Well-Fed, Cozy, Sleepy

It snowed, sleeted, and rained all day in Washington, DC. It was cold and nasty -- actually the perfect conditions for snuggling up at home in flannel pajamas and a favorite old sweatshirt, while eating hot soup.

That's exactly the scenario I fantasized about all day. I woke up early to get a frigid 5-mile run in, before I had to rush into the office to close a story, update the blog multiple times (not this one, obviously...the one I write at work), and report another article for the daily report. By 3 p.m., when I finally had time to get some lunch in between all the editing, the white, fluffy flakes had morphed into an icy, torrential downpour. Brrr.

By 4 p.m. I started audibly whining about going to swim practice. The mere thought of jumping into the water had me shivering in my cubicle. I made three phone calls to the YMCA to make sure they weren't closing early -- it was the one time in the past four years that there was remotely bad weather and it actually stayed open. I felt like a kid who went to bed expecting a snow day and awoke to no white stuff at all.

Thanks to the tough love of my good friend, coworker, and fellow triathlete Kelly, we made it to practice. And, as usual, once I got myself in the pool, it wasn't so bad. My thoughts had turned pretty quickly to the leftover chicken enchilada waiting for me at home. Getting through the last half...a somewhat tedious set of 300s that included a lot of backstroke...I began visualizing myself eating the enchilada, in my flannel pajamas and my favorite old sweatshirt.

And now here I am. Home at last. Flannel pajamas? Check. Favorite old sweatshirt? Check. Chicken enchilada? It's in my belly.

Well-fed, cozy, sleepy. Finally.

Well-Fed, Cozy, Sleepy

Um, Has Anybody Seen My Goggles?

I'm trying to get my triathlon groove back. Let me just say that I always find it far easier to get back into marathon-training mode, but the thought of the next few months of tri-training has me a little flustered. Maybe it's all the gear involved. It all takes a lot of thought and preparation and planning, unlike running, which only requires some key pieces of clothing, a road, and a good pair of shoes.

This morning I woke up late, but was still determined to get a 50-minute run in before work. If I don't establish a routine now, before the requirement of showing up at an office everyday is over, it will be degrees more difficult to motivate when that big part of my schedule is dropped from the equation.

So, off I went, running up Massachusetts Avenue. Let me just say that I realize I'm not fat, but for those of you who understand the difference between "racing weight" and, uh, your "other weight," you'll appreciate how I felt this morning. It was like hauling another me up the hill. And that wasn't very encouraging.

But I soldiered on and made it to the National Cathedral before heading back down good-old Mass. Ave. to get ready for work.

As I rushed to get dressed, now pushing the acceptable limit of lateness at our office--which, truth be told, is already quite generous--I remembered that swim practice begins again tonight.

Now, it's been so long since I last went to swim practice that I couldn't remember where I had thrown my swim suit, cap, and goggles so that I could pack them up for tonight. I mean, really? It's been so long that I can't find my gear...in a ONE BEDROOM APARTMENT!? Yeah, this is going to be fun tonight, I can already tell.

So, after discovering my swim suit in the bottom of a drawer and a cap in what I call my "bag of triathlon crap," I still couldn't find my favorite pair of goggles. They are missing. So I tossed a back-up pair that I found in the "bag of triathlon crap" into my backpack and scurried out the door.

I made it to work with negative minutes to spare.

If practice tonight requires even a fraction of the effort that it took to prepare for it, I realize that I'm in big trouble.

Um, Has Anybody Seen My Goggles?