Queering the Triathlete (and Other Discomforts)

A Melancholy Zebra determined to strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield.


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My First DNF: I Had to Pee, Okay?

DNF. Did not finish.

Ew.

At the end of the day, the best explanation remains that I came prepared to race with my head, not my heart. So when things went to shit in a leaky bucket, my head was smart enough to call it a day, and my heart wasn’t there to override it with impassioned stubbornness.

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Vertebral Subluxation Just for Fun

*adopts Henry Higgins voice* Damn damn damn damn damn damn damn.

Somehow–and lord only knows how exactly–I subluxated a couple of my cervical vertebrae and, in doing so, pinched a nerve. Or possibly two, as both of my arms over the course of an hour went from: “Huh, I think my fingers fell asleep. Lazy fingers” to: “OH MY GOD I can’t move my arms!!” For example, it quite literally took me five minutes to get my key in the door lock because I couldn’t control my arms enough to lift the key and hold it still. Terrifying.

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Dastardly Shin Splint Raining On My Parade

This post has sat on my desktop for days; I think I was waiting until today’s appointment when, once again, I would hear a doctor tell me not to run.

And once again, I would ignore him.

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