It all started out with such promise. Long holiday weekend. All of our friends out of town. Massive training on the books. Gorgeous weather in the forecast. This was going to be awesome.
On Wednesday, T finally got the official details of his promotion to Project Manager that we’ve been waiting on forever. I really wanted to go out to celebrate, but I had a pilates class that I couldn’t reschedule, so I talked the boy into having a beer at the pub across the street during my class. (There was quite a lot of arm twisting involved, let me tell you!) Afterward, we went to a great little place for cocktails and small plates. Cheers to the man of the hour:
The next morning, I celebrated the birth of our nation by getting up early to swim 2 miles. (Ugh.) I’d signed up for an open water race at Martha Lake to get some practice in the new wetsuit. I’d never been to Martha Lake, it looked nice (for a city lake):
Since these races tend to be popular with “real” swimmers, I was definitely worried about coming in last. But I tried to shake off the nerves and just do my thing. The start was pretty good for me. I kept pretty calm and only had one panicky moment when the one milers caught us. It was a two loop course, so I focused on a nice easy pace for the first lap so that I could pick up the pace for the second. I was feeling pretty solid but about a quarter of the way through the second lap I noticed that I could feel more water on my scalp than I should and realized my swim cap was creeping backward. I stopped briefly to pull it forward, but a few minutes later it was back again. I swam on, debating if I could just let it go (and then remembered the disastrous swim I’d attempted at the pool when my cap tore in half) or if I should stop. I stopped just in time for it to come off completely. There were two kayaks nearby, so I hung on to one of them while the guy in it tried to put my cap back on for me. It felt like it took forever and the handful of people I’d managed to stay ahead of passed me.
I had to take my goggles off for the cap to go back on, and of course they decided that now was the time for them to leak, despite the fact that they very rarely leak at the pool and had been perfect for the entire swim thus far. I had a few false starts and some help from the other kayaker, then finally got it to wear just one side was leaking. So, I closed that eye and swam as best I could. It super sucked. At this point, I could only see one swimmer (who had missed a buoy and was swimming back toward me to go around it.) Sigh. I shook all of that off and focused on getting this damn swim over with. Oh well, I got a good workout in and confirmed the awesomeness of my new wetsuit.
The rest of the day was nice and laid back. We didn’t have our awesome fireworks hook-up this year, so I did a little research to find a good spot to watch them. I found a little park on top of Queen Anne that was supposed to be a good spot. (Fun fact: it’s the same park where T’s dad got re-married and was one of our early dates.) We left early so that we could get a good spot or find a different place if it didn’t look like it was going to work. But we got there and it was perfect. There were couples and families hanging out and we heard mentions of “Last year, they were right there, etc.” so we figured it was going to be awesome. We set up our camping chairs and enjoyed the view:
But when the fireworks finally started, they’d changed the firing location from last year because it was about 45 degrees from our viewpoint. Directly behind the houses surrounding the park. It was the saddest moment as everyone in the crowded park had to vacate and find someplace else or go home. We had no idea where we’d be able to walk and see them so we just headed home. It was such a bummer. Especially since we got to drive right by them on the Aurora bridge. Super lame.
On Friday, both T and I had to work, but at least I got to work at home. I was feeling really tired and run down and was worried that it was from yesterday’s swim. (Which is a bad sign, considering that in three weeks, I’d need to swim another .4 miles and then do a lot more exercise… ) I missed my long run because I just couldn’t get my butt out the door. Saturday, I woke up feeling like a bus had run over me. This sucked because I had a big ride on my plan, one that was going to let me practice nutrition and generally feel better about my rapidly approaching race. Instead, I spent most of the day in bed except for the trip out to the store to get some cold medicine. Wally was kind enough to keep me company:
After the cold medicine and caffeine, I was feeling better so I was hoping that I could rally for Sunday. But Sunday morning was even worse and I spent another day on the couch trying really hard not to freak out about the training that I’d missed. (This is one of those fun-filled thing where the logical part of your brain argues with the emotional side. It’s crazy making.) So, I’m just going to soldier on and do the best I can to not panic train next week and injure myself or something.