Back in college I would regularly chow down the following for lunch: 2 behemoth Reuben sandwiches loaded with Thousand Island dressing and grease, about 1 liter of Pepsi, and the frosting off 3 pieces of cake. Within 15-20 minutes I could go do a track workout with intervals followed by aerobics (I'm a child of the 80's) or ride 30-40 miles in the noonday heat followed by a game of basketball. My recovery snack would be a big mug of peanut butter and brown sugar or a whole can of frosting or both.

Those days are LONG GONE! *sniff, sniff* However, because 40 is just around the corner for me, I had a lapse of common sense or was clinging to the GI resilience of my youth. After this morning's moderately hard swim, I gorged at an Indian food buffet and ate more chocolate cream pie than Kevin. Outeating the Kevster in any food group is a monumental undertaking. Eating more DESSERT than an equally hungry Kevin today put made me an Olympic gold medal contender.

As triathletes we hear/read alot about pushing our limits, taking risks, embracing the pain. As a gastronomic idiot, I did all of those things. Until today, I didn't know just how much curried foods I could stuff down my piehole. I knew Kevin wouldn't want the leftovers stinking up the refrigerator so I took a risk and damn near cleaned my plate 1500 Cal after I was full. Then there was that pie. The beginnings of a belly ache were underway, but after all...it's PIE!

Yep, my recovery went like this: balled up on the bed, clutching a bottle of Pepto Bismol. My sweetspot ride and tempo run a quickly fading possibility for tonight's activities.

Well, live to fight another day...and eat less offensive quantities of food. Lesson of nutritional excellence learned. I'll be reminded for the next 24 hours as I burp up curry!