I think someone might be sending me a message. This reminds me of that joke about the guy sitting on top of is flooding house and while a boat, a plane and a helicopter try to rescue him, but he refuses to take the help because he says god will rescue him. Then after he drowns, he is in heaven and asks god, “why didn’t you save me” and god answers “I sent a boat and plane and a helicopter, what else did you want me to do”.
My story is this, I broke my tailbone in mid-October, I took a week off training, and then moved to a modified training schedule, still competing in all the races I had already registered for. Well, the tailbone pain just kept getting worse instead of better. I know that my doctor said to take it easy, but I think his idea of easy was not my idea of easy. So when late December rolled around, I decided it was time to come off the easy training plan and back on to the normal training plan. Get this, my tailbone started hurting even more, I just couldn’t figure out why it was hurting so bad. So after another visit to the doctor, he said that he wanted me to take 6 weeks off of running and biking. So if you know me, you know I took this very badly.
Ok, so I saw the doctor on Friday, and the way my mind works, I figured I would give this taking time off thing some good thought before committing to it. That means I would go ahead and ride on the snowy trails on Saturday and run the Castlewood trails on Sunday, then on Monday I would start my 6 weeks off, well maybe.
So 45 minutes into our run on Sunday, I’m running along telling Chuck about a movie I watched that I knew he would hate and the next thing I know I’m on the ground, rolling around, chanting in my head, “it doesn’t hurt that bad, don’t cry, don’t cry”. Chuck runs over to me and says please tell me you didn’t land on your butt. I of course replied, “no butt is fine, but everything else hurts”. Chuck grabs my arm and pulls me off the ground, after a couple minutes of walking, as I finish the story about the movie, we start running again. We finish another hour of running, then I pull my bloody gloves off to check the damage, then I pull down my bloody tights to see how bad the knees are. Who knew that the dirt feels like concrete when it’s 28 degrees outside.
So now I have to think was the doctor telling me to slow down my first offer of help, then his telling me not to race, the second offer, and now the falling down, my third and last chance to get it through my thick head, that I have to take some time off.
Is the moral to the story, don’t tell Chuck about horse movies, because he hates horse movies.