Facing my first potential DNF

So last Saturday I had a long run.  I was feeling great on it, thinking that my left ankle sprain was healing up nicely, that I've been pretty good about following my training plan, and my hypothyroidism seemed to be under control.

As I was running down the sidewalk, I saw a very obviously pregnant woman waddling down the sidewalk. I smiled and moved aside, giving her more room to pass.  Promptly stepping into a pothole and spraining my right ankle.

At least it's a different ligament this time.

My first race of the season (a sprint) is this Sunday, so there's a real possibility that I may be facing my first DNF.  I'm still holding out for the slight possibility that I can walk the 3.1 miles at the end, although I'm still not at the point where I can consistently put weight on my right foot.

The lesson here: No more yielding to pregnant women.

Old jerk on a bike

Generally cyclists are a friendly bunch (at least to other cyclists - not so much motorists)  Often when I'm changing a flat or just stopping to rest, I'm amazed by how many cyclists are willing to lend out their tubes/air/compressor/help.  (Those things start adding up after a while!)

So on my bike ride this morning, I rode past an old guy standing in the weeds with his road bike.  He seemed to be waiting for something/one, so I called out, "Are you okay?  Do you need anything?"

He slowly turns to face me, then yells out, "None of your God-damned business!"

A little shocked, I muttered an "...okay?" and rode off. 

For the rest of my ride, my thoughts got increasingly angry, culminating in, "I hope he has a heart attack and the next time I ride around I won't offer to help."

But then I realized I probably would stop anyway.  I mean, I'd kind of feel guilty if I ignored someone in need who I later found out died.  But I might passively aggressively make the 911 call with, "Some jackass is having a heart attack.  You should probably help him, but he won't be appreciative."

The dreaded hour...

Anyone on thyroid replacement therapy has probably heard that you must take the pill on an empty stomach, and cannot eat for at least an hour after taking the pill.  My doctor told me.  My endocrinologist told me.  And the pharmacist told me when I picked up the pills.

Fine, sounds easy enough.  Take the pill in the morning and wait...wait a second...how long?  An hour???

Maybe it's because I somehow missed out on the girly gene and I don't wear makeup or blow dry my hair, but an hour is a freaking long time to wait.  That means that I have to wake up at least an hour and a half (extra half hour for the actual act of eating) before I need to be anywhere in order to take this stupid pill.

Which wasn't that big of a deal in the winter.  Sure, I'd get hungry waiting, but I could survive.  But now that it's summer and training is in full force, I've begun doing 1.5-2 hour workouts in the morning.  And as a result, I've been waking up at the ungodly hour of 4:30 a.m. the past week.  And that just isn't okay with me.

A typical morning goes like this:

4:30 a.m. - Wake up, shove the cat off my pillow and fumble for the stupid pill.
4:32 a.m. - Drink the water I laid out on my bedstand the night before that I'm about 90% sure the cat drinks out of while I'm sleeping.  Then get out of bed.
4:40 a.m. - Get dressed (I usually shower the night before), pack my clothes for the afternoon workout.  Feed the cat, brush my teeth.
4:55 a.m. - Pack my lunch, drooling over all the food I can't eat yet.
5:00 a.m. - Wait
5:15 a.m. - Wait
5:20 a.m. - Start cursing all the evil forces that have made me reliant on this stupid pill
5:30 a.m. - Finally start eating
6:00 a.m. - Leave to do my workouts, then go to work.

As you can see, there's a huge chunk of my morning that I COULD be using to sleep, but instead spend waiting while I get hungrier and hungrier.

Let me just tell you; I can't wait until race day when I'm waking up at 3a.m. just so I can eat breakfast....