Sunday was the first day of vacation. We "enjoyed" our long runs in La Jolla. Tim ran the first half of his run solo, then joined me for the second half. He needs to run at a faster pace than I run if he wants to qualify for Boston. Although, I brag about dropping boys, truth be told I couldn't qualify for Boston as a 30-34 year old male. I might fuss about him needing to do his long runs without me slowing him down but they do have their benefits. The beauty of it is when I get home breaky is waiting. Thanks Tim.
I'm sure you all are wondering what I was doing during the first hour of Tim's run. I am sure you would all like to hear that I was saving the world, cleaning the house, or at least reading blogs. Truth is I was sleeping soundly. I tried to get up. I meant to wake up, but I just didn't. I guess I needed the sleep. I heard somewhere that sleep is the magical place where you convert all of the miles you have logged into speed, fitness, muscular and performance gains. It also helps elevate and balance your mood, making one more pleasant for others to be around. Interestingly I think I was asleep until mile 7 or so.
After the run I arrived home to a steaming cup of hot cocoa. Tim and I hung out/ recovered from the mornings work outs and then took "Sweet Thunder" into the cycle spa. It was a good time to get Sweet Thunder in shape for the rest of the season. I don't know what kind of trouble Sweet Thunder and Princess would get into if left together unattended for a week. Sweet Thunder was originally afraid to stay at the cycle spa alone. She quickly changed her tune when she saw her sister bike "Speed Racer" . I just hope if those two bikes go out for a late night rendezvous up Cabrillo they get themselves back into the shop/spa for their scheduled maintenaces. I also warned Sweet Thunder that Speed Racer was racing this weekend and she should not be tempting her to ride. I explained to Sweet Thunder just because her race wasn't for another 4 weeks didn't mean she should be trying to temp all the other bikes into riding.They might have a different training program and different goals. Sweet Thunder doesn't mean to derail other bikes from their programs. She just gets excited and likes company.
After the trip to Moment Cycle Sport, Tim and I discussed what to do with the rest of the day. I knew I wanted to get in the ocean and swim. Tim sort of wanted to swim but I could tell he was super psyched to mtn. bike. He had that delighted twinkle in his eye when he mentioned it. I told him to go mtn biking with his friend and I could swim alone. No problem.
I was a little suprised after riding to the cove, swimming to the shores and back,showering and riding home that Tim wasn't done mtn biking. The swim was delightful. As I swam back the sun was just setting. The seals were very noisy and rambunctious but none came near me. I feel very good swimming in the ocean. Smooth, rhythmic, and efficient. This is not something I can say for racing or the pool. Finally, I have figured out why. Obviously there is a pod of dolphins that have adopted me. They swim just far enough in front of me that I can't see them. They create a draft for me. They are my fairy god -dolphins.
Anyway I was home for a while making and dinner when I got a phone call from Tim. He mentioned he got a little scratched up and was going to Thorton (hospital) to clean it out properly. I'm sure Tim was a joy of a patient as Doctor's and Nurses are the worst patients ever. Tim's phone call did not pass the sniff test. I knew it was worse then he was letting on. Tim wouldn't go to Thorton ER while on vacation and he didn't send a text pic of the little scrape. If it was a little scrape he would have sent the pic. 4 stitches and a few hours later Tim came home. Later he sent me the picture.
Monday morning. I awoke bright and early and headed to masters. It was sort of surreal because for the first time in I don't know how long I didn't wince with when the alarm went off. Wow. I cruised down to Coggan and began warming up before the set was even written on the board . I didn't waste and energy thinking about how cold my arms were. I just powered through the workout and got it done. I finished the work out and quickly grabbed my gear bag. I was rewarded with a sharp sting in my hand. I looked down to find a bee hanging by its stinger to my hand. I didn't really think twice about it. I shook off the bee and yanked out the stinger. I hit the shower and pedaled home.
I arrived home just in time help Tim with his dressing change. Big, tall, tough Tim was a bit woozy in dealing with his own wound. Fit, healthy guys in their 20's-30's are typically the ones that pass out when they have medical procedures. Luckily, I conivnced Tim to sit down and sip some water while I attempted to change the dressing. My hand was starting to swell and become clumsy but I did my best to fake it's function to ensure my husband did not pass out. We managed to get it together and get to the airport on time. The combination of Tim's helmet hanging from his backpack and his bandaged arm created quite the conversation.
Tim was in a lot of pain and refusing to take an analgesic. I was getting itchier by the minute. I figured we couldn't both be uncomfortable for the plane ride as we might take it out on each other. I bought some benadryl and figured it would knock me out for the flight. I would be all better when I woke up. The benadryl did knock me out. I did not however make the swelling better and I awoke to a hand that looked like it belonged to cast member of "The Biggest Loser." Oh boy, it was going to be a long day of traveling. Imagine my parents suprise when they fetched Tim and I from the airport. Tim's arm wrapped and looking broken, my arm swollen and looking broken. My mom mentioned the poster that once hung where she worked. It had a picture of an old truck and said "Wear Out, Don't Rust Out." She said it reminded her of Tim and I. What can I say? Trouble just finds me.
In order to post the picture of Tim above I had to post this picture. Me icing my hand, sedated with bena"drool". My mom wanted me to put on my Team Fatty jersey and pose my hand by a plate of cookie crumbs but I just couldn't get up for it. I was too busy pleading my case that my legs were just fine and I could run as soon as the bena"drool" cleared.
And we did run. How could we deny our mascot Sparky a good run? I wish I could run as fast as Sparky but he has 4 legs and I only have 2. I think where he really gets his advantage is his 20 hour/day sleep routine.
Tim and I are a little banged up but don't worry we'll fight back, then we will "WIN."