Alright, maybe I wasn't really in jail. Life's just been messing with this blog. We're now less than nine months out from the Rev3 Ironman this September. It's time to quit playing grab ass and buckle down a bit. That's what I've been doing. Kinda.
When Katie and I got back from our honeymoon, I was doing pretty good with the weight. My fitness was a different story, but at least I hadn't porked up too bad. And that's in spite of all the wine and beer and crazy fried Spanish food we gorged on. So that was good. While it lasted. Between the middle of November and the New Year--well just look at my photo.
The good news was that I was hitting the bike trainer pretty hard and running a good bit. Mostly, I was just trying to build a bit of a base before my 36 week IM training plan kicked in. So far, so good. Fat but somewhat fit, I'll take it this time of year.
I haven't been training too much with Katie though. Anyone who knows us knows that Katie hates training with me. I won't mince words. She dogs it when we run or bike together. And the second I open my mouth about it, HOLY shit. I'll say something like "honey, I think you could pick up the pace just a smidge. You're doing great though. Keep up the good work." Katie's response is usually straight from Full Metal Jacket. That's exactly how it goes usually. Problem is, Katie can dog it all week and then still hammer it home when she decides to. Long story short, I got Katie a coach for Christmas. Now she doesn't have to train with me. And she probably won't yell at Coach Sean when he tells her to quit screwing around. What stinks about the whole deal though is that I probably sealed my own fate. I'll no doubt be getting chicked soon. Crap.
Last weeks training summary:
Swam--5700m
Biked--3:20
Ran--20mi
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