Feel Like Dancin

Day three of the imbalance. There is good news and bad. I’ll start with the good.

After our rather rollicking spin session this morning, details of which I might include later, and once out of the glorious shower, I stood naked on the scale. It is an old weighted slide-scale that requires the user to move a counterweight along the top horizontal bars to dial in the ounces after the pounds have been set by the larger weight on the lower bars. In my case the bottom wight has always been set at 150. The top weight then slides, sometimes painfully, to the actual current weight of whatever mass is standing upon its platform wishing only brutal honesty and accurate data. I was thinking as I gently persuaded the weight left, lower, what two days and three workouts had done to my mass, and in what proportions. This ritual is kinda like insanity. One definition of it being that doing the same things over and over while expecting different results is tantamount to bona fide crazy behavior. Still we cross our fingers hoping for some blind justice from the universe. This year, full of ups, downs and question marks, has seen my fluctuation balance out  between a low of 165 and a high of 171. It has been in this range for several years, but as any athlete, of any merit, will tell you, there is a ‘good’ weight and a ‘not-so-good’ weight. I feel like my best racing weight is 160. I know that if I can show up on race day, having earned entry through successful training and a solid nutrition plan that keeps my body-fat and my power-to-weight ratio in this rage, I have successfully paid for the right to compete. Anything else would be disrespectful. After that, win, lose or drop out, I will have instilled in myself the confidence required to push the parameters a little once the gun has sounded.  THAT to me, is what racing is all about, and why I race. To answer the question that asks me who I am, and what exactly I have done to deserve to be here with all these other talented, dedicated and motivated athletes. 

Then of course there is the issue of health. It has been stated many times that there exists a chasm of difference between being healthy and being fit. There is a weight connection here, almost a hand in glove comparison. Especially if we are discussing Ironman distances. One can be exceptionally fit and race ready and borderline unhealthy. We can get to the point of obsession, where results are everything, and sacrifice both longevity and overall health in the process of training for the big race. In a nutshell, this means that the ten (or more) pounds we think will ease our burden over 140 miles, can actually be a vital component to our overall stasis and quality of health, what professionals call our optimal weight. 

With all this swirling around my brain, the effectiveness of my training coupled with today being day three of the virus, and race day in ten days, I tenderly persuade the tiny weight left with an attempt at objective nonchalance. It is what it is right?

160.

That is the good news. I never suspected that a 72 hour runny nose would cause such results. That is down five pounds in a week, a gigantic number upon analysis, one I will gladly accept and hope that the percentage is skewed in the favor of fat over muscle and that light means right. 

And the bad news? 

I still don’t feel like dancing.