Stationary cycling AND an hour of C+C Music Factory? I'M IN! LET'S GO SPINNING!
WEATHER: Hot and humid. Which I sort of love.
MILES THIS WEEK: 19.
WHERE TO: Tralalalala, fields of happy green non-injured beauty, covered in bunnies and flowers and, yeah, OK, a few blisters.
When we last left off, we had worked our way through Stage 2, which involves copious amounts of anger and questionable ways of dealing with it.
And now, reluctantly, I invite you to enter
Stage 3: Mourning
Alright, sweetheart. Let it out. Cry open-mouthed, choking sobs and bang your fists on the floor. Drink a pint of Wild Turkey. Make and eat an entire loaf of banana-peanut-butter-chocolate-chip bread WITHOUT EVEN BAKING IT. <rubs your back, holds you close> There, there. Yes, I realize that you just vommed whiskey/batter all over my chest. It’s OK. Shhhhh-
<smacks you upside the head>
Ok, 30 seconds is up. Mourning is over. Now it’s time for:
Dear World: I have finally found a use for Limp Bizkit. You are welcome.
MILES: 2. Yes, 2.
MILES THIS WEEK: <sigh> 2.
WHERE TO: <headdesk> The treadmill at the Y.
MOOD: THE COMEBACK CONTINUES so BLAMMO!!!!!
To recap: Last time, we worked our way through Injury Stage One (Denial), and we are now able to admit that we are injured. Of course, today of all days was the wrong day to be fresh out of denial, for today was the day of the BOSTON MARATHON.
“Hey!” say your well-meaning friends, who care deeply about you and thus are interested in your extracurriculars. “Are you running Boston this year? Good luck!”
And you, in your infinite maturity, for you have worked through Denial, will respond with a jaunty, “Been there, done that!” Or perhaps a shrug and a, “Nawwww. I’m taking the year off.” Or maybe you’re VERY strong and can say, matter-of-factly, “No; I’m injured. Maybe next year!” Semicolon and all! Good for you!
Yes, you might be injured, but you are also most definitely a MIGHTY PRINCESS FORGED IN THE HEAT OF BATTLE.
WEATHER: Unseasonably warm.
MILES: A few. Sort of.
MILES THIS WEEK: A few. Sort of.
WHERE TO: Wandering aimlessly and listlessly in the vast and lonesome desert that the injured runner trods, dragging my gimpy foot behind me as I wail to the heavens in agony.
MOOD: Improving. Which isn’t saying much.
My dear readers, it has been too long. And so the blog makes it TRIUMPHANT EFFING RETURN with a new and informative topic:
HOW TO DEAL WITH AN INJURY. Allll 12 stages.
So. Put on yer ass-kicking boots and grab a juicebox and a Percocet and a girly mag. It’s gonna be a wild ride.