No Happy Fun Day

The spirit is more than willing.
The body, however, is a bit dinged up.
Eight minutes after 5 a.m. on a Sunday morning – there’s not even a glint of the coming sunrise – and I’ve got an ice pack on my left shoulder, a heating pad wrapped on my right forearm and my left big toe? I just keep it out of the way, for fear of bumping the in-grown toenail that developed after a botched grooming attempt, followed by getting it jammed by the vacuum.
I’m a fucking mess.
And another beautiful day looks like it is about to blossom.
The forearm? Tendonitis. It’s better than it was last week, and with Stevo’s help, it’ll even better this week (although my brain still debates whether to just have my doctor jam a needle full of cortisone into it).
My shoulder? Friday to Saturday, I slept on it wrong. Really wrong. And this is not the shoulder to fuck with. Four separations, one torn rotator cuff and damage to the glenoid labrum later, yes, I baby it. Piss-poor luck on that front; I was asleep when the damage was done.
The big toe? It’s a mess. I’ll spare you the gory details, only to say that I’ve never before have had to see a doctor for an in-grown toenail. And I’m seriously thinking of going to Urgent Care to get it taken care of it now, today.
I loathe to be this slow, this feeble. I’ve got things to do, places to go.
Captain Penguin offered a newly-designed, 14-foot kayak for all my demonstration needs – this boat is as fast as a 17-foot sea kayak, but made by a whitewater boat company, so you can beat he shit out of it and not worry – and I had to decline.
I turned down two mountain bike ride invites.
I actually took a Saturday mid-afternoon nap (chissakes; I mean, it felt good, but what a waste of daylight).
I’ve got a training schedule to keep, not only for a Mt. Shasta summit attempt, but for the possibility that I’ll be named to the Backpacker Continental Divide Trail mapping project (I thought it was a done-deal, but the first team was named recently and it’s all ex-Navy SEALS and Eco-Challenge participants).
Ice and rest is boring.
But in the end, it’ll get me back on the path sooner.
Is a virtue, I know.


Anonymous said...

Dang....don't I feel like a shallow beee-otch for being pissy over a bad hair day (or two)