I rarely do two posts in a day, but this incident was totally blogworthy.
So, I was completely going to skive off my steady swim workout tonight. I was completely ragged out, fell asleep as soon as a sat down, and did not think I had it in me. Not exactly "first in, last out" kind of stuff.
But Mrs. Greyhound breaks out with, "you know, I didn't do what I had planned for this evening so you could swim."
There has got to be a word stronger than "guilt" for when the iron widow shoos you out of the house to complete your training, but I don't know what it is.
Off to the pool. Did not find any kind of rhythm until 1200 meters and only swam the last 400 to 500 with any kind of intensity, but still managed less than 2:00 per 100 yards.
Maybe I'm not setting my sights high enough, but given where I started, if I complete an Ironman swim in less than 2:00 per 100 yards, I'm declaring myself swim champ of the universe.
That is all.
But Mrs. Greyhound breaks out with, "you know, I didn't do what I had planned for this evening so you could swim."