Some weeks you plan. Some weeks just happen. This one was a little of both.
First, Halloween. The day started with two and a half hours on the bike, long with some tempo. That night everyone dressed up for the party, and I went as a stripper fireman. The abs are a T-shirt. The dad bod is real.
I also made the drinks and served them in blood bags. Occupational humor. Good time.
Then the week got serious.
Six training days. 639 TSS. 8.3 hours. That's the biggest week of this rebuild, and it isn't close. Two weeks ago I was missing workouts because work took the slot. This week I got them all in.
Thursday and Saturday did most of the damage. Run plus swim both days, about an hour and a half each, and both came out harder than anything else in the block. Not Zone 2 cruising. The kind of session where you climb out of the pool and just stand there for a minute.
The good news is the body took it. HRV stayed clean every morning, 6.9 to 7.6. No warning lights.
Then Saturday night happened. A gala for juvenile diabetes research. Dinner, a live auction, and a lot more dancing than I'd planned. I stayed out very late, and my watch says I got 1.3 hours of sleep.
I'm not calling that a training strategy. But it was a good cause and a great night, and there's a lesson in it anyway: a big week only counts if the recovery shows up after it. This week's job is sleep.
Four weeks to La Quinta. The fitness is showing up. Now I just have to stop dancing long enough to keep it.