This is it - I'm in the thick of Ironman training, it doesn't get longer, more sweaty, or more hunger-inducing than this. Last weekend was the Diabolical Double, this weekend a long ride along the SkyMass route with Mindy and Sarah and we'll probably see Kristin out there. Party on Skyline Drive in the summah. Then Sunday is a long run. When I'm in the middle of training builds like this, I just put my head down and try to get it all done. It doesn't always happen the way I want it to, here and there I'll find myself on the bike at 9pm after getting home from work late. Or I'll play the pro/con game of which swim practice do I go to the next morning - the 5:30am or the 7am? The 5:30am one is always smarter, but it sure doesn't feel that way at 4:50 when my iPhone is blaring its alarm at me. And then there's the whole eating enough to sustain everything. I was very, very happy to get my hands on the Skratch Labs Portables recipe book this evening. Within the hour of ripping off the plastic wrapping, I had my first recipe in the oven - French Toast Cakes. French toast in portable form - best idea ever. These will be taking up residence in my jersey pockets tomorrow morning. This is how my Friday evenings are now spent - baking and then sampling the goodies. The last time I sat in front of the TV and zoned out was Sunday when I was catatonic on the couch post-Deep Creek Lake trip.
And we'll just briefly touch on the meltdown city that happens here and there. Not usually during training. No crying allowed on the bike. Typically the meltdowns are triggered by silly #firstworldproblems. Tonight it was a combo of getting home late, getting caught in a downpour (which stopped when I arrived at my door), finding out that kebabs, not pizza, were for dinner (3 bagel Fridays just don't give no satisfaction), and then my Kindle breaking on me - again - after I just downloaded a new book. See, no big deal, but the smoke filling up the house while we grilled the kebabs on the stove because we had no more gas for the grill was the last straw. No, realizing we were out of dishsoap and had a sink full of dishes, THAT was the last straw. I haven't worn this pair of super cranky pants in awhile. Good thing tomorrow is a new day. And I have french toast cakes to fill my jersey pockets, girlfriends to ride my bike with, and a husband who loves me despite the meltdowns.