The Bottom.

The free-fall has finally ended. I beginning to wonder if it ever would.
  
After Mississippi, I knew my numbers would crash. There's no possible way I could keep my chronic training load up as high on a steady diet of trainer miles. Well, yes there is a way, but it's not a way I'm willing to go. That many hours spinning and going nowhere would tax my sanity, my family's patience, and my taint flesh. Nope. Nope. Nope.
 
The numbers have been leveling off into a sustainable groove. The intensities I can handle for various durations are climbing. I'm finally embracing the suck, and while my acute training loads and training status balances are dancing around one another, the chronic training load is a slightly-wavering line.
  
That's just a long winded way of saying I'm exactly where I want to be for this time of year.
  
I wish I could say this was the result of a finely honed training plan strategy, that I've mastered the art of performance management after many years of failure, but the honest truth is I'm as surprised as anyone. Dumb luck. I just followed a loosely-defined pattern of easy-hard-easy-hard-easy-hard-rest, and stuff just kinda happened. Go figure.
 
I'm not quite hitting the numbers I was a few years ago, but I'm older and not as mentally strong (pig-headed) as I once was. I'll get there, or I won't. The multi-colored squiggly lines will go up or down. My highly-scientific training methodology will reap dividends or I'll get sick and have the strength of a six-year-old girl rolling into race season.
 
All part of the master plan.

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