In the past week or so I've been off the boil with my training. My knee finally fought off the infection and dried up, so I've been able to get back on my bike for the past couple of days. My shoulder is still grumpy with me, despite a massage yesterday from Joy the seriously serious Chinese accupressure specialist with pointy elbows; my right hip bruise is still all bruisey, and my right knee still more crunchy than a bag of rice bubbles. Awesome. I was ordered to avoid the water until my knee dried up and dropped off - so hopefully I'll be back into it this week.
I'm working about seven days straight this coming week, as several of the other trainers has a boxing course to go to next Sunday which I can't go to for fiscal reasons. Yes, Sunday is normally a work day for me, but I'd been rostered off this one time due to working through Easter. To be honest, I need the dosh (incoming quarterly power bill, need to change my Yeppoon flights and have a pair of K-Swiss shoes on hold) so I'm happy to hit it seven days straight once in a while!
The only early start is Friday morning (as per normal, opening the gym at 6am) so I'm probably going to get the share car on Thursday night after my shift, drive it home, and be back for my shift bright and squirly on Friday morning. I can probably get about 1hr of extra sleep that way and I need it! Plus, I can cart all the stuff I need to take for training in without lugging it for at least part of the journey. Thank god for small mercies.
I've now been car-less for almost a year and to be honest, most of the time I don't miss it. Living 800m from the tri club means I don't have to drive to races. I don't have huge insurance or rego bills, no petrol price worries, no breakdown worries and no blowing up on the side of the road on Xmas eve worries! I can get pretty much everywhere on a train, tram or bus (or combination of these), and if I'm really desperate there's the share car - or a taxi.
The whipper snapper has been on my case about training for the past few days and is starting to bug me about my weight loss. I've been set a challenge to lose 5kg by the end of May - I don't want to drop it too fast because it makes Hannibal the gallstone angry. If I can get to that 5kg goal by the end of May I'll be stoked, but I'm not going to go crazy trying to do that. It would be nice - I'm pretty sure Dad won't recognise me in June with so many kilograms of fat gone already - but it will happen when it happens.
It's a bit rich having some whipper snapper 20 year old who's never had any bodyfat or a past history of emotional eating or GF or knee recons or fallen off a treadmill at high speed or a bloody gallstone tell you all kinds of stuff you're not trying to hear. I know what I'm doing - I know what makes Hannibal angry and to be honest, if I get to Yeppoon and Hannibal decides he needs to see the outside world on or around race day because I lost too much weight too fast, I'm going to be REALLY PEEVED!
And, as the resident snapper whipper, I need to tell you that I cannot face fish at all since that episode of crazy spinning room and power spewing a few weeks back. Can't, shant, won't - I'm not interested. The idea of eating fish makes me want to spew, and looking at it in the snaplock bags in my freezer also makes me want to have a long conversation with the big white telephone. I might try a piece of NZ snapper in NZ when I'm back at the end of June - we'll see. By then hopefully I can face it again. It was weeks after the chicken episode last year before I went near anything that clucked, so stay tuned.
Gotta go, very tired and sore from mag trainer session and need a shake and some zzz's!
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