After a few more days of recovery and hot yoga, I returned to the saddle Friday afternoon. I rode for an hour, hilly roads, in 95-degree weather and swirling winds, and ended with a short 15-minute run. Afterwards, I looked at my Garmin was mildly pleased I covered 22 miles during that time. But, it didn't give me the redemption that was expecting.
On Saturday, I met my tri-group for an open water swim. We followed that with a bike ride/ run. Again, my performances were pleasing but didn't bring me the motivation that seems to have melted away during my illness.
There is one last local triathlon in five days before everyone surrenders to the heat. I want to do it. Or more so, I want to want to do it. Or maybe even more so, I want to do it well.
I feel like I have a lot of bad races. I am scared of having yet another.
But, on the other hand, I love triathlons and the triathlon community, so should it even matter if I do well? I feel like it has been ages since I have PR’ed, but that does not mean that I have not had fun during all my attempts.
At the end of the day, I love to race. So I don’t know why I can’t commit and bring myself to fill out the entry form. If I don’t do it soon, I lose the opportunity all together.
In addition to my running, biking and swimming, I was able to spend weekend with my favorite people. On Saturday, David and I went out for our anniversary. We rarely go out so this was a special treat. I had quite a few drinks.
On Sunday, I laced up my running shoes and left for a run – I had no idea where I was going or how far I would go…I didn’t bring music or water…I just ran! After about a mile, I thought maybe I had a hangover. And I realized that it was very hot. But I just kept running and it turned out to be glorious run – I ran all over the city – and eventually found myself at my mom’s house. She gave me a hug even though I was all sweaty.
I love my family.
I love to run.
I love to race.