So it’s been 7 months. Who knew?
Here’s a rundown of the past 7 months: get back from Antarctica, race (literally) the next day, train a bit, crash on a railroad track during the Rainpocalypse, race (literally) the next day, find myself injured by the following Thursday.
If you are keeping track, that’s 25 days from return to injury. Nailed it.
I oh-so-smartly tried to keep training through my moderate calf strain and, wouldn’t you know it, my Achilles says stop it. I attempt an Olympic distance triathlon, only to have a cold water reaction during the swim and, to make matters worse, even the frigid Lopez Lake water can’t numb my achilles pain. I limp to transition and throw in the towel.
Six weeks off.
An exorbitant number of guest lectures/presentations/general work upon my return.
Two bouts of bunny-sitting.
And now we’re here.
Where is here? Here is amidst a really dumb 17 day stretch in which I’m well undertrained, yet I for-some-moronic-reason race three times (15k, half ironman, 5k) and go to a wedding. Get ready for some race recaps over the next week, because I have many.
I’m back, I think.