Training Log: Labor Day Weekend

Sunrise Swims, Ego Rushes, and the Crash That Followed

This weekend was a reminder of just how much this journey takes out of me — and how much it gives back. From the fog-covered glass of Lake Wawasee to the roar of cheers from strangers on their docks, to crashing on the couch sick just 48 hours later, it was the full spectrum of endurance training.

Friday — The Sunrise Swim That Felt Like Another Planet

I started Friday at sunrise, slipping into the water from our house on the north shore. The plan was a four-mile open water swim to the Oakwood Hotel and back. But the lake that morning was unlike anything I’ve ever experienced.

The air was cold, and a thick layer of fog hugged the surface. I could only see a few buoys ahead of me, nothing beyond. No waves. No ripples. Just glass. It felt like another planet. Honestly, if it weren’t for my friends out there on their SUPs and kayaks cheering and filming, I don’t know if I would have made it. That crew gave me the push I needed to keep moving.

What I didn’t expect was the support from shore. All along the way, people came out on their docks, waving and shouting encouragement. Strangers who didn’t know my name but knew my story. That mix of disbelief and pressure hit me hard. I felt proud of the work I’ve put in, proud that my wife and friends could see the community rallying behind me. It was a rush I’ll never forget.

And then, just when I thought the morning couldn’t get better, Jim Kroemer — the writer for the Wawasee Property Owners Association — came running down the dock to introduce himself and snap a picture. His excitement was contagious. It gave me a burst of energy, even as I climbed out of the water cold and shivering.

The rest of the day was lighter — some wake surfing and time on the lake with friends. A perfect start to the holiday weekend.

Saturday — Three Miles in the Other Direction

The next morning, I repeated the sunrise swim program, but in the opposite direction — three miles from the Harbor Side Condos to the Eli Lilly Estate and back.

This time I tried a wetsuit to keep warm. It worked… but the trade-off was brutal. The extra resistance in my arms made every stroke feel heavier, and by the end, my shoulders and arms were shot. I was happy to be warmer, but discouraged at how much the suit drained me. It was one of those “product test” kind of days where you learn something the hard way.

I got out of the water, shaking, and ended up sitting under hot shower water for an hour before I could stop shivering. With body fat down around 8–9% right now, the cold cuts deep, and I’ve always struggled to regulate.

But the night that followed was exactly what I needed. Our daughter was at a sleepover, so Rikki and I joined friends on the boat. Gavin DJ’d while we laughed, played a ruthless game of UNO No Mercy, and just let go. It was the first time in five months I allowed myself to fully check out and enjoy the moment.

Sunday — the Body Says “Enough”

By Sunday morning, the crash came. I woke up with a cough, heavy fatigue, and the unmistakable sense that training had finally caught up to me. I spiraled through the day, frustrated, restless, and second-guessing myself. Rest doesn’t come easy for me — slowing down feels like failure.

But Rikki reminded me that setbacks don’t erase the work I’ve done. She pushed me into recovery mode, grounding me the way she always does. She’s my anchor when the training, pressure, and doubts threaten to pull me under.

By that evening, the cough had turned into something nastier. A pounding headache, green mucus, and chills told me this was more than just fatigue. And that’s where this training log ends — because the next chapter is one I didn’t see coming.

The next few days... 🤒

I don’t train again for almost four days. What started as a cough spiraled into a severe upper respiratory infection and an ear infection that had me sleeping on an ice pack and living in a steaming shower room. It was rough.

But that’s the thing about this journey — it’s not just about the miles, the splits, or the glory. It’s about the lows too, the moments where you’re forced to stop, listen, and heal.

More on that in the next Training Log.