Day 35

This morning I was very relieved for the rain. At least, I'm told that it was raining, but I never really saw it for myself. When the alarm went off at 5:30 am, Zdenek got out of bed and returned 30 seconds later, telling me that it was "dark and rainy and we're going back to sleep for another hour. No cycling." I didn't argue.

Saturday mornings, forever my "long run" time, are now dedicated to a "long cycle," at least while the weather cooperates. Last Saturday, however, Zdenek and I were forced to turn back early on our ride to Nyack, because another cyclist had been in a serious accident on the road ahead of us and the police had shut down the 9W highway. I almost regret putting this into my blog, because I know that, if my mother is reading this, I am going to get a lecture on the perils of taking to the roads on two wheels. Mom, no need: that accident actually scared me sufficiently such that, this past Saturday, I opted for running over cycling. Or at least I considered running instead of cycling, but soon decided that I simply love my little red Giant too much and couldn't bear letting her sit idle on such a beautiful, sunny Saturday morning. So Zdenek and I headed out that morning with two new cycling buddies, Adam and Jen, and we enjoyed a moderately challenging and very talkative 50 miles together. In fact, when we returned to the UWS around 1 pm, the weather was still so beautiful and my legs were feeling so good, I decided to "brick it."

Learning to be a "biathlete" -- if I can call myself that -- can be pretty tough. Thus far, I've managed to head out cycling on the non-rainy days and reserve running for the times that my schedule calls for a bit more flexibility. At last count, I have either run or cycled 32 times in the last 34 days. I have occasionally run and cycled on the same day, usually 10 to 12 hours apart, but until Saturday, I have never stacked a run directly on top of a 50 mile ride. In considering whether I should immediately lace up my running shoes and head back out, I realized that, in an Ironman race, one is expected to complete an entire marathon after a 112-mile bike ride (and, of course, a 2.4 mile swim). So then what's a 4 mile run following a 50 mile ride? It's a cool-down, right?

Truth be told, the run didn't feel too bad. I ran the relatively flat roads of Riverside Park for a change, and though I'm not sure exactly how fast I went, my legs fell into a somewhat normal rhythm after about 10 minutes. I returned home to my already-rested husband, pleased with myself for completing my first brick workout. (It also helped to lessen the guilt that evening when we indulged in a full tasting menu with wine pairings, though I'm not sure how many bites of dessert those four miles really bought me.) On Sunday morning, I was still feeling good enough to run another 10 miles or so. Perhaps I had become an Ironwoman (or maybe a half or quarter of one) without even trying to?

But this morning dashed any dreams I might have of making it to Kona anytime soon. I was relieved to forgo a bike ride for another hour of sleep, and just lying in bed, my legs felt heavy and lead-like. I'm probably not the first aspiring multi-sport athlete to surmise that the "brick" refers not to the sequence of workouts, but to the state of one's muscles following said workouts. This morning was a very welcome rain day indeed.