70.3 World Championships: race report

So I spent the week before this race in bed. Once or perhaps twice I dragged myself to the gym, swam about two hundred yards and then said well that was a terrible idea and crawled back under the covers. I rode my bike to make sure I could handle the deep wheels I had borrowed and I jogged with my running group but for the most part I tried to hunker down and let my body heal. Traveling was a reasonable amount of a pain in the ass, flights got screwed up and I ended up sitting in the back of my parents car alone with my bike box while the poet took a tour of the east coast instead of joining me on the flights he was actually booked to travel on (thanks, United). We arrived in Mont Tremblant, I checked in by the skin of my teeth, built my bike, and then climbed into the soft squishy quiet hotel room bed and slept for over 13 hours. When I woke up Saturday morning I felt awful, the worst I had felt all week. I hopped in the lake for about four minutes to check for lake zom