And So It Begins... Again...

It's a Friday in April, and I'm enjoying the few hours of peace that a book and warm weather offer before I go to work. I'm reading about Churchill, and even though the second World War hasn't begun yet [though Churchill can see it coming], I'm already blown away by the man himself and the life he lead. Truly remarkable what courage and perseverance can achieve. But we'll leave Churchill, the prospect of work, and even [regrettably] the warm weather for now. There are more pressing issues on the horizon.

The entire Rookie Triathlon, as we often mention, takes less time to complete than the first leg of an Ironman [unless you're Andy Potts]. It is by no means a race of endurance. Not even close. It is not a race that allows you to find your legs, to find a rhythm, to warm up and ease into your pace. In fact, it's the complete opposite. It's incredibly high heart-rate the entire way. If you feel like vomiting, you're pacing yourself correctly, only maybe you're not going quite hard enough because you haven't dry-heaved yet. That kind of race.

Normally this is the first [maybe second] race of the season for both Joe and I. But, true to the cheater he is, Joe's year is already well under way. Even though it's only April, he's already qualified for the Boston Marathon, and since that wasn't enough, he's raced two half-Ironmans, capping his most recent 70.3 with a 1:35 half-marathon. Not too shabby.

On the other hand, the Rookie will be my first race of '11, and though I've been spinning fairly regularly, my running [though my ankle is finally healthy for the first time in six months] and swimming are well behind where I'd like them to be. I've been sick for the past few days [my breathing especially tight], and I've felt the desire to sleep as much as Tess does. But on Sunday, none of that matters. You don't need six months [or even six weeks] to train for this race. You just need to go hard, and then hold on.

This race doesn't have quite the build-up of last year's [where Joe and I were racing in the same wave], but it should still be a good, close and intense contest, with the winner offering the loser a few gratuitous pointers, and the loser talking about how they flatted six times on the bike.

Joe: How'd you feel on the bike?

Ed: Not too bad. It's a shame I flatted six times.

Joe: You flatted six times?

Ed: Yeah. I'd say it probably cost me about a minute and forty seconds.

Joe: Funny. Because my bike split was a minute and thirty-nine seconds faster than yours.

Ed: Tell me about it. Imagine how much closer it would have been if I hadn't flatted that many times.

Joe: You're an idiot.

I'm excited that's it here again.

But it's still only Friday. I'm going to go back to bed, read about Churchill, and then get a nap before work and try and kick this bug I've been carrying. I'm hoping if I yell loud enough at the book, Churchill's colleagues will heed his warnings about the threat Hitler's Germany poses. We'll see how it goes.