Peter Vu's Ironman Blog - Vineman 7/31/10

It's been two weekends since I did the Boston Half-Marathon on October 9, 2011. Given my lack of training at HBS, I was very happy with my 1:50 time. Raised $500 for cancer too! And this all occurred around the time of Steve Jobs' death.

The race was a constant reminder to me that I should always be grateful that I can train and run despite how hard it is out there on the course. I loved every minute of it and even though it was tough around mile 11, crossing the finish line made it that much sweeter. I don't know how much time I will have next semester to train, but I hope to do another triathlon (something I haven't done in a while). I do feel alive out there when I'm racing!!!

Brian Morrison's (one of my teammates this past season) dad passed away earlier this week from myeloma cancer.  I can't say enough good words about Brian, who taught me how to bike better and offered encouraging words on numerous rides when I felt I had nothing more to give. His loss is my loss and our team's loss.

While training for an Ironman can be a very selfish goal, I was glad that I did it with Team In Training. Hopefully, someday, the money we raised will lead to a cure.

"Memento mori" - something that I learned in art history class and still resonates with me today.

I will surely be raising a glass to you sir, next Saturday.

This e-mail via Zen Habits on passion struck a chord today.

“You need to be exposed to many things,” she told me. “You should expose yourself even though you might not know if you’ll be interested.”

When you find something that catches your attention: follow-up; see if it sticks.

In other words, discovering passion requires a dedication to unstructured exploration. You have to leave large swathes of free time in your schedule (a technique I call underscheduling), and fill this time with the exploration of things that might be interesting. Of equal importance, when something catches your attention you must leverage your free time to aggressively follow up.

While I'm toiling away on my graduate school applications, work and volunteering, I'm also constantly thinking about what's next for me...

"What will you do after the Ironman?"

I will not check the glycemic index. Maybe try p90x. Read something hard like "Ulysses".

Yup. Yup. Yup.

Here's Rachel Chai's post-race description of me on the run.

Peter, sometimes smiling and sometimes so focused I thought the runner in front of him would catch fire

Rachel, those smiles were for you, Pikachu and the guy running in the Scottish kilt.

Do one thing that scares you every day. It's a hackneyed epigram, but sometimes the most pithy statements mean the most. 

Although most people say you should write your post-race report immediately after so that you can capture the details more vividly, I intentionally demurred with the hopes that I could take a step back and assess the overall scope of this journey. I must admit that two weeks later, it's still hard to encapsulate the effect of this event on my life, but I have had some flashes where I ask myself: did I really just do that? Not in an arrogant way, but more in a matter of fact manner. I may be suffering from PIDS (Post Ironman Depression Syndrome), but my "normal life" has commenced. Anyhow, please read below for my post-race report. As my veteran teammate Carlos Pineda so aptly prefaced in his post-race report last year, please "grab a seat, a refreshment, maybe some popcorn because this is bit of a lengthy post".

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Saturday, July 31, 2010. 3:30AM. (alarm sounding and phone ringing). The hotel gives us a courtesy wake-up call to make sure Dash, my teammate, and I are awake. It's Saturday morning, and we are up 3 hours before the start of our swim wave at 6:30AM. I fell asleep probably around 10PM the night before, receiving only 5.5 hours of sleep (Cheri, don't read this).  It does not sound terrible, but it might sound inadequate prior to an IRONMAN triathlon.

Actually, I am alert and focused on what needed to be done this morning to get me to the finish line. Dash and I have laid out all our gear and nutrition the night before, so we proceed to follow our coach-prepared routine for race morning.

Change into triathlon gear, apply sunscreen and body glide, make Quakers instant oatmeal, brew Starbucks Via medium strength coffee, eat, eat some more (banana), grab our chilled sports drinks (all 6 of them), triplecheck our transition bags, and head out the door while munching on a Clifbar.

There is so much stuff to carry in our 3 transition bags that I have to stop a couple times to readjust the bag's handles on my tired forearms. We meet up with the rest of the team in the Hilton hotel lobby. Everyone seems a bit more subdued than earlier in the week (we had arrived at the hotel on Wednesday evening in order to soak in the environment, register, and not have to worry about arriving late), an observation that probably resulted from people's focus on what they were going to do today. People are listening to their iPods, committing to some small talk or lounging around the lobby. The coaches herd us around 4:30AM and get us to our shuttles, which will drive us to the starting line about 20 minutes away.

