Still Here

I’m still standin’ – like Scarface, only without as much heavy ordnance.

It’s another beautiful day in Salt Lick Silly, but today you have to look real hard to see the beauty.

gloomy

Gloomy and gray, and raining here – snowing up higher, but it’s a heavy, wet snow. This year Tahoe hasn’t been getting much snow, and what snow we’ve been getting seems to be theirs – heavy, wet stuff that is sticky and slow when the sun shines on it.

This is a 12 hour week, meaning that I have twelve hours of triathlon training to do in addition to, well, you know – life. That’s a lot of training, especially since it means the actual training itself, not “driving to the training, changing clothes, doing the training, taking a break, showering, changing back, driving back to the house or the office” – no, it’s twelve hours of training, which translates into a lot more than twelve hours of effort.

And that sort of thing leaves a fellow feeling tired. And to feel tired like that is one thing; to feel tired like that and look out the window at the above view is very draining.

I didn’t ski much this weekend; I ran for two hours on Saturday morning and then swam, and then skied on Saturday, but the snow was so wet and heavy – and sticky, in the sunshine – that it wasn’t much fun. On Sunday, I am not sure that I ever even left the house; I may have taken the trash out. If so, that’s as far as I went.

Now, when I buy a ski pass, then I ski every day that I can. But this year, between the triathlon training and the less-than-ideal snow conditions, I only have about 25 days on boards, and this will probably be the fewest days that I’ve ever skied in a ski season where I actually lived where I could ski.

(Note to self – never, ever agree to train for a triathlon over ski season again. Never.)

It’s okay; I will live through this. I will get some more skiing done, although not as much as I would like, and I will keep training too. I will probably make it through the Half IM.

I’m vaguely curious as to just what I will do after the Half Ironman. Will I decide to do a full, or will I sell the bike? I don’t really know that I am so constituted as to allow myself anything in between. And I really don’t know which way it will swing; I suspect that it might have something to do with how the Half IM goes, but my first marathon was a death march, yet as I was being dragged away from the finish line, I said to Ethel “You know that I’m going to do another one of these”.

I’m certainly not going to project today what might happen, because, as I look out the window, all I really want to do is climb up under the big faux fur blanket with Ethel and watch Buffy reruns.

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