I am having a dilemma over what to write.  I mean, I started this blog to track my journey to Ironman Wisconsin, but does that mean it has to be a snorefest?  I didn’t think so.

I’m not sure how to handle it, though.  I could ramble on and on about my fragile knee and everything I was thinking during my last run, but does that make it interesting?  Well, let’s try.

During my last run, my knee hurt a little bit, but then it got to be sort of okay, then at the end, it sort of hurt again.

While I was running I thought about all the trouble in the world, like people without food and sometimes I thought about people with no arms and legs that have trouble running or swimming or even golfing.  This didn’t put me in a good mood because generally I am a compassionate person and like for everyone to be happy and have good workouts or rounds of golf.

Then THAT got me thinking about my dad, who is a pretty damn good golfer for being 70, but it kind of bummed me out too because it is snowing in Wisconsin and long winters aren’t good for your golf game.  And, of course, I started feeling the pressure of being a son and not buying a beach house in Florida that would make it easier for my dad to golf in the winter and my mom to work on crafts year round.  That would be the same house where I could visit anytime I wanted and take all of my triathlete friends down for training and open water swims in the ocean.

All of these things crossed my mind a like a machine gun fire and that helped me forget that my knee was kind of sore, but it didn’t help with the fact that I was starting to feel like a failure because I haven’t supplied all of these rich opportunities for my friends and family.  So, I had no choice but to start feeling sorry for myself and using the knee pain to legitimize my feelings.  It was great until I remembered that my brother and sister would dig a beach house too.  My bro loves riding mountain bikes, and while there are no mountains in Florida, I’m sure he would be happy to pound his way down the beach in front of an ocean.  And my sister, damn, she just finished her first 1/2 marathon in Dallas, so Florida would be a great place for her and her husband to run or bring the three little girls on Spring Break.

And of course, Spring Break reminded me of baseball and how much I miss college.

Our baseball team used to ride a bus for 30 hours from LaCrosse, Wisconsin just to get our ass kicked.  We’d get off the bus all pasty and white only to run into a bunch of tanned South Florida boys with big gold chains hanging around their neck.  It was so cold in Wisconsin we hadn’t practiced outside yet and these guys had 25 games under their belt.

Of course we didn’t care about any of that — we were on Spring Break to party.  One year, after our last game, we all went to the Dog Track and I mistakenly put down $4 on a Quinella bet because I had no idea how to gamble, but the race paid me $182.  I cashed it in and we all went drinking on my money.

I really wished I hadn’t spent all that money on drinking and suddenly I was having bad memories.  My knee started hurting again and I couldn’t shake it.  I started to walk.  Then I remembered my mom loves to walk on the beach, so I started running and I’ll be damned if I forgot everything I was just thinking, including all the good ideas I had for tonight’s blog.

Worst Training Blog Post Ever



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