Work Hard, Play Hard, Blob Hard

Where have I been?

After a solid month of regimented balance – working eight neat hours and working out in clean bricks – this train has been totally off the tracks. I took a recovery week after the Austin Triathlon on Labor Day. Just as that week was drawing to a close, a dump truck backed over me, then pulled forward, then buried me in warmed-over undead disorganized half-done files; the driver offering a friendly, “They’re yours now, YOU figure it out,” before he tapped the horn twice, flipped me off, and drove away. So now I’ve registered for about 1/3 of the events in Running Season and only actually run one time. Training? Eh, I guess that’s what the last minute is for, right? I’ve been a little lost being cut off from a training schedule and having descended down the rabbit hole of warmed-over undead disorganized half-done files. This weekend is about finding myself.


That’s right! I’m shaking off the blah, the blob, and the job. I’m cutting out at noon and starting this weekend early. We’ve got friends in town, three-day passes, and no agenda other than go where the fun’s at. I think a three-day music festival is just what this blob needs to recalibrate. I don’t buy the anti-hype this year that the lineup is whack, the weather is crap, and tickets are too expensive. No matter how hard you rock out to the smallest band no one’s ever heard of, or how far back your been-in-Austin-before-it-was-Austin roots extend, you can’t convince me that three days full to the brim with buddies, bands, and beers isn’t the most fun you can wrap around your wrist.


This week I read a note from a inspirational high-achieving friend that said “you define what balance means to you.” I’m realizing the truth of that heading into this weekend. I’m just not a person who can have every day involve a one hour workout, eight hours of desk work, and three hours of fun. I’m a person who straps in for four weeks of brick workouts, dives under two sixty hour work weeks, then caps it off with three days of unabashed debauchery. I guess the net result is the same since I’ve got workouts, I’ve got hard work, and I’ve got wild weekends – just not all simultaneously. I may not be balanced in the day-to-day, but I’m balanced in the long view.

Turns out imbalance is this seasons balance.


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