run this amazing day

I had a second round of prolotherapy done yesterday. Backing up.  The week after the first round was horrible (I'm a walking commercial for this treatment not to mention lifestyle, I know).  I had read plenty of cases where an athlete was treated and then happily back at her life a few days later and that did not happen to me.  I slept like crap the first 3-4 nights because I couldn't lay on my back and I couldn't turn over and I couldn't lay on any one side too long and at some point Graham stretched and poked me in the injection site and I woke the entire house up shrieking.  I don't remember when exactly but at some point I was in so much pain that I stood in the shower letting tears leak out of my face, convinced that I would never swim/bike/run or even walk/stand/sit again.  I spent a lot of time in January trying stay reasonable and calm and not fall off the ledge but failed a couple of times, and that was one. I came through Heather's office & hea

I hate to call this an update, because, well, update  reminds me that I haven't been taking time to be in this space for a while.  Last summer, when everything in life was crazy, I kept on posting because I like the overly-public journal that I've created here with all my babbling and selfies and random quotes over the last six years.  It's become part of how I process; that's the only reason I'm still writing, because it's important to me and not for anyone else.  And I've had an inkling that I wanted to sit down and record what was going on as I've worked through this mess but then there would be another low and I'd be spitting fuck it  to anyone that would listen and suddenly seven weeks has gone by and it's all kind of a blur. January.  As a whole: a wash.  After the first of who-knows-how-many-by-now rounds of aggressive dry needling and yank-thunk, I got the okay to try an easy run.  I think I did forty minutes.  Two or three days later

So, I'm hyper mobile. When I was younger, it was good for a neat party trick.  I can fit my large-for-a-woman fist in my mouth (jaw hyper mobility), tuck my heel behind my head (hip hyper mobility), do a split, and do some of the crazier yoga poses, especially when pre-lubricated with tequila.  The downside to  hyper mobility is that as a triathlete or almost any kind of athlete, we need a certain amount of stiffness, resistance, strength to perform.  My pelvis is hyper mobile and along with that comes a truckload of problems that I believe are the root of nearly every injury I've ever had.  The biggest issue is that my pelvis doesn't like to let my sacrum stay where it is.  Instead, it twists and rotates and as of last week, four times in my life has gotten so completely jammed up that it takes away my ability to train or even walk around, sit, stand, take selfies pain-free.  I believe that what happens - and let's just clear it up now that I am not a doctor and my a

I've never finished an ironman feeling quite so peaceful.  It's different than feeling done kaput finished, I'm not ready to wash my hands of this distance no matter how I felt at mile 60 of the bike.   But, like everyone posts haughtily on instagram all the time , I do think that I have finally learned how to honestly be in love with the process.  With where I am, just me, not comparing myself to anyone else around me and where they are and how fast they got there and what their story looks like and how mine doesn't measure up.  My day went how I wanted it to go, start to finish.  That's what I care about, not about the time, or the heat, or the chafing, or the gut bomb, or the blisters or whatever else I could use to bring it down.  And with that comes peace.  Maybe I'm growing up.   The week after ironman, I did almost nothing.  I had this idea that I would have so much extra time in my life since I wasn't training, but instead my body ate up all those