20 Weeks . . . and so it begins

One last treat this weekend. . . won't be seeing these for a while. 

Up until now we've spent our training time base building. We didn't stress out about missing a workout, and we tried to keep things light and fun while still putting in the time.

That time has now passed.

Today we received the first two weeks of a twenty-week plan from our trainer. (I believe Jason had other words for him last week, but I'll just stick with "experienced" as the best description for him now. I may change my mind in a few weeks.)

We vacillated early on if we should get a training plan or just try to figure out this whole Ironman prep alone. I spent several long runs consulting with my buddies about this. We did not take the decision lightly. And I could go into all of the reasons for why we chose the route we did, but in the end, all that matters is that we have a plan that will help get us to the finish line in September. I'm pretty stoked and hopeful to say the least.

In a few minutes Jason will finish putting the minions to bed, and then we'll have a triathlon committee meeting where we'll compare schedules and workouts and then make a plan for the week. Basically, from this point forward, much of life is about management. Time management. Energy management. Family management. Nutrition management. Thankfully, we both enjoy planning. Knowing what will come for the week will hopefully keep us sane.

Oh, and lest anyone think the "fun" part of training has passed, I certainly hope not. I know some of our training will challenge us physically and mentally to say the least. But I plan on gritting my teeth and eeking out a grin in every workout. Every workout. After all, if we can't find some kind of pleasure in the pain, the pain isn't worth it. There. That's my philosophical moment of the day.

As far as this week went, we had a rough week quite frankly. I'm hoping week one of official training will look vastly different. It has to. I was diagnosed with what the doctor called the early stages of a bronchial infection on Tuesday, and once again, Jason picked up the slack. He's such a good man. A few days later, lots of rest, and several doses of a decongestant and antibiotics, I feel much better. And Jason doesn't look any worse for the wear either. He still managed to find time for his perfunctory long bike and run this weekend. Like I said, he's a good man.

Here's to the next twenty weeks of anticipated fatigue, constant hunger, and aching muscles. . . all covered over with a big grin.