After 35 weeks of Ironman training, the most striking physical change I have noticed is how quickly I can recover from anything now. After another night's sleep and some non-running workouts, my feet are more or less back to normal (i.e., just so-so), and my legs feel great. So I take back anything grumpy I may have blogged yesterday.
It was actually a good walk. My mom joined me for about 4 miles of it, and my husband joined me for the last 13½, which made it all go fast. And I didn't have to carry anything, because I drew up a complicated, loopy route that let me use my parents' house as a pit stop twice, and my own house twice—plus, my husband hauled some drinks when he was out with me. (I'm well aware that I am supported to the point of being spoiled.)
It is raining hard again today, and the forecast is iffy for Saturday's century. I'm really not sure what's going on. I thought I lived in the arid high plains?
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