17 juneathon - R A C E

I love suffering from Adult Onset Athletics. Today I had the pleasure of racing with the elite of Dutch triathlon at the national championships, and thank goodness they all beat me. Well, except for my teammate who dropped out during the bike [and another gal who missed a timing strip, and the several who DNS'd].   I finished last, with pride.   While I went around the course in last or near last, I didn't finish last. That's because I didn't quit.  I had the strength to keep my eye on the prize - a wonderful day - and kept moving forward.  At 48, and a relative new comer to the sport, I consistently remind myself to enjoy the day and admire the high level of competition (and beautiful bodies) (wow!).

This was a sprint triathlon. I swam 750 meters. Actually I probably swam further since I cannot swim in a straight line unless there are lines painted on the pool floor and lane dividers.  The water was very cold with no visibility. Just as well. I have been in the pool once this year, and once in my wetsuit for several minutes in the North Sea.  Shame on me.  I muscled through it.

Next, five rounds on the bike for 20 km.  I had moments of speed and moments of utter silliness. Like when I turned too soon - after the second round - towards the transition zone.  I was kindly instructed to keep going.

I need to read the race instructions more carefully. I noticed well into the race there were packs of riders drafting.  Yes, this was a draft legal race.  When I sat in with a group, I was promptly instructed by one of the jurors that you can only draft with people in the same round as you. Well, I was riding last. Too bad for me.  Having to remove my aerobars at the bike inspection should have been my first clue.  Mine are such that they resemble spears.   I coped.

Last was a cute little five km run.  After the first lap (of five) I followed the person in front of me straight to the finish line. I was a little confused to run into a pen. Looking at my watch I realised something was seriously wrong. total distance, 21 km. (I was running my watch continually from the start of the bike.)  ha ha ha. The same volunteer who helped me out of my bike mistake started laughing and told me I had just made the same mistake again. He gave me a big hug and sent me back out the course to keep going. That sucked.  I gave up about 30 seconds to a woman I could have (and almost) caught. I held a comfortable pace and I think I ran in about 32 minutes.  The results will be up later.  I managed to completely forget to turn off my watch at the finish. So the last lap includes 90 km an hour when we zipped off in the car.

Today was a simply enjoyable day.  To my further delight, I saw (and spoke to) people I know - even thought the race was 2 1/2 hours away.

Nutrition - fine. Ate a good breakfast (bacon and eggs), a ham sandwich en route, lots of water, a bottle of gatorade pre race and about half a bottle during the race. I didn't have much of an appetite, and the race was too short to be overly concerned with nutrition. Maybe some gel would have been good. But I forgot to bring it with me on the bike and elected not to take one on the run. The weather was overcast, partly sunny, kinda cool, and definitely windy. I took the time to put on my riding coat since I was cold coming out the water. But I didn't need it. Next time, be cold.

no over 45 category!
swim
bike
after bike
run
total

D35+

00:21:43

00:50:39

01:12:22

00:32:23

01:44:44

19 Juneathon Zandvoort Tri - Run Bike & Run

Zandvoort Tri - Bike & Run at Garmin Connect - Details

I had a great day on Sunday and thoroughly enjoyed the event. I finished in under three hours, which was faster than I expected. The swim was cancelled due to high seas, so we ran an extra bit in the beginning.

I'll come back with a more detailed race report soon. Gotta meet my Monday first.

18 ready steady... go!

I've spent the whole day getting ready for tomorrow. Including a short virtual ride on tomorrow's course (an old formula 1 race track) and a short run. (30 min ride, 15 min run)

this is the first olympic distance tri I've attempted. I'm excited about it. The three tri's I've completed before were sprint distances. 

Tomorrow is 1km in the sea, 40 km on the bike followed by a 10k run.

The race director indicated that the lifeguards will make the call whether to swim. The seas are predicted to be 6 to 10 feet with very high winds. So if it's not safe, it will be a run-bike-run. I'd rather swim though! I'm packing both warm clothes (if it rains) and warm-weather clothes (if it's sunny). today it has rained and gusted and thundered. And the sun came out too. Pure Dutch weather.

I'm taking the train north since my H needs the car to get my younger son to a tennis tournament and then sailing in the afternoon. It will be a bit of an adventure. But my start's at 13h, so I have plenty of time. The train is only an hour and drops me a ten minute walk from the course.

