Last weekend we moved, by the way (my sister didn’t know that). We moved into Steve’s parent’s temporarily. Right now, we have piles of boxes and bags in a small room, which means it only takes like 30 minutes to get dressed. Obviously, our work is done.
To top of the awesomeness of moving and the even more awesomeness of moving into someone’s parents’ house, I’ve also had a fantastic week.
Last week, my ankle/calf/achilles was hurting every time I ran. Official diagnosis is that I have tendinitis on the inside of my ankle. The cure: NOT run and ice for a couple weeks. That cost $50.
This week is supposed to be my biggest volume week. Without running. Now, it’s also without swimming. But that’s the end of the story.
Monday and Tuesday I had to put out my newspaper after taking Friday off to move and moving all weekend and my co-worker was in Japan, so we had to do her paper too. It was rough. So, yesterday, I woke up at 11 and felt terrible. I called in sick and laid back down.
Then, it seemed nice out, so I figured I’d go for a ride since it stopped raining. Because, obviously, since it was raining off and on, it wouldn’t start again. Then, I didn’t dress for the rain, since it wasn’t raining. I didn’t have a rain jacket or thick gloves or booties. About 30 minutes in I was completely soaked. Instead of going back for a jacket or changing my route, the third stupid decision was to keep going on the really hilly route I had picked. I was already wet, right, it’ll be fine, it can’t get worse.
Usually, when you’re biking in the rain and the cold it sucks and it hurts and you’re on the verge of tears, but then you get home and it’s ok. This time I kept telling myself that it was fine. It’s ok; I’m ok; nothing can go permanently wrong; I’ll get home eventually and it’ll be fine.
But when you go up Mt. Tam, you have to come down. I had to descend down this windy, one-lane, sketchy road. The road was slick and it was raining, and I was so scared about cars coming up. My brakes weren’t working very well, so I had to grip them as hard as possible to even kind of stop. I was freezing and clenching my teeth so hard so I would stop shivering. And I was having a hard time gripping the brakes, my hands were frozen stuck. It took more than 10 very scary minutes to get down that road, but once I was down I figured it was ok. I was fine, it would be fine, it was just a flat 1.5 hours home now.
Then it just started pouring.
Somehow, I just kept telling myself that it wasn’t that bad and that everything would be fine and I felt fine. I managed to ignore how bad things were until they were way, way past bad. By the time I was close to home I took my glasses off because they were covered with water and I realized that I couldn’t really see. I couldn’t move my hands, so I couldn’t grip my brakes — I just kind of coasted through intersections and hoped no one hit me. I hit a pothole about 3 minutes from home and couldn’t control my bike or move my hands, so I just fell over.
When I got home I had to pull my jacket over my head and shake it upside down to get my keys out. Then, I had to use two hands to get the key into the lock and turn it.
Usually, when you get home from a wet, cold ride, you jump in the shower and it’s all better.
This time I got in a nice cool, lukewarm shower and thought my skin was burning off. I have never been in so much pain. It wasn’t until then that I started crying. My fingers were swollen. Everything was frozen.
Eventually the searing pain stopped. But I ran out of hot water and still couldn’t feel my feet, which isn’t that uncommon and when it happens you just throw on all your clothes and jump in bed for like 10 minutes. I got out of the shower after my knees stopped buckling and I started shivering, shaking violently.
I was just laying in bed and my skin was still so cold. It took an hour and a half before I could even walk around.
I’m usually pretty whiny; when things suck, I KNOW they suck. So I don’t know how I managed to ignore how bad things were. But, I did. So. That’s either good or bad.
Then, last night I had a Town Council meeting until after midnight. Then, I didn’t fall asleep until close to 3.
This morning I went to the gym and on my last rep of deadlift into shoulder press I pushed the bar up and threw my chin back and slammed the bar right into my jaw. My lower lip got stuck in between the bar and my teeth and the only place for my teeth to go was right through my lip.
At first, I thought FUCK. I’ll just rinse my mouth out and finish the set. Then, I realized there was a lot of blood, so I thought I’d just do my physical therapy exercises and stretch and call it a day. Then, I realized that wasn’t happening.
Steve said I had to go to the ER to make sure I didn’t need stitches. They don’t really do stitches on your lip and it’s not that deep a cut, so I have one of those bandages that hold the wound together. When he put the glue on the outside of my lip, I could taste it inside my mouth after it leaked through the cut. I’m not supposed to get it wet for a few days and take antibiotics. I asked the doctor if I could still swim and he said, “What?!? NO.”
That cost $150.
I guess I’ll just ride my bike trainer all weekend, since I can’t ride in the rain. I’m also not technically supposed to “perspire heavily,” but I think I might ignore that.