I can see from my office the snow melting. The drift that nearly blocked my view of the parking lot and the large beige Whitley Country water tower is slowly subsiding. It's a pretty view at times. I look west from my spreadsheets and occasionally catch the most beautiful orange and red skies pouring down on the steel structure full of water. Kind of makes me long for cycling on the road again.
I've been riding my trainer twice a week, putting in about 20 miles each time, doing lots of interval work. It's boring and painful.
I had a very nice swim yesterday morning - 3,000 yards (120 lengths). Mostly all freestyle on a good clip. It felt great to push to exhaustion. I haven't been in the water much. Nor have I been running. What kind of an exercising blog is this? It's becoming my fall from exercising glory; my will to rise in the morning and go exercise has been lost for months.
On a brighter front, kind of, the book I've been reading is really starting to pick up. I'm reading Hemingway's For Whom the Bell Tolls. I don't know whom the bells are going to toll for yet. But I'm guessing Robert will play a part in it. He and Maria fell in love. I hope they make it - but I fear when they blow up that bridge all may be lost. Love. I woke up this morning and thought "I wonder what's going on in my book?" Reading is fantastic at times. Sort of like fishing. There's usually horribly long dull parts, but then sometimes you actually catch fish and it's thrilling. When I was a kid I read Les Miserables, by Victor Hugo, about the French Revolution. Read the whole thing. Cried at the end. It was one of the most painful and greatest books I've ever read. Like a week long fishing trip without a bite until the last day.
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