Its 9:30 in the evening. Its warm. The thermostat in
our living room reads: 90. Nine. Zero. Toasty. I no
longer sleep upstairs. I've been crashing on the floor
of the living room next to the screen door to the back
patio. Pretty rockin'.
Perhaps you all have picked up on the fact that I'm
back in Boulder. You would be correct. After nearly
four weeks of living in and out of a hospital and/or
hotel room; I'm back in Boulder. My father returned
with my mother (and Aunt and Uncle) to Crested Butte
late this afternoon. My dad is still weak and
extraordinarily tired (guess that happens when you
miss out on food and sleep for three weeks; imagine
that), but he's damn happy to be sleeping in his own
bed tonight up in them thar hills.
Anyways, I came home to an invigorated Mr Becker. He's
now Mr Becker since he knocked out a 3000m/155mi/10K
day of training yesterday. I told him to go ahead and
run a marathon (or at run to NED), but he wimped out.
The dude has stepped it up with the assistance or
Chris and Marilyn. Those two can be very
inspirational. I spent last May recovering from the
month of April when I was training with them in AZ.
As for my own training; its good and its reduced. Joe
and I wanted a midseason peak so we picked Buffalo
Springs because of timing/course/Texas pride. As a
result, I'm resting in between several key weekly
sessions while my buddies are knocking out some
seriously epic sessions. Certainly a test of self
control, but you 'gotta rest some time.' Might as well
be when it matters.
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