"The Push Phase"

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The ITU Triathlon World Championships are 20 days away. And I can't run, because my (aging) legs have decided they cannot handle any more speed. So this week, which was to be the Push Phase of my training, a big effort with at least 10,000 yards of swimming, 150 miles of cycling, and 30 miles of running, is not going to happen. I can do the swim, and most of the bike, but a torn soleus (it's below the knee, and above the foot) is going to reduce running to almost nothing. Which gives me a perfect excuse to NOT DO THAT WELL in Australia next month. Hey, I know I don't believe it, but it's nice to have excuses going in.

Today's workouts consisted of a really short technical swim under the watchful eye of Christoff ("Yooo haaahve to pooooool throough, snap ze back part of ze stroke...." seriously, what the hell is he saying?..) and a ride on the bike trainer on my deck at home as the sun went down, while on a conference call. I wonder if my clients were concerned about the heavy breathing on my end? At least they couldn't see what I was wearing. Lycra is generally not acceptable office attire in our firm.

I both dread and love the Push Phase. It means that the standard, everyday workout is something I have to be ready for, rested, fueled up, and mentally redy to tackle. There are no "going-through-the-motions" sessions now. Each time I hit the road or water, I have to remind myself that this workout counts three weeks from now; the previous three months were about getting my body to the point where it could handle these specific workouts. Bizarre concept, really, but ;you have to train to train. Knowing that I have almost no chance of doing any better than the upper half of my age-group in Australia is both a motivation, and a mind-screw; what difference does it make if I don't do this last 100 in the pool all-out? The problem is that I know. So I do it.

But I also had a big handful of frozen frosted circus-animal cookies after my big healthy athlete dinner tonight. I mean, I gotta have a few rewards. Like sleep. And beer. And red meat. These are the things I have been monastically been eliminating (not completely) from my routine. Mentally, it makes me think I'm a real athlete, even if for only a month or two. It certainly will make the post-race celebration memorable. I wonder if the Aussies can make a decent burger? Man, this is bad, I'm supposed to be thinking about my circuit-training session and 2000-yard swim tomorrow, and about asking all of you to kick in your five bucks for Youth Homes, and all I can think about is burgers and beers.

I'm going to eat an apple and go to sleep.

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