Weekends. Ah. The word that used to mean “rest” or “relaxation” or “party.” The word which changed meaning once I birthed kids, but now means: ass busting workouts, time with kids, and laundry.
And I love it. Yesterday, of course was the trail run.
Today was 52 miles on the bike (3:20:15 time) with the Expert, plus a gnarly bee-sting which is still ouching me.
Then, pool with the kids. Plus a dinner at the old Italian haunt in Duluth.
Whew. And it’s now 8:00, Sunday night, and I’m just starting on the laundry. I’m not going to see a single load dry. I am T-minus 15 minutes to night-night.
This triathlon life is insane. And I’m loving every single second of it.
Check out this nasty blister on my foot from yesterday. This photo is gross. I know, and I admit it. But like a car wreck, I want to stare at it, and share it. I’m sorry. It’s gross, I know. Gross. It’s like a third nipple. Ha. Ew.