Lately, I've been mixing the Body for Life program with triathlon. It's working pretty well. I'm lifting three days a week (on Monday, Wednesday, and Friday). Tuesdays I do some hard, interval or hills running. Thursday I do a swim workout. And Saturday's, I do a long ride.
I should take Sunday's off, but I'm training for a 1/2 marathon in September up in Dayton, Ohio. So I kind of just count Thursdays (my swim day) as a rest day. I work more on technique those days anyway, so it works out.
I'm liking the results. I'm not sure this kind of program would work for long races -- but for me and my Olympic-distance events it's just fine.
The hardest part's been the diet. For the most part -- I'm good. Until dinner. Not that I totally pig out or anything. But let's just say I could do better.
This past weekend, Niki & I took a B.A.B.I.E.S. class. I'm not sure what it stands for, but it's designed for new-to-be parents in their last trimesters of pregnancy. It talks about what to expect during the delivery, how to care for newborns afterward, and a bunch of other useful information.
It was a pretty good class -- although the thing lasted like 6 hours. During the first hour, the instructor showed a very graphic video of babies being born. The video left Niki in tears.
The instructor turned to Niki after the video finished and said, "I know, I know. It's very touching. The birth of a new baby."
"I'm not crying because it's beautiful," Niki said. "I'm crying because I'm scared to death."
I totally agree with Niki. I can't watch surgeries anyway. ER is enough to freak me out. I told Niki that we'll get her loaded up on drugs, and I won't venture onto the other side of the sheet they set up. Neither of us are doctors, nor have any desire to enter the health care industry.
We don't need to see what's going on down there. We'll leave it to the professionals. Let one's body do the work, as they say. The body knows what to do.