I've got my food planned, my kit backed, my bike ready. My garmin programmed. I tried to eat and drink enough today. and now it's time to go to bed.

I put on a new Livestrong wrist band tonight. I related to it in a new way.

Zandvoort Quarter Triathlon

How did June get here so quickly!  I will race my first Olympic distance triathlon on Sunday, 19 June in Zandvoort.

The course looks pretty interesting to me. I like swimming in the sea much more than swimming in a pool.

 And the bike course is on a motor raceway. With banked turns. Cool.

Reading websites in Dutch is a pain. Sorry, but it is. So I'm collecting bits as I read and translate, in preparation for the race.  Here's the tide table. 

Starting Times

10:30 hours	Eighth triathlon Seniors, Masters (40 +) and Trios Short Run-Bike-Run
11:30 hours	Trio's triathlon and quarter Seniors Long Run-Bike-Run
13:00 hours	Triathlon Quarter Masters (40 +)

1/4  triathlon: swim 1000 meters, 40 km. cycling and 10 km. run

13.00 uur	Start ¼ triathlon masters
13.10 uur	Finish 1e zwemmer
13.30 uur	Finish laatste zwemmer
14.10 uur	Finish 1e fietser
15.00 uur	Finish laatste fietser
14.40 uur	Finish 1e loper
16.15 uur	Finish laatste loper

Transition demo. Ha ha ha ha.

29 Jan. Saturday

I selected my first A race of the 2011 triathlon season.  Antwerp 70.3 on Sunday, 24 July.
 
I'm very excited about this race. I'm planning a second half iron race in September.  Either provence or koln. I have to look at my family, budget, and work schedule before deciding.

Today was a restful day. I got teased by my son this morning for reading a tri training book with my breakfast.

Exercise today: dog walk under an ice blue sky.

Best of all, my boys will be running with me on 13 March. Small guy 2.5 km, bigger guy 5 km.  Me, half-marathon.

Bustinskin Middle Distance Weymouth, UK 26/09/2010

Hats off to race director Mark Steen and his fabulous crew. They put on a great race. This was my first attempt at a middle distance triathlon, returning to the sport after five years of idleness.  I had a great time and gave it my best shot. Life lesson from this race? I can try and fail and not feel like I failed.

After completing the 1.9km swim, I finished more than half the 90 km bike course before climbing in the van. The hills were more than I could do this time, and I threw in the towel after cycling 55 km. The long climbs were so tough for me that I walked some of them. The screaming down hills were unnerving. I reached a maximum speed of 55 km/hr several times.

What did me in finally however was the road traffic -too many speeding cars and caravans-plus a healthy fear of the very steep descent that awaited me near the end of the ride - 17 percent downhill, ending in a curve to the left. I stopped racing when I had had enough. (My friend Judy quipped, She who fights and runs away lives to fight another day.)


Before riding on a course like this again, I will have better bike handling skills and hill training. Navigating the course was made more difficult by the traffic traveling on the left side of the road. Sometimes I had to come to a complete stop at intersections because I just couldn't predict from which direction the cars would be coming.


The good news is that I did the whole 1.9 km swim and enjoyed it. I was not last out of the water. There were five behind me. I was really cold all day, even with the coat I borrowed. The wind chill factor put the air temperature at freezing (32 degrees F).


Clothes, equipment, nutrition all were good. I was nauseous on the end of the bike ride. But I feel really proud of my effort, particularly because I DID NOT vomit. Other competitors' race reports proclaim the course as amongst the most difficult ever. blah blah blah. They vomited. In the water, on the bike and on the run too.


I feel a mixture of pride and disappointment. However, reading other race reports, this course is considered among the most difficult in the world, and I give myself high marks for the willingness to take it on. The views of the Isle of Portland were memorable, and I did my very best on a tough course under tough conditions.


At the bed & breakfast I met a couple other competitors, which was simply great. Of the three of us, only one finished the whole course. I met a lot of other nice people during the day. There was another woman my age who climbed in the truck with me. She was very nice. And I followed the progress of a third woman who completed the bike course, but missed the time cut off for starting the run by three minutes. And a woman collapsed and lost consciousness on the run. She did not eat during the race and apparently ended up hypoglycemic.