It is still pitch black out, and Sonoma appears shapeless to me as I gaze out the bus window. In a few hours, I will be perusing its 140.6 miles of river, potholes, and hills. I try to not think about anything and just focus on the task at hand, not letting any negative thoughts enter my mind.

We make a left turn by the Safeway's, and we are instantly at the street leading to the start of swim in the Russian River. I drop off my run and bike special needs bags with the race-designated cars and make my way to the U-Haul truck, which holds our transported bikes. Upon receipt of my bike, I switch it to a lower gear so that after my swim I can climb up the hill without falling.

The swim to bike transition area is always a surreal sight to behold. Hundreds of bodies in rapid, clockwork motion - setting your bike on the transition rack, unpacking your wetsuit and biking essentials, and double-checking everything to make sure you are ready to go when the race starts. Put 3 mixed sports drinks on the bike and open the caps. Check. Put 2 Powerbars in the Bento Box - Banana Berry for the 1st hour because it tastes better and Caramel Cookie for the 2nd hour to switch it up. Check. Put helmet on the bike for faster transition time. Check. Put spray-on sunscreen in front of your transition area so you don't forget to spray it on after the swim and burn up out there. Check.


After setting up, I begin munching on another PowerBar and sipping on Gatorade (coaches want us to do this an hour before the race). I find a volunteer and have her write my number, #61, on my arm for easy identification from spectators, photographers and race officials. I also have her write "Patience" on my left forearm - a shout out to my former French teammate and previous year Vineman finisher, Marie Schneider, who provided me with some encouraging words the day before. The two words I want to remind myself throughout today when things get rough and painful are "patience" and "breathe".

After using the restroom, a pre-race must for all apparent reasons, I head back to the transition area to change into my wetsuit. Gametime is only 30 minutes away. Coach Brad zips me up and ties my wetsuit knot. I grab my grey swimming cap, which denotes which wave I will start in, and my black swimming goggles and head to the swim start. Because of my age, I am packed into the 34 and Under / Elite wave. Intimidating, but kind of cool nevertheless.


I walk over the swimming platform so that it will register my timing chip. Then, I take a short, warm-up swim for 15 yards in the river to prime the wetsuit - the river water immediately enters my wetsuit when I jump in and the wetsuit constricts. 6:25AM. A bit chilly, 50ish degrees. The water temperature is slightly warmer, perfect for the race. The swim start is an in-water start so we all are wading around in the river prior to the race. I see a couple TNT people (Louis Kwan and Robin Hall) and head towards them. 3 minutes away. Then it hits me.

I am about to do an IRONMAN swim - 2.4 miles. It's a surreal thought, but something I know I should be prepared for given all my training. I tell myself that no matter what happens, today "I am going to be an IRONMAN". Whatever it takes, I will get to that finish line. Swim, bike, run, walk, crawl...GET IT DONE. I remember Emily Conlon's thoughts on her IRONMAN race in Idaho a month before about the starting line.

Emily: "Once you make it the starting line, you have already won."

I remember the first day I signed up for this adventure, and how I thought I would never get here. Well, I'm here and in 2 minutes, I will have to start swimming. There's really no turning back. Lastly, I think about all the people who supported me along the way and especially the honorees: Kyle Garlet and Gordie Lat. If they can attempt to do an IRONMAN after surviving cancer and a heart transplant, there is nothing that I can complain about.


I forget to take 2 Endurolyte salt pills before my swim. First adversity of the day. I compartmentalize and toss that thought away.

3, 2, 1...and we're off. It's a mad frenzy. The speed demons in front and the age groupers (muoi) towards the back. I push off the rocks I am standing on and now I am horizontal, trying to find my stroke and space to swim in. Someone swims over me, people grab my feet unintentionally. We are like sardines in a barrel. More adversity - forget and move on. My heart is beating fast, but not overboard. I concentrate on gliding and making sure I have long arm strokes - just as the coaches have mentioned all season long. I try not to use my legs, kicking lightly, to save them for the bike and the run, and because I do not want to start cramping up through the swim - a disaster if it were to happen. Salt pills would have helped. I keep swimming (thanks Dyanna) and I pass under one bridge and then another, keeping the buoys on my left hand side the whole time. I am sighting pretty well and not swimming in a zig zag line as occurred in the Long Beach marina a few weeks ago. I cannot seem to fully extend my left arm, maybe because of the wetsuit or because my body is not warmed up yet. More adversity - patience and breathe, it will get easier later I remind myself. I see some people walking on the shallow parts of the river instead of swimming. I tell myself that I will NOT do that this early in the race. 0.6 miles in, I see the turnaround buoy and head back. 1/4 of this swim done. As I am swimming back, someone hits my goggles and dislodges the right side for a bit. I decide whether to stop and realign it or keep swimming in hopes that it will realign itself. I choose the latter. We swim all the way back to where we start the race - 1.2 miles and our first loop done. Now, we have to do it all over again.


