My swim went fabulously, especially considering the weekend I had. After 1,000 meters, I felt great. I was joined by several young, strange faces, all college age. Of course, a the start, everyone else zipped by, and I debated wondered to slip into the slow lane. As we began the main set, everyone seemed to lose steam. I started pushing the pace, ready to begin. One swimmer moved into the slow lane. I passed another swimmer. Another swimmer disappeared. I had been prepared to be the weakest swimmer in the lane. Now, I was basically leading. I'm still a slow swimmer but it's a good boost for the ole' confidence. At the end, I skipped the final set, happy to do only 2600 meters today. Afterall, it was supposed to be a recovery swim. I casually mentioned to my fellow, young swimmers (since when did college kids make me feel old?) that I was getting out early, "That's it for me. I had a pretty rough weekend." They all started chuckling and giving me an impressed, wide-eyed look.
"Yeah, so did we." I realized "rough weekend" might have a double meaning depending on your age and environment. I cracked up and laughed with them, not bothering to correct them.
This evening, I hopped onto Torch for one of my favorite workouts: Racing the Sunset. Basically, you pick a target mileage to complete, say 20 or 30 miles, get on your bike with limited daylight to spare, and pedal as fast as you can in one direction until you reach half the distance. Then, glancing at the sinking fireball into the Pacific, you pedal home as fast as you can, half-panicked because you refuse to put lights on your bike. Also, put a nice, long hill between you and the end (Torrey Pines). It's a terrific workout! I went much faster than normally. Not a moment to spare! Motivation is a great thing.
P.S. I can't stop eating. I'm ravenous! It's ridiculous.