My family also had a great time. The race was located at the Olympic Sailing Center in Weymouth. They rented a boat on Sunday while I was racing. And afterwards we visited a real pirate cemetery.  On the way home, we stopped at Stonehenge. The ferry from Holland to Harwick was great - and the chunnel a very interesting & efficient way to travel home. I particularly liked having a celebratory meal in Calais - French beef stew with chocolate crepes for dessert!  In all, a great weekend and a tough race to finish the season.

Thanks for reading this far. The long, maudlin version is below. 

Start where you are: I am a beginner, with a little experience in both triathlons and running. No experience in bike racing. The Weymouth course is reputed to be more difficult than most. The other folks I talked with were surprised that I had chosen this race for my first try at a middle distance race and shook their heads.  I am of two minds about this – having no prior experience, I had no way to evaluate whether it was a “reasonable” first choice.  Maybe this ignorance is what allows me to try something really big and difficult: fearlessness in its purest form.  If I don’t try something because I think I can’t finish it, then perhaps I’ve missed the point entirely.  

I count the race as a success because I got to the starting line healthy and fit, did my best, and raced injury-free.   On the other hand, it hardly needs saying that one of my goals was to finish. On reflection, my training plan served me well. I trained as much as I could absorb.  I've gathered my thoughts on what I learned. I'll post those next. But first, the gory details. 

The Swim. The race started before dawn.  The strong NW wind brought the temperature down to freezing.   It takes a leap of faith to enter the water in the dark and swim away from the safety of shore.   On the way out, the water “bounced” in the head wind.  The cold water made it difficult to breathe at first. Like many others, I stopped and sat up in the water to catch my breath.  When I stopped choking, I continued swimming and looked ahead for someone to draft behind.   This gave me a chance to collect my thoughts and find my stroke.   I saw someone ahead who had the worst swim form I’ve ever seen. That gave me confidence too, thinking to myself, “If he can do it, so can I.”   Unfortunately, he was too slow for me to continue drafting. I kept bumping his feet. And he wasn’t particularly good at sighting the turn buoy and was going off course.  So I passed him and swam by myself.   
Often I felt a little nervous because the kayaks often were quite distant from me and checking on other swimmers. I saw quite a few in distress.  But I just put my head down and kept going. Bilateral breathing was quite useful since on the way out, the chop made right-sided breathing impossible. At one point, I inhaled a wave and had a pretty good choking fit. But that passed and I kept swimming.


I followed Mark’s advice to count to four repeatedly. And I used my experience from the North Sea, which was rougher and colder, to just keep on going.  I was glad I trained in conditions similar to the race, that is, open water swims in the North Sea. This experience helped me quite a lot - I knew what to expect.  The water was very clear and after the sun rose, I could see the bottom. I took the time to enjoy the colours in the sky and to be present in the experience.  


On the way back, the waves cut across the course at an angle, making it possible to surf so long as you corrected for the drift right.   When I cleared the turn buoy, one of the kayak guys told me how much time had passed and how many swimmers were behind me.  He commented that my strokes were really looking pretty good - that gave me a boost.

“Out and back” made the distance seem shorter than the straight line along the coast that I swam in practice.  I finished within the one hour time limit and ahead of five others (out of about 85 swimmers).

The bike:  When I drove the course on Saturday, I saw that it was probably beyond my current abilities.  Apart from the distance, which I had never ridden in training, the hills were quite intense. I had the thought that there was no way I would be able to do the course within the five-hour time limit. Leading up to the race, I was confident (perhaps over-confident) that I could do the course. When I saw it though,  I felt like bolting. I said nothing about my doubts. When we talked after the race, my husband told me that he shared my view. He didn’t say anything before hand to avoid discouraging me. 

view from top of Isle of Portland

Anyway, I bravely mounted my steed and rode to do battle.  The first hill shot my heart rate through the roof, into the red zone, but I recovered and kept on. 

I am really proud of my effort and how far I got, particularly the next day when we drove around, covering parts of the course again - I couldn’t believe I had ridden it.  Photos of other people’s races can only be as tedious as looking at photos of other people’s grandchildren. But in case you’re curious, here.  Of course, the pictures can’t do justice to the elevation changes. But the look on the faces of the athletes says it all.

Bike Route Hill Profile

The race marshals played leap-frog with me. They had motorbikes and would wait for me to pass, check in with me, and then zoom ahead another five kilometers or so and wait. They were great, offering words of encouragement, big smiles and Thumbs Up!  

