A bump in the Road, well, a Road Block really...

I know that it has been a long time since I've updated the site, but I was really busy, or lazy, or distracted, or something. This post will be an update to my current situation, regrettably with no recipies.

It is now August 6, 2007 and I'm no longer training for IMFL. I'm currently training to wash my hair with my right arm :-(

About a week and a half ago everything was going according to plan. I had returned from vacation in Northern Michigan with a couple of long rides filled with hills and surprising average speeds on the bike. I even managed a spontanious 10 mile run followed by several hilly and hot 7 milers. I was king of the world - on track with the right amount of weight to lose, and looking forward to the Big Build to Ironman.

Then I suffered a series of setbacks. Before the vacation and after my early 1/2 IM (report to follow) I was called out on a couple work weekends which seriuously messed with my plan. I was then dropped by my coach due to my lack of communication of my schedule (not that I had a lot of control over that - but it is what it is).

Still, after suffering these set backs, and at least one more hideous working weekend, I found myself renewed in my efforts to make a good showing at the race. I had many more working weekends planned, and several weddings to attend, but I was solid, and committed to the race - still dreaming of a 10 hr finish.

Then the house of cards came down. Immediately upon my return home I was hit by what we refer to as the Nicaraguin Plague. 24 hours of harsh flu and losing the wrong kind of weight. A big bummer for sure, but nothing to jeoperdize the race.

I missed a 60+ mile group ride that I was looking forward to, but I was determined to make up for it. Perhaps this contributed to what followed, but most likely not.


On the next group ride I took the bike up from the basement, rode a preliminary 20 miles and met the group at the local bike shop. Approximately 10 miles into the ride I heard a strange rattle coming from the bike - surely a bolt from the water bottle cage. Approx 2 minutes later I was on my ass taking stock.

The strange rattle turned out to be my front skewer (the thing that holds the front wheel in place) and the result was me going ass over tea kettle onto the pavement via my head and my shoulder. The good people a Bell Helmets kept my noggin intact, but the good people at the paving company insured that my shoulder was whacked.

I suffered a Grade III Acromioclavicular separation. In laymens terms I separated my shoulder really badly (tearing all the ligaments and tendons surrounding the collor bone at that top of the shoulder). After the first trip to the surgon I was given a light at the end of the tunnel. 8 weeks of rehab and I should be fine. After an MRI and a second consultation I was told to shoot for washing my hair with my right arm - bummer.

It is really hard to know what to make of this whole thing. On one hand, I'm truely thankful that I'm not taking my meals through a straw (or even just taking meals in general). On the other hand, I'm really bummend about missing the race. It's not about the money, or the fact that the bike is broken. It's about the fact that I really thought that I could do it, and now I have to wait, perhaps for a long time, to make another attempt.

Friday holds more hope. I go to see the surgon again, and hopefully, he will tell me that I should find a shoulder specialist, or that everything will be fine with a little more time. Anything but limbo will be better than this.

On the positive note, I will have lots of time to post the great dinners we were making in the last couple of months, and after my recent trip to Napa I have a few win recommendations for everybody as well.

Make no mistake, I will be back on the Triathlon circuit soon enough. I don't care what my shoulder ends up looking like, or if I need to pioneer a procedure myself.

The IronLife will continue...