Since the Ironman, I've read two novels and started a third. I've gone on walks with my husband. I've participated in the campaign to have at least one family meal a day. I cleaned a thing. I've even worked a bit at my actual job when my brain would let me stop obsessively reading Facebook, blogs, and my own race report. (There's this one paragraph that the editor in me just isn't happy with yet, but I usually end up rereading the whole thing because it brings me so much joy.)
And of course we had the fabulous "vacation" in South Dakota, which in retrospect was all about laughing—at our jokes, at our predicament, at the tourist traps, and especially at the "Finding Bigfoot" marathon playing on Animal Planet. Sample car game: Everyone holds their breath for a few seconds. Then, youngest to oldest, everyone exhales in turn with a satisfying "Puh." It sounds like this: Exaggerated gasps. Silence. PUH, PUH, PUH, PUH. Hysterical laughter. You can see why we ran out of fuel for our hilarity before the trip was over. Those flames were burning way too hot.
But this is all a good start. I think it will take some time to rediscover what my life was like before training started eating up three hours a day. Then it will take more time to figure out how I want to shake it up next.