There was a cold headwind from the North throughout the race. I was very cold. My feet were numb.  My nose ran continuously, and my eyes watered from the wind.  As the day progressed, I felt fairly nauseous. On one downhill section, I nearly vomited.  I think it was from fear. I never went so fast on my bike before this day.    I drank and ate at the rate I had planned. I was so cold I never felt thirsty.  I think I’m happy with the nutrition - I used Hammer products from a German distributor.  I practiced some long rides with the endurance formula. I’m not sure I really like it.  But I think nearly any product would have upset my stomach on race day.  

Done. I left the course when I had had enough, about 20 minutes before the guys trailing me in the wagon were going to tell me time was up (at 13:00).  I debated with myself for a long time and used every trick I could think of to get up the hills and to handle the downhill sections with strength and courage. I counted fence posts, imagined the scooters pulling me uphill, thought of cyclists denied the opportunity to race because they had been killed training, thought of the suffering of young girls around the world. I yelled with each push. I thought about the fact that there’s always more even when the body’s telling the mind to stop. I reminded myself I wanted to finish, that I could do it, and then, I just didn’t want to be in the race anymore. And I stopped behind the truck when they pulled over to pick up another sign.

What wore me down finally was the amount and speed of the traffic on the course. With a large number of campers passing me, I was afraid I was going to get clipped, particularly because I was riding alone. I was also worried about my ability to handle the 17 percent descent that still lay ahead of me. The hill ended in a fairly sharp turn, making it even more difficult. I had practiced nothing like it.  

And I was simply tired of the hills - one more very long climb remained. Also, the cars traveling on the left side of the road in the UK increased the degree of difficulty for me. I didn’t have the instinctive confidence that I needed in order to cross intersections and make turns safely. It was hard to tell in a split second in which direction danger lay. So when I felt unsafe, I lost the will to continue.
The truck drove the remaining 30 km as they picked up the race signs and tailed the other stragglers.  Looking at the last hill I felt like I had made the right decision.  The medic made me a hot drink with black currant juice. The driver is training for the Ironman in Canada next August. We traded stories. I felt good.

The truck then picked up another woman my age. She was in great spirits and invited me to run together when we got back to the transition zone.  I was up for it, albeit reluctantly, since I had already adjusted my mind-set to being “Done.”  However, when we got caught in a traffic snarl, she hopped out of the truck to walk back.  When the traffic cleared, we passed her.  By the time we met up at the transition zone, we had both found our waiting families and our enthusiasm for heading out on a difficult run had cooled.
 
I turned in my chip and collected my stuff. I felt proud of the swim and disappointed with the ride, even though I gave it my best effort.  When the announcement came that the time limit had expired, my younger son said my stuff in the transition zone looked a little lonely with my shoes lined up waiting for me to return.  I had a hard time sitting in the cafeteria, watching all the finishers eating lunch. They  were sporting new hooded sweatshirts with the word Finisher across the chest in big orange letters.   (My appetite didn't return for several hours.)

Here is a link to what the bike looked like on my Garmin. The Zero Cadence marks the point where I climbed in the van. My watch kept running as we drove the remainder of the course.

The next installment will be lessons learned.  

Beach Challenge. Yup.

This was the first time I tried an Olympic distance triathlon. And it was an “off-road” or cross-country event, which is unique. I had a lot of fun – I am feeling better about the event as time goes on. (time heals all wounds?)  But I was plagued by a huge number of negative thoughts during the event itself. My mantra was “I won’t quit yet.”  As it turned out, I placed second in my age group (W +45) (there were only two women in this category, including me).  I give myself credit for going out there and trying something new. I had fun and tried my best – persevering despite wanting to quit.  (My 15-year-old son cheered me on, repeatedly telling my husband, his dad, that “Mom’s bad-ass”, a compliment of the highest order).  Only 14 women and 85 men registered for the long course (there was a short course too, with a 300m swim for the chickens).

Swim: The waves in the North Sea were enormous. The lifeguards were patrolling with the “Dangerous Seas” sign to keep the public out of the water.  I kept hoping they’d cancel the race.  No chance.  I went for a warm-up swim out towards the first buoy, saw that others were under-shooting the buoy due to the current, and planned accordingly (swim to the right, rather than straight at it). The water was a great temperature and I actually liked the swim once I remembered how to breathe (the first 30 seconds of the leg were breathless and disorganized).  

