I ran Tuesday night. It was raining. Hard. I packed it in a little early because my shoes and socks got wet. Not just wet, but truly squelchy soggy. There’s nothing worse than wet feet, in my opinion. Actually, there are a lot of worse things. Getting shot. Donald Trump. Soggy sandwiches when you’re really hungry. Global Warming. Pickles… yes, pickles. BUT, I am somewhat particular when it comes to foot comfort; especially as related to socks. Most of my socks are foot-specific (if you’re an athlete, try it out for a while. You will never go back), have been worn less than 40 times, fit near-perfectly, and I prefer merino wool if possible, though bamboo is also acceptable and I’ll tolerate acrylic if it’s a particularly good design. Ragged or threadbare socks are unacceptable. Cotton socks are generally unacceptable unless used as a containment device for foot treatments (for example, to hold a poultice on a blister). Mismatched socks make me cringe and once factored into my decision to end a relationship with someone. My particularity is likely why a minor bit of athletes foot is such a huge issue for me. Anyway… I cut the run a bit short due to wet socks, but I still put in the time.
I also got blown off by someone I was supposed to go out with afterwards.
Wednesday morning I struggled to get out of bed and to the pool. Mornings are hard. I tend to wake up in a bad place. By the time I got my shit together, I knew I would only have about 45 minutes to swim if I was going to be able to catch my 8:15 bus and get to work before 9.
My hierarchy of lane share preference goes: 1 Friendly people because, well, they are friendly. 2 women, because biology compels me I guess?. They also tend to be more friendly. 3 The most intense looking swimmer there because maybe I can ask them for pointers. 4 People who might distract me. Combos work too (i.e. an intense but friendly woman would be pretty much the jackpot).
It was not a great day at the pool. I got there and had to share a lane. There were no friendly looking women and I ended up in a lane with a guy who has a distracting style. He also has a gross 70’s police show mustache and despite him being probably 50 lbs overweight, he’s faster than me. The share didn’t throw me off that much, though, and I wasn’t even really thinking about having gotten the run around from the woman I was going to meet last night. It was just not that good of a day in the pool.
I did my warmup. I did some basic drills. I miscounted on my closing 500 and only did 450.
Of all the people I know who have done a full Ironman, the first one I met who I knew they were an iron triathlete told me something about training:
“You aren’t going to win every workout. Sometimes you’re going to have a bad one. Sometimes you are going to pedal in squares or you’ll never settle into a rhythm on a run or your splits will be going in the wrong direction. Don’t worry about it. It won’t always feel like you’re making progress but just remember that you’re doing what you need to do. Put the work in, and trust that when the time comes, it will all come together. Plus, normally after a bad workout, the next time I come back to that discipline I absolutely kill my workout.”
I guess I’ll kill it next time I run (Saturday, with the club, I’m nervous), AND next time I swim (probably Sunday).
Wednesday’s social plans didn’t work out either. I don’t even really remember how to date anyway, and am not sure I have the time or mental space to do it right now or that I’m a good person for anyone else. I’m not sure I ever DID know how in the first place. I DO know where this rabbit-hole leads, though, so enough of that…