Blocked and ready

Well, after having nearly every nerve in my upper back blocked, derailed or otherwise distracted, I think I might maybe should be able to return to training.

In the meantime, just a little 2.5 year history of my charitable donations to Ironman through massive and way overpriced entry fees that are non-refundable. This includes next weekend's 1/2 Ironman in Oceanside, which by the way, will be the second time that I've donated money. I swear, at this point I could have not only donated this money to some educational fund for children but given them a Ferrari to drive to school in.

Which brings me to my next (first?) point. Not an original thought, but I'm sick of these entry fees. A few years ago, I staged an IM entry fee demonstration through not entering any "IM" brand races. Well, you can see the egregious effects it had on the organization.

But I'm as big a sucker as anyone else. I'm obsessed by this Kona thing. I'm totally aware of its cult-like status in the triathlon world and I'm not a sucker - I don't even pay retail. But.

Is it because it keeps thwarting me? I've fought my way through years of sucky races with a Physician's Guide of ailments and, thus, refuse to give in. Stupid or stubborn, you decide.

And THEN. Hypothetically, I get to Kona and finish it. Then my plans are to do the sensible thing by once again protesting IM and head to Europe to compete where it's actually cheaper to buy a ticket, airfare and get bonked by fees to get my bike over there. No more IM races. Yeah, right. Is Kona like a drug? Like my tattoos? You do one and you have to keep going. I guess I shouldn't dis smokers and drug addicts - am I really any better. Yeah, they're less healthy to be sure but how great is being homeless except for my tri-bike (that's awkward to fit into my cardboard box even if I don't fluff the newspaper for greater sleeping comfort) and a ticket to IM Wisconsin?

I guess I'm getting ahead of myself.

Aside from this, I started working out with the OC Roller Girls. Way less money and I get a cool derby name: Slay Achin' (In honor of my mom's love of Clay Aiken. There you go, mom. Don't say I never gave you anything.)