Like many others, I swam nearly the whole course in breast stroke, finding the crawl too difficult in the steep chop. Sometimes the water had a washing machine action.  I was happier under the water, going under the waves breaking over me, rather than turning my face into the wind and the waves.  At some point, I remembered I had legs that I could use to swim too.  I passed another swimmer, and felt happy to see the rescue kayak shadowing me and the others in the back of the pack. 

 The wind was against the current, which was itself very strong.   I covered the distance in under 40 minutes (from beach start to chip – pad at the transition zone), so I was pleased with my time. Some of my speed is attributable to the strong south-bound current. I felt strong and comfortable in the water, and managed to keep the water out of my nose and mouth. Well, most of it anyhow.  I liked my rental wet-suit – an xterra – so now I will go shopping for something to use in my September event.  

Bike: I used a million-year-old hybrid mountain bike for the event, which sank in the sand. Part of the course was along the sea in the hard pack at low tide.  Then the course went up into the hills in the dunes, sometimes on the path, sometimes in very soft dirt through brambles (particularly on the down-hill bits). 

Or you had to carry the bike up 20 or 30 stairs to the top of another hill and then ride down in the dirt.  Some tracks were sandy gravel.  I was very cautious to avoid injury and kept reminding myself I was in it for the fun.  I got lapped by the other competitors (it was the Dutch off-road national championship).  Repeatedly, I stepped out of the way to let folks pass me. Most said thank you.

I kept looking for a place to quit the race. I had to walk my bike on portions of the beach track since there was so much soft sand and I had the wrong (knobby) tires, rather than the recommended slicks or semi-slicks. And I have no experience in off-road bike handling.  It’s nothing like leaning onto my aero-bars and flying smoothly down the road. Nothing at all in common, except for perhaps the wheels and pedals.  Anyway, needless to say, I worked very hard – too hard. And never found a turn-off place to quit. (remember the mantra – “not yet. You can quit later, but not now. Keep moving forward”).   Looking back, I want a new bike & to try it again. It was a blast.

However, in the middle of it, while on the bike, I decided I had to quit everything: the event, the middle distance next month. Training. Everything.  (I’m too fat, too slow… I’ll never be ready for September. This is awful.) Thankfully, there was no place to turn out.  And I reigned in my thoughts – reminding myself to keep my focus on the here & now, and to just keep moving forward.  And to remember I was out there to have fun. Which I did.    I thanked every volunteer I passed on the course – dozens of them -- and paused at the top of the various hills to admire the view and the beautiful sunset and the fabulous contestants. What a good looking group!  And of course, I immediately felt better at the finish line. Is it really necessary to race with your head attached? The mind is not terribly useful while out there!

Taking in water & food on the bike was really tough. I needed both hands to keep control of the bike.  I imagine that some of the negative thoughts probably could have been avoided with better fueling.    Because of the time limits, the course was modified to direct me and others into the second transition zone instead of a second bike lap (thankfully!). As this was contemplated by the rules, it did not result in a DSQ, However, I realized this only afterwards.  (It’s really difficult to read rules in another language that I don’t understand very well.)  The thought that I’d be a DSQ stung a bit during the race, but I toughed it out and started the run. 

The Run: I started the run on empty – I should have grabbed a gel pack out of my back pocket, but I was out of water and decided to rely on the water and sports drink further up on the course.  I felt (and was) painfully slow. I walked & ran in 30 – 60 second intervals. It took me 45 minutes to run 5 k.   And again, if you were starting the second loop after 9:00 p.m., the course was modified so that you couldn’t run the full 10k.   Which is just as well for me, since I don't think I had the wherewithal to run another 5 k.  The course just naturally guided participants to the finish chute, a pleasant surprise.   

Transitions: I will be faster in September. I admit I didn’t hurry during this race. I felt pretty relaxed (stopping to put on bike gloves, putting my gear away).

I enjoyed the experience socially. One of my colleagues from work was racing – plus a trainer from my gym, and I recognized a lot of folks I swim with at the tri-club. I received a lot of encouragement on the course (as my friends lapped me).  My family was also there. I felt quite happy and ate lots of fruit at the finish line.  We all rode our bikes home afterwards.

I am concerned though that I need to get faster in running or next month I will time-out. With the heart rate training – during my training sessions I walk and run (really, I should call itjog). It’s a little frustrating.  I am happy that the plan now moves into the speed work, and I hope I can develop enough consistent speed to improve my pace.   So, I won’t quit. I will trust the process. During the run, I had difficulty getting my heart rate up into race zone. It was a pretty calm 122 or so.  Out of fuel, I think. 