By this time, my left shoulder has loosened up. I swim the next 0.6 miles at a measured pace, reminding myself that I have a strategy today "maintain on the swim, go slow on the bike, keep it steady on the run, and hammer the last 10K". If I try to crush the swim right now, I will probably pay for it on the bike and run. We make it to the turnaround point and I know that I am almost done. I am consciously aware of how my legs are moving as I try to continue kicking lightly. After passing under the bridges, I see the swim finish and hear the people cheering. I swim until my hand touches the solid, prickly gravel of the river and pop out of the water. I am done with an Ironman swim! I run over the swim finish mat around 1:38 (shaving more than 10 minutes from my half Ironman swim split time in April - a goal of mine) and slowly run to the swim/bike transition.  When I get there, there are wetsuit strippers, volunteers who help take off your wetsuit. One of them yells at me to sit down as she pulls off my wetsuit. I grab my inside-out wetsuit and look for my bike.


When I get to my transition area, I make sure to put my bike helmet on first so I do not get a penalty and then take my time putting the rest of the gear on. There is no point in rushing because saving a couple minutes in the span of a 13 to 14 hour day is trivial. I quickly spray on some sunscreen and then pack all my swimming gear into the transition bag to be returned to me later at the finish line. I roll my bike out of the transition area for about 300 feet and then mount at the mounting line. Thankfully, I was able to switch my bike gear to a lower gear because some people who did not had trouble getting up the initial hill. Thanks coaches!


For the first several miles, I get used to sitting in the saddle and start taking in my first bottle of nutrition. One of the main things about surviving through an IRONMAN is your nutrition. One sports drink every hour is the rule. If you miss one hour, you throw off your nutrition and do not get it back. The main goal is to drink consistently on the bike to set you up for the run later. I am also starting to take in 2 salt pills (loaded with Potassium and electrolytes) every hour now too to help with the heat.


At mile 5, we go down a hill and face a sharp turn, where you have to really slow down or you can fall. I have my arm warmers on today because it is still 50+ degrees out and biking down descents at 25+ mph can get quite chilly really fast.

There is one thing that had been bugging me for the past several weeks, and it is getting a flat tire or having a mechanical issue on the bike. You can control the swim and your run, but your bike and the Sonoma roads can have a mind of their own. I am so worried that an unexpected pothole could jeopardize my day. However, I remind myself on raceday to not focus on those silly thoughts, make sure you ride around the "sketchy" areas, and slow down going around hairpin turns. I am prepared and nothing is going to stop me. If I get a flat tire, I will change it. If my chain comes loose, I will get off my bike and readjust it. Those positive thoughts help restore my mental well-being and provide me with confidence throughout the day. Stay mentally tough.

I feel okay for the first 15-20 miles. I know that the initial stages will not feel fantastic because my body needs some time to warm up. Around mile 34, I stop to use the restroom instead of deciding to hold it. It does not sound like a big decision, but small decisions throughout the day can really benefit you. You have to take care of yourself out there, or you will pay later.

I settle in afterwards, maintaining a steady rhythm. A few faster bikers pass me here and there, but I keep my ego in check and try not to catch up as the coaches directed. That extra energy to catch the other bikers will kill you on the run. And the whole goal of my steady biking pace is to set me up for a strong run later.

By mile 40, I am waiting for the tough part of the bike course to start. A 1-2 mile patch of tough hills - deceptive and punishing if you are not patient. When I pass through Chalk Hill Road, the beginning of the hills, I am totally focused. I sit up erect in my saddle, with my hands resting on the top of my handlebars and try to find a nice rhythm as I push up the gradual hills. It is tough but I love it. I am reminded of some of the tougher bike rides we did this past season - Piuma, namely, which almost crushed my soul. I pass a few people, who will probably catch me later. Once you make it past the hills, it is a flat ride back to the start of your 2nd loop. 56 miles are in the bag.


