Fear

I have a fear. It may not be rational and it may be completely unreasonable, but I am afraid. I'm afraid that I've fallen in love with triathlon and that I'm going to fall out of love someday. I see SO many people post about post-Ironman blues. I see people talk about losing their mojo. I see people get injured and have a ridiculous time coming back. I see myself, fighting and searching (oh how I searched!) for something to fulfill my need to compete and something to drive me and something to complete the picture and something to strive for. . .  and I'm afraid of losing that. I know that's ridiculous, but #thestruggleisreal.

Week 2

Well hell's bells. Week 2 of my renewed vigor has been railroaded. Sidelined. Totally cast off. We have the flu. All of us. The kids and I got our shots. Hubs did not. What started as a little bit of snot has morphed into gallons of snot, runny noses, bloody noses, ear infections, chest-rattling coughs, and feverish sweats. I first noticed it Monday, but tried to work through it. I swam 1000 meters and sat in the sauna for a while, trying to power through. To no avail. Tuesday, I took a 4.5-hour nap. Wednesday, I had to rest after folding 3 loads of laundry. This. Sucks.

On a more positive note, I was on a roll. A *real* roll. I got up earlier than usual on Tuesday and Thursday and changed up my running routine. I usually drive to meet my group at the local church at 5:30 and we run a 4.7-mile loop. Last week, I ran to the church, adding 2.5 miles to my run. That felt great and I was really feeling positive about the changes I had made. And then this. Boom. Flu. Down for the count.

I'm trying not to lament too much, but dang. This sucks.