There were four days in Seattle this week. Sure, Seattle-ites got all seven days — but I was there Monday through Thursday. As a result, I only rode for 30 minutes and though I ran, only covered 15 miles. While there, I found sunny skies and crisp breezes and none of the infamous thousands of shades of gray to accompany rain. Unfortunately, the trip was all business and very little play so for the most part, I saw the aforementioned sunshine from the windows of a conference center.
The trip came on the heels of a half Ironman last weekend. However, I did not race. Saturday I was laid low by a stomach virus. After waiting in the loudest line in the history of neighborhood coffee shops and breaking into a cold sweat, my senses overloaded. I managed to step out of line and burst into the bathroom in time to vomit Saturday’s breakfast into the sink. The rest of the day is a blur. I wandered through it, slept and vaguely recall loud children-like sounds. Dana Ann took over everything and kept the house running.
Less than 30 hours later, I tried to wrangle several lively kids out of the playground only to hear my oldest son announce to a quarter acre full of neighbors, “We have to leave because my Papa has diarrhea and might explode.” Thank you Desmond, I could have done without the announcement.
That is two straight weeks of sub-par — abysmal training. That’s just how it goes sometimes. Next week will be better. It will start tomorrow. We have the long-anticipated First Communion for Esme and a full day of Mother’s Day activities. The training and triathlon will have to wait until after the festivities but the good stuff will start right away.