I am smitten. No, wait, that’s not what I mean. I have been smited. Yes, I think that’s more like it.
This CRETIN dost believeth that she hast becometh a runner! We art angry!
-Triathlon Gods. Yes they talk funny.
I spent the first few days assuring myself that I was merely sore from my epic achievement of running 26.94km, which is nearly 27km.
SIDENOTE: Yes I’ve taken to casually mentioning the distance as often as any conversation allows. In Aldi this morning the man at the checkout said ‘that’s 93 dollars and 10 cents please’ and I replied ‘Sorry did you say 26 dollars and 94 cents? Cos what a coincidence, that is actually how many kilometres I ran last Sunday! Ha!’
So on Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday – because my legs were ‘sore’ – I took gentle strolls and focused on my swimming to ‘let my legs recover’.
On Thursday I tried a bike ride and a short ROTB (run off the bike) which totaled 200 metres before I was doubled over in pain.
I pleaded with Matilda (an angel dog and therefore – logically – in possession of a direct line to the Triathlon Gods) to let me learn my lesson some other way.
But it was no good.
So it is time to announce: I am injured. Continue reading