Anyway, it's the beginning of a bright and shiny new month today, and leaves me only 72 more days of training before Worlds kick off. (And yes, you can expect a daily countdown from now on. Don't act so surprised.) Seems there's a lot to be done before then - from fitting and ordering uniform (which is to be done before 5pm tomorrow), to organising accommodation, insurance, bla bla bla... all that stuff is kind of boring and I'm pretty sure my mum will take care of it.
It's times like these I'm kind of slightly happy to not have a job. In the lead-up to the Olympics in Athens, I was a full-time (a very lazy full-time, but a full-time all the same) student at the University of Waikato, as well as holding down a job at Hell Pizza. Yeah, so working there isn't exactly the most taxing or high profile position I can think of, but trust me - when you have to work on Sunday afternoon at the end of a week that's included no less than 20 hours in the pool, five hours in the gym, and a much-hated pilates class... it really sucks. Even moreso when you're on minimum wage and constantly smelling like melted cheese. Mmm.
My current set-up is working a little better: I get up around 5:30am for a 6am-8am workout, then come home for a bit of a nap before another workout over lunchtime, followed by a swim and tonnes and tonnes of stretching (I am so flexible. I love it.) I get to nap pretty well as much as I need, and since there's no uni or other crap to get in the way, if for whatever reason (and at 5:30am, there's usually a reason) I don't want to get up, I can postpone training for an hour and no-one gets hurt. I'm quite happy with that.
I'm determined to win my division at Worlds. Sounds like a big ask, I know... but come September, we'll see. In the past I may have left some parts of my races (earlier last season, I did zero bike training. And the bike is a pretty significant component of a triathlon) to chance, which is ridiculous. This time I will be doing no such thing. Everything will be perfect at 6:45am on September 12th, guys. You'll see.
Depending on how well you know me, you might be thinking "um, but aren't you anorexic?". Kind of. I guess the take-home point here is, if I cram an extra hour-long run in each day, I can probably eat sweet and sour pork for dinner and not have to worry about being fat the next day. Energy input / energy output. Happiness!
A bit of a warning: expect the posts in the coming months to be filled with complaints about how much I hate swimming / riding my bike / running. Ignore. None of this is true.
Over and out, yo.
Over and out, yo.
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