Image: www.mo-kenyan.com
So, I received my first tri kit in the mail yesterday. I was so afraid I'd look like this dude. And, to my body-dismorphic mind's eye, I DID look like this dude. In reality, I looked like an athlete with just a few doughy bits - like warm soft dinner biscuits...slathered in butter. Now, my first triathlon is not until March, so I have a little over a month to build some confidence in that Take A Look At Me Now triathlon gear. To wear down my own defenses, I'm going to start wearing that motherfucka everywhere. It will be on me in the pool, in Spin class, out on a run, and even once to the gas station, "pretending" I didn't have time to change. If I can do these things, then come triathlon time I'll be able to feel quite comfortable in my new uniform.
Outfit aside, I only have my training to worry about now. I was proud of my leg presses this morning until I almost killed myself using the bathroom. I wish I was joking. And dig this - it wasn't my muscles that hurt. Rather, I went to hob-a-squat on ye olde throne and this tendon or something in my knee felt suddenly like a live electrical wire spitting out volts of vengeance upon my poor leg. I shrieked in pain and shock, on the verge of tears. The ladies in the office came running. "Are you okay in there?" They asked. "Yeah, sure, fine - just doing my morning duty." I explained. I realize I made myself sound like some hemorrhoid bedeviled geriatric, but I didn't know how to say, "I sat down to pee and got Voodoo knee." It's okay - they already think I'm odd.
My damn husband got a PR at our 10k this weekend, and I'm still reliably average in performance. I promised myself that after our vacation next week (Mardi Gras...fuck yeah), I'd kick it into high gear - cut out the cookies and up the mileage. Yet, at the end of rough day at work, wine and cheese sounds like the best medicine. Still working on that balance thing, obvs. To be continued...
Outfit aside, I only have my training to worry about now. I was proud of my leg presses this morning until I almost killed myself using the bathroom. I wish I was joking. And dig this - it wasn't my muscles that hurt. Rather, I went to hob-a-squat on ye olde throne and this tendon or something in my knee felt suddenly like a live electrical wire spitting out volts of vengeance upon my poor leg. I shrieked in pain and shock, on the verge of tears. The ladies in the office came running. "Are you okay in there?" They asked. "Yeah, sure, fine - just doing my morning duty." I explained. I realize I made myself sound like some hemorrhoid bedeviled geriatric, but I didn't know how to say, "I sat down to pee and got Voodoo knee." It's okay - they already think I'm odd.
My damn husband got a PR at our 10k this weekend, and I'm still reliably average in performance. I promised myself that after our vacation next week (Mardi Gras...fuck yeah), I'd kick it into high gear - cut out the cookies and up the mileage. Yet, at the end of rough day at work, wine and cheese sounds like the best medicine. Still working on that balance thing, obvs. To be continued...