Phew! We had a pretty nice Monday morning swim. After an 800 warm up, we did 5x300 with 20 seconds rest in between. We finished with a 200 warm down. The swim stroke is feeling a bit better these days and my swimming endurance has improved tremendously, but I am still not, nor do I think I will I ever be, a swimmer. When I started all this triathlon nonsense—as my wife sometimes affectionately refers to it—I really could not swim a lick. I don't even think I swam a thousand yards in preparation for my first sprint triathlon. I underestimated how difficult the run was going to be. I was running six miles two or three times a week, thinking "...heck, the run will be cake." Not after a 24 minute swim and a 17-mile trek on a mountain bike with a front suspension fork. Although, now that bike ride would would be excellent training. The most difficult part of training is still the hidden variable of being a father. By the time we get all the kiddies in bed—sometimes it is real work—it is approaching nine o'clock. Alaina and I are usually spent and need time to unwind. Most times we will recharge with one another, but we have been known to go into our individual caves and get the fuzziness out of heads for a half hour before we can even begin to communicate using things other than grunts and moans. This "fuzziness" is something that I like to refer to as "Post-Bedtime Traumatic Caveman Disorder." This is a serious and common affliction that should not be taken lightly. As many as... every parent suffers from this disorder, whether they know it, or believe it. Seriously, the kiddies can really tap you. My theory is that our kids have so much energy because they steal it from us.
Generally, parents embrace that time with their partners. As humans, we need that time. That is why I am still getting in bed a bit later than I would like. I like to pretend I am still marginally connected with the outside world when I am done wrestling all five of my kids. Coincidentally, the boys might be bigger, but those girls are pretty squirrely and have no fear. They also think nothing of it running full speed and crashing their knees down in your stomach after dinner. Lovely. A premature post-bedtime traumatic caveman syndrome (PBTCD) sound is usually uttered: "Huuuuaaaaggghh!" Good thing I have been working those core muscles. If only getting punched in the gut without warning were part of the transition process, I would be completely prepared for it.
I am already looking forward to Friday when we have a tough 3200 swim again. What make this one especially tough is the main set is 2x1000. Dreary folks, dreary. My form starts to slip a tad (by a tad, I mean, it starts to look like I may be in need of some assistance from the lifeguards) after the first thousand and I have to be conscious of it, otherwise I start slowing down, and it just takes that much longer. Okay, off to battle. Happy Training everyone!