Around mile 60, I see my bike special needs bag and pick up my extra 3 bottles of sports drink and toss away the ones on my bike. I get a chance to briefly scan through the quotes from supporters before heading out again. It helps me re-channel my energy. I grab a water bottle from one of the volunteers and douse myself. It feels amazing since it is starting to heat up.

The second loop starts out fine, but by miles 70-80, I'm starting to struggle. Physically, I'm doing okay but my mind just wants to get this bike portion done. This is where I am tested. More adversity. I continue to remind myself to stay patient and focus on what I need to do for the race. I make sure I continue drinking and staying cool. I also eat a Powerbar every other hour too, but I am not doing the best job of eating. I know I will have to go up Chalk Hill again and that's all I am thinking about - saving energy for the hills. If I increase my speed prior to that portion, I know I will suffer going up. After passing through Chalk Hill, I revert back to my relaxed mindset of taking it easy, breathing and reminding myself that hills are there to test what you really got inside. As I near the top of Chalk Hill or a "sustained up" (strange euphemism), I realize that I am almost finished with the toughest part of the IRONMAN bike.  Once I reach the summit, I am ecstatic. I cruise on in for the next 10 miles, finishing out my 112 miles in about 7 hours. Wow.

I rack my bike and start putting on my running shoes, spi-belt (to hold my Gu), and fuel belt. Again,  I am just taking my time here to not forget anything. We don't have access to this area once we start our run.

It's during the transition that I know I will be an IRONMAN today! My friend Carlos, who had done Vineman the year before, wrote in his post-race report that the best feeling you will have during your race is not necessarily when you cross the finish line but when you realize you will complete the race. For me, it was right before the marathon. I was nervous about the swim and the bike, my two weaker sports compared to the run. However, I knew that given my time on the swim and bike today, I could still walk most of the marathon and complete it under the official cutoff time. I also had no injuries up until this point. Nothing was going to stop me from finishing my race today. Run, walk, crawl...I was going to get there.

It's 3:30PM and about 80+ degrees out - warmer, but not unbearable. The run course is 3 loops and totals 26.2 miles (marathon). I take in a Gu right before the first loop, hoping the mixture of caffeine and electrolytes will do me well. Nope. I start feeling queasy about a couple miles in. I decide that I will do without Gu for the rest of the day and just take in food from the water stops.


Coaches trained us to take it easy coming out of bike because we still have to run 26.2 miles. I start off quite slow, but I ease my way into a steady pace. I make sure to hit up all the water stops, pouring water over my head and stuffing ice down my shirt to keep my core cool. Our bodies are like car radiators and once they overheat, it's hard to fix. I must look like a maniac coming through each water stop as I grab 2-3 water cups, toss them inelegantly and don't even pay attention to the words of the volunteers. Once in a while, I will pick up food at the water stops: bananas, pretzels, oranges, etc.

I keep telling myself to take it easy and save my energy so I can hammer the last 10K. The first loop is rough. My body usually doesn't warm up on the run until 8-10 miles in, and I know I just have to mentally get through this part. It's a crazy way of thinking that you can feel better after 120 miles, but these past 2 years have taught me about my body's limits, and I know that it's the mental battle NOT the physical one that you have to fight to complete an endurance race.


We have to run by the finish line at the end of every loop. It's a bit cruel, tempting the sufferers, but manageable. I also get to see my TNT supporters and Dash's girlfriend Traci, who is also cheering me on. By the second loop, I am starting to settle into a decent running pace. I'm still taking breaks at every water stop, and I am not doing intervals anymore. Whenever I get going, I just keep running until I hit a tough patch. I can feel my legs getting stiff, but luckily there's no onset of cramping. I am enjoying myself, but I do want to finish soon. General fatigue hits me, but I am not hitting a wall by any means. I finish the 2nd loop at a quicker pace than my first loop.


When I cross the 2nd time, I note that the clock says 12:07. I knew that I would finish, but I had a personal goal of finishing under 14 hours despite what coaches said about how you should not focus on time for your first IRONMAN. In order to accomplish this goal, I would have to run my fastest loop of all 3 on this loop. I don't know if I can do it because I am getting more tired by the minute.

