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New coach

I’m not talking about the purse. Though I could have bought a nice one with the money I spent. Instead I hired one. Because holding myself accountable only to me is not working, so now Coach K bears the burden.

Maybe you think the tide has turned and I’m doing Wisconsin. But, alas, that is not the case, because at the age of 37 I’ve come to accept reality. And that reality is I suck at long distance. It only took a decade to figure that out.

Instead the focus will be on short-course, which is far less sexy than an Ironman. But I’m okay with that. Ironman is like the burn-your-face-off hot wings. They both involve a fair amount of discomfort, looks of disbelief from others and both result in a pain in the ass the next day.

Don’t misunderstand. Finishing an Ironman is amazing and the closest most people will come to feeling like a rock star. It’s the icing on the cake after months of training and perpetually sore hamstrings. I have the highest respect for triathletes that race IM year after year.

But it’s not for me. At least not this year.

So I’ve set my sights on qualifying for USAT Nationals in September. It’s an Olympic distance, which is my favorite. Long enough to reward myself with Nutella, short enough to be mobile the next day. A win-win.

I’m excited to work with Coach K. My training plan for the first week arrived today and it looks promising. No workouts longer than 1.5 hours. Excellent. And it came with free swag. I'm a sucker for swag.

So now I can actually start blogging about what my screen name references. Try to contain your excitement.

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