Whatta Weekend!!!

Since I've been living on my own with house-sitting gigs, I've noticed two things: 1) I spend a lot of money on food--and it's not like I'm buying filet mignon and lobster every day, I'm pretty price conscious; and 2) I travel with a huge assortment of (necessary) crap--foam roller, massage stick, supplements, multiple bikes, a gagillion workout outfits, etc. But I guess that's really no shocker: A triathlete who eats a lot and has a lot of stuff. Big deal. Onto the good stuff...

I had an EPIC weekend of training, with the pre-epicness starting Friday when I decided that my only exercise would be delivering newspapers on my single-speed in Capo Beach/Dana Point. I still wasn't feeling 100% from all the recent racing and wanted to charge hard Sat & Sun, so the hour-plus delivery job was just enough. Sounds crazy, but I had a blast doing it! Maybe because this was my view:

Can you believe that water? Insane! That little taste of outdoor bliss got me amped for the weekend of training I had planned with Sara.

And after a hearty Friday-night dinner with a fellow triathlete who also had a hefty weekend of training ahead (his made mine look weak), Saturday finally came and the real epicness began. It started with me trying to kill myself--yes, I OD'd on salt tablets thinking they were my L-Glutamine & BCAA pills. Too many little baggies with white pills lying around! I had at least double the recommended dosage of salt on top of a few Endurolytes. Oopps! I was a little shaken up, but thankfully, I ended up being totally fine the whole day--my sweat seemed extra salty though. I'm curious: What happens if you OD on salt? I'm still too afraid to Google and find out.

By the time Sara showed up at 8, I just wanted to get out and go. The plan was to ride south through Camp Pendleton and eventually turn around whenever we hit 35 miles, which ended being in South Carlsbad. The ride was simply awesome. Sara and I are like long-lost best friends. It's weird how we just instantly clicked on every level--athletic ability, personality, lifestyle, etc. We were pushing each other hard the whole ride. From San Onofre through Pendleton, we met up with another group of guys Sara knew that had us hammering to keep up. Then minus the guys, we continued into O-side and Carlsbad on our own. We pit-stopped at the campgrounds then headed back north, stopping again to refuel at 7-Eleven. Then it was on. We laid down the hammer and it got silent. No words just work. The toughest part was the final stretch on Old El Camino Real to home. The whole time I was thinking IMCA 70.3 next March--yup, I signed up for round 2! Then, unfortunately (or fortunately) the house I'm living at is on a cliff, so at mile 70, we were greeted by this (burn!!):

We got in 71 miles with a few pit stops in roughly 4 hours. We were both stoked to get off the damn bikes at that point. Despite the temptation to call it a day, we threw on our running shoes and I took us on a route along PCH that would force us to get in 4+ miles, no way to cut it short and go home. Felt like the longest 30 minutes ever.

After the run we were spent but on Cloud-9 with such a quality bike/run. We made some killer tacos at my place and sat around for a bit but not too long because there was still one thing on the agenda--an ocean swim!

So we headed to Lost Winds in San Clemente to get wet...bikinis only, no wetsuits necessary. Two things: 1) I didn't think I had it in me to do more physical activity, 2) I rarely do ocean swims except in racing, so kinda freaky. But the water was so inviting and we charged. Turned out to be one of the best swims I've ever had. Not necessarily in speed or anything like that, but just the refreshing crystal-clear water, my confidence in the ocean and how good it felt on our tired muscles = amazing!

After that we just laid on the beach loving life with 5 hours of hard training done.

Saturday night was a blur, I was delirious and a bottomless pit of hunger. I tried to take a bath in the jet spa, but the bubble bath I dumped in super-activated with the jets on and I drown in bubbles nearly instantly, as you can see (and it even got worse!):

So then I curled up on the couch with more food and TV.

That didn't last long. Sleep came early. Sunday was another big day, but unfortunately, I'd be going solo.

The morning came too soon, I robotically fueled up with power oatmeal & coffee and headed out early before changing my mind and doing jack sh*t instead. The plan: 20-mile bike followed by a 10-or-more-mile run (depending on the legs)--with the bike being just a warm-up and the run being the real focus of the day.

The first few miles on the bike I questioned my ability to execute my plan but I kept pedaling and it became easier, in a painful sort of way. (The weird picture to the right was all I got in mid-workout this weekend--I totally sucked in the camera department both days!) While riding, I could tell I was still needing calories like crazy from Saturday because I had two Gels just on that short ride! I even ate a yogurt and fruit in transition before heading out on my run along the coast.

For the run, I chose a relatively flat course along the beach. (Clearwater on the brain.) I ran until the Beach Trail ended, then headed back but I approached my turn home way short of 10 miles, so I sucked it up and tacked on another 5k-ish, which put me at 11.5 miles for the day, and about an hour and half of running total. Turns out that last 5k was my fastest, too, all of it sub-7:30.

DONE!

Immediately back at home, I grabbed the entire ice maker from the freezer, dumped it in the bath tub, turned on the cold water and just sat in there truly loving it. It was my first real ice bath and it's all I craved the last half of the run. The rest of the day consisted of a lot of lying around, eating nonstop and working on fixing my hideous tan lines at the beach. Ian stopped by on his way home from his insane training weekend down in San Diego, so we shared stories. Triathlon is so much more fun when you have people to share the craziness with because the general population just doesn't understand... and it's not even fun trying to explain anymore. I just get weird looks.

Maybe it's because I've been by the beach, but training has never been so delightful. Even when it hurts and I want to stop I'm still happy to be out there. I never want to leave this place. I mean, after a killer workout, this is what awaits me less than a mile away: