It’s that time of the year, time to have time.  Time to do all those things you wanted to or neglected to do while training mile after mile in water and on land. 

Resting the focus of the mind while muscles store up nutrients; one morphs into an energized being with free time.  Both commodities I have spent with wreckless abandon the last several months.  Suddenly, I notice my surroundings again with a new perspective.  Released from the blur of training and its strict, narrow path…I now have time to get organized.  When you are training, traveling, racing and repeating this process over and over again; a messy desk at work, a cluttered garage, un-packed luggage and loads of laundry… all fall into that blur. 

Without all the training; I have discovered new powers.  I no longer need the 8 to 10 hours of sleep every night, 6 or 7 have me bouncing off walls.  I can skip a meal and I will not kill over dead from hunger.  I can stay up late, eat a large bowl of ice-cream and not bonk the next day.  I can work through lunch, skipping the workout and huge meal afterwards.  As for the messy blur…that’s all coming into focus now. 

I begin a toned down version of Fall-Cleaning that my mom instilled in me.  My mom has a PHD in Cleaning and I garnered a Masters degree at the early age of 11.

Hortense and I tackle our basement first.  A grand scale re-organizing process starts to mend the months of neglect.  I am moving furniture while Hortense is doing heaps of laundry.  “I’m throwing this away.” She says.  I turn to see what she is holding up…it’s a revered Triathlon T-Shirt.  The shirt is OK but the race is fantastic.  It was also my last amateur race so it holds some extra meaning.  Sensing my disagreement, “Look at the armpit stains… you workout in a Cotton shirt?  It’s disgusting.”  I can’t deny that the yellow-brown armpits stains are abhorred.  And I have what seem like thousands of these t-shirts.  OK, no need to be a pack rat.  I grab the shirt and take a good last look at the piece of memorabilia.  The Pacific Grove Triathlon shirt stairs back at me and begs me not to do it. 

I’m wasting time looking at this old t-shirt and I notice all the work that still needs to be done.  I see some dust and mess that needs wiped down with a rag.  This T-shirt was in the wrong place at the wrong time.  The shirt was down-graded to a rag, and a very good rag at that.

Happy Thanksgiving!