Anyway, I'm eating a bunch of pizza with ranch dressing right now. And I'm in pajamas. And it's bedtime.
I never said listening means practicing what you hear.
Kind of like how being a journalist doesn't automatically equal accuracy.
|This is an actual real thing from my actual real job actually really recently.|
Sometimes, however, you do have to
proofread pick the adult choice. Which is what I had to do when the most unfortunately timed food poisoning incident ever was followed last week by some kind of viral thing that took out my lungs (please refer to the previous statement about not being a scientist).
(Your eyes do not deceive you. It's entirely possible I brainwashed my phone to always refer to me as "The Greatest Cat Lady Ever.")
So yes, I have withdrawn from New Orleans. We all know
Sazeracs triathlons aren't cheap, and I couldn't justify the cost of airfare, lodging, rental car, getting my bike there, etc., when I know I'm not where I should be with training and fitness (see earlier comment about pizza and ranch dressing) and would just end up fumbling through the race and most likely not feeling very well afterward.
I know this is the responsible choice. (And Coach Mark strongly encouraged it.) But I do feel a bit like a quitter. And it's bizarre not to have a 70.3 lined up for this year anymore -- makes me feel a little unmoored. (If you're reading this and have race suggestions, I'm all ears. And I promise I'll pay more attention than I did with the optimal time for pizza-eating.)
So I guess I am taking each day as it comes, baby steps, focusing on building my bike fitness up again. Went for a two-hour ride (outdoors, with sun!) last weekend. I definitely have a long road ahead, but I'm ready to work. I may not be headed to New Orleans anymore, but let's see where else this adventure will go.