Anyone following the saga of my triathlon prep will be pleased to know that have resisted extreme training this week and am, as of right now, healthy and up for my race on Sunday. Exercising moderately has been a revelation that I dimly recall from the last time I detrained in the week leading up to the LA Triathlon a couple of years ago. On Wednesday I biked 19 miles -- my usual to-and-from-work bike commute that I wrote about here, but I actually took it easy. I obeyed traffic signals. No one cursed at me for endangering them or cutting them off. I didn't finish my ride in desperate need of a three-hour nap.
Yesterday, I went to the pool for a swim -- which I did in my wetsuit, which I haven't worn in over a year. Yes, such overkill in a pool made me look like Martin Short in the sychronized swimming skit on SNL, but humiliation is part and parcel of race-prep. Although it took me awhile to get reacquainted with the suit, I swam a relatively-easy 2000 meters, only pushing it about half the time.
My lack of soreness and general high energy has been an important reminder: as in, oh yeah, I don't make a dime from all this exercising -- why do I spend my life training like an Olympic athlete?
Today all I'm doing in the way of exercise, if you can call is that, is mowing the lawn. And perhaps teaching Kate some karate, which is something I started doing at her behest a couple of days ago. She developed an interest last week, when I was picking up some takeout and took her along for the ride. On the way to the restaurant, she stopped and peered through the storefront window of a local karate studio. Seeing the men and women in their black-and-white uniforms enthusiastically trading punches and kicks, she asked me, "Why are those waiters fighting?"
Which led to her current interest in the martial arts.
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1 comment:
Ha! Fighting waiters! That slays me.
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