whether or not I should
In life right now, everything is being measured in tiny increments. I recently passed four months post-surgery. I've been exercising again for eleven weeks. My long run has gotten five to ten minutes longer each week, last Tuesday I graduated from the pink 2-pound dumbbell to the blue 3-pound dumbbell in PT-prescribed bicep curls. My shoulder can tolerate fifteen more minutes on the trainer, I can unload the dishwasher, chop cucumbers (but not sweet potatoes), open windows, walk two dogs. To be in this place actually feels quite sweet; I have a phenomenal amount of appreciation for the small wins. I'm not thinking about when I can next race an ironman, I'm thinking about whether or not I can run ten miles next Sunday and how fucking happy I'll be to see that final mile flip over on the watch. After almost every huge race I've done, I've taken some time off. What that has meant in the past is a few days or maybe weeks spent noshing on the oh-so-trite cu