Biceps

Things are about to change in my life:  I'm working on my biceps.  My relationship with my triceps has just grown so ordinary.  They're great during the finish phase of the freestyle in the pool, but biceps, biceps are the true demonstration of masculinity, aren't they?  I have a friend with Popeye biceps.  Mine have always been sort of soft and elongated, regardless the quantity of curls completed.  No more my friends. 

I hired a personal trainer. 

That's right.  I'll be drinking raw eggs soon.  Just mail ordered my first batch of anabolic steroids.  Soon I'll be talk'n kinda tuff and diff'rent, with grunts and high-pitched profanity mostly.  Within days likely to be cat-calling women on the street uncontrollably.  I really don't know where I'm headed.  But, I think where ever the destination my biceps are going to be stronger.  Balboa like. 

So, yeah, I'm real optimistic right now, and enthusiastic, after only my second workout.  The guy is good.  He doesn't seem to care about perceived pain - actually the things that hurt the most he kept taking me back to do them again, repeatedly.  That is exactly what I'm paying for:  pain.  None of this has anything to do with Ironman.  This may actually slow me down - don't know.

I ran yesterday (4 miles) and then rode my trainer at night...a speed set, 30 minutes.  Wednesday I swam.  Super quick workout at Jorgenson.  The pool was obnoxiously packed.  Lifted weights with the trainer on Tuesday and today.  Still - out of shape though.