Tuesday, March 29, 2011

Riding the Crazy Train

So I’m out of Russian chicks and all sorts of nonsense, so let’s talk about me. 

Well first, let’s just enjoy the fact that I was listening to Crazy Train (yes, by Ozzy) and my kids said turn it up please.  Seriously.  No, they don’t love Satan and neither as far as I know are marked with the number of the beast or even a small less harmful beast like our guinea pig Liza.  They heard it on a kids movie, which means kids movies are now completely made for parents my age, which is old. 

So I was sick, like forever.  And even though bronchitis isn’t technically or remotely cured with antibiotics, a small percentage is caused by something that can be killed by antibiotics.  It also turns out that rest is about the only other thing that can get rid of it.  Next year, we’re going to someplace warm on a regular basis and if I get sick, I’m seriously going by myself until I’m better.  It would seem that I’m not so delightful when I don’t feel good.  I don’t really even care for myself. 

So then I’m nearly all better except I do choke while running hard instead of coughing but that just seems normal now.  It probably don’t look pretty and I likely sound like grandpa on his last few breaths. 

So I start swimming and biking and running and then ouch.  I can’t stand up. 

And my back hurts, like an old person says.  I would have totally hit that button on my necklace because it felt like an emergency.  Instead I stretched and stretched and at one point I could probably smell my chamois (this is the thing on your bike shorts that I refer to as my sham-wow).  Then it hurt more and I got a massage and that but less than the original hurt.  And then I start to mentally figure out how I’m going to get out of the Rev 3 half iron in Portland in July and if I should even race at all and maybe I should just enjoy golf and move on. 

Then I got physical therapy and Doug said, I stretched too much and I’m way to stretched on my bike which seemed weird because I have been riding a good 7-9 hrs a week on my bike since October without much of a break and no issues.  And it got worse.  And I could ride maybe 50 mins.  Then none. 

So instead I ran a bunch.

And then on a weird whim, I wanted to move my saddle up a tick and forward a tick. 

And then while on that whim, I notice that my saddle had slid ALL THE WAY back on me.  And then I felt dumb and wondered how it happened but more importantly why I didn’t even notice.  And we’re not talking about 1cm or 3mm which might still be a fairly large change for a bike saddle, I’m talking not about pop music but like over an inch.  If someone moved my picnic table seat an inch I’d notice it.  If you changed my jean size an inch I’d notice.  So there.  Problem fixed.  Except I still haven’t really ridden much in weeks, so I’m going to CA to go ride for a few days because it’s still 43 and cold and raining here.  It might be spring but I’m still riding in all my winter bike stuff. 

So there. 

But then I’m going to make this super awesome sounding oatmeal and then these muffins that I eat in about 48 hours.

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