Warning: The following post is not pretty. This is not (despite brief attempts at humor) a happy post - feel free to simply switch to another site, and tune in tomorrow, as I am sure by that time some bluebirds and rainbows and puppydogs would have crossed my path and the post will be back to it's normal peppy self. If you chose to stay, you might need to shower off the ugliness in the end. Consider yourself warned.
Today was about as bad as it gets for my back injury. It truly makes no sense. I string together a couple of good days this weekend and then BAM! it hits so bad it gives me blinding migraines and numb feet.
I haven't had a whoa-is-me post in a while and I am owed, I feel. Here goes.
So in addition to the type of pain that sends you home from work early, I discovered today that I managed to grow myself out of another pair of jeans and another bra. Well, at least the underwear have company. And doesn't misery love that?
I am pretty much writing off all racing this summer (and no, that's not me being dramatic - there is simply no time to train if I can't even manage a week in-full without this pain).
And finally, I am trying to find just about anybody to take the blame I am willing to throw. Most of the time its my back Doctor - for not knowing to even take a look at the back throughout training and instead focusing on the knees, despite being a back Doctor. Tonight it was my coach, who had the misfortune of emailing me the day before today with some lame-brained idea of doing the elliptical this week for (oooohhhh, wait for it...get excited.... and jealous....) 15 minutes!!!!!!
Yes, this is what I am reduced to. Oh, but I get to water run for 15 as well, so I guess that makes it all worth it.
Again - WTF?!?!?
Earlier it was my brother, who managed to be the only one not present at my dad's house this weekend to help clean, thus leaving me to haul all the stuff (mostly his) into storage, and then mop the floor of the basement (where he lived) all my my broken-back self. He better stay out of my dark alleys.....
But really, it all comes down to being mad at myself for pushing the IM thing too soon. But I hate that feeling, so I would rather target unsuspecting people that will never know my seething, boiling internal wrath, mostly because I am too big of a baby to actually verbalize this stuff out loud.
Oh, and I am still salty that, despite the fact I live WELL below the poverty line, I still, in fact, owed the f-ing federal government almost two thousand dollars. So last week, the target was my accountant, as I am sure that, in addition to the forced check-writing, the stress triggered some muscles in my back to re-engage the spasms. Or something. Whatever.
And that's all I have. I am sure by tomorrow my little cry-fest will be a thing of the past, but I needed to vent it today.