Oh hey, how's it going? I'm fine thanks...I know it's been a while. Sorry I haven't returned your calls. Been really busy with work, school, family, and my sock drawer. No, no it's not you, it's me. You're just too good for me. You're intimidating and successful, why would you be interested in me?
Oh wait, silly me, I thought I was a guy for a second. Now that that's over.
Okay, so I know it's been a while, I beg forgiveness from the bottom of my heart - it's been known to be a little cold and cynical, but my cardiovascular fitness level is right up there with Lance. So you know I mean well. I'm not going to go over the events since April. No, I bought a beautiful, leather bound expensive diary to do that. Okay, I lied, its not leather bound or expensive, it was $7.99 at Borders. Regardless, I DO have a nice gel pen that flows lightly over the page in the way that only jelly roll can do, so I like writing it in a lot more than typing. In addition, I feel like hand written journal entries are a tad bit more personal, don't you think? I like to doodle, underline, cross out, bold, italicize, etc. in a way that only my handwriting can do. Even if I do hate the way I write the letter i.
So in current time I'm sitting in my condo in Naples listening to the ocean rear it's ugly head against the shore. I'm actually a bit frustrated with you, Florida, if you don't mind me saying. When I flew four hours south I expected balmy weather, nice sun, warm water, and fluffy white clouds against a periwinkle sky - the perfect end to a hellish semester. And what did I get? All the cold of the arctic tundra minus the cute penguins and plus some palm trees - a great tease. Don't worry, I already packed away my sundresses and am now in my third straight day of wearing my only pair of sweatpants. Sometimes God is funny. And sometimes He's not. Like right now.
Also in current times, to catch you up, remember that time when I had those God awful shin-splints that made me want to a punt a Chihuahua? (Ok, truth? I still want to punt Chihuahuas, but that's for another entry.) Well, they headed north for the winter, apparently, and decided my knees would be a great vacation spot. The pain in my knees when I run is enough to make me question why I do Triathlons - which, if you know me at all, means a LOT. It's this awful sharp pain that feels like a toothpick is being hammered into my Tibia. And I can't kneel or crawl on my hands and knees - two vital parts of my life.
I meant kneel in Church, get your head out of the gutter.
So. Here is a little something I composed:
Dear stabbing, throbbing, sharp, firing knee pain,
We've gotten to know each other quite well in the past two months. I enjoyed your stay, really. You've given me time to not only focus on my swimming but also my cycling. You also were the catalyst in my introduction to my rather attractive Physical Therapist. However, all good things must come to an end, as April is fast approaching and I need to begin my running training. I'm sure we will meet again, hopefully not in the near future. But absence makes the heart grow fonder, and I'm sure when I'm doubled up in pain over some other Triathlon-induced injury I will think of you fondly and wish you were my only companion again. In conclusion, consider yourself evicted and no longer my parasite.
Your speed demon of a host,
K
I think it ought to do the trick. And if that fails? R.I.C.E. Rest, Ice, Compression, Elevation. Great. I don't even like rice.
In other news. I realized I am quite literally the Houdini of my personal belongings. If it's within five feet of me, valuable, and something I use everyday, don't even get attached. Consider it gone. I had my bike computer on the Doctor for, what? Four days? And poof. Son of a gun, Katie, you did it again!
Okay I'm done being witty for the night,
Love love love,
me
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