I walk the first 0.25 miles of the 3rd loop. Then I take a deep breath and start to visualize myself crossing the finish line under 14 hours. This is the image I carry with me throughout my last loop. I devise a strategy of running strong when it's flat and downhill and walking the steep hills to save energy. This is the only way I am going to cross under 14 hours. After the first 0.25 miles, my mind is locked in and I just focus on what I have to do to GET IT DONE. I don't even hear the fans cheering and I look straight ahead, constantly determining the topography of the next 100-400 meters.
It's a lot harder to run now, and I can feel pain in my feet. My forearms are starting to cramp so I shake them out every few miles to stay loose. I search for landmarks (a tree, lightpost, manmade construction) ahead and challenge myself mentally to run to that point to prevent my inertia from wanting to stop and rest. I know that if I can do this, my body will at some point forget my pain and just keep moving. I run the first 4 miles at a great pace. When I reach the halfway point, it motivates me and I pick it up a bit. Water stops become my savior. Only 4+ miles more and I remind myself that 4+ miles are nothing. You've done this distance a million times. Push through this and end strong.

It's starting to get colder now and the sun will set in an hour. There are still a lot of people out on the course. I hope they finish, but I still remain focused on my own goal. These are a long 4 miles. After each mile, I tell myself that you ONLY have 3 more, 2 more, 1 more. As I hit Reiman Road, I see Carlos Pineda and Rich Leist. They are running TNT participants in. Rich is in his yellow Pikachu costume. It's a bizarre sight. I am sure most people running must think he's "so weird". Carlos and Rich jog next to me and let me know that you're "almost an IRONMAN". Although I am mentally and physically spent, Carlos and Rich calm me. Carlos jokes, "What will you be doing on Wednesday? Not biking. What will be doing next week? Sleeping in."

This journey is almost over. I started this 9 months ago, and everyday I have thought about this event. Dreamed about crossing this finish line and how it would feel. There were days when I thought I would never get here and there were days when I did not want to train anymore. All I had to do was run one more mile or 9-10 minutes. Hundreds of hours in the pool, thousands of miles biking and numerous miles of pounding pavement all translate into this one moment.

I am mentally and physically worn, but I will finish this last portion strong. I jog slowly with Carlos and Rich until we make a left turn at the corner. They leave me and I am all by myself to get to the finish line. I can see the crowds a few blocks away. I think back again to all I had to do to get here and those "tough moments", the honorees and all my supporters. Emotion overwhelms me, but I hold back. I am just happy. I am going to be an IRONMAN in a couple minutes. Wow.

2 blocks out and the crowds are around me cheering me on. I pick up my pace and head towards the transition area. As I hit the finish chute, I can see in the distance that the clock is 13:54. I am running my fastest lap of the marathon. I lift up my knees and sprint the last 100 meters as the announcer calls out my name. 25 meters to go and my left calf starts cramping up. I try to fight through it, but I cannot. I don't care though as I am so overjoyed with the moment. I slightly hobble over the finish line, and grab on to a rail on the left hand side. 13 hours and 55 minutes!!! I aim to strike a pose, but my left calf won't let me. It's okay because the photographer has me go back and retake my picture again.

Afterwards, I get my medal, take another picture and hug my finished teammates and coaches. They are like family to me because they believed in me and gave me the support I needed all season to reach this goal.


I go to the med tent area after to have some chicken broth and part of a hamburger. I really don't have an appetite, but I am starting to get cold. I meet up with Katy Tang, my high school friend, who was awesome enough to come out and support me. It is nice to see a familiar face out there on the course - I hope she had a good time.

We wait for all the teammates to finish the race.


Gordie Lat, cancer survivor, comes in an hour after me; it's simply amazing how strong he was out there on the course.


Truly an inspiration to train and be part of the team with him. Some people miss the official cutoff times, but they still complete the 140.6 miles - they are IRONMEN in my mind. Joy and Eurie didn't finish today. Joy was fighting the lingering effects of a strep throat for the first 30 miles of the course. It's amazing that she even started the race, but she attempted it. Eurie had a tough day. We all have tough days, and today just happened to be one of those days. Nothing to be ashamed about. To say you are even doing an Ironman is something to be proud of. By 11:45PM (17 hours after the start of the race), we are all back at the finish line. We get on the shuttles and head back to the hotel for our much deserved rest.

On July 31, 2010, I did an Ironman. I did it. I did the impossible.

