Oh, look who’s back. I don’t remember asking your opinion, Australian spokesmodel.
After a very long winter break, my spring semester started last week. It’s a bad news/good news/bad news kind of thing. The bad news is that vacation is over. The good news is that the countdown to summer has officially started. The bad news is that my lollygagging, half-assed, train-when-I-feel-like-it season must end. Time to get to work.
I usually start my training season by sitting down at the kitchen table. I know. I’m a glutton for punishment. I write “Mom’s Race Calendar” for the year and put it on the bulletin board. It used to go on the fridge, but a few years ago we bought a new fridge that is impervious to magnets. It is a sleek yet barren landscape in my kitchen. It feels wrong. It must have been manufactured by Communists.
My list is partially complete. I have included all of the tried and true standards: Islandman, Manland, Cedar Island 5K swim, the Delmo series. Maybe Hammonton over Memorial Day weekend, if only to pick up some fresh blueberries. I am fooling around with the idea of a fall 70.3. Spring races are on hold, as I may have an upcoming date with a surgeon to relieve some pain in the dreaded left leg. The first race on the list is Escape the Cape in June. Obviously, my training should focus on jumping into cold water from high places.
Once I put a pin in Mom’s list, the work begins. You know what I’m doing, because you are doing it, too. We are shuffling through workouts at the bottom of the swim bag, looking for the longer yardages. We are thinking about speedwork on the track. Ugh, that’s right. Back to the track. We are seeking out hills on the bike rather than avoiding them. This morning, my walk from the bed to the bathroom started with some gingerly-taken steps. Ouch. Little aches and pains and stiff parts come back. Which means I’m coming back. That’s a good thing.
Starting the season in great shape crucial for me. If I don’t, my WBTU teammates will leave me in the dust. They will do it lovingly, of course. But still.
We really need a complete team photo, ladies. Or I need to get handy with Photoshop.
So here we go. Get that race calendar assembled and get your bike some TLC. Charge up the Garmin. Order a crap load of gels and powders and pills from Hammer. Dig out the extra water bottles.
Let’s all hold hands and jump in together. And let’s help each other, push each other, and remind each other why we do all of this in the first place…for the free beer after party.
This reminds me. I need to include photobombing into my training.