The brain and the heart...a disconnect.

I've been writing a blog in my head for years. I write it while I'm on the bike trainer, spinning away in the garage. I write it when I'm trotting through the trails at Elison Park, enjoying the sounds and smells of nature. I write it when I'm mid-race, and I want to share it all with someone. The only glitch is that the words have never gone digital. It's all tucked away in my neat little brain. I'm not sure if anyone will ever read my words, but my brain is running out of room, so I'll begin to bleed the lines a little...

It just turns out that I'm very sad these days. I'm embarrassed to be sad because my life is brilliant. I have all the opportunities in the world for fulfillment. I'm well loved. I have superb friends. I live in luxury. I have constant adventures. I'm pretty much spoilt rotten. But these days I've got a pit in my stomach as I negotiate my way through the day, and I'm on the brink of tears much of the time. The problem is that I won't be competing at Ironman Wisconsin with my husband in 3 1/2 weeks. I've got an inflamed bursa and patellar tendonitis, and it's a show stopper. I'm devastated about it.

I've had to analyze why I'm so gutted. I think I would be less upset if something happened last minute, like stomach flu, or a bike mechanical. I might be wrong, but I feel most upset about missing a month of adventures with Andrew. He took some time off work, and we arranged daycare on certain days and had hours of shared training and adventures planned together. We had a taste of it two weeks ago, and it was the best day of my summer.

Last week the BPR crew had training days together, and stopped at our place to refuel mid-ride. I was so incredibly jealous of their need to pound the fluids and carbohydrates. Yes, I was even jealous when Emma smeared a peanut butter gel on her toast! Ok...not really...but you get the point. I crave that feeling after miles on the bike, skin thick with salt, when the body and mind has only one goal...to recover from the awesome effort.

Another reason I'm on the brink of tears all the time is that I NEED exercise. Really...I NEED it. Just ask my poor husband. I'm not even likeable without exercise. It's makes me wonder what I'll be like when I'm ninety, and perhaps not up for Ironman training. Oooohhh...I'll be a real treat.

I've given it a good shot with acupuncture, IMS, massage, stretching, rolling, positional changes on the bike, praying, begging, tantrumming, but alas...no change yet. I guess it's time to pick up my pom poms, and be the best support Andrew could have in Wisconsin. I expect that he will dig deeper than he's known, as I've impressed on him how fortunate he is to just get to the start line.

Rationally, I know that my feelings do not match the nature of the issue. Rationally I know that I should be disappointed and frustrated, annoyed perhaps, but not grieving. My brain just has to communicate better with my heart. Therapy is on it's way. Tomorrow I've got the girls coming for a swim and coffee. With this crew I can count on laughter therapy and caffeine, both of which make me just a little bit more tolerable to be around.