My Pity Pot Overflowed

So I am working my way back.

I think taking a week off was helpful, as it was nice to just sort of step away from my own whining about my back and the race and the blah, blah, blah that I was moaning about to make my own ears bleed. I was feeling bad enough on my own that the guilt of involving other people was just making it worse. Plus (and I totally hear the cry-babyness of this) it was kinda hard to read about other people's training while I sat here like a mope, crying about getting confirmation emails about my "Out" status.

I figured this would be a good time to re-emerge from my self-imposed seclusion, wipe the Tostidos Lime chip crumbs of my shirt, toss out the leftover cheesecake, pick the popcorn out of my hair, put down the remote and find my swim suit and heart rate monitor before I completely disappear into sorry-for-myself oblivion.

Why now? Because this is THE weekend. As a matter of fact, I should be writing this post from the comfort of my rented house in Arizona, fresh out of the shower after a quick swim or run while I contemplate the nearing Ironman race with a cold beer on a warm night.

But alas, as you know, the IM dream was not meant to be. At least not this year.

Frankly, in the end, my back would have never healed in time. Its been five weeks since the injury, but yet it feels like five years. Things are slowly, SLOWLY progressing, and some days are better then others, but I guess that's how it goes with these things.

My coach was hoping to have me back drilling in the pool this week, but I never felt quite good enough to go. I am hoping this weekend or next week, at the latest. That is all I can do right now, but seriously, I don't care. I need to do something. Anything.

And seriously, torturing myself with secret visits to the IM AZ website are doing no one any good at this point.

So here I am.

(golf claps)

Okay. That was a bit anti-climatic.