Hmmm.... hubris, perhaps? For the whole week since announcing I was going to try at least two little triathlons this season, I've been laid low by a low level of achy fatigue. I've managed one swim workout, which was modestly successful, and a couple of walks, both of which made me need a nap afterwards. and then I had some more naps just for good measure. I bailed just on walking back to the train station on Wednesday and gratefully took a bus for the last three quarters of a mile or so. I don't think I can blame all this on staying up late watching the Olympics (thanks, NBC). Even on those nights when I've gotten plenty of sleep, I've woken up in the morning feeling cranky, stiff, and hung over without even having had the fun of a few drinks, or any at all.
Last weekend was extremely hectic: Big Lebowski party in San Francisco, breakfast with Russ and Michelle in Burlingame, play at Capital Stage, folks in town, brother's birthday dinner... a huge amount of fun, but by the end of it I was feeling pretty drained, and that lasted all week.
I've been sitting here on the Big Poofy Chair all day mustering the energy to put laundry in the washer and then mustering the energy to take it out. I was supposed to go up to Chico this afternoon and attend the first birthday bash of Celio Clavey Perras, a serious little cutie who has learned to walk since I last saw him. That, I'm afraid, ain't gonna happen. Sorry, Celio. Hopefully getting over this will not require years of therapy.
Even my hopes of getting it together to swim again this evening are fading. Maybe tomorrow. It's a long time till the end of August. Tomorrow is another day.