A Day Of Rest

It's been a funny weekend. No, I didn't do the 100km cycle race. And no, I didn't not do it so I could do a triathlon scheduled for this weekend (and a league race too).

I've just been feeling very tired. Overworked really. I noticed on my Polar Heart Rate Monitor calendar that I've been training for 10 days straight, and I just didn't want to get on my bicycle on Saturday. The rest did me good. I diod some gardening, cleaned out my kitchen, bought some more groceries, watched some television, even met the neighbors. They (Louis and Nadine and friends) invited me to join them for potjieskos and rugby (South Africa vs Ireland) but I'd already arranged to have a braai with Werner.

There was a short circuit or something, because once we got the fire going the lights went out. Nevermind, out came the candles. Had another brandewyn en coke (brandy and coke) and traded stories over glowing embers. Werner and I swam together for years. Both of us were pretty good. Things went a bit haywire with him when he studied architecture at university, and then just barely failed on subject, repeated it, failed it again, and again and again and finally gave up. Life can be cruel to some, almost unfairly kind to others.

I'm going to take it fairly easy this week, maybe just train hard (hills) tomorrow, and rest up for the 94.7, the biggest and most important cycle race for a good while. After that, it's the Argus in March. But from here on out I'm going to be in the pool and pounding the pavements jogging a lot more. There are plenty of league triathlons coming up, and I am to do well this season.

Meanwhile, I have an interview coming up this week, possibly meeting the Dean (I hope so), and want to organise some work on the side, like more articles for magazines (where the real money is), an exhibition of photos and somewhere down the line, a good, long, decent break. Sodwana perhaps. Somewhere where life is a beach, and the sun soaks through the tired bones, filling it with light, salty energy once more.