Everyday You're Upright Is A Good Day

I did a biathlon thing today. I rode my bike fifteen miles, hopped off that summbitch and ran three. Running on pre-fatigued legs is fun. I like it when I have to think about not falling on my face every step I take because I don’t know if my thighs are strong enough to support me. Running on pre-fatigued lungs is fun too. I bet it feels like somebody OD’ing on a speedball. I also learned that a still beating human heart works as long as it doesn’t shoot out one’s mouth. I can’t imagine how it’s humanly possible to do the Ironman – 2.5 mile ocean swim, 110 mile bike ride, 26.2 mile run – but it is. I see people finish it every year on T.V. I also know somebody, personally, that’s finished it. I’m not anywhere close to being ready for the Ironman. I am close to being ready for the River Run, which I plan on treating like a white collar convict in a maximum security prison – don’t let me catch you standing up to pee. I forgot to mention that I have a kiddy-seat on the back of my bike that acts like a parachute. As positive as I am about my fitness right now, the constant pain I’m in is threatening to take its toll on me. My ankles still hurt. My shins hurt. My thighs hurt. My neck hurts. My lower back hurts. I’m flexible like a baseball bat, and I’m too sore to stretch for any length of time. I’m only comfortable when my muscles are hot; not warm, hot. I’m thinking about moving into one of the saunas at the Y. The only reason I got the bike out today was because my legs were too stiff to run, and I didn’t want to take twenty minutes to warm up in the back yard. Getting old is a drag, but then I remember what the philosopher Westley says, “Life is pain; anyone telling you different is selling something.”