Two for Two, Pump up the Volume

Trilogy #2 is in the bag, and I found myself atop my age group again. I experienced some of the same issues from the first race, in addition to a miserable swim this time around. In short, I couldn't get comfortable even for a second on the swim.

I have no idea why, and my time was not horrible. I just didn't feel good. Then, I think I went out too hard on the bike and found myself struggling against a headwind on the return. The first mile of the run was almost scary, as my calves flared up just as they did in the first Trilogy. Fortunately, again, they loosened up and I felt great in the last two miles.

The recovery was just enough to take 1st in the 25-29 by 14 seconds, as I almost got passed in the end by some great runners in my age group. 4 of the top 20 run splits in the race came from the 25-29M. I am sure that the third Trilogy will be even more competitive and everyone will be pushing their hardest.

Splits:

Swim - 6:47 (3rd AG - swim was extended longer than first Trilogy)
Bike - 25:38 (1st AG, 12th overall)
Run - 19:53 (4th AG, 20th overall)
Total - 54:06 (1st AG - 17th overall)

Here is your's truly on the top of the Powell Bridge, looking quite official for the part:



Sunday is the Huntington's Olympic. There's absolutely zero pressure on for this one, and I'm proud to say that Amber will be giving it her first shot at the distance. This race, no matter the outcome, is something special to be a part of because 100% of the proceeds go to research funding for the disease. For that, I am grateful to be involved with it in any way.

That said, I do plan on racing my ass off. If everything clicks, it may be a good indication of my present strengths and weaknesses.

In other news, it's hot. It's humid. Trust me, I know. As the sheer number of hours I spend outside swimming, biking and running increase by what seems as multiples of ten, I find myself in a convenient position to firmly lodge complaints in my psyche.

Fortunately there exists a quick, backhanded response every time I catch myself whining:

What are you going to do when you are eight hours deep in Clermont and hurting? Are you going to bitch about it or suck it up and race? Then train how you race.

So I try to suck it up and keep the whining to a minimum. This can be a challenge in itself, particularly when one teeters on the fine line of exertion and punishment. These are relatively uncharted waters. My mind and body, caught in brief moments of whinage, is largely accepting the increase in training volume. Clermont is no longer a distant mirage on the horizon... it is a fully-loaded freight train steaming downhill toward me.

The payoff - it is what keeps me on track. The feeling of crossing that line knowing that I was prepared and gave everything I could give is what forces me to keep the pace or finish the workout. I don't think I am too much fun to be around while training these days, because I find myself seeking isolation. I find my best workouts are done alone and my sociability stock must be plummeting faster than sales at the Hummer dealership.

That's not to say I'm not having fun - it is just a learning experience like anything else. And come October 25, it will take nothing short of an act of god to stop me from reaching my goal.