Okay, okay, so that last few weeks of posts have been, well, sappy. I re-read my posts daily, and even I get sort of squirmy reading how mushy I get. The way I have been writing, I figure I am one entry short of posting pictures of kittens, rainbows, newborn babies, and cookie recipes.
Not that I don't like cookies (I do), or babies (as long as they are not mine), or even kittens (as long as they are of the stuffed variety...or under the tires on my car).
I kid, I kid.
Please, no hate-comments from those cat lovers out there. I would never actually run over a cat.
So while I would love to brag on my new boots (still hot), or all the work I have been doing (lots of it), or even the new honey in my life (it's going great), I think it's time to talk training. And by training, I also mean back rehab.
As I posted earlier, I went running with Cheese last Monday, after which I was basically crippled again. I stuck it out (like the idiot I am) until I couldn't do it anymore by Friday. I broke down and called my doctor. By the end of the weekend, I felt a bit better, so I did was any smart triathlete would do - went running again.
And guess what? Not such a good idea.
What a surprise.
I just love touching that hot stove.
This morning was more painful, but I saw the doctor this afternoon. This is the same voodoo witch doctor guy that pretty much sprinkles fairy dust and prescribes eye of newt to cure my ills. As though I make fun of him, he still seems to fix me. And today wasn't any different.
He did all these weird ass things that resulted in very loud snaps and pops. He did everything from play with/massage my feet, to lay me on my side and sit on me to crack my back. And yes, I paid for it.
Hmmm...sounds a lot like the weekends of Cheese's college years...
But I have to say, as I sit here typing this and having just injested the last 800 milligrams of my daily 2400milligram Ibuprofen program, I seem to feel a little better.
Maybe I should go for a run and test it out.