I got a chance to test my injured leg today (pulled soleus a few weeks ago in training, and aggravated it during the Bitterroot Classic Triathlon) and things went well. Looks like I'll be able to get a few short runs in before the race. Running is my weapon in this sport, as I usually get out of the water fairly far back in the pack (more so in international competition), move up a bit on the bike, and then start passing most of my age group on the run. That's changed in recent years as I've worked on the bike and swim, but I still tend to rely on my strength to move me up in the standings.
None of that will make much difference here, as the caliber of competition is far and away better than I am used to. Being a medium-sized fish in a small pond like Montana gives me a false sense of security and accomplishment, and I am always a bit humbled as I switch to national and international races. Gives one good perspective, though. Also keeps me focused when I am training, which this week has been as consistent and high-quality as anything I've gotten in the last three months. I know we are supposed to be "tapering" for the race (dialing back the volume of training day-by-day leading up to the race, and keeping the intensity) but our hosts and their friends are such athletes that even the most benign activity turns into a major effort.
It was rainy most of today, but warm enough to run and ride in it. After a short run, Sabina (our host) dragged me and Nate up the coast on an hour-plus ride, and we through in some fast intervals on the way back. Here's the part where you get to be jealous of what I'm doing here: We hop off the bikes and put away our gear, and Sabina sets up her table and gives us each 90-minute deep-tissue massages, one after the other. I wish I had gotten into this sport earlier, when I could have justified this sort of professional treatment. I'm at the World Amateur Championships, and I have my own masseuse, cook, photographer, and coaches. Going back to my real job next Tuesday is going to suck.
There's a little bit of sabotage I manage to do to myself every time I go to a major race. I always think it is going to be a good idea to get a haircut right before the big event, and I always manage to pick the wrong place, with the wrong stylist, and I walk out looking like a pineapple. Today was no exception. If I was counting on any Samson-like powers of a full head of hair, they are now sitting on the floor of the Quickie Men's Hair Salon in Noosa, Australia. Good thing they make us wear swim caps and helmets in the race. I guess it does make me faster...
Homemade calzones, and Aussie cable shows tonight. Even their TV shows are based on outdoor activity. When do these people sleep, or work? Last serious day of training tomorrow, including a ride up to an inland lake and river, and a run in the everglades.
Jeremy
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