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For the past 2 years, I have been doing one thing that scares me every day.  From running a panting 3 miles in January 2009 to completing my first marathon in San Diego in May 2009. All 26.2 miles of it; yes, darn that Greek (good ol' Pheidippides) and his fabled run. To my 2nd marathon in January 2010 on the flat, non cactus-laden and repetitive course of Arizona where I thought I was getting the hang of this endurance "thing".  In my attempt to challenge myself further (or "get tricked by others" who I won't mention here because I know they are reading), I added swimming, which I thought I had no business doing, and bicycling, which sounded benign initially but proved to be a major challenge eventually, to the mix. And it finally led me to the Vineman Ironman Triathlon on July 31, 2010.

One of my favorite writers/bloggers, Ta-Nehisi Coates, wrote that often "the most rewarding journeys are a tough, solitary affair with a lot of sacrifices". I believed that at the beginning of the season, but as time passed I realized that what made this experience special was not my individual battles, but that I was able to share such a wonderful time in my life with an amazing group of people.

I have kept in my e-mail inbox a message that I would see every morning. The subject header is "Ironman - Why?" and the body of the email consists of a couple quotes that have resonated loudly to me throughout this whole experience:

Theodore Roosevelt:

"It is not the critic who counts: not the man who points out how the strong man stumbles, or where the doer of deeds could have done better. The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood, who strives valiantly, who errs and comes up short again and again, because there is no effort without error or shortcoming, but who knows the great enthusiasms, the great devotions, who spends himself for a worthy cause; who, at the best, knows, in the end, the triumph of high achievement, and who, at the worst, if he fails, at least he fails while daring greatly, so that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who knew neither victory nor defeat."

Carlos Pineda's teammate Sharon:

I’d like to repeat something here that another one of my teammates, Sharon, wrote so eloquently in her blog. I think she summed it up best. “Let me say that I am no more athletic, special or talented than you. I made a decision and I set my mind to it. I was focused and determined to meet this goal and complete it. We all have different goals in life. Mine just happened to be swimming, biking and running to complete an Ironman”. I am not suggesting here that all of you sign up for an Ironman and that it will solve all your problems. But I would encourage you all to go out there and tackle whatever “Ironman” in life you have been chasing, and maybe have been a little scared to chase. Maybe it’s that dream job you want, or that business you want to start or that book you’ve been meaning to write. Whatever it is…it doesn’t matter. DO IT! Don’t doubt yourself. You will be surprised what you can accomplish if you just set your goals and GO FOR IT!

I don't think I can write more eloquently than those two quotations. However, I wanted to say a few more things and leave you with a couple more quotes.

The only thing standing between you and achieving what you thought was impossible is yourself. If you can challenge yourself to test your limits and take that risk, I guarantee you that it will be rewarding. You will not always succeed, but you will discover how much character you have. There really are no limits.  I realized that after doing an IRONMAN. I realized that I could also be a kid again, flying and soaring without any adult problems to worry over. And ultimately, I was living. I am so grateful for this opportunity.

"Only those who will risk going too far can possibly find out how far they can go." T.S. Eliot

"You are never too old to set another goal or dream a new dream." C.S. Lewis 

There is nothing like your first _________. Please fill in the blank for yourself.

Thanks for reading and letting me share this experience with you. It was truly one of the best days of my life!

I'm feeling great now, five days after my IRONMAN (detailed post to come). No more soreness or tightness. No walking down stairs gingerly with the use of a handrail. No more deliberate angling of body parts to produce the most painless ease of motion while getting out of a car, getting into a car, putting clothes on, showering, etc.

Thanks to the coaches for the regimented training and recovery they provided us this season. They trained us well to recover from long workouts (even 14 hour ones).

I'm still on cloud nine this week. The time spent not training has been seamlessly shifted to "normal life" activities. So this is what it feels like to have a weekday night only worrying about work and school? Wait, I don't need to check Workoutlog to figure out what I need to do tomorrow? Today is Thursday, but I don't have to head to the swimming pool after work. I'm settling back into normal life, a strange frontier I abandoned only 2 years ago, but that's okay.

We'll see how long this "normal life" lasts. All I know is that I can eat Haagen Daaz Pineapple Coconut on a Tuesday Night or have a Pale Ale with spirited co-workers on a Thursday evening.

I wouldn't mind doing a short swim or bike session though to flush out the lactic acid.