After discovering the reality of my delicate little injury – the add-da-duh-ddaah-ctor (the correct pronunciation when you’re in pain at the track), I’ve begun the process of healing.
I did my long, slow run with super-short strides and avoided making it worse. But then I really backed off. I was a good girl.
In my attempt to mend, I did everything but train. Instead I:
• Worked on a bunch of rush deadlines over the weekend.
• Met my bike training buddy Artie for margaritas and to get more dirt on the Tour de France.
• Watched three baseball games on my laptop. This homesick New Englander gets her Red Sox fix through MLB.tv.
• Watched What It Takes – a documentary on the lives of 4 top Ironman triathletes.
• Read a bunch of a triathlon blogs and chapters from The Essential Swimmer.
• Heard about the fabulous Master’s swim workout I missed.
• Heard about Maru finishing her first Olympic triathlon in Hawaii where she raised money for Team in Training. Way to go girl!
And now, I’m getting darn right restless. I’ve reached a pivotal point where my intelligent side is duking it out with my impatient side. I don’t want to lose any fitness. I don’t want to blow my entire season with a chronic injury. Tonight I’ll try another swim with the pull buoy between my legs. Yup, I’ve got a theme going here. (See last Friday’s post, if you’re at all confused by that last line.)