(Note: This was first posted a couple weeks ago when we didn't know how bad the situation was, but it was removed almost immediately once reality hit. However, it is again applicable. For some, this may be a repeat)
Dear Megan's Back,
It has come to my attention that you have been seriously trying to throw a wrench into the IM plans for our little darling. I'm afraid I might have some bad news for you.
See, I've been with Megan throughout these cold, miserable months, cheering her on as she pedaled away in her living room for all those hours and hours, rolling her ass out of bed in the mornings into freezing temps just to swim, encouraging her to get on the bike at 11PM even with an out-of-town guest to get the workout in, and forcing her to finish brutally long runs on an indoor treadmill while weirdo meathead trainers stared her down, all in the name of finishing this race.
Now, you seem to want to join to the fun, but my friend, you are a little to late. Maybe this is your way of retaliating for all the hard work she has put you through, or perhaps you have become jealous that her knees were getting all the attention in Doctor's office while you felt ignored, stiffened and compacted. But if you stopped being selfish for a moment, you would appreciate that, in this process, she grew healthier herself. You got stronger, she got strong, I got stronger - We all won. But now you want to pout, throw a tantrum. Why? She's done nothing but treat you right, laying belly-down on the ground in the gym and lifting her legs and arms like Superwoman just to toughen you up, and even got you a coach to keep you happy. And this is how you repay her? Pinching and bulging and tightening to the point that she can no longer ties her own shoes, go to the toilet unassisted, drive her sad little car, or sit through a 30 minute meeting?
So my friend, Mr. Back, here's what I have to say to you - Piss off. See, I am Megan's Will, and me and Meg - we have history. I may not have always been there when she needed me, but she needed to let me develop in her own time, and I let that happen. We grew together. So she loves me more. Plain and simple. And guess what? I'm stronger.
So even if you don't want to do this race, too bad. Her Doctor told her to do her stretches four times a day? She's been doing 'em eight. Go to the Doctor three times a week? Yeah she did, and without insurance. Pain killers? No way, but butt-loads of anti-inflammatory pills, and a new massage therapist to boot. Won't let her run anymore? She's been taking her ass to the pool and running herself in circles for hours. And the bike? Yeah, well, she put in her hours - she'll be fine. And in the in-between she's done EVERYTHING else her coach/doctor told her. And she's been doing it knowing that she may not get to the line, but has done her damnest to try. So there. We win.
Oh, and if your wondering about the weepy, defeated, woo-is-me posts prior to this - she's over it.
See you in AZ, bitch.
No Love for You-