Getting ready for IM Germany, 26 days. Friday, swam 2.4 miles. Saturday, biked 100. Sunday, ran 18. Hours and hours, no big deal right? Sunday afternoon it’s raining, the kids are napping and I’m tooling around the internet and stumble on a government/army chart setting out how many push-ups I ought to be able to do as an M39 in TWO MINUTES to max out the points for the test (73). Hell, I don’t do push-ups (or anything else but SBR these days), but I’m a frickin’ Ironman, right, I ought to be able to max some alleged internet army fitness test?! I can’t resist, grab a Polar watch off the desk and drop in my study and do push-ups for TWO MINUTES. Fall about 10 short of 73, but go on with the day thinking that was no big deal and I could max it out with some minimal training. Forgot about the whole thing until the next morning, when most of me felt just fine, legs a little sore but ready for a jog, ride etc. Then I realize that my chest is ON FIRE. The burn lasts all day and into this morning when it’s EVEN MORE ON FIRE. I spent today cringing as I walked down the office hallway, hoping no one tapped me in the chest because if they did, I was going to squeal.
Anyway, so goes the story about how the last TWO MINUTES of my 9+ hours of training this weekend alerted me that I need to HTFU…