Dear Diary


I don’t keep a diary, journal or workout log. I was thinking about starting a blog, but that sounds like a lot of work and I’m a little lazy. Every year or so, I feel inspired to venture to Barnes and Noble and purchase a blank DAILY TRAINING LOG. Of course, I fill it in immediately. At the beginning, the entries are regular and thorough. They look like this:

  • DATE: May 23
  • DAY: Tuesday
  • DISTANCE: 3.42 miles
  • TIME: 32:55
  • DESCRIPTION: Walk warm up then hilly run w/Sammy. Foot hurt, but calf felt better. Hit foam roller after.

A few weeks later, they look like this:

  • DATE:
  • DAY: Wed
  • TIME: 40m?
  • DESCRIPTION: Swam. Lost count of laps.

Last week, I ripped a page out to throw my gum away.

I have no desire to keep a detailed log of workouts, races, splits, etc. Personally, it feels like something that I should be doing diligently and lovingly. By trade, I am a statistician. I love data. Data is my favorite. I love charts and graphs and histograms. I love means and standard deviations. The Normal distribution is so pretty. Just look at it!


All symmetric with skinny tails. Sexy is what it is.

I try to be a data collector, but I can’t pull it off. Maybe I don’t collect my own data because it’s just so ugly. Maybe instead I’ll start collecting Rinny Carfrae’s workout data and post it here and be all, “Iconic training week, mates. Check out these power numbers. Really Mickey Mouse. Fit as a Mallee bull. Gonna take a sickie tomorrow. Maybe buy some tallies, hit the turps, and enjoy the Freemantle Doctor.” (Click here for translation.)

What I’d rather do is keep a Diary of Ridiculosity. That way, I can keep track of all the fun things that I have seen, heard, and done in triathlon. (No smells. Smells are not invited into the diary.)

For example:

Dear Diary,
Yesterday I rode 40 miles with Kirsten, Frannie, and Steve. And I saw a really big, dead, black snake on the side of the road in Clermont. WTF? I didn’t need to see that. Can snakes get onto the island? Would they swim or take the causeway? Should I be concerned? Do I need to buy a gun? Let me know what you think, Diary. Thaaaaanks. Love you lots. TTYL. 

Or this one:

Dear Diary,

I’ve now jumped off the Cape May Ferry twice, Diary. It was SOOO SCARY!  But SOOO FUN! And NO! I did NOT jump into the back of a SHARK! You’re so silly, Diary. That only happens in the movies. And in Russia.

man-riding-shark-shopped-or-notDamn. We cut the buoy. Circle back.

Or this one:

Dear Diary,

Guess what? I raced Devilman yesterday! The headwind on the bike was brutal. Some girl was on my wheel, a regular Happy Drafter. Finally I said to her, “GET THE F#$% OFF MY WHEEL!” And she said, get this, oh it’s gonna kill you Di, she says, “It’s okay. I’m not drafting. I’m moving side to side.” HAHAHAHAHAHA! MOVING SIDE TO SIDE!! AS IF!! Classic. That one just slays me every time.

See? I could write a diary like that and then later read it, reflect, laugh, and enjoy. A diary that says

  • 400 W/U, 300 pull, 200 kick w/fins, 10×100 on the 1:50, 400 C/D

is boring.  Seriously, that stinks on ice. (And remember, no smells in the diary.) So I think I’m going to write a fun diary, with hearts in the margins and different colored inks, and leave the data recording to the elites.  In the meantime, I’m going to put on the dilly and have a dog’s eye.


But if it did, it would go into the diary.




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