1. I've got one more ridiculous weekend of riding before my schedule downgrades to merely insane, and I'm not sure I've ever looked forward to a taper as much as I am looking forward to this one. But being at the top of this build, I've had a few moments of, "you know, I think this is going to be okay." Even though my legs are stripped with fatigue, I still feel like I had a pretty solid ride on Sunday - my first crack at the SkyMass loop out in the Shenandoah with my weekend smashfest buddies. I've ridden the first 25 miles of it multiple times but this time around we white-knuckle descended through Luray, climbed the Massanutten cursing the entire way (that was me), and then rode bumpy little rollers the whole way home.
My legs weren't exactly pleased about the two miles I ran off the bike - and the five I ran later in the evening - but I've certainly felt worse after so much time in the saddle. And this ride had not quite twice the amount of climbing in it that I'll see in CdA next month. I'm certainly not going to win the race, but I have hopes that I'll do more than merely survive my way to the finish line.
2. I'm pretty pleased with how my body feels after yesterday's long run. However, my calves started complaining a bit earlier this week, and I'm taking the "ounce of prevention" route and heading up to get the shit Graston'd out of them this morning by my bruiser, Dr. Paul. I've been trying to be even more diligent than usual about recovery this week, because this is the time when little niggles get really destructive. So I dug the compression socks back out, I've been putting fabulous fuel (with a few exceptions) down the hatch despite having almost no appetite, and I'm sleeping like a rock star. I'm hoping my body is grateful for how nice I'm treating it and doesn't throw a rod in the next couple of weeks.
3. I've always heard about ironman-training-brain, but it's starting to get personal over here. This morning, as I was getting ready for my ride, I pulled my clean bike shorts out of the laundry basket and then they disappeared. I spent ten minutes tearing the house apart before I gave up and pulled on a pair of tri shorts. I wheeled my bike into the driveway and then got incredibly frustrated at my garmin because it wasn't picking up my HR strap...because I wasn't wearing it. I didn't realize I wasn't wearing a helmet until I diagnosed the odd feeling on my head two blocks away from my house, I squinted into the sun on Hains Point for two laps before realizing I wasn't wearing sunglasses, and no matter how much math I did, I couldn't figure out how 4*6/6 intervals would fit into a 90 minute ride.
When I opened the fridge to make my post-ride recovery smoothie, I discovered my bike shorts neatly folded in the cheese drawer. Someone, please, tell me this brain damage isn't permanent. And if this post is full of typos, well, you can just bite me.