After all that bitching about the heat and getting ready for a warm ride yesterday and drinking Osmo PreLoad and obsessively checking the hourly weather forecast, this happened:
Yes, that would be a crosswind. And a very gloomy sky. And then there was thunder and lightning. And in typical dumb Michaela fashion, I found myself on a trail with water on one side and tall trees on the other, getting rained on while sitting on a piece of metal. Hello, lightning! Pick me! Choose me!
It also didn't help that when I sought shelter, I ended up in a very long conversation with another cyclist who told me all about how he's seen people get struck by lightning and how once a runner on The Very Same Trail was killed instantly.
I was happy to get home.
I forgot to mention I bought a new bike.
Her name is Minivan, a nod to the sexy vehicle Arvan and I rented for IMAZ last year. (Arvan to the rental car guy: "I want a swag car! We're doing an Ironman!" We ended up with a white minivan, complete with sliding door. I'm going to assume the rental car guy confused "swag" with "SAG.")
Anyway, because I made the adult decision to buy a brand-new bike and then got hit with unforeseen dental expenses, I now find myself in this situation:
I didn't really leave my house all weekend, except to sell clothes, use the money from selling clothes to buy a tart for a friend's wedding celebration and almost get struck by lightning.
I guess the denture is probably a good thing. I've had to learn how to bite and chew all over again, so I haven't really been eating much and therefore have not been spending any money on groceries.
Unfortunately, this means I've been exhausted during workouts -- I don't think I'm getting enough protein or even calories in general. And eating gels has been interesting, especially since I can only use the left side of my mouth to tear the packet open, and the actual gel gets stuck underneath the denture, which is super distracting.
Also another source of anxiety: I got my stitches taken out last week (there were six of them, all along my upper gumline, where the inside of my lip hits my nose). I asked the surgeon what the next step is. Her answer: "Come back in three months and we'll see if you're ready for your crown. Have a great summer!"
Three months from now is right before Ironman Louisville.
Three freaking months. I don't know if I'm more worried about the toothlessness or the countdown. Here we go again, folks!