Great Start, Poor Finish

I finally started getting on track last weekend and managed to follow my complete training schedule and then some (I know, overachiever). I stuck out a 60 mile ride in the cold, which I deserved because I started late. And of course the  sun came out again about 10 minutes after I finished, and again I deserved because I started late. I didn't skimp on the run off of the ride. It was such an accomplishment that we opened one of those Special Bottles of Wine that one saves for Special Occasions that when they come never seem to be Special Enough. Well, I deemed a successful ride as Special Enough. The wine agreed.

But things started severely lagging by mid week. I blame work, which seems to be getting in the way of training a lot lately. I lost yet another member of my team and one of my favorites. I spent a good deal of time trying to do damage control and it totally wiped me out. I went to be around 9:30 on Thursday and fell asleep immediately (which never happens) and didn't even wake up when Matt came to be roughly 30 minutes later (which also never happens as I am the worlds lightest sleeper). Needless to say, I still was not well rested the next day and the return of winter did not help matters. I've now done nothing for 2 solid days. Here it is Saturday afternoon and I'm still in my PJs trying to muster up the energy and motivation to do something.

It also hasn't helped that I managed to injure the ball of my right foot by siting at the table at book club. I have no idea what happened but it feels like I bruised the bottom of my foot. I did run once and it didn't bother me, but walking has been a little painful at times. Naturally it is not consistent. And on top of that, I walked into the plywood platform that sits underneath my trainer. I now suffer from Fat Purple Toe and of course it's the same foot. Let's just face it, I'm falling apart.

So, it's time to start over. Again.

The only way of finding the limits of the possible is by going beyond them into the impossible ~ Arthur C. Clarke