In a week I'll be residing on the dusty expanse of desert near Moab for 24 hours of exhaustion.
I. Can't. Wait.
The weather looks like it is going to work out at least pretty well, at least according to the 10-day forecast. 80s for the highs and 45 for the lows. Zero chance of precip. I hope it holds because those conditions are perfect for me.
I am hoping to sneak in one more night ride next week to test out my new lights. But I had to take in the Titus because it felt like I was grinding coffee when I pedaled. No, it isn't my hulking quads flexing anything. Probably something worn out that is expensive.
On the fitness front, I wish I knew how I am going to feel. I feel pretty good, but some fatigue has been creeping in. I've been pushing it a little for a while now, and maybe I need to make sure I take it easy this week. This training and racing crap used to be so much easier when I could just stick to a schedule.
I do know that I am starting to feel a little mentally cooked, or I just have ADD. I am having some trouble motivating myself to get on the bike, or run, or swim. Just a lack of focus, no goals. Just Moab and cyclocross, which is why I have maintained the bike fitness and let the rest slip. I'm ready to get out and do some bird hunting, or kayaking as I call it.
Smarty Pants is thoroughly enjoying her dance classes. Which means that her journey to the pink side is almost complete. I am afraid there isn't much I can do to keep her from becoming a princess. I had hope though, I brought home a new shotgun the other day and she thought it was cool. I was so proud when she said she wanted "her own little shotgun, a pink one."
A little pink shotgun. Makes a Dad proud right there. Realize this: I know people that can make it happen.
I think she needs another year before going with Dad on the marsh though. And there will be a little pink shotgun when we go. (No it won't be real. If you thought I'd give a four-year old a real shotgun may your brain melt into an ooze and flow out of your ears.)