Ugh, I hate this fucking thing sometimes. Yes, blog. I’m ignoring you.

Anyway, I haven’t yet called the doctor to discuss my MRI results (because I owed them money that I just didn’t have until the US Government handed over the excess tax $$ I’ve been letting them hold onto), but the scribbles on the bottom of the “please call us” sheet point to arthritis in my knee.

It stands to reason that my other knee is in an earlier stage of the same thing because the pain there is similar though not quite so acute. Matter of time, though. Matter of time.

Getting old sucks balls.

I also have a touch of arthritis in the pinky finger of my left hand, but that’s something might be left over from the summer of 1992 and the Magical Mystery Disease I had back then. My hands have never again been quite right. I can ignore that for the most part, however.

The knee thing, though… I’m concerned about that. I am sure there are lots of fun things like drugs and physical therapy that will help me in the short term, but I’m looking at an Ironman here, and just thinking about the amount of work I will have to do is making my knees cry. I’m going to have to really plan and work closely with my doctor to get through this thing in one piece. Ack.

Right now I’m suffering from a motivation problem. At best I am managing to get to the gym 3 days a week, but it’s not enough. The weather has been up and down, so run/walking outside is more or less up to a coin toss, and even then, I have to be careful not to let my hands or feet get too cold because I am prone to frostbite even when it’s not super-cold out (thanks, marching band!). I AM A MESS.

I need new shoes. But I want to talk to the doctor about that first – if going to a minimal shoe will work for me, then I want to try that before I shell out for another pair of Asics Gel Nimbus, which have served me well. Maybe I need to change up my form – I already know that if I change it up so I’m landing more on my forefoot than on my heel things will improve, but THAT IS SO DAMN HARD TO DO. I feel like the fattest, slowest gazelle in the jungle when I try to run that way and it feels UNNATURAL which is going to be a problem over time, I think. I suppose I could get used to it eventually but I look like a goddamn loon when I’m doing it.

That doesn’t usually bother me, though. I could give a shit what I look like when I’m moving through space. As long as all my jiggly bits are decently covered and my underwear isn’t crawling up my ass, I am oblivious to the picture I paint as I run. It’s probably pretty hilarious, though.

I’m also a little worried about my support system. I don’t think Freddie is up to the challenge, to be quite honest. He *says* he is, and I’m sure he *thinks* he is, but he has NO IDEA what it takes to support a triathlete through training and racing. I DO. I’ve done it for three Ironman races and quite a few smaller races. It’s hard goddamned work, actually. Yes, yes, doing an Ironman isn’t exactly a leisurely stroll. I know that. But being the support crew… that’s something else again.

I’m curious as to how many triathletes have ever had to support a spouse or whatever during that person’s training. At one point, Freddie was under the impression that he’d train for an Ironman while I’m training for mine, and I just laughed because then what? We’d have to hire a nanny and a housekeeper and a cook because I will NOT be able to do it all every day. I will die of exhaustion first. So, I’m concerned. If he thinks he’s going to be able to work full-time AND train for his own race AND support ME in MY TRAINING, he is on some serious drugs.

I’m sure there are families out there who can do it, but I don’t think my family is one of them.

That’s not going to stop me, though. I am very good at putting my foot down and getting my way in this household. There are plenty of things that I compromise on or let go, but this isn’t going to be one of them.

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