Wednesday, June 16, 2010

What You Do When You Are Recuperating

I have decided I will read the whole internet this week, or at least as much as I can on each laptop battery charge, inbetween reading Stardust, (I liked the movie because I like fantasy and sparkles and unicorns, okay?  I never did grow out of that stage), the first of the Twilight books, Between A Rock and a Hard Place, a book on women's climbing, and watching Becoming Jane.  And if my girlfriends make it down here, we have Kuch Kuch Hota Hai on tap for them.  M, being a wise, kind, caring, wonderful man, knows when to just put up with the chick flicks.  He also sometimes gives in to my crazier movie urges, like when I begged to watch 2012 for no other reason except "Stuff blows up!"

I've gotten quite a few emails from people wondering when I could pretty please post my next training update.  I didn't realize I had so many fans- thanks, all y'all!  I can't swim for two weeks (while the incisions heal), but hope to be back on the running and biking gridiron soon.  Already, the pain is less than it was before the operation.  Isn't that awful?  I can't even stand up straight at the moment and have no abdominal power, but I can say in dead seriousness that I already have less pain than before surgery.  Damn female bits.

I have gotten some cake out of the deal, though I still have lust for a nice german chocolate cake.  These are the best ones I've seen, so far, though:  with many thanks to Jen at CakeWrecks, with whom I share certain issues!  She doesn't, however, mention the narcotic feeling.  I think someone showed me a film on that once.

My dumb cats are pretty decent feline nursemaids.  They only stepped on my stomach once, and were so upset they ran away to eat on my get-well plant.

In the meantime, though, I'll look forward to getting back to training.  The last few runs I was able to do, (before the lastest wave of monthly agony started with the searing back-stabbing, leg-buckling, porcelain-goddess-worshipping pain), I actually didn't feel like dying.  I felt like I was actually moving, and picking up my legs, and progressing forward.  It was a strange feeling.  Then when i couldn't run, I felt... sad... as if I was missing something.  It was not the same sort of missing as when I miss riding my bike, but is it possible that the running WON'T kill me after all?

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