I was Running and Running, Then I Got Tired

Last night, due to bad karma and pre-IM worry, I couldn't fall asleep until about two. That is two in the AM. I had just enough time to start a dream where I was both good looking and a gifted triathlete, then the alarm yacks up a headbanger noise to ruin the best part of my day. I hit the snooze to try to recapture the dream. I swung and miss. I'm up, sort of. The pets are up.

I am walking down the hall in the dark, I left the hall light off so it doesn't shine in the bedroom and wake Patty. As I walk down the hall, the stinking pets attack. They cross in front of me, back and forth, back and forth. They are doing a synchronized serpentine thing, trying to trip me up. They are kind of mean about it. If you don't feed them, they keep running between my feet, trying to trip me and make me fall. I'm late.

John is in the driveway to pour me into the front seat, we swing by and pick up Jim and are at the pool at 5:25. In the morning. That is the AM.

The RTB regulars are there, making me look bad. They swim well. I practice breathing underwater. Breath in water, cough it out, gag, breath more water in, feel some stomach bile coming up, fight off the barf instinct, breath in more water, choke, swallow the stomach acid and keep moving.
10 sets of 200 yard sprints, half with hand paddles, half without. My shoulders scream in pain. I like to swim. Sure. If you bleed in the pool, do they ask you to leave? I check for blood in the water, hoping to get ejected. No luck. Maybe I have a canker or a pustule that needs attention. I start to check my arms and legs and Jim says '25 yard sprints, on the thirty, three, two one, go' I launch and flail down the pool. A little barf comes up my throat, into my nose, 'three, two one, go'. I balk. Jim takes off, I follow. I make four sprints then get out of the pool. Screw it. John and Jim keep going. I am such a loser.

We planned on swimming then running. I mention that we might be better off going to Starbucks after the swim. Recovery is important too. Jim agrees. John is driving, so we skip Starbucks and John parks at the trailhead. John takes off, runs 4 miles. Jim and I slow down to some super slow pace, we do 3 miles.

I get home, eat eggs mixed with egg whites for breakfast, roast beef sandwich with one slice of bread for lunch, peanut butter for a snack and Pappa Johns thin crust pizza for dinner, total 1969 calories. And wine, which my doctor said I should have for my heart, so I don't count that. I need a skinny cow or two.