Le Peuwww

I woke up this morning and I'm on crooked. My head is going one way, my shoulders the other. My lower back is heading the other way entirely. This? Is the last time I don't see my chiropractor every week.

But more dramatic than that? I'm out of deoderant.

I turned the knob and it was all "clickclickclick."

Why is this so traumatic? Let me put it this way, I wear the clinical sport strength in the hope that I will win the Battle of the Stinky Triathlete.

I hate stink. Always have. Since my injury, I have the MOST sensitive sense of smell. I can smell people on the side of the road and in other cars. Cigarettes four cars in front of me? Yep.

I hate stink.

We all have stinkiness. I hardly expect anyone to not curl my nose hairs (including myself) by mile 120 of an Ironman.

So until I get to Randall's I will walk around with my arms stuck firmly to my sides.

I'm also going to visit the chiro.

Everybody needs a dream

I am determined to do a handstand.

Yes, my main goal is to qualify for Kona. But I've always admired those people (they are usually gymnasts) who can push themselves up from a seated position into a handstand.

This all started because I grew a core. Find the irony - I first got the idea at physical therapy. Don't even ask me to explain the Pilates funky thingy with springs on it that I started doing pikes on.

Then I got the idea to push myself up. More. More. And now I've gotten as far as my feet going to my head.

Here's where I start to need a wall. Here's where I really need a brain. A brain that will tell me exactly how badly I will ruin my race season by snapping something in two.

I'm practicing on the kitchen cutting island. While I'm making coffee. I've determined that this is a good idea by not trying to get upside down.

Another goal more conducive and less health insurance premium raising - to swim at all the public pools and swimming holes in the Austin area.