I woke up this morning at 7 a.m.
7 a.m. on a Sunday! WTF? I feel like my Nana. Actually, if I were my Nana, I’d have slept in like a bear this morning. Nana rises at 5 a.m.
Maybe it’s because I ran a practice triathlon yesterday. And by practice triathlon, I mean I swam 60 laps in the North Shore Pool, followed by a 3-mile run, followed by a 14-mile bike ride — a repeat of the last two weekends.
Maybe it’s because I went out to dinner with friends last night to a trendy Italian restaurant with an hour-long wait, which we spent wisely at the bar, drinking vodka cocktails.
Maybe it’s because I’ve got one week left until my second triathlon.
(Yes, I signed up for a second triathlon. I told you I would.)
I don’t know how familiar you are with Florida weather in August and September, but it ain’t fit to move in. The way I used to feel in a Buffalo after a long hard winter is the way I feel in Florida after a long hot summer. The Florida summers are my Buffalo winters. Any time anyone in this state dare comments on the bleakness of Buffalo, I tell them sweating for five months and shivering for five months takes the same depressing toll on the body.
I need to be outside and moving. Got too much energy to burn. If something gets in the way of that, I get pissy.
So the second tri is Oct. 3 on Siesta Key Beach. Next Sunday.
This time I roped my four-foot-11 spitfire sister, PK, into doing it. We gave ourselves two months to train — a whole 30 days longer than the last time I trained.
I figured training with PK would be a good excuse to spend more time together. Under normal circumstances she avoids my many requests to run, bike, kayak and/or do yoga together. Like many fitness fiends, I think everyone shares my love of physical exertion. I’m annoying like that.
But under “triathlon training” circumstances, PK would HAVE to be my workout buddy.
I still can’t believe she enthusiastically signed up for this thing. It cost $100 to register and PK is famously cheap.
While our training regime has been a little too lax for my liking, it has consisted of some weekend marathon swimming/running sessions.
PK has made enormous progress.
Her swimming has evolved from an awkward goggle-less doggie paddle to a full-on flutter-kicking crawl stroke, goggles and all. Yesterday she swam 50 laps this way.
A treadmill-runner, PK was unaccustomed to pounding pavement, so when we ran our first three miles outside (in the blistering heat) she walked frequently between runs. Her first three miles (back in August) took 42 minutes. Yesterday she cut that time down by almost 10 minutes.
I’m very proud of her.
Yesterday she told me she loved swimming so much she thinks she’ll stick it out after the tri is over. She’s become an underwater torpedo.
As for me? I’m ready for Tri No. 2.
Last night as I crawled into bed, my limbs and muscles exhausted, my head fuzzy from drinking, I told Joe that when I’m running, or biking or swimming, I’m 100 percent focused on getting from point A to point B, which is unusual for me. To not be distracted. To be fully honed in on something. To be fixated. Determined.
I’ve found that racing thoughts evaporate in the act of racing.
I think straighter when my heart rate is up.
PS. Photo by laura.foto.