The first day down here, I did some running on the beach. This wasn't your typical "let's go for a run" type of run. You all know I wouldn't say or do such a thing. Instead, it was just a few short pain free minutes (maybe 20) of throwing the frisbee with Todd. The following morning was a different story. My right hip flexor started to yell obscenities with my every attempt to move it. I tried to reason with it, explaining this was a family beach and those kind of words would not be tolerated. I even tried smacking it around a bit. That didn't work either.
With this slated to be a heavy mileage week in preparation of the upcoming ADK 540, I got on my bike and headed out for the better part of the morning. I wish I could report the ride was a success but it was anything but. I quickly became frustrated as I attempted to break the world record of completing the most missed turns in the first half of a ride. At the same time, the hip pain had now stretched all the way down the outside of my leg.
At one point it was bad enough to bring me 79.9% of the way to mentally breaking. Instead of crawling into a ditch to cry, I turned the wheel towards home and bagged the rest of the ride. The ride ended up, being less than 5 miles shorter in that direction. The original route would have been more scenic but without the mental fortitude it certainly wouldn't have been more enjoyable.
Fast forward through two days of extreme hip therapy consisting of hours upon hours of sitting on the beach perfecting all my amazing tan lines. What most people try to avoid, I usually excel. My crisp, sharp lines of differing color on my skin would make any cyclist proud.
Like my new do?