Sunday, December 19, 2004

Feeling Run Down

In spite of my best intentions, I just couldn't get on the bike today. I've been dragging all day, in spite of a long afternoon nap. They say these longer runs can take their toll, so I guess I'm still recovering from yesterday.

I seem to have hit on a good post-run therapy for my legs, though. Cold water soak, hot shower, a few minutes of gentle massage on the foam roller, a little stretching and then arnica and a menthol-containing lotion. My legs are only very slightly stiff today-- I've felt worse after a hard 5K. It's the rest of me that doesn't want to do anything! I've read that overuse of arnica can be bad for the liver, though. I don't know if that applies to topical solution or not, but after the marathon my focus will return to half-ironman distance triathlon (Gulfman Tri in Galveston, April 3) so my longest runs will probably be around 15 miles. Not enough to justify such an intensive post-run therapy. No more arnica.

I ran a few errands today, spent some time online, hung out with the bunny, took a nap and went for my customary Sunday night walk with Dan at Memorial Park. It's nice to know that even though we don't spend huge amounts of time together during the week, there are certain things we always do together. It's better to always wish you had a little more time with someone that be constantly wishing they would go away and leave you alone.

I talked to my family on the phone this evening. Dad made green chile enchiladas tonight. I wish I'd known-- I would've driven over there! But he promised to freeze some for me and said he'd be making posole and red chile enchiladas (New Mexico style) after Christmas. I'm looking forward to that. I really need a posole fix sometimes. Over 400 years of New Mexico ancestry and I guess these things end up encoded into your DNA or something.

My sister sounded pretty good on the phone, although my mother insisted on giving me a blow by blow account of the professional cleanup of the spot where her boyfriend shot himself, all the stains, dribbles and particles they found, etc. It didn't upset or disgust me, but I found it pretty tacky of her. Like I really care?

My sister is still in worship mode of her boyfriend. I guess this will take longer than I thought. I had hoped that after a week she'd be starting to remember how screwed up things really were and how she had complained about him, wanted to leave, etc. But no. She's still reluctant to part with so much as a piece of lint he might've touched. And she's crediting her Prozac with keeping her from crying as much as she thinks she should be. Like there's some kind of "right" way to grieve. And as if the Prozac wasn't what kept her in this doomed relationship to begin with. Funny, she didn't need it before she moved in with him, he lost his job and things started spiraling out of control. Typical for the mentality of our modern age-- don't fix your screwed up situation, take a pill instead!

Today's Workouts
Nothing, unless dealing with the Sunday crowd at Central Market counts.

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