I planned to do my hour run tonight. Note: The YMCA politely requests that you limit your workout to 30 minutes if people are waiting.
Which of course, I interpret to mean that EVERYONE ELSE should limit their workouts to 30 minutes.
After my 30 minutes were up, I oh-so-nonchalantly reset the treadmill to 30 more minutes, when some old coot came up to me and said "YOU KNOW THERE ARE PEOPLE WAITING." Well, really! Some people!! Who do they think they ar...oh, actually, it's me who's the ass****.
I hate when that happens.
So, no hour run yesterday, no 45 minute run today, the plan is a shambles, but my apartment is really clean!