Injuries: none. My "easy" 500m swim on Sunday felt good – afterwards however, my hips were really stiff. The North Sea wasn't as rough, but the swim wasn't that "easy".  No problems with my left hamstring during the run or afterwards. (I suppose I wasn’t going fast enough to even bother it.)  I have a bit pain in one of my toes on my left foot – I think I got a stress fracture during the April marathon and it’s never completely gone away. It bothers me only when I’m barefoot.  

On the whole, I felt  really good  Monday, which means I probably could have tried harder! But it was a “training race”, so I’m satisfied.

Next Steps: I’ve looked at my training schedule for the next three weeks before the taper period starts. I’ll give it my best.  I had thought my swim would be the weakest link, but I certainly feel more confident after the rescue swim & this event.    And I'll start saving up for an All-Terrain Bike. What a blast. Next year!

W20 Week in Review

“When people see some things as beautiful,
other things become ugly.
When people see some things as good,
other things become bad.”
~Lao Tzu

By the numbers: 
6 hours on the bike:  62 miles
1.5 hours in the pool
3.5 hours running: 12.5 miles
5 hours weight lifting/core/ stretching work outs

one missed swim workout (tempo). 

All workouts completed as Rx'd, within the prescribed heart rate ranges.  Mental discipline is required to follow instructions.  I'm going to trust the coach and do it the way it's written as best I can.

Week 19 starts tomorrow.

 observations: I need more sleep, less coffee. Though coffee is way down! Eating very well will support my training. Why spoil hours of work with less than optimal food.  I have been eating really well.  But Thursday - Saturday felt a little higgedly-piggedly (dis-organised) since I didn't do a second food shopping. But truthfully, I pick well, I am aware of portion size, and I'm tuned into my body. It is says, eat fat, I do. If it says, eat green, I do.  (Post Bike-Swim workout = raisins & liverworst. Not that I recommend mixing them, but that's what looked good to me.)

Work-day Mornings are working very well - I wake easily. I'm enthusiastic to get moving and I get to work clean, happy, on-time, and fed.  Weekend mornings - I hit the snooze button a lot.  I don't give a f*** about going outside my comfort zone at 5: 45 a.m. on a Saturday. I don't care what the alarm is telling me!

Running: felt really nice and relaxed this week. Nothing hurt. I feel the elasticity returning post-marathon (finally).  No body parts on strike. Minor complaints from a toe joint on left foot (only when barefoot).

Evening swims: a little more challenging. They're late at night. And with the change in my rising time, I'm more tired in the evenings.  Q - am I getting something out of group training? (Yes)  Where would they fit in the mornings?   Loading up the weekend with missed workouts is not a particularly good idea (time consuming and tiring).  Swims this week: learned where my head is. Felt what happens when I lift it to see where I am or to breathe.  I practiced rolling to breathe. I learned how to tolerate a lot of water in my nose. I have a pain in my left neck/shoulder area that pinches a nerve. I don't like that.

Rest: I need some. I felt fatigued during the last 30 minutes of my ride today. Maybe a little dehydrated.  However, I'm looking forward to a dawn run on the beach tomorrow with Odie.

Weights:  Easy to float two lift-days around the week based on work schedule. I did not like being away from home even longer Friday night and that was one motivation for skipping the swim practice. (Beware of the couch!)  Before starting this training plan, I had given notice to the gym that I was quitting, in order to save money. But now I have a plan and I'm interested in using it again. But same old dilemma - I like lifting at home - I need some more equipment. Can I save money this way? I need to hit the weights really well to make up for living in a flat country and training for a hilly race.  hmmm.

Core workouts: I think these stretching/rehab workouts are essential and they make me feel good. They're worth the time - generally 20-30 minutes. Foam roller, exercise ball, mat on the floor. Feels nice to be nice to my body.

Weight:  My weight fluctuates by more than 4 lbs this week. Up and down - due no doubt to water - related to soreness, muscle inflammation and so forth.  I'll track my weight, but I am going to feed my need. That's more important, I think.  And when I'm this busy, counting calories in & out is a pain in the ass - too time consuming.  Little voice in my head says, wimp.

I can do this. So, game on.  I'm playing to win.