I'm pretty sure I met with Mr. Salmonella. Was it my salad from the garden with homemade vinaigrette? Was it the accompanying dry Whataburger with no mayo, no cheese, no oil on the bun (for toastiness they say) and loaded with lettuce and tomato? My experience in the last few days has been like a scene from a movie.
I'll need to backtrack on my running program. I don't mind that too much; it's more about the journey than the destination. I did find a half-marathon in downtown San Antonio in November that ends at the Alamodome. Stomping on my old stomping grounds sounds like fun.
I don't like the feeling of physical weakness. My muscles feel pillowy soft and I'm still not ready to exercise them. Come back, strong body!
I suppose the aging process will eventually force me to find a place of self-forgiveness, a certain inner strength, where I have to allow my body to degrade to weakness. Someday I will not be capable of hours and hours of physical effort. At some point, it will not come back no matter how much I beckon. What will I do with my excess energy then? Do other things become more important? I hope I always have people to love.
In the meantime, I wonder how difficult a triathlon really is, and how many of my personal habits I can tame to become a better athlete...
One step at a time girlie-o. Slow down. I'm rambling and apparently delirious.
Start with Pepto for lunch.